2: The Door

Mario did not answer. Marta smiled, curious.
"Well?"
Mario blinked.
"Sorry — I was completely lost in you."
Marta found it amusing. Under different circumstances she might have reacted differently.
"I can see that." Marta knew that kind of flirtation all too well, and although her instincts were warning her of the danger, the magnetism was undeniable.
"Did you just smile?" Mario's expression was a genuinely disarming mix of surprise and delight that left Marta defenceless for a moment. "You smiled!"
"My laugh is hard to come by because it's contagious." Marta warned him, slightly flirtatious. "If I had laughed, believe me — you would have known."
Mario felt tempted, and the words left his mouth before he could think.
"Right now, there's nothing I'd rather do than hear your laugh."
A sincere smile as he said it, an exaggerated look of surprise, her hand covering her mouth. All in less than a second.
Marta stepped closer — instinctively raised her hand and brushed his cheek with the back of her fingers, gently.
Mario held his breath and looked into her eyes. What burned inside him was not charm — it was something more physical, more dangerous. He swallowed as his gaze dropped to her lips.
"Maybe one day the echo will reach you." Marta teased, without much intent.
Mario instinctively raised his hand to lace his fingers through Marta's and drew closer, very slowly, afraid of breaking whatever was happening between them.
An engine revved from the car park where Marta's car was waiting.
A couple of blinks, and Marta excused herself and headed towards her car.
Mario, still holding his breath, looked down at his hand with a faint longing for the feel of her skin.
He wanted to hold her in his arms. He wanted to hear her breathe his name. He wanted to taste every inch of her skin. Why did he feel this primitive, visceral pull towards a woman he had only just met?
He looked at his Mercedes, watched her walk away, and did not rationalise his thoughts. He waited until she disappeared down the stairs into the car park, then got into his car and drove in after her.
"This is absolute madness — but I can't get her out of my head," he told himself as he passed through the barrier.
Marta swiped her ticket to retrieve her car, but Mario's face refused to leave her mind. The toned body she had glimpsed beneath his black fleece jacket and that burgundy hoodie could only be a hallucination, fed by the absence of any real life in her own life.
But then why did her whole body burn at the mere memory of his voice?
She pressed her hand to her stomach just below the diaphragm, closed her eyes and breathed in deeply to steady herself.
"You will never see him again, Marta," she told herself. "Forget it."
She reached her car and got in, ready to leave — but a horn caught her attention.
Mario was waving from his car, a radiant smile on his face at having found her, impossible to hide.
"Can I follow you home?" Mario called out, more nervous than surprised.
Inside, Marta's mind was saying: No. Tell him no. Go back to your safe, stable routine — the one you've worked so hard to maintain. Don't do something you'll regret for the rest of your... — and before she could finish the thought, she leaned out of the lowered window.
"Follow me," she answered, with a blend of recklessness and desire.
The two cars moved through Madrid, weaving through streets like trails across the sky along roads with barely a traffic light between them.
The grey Mercedes always in front, setting the route — until they reached the eighties-era neighbourhood on the outskirts of Vallecas, where they began to slow down.
For the first time in her life, Marta was genuinely glad her children no longer lived with her. She let Mario leave his car in the second parking space assigned to the spacious apartment.
They rode the lift up to the sixth floor where Marta lived.
A public space like the communal areas — the lift especially — did nothing to temper the desire guiding them.
A mirror on the landing between the lift doors and her front door reflected back the image of two teenagers discovering the true meaning of desire and longing.
But he was not fifteen. Neither was she.
Once they crossed the threshold, the momentum allowed the first sounds of pleasure to escape.
Her bag was the first thing to hit the floor, and their coats followed. There was no time to waste, and the urgency could almost be heard between kisses and broken breaths.
By the time they reached the bedroom, they were fully aware of the heat of each other's skin.
Marta pushed Mario onto the bed, barely giving him room to breathe.
"Marta..." Mario pleaded as she pulled back to catch her breath.
She did not answer in that moment, but her mind was flooded with his name and she was incapable of thinking of anything else.
He felt an unconditional urge to say something that seemed out of place, and held back the two words that would have sounded like a scratched record in the middle of everything. Instead, he chose something more fitting.
"...I..." he breathed, "...I've wanted you since the moment I saw you."
"Quiet." She ordered.
The intensity took its time fading, as though they had always fitted together. And the night wrapped around them like a blanket — warm and soft as velvet.
Mario held Marta close beneath it, and buried his nose in her chestnut curls, breathing her in.
"Pineapple — I love the combination." He inhaled once more. "It's incredibly sexy, the way your scent blends the tropics with the forest."
Marta observed the scene as though she were someone else entirely, and held her breath. She felt a deep wave of guilt for having let herself go.
A faint scent of chocolate unsettled her, and she used it as a way out.
"Do you smell of chocolate?" She deflected the thought and lied. "You should go. My children come early and I wouldn't know what to tell them if they asked."
Mario raised his head and looked her in the eyes.
"This wasn't just a slip." His slow, deep breathing betrayed real pain — a fear of her rejection. "I felt something." His gaze drifted to her lips, and he almost told her he loved her.
"But it won't happen again."
Marta got out of bed and stood up, ready to get dressed.