Page 85 of He Should Be Mine
I understand why we had to sneak in through a side entrance. But that still would have been the case if I tried to dress manly. I just look gay in whatever I’m wearing. It can’t be helped. So of course Dario has to minimize the risk of me being seen by anyone. I am a dirty little secret and that is all I will ever be. Being clandestine is necessary, and it is a price I am very willing to pay to get to experience all of this.
I wriggle in my seat. People are still milling around down in the stalls below. Their hushed conversations are merging into a gentle murmur.
I think the show is due to start soon. It is so very exciting. I cannot believe this is happening to me. Less than a year ago, I was basically homeless, selling my ass to a different guy every night and hiding from Roger the Pimp.
Now look at me. I’m at the frigging opera. With Dario by my side, and I’m wearing a silk dress that cost five figures. It’s incredible.
Suddenly, all the lights in the theater flicker. I look at Dario in confusion.
He smiles softly. “It means the performance is about to begin.”
Oh! Fantastic! The crowd below has certainly fallen quiet. I watch the last few stranglers hurry to their seats.
Then the lights dim all the way down. But it is not truly dark. Besides, Dario is right next to me. It is impossible to be scared of anything when he is here.
An expectant hush falls.
The music begins. A whole live orchestra. Oh wow! I have never heard anything like this! It is so rich! So vibrant and layered! The sound fills every molecule of the air. I can feel the music humming in my bones.
On the stage, the curtain lifts. Revealing a clever set and interesting costumes. The stage looks like an old ramshackle house, and in it are two men dressed in old-fashioned clothes. One man is standing by an easel. This is going to be amazing. I’m already intrigued.
The man by the easel starts singing. His voice is rich and deep and magnificent. It is like nothing else I have ever heard.
I watch and listen, utterly enthralled. I have no idea what is going on because they are singing in Italian and my Duolingo sessions have not equipped me with the skills to understand singing. Not that it matters, this is still divine.
Dario shifts in his seat. He leans towards me. Right towards me. His lips hover achingly close to my ear. He whispers.
Goosebumps tingling along my skin. This dress leaves my neck bare and most of my shoulder. I feel exposed to his breath.
Oh. Wait. He is translating for me.
Oh lord. How sweet. How very magical. My own personal opera guide. Whispering sweetly in my ear.
I bite my bottom lip. I try to concentrate, I really do. But it is no good.
Dario is so very close to my naked skin. I’m so very aware of him. All of him. His manly scent. The way his thighs are filling the smart black material of his well-tailored trousers.
The way his breath is tickling my skin. The way his soft lips are less than an inch away from me.
Opera. I’m here to experience the opera. Like a refined, classy and elegant person. Sitting here with the biggest boner of my life was so not the plan.
Fuck.
I’m so hard it hurts. A few more whispers and I’m going to cum in my panties. Oh god.
I should tell Dario to stop, except that would be awful. This is torture, but I don’t want it to end. He is giving me an erection, but he is also giving me the feels. All of the feels.
Dario.
It’s Dario whispering in my ear. The man I want with every fiber of my soul. This is the most magical moment of my life. The very pinnacle. Nothing is ever going to be better than this.
It is exhilarating. It’s profound. It’s so exquisite that I’m going to explode and expire right here in this box. I’m so full of emotions, of longing and wanting and needing and a million other things I cannot hope to name. They have replaced the blood in my veins and I’m swelling up so much it hurts. I’m burning and ready to burst.
I can’t cope with this. I’m not made of self-control. I need to do something before I fall apart into a thousand pieces. It is a matter of life and death. My very survival depends on it.
He leans away from me for a moment and I suck in a breath that does nothing to calm me. A new character waltzes on to the set, singing something.
Dario leans towards me, preparing to torment me some more with his soft whispers. Ready to restart the torture. I can’t. I just can’t. It is not humanly possible.
