The sea breeze whispered to my ear in a gentle and refined voice, a humming and alluring lullaby. "Don't say a word", it said.

And I kept the secret with me until the time the ocean served as my ultimate grave.

Starting on today, the wonderful collection of short stories titled The Decameron, hosted by awesome rskovach , Rita Kovach, will feature Team Secrets. I once was part of this group, lead by my friend and so talented author Nyhterides , yet due to personal situations, I wasn't able to continue with the group. Still, I wrote my story and even though it's not included in The Decameron, follows the group's original theme and prompts.

I hope you enjoy this story as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Amongst the writers featured are: FinnyH BelitAm KarlOConnor LynnS13 ThoughtsOnPaper GregCarrico EliseNoble TaliaArcher gabycabezut Karimsuliman lavinialeigh JessicaBFry TheOrangutan HardeeBurger johannahefer @prose-punk
@CyrilBunt LLSanders @IoannaKolifoti and many others.

Go and check on The Decameron if you haven't yet. You won't regret. http://my.w.tt/UiNb/aQ0XyAx2CA

Absenta

A woman becomes a woman when she gets married, they say, however she loses all traits of womanhood to become either a servant if she's poor or a presentation card if she's rich. I've taken my role to the limits and there's no better carnet for my husband than me. Only if he knew my ways...

It was the longest of the summer nights and the sun resisted to hide, tiptoeing above the painted in gold and scarlet horizon. The colors of the sunset on the Caribbean Sea's placid waters matched with the burning pyres along the beach line outsides the Walled City. Bonfires lit in the name of the Island's capital patron and saint, San Juan Bautista.

The locals, dressed in light cotton clothes as an obliged outfit to repel mosquitoes and the tropical heat, filed down the cobblestoned streets in ceremonious procession, conversing amusedly, while carrying wicker baskets loaded with fruits, cheese, cured ham and wine for those able to afford it. Others carried what was left in the cupboards: bread, hard crackers, and home-distilled rum. And then it was me... and I was above all of them.

My thoughts rambled amidst the silky ivory fabric of my evening gown, sequins, and appliqué reflecting the light coming from The Christ's Chapel. Inside the sanctuary, small enough to fit one or two people at a time, a hundred candles lit. The dancing flames illuminated the statue of Jesus crucified and the street as we rode by. The horse's hooves clacked a mortifying quickstep that broke the spell, that sudden connection with morality I had, lasting only the time it took me to recite the Pater Noster. "... and forgive my sins, Amen." I shrugged knowing there wasn't forgiveness for an adulterer.

Singing and laughing cadences, a group of Marines neared, waving goodbyes while mounted on the back of a fancy calash. People formed on the sidewalks to watch them pass by on their way to La Marquesa as special guests, ironically juxtaposed with the memory, as recent as twenty years passed when the hatred Spanish guards patrolled the capital. Two decades ago, no one even turned to look at, neither to smile or to greet soldiers. Today, Gringos were heroes to the locals, the saviors who rescued the island from a decadent and oppressive Spanish Crown's imperialism.

To all my musings I let escape a chuckle. It wasn't a night for politics, of those I had enough with my husband. Fortuitously, he had just left in one of his constant voyages to take care of the Island's exterior affairs. Martinique and sugar cane business came in with perfect timing to take Damiano out of sight for at least three days, and tonight I would place the cards over the table, and myself into another man's bed to get my beloved husband the amount of money needed to buy some votes in the Higher Chambers if needed, only for him to be sworn deputy and to ensure a stable marriage and life.

It was a week ago, when I received the invitation, too formal considering the sender and the business, yet a splendid idea to mask the true intentions behind it. As I read it, it wasn't only my heart palpitating in my body. Julien Jean Bouvier made my spirits, my flesh and blood boil with incandescent passion with his mere presence and every night we spent together, our bodies burned like incense on his bed. Amongst all my lovers, he was the only one who never was a one stand only.

A few years younger than me, the lucky brat inherited a fortune and a prosperous business. Easily seduced by rumors spreading in the States of a Caribbean tropical paradise, bargains on lands and cheap working hand, there were no second thoughts given and once he arrived in San Juan Bouvier fell in love with it... and perhaps, with me. Every time he came to the island, I had an appointment at his bedchambers either for business or for sex.

The chariot stopped in front of his mansion and I dismissed my driver. "Of this not a single word Juan. You know our deal."

"Don't you ever worry ma'am. You've paid well my services and my secrecy."

"Good. If someone asks, I'm gonna spend the night at aunt Carmen's house. The poor lady is so old and frail."

"Descuide doñita", he put the sack of gold in his pocket, helped me climb down the calash and rode away.

A maidservant named Alondra —too pretty to be a servant—, guided me into the house, like if I didn't know the way straight to his room. I rolled my eyes. I heard some voices in the distance, coming from the formal dining room and that unsettled me a little. We were not alone in the house and that knotted frustration and confusion in my head. Julien's figure appeared in the main hall, his straightened back and high shoulders, altogether with half a smile on his face and relaxed pace told me he was acting up his greatness and maybe economics and business would win over lust tonight.

"Bienvenida hermosa", he kissed me on the lips making my heart stop for a second, not in the way it used to, this time I didn't know who else was in the house beside us. "Nary time nor distance had ever faded your beauty, my love."

"Thank you Julien, but I thought this would be a more intimate date."

"I assure you, intimacy tonight will be hallucinating. Your husband will hear you scream across the sea when I take you on my bed." He grabbed my waist tightly, pulling me towards him and pressing his lips on my neck.

"Please Julien, were not alone and I'm a married woman."

"Don't play the saint to me Aimeé. You've never cared of your matrimony more than the business it represents. Everything for you is stamped with a dollar seal, even that precious thing between your legs... and you know it's worth it. There's nothing to worry about, none of your lovers is here tonight."

"You know your conceited demeanor turns me on, did you?" I bit his lower lip.

"It looks that Damiano hasn't played well his husband role lately, hasn't he? It's good he's neglected you this much, we will set on fire my bed tonight."

Julien walked me to the dining room. Eight people sat at the long rectangular table. A few faces I recognized, others I knew well as part of the Island's elites, yet not all of them precisely a pleasure to be seen in special Belen Lucía León Valentín. She was nothing more than a whore with luck and whom I knew shared the same beds I did.

My seat was next to a new face, a too handsome man named Varian de Vera and who was winning all my attention making me wish to switch bed sheets that evening. His long dark hair and deep black eyes made him surreal. A melodious and appealing voice and fine manners at the table gave him an air of superiority indescribable, even more than our host. And I wasn't the only one charmed by him, Belen darted her eyes at him like daggers anointed in her cheap perfume across the table.

Dinner was delicious, as it was expected and chat became easier to carry on even with Belén, as I've finally found out who she was after that evening, the middle aged new dentist in town named Harvey. An Irish immigrant who found in the capital the ideal place to build his novel empire of pulling out rotten molars and bleaching teeth. That left me either Varian and Julien entirely for me. It's been years since the last time I spent the night with two men at a time.

JJ guided the group of ten people to the terrace. It was a stunning night view of the sea. On the distance, the intermittent flare of the lighthouse was seen and the bonfires burnt along the seashore in the name of the Island's patron.

On the rear corner on the terrace, Alondra placed on the bar a sumptuous crystal pitcher containing a green liquor and set glasses with what it seemed to be sugar cubes in each one of them. Knowing Julien so well I inferred it wasn't a tropical cocktail drink. A gorgeous and ancient looking liquor bottle was placed by the pitcher's side. Its label read Absenta, and had us wondering what it was. Julien was known by his exotic and unique taste of wines and food, but also on the most bizarre ways to get high. I smiled as I inferred what he intended when he said "hallucinating" when he referred of our sexual intercourse that night.

"Let's toast for friendship. Nary the cruelest destiny nor our darkest secret ever diminish the real meaning of that word. Because secrets are all we have and true friendship is all about it, of the many secrets we share that bind us one to another more than we have ever thought." Julien raised his glass and we looked at each other, prying eyes and shrugging shoulders, yet in the end, we all were aware of how poetical or satirical Bouvier could get.

"To friendship... to secrets!" We all cheered to the host's request. The sweetness of the liquor poured down into my mouth and throat, sticking warm to my palate along with the granulated richness of the sugar. Of that only I tasted a bit, I've been never fond of it, never in drinks.

And Julien made it again. He'd fooled all of us as the emerald elixir inhibited everyone's senses. It took no time and already my mind set up, I ended with both JJ and Varian in Bouvier's bedroom. It was pretty soon when I found out that Julien and Varian shared their secret, something that made the night together even more intimate and spicier between us three.

Bedding both men was hallucinating. My pores exuded lust and pleasure in the most indescribable ways, a feast to my senses as I was taken, claimed first by JJ, then by Varian and when exhaustion overpowered us three, we fell asleep on Julien's bed.

Next morning the sun, gentle as it was, blazed on my face to wake me up. I twisted and turned on the bed holding my head to feel as if a thousand needles stung my brain. I jerked up to a distant sharp scream and found Varian all naked by my side. Wobbling, I managed to get up and walked towards the window. People gathered around what seemed a floating cadaver of a man at the beach, just a few steps from the room. A cold chill ran up my spine as I saw how incredibly he looked alike... Julien!

I searched everywhere to find he wasn't in the room... but, how? He spent the night with me... with us!

"Wake up! Wake up! We must go to the beach now! I think Julien is dead!" I shook Varian, but the man didn't move, his body was stiff and cold. With trembling hands, I turned the man to his sides. Eyes wide opened, blank his stare, mouth half open, a thin trail of white foam glued to his face and neck.

"Oh God, no!" Varian was dead. How? Why? By whom? Why I was the only one alive! We were all drugged... no. All my body shook. I was so confused. I remembered nothing...

Only one thing was sure, I had to leave in that instant. I gathered all my stuff and made my way out of the room, but the door opened before I did. My face dropped to the floor along with the clothes in my arms when I saw Damiano, my husband, standing in front of me, his lips curving up halfway mischievously. He grabbed me by an arm, his eyes beaming disappointment. "Somehow I knew you wouldn't have the sugar. Please get dressed, we have a deal to be closed. Harvey wants to buy a whore and you're on sale. Finally, I can get a fair price for you."

The End