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It's been raining for two days. Forecast says it'll last all week. I look out the window, the droplets coming down slowly, after wetting the foggy glass. With the fingers of one hand I rub the surface, and I look out, to see how much I will have to get wet again today.
Then the cup with the milk coffee heats my fingers, while I blow lightly on the foam that surmounts the brown liquid. I hear some noise coming from my room, and I imagine it's Martina, who woke up and ran into my bed.
Now I have to go out. I'm wearing the yellow wax cape, and I put on my rubber boots. I look into the room where she's sneaked into and I see her asleep, holding my pillow in her arms.
The scooter I'm driving runs fast in the rain, in the still rare morning traffic. I pass the deepest puddles, I drive gently, careful not to slip on the shiny, treacherous and treacherous asphalt.
I have three more deliveries to make, and then the day will be over. I'm looking forward to it.
Despite the tarpaulin, the waterproof trousers, the boots and the gloves, after a few hours under this flood, the cold gets into my bones, I can't wait to go home, drink a hot herbal tea, and then slip under the duvet.
Finally home in my bed.
Then when I hear the door open, and Martina coming home, I put on my usual fleece overalls, woolen socks, and prepare dinner.
She and I are roommates, we share these two rooms, the bathroom and the kitchen. Except on weekends, when, I visit my boyfriend who lives in a faraway city.
Our sociality is concentrated in these two or three hours in the evening, when we have dinner, and then I go to bed, always early, while she is government, and then after a couple of joints, she goes to sleep.
Martina deals with botany, she is a consultant for some big companies of the sector, she knows all that there is to know about the plants, their provenience, the life cycle.
We divided up the tasks like this. She hates cooking, while I can't stand washing dishes.
Martina and I are very different, not only in terms of work, and schedules, but also in terms of character, and aspirations, expectations from life.
She doesn't seem to have anyone she hangs out with, except for an old teacher, much older than her, who she sometimes goes out with.
For some time now I've noticed this strange habit of her, of going to my bed when I get up in the morning.
It's raining again today.
This strange weather, it makes me nervous, it complicates my life. The sky is dark, lead grey, while some lighter clouds pass under the dark vault, discharging short and intense downpours.
I would like to stop, have a hot drink, but I have to make an urgent delivery, a guy at the airport is waiting for a package before his flight takes off.
I slalom between puddles and parked cars. I use the fast lanes, I even jump on the sidewalks a couple of times.
In the end, as I almost always do, I arrive on time, and deliver the envelope to a stewardess who signs the receipt and runs to the boarding gate.
Now I've earned a nice hot herbal tea.
I go to the bar, and while I am sipping slowly, warming my hands with the cup, I see Martina, sitting at a small table, with a man much older than her, I would say an old man.
I think of her old teacher she told me about, the one she sometimes goes out with.
I see that they talk a bit excitedly, and that she has shiny eyes, who has cried, or is about to do so soon.
He seems calm, and after a little more, he gives her a gentle caress, he gets up and moves away, towards the boarding area.
Martina sits at her table, staring into the void, then after a few more minutes she gets up and leaves for the exit.
I would have liked to stop her, ask her what was going on, but then I felt I was meddling in a matter that didn't concern me, and I let her go, thinking of the two hours of rain that I had left to face.
The rain meanwhile turned into a big storm, which then became a kind of little tornado.
The wind knocked down some big old trees along the avenue that leads back to the centre.
Traffic is blocked, fire trucks try to make their way through the chaos, flashing lights, emitting bluish glow in the increasingly dim light of dusk.
I found shelter in the hallway of a large building, and with the radio I warned that the deliveries were finished for today.
They reassured me, telling me not to worry, that everything was blocked, the power had gone out, and people had closed all the offices.
"If they fix everything, I'll see you tomorrow."
I get home and the power's still not back on.
I light some candles, and in their flickering half-light I undress and slip under the duvet.
Slowly my body warms up, I relax, and when I'm about to fall asleep I hear the door open, and Martina asking if I have already returned.
I tell her that I'm in bed, and then she looks at the door, opening it slowly, and I see that she's completely wet, she eaves water from her clothes, and has the expression of someone who has been crying for hours.
I tell her to run to the bathroom, that she'd flood the house, that I'd bring her some dry clothes, a bathrobe.
When I reach her, she's undressed, her clothes are on the floor, and she looks at me with a lost look, shaking, not knowing what to do.
I had never seen her naked, despite living together, we never became intimate, as is usually done between friends. I wrap her in a warm, dry bathrobe and start rubbing her, rubbing her with my hands, drying her hair dripping with water.
Martina is filiform, she has two firm and pointed little tits, and a tuft of black down covers her pubis.
Seeing her naked, for the first time I seem to catch a glimpse of those hidden sides too, that she has so far kept inside herself, that something of hers that she has never let out, but that unconsciously upset me, it's as if we had suddenly become more intimate, almost friends.
I try to embrace her as I caress her, and slowly I feel her closer, I transmit some of my warmth. Now she's stopping shaking and she's hugging me too and for a moment she's holding me tight, almost hurting me, and then she asks me if she can come into my bed, stay close to me for a while.
I nodded, with the promise that she would tell me what's happening to her, how she got into that state.
The light on the lamp on the bedside table wakes me up. The power is back on, I look at the alarm clock, and I realize it's the middle of the night. Martina sleeps quietly by my side, under the duvet, and I realize that we are both completely naked. Then I remember everything, and with a strange feeling of anxiety, and also of fear, I realize that we made love, that I fucked a woman.
The scene comes back to me and the fresh memory, it unravels pleasantly, and disturbing in my mind.
Once in bed, she took off her robe, and was naked. Then when we were both under the duvet, she hugged me, telling me the story of this teacher of hers, who was like a father to her, and who had left today, perhaps never to return. Her story then became nebulous, confused between distant memories, parents never had, adolescences in institutions, difficult years overcome thanks to the help of this person. As his words followed one another, I could feel him caressing me, his hands creeping under my pajamas, a feeling of warmth and sweetness enveloped me, then his voice became a light whisper, and he began to confess to me that he had fallen in love with me, that he was only attracted to women, to sneak into my bed every morning to smell my scent, hugging my pillow thinking about clutching my warm body.
My pajamas, as if by some strange magic, slipped out of my skin, like the wetsuit of a snake, and I found myself naked, with the warmth of Martina's skin. Her whisper became lighter and lighter, her mouth closer and closer, until it touched me, to feel the warm contact of her lips.
Her tongue sweet, warm, smooth, I felt it in my mouth, glued to mine, which was searched for in a tumult of sensations, with her heart beating wildly, her breathless breathing, her head spinning faster and faster.
Then the heat of her sex contrasting with my thigh, and her soft flesh rubbing against me, stronger and stronger and faster and faster. Then a kind of oblivion takes over, in which she starts kissing me all over my body, and I reciprocate her, until both mouths stick to our wet sexes. Martina licks and kisses my pussy like no man ever could. I change her and I feel that she enjoys it too, her moods come out copious, my lips and chin, nose and cheeks wet, I smell her smell, her thighs tightening my face, my abdomen muscles contracting, her choked scream that signals me a sudden orgasm, followed shortly after my explosion, that leaves me breathless, without strength even to scream.
I turn off the light and the room goes dark again, I feel her light breath, like that of a sleeping child. Outside it has started raining again, big gusts of wind make the shutters tremble, and the roar of water rumbles against the glass, washing the windows.
As if by a strange primordial instinct, I approach Martina and hold her close to me, to feel her warmth, to give and seek that security that the threatening bad weather seems to jeopardize.
She wakes up and smiles at me, then holds me tight and kisses me. I reciprocate her effusions and slowly we start making love again.
Then the cup with the milk coffee heats my fingers, while I blow lightly on the foam that surmounts the brown liquid. I hear some noise coming from my room, and I imagine it's Martina, who woke up and ran into my bed.
Now I have to go out. I'm wearing the yellow wax cape, and I put on my rubber boots. I look into the room where she's sneaked into and I see her asleep, holding my pillow in her arms.
The scooter I'm driving runs fast in the rain, in the still rare morning traffic. I pass the deepest puddles, I drive gently, careful not to slip on the shiny, treacherous and treacherous asphalt.
I have three more deliveries to make, and then the day will be over. I'm looking forward to it.
Despite the tarpaulin, the waterproof trousers, the boots and the gloves, after a few hours under this flood, the cold gets into my bones, I can't wait to go home, drink a hot herbal tea, and then slip under the duvet.
Finally home in my bed.
Then when I hear the door open, and Martina coming home, I put on my usual fleece overalls, woolen socks, and prepare dinner.
She and I are roommates, we share these two rooms, the bathroom and the kitchen. Except on weekends, when, I visit my boyfriend who lives in a faraway city.
Our sociality is concentrated in these two or three hours in the evening, when we have dinner, and then I go to bed, always early, while she is government, and then after a couple of joints, she goes to sleep.
Martina deals with botany, she is a consultant for some big companies of the sector, she knows all that there is to know about the plants, their provenience, the life cycle.
We divided up the tasks like this. She hates cooking, while I can't stand washing dishes.
Martina and I are very different, not only in terms of work, and schedules, but also in terms of character, and aspirations, expectations from life.
She doesn't seem to have anyone she hangs out with, except for an old teacher, much older than her, who she sometimes goes out with.
For some time now I've noticed this strange habit of her, of going to my bed when I get up in the morning.
It's raining again today.
This strange weather, it makes me nervous, it complicates my life. The sky is dark, lead grey, while some lighter clouds pass under the dark vault, discharging short and intense downpours.
I would like to stop, have a hot drink, but I have to make an urgent delivery, a guy at the airport is waiting for a package before his flight takes off.
I slalom between puddles and parked cars. I use the fast lanes, I even jump on the sidewalks a couple of times.
In the end, as I almost always do, I arrive on time, and deliver the envelope to a stewardess who signs the receipt and runs to the boarding gate.
Now I've earned a nice hot herbal tea.
I go to the bar, and while I am sipping slowly, warming my hands with the cup, I see Martina, sitting at a small table, with a man much older than her, I would say an old man.
I think of her old teacher she told me about, the one she sometimes goes out with.
I see that they talk a bit excitedly, and that she has shiny eyes, who has cried, or is about to do so soon.
He seems calm, and after a little more, he gives her a gentle caress, he gets up and moves away, towards the boarding area.
Martina sits at her table, staring into the void, then after a few more minutes she gets up and leaves for the exit.
I would have liked to stop her, ask her what was going on, but then I felt I was meddling in a matter that didn't concern me, and I let her go, thinking of the two hours of rain that I had left to face.
The rain meanwhile turned into a big storm, which then became a kind of little tornado.
The wind knocked down some big old trees along the avenue that leads back to the centre.
Traffic is blocked, fire trucks try to make their way through the chaos, flashing lights, emitting bluish glow in the increasingly dim light of dusk.
I found shelter in the hallway of a large building, and with the radio I warned that the deliveries were finished for today.
They reassured me, telling me not to worry, that everything was blocked, the power had gone out, and people had closed all the offices.
"If they fix everything, I'll see you tomorrow."
I get home and the power's still not back on.
I light some candles, and in their flickering half-light I undress and slip under the duvet.
Slowly my body warms up, I relax, and when I'm about to fall asleep I hear the door open, and Martina asking if I have already returned.
I tell her that I'm in bed, and then she looks at the door, opening it slowly, and I see that she's completely wet, she eaves water from her clothes, and has the expression of someone who has been crying for hours.
I tell her to run to the bathroom, that she'd flood the house, that I'd bring her some dry clothes, a bathrobe.
When I reach her, she's undressed, her clothes are on the floor, and she looks at me with a lost look, shaking, not knowing what to do.
I had never seen her naked, despite living together, we never became intimate, as is usually done between friends. I wrap her in a warm, dry bathrobe and start rubbing her, rubbing her with my hands, drying her hair dripping with water.
Martina is filiform, she has two firm and pointed little tits, and a tuft of black down covers her pubis.
Seeing her naked, for the first time I seem to catch a glimpse of those hidden sides too, that she has so far kept inside herself, that something of hers that she has never let out, but that unconsciously upset me, it's as if we had suddenly become more intimate, almost friends.
I try to embrace her as I caress her, and slowly I feel her closer, I transmit some of my warmth. Now she's stopping shaking and she's hugging me too and for a moment she's holding me tight, almost hurting me, and then she asks me if she can come into my bed, stay close to me for a while.
I nodded, with the promise that she would tell me what's happening to her, how she got into that state.
The light on the lamp on the bedside table wakes me up. The power is back on, I look at the alarm clock, and I realize it's the middle of the night. Martina sleeps quietly by my side, under the duvet, and I realize that we are both completely naked. Then I remember everything, and with a strange feeling of anxiety, and also of fear, I realize that we made love, that I fucked a woman.
The scene comes back to me and the fresh memory, it unravels pleasantly, and disturbing in my mind.
Once in bed, she took off her robe, and was naked. Then when we were both under the duvet, she hugged me, telling me the story of this teacher of hers, who was like a father to her, and who had left today, perhaps never to return. Her story then became nebulous, confused between distant memories, parents never had, adolescences in institutions, difficult years overcome thanks to the help of this person. As his words followed one another, I could feel him caressing me, his hands creeping under my pajamas, a feeling of warmth and sweetness enveloped me, then his voice became a light whisper, and he began to confess to me that he had fallen in love with me, that he was only attracted to women, to sneak into my bed every morning to smell my scent, hugging my pillow thinking about clutching my warm body.
My pajamas, as if by some strange magic, slipped out of my skin, like the wetsuit of a snake, and I found myself naked, with the warmth of Martina's skin. Her whisper became lighter and lighter, her mouth closer and closer, until it touched me, to feel the warm contact of her lips.
Her tongue sweet, warm, smooth, I felt it in my mouth, glued to mine, which was searched for in a tumult of sensations, with her heart beating wildly, her breathless breathing, her head spinning faster and faster.
Then the heat of her sex contrasting with my thigh, and her soft flesh rubbing against me, stronger and stronger and faster and faster. Then a kind of oblivion takes over, in which she starts kissing me all over my body, and I reciprocate her, until both mouths stick to our wet sexes. Martina licks and kisses my pussy like no man ever could. I change her and I feel that she enjoys it too, her moods come out copious, my lips and chin, nose and cheeks wet, I smell her smell, her thighs tightening my face, my abdomen muscles contracting, her choked scream that signals me a sudden orgasm, followed shortly after my explosion, that leaves me breathless, without strength even to scream.
I turn off the light and the room goes dark again, I feel her light breath, like that of a sleeping child. Outside it has started raining again, big gusts of wind make the shutters tremble, and the roar of water rumbles against the glass, washing the windows.
As if by a strange primordial instinct, I approach Martina and hold her close to me, to feel her warmth, to give and seek that security that the threatening bad weather seems to jeopardize.
She wakes up and smiles at me, then holds me tight and kisses me. I reciprocate her effusions and slowly we start making love again.
