The silk tie on the roof balcony

The silk tie on the roof balcony

The roof of the top floor of his building still kept the heat of the asphalt that the July sun had heated for hours. Between rosemary pots and a row of white canvas pergolas, Elena had arranged a low table with a glass tray: a glass of cold water, two cups, a jar with cubes and, on one side, a wand of black velvet-lined wicker. Alvaro arrived punctually, with an open linen shirt on his neck and a bottle of red wine that he had already opened in the kitchen to breathe. They stopped in front without touching each other.

"Do you still agree with everything we talked about?" she asked. The voice was low, serene, without raising the tone.

“Yes.” “Álvaro’s response was immediate, but not run over.” Soft limit: thin underwear; hard limit: face. Security word: “moon.” Sign if I can’t speak: three slaps on the leg.

Elena nodded, satisfied. They had gone over the list the day before at the kitchen table, with a printed sheet and colored pens. Now only the ritual they already knew was missing: one of them would pronounce the word “we started” and from that moment the scene would belong to the space-time agreed.

"Start whenever you want," she said.

"It begins," answered Alvaro, and closed his eyes for a second.

Elena came close to a palm tree. She didn’t kiss him. She let the air between the two take off the fragrance of rosemary and the alcohol of wine that still evaporated in the bottle. She asked him to unbutton his shirt himself and let it fall to his feet. The garment landed on the hot tiles; Álvaro was left in pants and nothing else. Elena surrounded her torso slowly, as she walked through a canvas before deciding what stroke to give. She passed the back of her fingers through her clavicle and, upon reaching the sternum, let the palm fall open. She noticed how his pulse accelerated.

"Breath," she said, softly. "Below."

Álvaro released the air through his nose. Elena pulled out an ivory silk tie from the table. The fabric shone slightly with the reflection of the indirect lighting of the street lamps that reached the roof. Instead of tying it to the neck, he slipped it down the back of the man, from shoulder to shoulder, so that the tissue stroked the skin. Then he carried it forward and crossed it over the chest, forming an X that strained untightened. The knot remained at the base of the sternum; every time he breathed, the silk moved with the diaphragm.

“Now I’m going to blindfold you. If you want to stop, tell me “moon.”

• Yeah.

She picked up a light black gauze scarf that she had left on one of the pergolas. She folded it several times and adjusted it. The world disappeared for Álvaro. There was only the smell of rosemary, the distant touch of traffic and the touch of silk on her chest. Elena waited ten long seconds before touching it again. That wait was part of the game: anticipation turned into texture.

When he came back, he did it with silver satin gloves. He had bought them from a neighborhood merchant shop and had kept them expressly for tonight. He passed his palms through Alvaro’s arms from his shoulders to his wrists, then reversed the route. The satin did not scratch; it slipped. On his elbows he stopped to press slightly and notice how the muscles were tense. Álvaro issued a very low, almost inaudible sound. Elena smiled even though he could not see it.

• I want you to kneel down.

The roof floor had a rollable mat that she extended before she arrived. Álvaro came down carefully, guided by Elena’s hand on her shoulder. Once in position, she lifted her chin with two fingers. Her head was tilted upward, her neck exposed, her breathing slightly more agitated.

"I'm going to pass the tie from your chest to your wrists. I won't tighten it. You'll just feel the weight of the cloth. If the knot loosens, I'll put it back on. Okay?

• Okay.

She untied the X from her chest, releasing the knot. The silk slipped through her skin leaving a trail of residual heat. She picked up Alvaro’s hands, which remained resting on her thighs, and carried them to her back. With the same tie, she tied her wrists in parallel, a double loop that could be released pulling at one end. The loose tip grazed her fingers. Álvaro closed his fist; the fabric slipped between her index and thumb.

Elena took a step back. She watched the shoulder line, the bowing of her head, the way her breathing lifted and lowered the chest box. She liked that image: an adult man, strong, kneeling on a roof, blindfolded and wrists joined by a garment she normally wore at work meetings. The distance between the image and the context excited her more than any direct caress.

He approached again. This time he chose the velvet wand. He held it upright and leaned on Álvaro’s right shoulder blade, without pressing, just letting the weight of the object mark a point of reference. He slipped the wand down, down the spine, following each vertebrae. In the lumbar zone he stopped and drew a small circle. Alvaro bowed the pelvis forward without realizing it; the movement was involuntary. Elena corrected it with a light, but firm, pat on the left buttocks. The sound was dry and brief.

"Stay still," she said. "Immobility is also part of the game.

• Yeah.

The contrast between the light pressure of the velvet and the softness of the glove made Álvaro’s skin stand up. Elena noticed the reaction and decided to expand it. She knelt in front of him, so that her knees would remain on both sides of Álvaro’s thighs. Without touching him more than with her voice, she asked him to tilt the torso forward until the chest rubbed just the air she was offering him. The distance was millimetric. He could feel the heat of her skin, the perfume of her neck, but not the contact.

"Now I'm going to remove your bandage. I want you to open your eyes little by little.

The gauze fell. The light of the lanterns and a small LED flashlight that Elena had placed on the table struck Álvaro’s pupils. She blinked. She was very close, with her shirt open too, although underneath she wore a black lace bra with velvet straps. Nipples were marked under the cloth. Álvaro swallowed saliva.

"You can look at me," she said, "but don't touch me until I tell you.

• Yeah.

Elena joined and surrounded Álvaro until she stood behind him. She knelt again and passed her hands through the man’s sides, going up to her armpits and going down afterwards. The satin glove left a fresh trail. At the last pass she brushed her waist in the pants. She inserted a finger inside and threw it out, letting the garment down an inch. She repeated the operation on both sides until the pants were unbuttoned and open. She didn’t get it all down; she only dropped it on the hips, trapping the thighs.

"Now I'm going to use the wand again. You're going to feel the route, but I'm not going to mark you. I just want you to count out loud every time you notice a change of direction.

It started at the back of the neck. It went down to the first dorsal vertebrae. It shifted towards the left scapula. Álvaro said “one.” The wand went up again and went down to the right. “Two.” It went down to the base of the spine and turned to the left gluteal. “Three.” Each number was pronounced with a snoring voice, but clear. Elena varied the rhythm: sometimes the wand barely rubbed, other times pressing one more second. When she reached the “eight,” Álvaro breathed more deeply. She stopped and placed the wand vertically against her own palm, showing that she was no longer playing.

"You're all right," he said, "he didn't ask.

He helped Alvaro to stand up. The trousers slipped to his ankles; he took a small step to release him. He was left in dark grey organic cotton briefs. Elena picked up the garment from the ground and folded it carefully before leaving it on the table. The gesture of care was not casual; he reminded Álvaro that each object returned to its place at the end.

He asked her to sit in a wicker chair that she had placed under the largest pergola. The chair had thick cushions of raw linen. Álvaro settled down; Elena tied her ankles to the front legs of the chair with two lightweight cotton scarves. The knots were decorative: they were undone with a simple tug. The wrists were still attached to the back with the tie.

Elena strung around his knees without supporting his weight. “The lace of his bra brushed Álvaro’s chest. She bowed until his lips remained an inch away from his ear.

"I'm going to kiss you on the neck. Three kisses. Then you'll wait for ten breaths before asking for more. If you don't ask, we'll stop.

• Got it.

The first kiss was dry, almost formal, just under the jaw. The second brushed the skin with open lips, leaving a halo of moisture. The third was slower: she opened her mouth and took a piece of skin between her teeth without getting bitten. Álvaro told the breaths quietly. Upon reaching the eighth, his voice broke.

"Please," he whispered. "More."

Elena broke up just to look him in the eye.

• Where do you want the next kiss?

• In the sternum.

She lowered her head and fulfilled it. The kiss was longer; she used her tongue to draw a small bow. Then she sat up and asked him again.

• Inside the left thigh.

Elena slipped out of the chair and knelt between her legs. Alvaro’s pants were gone, but his briefs were. She kissed the skin just above the cloth, in the place where the muscle

Her breath was warm; the contrast with the temperature of the night caused Álvaro to contain a groan.

“Now I’m going to take your underwear off. You’re going to feel the air from the roof. If you want it to stop, say “moon.”

• No.

He lowered the garment slowly, releasing an inch to an inch. When he reached his ankles, he left it there, entangled with the handkerchiefs that held his feet. Alvaro’s body was completely exposed to the light breeze that went up from the street. Elena took a minute to look at it without touching. The erection was obvious, but she did not touch it. Instead, she picked up an ostrich plume from the table that she had bought from a decorating shop. She passed it through the inside of her thighs, going up and down without reaching the center. The contact was so light that it almost seemed like an idea more than a caress.

Álvaro closed his eyes again, although he was no longer wearing a bandage.

"I want you to look at me," Elena asked. "I want you to see how I move."

She opened her eyes. She stood up and unbuttoned her shirt completely. The garment fell on the tiles. Under the light of the LED flashlight, the lace bra looked like a second skin. Elena turned slowly, showing her back. The clasp of the bra was a row of tiny hooks. She unbuttoned them one by one, without haste. When she finished, she let the garment slide forward, held only by her arms. She did not let it go; she held it against her chest as she turned back to Álvaro.

"I can teach you," he said. "If you will."

• Yeah.

He dropped the bra. The movement was smooth, almost choreographic. The breasts were exposed; the nipples hardened to contact with fresh air. Elena approached the chair and bowed so that her breasts would stay at the height of Álvaro’s face. He did not touch them; he only looked at them.

“Now I’m going to sit on you,” she said. “No penetration. Just contact. If you ever need me to get up, say “moon.”

• Yeah.

He settled on his knees. Álvaro’s skin heat against his thighs was immediate. She moved slightly, adjusting the position, but without allowing the contact to become friction. He held his hands on his shoulders. For almost a minute they remained like this, breathing at the same pace. Elena noticed how Álvaro’s pulse was synchronized with his.

"I'm going to tell you a story," she said. "It's too short.

• I'm listening.

"A woman decides that she wants her partner to feel every texture before she feels it. She prepares a roof, chooses fabrics, plans every step. When the time comes, she discovers that the waiting has been more intense than anything else. Do you want me to continue?"

• Yeah.

—The woman realizes that she can keep control without touching. That desire grows in the space between bodies. That the word “moon” is a door that is always open. Do you want it to stop or follow?

• Go on.

Elena got up slowly. She took her shirt off the floor and put it on Álvaro, without fastening it. The linen fabric rubbed his sensitive skin. Then she untied her wrists and ankles. Each knot was gently untied, and every time she released a limb, Elena massaged the place for ten seconds, restoring circulation. When she finished, she helped Álvaro to stand up and offered him the glass of water from the table. He drank in small sips.

"Now I'm going to give you the aftercare you asked for," she said. "We sat on the cushions of the pergola, covered you with a light blanket and talked about what happened.

They moved to the rest area that Elena had prepared under one of the pergolas. A cream-colored cotton blanket waited on the cushions. Alvaro sat down first; Elena stood behind him, surrounding him with her arms. The blanket covered both bodies. For several minutes they did not speak. They only heard the distant traffic and the sound of a source that someone had lit in the courtyard next door.

"Tell me three things you've felt," Elena asked.

"The silk against the skin. The plume in the thighs. The heat of your body when you have sat on me.

• Anything you want to change for next time?

"Maybe tie your wrists in front instead of behind. I'd like to see your face while you're talking to me.

• Aimed.

Elena kissed Álvaro’s neck. The kiss was long, but not sexual; it was a way to close the circle. Then she got up and picked up the tray. She served two glasses of red wine and gave them to her. They toasted without colliding the cups, just tilting them one to the other.

"Thank you for trusting me," she said.

"Thank you for planning everything," he replied.

They stayed on the roof until the street lights went out by sectors. The temperature dropped by a degree. Elena put each object back in place: the wand on the tray, the silk tie in a cloth bag, the satin gloves in her box. The cleaning ritual was also part of the aftercare. When everything was collected, they went down the stairs together. On the next floor rest, Álvaro stopped and looked at Elena.

"Do you want me to come up tomorrow to help you clean up?" he asked.

• I'd rather you go up to dinner tomorrow and talk about the next scene.

• Deal.

They kissed each other in the mouth for the first time that night. The kiss was brief, almost chaste. Then each took his way: she towards the elevator, he towards the stairs. The silk tie was stored in Elena’s purse, ready to be worn again when both decided that the time had come.

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