The reflection of the lake
The train arrived at the small station when the sun began to brown the treetops. Elena came down with her light suitcase and the map folded in her jacket pocket. The air smelled like resin and cold water. The driver of the hostel was waiting for her with a sign written by hand and, during the fifteen minutes of the journey, no one spoke more than necessary. Elena observed the forest opening its way to the lake. That afternoon she had closed the studio with three pending projects and a feeling that something was escaping her. The lake, the shelter, the silence: three decisions that only she had made.
The cabin corresponded to number three. It had a porch, a fireplace and a wide bed that was seen from the door. On the bedside table there was a pitcher of water and a note written by hand by the owner: "Welcome, Elena. The lake is deeper than it looks." He smiled, left his suitcase, took off his shoes and opened the window. The sun was standing on the silver surface. He took off his jacket, then his shirt and was left with only the soft cotton underwear. No one saw it, except the reflection of the lake and his own breathing that had become slower without her deciding.
He went down barefoot to the shore. The water grazed his ankles. He knelt down, put his hands and wet his neck. The cold went up his arms and hardened his nipples against the light cloth. He lay on the blanket he had carried, leaned his back on the grass and looked at the sky. He thought about his last relationship, how he had always expected the other to start. That night he didn’t expect anything. He just wanted to notice his own body without haste, without demands. He passed his palm through the belly and noticed the heat rising from the pubis. He stopped. He listened to his breathing, the slight creak of the leaves. He passed his fingers again, this time down, above the underwear. The brush was soft, almost absent. He closed his eyes and allowed himself not to have to explain anything.
The twilight went deep into dark blue. He lit an oil lamp on the porch table and poured a glass of wine that he had brought. The first sip warmed his throat and slowed down to his stomach. He sat with his legs crossed, his shirt loose, and looked at the reflection of the light on the water. He listened to steps on the gravel before seeing the silhouette. A woman went down the side path, with a towel on her shoulder and hair picked up. He stopped a few meters away and raised her hand in polite gesture of greeting. Elena responded with the same calmness. The woman got close enough for the light to come to her face. She had brown skin, a marked jaw and a look that she did not ask, just watched.
"Excuse me," said the newcomer. "I didn't know this cabin was occupied this week.
Elena pointed to number four, 20 metres away.
"I have just arrived," he replied. "You may come in."
The woman presented herself as Claudia. She was a biologist, she had been working three summers in the amphibian study of the lake. She spoke little and accurately, as she was accustomed to measuring silence. Elena offered her wine. Claudia accepted and sat on the edge of the porch, barefooted feet on the wood. Her dress was white linen, fine. Through the cloth she guessed the contour of the breasts and the dark nipple. Elena looked away for a second, then held it. There was no shame. Only the certainty that both had chosen to be there.
They talked about frogs and house plans, the way the water reflects the light at sunset and how the desire to stay in a place is measured. Claudia had a fine scar on her forearm and pointed out it without dramatism: a scalpel cut during a practice. Elena, without thinking about it, extended her hand and rubbed the mark with her thumb. The contact lasted less than a second, but Claudia’s skin was visibly erect. None commented. The silence became dense, not uncomfortable. Elena felt the pulse in her temples and a heat under her navel that she did not attempt to disguise.
Claudia got up to leave when the stars were already many. Elena accompanied her to the trail. Before leaving, Claudia turned and said:
"Come tomorrow to the dock at dawn. Bring only what you need to swim."
Elena nodded. She went back to the cabin, closed the door and stood in the dark. She took off her T-shirt and underwear. She looked in the small mirror of the bathroom. The breasts were heavy, the nipples were hard. She passed her hands through them, slowly, without tightening. She went down to the pubis and separated her lips with two fingers. She was wet, not soaked, just ready. She lay down without turning on the light and covered herself with the light sheet. The rubbing of the cotton against the skin was enough for the clitoris to respond with a soft heartbeat. She did not touch. She waited. The pulse between her legs marked the rhythm of the night.
It dawned with low fog. Elena went down to the pier with a towel and the long t-shirt she wore in a nightgown. Claudia was already there, sitting on the edge, with her feet in the water. She wore a black swimsuit in a piece that was glued to her body like a second skin. She turned when she heard it and smiled with the corner. There was no presentation. Both of them stood up and slipped into the lake without talking. The water was cold, but Elena’s body adapted quickly. They swam slowly, parallel, without competing. Each stroke removed the desire they had left in the air the night before. At one point, Claudia stopped and stayed on her back. Elena did the same thing to her side. The sky was clear. The cold hardened the nipples of both against the soaked cloth. Elena felt the splash of water between her legs and a lashe of pleasure that went up the column. She did not move. He let the body float and the desire spread like a hot spot in the belly.
They went back to the pier. Claudia took off her swimsuit without looking at Elena, as if the gesture was natural. The naked body appeared: flat belly, hair trimmed in a dark line, firm breasts with wide aureoles. Elena remained quiet for a second, then took off her soaked t-shirt. They both looked. None of them were covered. Claudia stretched her hand out and brushed Elena’s left nipple with the back of her fingers. The contact was electric. Elena felt how the nipple hardened even more and how the heat went straight down to the clitoris. She breathed deep. Claudia repeated the gesture on the other side, slower. Elena closed her eyes and let the pulse go up to her face.
"Come to my cabin," said Claudia. "I have coffee and time."
They went in together. Claudia’s cabin was smaller, with a bed that occupied almost the entire space. Claudia prepared coffee in a stove and served it in two sugar-free cups. Elena sat on the edge of the bed, still naked, with the towel around her shoulders. The coffee warmed her hands. Claudia knelt in front of her without asking for permission, just with the look she was asking for. Elena nodded. Claudia left the cup aside and leaned her hands on Elena’s knees, opening them slowly. The brushing of the thumbs on the inner thighs caused a tremor that Elena did not hold back. Claudia bowed and kissed the skin just above her knee. The kiss was wet, prolonged. She went up the thigh with her mouth open, leaving a trail of saliva that the air cooled. When she reached the pubis, she stopped and looked up.
- Tell me if you want me to stop.
"Don't stop," answered Elena.
Claudia separated her older lips carefully and brushed the clitoris with her flat tongue. Elena felt the contact as a heartbeat spreading throughout her belly. Claudia licked slowly, without haste, rising and descending, varying the pressure. Elena leaned her hands on the mattress and put her head back. Her neck was exposed and Claudia, without leaving her licking, went up one hand and brushed the jugular with two fingers. The contrast between her hot tongue and cold fingers made Elena clench her thighs. Claudia introduced a finger, slowly, curving it up. Elena groaned under, a sound that came out of her throat without her calling it. Her finger moved in circles, looking for the point she knew it was there. When she found it, Elena arched her back and the clitoris palpated against Claudia’s tongue.
Claudia added a second finger and increased the speed of her tongue. Elena felt that the orgasm was approaching from a very far distance, like a wave that was slow to break. She breathed through her mouth, tried to contain it and then decided not to. The climax came in long waves, contractions that tightened Claudia’s fingers and strained her belly. When she finished, Claudia did not turn away immediately. She kept licking softly, picking up the moisture, until Elena touched her hair to indicate that it stopped. Claudia climbed up Elena’s body kissing her belly, the sternum, the gap between her breasts. She lay beside her and hugged her from behind, with an open hand on her left chest. Elena felt Claudia’s heart against her back and her own heartbeat still accelerated between her legs.
They spent the morning like this, alternating the silence with short phrases. Elena said she had designed a house that was never built because the client changed her mind. Claudia spoke of a frog that only sings when there is a full moon. At noon they went down to the pier again. The sun was high. They swam naked, dried up in the air and returned to Elena’s cabin. This time it was Elena who knelt down. Claudia let herself do, with her hands in Elena’s hair, guiding without squeezing. Elena learned Claudia’s rhythm: when to lick faster, when to suck, when to stop for the desire to accumulate. Claudia came to orgasm with a long groan that Elena kept in her memory as a new sound.
In the afternoon, she went on walks along the path that surrounds the lake. They walked barefoot, stopped to look at frogs, shared a bread that Claudia had brought. Every time they rubbed, the contact lasted a little longer. At dusk they returned to the shore. Claudia spread a blanket and lay face up. Elena stood on top, astounded, and let the weight of their bodies speak. They kissed slowly, with the tongue she explored and withdrew. Elena lowered her hand and found Claudia wet again. She inserted two fingers and moved her wrist in circles. Claudia opened her legs and let the pleasure roam her without resistance. When orgasm came, Claudia bit Elena’s shoulder, not strong, just enough for Elena to know that she was present.
The last night they shared Elena’s bed. There was no rush. They undressed with the moonlight entering through the window. Claudia kissed every vertebrae from Elena’s spine, from the back of her neck to the coxis. Elena felt Claudia’s breathing caressing her skin. She turned and asked Claudia to lie down. She stood between her legs and licked her until Claudia asked, with a broken voice, to enter her. Elena inserted three fingers and moved her hand decisively. Claudia ran with a choked scream and nails nailed to Elena’s shoulders. Then Elena fell to her side and Claudia caressed her until she also arrived, with Claudia’s mouth on her neck and two fingers inside, slow and precise.
At dawn, Elena woke up alone. Claudia had left a note on the bedside table: "The train leaves at ten. If you want me to take you, I will be at the pier." Elena dressed, picked up her suitcase and came down. Claudia was standing, with her black swimsuit and an open jacket. They didn't talk about the future. They kissed once, slowly, and Elena got into the car that would take her to the station. During the journey she looked at the lake through the rearview mirror. The reflection of the water was still there, keeping what had happened without having to tell.
On the train, Elena opened the laptop and started designing a house with a porch that would hit the water. I didn’t know if I would come back. I knew that if I did, it would be because she had decided. Desire was no longer something I expected. It was something I named.
Comments