II

Savannah stepped into her floor length evening gown.  A maroon, sleek, backless number, held together with a gilt button at the back of her neck.  Gently she smoothed down the wrinkled fabric caught by her hips, as she admired her reflection in the vanity mirror. Her once carefully styled hair was a mess, her lipstick smeared, but she had never felt more alive as her body sore and spent hummed in post-coital bliss.  With weak hands, she cleaned her stained lips with tissue, then taking her lipstick from the confines of her gold clutch; she began to repaint her lips with precision.  

"God, that was... incredible." The naked male who observed her movements from the warmth of cotton sheets smiled with lazy satisfaction.  

"Brutal.  But incredible."  He could barely move.  Such was the fatigue threatening to overpower him with sleep.  He wanted to let it wash over his aching limbs and pull him under, only to awaken tomorrow satisfied and well rested.  But he knew Savannah would be leaving soon. And the thought that he'd be left with silence and a cold empty bed prevented him from giving in.  Dreamily, he followed the arch of her back and neck, to her nimble fingers as they removed the hairpins from her side swept updo.

 "Never thought I'd say this.  But I thoroughly enjoyed... Don Giovanni-" Savannah replied and their eyes met for a brief moment in the mirror.

"Not nearly as good as Faust," she shrugged  "But surprisingly, I had a good time."

"Right" Her lover said and let out a short laugh.

Any other man would have been annoyed that she had changed topic- mentioning the theatre production they had attended earlier that evening.  Any other man would have cringed at her dismissive attitude and concluded the sex was so bad it was not worth of an after thought.  But he knew better.  She could feign disinterest as much as she'd like.  It could not mask the hoarse raspy tone of her voice; the result of their very vocal and intense lovemaking. 

 "Come here." He demanded, when he grew tired of watching and the desire to touch her overwhelmed all rational thought.  With hips seductively swaying and a graceful step, Savannah walked towards the bed. Once in arms reach, her lover forcefully pulled her down onto it.  He rolled with her in arms, till his naked form covered the length of her.

"I wasn't talking about the Opera." He whispered.  Arresting dark eyes glared down at her, while he nudged her legs apart with his own.

"Then what were you referring to?" Savannah challenged.

 "I was talking about us, our bodies connecting to make the sweetest of melodies."  Burying his hands and face in her hair he breathed in her intoxicating scent.

"But that's not the answer you wanted.  Was it-" he raised his head, just enough to look down at the goddess beneath him.

"I know you Savannah. Romantic words won't get you wet." He whispered.  "So allow me try again and this time, I'll be crude, just the way you like it." His eyes roamed to her perfectly painted lips and he licked his own in anticipation.

"I loved fucking you." He said, each word spoken slowly for emphasis. "And judging by the way you clenched around my cock as you came, I know you loved it too." He grinned when he saw colour flush her cheeks, her tongue pressed against her upper teeth to suppress a smile.

He adored her laugh, but what he loved more than anything was to see her like this; blushing profusely for him.  Nothing else created a sense of power like momentarily cracking her armour.  The armour used to stay in control of all situations.  That impenetrable armour, used to keep the men she naturally charmed at arms length. 

With an animalistic lick of his tongue against the curve of her jaw, he laced his fingers in her hair and tugged her face towards his.  Greedily he kissed her lips until their lungs burned for air and with insistent, confident eyes, he opened his mouth to speak.  

"James, please don't.  We've had a great evening-"

"You don't know what I was about to say." He said, leaning in he nuzzled her neck.

"Not say, ask. And yes, I know exactly what you're going to ask because you're giving me that look."

"What look?"  James replied softly. He propped himself on his elbow and stared at her.  "You mean the look of love from a man who worships you?  Or perhaps, you're referring to the look of a man who desperately wants nothing more than for you to be his wife?"

But with those sweet heartfelt words, the sexual tension between them evaporated.  James witnessing her discomfort did not protest when she removed herself from his embrace and sat up.  He watched in silence as she slipped on her stilettos.  He gently stroked her back as a loving gesture, hoping it would recapture her attention and from the embers rekindle their fire. When James realised she was not responding to his touch, he removed himself from the bed altogether.

He picked up his boxers and pulled them on. He needed something to take the edge off the silence. He needed something to lighten the sting of being snubbed by the woman he treasured.  He poured himself a glass of bourbon and downed it in three mouthfuls, grateful that it took only a few seconds for it to flood his veins and ebb his emotions. 

When he felt nothing except a dull pull. He poured himself another then turned to address the woman packing her belongings.

"Are we going to talk about this?"

Savannah shrugged dismissively "I don't think we need to."

"Right.  You don't think we need to, so I guess that's the end of the conversation."

Savannah turned and faced him. "I don't think we need to because you already know how I feel. Discussing it isn't going to miraculously change my mind." She said calmly.  James was not at all surprised by her coldness.  He had expected resistance from her but still, it hurt. It hurt to know the woman he had prized more than anything was so flippant about his heart's desires.  Resting his bourbon on a nearby side table, he walked towards her.

"Can I ask you something? Do I make you happy?" he only asked, when he was close enough to see the slight changes in her expression and mannerisms.

"I'm talking genuine happiness?"

"Of course you do.  I wouldn't be here if that wasn't the case." Yet her words sounded hallow to James, and he frowned in disappointment. 

"Technically, you are leaving." he sniped.

"True.  But like I said, you have work tomorrow and your proposal won't write itself." she replied, her voice soft and pacifying. Her lips hovered near his, tempting him to taste and perhaps dispel the unpleasant tension building between them.  Her hypnotic gaze captured James and he nodded in agreement despite himself.

"Of course..." He said. "Of course." a possesive hand snaked around her waist as he leant in and kissed her collarbone; the skin bruised from their earlier escapade. 

"You're right.  I have to prepare for work and you'll be too much of a distraction." He touched a particularly sore spot on her clavicle with his tongue and Savanna hissed.

"And I do agree. It's pointless going back and forth when we both know how this will end."   

"James, I'm not-"

"You're not what?" he said curtly, his eyes on hers  "Going to marry me?" his eyes narrowed.

"Or were you going to say you're not the marrying type? Because you're right.  You're not marriage material," his tone eerily calm and calculated.  

"You are a beautiful woman Savannah.  But there are many women, just like you and they don't sell themselves for money" his eyes roaming over her features paused on her lips "I should discard you.  Yet here I am offering you the world. You crave financial stability? I can provide a life of opulence.  You'd be stupid to throw that away and you're not stupid, are you Savannah?" he leaned in to kiss her and she moved her face away.  Too angry to speak Savannah did not reply, her chest rising and falling with each weighted breath. With a possessive hand behind her head, James forcefully kissed her, his tongue demanding entrance into her mouth.

In the morning James would blame his aggressive behaviour on the bourbon.  He would lie to himself that the liquor skewed his judgement and forced him to act out of character. He would apologize by sending her flowers.  He always sent her roses when his conscious nagged him.  Releasing her from his hold, James stepped away and licked his lips.

"No was never an option." He said.  He picked up his glass of bourbon and stared at her as he drank it.