Tidal Wave by Roberta Latow

appearance.”
    They were silent for a minute, looking into each other’s eyes. Then he said, “I want to seduce you physically, emotionally, and spiritually. Does that frighten you?”
    “No,” she said, with the most tantalizing smile and sparkling eyes. “Not if you do it well and can accomplish it.”
    He chuckled and said, “It might be a question of who is seducing whom.”
    She smiled and said, “Yes, it might, mightn’t it?”
    The soup bowls empty, they put them aside. Arabella replaced the tureen in the center of the table with a large silver dish with a balloon-shaped cover. She opened the cover using the two small handles at the top. The lid slid down to reveal a large crystal bowl filled with caviar, the best black Beluga. It was set in a circle of crushed ice and lemon halves, covered in fine cheesecloth. She uncovered another dish filled with paper-thin pancakes, and another small silver bowl filled with thick white sour cream.
    “I know it’s extravagant!” said Arabella. “But that’s how I felt when I ordered lunch. Now I’m doubly glad I did because I have a guest. I do hope that you like Russian caviar.”
    “One of my weaknesses,” said Nicholas. “What a wonderful lunch and a wonderful hostess.”
    Embarrassed, she went a little pink and said, “May I make the first blini for you the way I make them for myself?”
    “Yes, please.”
    Arabella then assembled the classic Russian specialty that the ancient Slavs used to eat to reassure themselves in the dead of winter that the sun would one day return. First she picked up one of the hot pancakes with the tips of her fingers and smoothed it out flat on a plate. Then with a silver spoon she spread a thick layer of sour cream over it. With the crystal spoon, she scooped up a huge portion of black caviar, which she put in the center of the pancake, then she reached for one of the lemons and squeezed it over the caviar.
    “I think I should tell you,” Arabella said, “that I don’t roll them as one should. I never like blinis that are all pancake and a touch of the black eggs, only when they are all caviar and a touch of pancake!” She handed him the plate.
    Nicholas watched her make one for herself and laughed when she filled the crystal spoon with caviar from her plate and tore off a corner of the pancake. She slid the spoon into her mouth and rolled her eyes in an expression of delight as she slid the now-empty spoon out again, quickly popping in the piece of pancake and sour cream after it.
    She amused him with a hand gesture as if rubbing her tummy in a circle and said, “Oh, Nicholas, this is sublime!”
    He agreed with her. It was divine. She made them each another as he opened a second bottle of champagne. They indulged themselves in silence, savoring the luxurious lunch.
    He stood up and, moving around to sit next to her on the sofa, filled her glass. He put the bottle down in front of them on the table after moving some of the empty dishes.
    He looked at her and said, “That was a wonderful lunch. Memorable.”
    Kissing her on the lips lightly, tenderly, almost hesitantly, he leaned back, moved closer to her, and drew her to him. He felt her relax into his arm. She rested her headon his shoulder. The touch of her silk dressing gown and her body in his arms was enough to release the passion and tenderness he had felt when he had seen her through the binoculars during her spectacular arrival on the ship. He caressed her hair, kissed her on the cheek, and pulled her tighter to him. He tilted her face up to his and said, “I think you are divine.”
    Arabella responded by twisting around in his arms, lying down with her head resting in his lap. Then she reached up and pulled his head down to hers. First she kissed him ever so gently on his lips — a whisper of a kiss. Then she pointed her tongue and outlined the shape of his lips.
    Nicholas thought he would melt, the fire she ignited in him was so hot. He pulled her up tight in