Chapter 4: Second wish
The tavern was as eclectic as the city of Venice itself. A cacophony of hushed conversations, clinking glasses, and ambient accordion music painted a scene of cheer and conviviality. The sun had not yet set and faint golden rays sneaked in through small glass windows, casting languid beams across the wooden floorboards. Worn-out as they were, the boards bore the myriad stains and stiletto grooves from countless merrymakers before.
Christian couldn't help but glance at the corner occupied by that mysterious fortune teller. Her name, it turned out, was Samira. Christian was determined to tell her about what happened. Or rather, didn’t happen. Nothing of significance happened at 1:22PM like she predicted. It was all nonsense. Harmless enough, he thought, but nothing more than a parlor trick. Yet there was something about Samira that left a lingering doubt. To appease his curiosity, Christian would visit her tent again. He couldn't quite explain it, other than the desire to reemerge enlightened and gratified; the longing to hold tangible answers in his hands.
To distract himself, Christian ordered an Amarone from the tavern's extensive wine list.
He tasted the bold, assertive notes as he surveyed the room with its old-world charm and murky shadows. The crimson beverage offered a comforting warmth that streamed down his throat while igniting a spark of inspiration. This would undoubtedly make for an excellent painting.
A melody trickled from the worn accordion as gentle hands danced along its keys, weaving stories without uttering a word.
Christian's eyes darted between the fortune teller and the musician, noticing a subtle harmony intertwining the two figures. Samira raised her gaze from the cards, meeting Christian's inquisitive stare. The corners of her lips curled into a knowing smile. As if waiting for this very moment, she signaled him over with a subtle flick of her hand.
The aroma of musky incense greeted him as he slid into the velvet-curtained tent, giving him a much-needed respite from the tavern's boisterous clamor.
The intimacy of the chamber was a stark contrast to the vastness of the bar, creating an exclusive enclave for a secret rendezvous - just the prospective lovers and the secrets they held close.
Samira's intense gaze scrutinized Christian from head to toe. He must have been unmasked, so he thought. He braced himself, ready to hear that she saw through yesterday’s façade and discerned him as a hollowed-out skeptic.
“You have questions for me, Christian,” she began, a familiar trace of amused confidence in her voice.
Christian took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts before finally speaking up. “Yesterday, you mentioned I would meet Michiel. The farmer, correct?”
Samira inclined her head. “Indeed. You were meant to encounter each other again and at 1:22PM he would tell you something of significance. But I never specified the details.”
Determined not to let her off the hook so easily, Christian responded, “So it was just a convenient twist of fate?”
“You could say that.” She leaned back in her chair, the enigmatic smile lingering on her lips.
“There are two types of fate, Christian – the kind that is written in the stars, and the kind that is shaped by our choices.”
Her words sank into his consciousness, their depth tantalizing a dormant part of his curiosity. Perhaps if he hadn’t been so jaded by hollow promises, he would’ve embraced the mystery that shrouded her statements. The tantalizing dance between credulousness and doubt continued to ensnare Christian, pulling him deeper into Samira’s grasp.
”But I must admit,” she conceded, “your skepticism is remarkable.
It's as if you're daring the universe to prove you wrong.”
Christian's eyes narrowed, intrigued. “And if I am?”
Samira shrugged enigmatically. “Let's just say that the universe has a way of surprising even the most stalwart of unbelievers.”
Her cryptic statement hung in the air, sparking a mixture of irritation and fascination within Christian. Was she playing with him? Or was there truly something more profound at play here?
“So..” The older woman continued as her fingers stroked through her long black hair. “Let’s go back to that moment. At 1:22PM you checked your watch and then what happened?”. Christian hesitated for a moment, recounting the precise sequence of events that unfolded during the fleeting span of 1:22PM.
“Well, I was with Michiel, as you mentioned, we just talked a bit and that was that. Nothing happened”. Christian said these words with finality, challenging Samira to contradict him. But she merely leaned back in her chair with that amused smile still curling the corners of her mouth. It only added to Christian's frustration.
He found himself both drawn to and repelled by this enigmatic woman. There was something undeniably captivating about her—a charisma that drew him in like a moth to flame. Yet, her mysteriousness grated on his nerves.
“Christian you need to try harder. Do you remember his exact words”.
Still skeptical Christian thought back on their conversation. “Well I said something about him being a ladies men. And he told me some stuff about his past. That he would fuck anyone or anything when he moved here”. Christian recalled, slightly abashed at the crass remark, but Samira held up her hand to stop him.
“Ah, I believe it’s the exact phrasing that matters. Did he use present tense?” she queried, eyes sparkling with curiosity.
“No, actually. He used past tense.” Christian replied, feeling slightly triumphant. Her smile faded slightly, replaced by a thoughtful expression - a reaction that wasn’t lost on Christian.
“I think I know now. Rebecca told you Michiel was a ladies man, didn’t she?”
“How would you know that? Did she tell you that?”
“Honey I know everything. I just KNOW”. She emphasised. “What you really wanted to know when you came to me yesterday was whether Michiel was completely straight or not. And he told you he’d fuck anything, didn’t he? Well, there’s your answer”. Samira’s words lingered in the air, sending a shiver down Christian's spine.
He felt an irresistible desire to either prove or disprove Samira’s claim. The idea that words exchanged at random were influenced by their earlier encounter unnerved him. He had wished for clarity, certainly, but this was too close for comfort.
“So you may say that in a possible future, and I’m not trying to get your hopes up here, you may very well still have a small chance at winning over his heart”. Samira's words hung in the air like a tantalizing dessert, just within reach, yet frustratingly elusive.
Christian tried to digest the implications, both thrilled and horrified at the idea that he might have a chance with Michiel. But was it worth pursuing, especially given the enigmatic nature of Samira's claims?
"You seem troubled, Christian," Samira observed, her voice a soothing balm against his swirling thoughts. He shook his head, not wanting to admit that she'd struck a nerve.
"It's nothing," he lied, summoning a weak smile. But Samira wasn't so easily fooled.
“I told you to try to seduce him the natural way before we turn to dark magic, well how did it go?”. Christian hesitated, uncertain how much he wanted to reveal to Samira in that moment. After all, she had already successfully exposed his vulnerabilities and desires for Michiel. He wondered if admitting his attempts would leave him even more exposed and susceptible to the whims of fate or some supposed universal power.
Reluctantly, Christian met Samira’s eyes. “He invited me for a drink and we talked for a bit. It was going really well, I tried to kiss him and then.. nothing.”
Samira’s eyes widened in mock astonishment.
“Nothing? Oh, the suspense is killing me. Do tell me more, Christian.” The playful glint in her eyes compelled Christian to continue his story.
“Well, he laughed and pulled away, said something about not mixing business with pleasure, or some such platitude. He took another sip of his drink and then left. Just like that.” Christian frowned, recalling the sting of rejection. “It was as if he couldn’t wait to get away from me.”
A knowing smile danced upon Samira’s lips.
“I see. Well, sometimes it takes patience and persistence to win someone over.” She paused for a moment, reflecting on Christian’s predicament. “But your attempts at winning him over were genuine, yes?”
“Of course,” Christian replied emphatically. He thought of the tenderness that filled his chest when he saw Michiel’s smile and the subtle way he leaned in whenever they laughed over their shared anecdotes. Of course his attempts were genuine. But sometimes people just don’t reciprocate, no matter how much you want them to.
“I could feel some tension between us but.. he just has this wall up. And I feel like I can’t break through it.” Christian sighed, running his fingers through his short brown hair. The weight of unrequited affection bore down upon him, stealing away his normally jovial demeanor. His expressive eyes concealed their depth behind a veneer of vulnerability-something not uncommon for individuals sharing their deepest longings with the fortune teller.
Samira attentively observed Christian’s countenance, like an artist immersed in the study of her subject before making the first stroke on canvas.
She grabbed his hand and squeezed it tightly. She pointed her head up to the sky and closed her eyes. She hummed some mysterious words. “Tomorrow you will have your answer. He will make your future abundantly clear”. Samira's voice echoed in Christian's ears, its solemnity ringing with the kind of conviction that made it impossible to ignore.
Christian withdrew his hand from hers, breaking the spell hertouch had cast over him. The words now resonated inside his head, a mysterious riddle waiting to be unraveled. How could tomorrow bring a closure he yearned for so desperately? It hardly seemed plausible. But then again, nothing in this tropical paradise followed any predictable pattern.
The island of Bali was a place where ancient rituals and modernity married in an intoxicating dance that lured even the most jaded traveler. And Christian, though he tried to deny it, was wholeheartedly captivated by this curious land and one of its natives in particular.
“That’ll be $97 dollars please” Samira held out her hand , bringing him back to reality.
He fished through his wallet and reluctantly handed over the money, still lost in his thoughts. $97 for mere words that may or may not come to pass. He wasn’t quite sure if he was buying into elaborate superstition or deluding himself. It didn’t help that Samira was somewhat of a local celebrity—her predictions taken as gospel by the diverse inhabitants of her exotic home. Perhaps they needed something magical to believe in, a deity they could touch and hear.
I was exhausted. I thanked Samira, got up and walked up the stairs to my humble hotelroom. The room was a simple paradox, blending minimalist elegance with Balinese charm. An authentic painting hung on one side of the wall, drawing attention to the natural beauty of the coastline and lush greenery at sunset - it felt like a window into another world. I shifted my gaze towards the four-poster king-sized bed; its mosquito netting danced softly as a gentle breeze blew through the open balcony doors. It was impossible not to appreciate the allure of the island’s sensuality, which had already begun heating up my imagination.
I stripped my clothes off and got in bed with my sketchbook. I looked back on today. I thought about the bright red plants. About how Michiels hands slowly milked them so sensually. I imagined my cock being the plant. His fingers following my veins. I imagined how his tongue teased the very tip of my cock. I leaned back with closed eyes as the composition formed in my mind. I felt my erection brushing up against the bedsheet. As I opened my eyes I couldn’t help but notice the tent that formed under the sheets, my cock, it seemed a bit bigger than usual. It was pulsing with desire. I removed the sheet to take a better look. My cock turned slightly red as it filled with my blood. I felt myself nearing an orgasm. A nearly handsfree orgasm? I thought. I’ve never experienced anything like this before. I smiled to myself smugly and thought: that’s what you do to me Michiel. Only you can do this to me.
Instead of giving in and finishing. I quickly grabbed my sketchbook and started violently sketching the scene. Michiels mouth around my throbbing cock his hands gently caressing my shaft. With every stroke of my pencil, I felt my body yearning to push through the boundaries of the pages. I added details - the sharpness of his stubble against my sensitive skin, the warmth emanating from his breath, and the shyness that danced in his eyes as he took me deeper into his mouth.
Christian couldn't help but shiver as he lost himself in the act. The sensation of drawing upon such an intimate moment was overwhelming, evoking a deep desire that consumed him like wildfire.
He could envision every line, every detail of Michiel’s exquisite form as he hungrily savored his manhood. This was no simple infatuation—it was carnal devotion, unbridled and raw.
The thrill coursed through his veins as the pencil danced along the paper, each stroke charged with a mixture of lustful reverie and artistic fervor that was uniquely his.
It was as if he were painting with an invisible brush, each touch laden with emotional longing and unspoken affection. The page became a window to his soul – Christian exposed at his rawest, not merely in a physical sense but as a deeply passionate creative in the throes of desire.
Christian’s fixation with the alluring botanist, Michiel, had evolved from mere curiosity to something far more unquenchable. This unexpected fascination pulsed at his very core – relentless and exhilarating.
He dropped his pencil. Satisfied with his work. Then threw his legs up in the air causing his sketchbook to fall onto the floor beneath. His cock still pulsating, waiting to be released. He rolled up into a ball, his skinny frame allowed for it. Then carefully inserted two fingers up his asshole. He rumaged around a bit to find the prostate. Then he contorted his body even more. Good thing Christian was so agile, it allowed him to suck his own cock. He relished the experience, knowing that none of his lovers could provide this unique sensation. In a way, it was like a love affair with himself - indulgent and satisfying. The more he pleasured himself in this unfamiliar way, the closer he came to understanding what had shifted within him since arriving in Bali.
Christian's senses heightened. His surroundings blended seamlessly with the carnal pleasure forming atop his sketchbook. He heard distant drums from a Balinese ceremony vibrating rhythmically and drawing him closer to the island's mystical pulse.
The moonlight cast a silvery glow through the room, making everything dreamlike. A warm breeze gently touched his sweat-drenched skin as he moved in sync with the steady beat of a primal rhythm.