Little Pink Plus

A wave of nausea overcame Della as she stood brushing her teeth. She spit foam into the sink and rocked back on her heels breathing deeply. One hand fluttered down to her swelling stomach and she moved it in small circles.

“Easy, baby, easy” she cooed.

It had been nearly six months ago, in this same narrow bathroom, when she had stood over the home pregnancy test anxiously waiting for a little pink plus to set the course of her life. Della still remembered the bolt of beautiful panic that had seized her when she realized she was going to be a mother. Now, looking down at the flaking polish on toes that were only just visible beneath her belly, Della thought back to that strange and wonderful night when she had conceived.

“Della, where are you going?” Samantha shouted at her back as she lowered herself into the taxi.

Della had not bothered answering her friend. Her response would have provoked more questions that she was not prepared to answer. The truth was Della had just needed some time alone. The dinner with her friends had been grinding to a halt for an hour and she had been slowing going insane listening to them rambling on about their ambitious children, overworked husbands and ever expanding home improvement projects. She had spent the last forty minutes staring at the vacant spot on her finger that, only four months ago, had been home to a beautiful, blazing diamond ring. The sudden end of her engagement had also marked the end to her dream of a family, and with it, any interest she may have had in the rich and thriving lives of her friends. Della could hear the infernal ticking of her clock and felt the ripening of her womb with each passing moment. Her ex had decided he did not want to have children. Four years in and seven months shy of the wedding, the bastard decides he’s too selfish to be a father. Della no longer had any use for men, save one. She still longed for a child.

As the cab pulled away, Della mumbled the address to the large Barnes and Noble bookstore downtown. Even though she had given up a career in journalism years ago, being around books always brought Della comfort and peace. A few hours perusing the stacks and a strong, hot espresso might actually stave off the depression she could feel nipping at her heels.

Della was pleased to find the big bookstore nearly deserted. After all, it was 9pm on a Saturday in the middle of summer; mostly everyone had someplace to go and someone to go there with. Della made for the back of the store and quickly immersed herself in the classics. She found a little alcove with a desk and chair, and settled in with a copy of Gabriel Garcia Marquez’s “Of Love and Other Demons”. Before long, her solitude was disrupted by an accented male voice in the next aisle. He appeared, to Della’s dismay, to be reading something out loud. Della listened for a few moments before, sufficiently annoyed, she set off to confront and chastise the reader. As she rounded the corner, she came to an abrupt stop in front of arguably the most attractive man she had ever seen. Sensing a presence, the man stopped reading and looked up at Della.

“My god, are his eyes violet?” was the only thought Della could muster for a few long minutes.

“Pardon, I am sorry. I get caught up with the words; this language is new to me. I don’t even realize I am reading out loud sometimes.” He smiled, embarrassed and began to lift himself from the floor. He had wavy dark hair, caramel colored skin and dimples and, yes Della could confirm, violet eyes. His accent was one she could not place, it had a strange musicality. The man rose up to his feet and Della followed the lines of his body. The faded blue jeans and black polo shirt did nothing to disguise what was a nearly flawless physique. His wide shoulders and tapered waist balanced perfectly with strong, muscular thighs. Della realized she was staring.

“It’s okay” she stammered.

“Ruvio,” the man said, and extended his hand, “and you are?”

“Delamona…, Della.” She took his hand briefly and released it.

Ruvio tilted his head back, closed his eyes and repeated her name, rolling it off his tongue, making it sound as if it was something delicious he had eaten.

“This is a nice name.” he said, smiling at her.

“Delamona, I would like very much if you would join me for some coffee.” Ruvio had asked her out with the confidence of a man who is not often refused.

Ten minutes later, Della was surprised to find herself on the back of a vintage motorcycle, the night sky bright above her and the city streaming by her. Della wrapped her arms tighter around the handsome stranger, and pulled her body closer to his. She felt a rush of anticipation, felt the pleasant hum of the powerful bike between her thighs.

Ruvio, she would find out later over mugs of steaming black coffee, was from Bosnia. He was here with a ballet troupe that was performing at the Providence Center for Performing Arts. He had been dancing since he was ten and had jumped at the change to take even the smallest of roles if it would give him a chance to travel to the United States. He was a legitimate member of the dance troupe, he had assured Della, as if it had mattered. If he had been a stage tech or even the janitor, Della was already hooked, captivated by those incredible eyes and each melodic word that flowed from his lips.

It was almost midnight by the time Della issued the invitation to go back to her place. By then, she was certain of two things, she did not want the night to end without sleeping with this man and it did not matter in the least that she would likely never see him again. Ruvio had been respectful and polite the entire night but on the narrow stairwell on the way to her door, Della had touched the small of his back in the dark and he seemed to ignite. He pressed her up against the railing, kissing her so deeply and with such abandon, Della felt light-headed and slightly nauseous when he broke off the kiss.

The door had scarcely closed behind them, when Ruvio began to undress her. His hands were soft on her bare skin. He exposed her flesh, covering it with kisses. Working his way down from her neck and shoulders, he sucked at her nipples through the lace of her bra, making the fabric moist and the skin beneath wet and hot. Della reached back and unclasped the bra and shook it off. Ruvio moaned, and the sound made her insides hum. He tugged her down with him onto the floor. The kitchen tile was cold and hard against her back as he worked her jeans and underwear down off her hips. He slipped in between her legs and touched his tongue to her sex, parting it gently, before plunging into her. Della felt the orgasm well up inside her and all at once, he pulled back and began to lick her in soft, lazy circles, moving off every time she raised her hips to push herself against his mouth. He worked her over and over, bringing her, writhing and begging to the brink, then backing off, teasing and taunting.

Della managed to slip her hands inside his jeans and found him hard and straining against the fabric. When she tried to free him, he moved her hands away and went at her with renewed passion. It was only when her body began to buck with the force of her climax that she felt the dancer’s tongue slip out of her. Ruvio drove his dick into her as she clawed at his chiseled body in the dark. She felt him coil inside her and heard a stream of foreign words rain down around her ears. When he came, Ruvio tipped his head back and howled, his throat a mass of taunt muscle. He collapsed down on her, breathing in ragged breaths into the curve of her neck.

After a few moments, Della got to her feet and helped Ruvio to his. She snagged a bottle of Merlot from her wine rack and balancing two glasses in her fingers, lead him to her bedroom. Harriet, her Siamese cat, protested loudly when Della chased her from her favorite spot and nearly closed the door on her tail. Ruvio shed the remainder of his clothes and gracefully accepted a glass of deep red nourishment. Della curled up at the foot of the bed, taking him in one perfect inch at a time. He had great legs, like sculpted marble, covered in a course black hair up to mid-thigh. She crawled forward towards him, running her hands up the insides of his legs until she dropped her head and took him into her mouth. This time the lovemaking was slow and methodical. While passionate, she discovered Ruvio was also very attentive and considerate. When he was on top of her he kept his eyes on hers, and spoke in soft whispers about how beautiful she was, how pretty her body was. As he moved her body through position after position, he did it with the eloquence and confidence of a man who has had many lovers. The hours waned as soon it was the morning sun and not moonlight streaming through the windows.

Though he had done so many times throughout the night in the throes of passion, he did not profess his love to Della when he readied himself to leave. She did join him for one last fuck in the shower, a raunchy and playful romp that left the bathroom floor streaming with water and suds. He had hoisted her up and held her soapy body tight as he thrust up into her, rattling the glass shower doors and sending Harriet into a startled flight across the apartment. He left Della with a kiss and a ticket to the night’s performance, his last in the city. Della closed the door and caught Harriet up in her arms and tried to calm her frightened pet. She crawled into bed with the cat and fell asleep almost immediately. She did not make Ruvio’s farewell performance.

Aside from the occasional urge to vomit and some obnoxious lower back pain, her pregnancy thus far had been relatively uneventful. These last few weeks she had been riding an emotional roller coaster fueled, she knew, largely by raging hormones. The rampant mood swings had brought her to the edge of near despair and lifted her to the heights of happiness. Della found it exhausting. She struggled with her decision not to tell Ruvio that their tryst had resulted in the child she now carried. She struggled with the guilt of knowing perhaps that had been her goal all along. Had she not looked into his eyes and dreamed of her child’s irises possessing the same brilliant hues? Had she not seen his dark, exotic looks and thought, even once, my god, he would make beautiful babies? The baby moved again and it was a strange, fluttering feeling. In three days she would learn the sex of her baby, she was already trying out several names in her head. Della was hoping for a girl and she thought the name Ruvena had a lovely ring.