I was completely lost in my bubble, sitting on the couch, reading Mona Lisa Overdrive when his vague shadowy appearance knelt before me, but that was not enough to disrupt my attention and a small polite cough finally dragged back in the same reality as his.
By the tragic and concerned expression on his face, I was ready to face the worse news possible.
He signed. I tensed.
"I have bad news."
He took a long serious look at me and took my hands in his, locking his eyes in mine.
"There is no wi-fi in the cabin, in the woods."
I remained quite quiet, stunned and surprised, but not yet fully realizing the minimalistic gravity of the situation, and the greater prank oriented flavor of his confession. I remained in silence for a moment more, but nothing was added. There he remained, holding his tragic expression, until a single spark glimmered in his eyes and the faint shadow of a smile passed on the corner of his lips.
"Tom! You... Oh you! ... Actor!"
He burst into the most delightful jovial laughter as I fell on him, or in his arms, trying, without really trying to hammer his chest with my tiny fists.
"You really fooled me! I was ready for ...
"The End of the World ?"
"Well... something more serious... tragic?"
"No Internet for two whole weeks, while you are stuck with me and my family in a wooden house in the middle of winter-wonderland nowhere in the Great Canadian Wilderness. Isn't that tragic enough? No Facebook, no Twitter, no blogging, no photo sharing, no passionate crusades..."
"I would spend Christmas in a cave in Antarctica with you if you'd ask me!"
"I can only imagine the possibilities."
I slid on the floor, trapped in his arms again, and once more, more than happy to be lost in the open waters of his passionate embrace. As he barely slid a hand under my pullover, my body answered immediately to the invitation.
"You know... you are not obliged to ..." He vaguely tried to speak between passionate deeply contradictory kisses. "... each time ... I start..."
"You are basically ... telling me that ... it's not because a chocolate cake is put in front of me that I am obliged to eat it. To which I answer : Why would I not?"
"I am a chocolate cake for you."
"A Black Forest chocolate cake. The best."
"Chocolate cakes tend to induce women into unwanted gain of pounds."
"Not gaining a single pound devouring you!"
He didn't continue the conversation by strategically moving his lips down my neck, while a hand openly made his way up my opposite side, almost a subtle, silent, invitation to ponder the topic at hand.
"Mmhhm...."He drew a burning hot and humid trail in the curve of my neck and shoulder, making me shiver and giggle in delight as the hand finally reached the destination and decided to take a rest, atop a soft hill he knew all too well.
"Why are we having this conversation?"
He half stopped his enterprise and rested half his body on his free elbow, keeping his other hand where it lay, randomly stroking my chest, as a small reminder that things were far from over, just yet.
"You know I am working on Manon Lescaut at the moment, right?"
I nodded my agreement.
"The French term "engrosser" came into topic yesterday and that incredible French actress ... Jeanne ... she was very much in the mood of her character and asked me - something about my plans of "getting you fat." He chuckled and moved closer to my ear to whisper. "She said that I should start working the dough..."
And working he indeed started, as he passionately stirred his tongue with mine, a hand keeping the rest of the material warm and soft.
"So, what does... a chocolate cake and a...how do you see yourself in this great astrology of the baked pastries?"
"I'm most probably an apple pie."
"So, what is the sum of a chocolate cake and an apple pie?"
I took a moment to ponder, trying as best as I could to contain the uncontrollable laughter that was about to take me over.
"I guess that a chocolate pie with traces of apple and accents of cinnamon wouldn't a bad culinary experiment..."
"The only way to know is to try, right?"
I didn't reply to that, his mouth was already agreeing to my answer as his tongue swirled mine into the elaboration of the finer details.