Thirty Days of Red

  He orders two drinks for both of us—Sangria for me and Scotch for him.

  The alcohol consumes me. I stare at his long and hairy hands with clean fingernails, imagining how I would feel if he touched my cherry. Guilt washes upon me and I decide to push away those dirty thoughts.

  We chat about the cruise and the destinations we’ll be visiting and how he loves to cook, but he doesn’t dare ask me again about myself.

  Moments later, Christopher appears, all sweaty and panting. “Listen, dearie, I met some friends who are inviting me to hang out with them.” He spots the man beside me and leans in close to whispers, “Who is he?”

  I wave my hands in the air and shrug, pretending the man didn’t exist.

  “Okay.” He smirks, eyeing him again. “Don’t wait up for me.”

  “Have fun.” When Christopher disappears, I face my drinking partner for the night.

  “So, that’s your friend.”

  “Yes.” I gulp my drink and set it on the countertop. “And I think I better go.”

  “Wait.” He caresses my arm. “I want to see you again.”

  My heart flutters. It’s been a long time since a man looked at me with so much desire and passion.

  Not waiting for me to answer, he says, “Meet me here tomorrow night. Same time.”

  I gaze at his deep-set eyes and rise from the bar stool. “I won’t promise.”

  He pulls me toward his chest. I can smell his breath—Scotch mixed with lime—and almost want to taste his supple lips. “I’m Aiden.”

  “Please to meet you, Aiden.” I extend my hand, fiery from the alcohol and his touch. “You can call me Red.”

  “Red?” He seems amused and doesn’t let go of my hand. “Never met anyone by that name before.”

  I sling my purse around my shoulder and spring a few steps before turning back. “There’s always a first time.”

  As I stride back to my cabin, ready to remove my high heels, I think about what I can add to my thirty-day wisdom project. Never underestimate the power of lust.

  Red also stands for passion.

  3

  Day 3

  Liv

  Christopher doesn’t stop blabbering about Patrick Deakin, the man he met last night. The dark circles in his eyes depict he had quite an adventure, which reminds me about the day David proposed.

  A fog enveloped the sky. Hand in hand, David and I crossed the Golden Gate Bridge. His long fingers clasped against my tiny hand gave me a reason to feel safe.

  Oatmeal-colored scarf wrapped around my neck, I zipped my coat. “Brrr, it’s freezing. We should have picked another day to come here.”

  Although it had been two years since we dated, David was still full of surprises. We didn’t have any money, but we had each other.

  David squeezed my hand when we reached the center. “This is the perfect spot.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “For what?”

  With one knee bent, David removed a small black box and opened it. “To the love of my life, when I’m with you, I feel six feet taller, I don’t have to tell you what’s on my mind since you already know and I don’t have to look elsewhere as long as you’re by my side. To the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with, will you marry me?”

  Heart fluttering and dumbfounded, I burst into tears. “Oh, David, you always know how to put a smile on my face.”

  Hail cascaded down my cheeks, but all I felt was heat permeating inside me. I was going to now be David Walters’ wife.

  A smile played on his lips. “Is that a yes?” He took my hand and slipped the ring onto my finger.

  “Yes.”

  The sun glaring from the sky morphs me back into reality.

  Everything about Barcelona spells life. Together with hundreds of tourists, Christopher and I stroll La Rambla, the streets of Barcelona and soon find ourselves in the market, La Boqueria. A wide array of flowers, fruits, cheeses, and their famous legs of ham entice us. The scent of rawness captivates me the most and makes my mouth water.

  Christopher ignores me while he admires attractive Spanish men.

  I tug his arm. “Let’s get out of here.”

  “Wait. I have every reason to stay,” he pleads.

  Moments later, we are seated at the Royal Plaza, Placa Reial.

  I gaze at the open space. “This is a better place for people watching. You get a clearer view.”

  “I agree.” Christopher winks.

  “You need to be more discreet, you know.” I dig in my Zarzuela de Marisco and moan as the garlic and olive oil melts in my mouth.

  “No use hiding what you feel.” He plunges a Patata Brava in his mouth.

  After our late lunch, we explore the giant Gothic Barcelona Cathedral. From the outside, we witness street performers dancing as we walk alongside more cafes. Swans greet us in the courtyard.

  “I read somewhere that the swans just settled in here,” Christopher says.

  “You seem to be up to date, my dear.”

  “Of course.” He escorts me inside. “We’re ahead of the game.”

  I avert my gaze to the high ceiling of Roman walls and gothic architecture pointing to the sky, struck by its grandness, as if transcending between time. Moments like this open a big part of me I haven’t explored yet. Traveling to a new place only reminds me of the vastness of culture and how much we don’t know. David promised to take me to Paris for my birthday, but after all these years; we never managed to leave the country.

  We inch our way out of the Cathedral.

  Christopher nudges his shoulder against mine. “I don’t know about you, but my hair stood inside there.”

  “Were you admonished for your guilty pleasures?” I chide.

  He pinches my arm as we stroll back to the ship. “So what are you doing tonight?”

  “I suppose you and Patrick made plans.”

  Giggles erupt from his mouth. “Hope you don’t mind. He asked me to see him after dinner.”

  My throat clears. “I don’t want to deprive you of your needs.” I explode into laughter.

  “See? I told you this trip would be fun. Don’t wait up for me.” We board the cruise liner. After a sumptuous seafood buffet, Christopher drops me off in the cabin then rushes to meet Patrick. Glancing at my watch, I realize I have ten minutes to decide if I will meet Aiden. Should I?

  Inside my suitcase, I spot a crimson scarf that would go well with my spaghetti strapped ebony dress.

  After twirling the scarf around my neck, I put on a darker shade of scarlet lipstick and add a twist of shimmery gloss. I apply black mascara and perfume before exiting the cabin.

  Aiden sits on the same stool, watching every step I take toward him. I draw in deep breaths. Upon my reaching him, he takes my hand and brings it to his lips, studying my face. He lays a kiss, soft like the clouds. “You came.”

  “I’m not a flake.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “We can try the Burgundy Lounge. It’s not too noisy.”

  An internal struggle stops me in my tracks, but I remind myself I’m not Olivia. I’m Red. And Red is free to do anything she wants.

  We spot scarlet velvet chairs and dim lights as we enter the lounge. A man with pin-stripes suite plays the piano.

  Aiden gestures for me to sit down and rests beside me. “What would you like to order?”

  I study the menu remembering what he ordered for me last night. “I’d love a Sangria.”

  The waiter approaches, and he orders one for me and Scotch on the rocks with lime for him.

  “That seems to be your signature drink,” I comment.

  His eyes sweep down where my legs are crossed then back at me. “I like my drinks to be bracing like the winter.” He presses his lips together. “But food should always be moist like your lips.”

  At a loss for words, I lean backward but can’t help licking my lips.

  The waiter serves our drinks. A woman whose white dress clings to her slender frame as she approaches the stage welcomes every
one before delivering a love song.

  Aiden inches closer to me. He caresses my hand and sends shivers down my spine. How long has it been since David caressed my hand? My memory fails me. I know this is wrong, but I continue to keep still while I drink.

  He removes the orange from my glass and traces it on my lips. Heart throbbing, I nibble on a piece, but he pulls it away, popping it in his mouth and chews. Eyes wide open, he reaches for my neck and mumbles in a hushed tone, “I stole your Vitamin C.”

  My body freezes. “That’s okay. I can share.”

  We order more drinks as the lady sings a set of songs.

  Although my mind nudges me to go back to my cabin, my body feels like Velcro glued to the seat. The crowd begins to fade until only a few couples remain.

  After paying the tab, Aiden draws in a breath. “I heard this is the best time to be on the deck.” He fingers my scarf, and I find myself walking alongside him.

  Silence crosses between us upon reaching the deck. A gust of wind sweeps my hair when we face the ocean. The sight of water calms me.

  Aiden inches near me and plucks my scarf, gently tying my arms behind. “You’re my prisoner now.” His tongue probes my ears.

  I narrow my gaze toward him, but I can’t find my voice. My inner muse is telling me to run, but the alcohol has taken the better part of me, inducing me to stay. Recalling David’s plan to leave, I find myself more drawn to Aiden.

  He cups my face with both hands and caresses my lips with his. Eyes shut, I stroke his tongue against mine, tasting the Scotch and lime and the softness of his lips. His tongue cascades down my neck, and I moan.

  Aiden traces his finger down my bare arm. I shake, wanting to hold him close and feel the intimacy David and I once shared. Continuing to kiss me, he tugs my arm and guides me to his cabin. When we arrive, he undresses me with his mouth, lays me down the bed and rips my dress. I want to feel his tongue again.

  I don’t know what the hell I’m doing, but I feel alive.

  My cherry pulsates down there. He removes my scarf, and it’s my turn to stroke his back. My hands slides down his buttocks, pulling him inside me.

  I want him. I need him. I have to have him. When was the last time David and I had sex? Mind-blowing sex?

  My memory shifted to after we got married, when David and I bought our first condominium. We were lucky to get a good price, but later discovered the heater wasn’t working.

  All we had was a mattress, but we didn’t care as long as we had each other.

  “I feel cold.” I pulled the comforter closer to my chin.

  “You know the solution to that.” He cupped my face, gazing into my eyes like I was the most important woman in the world.

  “That’s a temporary fix.” I bit his chin as his hands groped me down there.

  We spent the whole day in bed, not worrying about any responsibilities, thrilled to be glued to each other. We were young, carefree and very much in love.

  But now I’m awaken by Aiden, who teases me and licks my cherry while fondling my breasts. My body moves up and down, following the rhythm of his tongue. Right when I’m about to explode, he thrusts inside me and presses his moist lips on my mouth. I can taste myself. I savor him… both of us.

  Heat emanates while he grinds. Pulling my legs up, he continues to rock forward and back. I drink his musky scent, combined with sweat. Intoxicated by lust, I want more.

  My thighs shake, and I reach to the edge of the bed while I release. He’s still going on, and I’m still stimulated. With one hand cupped on my breast, he pulls me on top of him and clings to my thighs as I rock my body to and fro.

  His breathing is ragged, and this time, I want to please him. I continue to hop up and down until we both explode in ecstasy.

  We share a tight embrace before I collapse beside him and lean on his arm. He traces my nipples then snakes his arms around my waist.

  While Aiden drifts off to sleep, I curl close to him, smoothing away wisps of his hair. He looks so peaceful, like a baby. I almost want to sing a lullaby. Moments later, I let go from his embrace and rise out of the bed. Christopher might be looking for me and I should get back. Tiptoeing, I slip into my dress, carrying my heels and purse, and exit the door.

  Upon arrival to my cabin, I insert the key and try to be as quiet as I can. I spot the empty beds and no sign of Christopher. “Phew.” I sigh in relief then hop into my pajamas.

  In bed, I replay what happened earlier, but my delight turns into rage as I curl my hand into a fist. Am I naive to overlook David’s intentions of putting an end to our marriage? Slamming my hand into the wall, I realize trust is not one of my best suits. I trusted my husband, never anticipating he planned to leave me. And now I allowed myself to be intimate with a stranger not thinking about the consequences of my actions. Then, I tell myself I’m not Olivia Walters. A smile spreads across my lips. I’m Red.

  4

  Day 4

  Liv

  Christopher is clueless I had a wild night that evening. All he talks about is how special Patrick made him feel by giving him a nice tie.

  I continue to nod as I gaze at the paintings in the Picasso museum, thankful we have another day in vibrant Barcelona.

  “You look different,” Christopher says.

  Resting my hand on my cheek, I say, “Perhaps it’s the Spanish air.”

  He shrugs. “You appear to be well rested.”

  If only he knew.

  A knot forms in my stomach, and my thoughts shift to the day I tasted despair after losing my baby.

  “I have the keys,” David called out from the kitchen.

  “Give me a few minutes.” I applied lipstick. Following him to the car, I hummed. “We’re going to be parents.”

  Backing up from the driveway, David beamed from side to side. “Can you imagine a mini me or mini you?”

  “Remember. I want it to be a surprise. Don’t try asking the doctor what the sex is.”

  “Promise.” He stepped on the gas. “You also need to promise me one thing?”

  “What?” I faced him.

  “If the baby’s a girl, she’ll only be allowed to date when she’s eighteen.”

  Eyebrows raised, I laughed. “Boy, our daughter’s going to have a guard dog. She won’t need one if she’s feisty like me.”

  He squeezed my hand. “And if it’s a boy, I’ll teach him to protect his mommy.”

  My heart melted. “You’re going to be a great dad, David.”

  David brought my hand to his lips and kissed it.

  “I’d like to name her Zoe if she’s a girl,” I said.

  “Zoe sounds nice. And if he’s a boy?”

  Lips pressed together, I grin. “I don’t know, something tells me we’re having a girl.”

  Our eyes locked and knowing we were both going to be parents, made me love him more.

  What started out as an exciting day soon turned sour shortly after we arrived at the doctor’s office.

  Eager to expose my bump, I lied down as Dr. McGregor applied gel on my belly. “I’ve been taking my vitamins, eating healthy, and reading aloud.”

  Eyes glued to the screen, he nods. “That’s good.”

  “I made sure Liv cut out her caffeine,” David added.

  Dr. McGregor didn’t flinch.

  I sensed something was wrong. “Dr. McGregor?”

  Lips formed in a straight line, he faced me. “I’m sorry...”

  Those simple words struck me like a bomb. I would never be a mother.

  Similar to the abstract paintings displayed on the wall, nothing made sense that day. A part of me wants to get lost in the artwork, and run away from my complicated life.

  Christopher pokes me back to reality. “I’m sorry if I stayed out late last night.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I don’t expect you to be with me twenty-four seven.”

  After visiting the museum, we take a tour of the Gothic Quarter, the old town of Barcelona. I admire the ancient, towering archite
cture, and as we end our day with a good old Café Solo, I learn something about myself in the two days of my stay in Barcelona. Life is about perspective. I could be home grieving about my husband’s condition and his plan to break our marriage, or I could be here, embracing life, knowing that tomorrow I’ll be waking up in Toulon, France.

  * * *

  Christopher and I try a formal restaurant that evening. As he munches on his Gambas, I ask him, “Are you seeing Patrick tonight?”

  “He wants to go gambling.”

  “Cool.”

  “I feel guilty about leaving you behind. Why don’t you join us?”

  “Me?” I rest my fingers on my chest. “I don’t gamble.”

  “You can always hang out with us. C’mon.” He wipes his mouth with a napkin.

  “I’m quite exhausted with all the walking today.” I yawn.

  “Okay.”

  “Sorry. I need all of my energy for tomorrow.”

  “Oui.”

  After dinner, Christopher drops me off the cabin and disappears into the night.

  Leaning my head on the door, I contemplate if I should see Aiden or stay home. Nothing about tonight feels right. It’s a choice between conscience and compulsion, and I choose the latter.

  “Screw it.”

  My heart pounding, I reach Aiden’s cabin. Everything about Aiden spells danger, but I’m tired of doing the right thing and being the good wife. Tonight, I will quench my thirst of lust.

  I knock lightly, press my ears against the door, and hear faint music. Maybe he’s with someone else, but I can’t help knocking again.

  Nothing.

  When I’m ready to leave, the door flings open and Aiden appears with a towel wrapped around his waist. His body is glowing with beads of water while he stares at me from head to toe.

  “Did you come back for this?” He pulls out my red silk scarf from the table behind him. I never realized it was missing.

  “No.” I press my body against his. “I came for you.”

  Our lips touch, and he turns me around in a swirl, carrying me to the bathroom.

  I slide down the zipper of my dress and toss my sandals to the side. Together, we soak inside the bathtub. My back leaning against his chest, I allow him to massage my breasts with suds. He presses his crotch from behind and bends down to caress the soap on my legs.