Elvira's red veil
The elevator stopped on the top floor and the doors opened with a metallic whisper. Clara crossed the threshold of the attic and let the aroma of warm wood and jasmine wrap it. Elvira waited in the hallway, barefoot on the grey carpet, with a long robe of ivory silk that rubbed just her ankles. The high neck of the garment barely allowed to see the black lace that appeared through the clavicle.
"Good evening," said Clara, taking off her coat and letting the bluish light from the lamps light up her tight grey wool dress. "Do you still want it to be tonight?
Elvira smiled, the lips painted from a dark burgundy that softened the stroke of her jaw. She came close enough to perceive Clara’s perfume: bergamot and vetiver.
"Only if you wish. We can talk about it again before we start."
They entered the living room. The curtains were drawn, but the city beat behind them, a constant blink of lights. On the low marble table rested two cups of water with ice and a small red leather notebook. Next to the notebook, a black pen and a grey silk ribbon the thickness of a shoestring.
Clara sat on the edge of the sofa. Elvira stood, her hands intertwined in front of the body.
“Remember,” he said, speaking as slowly as he used to unbutton his blouses, “we can stop at any moment. The word of security is “veil.” If you feel you need to pause, say “veil.” If you can’t speak, raise two fingers. Are you clear?
“Watch.” Two fingers. Yes,” Clara repeated. “His voice sounded firm, but the skin of his wrists stood up as he imagined the silk ribbon.
Elvira took the notebook and opened it. On the first page there was already a short list written by hand:
Hard limits: permanent marks, blood, asphyxiation. Soft limits: blindfolds only if confirmed at the time. Preferences: textures, low voice, guided with touch. Aftercare: soft blanket, water, long hugs.
"This is what we agreed last time," Elvira explained, sitting across the table. "Do you want to add or remove something?
Clara read the list and shook her head.
"It's still valid. I just wish if you use the tape, don't press it until I ask for more pressure.
"Understood," Elvira nodded. "He wrote down the clarification and closed the notebook. "Then we begin when you decide. I will wait for your sign.
Clara took a deep breath. The silence of the attic became dense, like a cloth that gradually adjusted to the body. She lifted her chin and pronounced the first word of the ritual.
-Start.
Elvira quickly joined. She walked to the cherry furniture where she kept the underwear Clara had chosen weeks ago. She opened the top drawer and pulled out three pieces wrapped in silk paper: a French wine lace bra, high-cut panties with the same tone and a garter that looked woven with threads of light. She left them on the table, separated, without touching each other.
"Undress," he asked, "but the order sounded more like an invitation. Its tone contained the same texture as the silk paper: soft, crisp, easy to break.
Clara got up. She slipped her shoes under the sofa and lowered the side zipper of the grey dress. The fabric fell to her hips like a fog curtain and revealed her slightly cold skin along the night path. She did not wear a bra. The nipples were hardened to contact the air of the living room. She also took off the black cotton panties and left them bent over the sofa arm.
She was completely naked, except for the fine gold necklace she never took off. Elvira looked at her from top to bottom, but she didn’t get close yet. Instead, she picked up the lace bra and held it in her hands as if she weighed her weight.
"Come," he said.
Clara took three steps. Elvira surrounded her torso with her arms and placed the garment against her skin. The lace was rigid by the rings, but the inner lining was lined with silk. The contrast between the outer embroidery and the inner softness caused Clara to close her eyes for a second.
"He breathes," Elvira whispered, fastening the back closure. "The fingers rubbed the spine, descended to the lumbar curve, and went up again, tracing each vertebra as if it were a secret that was told only by touch.
Then he placed his panties. He bowed down, opened them and waited for Clara to put one foot in, then the other. He climbed the garment inch by inch, making sure that the lace settled exactly on the line where the skin of the abdomen became more sensitive. When he reached the hips, he adjusted the elastic with two fingers, without rushing.
The league was the last thing. Elvira rolled it over the right thigh, then over the left, and fixed each league to the panties with a soft click of the metal clasps. Every time a brooch closed, a small tug scoured Clara’s skin, as a reminder that the body no longer belonged entirely to her.
"Turn around," Elvira asked.
Clara turned on herself. Elvira observed the result: the color came from the lace highlighted the paleness of the skin, and the league marked the beginning of the turn of the buttocks. Clara’s breathing had become deeper, but it was still paused. Elvira placed herself behind her and, without touching her yet, drew her mouth to her ear.
"Now the tape," he said. "Do you still agree?
- Yeah.
Elvira took the grey ribbon and unwrapped it. The fabric was so thin that it almost looked smoke between her fingers. She surrounded Clara’s waist twice and added a loose loop at the height of her low back. The knot was loose enough to allow movement, but firm enough to remind her that it existed.
"Walk to the window," Elvira said, sitting on the sofa.
Clara obeyed. The cold wood floor contrasted with the warmth of the lace. Upon arriving at the curtain, she stopped and waited. Elvira did not call her. She only observed it, letting time stretch like silk. Waiting was part of the game; desire grew in space that was not occupied.
After a minute, Elvira spoke again.
- Come back.
Clara returned to the center of the living room. Elvira rose up and surrounded her slowly. With the fingertips she drew the upper edge of the bra, following the curve where the fabric was with the skin. Then she went down to the panties and slipped a single finger through the side seam, without introducing it inside. The contact was almost electrical, but contained the promise that she could withdraw at any time.
"Kneel," Elvira said, pointing to a cushion she had placed on the carpet.
Clara knelt, her knees separated to the width of her hips. Elvira placed herself in front of her and opened the ivory silk robe. Below she wore a black lace body that covered the torso and ended up in a high ass. The stockings, of authentic silk, shone with bluish reflections under the light. The body had an opening on the back, closed with three fine ribbons of satin. Elvira turned on herself so that Clara could see her back.
"Touch only the ties," he allowed.
Clara raised her hands. Her fingers brushed the silk, following each loop from the knot to the fall of the ribbon. She did not untie any. She only explored the texture, the way the satin warmed up with skin contact. Elvira sighed, barely audible, and turned again.
- Now you can untie the first one.
Clara healed the upper loop. The satin slipped between her fingers and the opening opened a few centimeters. Elvira did not move. Clara waited for the following indication.
- Second.
Another bow gave way. Elvira’s skin appeared between the two lace halves, a vertical strip from the base of the neck to the lumbar curve. Clara held her breath.
"Third bond," Elvira whispered.
The last knot fell apart. The body opened completely in the back, revealing the spine and the soft depression between the shoulder blades. Elvira let the garment fall forward, held only by the straps on her shoulders. She stepped back and looked back at Clara.
"You can touch the skin now," he said. "With your palm open.
Clara’s hands went up Elvira’s back. The heat of the skin contrasted with the coldness of the lace that still surrounded the torso. Clara drew slow circles between the shoulder blades, feeling the muscles relaxed under contact. Elvira let a long sigh escape and closed her eyes.
"Below," he asked.
Clara lowered her hands to the waist, then to the top of her buttocks. The body now fell on the hips like a second wrinkled skin. Elvira bowed slightly forward, offering more surface. Clara took advantage of the gesture to slide the palms to the back of the thighs, where the league was in the middle.
"Enough," Elvira said with a soft voice. "Get up.
Clara joined her. Elvira took her by the hand and led her to the adjoining room. There, the bed was covered by a creamy thick linen quilt. On the quilt rested a light grey cashmere blanket. Next to the bed, on an auxiliary table, there was a glass of water, a small jar of almond oil and a clean linen handkerchief.
"Lie face up," Elvira said. "Arms to the sides.
Clara obeyed. The fresh linen stuck to her back. Elvira went up to the bed and knelt beside her. She took the jar of oil, opened it and poured a few drops into the palm of her hand. She warmed the oil between the two hands before touching Clara’s skin.
The first contact was in the sternum. The oil slipped through the skin, leaving a bright trail that caught the light from the lamp. Elvira extended the oil to the sides, covering the lower corner of the breasts above the bra lace. Then it went down the abdomen, avoiding the panties for now. Each movement was measured, almost hypnotic.
Clara closed her eyes. The oil penetrated the skin slowly, leaving a feeling of warmth that spread towards the extremities. Elvira continued to the hips, then surrounded her thighs, going down the inner face but stopping before reaching the crotch. The contrast between firm pressure of the hands and the absence of contact in the most sensitive areas made Clara’s body vibrate with a pleasant tension.
"Give me your hand," Elvira asked.
Clara stretched out her right hand. Elvira spilled a drop of oil on her wrist and massaged it with her thumb, tracing circles that went from the bone to the base of her fingers. Then she repeated the process with the other hand. The contact on the wrists, so close to the place where the tape had been before, caused Clara to slightly tighten her thighs.
Elvira smiled, but commented nothing. Instead, she returned to the table and took the linen handkerchief. She folded it into a wide strip and held it in front of Clara’s eyes.
"Do you want me to cover your eyes?" he asked. "You can say no.
Clara thought for a second. The bandage was not on the hard limits, but it was a soft limit that required confirmation.
"Yes," he accepted.
Elvira placed the handkerchief over Clara’s eyes and gently added it to her neck. The linen was fresh and smelled like lavender. The darkness was instantaneous, but not oppressive. Clara heard the silk rub when Elvira moved on the bed.
For a while nothing happened. Only the sound of both of them breathing and the occasional rubbing of the quilt when Elvira changed her posture. Waiting in the dark made Clara’s skin more receptive. Each current of air seemed amplified.
Then she felt something different: a pen. Elvira had pulled a bird pen out of the table drawer. She passed it through Clara’s collarbone, then through the edge of the bra, tracing the lace without touching the skin directly. The tingling was so light that Clara could barely distinguish it from the air. The pen went down the abdomen, surrounded the navel and continued through the inner thighs. Every time she approached the crotch, she stopped and changed direction.
Clara bit the lower lip. Desire was accumulating in waves, but the bandage and slowness of contact prevented her from concentrating on a single point. It was a distributed tension, almost musical.
Elvira left the pen aside and bowed over Clara. Her warm breath brushed her neck, then went down to the sternum. She kissed the skin where the oil was still shining. The kiss was soft, just a touch of lips. Then another, further down. Each kiss was a hot spot that spread to the rest of the body.
"You can touch me," Elvira allowed, holding Clara's hand and placing it on her hip.
Clara’s fingers explored Elvira’s bare back skin, feeling the muscles that tightened and relaxed under contact. Elvira moved until she was strung over Clara’s abdomen, without supporting all the weight. Clara’s body opening rubbed Clara’s skin every time Elvira leaned forward.
Elvira took Clara’s hand and led her to her own chest, above the lace of the body. Clara felt the nipple hardened under the cloth. She squeezed slightly with two fingers, feeling Elvira respond with a contained sigh.
"More strongly," Elvira asked.
Clara increased the pressure, pinching carefully through the lace. Elvira arched her back and let a low moan escape. Then she took Clara’s hand and lowered it to her own crotch, above the fabric of the ass. The heat that emanated was different from that of the rest of the skin; more intense, more humid.
"Now you can unbutton the league," Elvira said, guiding Clara's fingers to the pins.
Clara unbuttoned her right thigh first, then her left thigh. Each brooch released a tension that spread through Elvira’s leg. Then Elvira got up just to remove her body completely. She dropped it to the ground and sat back, now completely naked except for the silk stockings.
Clara could not see, but she could feel the heat of Elvira’s body closer. Elvira took Clara’s hand and placed it between her thighs. Her fingers found moisture and heat, and Elvira guided them with slow movements.
"Thus," he whispered, "soft circles.
Clara followed the directions. Elvira moved over her fingers, controlling pressure and speed. Every few seconds she emitted a low sound, almost a sigh that vibrated in Clara’s chest. The blindfold made the rest of the senses sharpen: Elvira’s smell, the sound of her breathing, the rubbing of the stockings against Clara’s skin.
After a while, Elvira took Clara’s hand and withdrew it. She bowed forward and kissed Clara on her lips, this time more deeply. Elvira’s tongue explored Clara’s mouth as slowly as she had used throughout the ritual. Clara responded, arching her neck to reach her better.
Elvira turned away and untied the bandage. The light of the living room came back suddenly, but it was soft, sifted by the paper lamps. Clara blinked, adjusting to Elvira’s naked vision, the stockings still on, the lips swollen by the kisses.
"Now it's your turn," Elvira said, sliding to the feet of the bed.
She placed herself between Clara's legs and put her panties down deliberately slowly. The lace brushed the skin of her thighs, leaving a trail of heat. When the panties reached her ankles, Elvira left them there, rolled up like a slight tie that did not prevent the movement but remembered the presence of the cloth.
Then he bowed and kissed the inner face of Clara’s right thigh, just above the league. The kiss was wet, prolonged. He climbed inch to inch, stopping before reaching the center. He repeated the process in the left thigh. Each kiss left a trail of saliva that cooled to contact with the air.
When he got to the crotch, Elvira stopped and looked at Clara.
"May I?" he asked.
"Yes," replied Clara, the voice snores for the desire contained.
Elvira lowered her head and licked her tongue flat, from the entrance to the clitoris. The contact was hot and humid, and Clara arched her hips without being able to avoid it. Elvira placed a hand in Clara’s abdomen to keep her in place, while the other hand slipped between the folds.
Elvira’s fingers entered easily, curving upwards in search of the point she knew Clara needed. At the same time, the tongue drew circles around the clitoris, alternating pressure and speed. Clara groaned, her hands grasping the quilt.
Elvira increased the rhythm, the fingers moving inside and outside while the tongue worked without rest. Clara felt the tension build up at the base of the spine, stretching towards the extremities. The bra lace brushed her nipples every time she breathed deep, adding another layer of sensation.
When the orgasm came, it was like a wave spreading from the center of the body out. Clara shouted, the body convulsing under Elvira’s hands. It did not stop immediately, but gradually reduced the intensity, accompanying the descent with soft kisses on the thighs.
When Clara completely relaxed, Elvira got on and went up the bed until she remained by her side. She took off her bra carefully, kissing every mark the lace had left on her skin. Then she got up and went to the bedside table for the cashmere blanket.
She covered Clara with the blanket and lay next to her, hugging her from behind. Elvira’s body was warm, the stockings still in place, the smell of her skin mixed with the scent of almond oil.
"Water," Elvira said, reaching the glass of the table.
Clara drank several sips. The water was cold and clean, and refreshed her dry throat. Elvira drank later, then left the glass and hugged her again.
"Tell me how you feel," he asked, his voice now lower, almost maternal.
"Well," replied Clara, turning to look at Elvira. "A little floating, as if everything were smoother.
Elvira smiled and kissed her forehead.
"That's the idea. Aftercare is as important as the scene. Your body needs time to come back.
They stayed like this for several minutes, the firm but not oppressive hug. Elvira caressed Clara’s arm with slow movements, from top to bottom, helping her to land again in her own body.
"Do you want me to take off your stockings?" asked Clara, pointing to Elvira's legs.
"Later," replied Elvira. "Now I just want to be here.
Clara nodded and closed her eyes. Elvira’s heartbeat was constant against her back. The attic seemed to have expanded, or perhaps shrunk, until it occupied only the space of the bed.
After a while, Elvira joined and went to the bathroom. She returned with a damp and hot cloth. She carefully cleaned Clara’s body, eliminating the remains of oil and saliva. The cloth was soft, the perfect temperature. Clara let herself be done, delivered to care.
When she finished, Elvira took off her stockings and got under the blanket with Clara. The hug this time was frontal, skin-on-skin, no fabric barriers.
"Thank you," said Clara, the voice already firmer.
"Thanks to you for trusting," Elvira replied. "Every time we repeat this, I learn something new about you. And about me.
Clara smiled and kissed Elvira's lips, a slow and grateful kiss.
"Can we talk about next time tomorrow morning?" he asked.
"Sure," Elvira said. "But now he sleeps. I wake you up with coffee and toast.
Clara closed her eyes again. Elvira’s heartbeat accompanied her to sleep, constant, sure, like the silk ribbon that was still lying on the quilt, silent witness to the ritual they had shared.
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