The Confessions Of A Concubine. Roberta Mezzabarba

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       And I stretch out, sleepily,

       with your dream chasing me,

       indelible is the belonging

       that tears me apart.

      

      And I hold you close with memories to come relentlessly

       to live you ten, a hundred, a thousand times.

      

       Wherever your breath is.

       9.

       Discoveries

       Secrets never uttered

       words hidden

       behind

       candid attitudes

       unsavory thoughts.

       Long hours

       chasing each other

       elusive moments

       of superficial contact

       avid

       of unspeakable thoughts.

       Forbidden thoughts.

       Dry mouth.

      

      The scarlet notebook was meeting my pen more and more often.

      

       Go away

       go away from me

       go away from my heart

       heart beating with emotions

       unspeakable memories

       Go away

       Go away

       get far away from my hands

       that can no longer reach you

       touch you like warm water

       like fragrant breeze

       at dawn.

       Go away from me.

       Far away.

       So that my eyes

       can only glimpse you

       indistinct

       so that I can

       chase you,

       gain ground,

       and join you,

       nearby.

      And my meetings with Pietro became more and more frequent.

      And every time I was surprised I didn’t feel ashamed of what I was doing: I had gone from platonic to carnal without even realizing it, and as

      the meetings multiplied, little by little I also lost the fear that had almost killed me the first time.

      I searched for Pietro's gaze with mine, in the hope of discovering that small wink that presaged a new encounter.

      I had fallen in love. Irreparably. Without solution.

      I had also bought some lace underwear and each time I couldn't wait to show it to Pietro, although

      "showing" was a eufemism, because in that squallid basement where we had established the abode of our meetings it was almost dark and even cold, but I did not feel any of this when I was stretched out on the cartons that he had brought downstairs and laid on the ground, overwhelmed by the whirlwind of sensations that Pietro made me feel.

      Of course, it was important for me that he paid attention to me even outside of our tête-à-tête, but I was certain that instead it was vital for him to

      have carnal contact with me.

      He kept telling me that he had never felt what he felt for me, that I was fantastic, wonderful, beautiful, unique.

      And each time I came out of it drunk.

      And each time he wanted more.

      Always more.

      "I want to make love to you, I can't resist any longer! When I'm with my wife I think of you, I think I'll go crazy at this rate..."

      In his arms everything seemed possible, but thinking back to his requests when I found myself alone, I didn’t feel ready, I didn’t want this last barrier that had remained between us to fall, the last small embankment against a current which was now too violent.

      ***

      I felt a vague sense of guilt towards Filippo

      hovering between us, leading me to have sexual impulses that, much more than once I think, had left him surprised if not appalled. To me it seemed that by giving myself to him I could partly silence my feelings of guilt.

      One evening after some disinterested sex, done as if by obligation, he turned to me and said:

      "You can't have children, you can't make me feel real pleasure... luckily at least you’re able to cook and tidy up the house, otherwise ... "

      These were the things that made me realize more and more that I was not remotely willing to give up Pietro.

      With my face pressed into the pillow I dreamed of Pietro, and clenched my teeth so as not to cry.

      Filippo was never there: absent in moments of joy, and in moments of deep pain.

      Absent not for nonsense, of course, for work.

      " I serve the people!"

      His work as a security guard made him feel a

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