Read Out of the Dark for Free Online

his lips to mine, sharing in the sweet flavor of the grape. His kiss is slow at first, then our tongues touch, and I taste only him.
    I slide my arms around his shoulders and pull him into me. I want him to know that I want this. I want him.
    My neck sways to the side as he forces my mouth open further, and he lets out a moan. It’s a guttural sound filled with desire. His hand slides down my back, over the curve of my ass . . .
    He stops.
    “Please,” I beg, but he shakes his head.
    “I’m finding it very difficult to remain a gentleman around you.”
    I raise an eyebrow. “So, don’t.”
    He looks at the ground. “I may have known you for just a short while, but in that time, I’ve decided there are certain things you deserve, and my good behavior is one of them.”
    “If this is you on good behavior, I’d hate to see when you’re bad.”
    He pauses and the look on his face is severe. “I like to take my time.”
    He takes my hand in his, and we begin to walk again. He doesn’t explain his actions further, and something makes me afraid to ask.
    In the valley, there are fields of sunflowers, and Stefan tells me that his great grandfather planted them for his great grandmother. “He was a romantic man, but the oil they make is sold to supplement our income here at the vineyard. We make and sell olive oil, as well.”
    We amble past the fields, and I follow him into the stone buildings where the wine is aged. It’s cool inside compared to the heat in the fields, and enormous barrels line the walls beneath the arched ceiling.
    “As a chef, I’m sure you have a sharp palette. How much do you know about wine?”
    “I’m embarrassed to say, very little.”
    “Well, let’s remedy that.”
    He enters a back room, returns with several items—one of which is a bottle of Savano wine—and sets them on a small bar.
    I watch him open the bottle with a corkscrew.
    He handles it with care and removes the cork with a very gentle pop before he pours two glasses. “The glass that wine is served in is often overlooked, but it’s crucial. Wine glasses are crafted to enhance aromas and thus the flavor. A good wine can be ruined if poured into the wrong glass.”
    He’s my teacher, and I’m his all-too-eager student.
    “Smell this.” He holds out a small bowl, and I sniff.
    “Coffee beans?”
    “Yes! In order to savor the aroma and flavor, you must cleanse your palette. The coffee beans do that nicely. Now drink this.” He extends a small glass of cold water, and I sip. He does the same, sniffing and drinking the water, cleansing his own palette.  
    I stare at him. It’s like watching a holy ritual.
    “Now, take the glass in your hand and hold it up to the light. Admire the color. See how it’s a deep ruby in the center and lighter around the edge? When you swirl the wine, there are tendrils of liquid that stick to the side. These are called legs , and they indicate how dense and flavorful the wine will be. Now, this may feel odd, but it is crucial. Hover your nose over the glass and take a deep breath.”
    I watch him close his eyes as he does it. This is his trade and a science to him. I inhale and try to pick up nuances.
    “What do you detect?”
    I try to place the fragrance. “Cherry?”
    “Very good. What else?”
    “It has a woodsy sort of smell . . .”
    “That’s from the oak barrel. You’re doing well. Now, let’s taste.” He touches his glass to mine in a toast.
    I follow his lead, closing my eyes and sipping the liquid. I let it linger on my tongue. It feels like velvet as it drips down my throat, and I’m left with an aftertaste of flavors not unlike those I detected when I breathed it in. The scents and flavors combine, and it’s magical. Harmonious. I’ve never tasted anything quite like this.
    I open my eyes, and something happens inside me. Sharing this ritual has somehow amplified the bond I feel with him. “It’s wonderful.”
    He smiles and looks around with pride. “This