I jogged my way to exhaustion on Saturday morning. My muscles were too contracted and my joints hurt, but at least that prevented me from thinking too much. Since Luke and I had met with Professor Abbey on Thursday, I was even more nervous about the congress. At least, he had finally decided Luke should be the one to come along. But one of the reasons he had made that decision was what perturbed me most.

Bigwigs from Fleming&Florey were going to be in the conference. That pressurized me into deciding quickly if I was going to count on them or not. I was longing for Monday to come fast; I couldn't wait for Luke to get some insider information. It would be preferable to have allies in the jungle-peek of my speech. I had read about one of the bosses of the enterprise that would be in New York with us: Kate Rosewood. She seemed indomitable, a Harvard graduate in her late thirties. Her being a woman made me believe it would be easier to connect with her, but I knew I was fooling myself, in a no-win attempt to be tranquil, triggered by my presumably long-asleep survival instinct.

I had made Professor Abbey believe I was close to finding a way to prevent leukemia. I had written a false speech for him to read, which contained enough information for him to be satisfied, but too little to reveal the truth. It scared me to think about how he would react when he found out I knew much more than that.

I was out of breath, but I pushed myself to continue running. I didn't want my butt to be by my ankles by the time I was thirty. I asked myself if it would. It definitely wouldn't if we lived in Pluto, like Luke and I had imagined in London. But, in our planet, having into account the force gravity put on us... maybe not by the time we were thirty, but our butts would probably be downer than they were in the present after a couple of millenniums. It appeared before me I had been wrong when I had thought I shouldn't feel anticipated nostalgia about my young body anymore. I definitely should.

After taking a shower, I called Luke to tell him about how my discovery would make reaffirming lotion sellers millionaires.

"Hey, Tess." he said, and I heard a woman's voice asking who it was.

"Oh, are you busy?"

"No, it's just Camille, talking about lunch."

"Oh, I thought you were coming to Brighton this weekend."

"I was, but then Camille invited me over to her country house in Bibury, and... here I am.

"So, you're in Bibury."

It was more an affirmation than a question.

"Yes, we're at her house."

I was very confused. He had gone to Bibury, to Camille's house, without telling me anything about it? He must have felt my astonishment, because he started to explain everything.

"Yesterday, we were talking about how I haven't seen her family for ages, and since you had decided to stay in all weekend with your family..."

Why did he have to see her family at all?

"So you knew each other before college?"

"Actually, we've known each other almost forever, because we were practically neighbors in North London as kids. We went to the same school, and then to the same university..."

I still didn't get why he hadn't told me.

"Tell her to come and join us." Camille's annoying voice said in the background.

I didn't like that she was listening to him explain their story to me, as if their story was the important one.

"Why don't you join us for lunch?" Luke asked.

Even if Bibury was an almost three-hour drive away from Brighton, I heard myself agree and promise I would bring Africa along before I had time to think any better. I needed to know exactly what was going on. Was he staying for the weekend?

"Why am I coming here?" Africa asked as we approached Camille's house.

We were driving through increasingly narrow roads. Small stony houses appeared on our right, and there was a small river on our left. Most of the houses had ivy on the façade, and, even if it was almost winter, there were pink and blue hydrangeas on most windows, which contrasted with the yellow and brown leaves on the floor. Everything was surrounded by naked Oak trees. The village looked as if it had been taken out of a fairytale. Enchanted. A beautiful place hiding a dark secret. I just hoped the secret was not related to Camille and Luke, together.

"That's exactly what I am asking myself. Should I be jealous?"

"No, Tess, God. Of course not. They're friends."

"That's what I thought in the first place. But then I realized he wouldn't have told me anything about having known her forever or having lunch with her today if I hadn't been as foolish as to call him."

"Slow down, Tess. He didn't mention it because he doesn't think it's important. He loves you too cloyingly, if you want my opinion." she said, and I laughed. "So please don't be worried for him caring about someone else."

"I am not. I just wonder if I should be. When he asked me if I was jealous of her the other night, he didn't say I shouldn't be."

"He already implied it by asking you that question."

"I guess." I answered, and I shrugged.

"It's here. Arlington Row."

Camille and Luke were waiting for us at the garden with drinks in their hands. They greeted enthusiastically as Africa parked the car. Camille's garden was full of weird, exotic plants that immediately fascinated Africa and made them start a long conversation that lasted almost through the whole meal. The dining room had a low ceiling full of wooden beams. There was a fireplace next to the round table we were sitting at. As I took in the fanciful decoration of the place, Luke's eyes on me reassured me I shouldn't be jealous of Camille.

She was very pretty, though. Her long black hair looked even curlier than it had back it London, and her skin was a beautiful, tan, olive-tone. She reminded me of Esmeralda from the Hunchback of Notre Dame. She opened her eyes widely when Africa told her she was a painter.

"You're kidding me. I've always wanted to know an artist! And what do you paint?"

"Anything. Mostly abstracts, though. It's the best way to let go on the canvas. To put on it whatever's on my soul."

Anyone who heard that from a painter he had just met would probably think she had given that answer because that was the kind of thing a bohemian, misunderstood artist would say. Nevertheless, I didn't think Luke and Camille had gotten that impression from Africa. The transparence of her personality contrasted with her opaque beauty. It fascinated me how she could transmit so much and hide herself at the same time.

"Can I make an order?" Camille asked, ablaze.

Africa laughed.

"Could you paint me? I assume you can do portraits too."

"You don't even know if you like my style."

"Oh, believe me." I interrupted. "You do. She's a genius."

"I have a canvas my mother once bought me upstairs. Could you do it after lunch?" Camille pleaded.

Africa couldn't refuse, but I could see she was flattered to have caused such an impression. She would never admit that to me, though. She loved herself too much as to accept she cared about whether others loved her or not.

Camille dragged her upstairs when we finished lunch, giggling excitedly in her high-pitched voice. When Luke and I realized they wouldn't be around for a couple of hours, we decided to go for a walk. I stopped at the garden, and acknowledged two magnolia trees that I wished I could see in a couple of months, when they would start shedding whitish pink petals all over the garden. I smiled when I thought I would get to see many springs begin. And end.

"What are you thinking about?" Luke asked.

"I am praying so that I won't die in an accident and will be able to see many springs in this garden."

I expected he would laugh, but my answer sent him into a reflexive state.

"I think I still believe." he muttered, just when we were about open the fence door.

"In praying? In God?"

"I don't exactly know."

A very cold wind was blowing in slow motion, so it caught me by surprise when it disheveled me completely. Maybe I had already lost track of time. Track of acceleration. Maybe the wind had realized I would in the end - if there was an end - get too used to how it blew, and wanted to get me off guard as a way to show me I could not control everything.

Luke was also suspended in time. Looking for words or clear-cut images in his head. Or anything understandable at all. The wind stopped and we stood there in the garden, floating diagonally or upside down in space. Maybe gravity had already flown away to a saner planet.

"Before you and your discovery came, I thought the reason we believed in something transcendental was that we couldn't admit our life was nothing. We didn't want to picture ourselves as dust in just a century at the most. If we just lived, and then became waste, why live at all? We wanted to find a reason for that, and we couldn't come up with anything, so we settled with God."

"I've never settled for anything, to be honest. I've just kept looking. And that's what I am still doing."

"For me, it's different now. Now I know we are able to live forever. We just didn't know how to do it before. That should stop our search for the transcendental. We are transcendental now. Our life should have a meaning of its own."

He didn't say anything more and looked at me but past me, and then his eyes fixed on the magnolia tree. The afternoon light was whitish and I couldn't hear any sound but remote laughs. It felt as if we were alone in Bibury. The distant cry of a bird brought Luke back to the almost snowed-like garden, and he continued talking as if he had never paused.

"But, even so, I don't know why, my mind keeps searching. I still think there must be something else. There must be some kind of destiny if I have met you." he said, taking my hands. Then, he joked: "I must have been a very good person in my previous life."

I kissed him, and the cold melted away.

"I know what you mean; something similar has been happening to me forever. Seeing there's something insatiable inside me that keeps looking for God, as if willing to find him but scared to do so at the same time, makes me think I already believe, even though I have never admitted that to myself. But then, again, I think I don't, and the cycle goes on. For me that hasn't changed since I discovered... this. Africa says painting helps one have clearer ideas on all this stuff."

Luke laughed.

"Painting is Africa's solution for everything!"

Then, he looked directly into my eyes, and bit his bottom lip as his eyes descended in my face and fixed on my mouth.

"You know what? Let's paint. I want to put myself in Africa's feet for today. We don't have any more canvases but we have... cereal boxes we can substitute them with."

I laughed and he led me upstairs to the room he would sleep at that night. The fact that he was sleeping at Camille's house didn't make me overjoyed, but, at the same time, looking into his perfect eyes, I knew he wouldn't betray me. Why would he? What we had was miraculous, unbeatable.

I made myself comfortable in the bedroom while he looked for improvised artistic tools. It was small and cozy. A double bed with a white headboard, a flowery duvet and many cushions occupied most of the space.

Then I had an idea. If he wanted to feel exactly how Africa was feeling at that moment, the most appropriate thing was for him to do exactly the same thing she was doing that exact instant.

I hurried to take my clothes off before he came into the room, so that he would find me naked, on the bed, and would have to wait till he painted me before eating me up. I wished I had a semi-transparent, suggestive robe to partially cover me up, but, as I didn't, I just lay on his bed, facedown, resting my body on my elbows so that he could perfectly see the curvature of my behind. I saw myself on a mirror on the wall, and, on the contrary to many other times, I loved the white, porcelain, untouched aspect of my skin. I felt sexy.

He entered the room with a pile of cereal boxes, watercolours and colour pencils in his hands, and he dropped them all to the floor when he saw me like that. I forgot about my determination not to let him touch me until he finished painting me as soon as he jumped on top of me wildly, without taking his clothes of, and kissed my back and put his hands on my hips, to enclose his pelvis on my butt.

"God, Tess... what I could do to that butt..."

I moaned, aroused. He unzipped his jeans and rubbed himself over my butt, as he passed his hands forward to cup my breasts.

"Oh, Tessa, you're so hot..."

"Luke..." I said, and when I managed to control my breathing, I added: "Paint me before doing me."

He stopped rubbing against me and said:

"Are you serious?"

"Yes." I said, turning around so that I was facing him, lying beneath him.

He held his body on his extended arms and looked down and me, going through my whole body over and over again. He stopped at my eyes to say:

"That's torture, Tess... I'll paint you after." he said, and he kissed me deeply, as he let himself fall on top of me, slowly.

He was still wearing his t-shirt and his unzipped trousers. He opened my legs wide and prepared to make his way into me, ferocious, but I insisted:

"Please, Luke. It'll be more fun." I said, flirtatiously.

"Do you really think you'll be able to wait?"

"I'll try. It'll make it more intense. Besides, I want to see you long for me and suffer." I said, and I giggled.

"I was going to tell you I won't be suffering, but I think this...is quite difficult to hide."

"I want to see it become even more huge." I said, my heart throbbing, as I wrapped it with my hand. "It's so hard..."

He groaned savagely, toured my lips with his tongue, and caressed my abdomen in a contained stroke. We finally managed to separate from each other and he made his way to the study table. I put myself in the position I was lying in when he had come into the room. He pursued my lascivious body with his shiny as ever eyes as he grabbed the colour pencils.

He sighed, resigned, as he shook his head at me and bit his lip.

"I doubt I'll be able to capture what I'm seeing. Can I at least touch myself?"

"No. Just observe me. And paint."

It was very sexy to play with him like that.

"It's a shame you can't capture movement with colour pencils..." I said, as I transferred my weight to my knees and curved my butt up, still supporting myself on my elbows.

In that position, I started to move my hips in circles, enjoying the way in which he was looking at me. He was holding onto the chair strongly. The room was steamy.

"How about I change my canvas?" he said, as he slowly moved his hands to the table and grabbed the watercolours.

He made his way to the bed and kneeled behind me. He moved my hips closer to his pelvis and slightly separated my thighs by passing a small paintbrush between them. The thin bristles and the cold paint felt divine against my skin. I moaned and lifted my back. He took his t-shirt off and leaned his head to kiss me. I stack my back to his bare chest. He passed the brush along my groins, getting very close to my ardent midline but never reaching it. I was sizzling and trembling. And full of water paint. And very wet.

He moved the brush up my body, filling me with paint and desire, and circled it over my nipples. I sighed and curved my back, thus pressing my butt against his erected member. He bit my neck and let the brush fall on the bed. I lay, facedown, and he lied on top of me, after hurriedly getting rid of his remaining impeding clothes.

As he started to move me, I realized I was staining his duvet with the paint on my body.

"Luke, I'm making a mess here..." I managed to say.

"Don't worry, I'll make much more of a mess in a few seconds... Gosh... I'm going to explode on you, Tess..."

I groaned. He turned me around wildly and covered my whole body with kisses and saliva within a few seconds. He followed his trail of kisses with his hands, squeezing my breasts and my waist and my widely open legs. I was longing to feel his hands on my most boiling spot. I took his right one and put it there, as I looked him in the eyes. He pressed his fingers against it and made me vibrate. I leaned my head back, ecstatic.

"Luke...! God!"

He inserted two fingers into me and moved them fast. I moaned high and I came as I screamed his name. Then, as I orgasmed, I shouted something I never would have expected to come out of my mouth:

"Please fuck me, Luke. Fuck me hard."

That plead made him roar, and he pressed himself against the entrance into me. Anticipation almost made me come again.

"Do you see what you do to me?"

"I love turning you-."

He didn't even let me finish the sentence. He penetrated me with a strong thrust, and licked my breasts as he moved out of me slowly. He pushed his way into me again slowly, filling me completely, and he paused. He looked down at me, hyperventilating, and, swiftly, he started to move fast, very fast, in strong pokes, sliding inside me and grabbing my thighs to press me against him even more.

I looked at his face as he moved. His overjoyed gaze and fervent mouth shook me up, and a wave of overwhelming pleasure extended through my body as he sped up and discharged inside me, roaring, rampant.

He slowly let his weight on me and kissed me sweetly, removing sweaty locks from my forehead. I smiled like a fool and caressed his back. We moved so that we were both lying on one of our sides, facing each other. We looked at each other for a while, intermittently kissing and sighing. I hugged him and we fell asleep like that, in the afternoon sun, right in the middle of paradise.

I didn't know where I was when I woke. But Luke's scent helped me situate in heaven. I opened my eyes and found him looking at me.

"You know what? You're very beautiful when you're asleep."

"You're not bad either." I said, in a sleepy voice. "What time is it?"

"I don't care." he answered, shrugging. " I am having no trouble in getting used to living without looking at my clock."

"Yes, sleeping with you in the afternoon is not a difficult habit to take up."

He smiled, and whispered into my ear:

"I love you, Tess."

"I love you too." I said.

That was a moment when it felt right and safe to be naïve. I felt open, naked psychologically as well as physically. The only thing I needed eternity for right then was to keep lying there with Luke. Our faces talked about how they were certain they wouldn't be as blissful as then anywhere, anytime else. I stood still to hold on to that instant and make it last.

What did you think of this chapter? Did you enjoy Luke and Tessa's sizzling moment? Let me know in the comments! I am entering the Wattys2016, so, if you enjoyed it, please don't forget to vote :) On the following chapter, Tessa and Luke go to New York...

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