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Laying me down on the bed, he fitted himself snuggly between my thighs. My hips, as if summoned by their master, hitched up to meet his. He teased my mouth with his own, nibbled, licked, and petted until I was clay in his hands. I kissed him back passionately, pouring all the love I had for him into that connection. Would this heat between us ever recede? Would we ever get enough of each other?
His expression was worshipful when he broke the kiss and stroked the hair off my forehead. “I want you to let me in. I want you to trust me.”
The weight of all the words I couldn’t say pressed down painfully on my chest. How could I tell him that was an impossible request? I didn’t have the heart to drive the stake through his fragile hopes. I couldn’t respond so I did the only thing I could, I kissed him until all thought ceased and only pleasure existed between the two of us.
We moved with the grace of two people in synch with each other. Those expressive, liquid pools of fire trained on every sigh, every twitch. My hands stroked the silky skin of his well-muscled back, traveled lower, over the dip at the base of his spine and underneath his jeans, where I discovered that he was naked. His lips kicked up on one side. I squeezed the globes of his backside, and he nudged me in answer with his aroused body.
“Let me in,” he whispered, as he made love to me. I didn’t know how to respond because he was already there, fastened onto my heart.
* * *
“What does that mean? Now that Argentina defaulted.”
We fell into a comfortable routine, meeting in his bedroom after eleven. We spoke for hours at night, in between wild sex and gentle lovemaking. Sometimes I didn’t know what was better, the mind blowing orgasms or the mind blowing conversations. I wouldn’t have wanted to do without either one.
“It’s not the first time they’ve defaulted,” he said as he loosened his tie. Work had kept him at the office late all week. It was costing him. I could tell from the shade under his eyes that the pain in his leg was bothering him.
“It’s just crazy that one hedge fund can hold so much Argentine debt that they can decided to sink an entire country…it sounds like extortion.”
“Negotiations broke down when the hedge fund refused to take pennies on the dollar,” he explained. “It’s getting ugly…they’ve been shut out of foreign capital markets for too long. Inflation is over twenty-five percent.”
When he sat on the bed to remove his pants, I instinctively reached for him and raked my fingers through his hair. A weary sigh escaped his lips and his eyelids grew heavy, fluttering shut.
“This sounds like some far-fetched Hollywood thriller. Can’t the American government do something? Isn’t that what they do? Save the world from all villains?”
“You don’t have anything against Americans, do you?” he asked, smirking.
“I happen to love all things American,” I replied softly, then stiffened, realizing I had inadvertently used the word ‘love’. He stood up and wrapped me in his arms, as if he sensed my impulse to retreat.
“So what is there to do for poor Argentina?” I asked, trying to pivot away from the serious moment.
“The president can bail Argentina out under a principal known as comity. He needs to inform the federal judge handling the case that the suit brought by the hedge fund against the Argentine government interferes with his ability to conduct foreign policy and the judge will dismiss the suit.” He placed a delicate kiss on the tip of my nose, released me and continued undressing.
“I told Marianne that I’m going to dry out this weekend…I told her that I need you with me,” he said, without making eye contact. I watched him throw his navy trousers onto the chair next to the fireplace. Without thought, I picked them up and hung them neatly on a wooded hanger. When I turned towards him, he was staring with a spark of amusement in his eyes.
“What did she say?”
I wanted to be there for him, but Mrs. Arnaud had a keen mind; she would find it suspicious.
“She said it was a good idea. Unless I wanted to go do it at a clinic, and I have absolutely no intension of doing that.”
“Did you speak to your orthopedist?”
“Yeah, he said the NSAIDs should be enough and to make an appointment to see him soon.” He removed his dress shirt and threw it on the ground. I walked over, picked it up, and placed it in the hamper.
“What’s so funny?”
“Nothing,” he answered, his voice on the verge of breaking out in laughter.
He stripped his boxer briefs off and handed them to me. I took them from him and placed them in the hamper as well.
