Cecilia

I met Cecilia in a wine bar after I had finished playing a classical guitar gig. She had very long jet black hair, oval shaped chestnut brown eyes, and a wide mouth with lush, full, brightly painted red lips. Cecilia was dressed in a black coloured bell shaped skirt of textured fabric topped by a thin, black, silk blouse which covered her enormous bosom. She was fairly tall, slim, and statuesque but endowed with a graceful air and posture. I thought that Cecilia looked familiar, like a portrait of the Madonna and Saints by Bronzino I had once spent many hours in rapturous gazing at in the National Gallery. Cecilia’s face was beautifully porcelain coloured, oval shaped and with a long angular nose. She was obviously a young woman in her mid twenties but residing in that face was the sense of a very old lady, an ancient being.

Her long triangular shaped fingers were painted with burgundy nail polish. I watched her as she stood at the end of the bar drinking a glass of red wine and wondered if she was there with someone or alone. Before I had the chance to gather the courage to strike up a conversation, she picked up her drink and moved towards my side of the bar. Her voice, though soft, was so sweet that I immediately felt drawn to her. Cecilia thanked me for my earlier performance and asked if I had any plans for the rest of the evening. I couldn’t believe my luck and managed to say that I hoped that we could get to know each other better.

After a few more drinks, Cecilia invited me to her flat which was only a few minutes’ walk from the wine bar. Her room was filled with native African artefact, pottery, masks and sculptures. Cecilia told me that she had travelled to many places throughout the world and throughout infinite time. I thought that this was a rather strange remark but decided it was possibly the effects of too much drink. Cecilia asked me to sit on the living room sofa while she poured us a glass of wine. I felt very comfortable and looked about her beautifully furnished flat. Besides the native pieces, Cecilia had acquired religious shrines; candles and even a small alter. The small room was filled with bookcases, and very old, dusty looking leather bound volumes of works in Latin and Greek.

When Cecilia returned with our drinks I noticed that her eyes seemed brighter than normal, like the glowing eyes of a wild beast at night. It is difficult to describe just how intense and luminescent her eyes were shining. I felt mesmerised and drawn to her. I couldn’t move my eyes from hers. When she spoke I felt close to her, the feeling I can only describe as the feeling I had as a child with my mother, safe, warm and secure. Mixed up with those feelings was a tremendous sexual urge.