Red.

   A bright red, a fire that was raging in the depths of his soul. That red.

   He had never felt so trapped between two opposing forces, he had never wished to obey both, at the same time. Never, but then.

   The dress was long, light, exuberant. It highlighted the curves of the woman standing in front of him. It exposed a smooth, golden back, drawing a deep décolleté. Her neck was long and uncovered. Her ebony hair was gathered in a shiny and rich chignon. The desire to smell that hair was so strong. It smelled like flowers, he was sure. He wished to kiss that neck, so elegant, so fragile. He wanted to sink his teeth in it, to greedily suck the warm fluid still pulsing in her veins. It would have run on her back, then on the dress, intertwining in a euphoria of scarlet death.

   The woman turned slowly, first her head. For a few moments, she held her head in profile. Her nose was small and straight, her eyes were turned toward the floor, her lips smiled. Then she spun around.

   Two dark curls framed her graceful face. Her eyes were shining. The same eyes that had deceived and tormented him so many times. That were now keeping him trapped in a fatal darkness, forced to burn with desire and die inside. He should have closed those eyes forever and kissed those lips in a sweet, final farewell, with no regrets nor pain. But he couldn’t do it when he had had the chance, when she was sleeping defenseless in his bed, spreading her warm breath on his skin.

   He couldn’t do it because, in the moment his mind had regained its usual lucidity and coldness, in the moment he had felt ready to put an end to that woman’s fate, her eyes had opened slowly and, looking at him, deprived him of any intention.

   Now, that woman was moving towards him, graceful, seductive, determined. Her fingers were sliding on the wall, while she was getting closer. He wanted to get those shoes off, lick her feet, suck them, possess their agility and elegance. He wanted to grab those heels, hold them tight and push them with all his strength into the chest of the woman who had turned his world upside down. But he knew he couldn’t do it. Not then. Maybe someday, maybe never.

   The walls, which were surrounding a wide room, illuminated by the soft light of a chandelier suspended above a leather sofa and a small table polished in fine wood, were now dissolving in front of his eyes. The space around him was crumbling in one long sigh, as it if were nothing more than the product of a reckless dream.

   The woman, however, was still there, with an enigmatic smile curling her lips. With her left hand she was now touching an empty space, a greenish light that was growing stronger. Her mouth opened to say something, but the wonderful voice that must have come out didn’t reach his ears.

   It was a dream.  It couldn't be anything else. He was just reliving that scene, those feelings, those desires and impulses.

   Together with the world that was fading around him, he returned to a lost awareness. He remembered he was awake. He wasn’t in that room, in that sumptuous villa. The emptiness was slowly being replaced by trees, ground, grass, a clear sky, an excessive heat. The woman was now being replaced by another woman. She was limping in a dress that was too short for her curves. She leaned on the trunks of the trees and said something. She seemed to be complaining, but he still couldn’t hear her words.

   He looked around, aware of his reality again. The woman was holding a heeled shoe. She looked exhausted and he could tell she was out of breath even from that distance. The red of the dress stood out in contrast to the green it was immersed in.

   Red.

   That red.