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CHERRY BLOSSOMS // Revisited // Montréal // 3.5
🕑 Added 2022-05-14 00:00:03 +0000 UTCThe water was cold at first, but once you were in, it felt pretty great. If you kept your arms close to your body too long, when you lifted them again, you got a frigid shock in your armpits. But the water was deep enough that Nia spent most of the time paddling and treading water, and that kept her nice and warm.
Odie was working her little body overtime, gearing herself up for an early power-crash once they ate. O was on cloud nine with this inflatable castle and having her daddy patiently treading in the deep water, letting her jump to him over and over again, Geoff never tiring. She’d bounce at the knees, getting ready, and Geoff would clap his hands and urge her and Odie would hesitate and vacillate, and he’d keep after her until she clamped her nose and jumped to his outstretched arms with her legs tucked up and one arm pointed straight up like she was Michael Jackson. Those two. Father and daughter, best friends. Geoff was going to have a heartbreak on his hands when that little girl discovered boys.
Nia waded over to the dock and fished through her shorts, grabbed her iPhone and bobbed back, holding it high out of the water—not wanting to ruin yet another phone. She swam behind Geoff and put her hand on his shoulder. “Let me get this,” she said, and waved the phone so he knew.
Geoff bounced his eyebrows, a white smile parting his soaking blonde beard. She kicked her legs and swam to the inflatable’s edge, a lower section, with squeaky red plastic stairs. She hauled herself out and scooted her butt down so she could get Geoff and Odie recorded. Odie was waiting for her, dancing in place, doing some sort of crazy Mash Potato, her arms pumping straight up and down, alternating, skinny hips swinging, her bottom lip sucked into her mouth and biting it. Then, when she saw her smiling mom holding the phone, she turned to her dad and asked him if he was ready. Nia had them both in the shot and her heart swelled watching them. The love they had for each other.
Odie bounced at the knees again, acting with more trepidation than she probably felt, hamming it up because she loved her dad and she loved to have his attention. The more she hesitated, the longer Geoff waited for her. Geoff would wait all day and never say a bad word. Then Odie was off, jumping in the air, nose plugged, a cannonball splash between Geoff’s waiting arms, his head whipping back, face twisted up so he wouldn’t get water in his nose. She got it recorded, put the phone down, held it to her wet skin and watched the two of them out there, Geoff taking O by her arms and swimming her back to the stairs.
Dino was on the shore. That asshole. He was out there in his shorts, shirt off, showing off the muscle. He caught her looking, and she looked back at Geoff and Odie. Weirdest fucking thing having Dino back in her life on a now somewhat regular basis. She knew it would be weird working with Rocco, but she did not know Dino would be around so much.
“Did you get me, Mom?”
“Yeah, Odie, I got you, sweetheart,” she said.
Odie was climbing up the steps to come and see, running her hands over her face and pushing her wet black hair back, blinking and spitting water.
“Did you?”
“Yeah, come see, O.”
Odie came to her, and Geoff bobbed over, put his hands on Nia’s knees while he paddled in the water below. She angled it so they both could watch. Odie bent at the waist, both her hands on her knees, dripping water from the tip of her nose while she watched the video.
Nia could see Maria now, up at the deck that ran along the basement level. Rocco was below, at the grills. He had two on the go, and he was smoking a pork roast in a Big Green Egg as well. He was happy and content, puttering around, entertaining his friends and drinking enough beers that he showed a warm glow. Maria was nagging him about something. She had Peter held against her, his fat legs hanging out of his diaper and straddling her hip.
She never got shit like that when she saw it. Who the fuck did Maria think she was? Look at that goddamn house, Maria. I know the one you live in in the city too, it’s pretty fucking stunning as well. Why would she give Rocco a hard time? He’s out here cooking. Doesn’t she appreciate how hard he works for her, all he does for her? Maybe Maria should spend a day in the truck with him, get a perspective on all that he does to provide for his family.
She said to Geoff, “You think I should go help in the kitchen?”
Geoff shook his head.
“I’d like to help,” she said.
Geoff just kept shaking his head, not looking her in the eye, a solemn expression.
She said, “You don’t think so?”
Still shaking his head, now scrunching up his nose and twisting his mouth in his beard.
She was going to ask him why not when a jet-ski started on the other side of the dock. A dry rattle, exhaust chugging. Then loud revving, water spraying in a rooster tail. She looked—Dino. No life jacket, bare chested on the machine. Dino looked around, saw her watching, then blasted off, going way too fast with all these kids around. She watched him go, watched the muscles of his wide back flex. He was always so grouchy, always irritated by something.
Geoff said, “Nia,” lightly tapping her knee.
“What?”
“Boss man’s looking for you,” he said, hugging the side of the bouncy castle and throwing a thumb over his shoulder.
Rocco was on the deck, getting her attention, waving a spatula at her.
“Gotta go,” she said to Odie and Geoff, and she scooted her butt along the side of the big inflatable and dipped back into the water where the stairs met the surface. She swam to the dock on her back, phone held up out of the water. She climbed up the dock, saw she had no towel. So she slid her phone back into her shorts and left them there, slipped on her flip-flops and walked up the dock in just the bikini, giving Geoff a little wave as he swam himself into position again. Odie was running up the side of the castle and she yelled she was going to climb up to the turret, but Nia knew there was no way her daughter would find the nerve to jump from that height.
Male eyes followed her up the lawn as she walked to see Rocco. She folded her arms up and tried to cover a little, self-conscious suddenly.
“What’s up?” she said to Rocco’s back as she got to the barbecue.
“Huh?” he said and turned, “Ay, Nia, what does your crew want to eat? Hot dogs, hamburgers, the pork is ready in about ten-fifteen . . . Geoff want a pulled pork?”
“I do,” she said.
“You do?”
“Yeah. Odie will take one hot dog. Geoff’s a hamburger guy.”
“You want pulled pork?”
“I want to try your pulled pork.” She was waiting for a lewd reference, but it didn’t come. She watched his enormous hands work as he flipped the burgers on the grill. He dwarfed the human-sized spatula with those big strong mitts.
He looked at her again, did a double take, said, “Ay, where’s your wine?”
“I’m dry.”
“Shit, Nia, get yourself a glass of wine.”
“What do you have?”
Rocco put the spatula down and pulled Doug over and shoved him in front of the grills, saying, “Take over.” Doug nodded and took up the spatula.
“Come on, let me show you something,” Rocco said, and headed to the sliding glass doors.
“Rocco, I’m dripping wet—I don’t even know where my towels are.”
“Take mine,” he said and reached between two people talking at the railing of the deck and snagged a big beach towel. “Come here,” he said, and she walked to him. He held the towel out. “Turn around.”
She turned, and Rocco put the towel over her shoulders, hands on her through the dry terry fabric. He rubbed her shoulders, and she felt the power he had even in that small act. Then he let her go. She dried herself off, squeezed her long hair out into the towel and tossed it back over the railing.
“Okay,” she said, opening her arms while he watched, showing him she was dry, wanting him to see her almost naked body. His eyes went over her, his face grim. He looked up to the upper deck unconsciously, up to where the kitchen was.
They went through the sliding glass doors and into the cool of the basement. Rocco led her down a short flight of wide concrete stairs, into a wide hall that had a sauna and a bathroom. It opened to a slightly lower section of the basement. Half-windows ran along the top of the wall, all along the lake side of the house. This was a plain, unfinished open area. Bare concrete floor, taped drywall walls, framed doors set along both sides, wedges still in them to keep them square. There were two purple-stained barrels pushed against the right wall, two blue plastic drums and two angle-iron shelving units with bottles and other assorted items. Stained wooden boxes were stacked against the wall, UVA PER VINO stencilled on them. Everything neatly organized, pushed to the side. Rocco walked to the shelf and took an unlabelled dark green bottle down. A cork was wedged into it, and he pulled it out with a squeaky pop.
“Try this,” he said, and he held the bottle out to her.
She took it from him and sniffed it. It was wine. Sweet and vinegary, she watched him suspiciously as she put the bottle up to her lips. She took a long sip. Not the best wine she tasted at all, but not completely terrible.
“You like it?” he asked her, putting an arm on the shelf, making it bend with his weight.
She stood holding the bottle still, gave him a coy smile, cocked a hip out. The two of them alone in the basement, her wearing practically nothing. She could see his eyes going over her, and she really liked it. She wanted Rocco to look. Over her shoulder, she could see the lower legs and waists of other guests out on the lawn in the sunlight, enjoying the party. She still felt very private with him in the quiet bowels of his huge cottage. “Yeah, why?” she said, narrowing her eyes, always suspecting something from him.
“It’s Maria’s wine. Homemade.”
“It’s nice. Yeah,” she said. “How’d she make it?”
“With her feet.”
She laughed. “With her feet?”
Rocco laughed too, a deep low sound. “Yeah, crushed the grapes with her feet.”
Nia exhaled, raised her eyebrows high, said, “Old school.”
Rocco said, “You think I’m kidding? She did it in a huge tub out on the lawn out there last summer,” he said, pointing with his chin out the window.
“Shit, that is hardcore Eye-Tie.”
He snorted, “Yeah, her family is wops ten times over compared to my folks, and you know what they’re like.”
She handed him the bottle back, and he put it on the shelf.
Rocco smirked. “You don’t want a glass of that?”
She shrugged, let her breasts heave in the light fabric of her top for him, let them sway.
“I get it,” he said, eyes calm and narrow. “Walk this way,” he said, and he went deeper into the empty room.
Rocco brought her to one of the doors, shimmed in a frame. The door itself was solid wood, a deep reddish colour, dry, not yet stained. He put a big hand on a brass lever, opened the door and pushed it wide for her to enter. “Go on,” he said.
“It’s dark,” she giggled.
“Ladies first,” he said and gestured with a hand for her to go ahead. She could see the floor lit up a foot or two into the room. Irregular granite flagstones, like a castle’s floor. She put a foot forward and stepped into the cool, dark space. Her skin went to goosebumps and the hair on her neck raised up. She felt her nipples clench hard and quick, felt her sensitive tips drag across the lycra underside of her bikini.
“Go on,” he said, coming in behind her. She could feel his enormous presence. Felt the heat of his body, felt something else radiating from him. Desire. His huge frame blocked out the light.
She had visions of him closing them in there and the two of them fucking against the wall, his powerful body crushing her up against stone, grabbing a knee and pulling one of her legs up and forcing himself deep inside her from behind as she cried out into a soundproof room . . .
He flicked a switch and the lights came on. They were in a custom-built wine cellar. The walls were cedar panels, the ceiling too; bright halogen spotlights lit up the edges of the room. There were racks of wine, two along the outer walls and a double-sided one, elbow height along the centre.
“Nice, she said,” and turned slowly, watched his face, watched his eyes lower to see her arousal. Knew her nipples were engorged buds pressing out against her top right now. She could feel the tightness, knew what Rocco would be seeing.
“Nice,” he agreed, looking at her chest. “So, what does pretty little Nia like to drink?” He turned and ran a hand along the tops of the bottles of wine stacked in racks on their sides. He walked to the other side of the rack, looking at the collection.
She said, “I like a Primitivo.”
“Of course you do,” he said and slid a bottle off the rack, dragging the glass along the metal edge. He came back to her. “You need a glass?”
He held the bottle out, and she held the end, the narrow neck poking out the end of her grip. “I’m not an animal.”
His eyes went up and down her and she felt that chill again, felt her buds clench tighter under her top. He said, “Maria wants to kick your tits off, walking around in that bikini.”
“My tits?” She laughed and put her hand over her chest, touching herself between the turquoise triangles of her top.
He nodded, looking at her hand on her chest, his eyes drawn to her.
“It’s just a bikini, what?”
“Right. Just a bikini.” He smirked.
“Well, should I change? What?”
He leaned on the rack and got close to her, right up near her ear, and said, “You change out of that bikini and you’re fuckin’ fired.”
She laughed. “Would she be mad if she caught us down here?” She tilted her head and twirled a finger through a lock of her wet hair.
Rocco watched her hands work, watched the splayed tips of her hair drip on her skin and tickle the flesh of her collar.
“Maria came down here, saw you in your bikini, talking to me like this in our windowless cellar . . . we’d both be dead.”
Nia laughed, leaned now against the top of the wine rack, too, a breast pressed by the end of a stacked bottle—knowing Rocco could see the tip of the bottle press her ample flesh. “How would she kill us?”
There was a noise outside of the cellar, someone on the basement level. A sliding glass door rumbled open, a shadow crossed the rough drywall out there.
He huffed, smirked, and his eyes took one more long and indulgent look at her almost naked body. He sucked his lower lip and hefted his weight off the rack and went to the door.
“I don’t wanna find out,” he said. He clicked the light off and turned the room dark except for the light from the open door.
She hesitated, thinking he might close the door on them in the dark, but that was crazy. His wife was here, his kids running around, Geoff and Odie, dozens of other potential disturbers. What did she think was going to happen?
Comments
Donkatsu
Should have better seen the sense of foreboding here with the darker themes, but most of us were too focused on their finally doing the deed at the convention. Nice misdirection with that bikini and wine cellar, KT.
