Glitz Kids - Episode 6 E-Book

Alexandria Emilia Rawa

• Herausgeber: Berlinable UG (haftungsbeschränkt)
• Kategorie: Erotik
• Serie: Glitz Kids
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2020

Seitenzahl: 106

Beschreibung

Rico's and Kamila's relaxed holiday on Aruba continues. Even though the island is tiny, its size is perfect for the two lovers, offering romantic adventures of any kind, bringing the lovers closer. From unexpected expeditions to the supermarket - a place that Kamila never goes to in a fear of paparazzi - to passionate nights on the beach, Rico and Kamila revel in the beauty of the sun-filled island. But things take a grim turn from there. Forced to come back to Berlin, Kamila can't help but remember the dark parts of her family history. As hate and misery overwhelm her emotional world, her love for Rico remains the last ray of sunshine she can cling to. When she's finally ready to express herself, another shock follows. Will Rico return the adoration or shatter Kamila's poor heart? Glitz Kids is a tasteful erotic novel where passion, secrecy, love, and pain are closely intertwined. It reveals shameful but irresistible desires, that even people who have it all cannot resist.

Leseprobe

GLITZ KIDS

6 / 7

Truths

Alexandria Emilia Rawa

Cover: Giada Armani

Copyright: BERLINABLE UG

Berlinable invites you to leave all your fears behind and dive into a world where sex is a tool for self-empowerment.

Our mission is to change the world - one soul at a time.

When people accept their own sexuality, they build a more tolerant society.

Words to inspire, to encourage, to transform.

Open your mind and free your deepest desires.

All rights reserved. It is not permitted to copy, distribute or otherwise publish the content of this eBook without the express permission of the publisher. Subject to changes, typographical errors and spelling errors. The plot and the characters in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to dead or living people or public figures is not intended and are purely coincidental.

Rico // Aruba // 19 August 2013

My brush glides over the small canvas. Sometimes I overdo a bit with the water, colored drops run down and drip to the ground. But I don't care, it looks artistic. I could even say it was intentional.

I haven't painted with watercolors on an easel in a long time, I realize. It's too rare in my life because it's fun. I can totally relax, and yet it's kind of exciting. The reason for this is, of course, mainly Kamila.

She sits in front of me, on one of the high bar stools from the kitchen and is almost naked. All she wears is very short jean shorts, and I think I'm crazy to be thinking that way, but it’s even better than if she were completely naked. That would be kind of too easy and clumsy, and that's not Kamila. She has opened the button, but her shorts don't slide down but nestle against her hips without revealing too much. But I can use my imagination. I can't help but think that she isn’t wearing underwear because she often doesn’t.

That's Kamila. She activates my imagination without doing much. Sure, she's a model. She's tall, slim, sexy, pretty, attractive and everything. She can flirt with her whole body, but also with a single gesture, even without looking at me. Sometimes I get the feeling she can even flirt by just thinking.

She can undress me with her eyes. I can do that too, very well, but she also knows the foreign word for it. She told me several times, but I forgot. Apodysis? Aphrodiopsia? Something like that.

But she is particularly fascinating when she does nothing. Just like now. She just sits halfway on this stool, has one leg bent casually, the other stretched out. Her hair hangs undone over her shoulders and in her face, covering one eye, but not her nipples. She doesn't care.

Her spine is slightly visible against her back because she is not sitting straight, but it still looks good. She takes turns looking at her toes, the ground, the view, or me, very rarely. She's the rest herself.

It's almost like I'm touching her when I'm painting her. With pleasure, I let my gaze wander over her tanned skin. It's pretty awesome to be able to look so obviously at every part of her body.

I am rarely too shy to look at it when I already have the opportunity. Here on the island anyway. Nobody else sees us here, and I know she likes to be looked at. And I like to look at it. Actually, it's a win-win situation.

But still - if I can do it in the name of art, I do it shamelessly and am proud of it.

"I think life would be a lot poorer without the female body..." I grin, lick my lips subconsciously and draw Kamila’s curves on the canvas with the brush.

"Hmm?" she goes amused, still looking down.

"Yes. And without Jacuzzis," I say.

And that makes her smile. "Waterbeds."

"Waterbeds too." I nod and make a few more brush strokes.

The picture will be ready in a moment. I haven't painted anything like this in a long time. A bit abstract, rough, simple lines, but none without meaning. I don't think that one would immediately recognize from the outside that it is supposed to represent Kamila. It could theoretically be another blond woman. Only when people know me is there no question about it.

Normally, I don't paint everyone I come across. It must make me feel good to draw someone. Otherwise, I can take photos.

Mostly I like to paint women anyway, I notice. And suddenly I remember who I used to sketch all the time.

Samantha.

My heart sinks into my pants instantly. It almost feels like it's going to stop. An oppressive feeling creeps up on me. I pause, and without noticing it I press the brush repeatedly on one random place.

The thoughts are absolutely shitty and not welcome, but I just can't turn them off.

I remember my first sketchbook. I drew secretly at first because Samantha was insanely annoyed by the fact that I kept looking at her from the side and that there was something on the scribble all the time... She felt like she was being watched. Not free. With Kamila, it's the exact opposite.

"Rico", Kamila asks all of a sudden and immediately all my thoughts fizzle out, I am immediately back in reality again.

"Yes."

"I'm just wondering..." she says and when I look at her, she plays with her hair and grins at me cheekily. "It's unfair that you can paint me almost naked if you're wearing pants and a T-shirt."

"Aha!" I laugh. "What are you trying to say?"

"Take your clothes off or show me the picture," she answers briefly.

"It's almost done, really," I promise and step back a few steps from the canvas to see the picture from a distance.

Kamila just hums, demonstratively tilts her head backward and seesaws with her foot. She keeps surprising me with how her moods change. Not negatively, it's just interesting. A minute ago, she was the epitome of relaxation, totally chill, and now she seems so jittery and impatient again.

"Ready, Mr. Da Vinci?" she asks a few minutes later.

I'm unsure, I clap a little bit of paint on the spot where her shorts are supposed to be. Then I sigh and wipe a few drops of sweat off my forehead.

"Yes, well, it doesn't get any better, either..." I notice, and immediately Kamila runs to me to look at the work.

"Hot!" she exclaims.

Admittedly, it takes a load off my mind. I like the picture myself, and no artist likes it when someone finds their art shitty if I'm being honest.

"Really?" I ask again just in case.

"She kisses me on the cheek and reaches for my hand to hook our fingers.

For a while, we stand together in front of the screen and look at the colorful lines. I almost reach for the brush again to correct something, to paint differently, but Kamila holds me back.

"I like it that way," she says. "It’s perfect."

I grin crookedly and look at her in disbelief. "You perfectionist of all people..."

"Yes, very well. You know, Pfister, perfectionists are also characterized by the fact that they know when something has reached the state of perfection," Kamila smarts snottily and makes me laugh.

"Don't laugh," she grins and crosses her arms in front of her naked chest. "Just believe me when I say it's alright."

Finally, I put the brush away and raise my arms. "Okay, okay."

Kamila smiles, nods and snuggles her half-naked body back to mine. I can feel her putting her chin on my shoulder. Her familiar scent rises into my nose and for a moment, I close my eyes, breathe a sigh of relief. So, everything's just fine. I can hear the sea rushing outside, which is insane. And it is only now that I notice that I have become so accustomed to it that I hardly hear it in everyday life. Great.

"Rico?"

"Hm?" - I open my eyes sluggishly again and squint at Kamila.

"How do you paint happiness?"

I'm proud. "Huh?"

She smiles softly. "Yeah, that's exactly what I was wondering. You can paint a thousand things - people, animals, plants, dead objects, any patterns... But can you paint feelings? Can you paint happiness?"

Then she goes quiet again, and I think about her words. That was another example of one of those little things that Kamila just says. I've stopped wondering where she gets it from. It's just the way she is. And she expresses thoughts that I would never have thought of myself. I appreciate her sharing all these little things with me because that's what makes her so special.

How do you paint happiness? The question haunts me. There's nothing I can do about it. And once you think about it a little, it's even harder to say. I mean... What is happiness anyway? Somehow that's a stupid word. Is there a definition of it? You can define love, hate, and joy, jealousy, grief. But luck? You can experience luck, or you can be lucky. But even that's just a state that comes and goes, isn't it?

Oh, man, if that woman weren't here, my head would definitely explode.

"Maybe you can't answer that, maybe it's totally stupid, sorry." - She shakes her head against my shoulder and strokes her hair back.

I'm looking at her. Even though she's almost naked, my gaze sticks to her face. On her eyes. I have to smile involuntarily because she looks at the floor from time to time, almost shyly, which Kamila is now really good at. So, she becomes sweet and cute, and somehow, I feel warm around my heart because I can feel big and strong next to her.

"I don't think that's stupid at all..." I say then, pulling Kamila a little closer to me at the waist and stroking her side up and down thoughtfully with my fingers. "But I actually can't answer it."

I share my thoughts on happiness with her. Sometimes I feel almost silly about it. I, the professional footballer, philosophize in the Caribbean about the definition of happiness... Kind of weird. But Kamila listens attentively and gives me the feeling that I'm not talking the craziest shit after all.

"I just think... Even if one could paint happiness, everyone would do it differently anyway," I finally finish my monologue and am almost out of breath of all the talking and thinking.

"Hmm. You're probably right." Kamila says. "If you ever find out how to do it, you can show me."

"Absolutely."

Kamila // Aruba // 02 September 2013

We're in the Caddy Escalade, but I have no idea where we're going. Rico was so mysterious lately and at some point, he announced that he wants to kidnap me today for a surprise trip.

Admittedly, I've never been so excited and euphoric about the word 'surprise'. I don't like not knowing what's in front of me. Life is already unpredictable enough, why should I try and artificially add any unknown factors? Seems highly irrational to me somehow.

But because it's Rico... It can't be that bad. Automatically I must smile.

It's afternoon now, but we've been awake since half-past eight today. Actually, we are both late risers and couch potatoes in our hearts, but here we always go to bed very late and wake up so early on our own.

I think that's the only way you can really tell that you're having a good time right now. Sleep is suddenly no longer escape and rest from reality, but a pure waste of time. And those moments are rare. A fucking rarity, like Suicune of Pokémon.

At least that's the way it is in my life - even though I've traveled every continent, stayed in the most expensive hotels and got to know the most famous people. All this has no meaning anymore, my whole life so far is downgraded to a completely different level when I compare all the past years with the few weeks in Aruba with Rico.

Sleeping here is definitely a waste of time. Except for sleeping together. Ha ha. Nah, that's right.

At eleven o'clock today we had already taken a shower and had a good breakfast. Quark with fresh Rambutan, Pitahayas, Kiwi, and Cherimoya. Rico cut himself some carambola. But this is the only thing where our opinions diverge.

Yes, all the exotic tropical fruits whose shape, smell and taste we made fun of on our first visit to the weekly market, and whose pure existence I would not have fucked a year ago, I now know by name.