“We need some background music.”
“Do I get to chose?”
“Yes.”
I thought about it... Sensual, light music, something unreal would certainly be suitable.
“Jeux and the Prelude to Après-midi d’un faune by Debussy.”
“Fine.”
I settled myself down into an armchair, the only one in my whole apartment. I felt like I was at the theater, waiting for the next act.
The music surprised me, shook me out of my thoughts. I let myself be carried along by Debussy’s graceful arabesques. I was tempted to shut my eyes, but the show was also visual.
He turned towards me: “Make yourself as absent as possible; I don’t want to hear or see you, I just want to know that you’re somehow present.”
Following this last piece of advice, I kept quiet though I remained anxious. He took off his jacket, his pullover, his movements followed on smoothly from each other, gracious, airy, in an unexpected choreography.
Finally, I saw his torso, his shirt slipping over white smooth skin that reflected the spot-light shining down on him.
His gestures became more definite, his hands slid over his body, sometimes gently brushing it; he turned around on the spot very slowly, offering this body to my attentive being. His skin played with the light in a game of shadows and moving reflections, strange, surreal, like accomplices to each other.