The doorbell rings and penetrates my ears. Fuck. I'm dead asleep. I drag my body to the door. I see a Dorian storming in, and that's enough to awaken all my senses.

"Aren't you ready yet?" he asks irritably.

I have no idea what he's saying.

"Hello from me, Dorian," I mutter in a hoarse voice.

"I told you to be ready at 16:00 a.m.," he tells me.

"When did you tell me?" I ask in a dumb tone.

"If you'd looked at your phone you'd know when," he tells me angrily.

He leaves his keys and cell phone on the coffee table. He approaches the little bar and puts a drink to himself.

As my eyesight recovers from sleep, I watch him from top to bottom. He's dressed differently. He's wearing a white clingy T-shirt and faded jeans. Matching white sneakers adorn him nicely. This is another Dorian. He's different from the one in a suit.

"Are you gonna sit staring at me for a long time?" he asks sharply.

He's not so different from the Dorian I know, I comment silently and let a sneer come out of me.

"Where are we going?" I ask.

"Get dressed simply, as I do. Just get some panties or something, 'cause I'm sure you're gonna need it," he tells me, and I do not hesitate to laugh at him.

                                                                             ***

Dorian has been driving for quite some time now, I have no idea where he's going. All I see from the car window is the river Platte from afar.

When he arrives at the great junction which divides the city of Denver, he turns and enters the road for Englewood. The big sign up there says the place.

He's completely out of Denver. All right, I think silently. I'll take this as some kind of excursion or something. I'm speculating on my own because if I go through the process of asking him again, he's not going to tell me, and it's very likely to get on his nerves.

While he doesn't give a damn how you feel.

Oh shut up, little voice in my head. You're not gonna ruin this for me no matter how much you scream.

Dorian enters a relatively deserted place surrounded by a lot of greenery and few houses with enough distance between them.

I've heard about this place. In Englewood, you can see old mansions, mostly renovated villas that the owners keep more for sentimental reasons.

Dorian stops outside a mansion, built with all of the stone. It has a brown roof, and the garden in front of it is almost uphill to the front door.

We get out of the car and approach the entrance. Dorian takes a small device out of his pocket and types some numbers. At the last button, the iron door moves and slowly disappears on the sides of the wall. We enter the house, and Dorian closes the sliding door in the same way as he opened it.

It looks like a fort rather than a house, I think in silence.

I leave my little suitcase on the edge of a sofa and stare around the room waiting.

You wait for his orders because without them you cannot even breathe alone, says the voice in my head.

Shut the fuck up! I'll do as I want. I'm with him, and I don't care what he wants. My heart demanded, and I will give that joy to myself no matter what.

Dorian approaches me imposingly and looks at me in silence. I see what he wants. I scan the space and spot a large bar in the back of the living room. I go over there and pour him a drink.

"Make it two," I hear him commanding.

I want a drink too. Yes, why not, I think in silence.

In seconds I feel Dorian behind me lifting my short sports dress. He sticks his face down my throat while I'm still preparing the drinks.

I feel so full psychologically from his touch that if it were possible, I would stick his hands permanently on my body so that I can constantly have the chills that he gives me.

It's Cliché, isn't it?

Yes, it is, but when you feel that way, words always fail to describe it.

Everything indicates that Dorian has come back to me. That means he feels something for me, doesn't it?

If he didn't care, he wouldn't pay any more attention to me. He would have been as indifferent as everybody else.

He loves me...

Or he's just too selfish to let you leave him first. He wants to drain you psychologically and when he's ready, he'll leave first without turning to look behind him.

This thought of my inner voice caught my gaze staring somewhere indefinably, and I felt a discomfort overwhelm my feelings.

His hands roll slowly upward and remove my dress. I'm still stuck on the last thought, and I frown. I let him do what he wants to me without resisting.

He picks up the glass with the drink and gives it to me. I feel his chest sticking to my back while I take the glass. He gets his own and gently clinks to mine.

My eyes make two or three movements in a vacuum while I swallow hard. I drink it in one gulp and join my brows irritably as I feel the hot liquid descending into my throat.

"Do you feel it?" I hear Dorian saying.

I don't want to talk, and I just shake my head affirmatively.

We leave the glasses on the bar, and Dorian turns me towards him. I gaze upon his face, his keen features. I feel like I see a man I have no idea who he is and what he thinks. This frightens me even though my sight is filled with his beautiful countenance.

Beautiful danger, the voice in my head tells me.

How can he not understand what is going on inside me right now? Has he understood that my breath depends on a word from him?

Either he will tear me down, or he will resurrect me.

He's gonna tear you down, and you know it. You just insist with a stupid stubbornness of hope that he can resurrect you.

Yeah, I know I do. But is it bad at least to try for this love?

Never insist on something when it doesn't insist on you.

Oh, how late it is now to hear that... I would like it to have an effect in the moment of pain.

Words of consolation hurt more and should not be so. It is in the dark moments when these words should be so strong as to eliminate any loss, the sigh, the pain.

You know that the time you'll be in pain, whatever I'm yelling at you from inside, you won't hear it. That's why I've been yelling at you before. Before you plunge your heart into chaos and submit to harsh reality.

I sigh aloud after this thought. Dorian watches over it. He smiles at me obliquely. He thinks it's from relaxation or pleasure.

No, it's not. But I won't reveal to him what I think. If anything, he's here with me. This means something, I try to convince myself and weaken the words of my inner voice.

Dorian takes off his shirt with a gesture. I could get him talking about who this house is or who lived here. I could start saying something to him, anything.

But I don't. What does it matter? What matters is what we feel for each other. Or at least what I feel, I catch up with my inner voice this time.

Dorian takes me by the hand and takes me to the bathroom. He quickly takes off his pants and his underwear and attacks me with kisses. Those familiar kisses of his make me almost writhe within me for fear of losing them.

How much do I need you, after all, Dorian?