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<It screams "I belong to Maximus!" She hoplessly pulls on her tight skirt and swears. An incoming SMS tells her the key is available for her to pick up. The next second, the small Swiss knife she always keeps in her handbag cuts the expensive fabric, opening her skirt on the outside of her thigh, freeing her movements...>


A la guerre comme à la guerre! (French expression meaning "You've got to do what you've got to" (i.e like in war times...)).

<Her cheek in contact with his back, enjoying herself immensly, she sometimes points her finger to direct Maximus to the house of the real estate agent. His house is a little bit hard to reach as Maximus' bike has no GPS and she only came once...>

There!

<Maximus parks on the road in front of the house and she goes down, pushing her skirt down the best she can. Approaching the door, she gives a short knock and turns reassuringly toward her lover, raising two fingers to tell him it will only take a few seconds. The door opens briskly.>

Good evening Mademoiselle Le Saint...

Yes, good evening to you too. Hum...you see, my friend is dying to see the house during night time and I thought "why wait? Hey, let's live dangerously" tada...and here I am. Can I have the keys?

In a hurry are you? <She watches him throwing looks at Maximus and assessing the situation>

Yes <a whisper, is there anything more she can say? Maybe...> indeed. I promise I'm giving the order to my bank tomorrow and I'll come to see you right after to sign the contract. Please?

<He disappears inside and comes back after a while with a key holder, presenting them to her. As she extends her hand and grabs the keys, he doesn't let them go.>

I'm counting on you then.

<With an apoligistic smile, she yanks at the keys and without waiting another second, she turns around and says> You have my word! <To Maximus, she throws the wickest smile... and mouths> Let's go!!!

<Excited in the nicest way, Sophie pulls out her new home keys and approaches it from the lock. Her home. Her new life. Maximus' breath on her neck makes her smile. Her lips are aching nicely after a rather good kissing session that his deliberate touch of the skin portion revealed by her cut shirt triggered.

Languorously, he had traced a path up with his hand, until it reached her lips. Her breath short, she had licked the tip of his finger until Maximus had replaced his finger with his own lips on her mouth.

The sun is set and the night so close. Such a promising night to come...

She fumbles with the lock until Maximus' steady hand covers hers and helps her put the key in. Two turns and the door can be opened. No bothering with the light, they step inside and make it to the big French windows.

For a second, Maximus proximity is broken as he goes to the kitchen table nearby and puts down the bottle of wine he has brought for the occasion A hand at her nape. Turning around, she faces and tries to have a better look at his eyes with the faint light coming from the outside.>

There's no rational way to explain that I can feel a strong bound between us. No rational way to explain that even we've only met a few months ago in Rome, I've known you for a long time. I will accept that for the time being. My dreams of you tell me of a troubled past. I want you to promise that you will answer any question that I will have when the time comes and that you won't lie to me. I don't want to place my trust in you and wake up one day to discover that you twisted the past only to serve the present.

Maximus est parti... (Maximus is gone).

<She has called him after finding the place where he has slept empty. And now she says it aloud, her disappointment is difficult to hide from her voice. For a moment she just listens to the noises around her. Except for the sound of the wind ruffling the tree leaves there's nothing. Naked, she wanders through the house, knocking on walls to feel the material under, crouching to pat the wooden floor and leaving her hand slide on the furniture to feel. A better picture of her house - finally a place to call home - starts to form into her mind. If there's any changing to do, she'll stick to organic stuff. The paintings, the building materials, the decoration. A house part and in the middle of nature. Sophie couldn't just use ordinary materials...

In a bookcase close to the living room entrance, she grabs a leather-bound book that seems old. It's a collection of Lord Byron poems. Although she could never understand Verlaine or Rimbaud's poems learned in school (and thus developed a complex of inferiority about being unable to grasp the beauty in them), she opens the book on the first page. Someone wrote:>

"The poet doesn't invent. He listens. Jean Cocteau".

<This makes sense...Then, she randomly flips through the pages and stops...>

There is a pleasure in the pathless woods,

There is a rapture on the lonely shore,

There is society, where none intrudes,

By the deep sea, and music in its roar;

I love not the man less, but nature more,

From these our interviews, in which I steal

From all I may be, or have been before,

To mingle with the universe, and feel

What I can ne'er express, yet cannot all conceal.

<This, she can understand...sort of. Walking toward the window as she reads through it again, she lets the words roll in her mind. Suddenly, the main door opens and Maximus stands there, two big braun bags in his arms... >