One Night In Amsterdam (6 page)

“Alright, let’s see if you are as good as you think,” I put out my right hand for him to shake. He took my hand slowly and squeezed it gently, but instead of releasing it, he subtly grazed his thumb over the back of my hand. His touch sent shivers down my spine again.

“Let’s start with this one.” I pointed at a painting, picturing four kids around a table: A girl with a flute, a boy holding a dancing cat, another boy holding its tail and the last boy looked like he was holding a spoon.

“You started with an easy one Emma. It is the Dancing Lesson by Steen. Steen is one of the highlighted artists in Rijksmuseum.”

“I didn’t know that. Hmm… Let’s move towards the far corner then. I will try to pick a harder one.” I heaved a sigh checking out the paintings around me.  They were all very impressive. It was hard for me to pick one. After looking around for several minutes, I stopped by the painting of a beautiful lady with an exotic, broad-brimmed sun hat and suggestively exposed shoulder, carrying a basket full of fruits. I covered the tag with my hand and arched my brows. “This one!” I said.

“Most portraits are difficult to identify, since there are so many of them over different eras. However this one is very significant due to her very exposed shoulder, an erotic message to the viewers. It is Van Everdingen.”

“You are really good!” I giggled, utterly surprised. “I better pick the last one carefully.”

I walked back and forth in the long corridor and stopped in front of a painting of a swan. It struck me right away. White swan painted in fine details looked scared or rather threatened.  It was protecting its nest and eggs from a dog. “How about this one?” I asked.

“Oh… this is a very famous painting as well.” Dylan said while studying the painting. “It was interpreted as a political allegory: the white swan was thought to symbolize the Dutch statesman protecting the country from its enemies.” He explained. “But I think I forgot the name of the painter.”

“Really…” My heart sunk suddenly. I hoped he didn’t notice the chagrin in my voice. God, I truly wanted him to win the bet. “Think carefully, Dylan. You might become my slave for the rest of the day.” I mumbled, trying to hide my nervousness.

“Hmm, let me concentrate. I think it’s either Pieter Gijsels… or Jan Asseljin.”

“Jan Asseljin ….” I exclaimed happily, hearing the correct name on his second guess. “Looks like you won!”

“Well, my price was very worthy, so I had to win.” He watched me carefully as I straightened my dress, tucked a stray strand of hair under my silk foulard.

“I guess we will be together for the rest of the day.”

“You are forgetting the second part of the wager,” he squinted and knitted his brows, insinuating the kiss.

I pecked a small chaste kiss on his cheek and lower my head shyly. He tilted my head up with his finger and gazed intently into my eyes. I could see the yellow hue dusted in the blue madness of his eyes.  “That doesn’t count,” he objected immediately. “I will collect my wager properly when the time comes...” He winked. “But, come now. We have only fifteen minutes left. You should see ‘The Milkmaid’ and ‘The Night Watch’. He pulled my hand, and I found myself in front of a colossal canvas, one of the most famous paintings in the world.

“There are a couple of reasons why this painting is very famous,” he started explaining. “Firstly, obviously its size! Mona Lisa looks like a stamp next to this. Secondly, Rembrandt’s effective use of light and shadow is very impressive, and thirdly, the perception of motion in the painting. You see these men…” He pointed to the men in front. “The way he painted, it carries the illusion of motion.”

“It’s definitely impressive. Why is it called ‘The Night Watch’?” I asked.

“Good question,” he said softly. “The painting used to be coated with a dark varnish giving the incorrect impression of a night scene.” He explained and continued to impress me more with his vast knowledge as I stood speechless in front of Rembrandt’s renowned masterpiece. “Popular interpretations suggest that there are several layers of meanings and many symbolisms in this extraordinary painting. It is a glowing symbol of democracy first of all, also it symbolizes Dutch as a united nation…”

I was trying to understand the symbolism in the painting and admiring the fine details of the girl in the yellow dress when finally the museum attendant told the crowd that it was time to leave. People slowly dwindled away, and we were the last ones to exit.

“Thank you Dylan. I enjoyed it a lot, more than you could imagine,” I confessed.  “So, what should we do next?” I asked when we were out the door, standing by the canal in the back of the museum.

“I have an idea!” He said with a huge grin, and pleading eyes.

“Okay, let’s hear it. Since you are in charge for the rest of the day, I am anxious to hear your plan.”

“I think no visit to Amsterdam would be complete without seeing a real windmill. I was thinking, maybe we could go check one out.”

“It is a marvelous idea,” I exclaimed joyfully. I wondered how being around Dylan made me this completely different person. I didn’t do anything instantaneous. I planned my days, weeks, or months. I even had a five year plan. However, with Dylan, I was living in complete ‘carpe diem’ mode. He made me feel alive again.

“Are you sure there are still windmills in the city?” I asked. “I thought they were long gone. Destroyed or removed.”

“There are a few around town actually.  One of them is even open to the public.  I called them when you were getting us something to drink and asked if they could stay open late for us.”

“So, how do we get there?”

“I was thinking about renting a bike,” he paused and his gaze dropped to my lips while he brushed my cheek softly with his knuckle.  I thought he was going to kiss me at that instant. And I wanted him to kiss me, but instead, he swirled a strand of my hair around his finger and tucked behind my ear.

We walked to the bike shop across the canal. After a quick negotiation, Dylan came back with a red tandem bike and asked. “What do you think?”

“A tandem bike?”

“Yeah, why not?”

“Well, you are much taller than me, how are we going to manage?”

“Don’t worry, we’ll do fine!”

“If you say so... I have the map.”

“Ok, then, let’s ride.” He uttered happily.

Dylan sat in the front seat and set our tempo. He carefully matched his long strong strides to my weak ones. Somehow, we managed to ride in complete unison. Every now and then he turned his head back to look at me, and each time my heart melted with the sight of his beguiling smile. Dylan riding in front of me was a beautiful but torturous sight. His attractive body was such a distraction that I couldn’t pay attention to the alluring scenery we were passing by. With each breeze, I inhaled his intoxicating smell. His taut muscles and broad shoulders were in front of me, within my reach, but I didn’t dare to touch. I couldn’t.  My attraction towards him was too dangerous. I felt like a little rowboat in treacherous waters.

In half an hour, we arrived at the tall stone mill. We parked our bike by the green building and went inside. We were greeted by the volunteers and the miller, working extra hours because of us.  They looked like they didn’t mind; they were very kind and friendly. I suspected Dylan paid them a handsome amount surreptitiously.

On our private tour by the miller, we got to see how the mill cap turned and how the vanes faced the wind. We saw the vanes rotating and stopping by adjusting the sails.  Being inside a working windmill was a unique experience. It was amazing to see the power of the wind and how people used that power to pump and drain water or mill grains for centuries.

“I would have enjoyed living in medieval Holland.” I said after leaving the mill. We stood by a tall willow tree in the green pasture.

“Why is that?” Dylan asked. He rested his shoulders on the tree, and then cast a side long glance at me.

“Because life was simpler back then. It’s great to have all this technology which is supposed to make our lives easier, but it doesn’t.  We are wired non-stop. I think we have technology overload.”

“And you don’t like that?” He said with questioning eyes. His fingers circled the back of my hand softly.

“No, I don’t.  It’s too much. People are so attached to their electronic devices that they can’t go anywhere without them.  It seems like people share their experiences all the time in social media, but many miss enjoying the moment while they are too busy sharing it with the rest of the world.”

“I am not so crazy about social media either.”

“I am not against it, but I think people exaggerate everything. Many use social media as a way to brag about themselves or their lives. It portrays a pink clouded image of life which is not true.  I think technology has become our enemy because we don’t use it properly. I don’t know. Maybe I’m not making any sense… ”

“No, you totally make sense.”

“I hope I am not boring you, Dylan. Maybe I am just a dreary girl, full of oppressive reality like Sydney said. Maybe I should have had the real shots and eased up a little bit.”

“No, not at all. I think you are perfect…”

I took a deep breath and rested my head on his shoulder. “You know what Dylan!  I think today is perfect.
”

“Yes, it is… and I don’t want it to end,” Dylan whispered in my ear.

“Me, too. You, me, us! I don’t know exactly what this is, but it reminds me…” I paused to look into his sky blue eyes. “It reminds me the movie ‘Before Sunset’. Have you seen it?”

He wrapped his arms around my waist, his palms resting on the small of my back. “No, I haven’t”, he uttered softly. His eyes darted up to meet mine.  They were fathomless blue, edged in a deeper hue. I felt I could lose myself in their depth.

“It’s about Jesse and Celiné,” I started telling slowly.  “They meet on a train in Europe and start talking about random things. Soon they realize they enjoy each other’s company. Jesse convinces Celiné to get off the train with him in Vienna. They spend a wonderful romantic evening together. They both know that they have this one magical night, and next day they need to return to their lives. When the night is over, they depart at the train station. Jesse goes back to America and Celiné takes the train to Paris.”

“Why would Jesse want it to be one night? I think he would want Celiné to stay with him or go to America together.”

“Well, that’s not how the story ends…”

“But, why?”

“Maybe it is magical and wonderful because they know that it is just for one night. They decide to see each other at the same place, same time, following year.”

“I don’t think Jesse would like waiting that long to see her again.”

“But he must!”

“So, does Jesse fall for Celiné?”

“Yes, I think he does.”

“How about Celiné?” He asked again, his gaze hinted a different meaning. It was obvious that we were not talking about the movie any more.

“I think she does too…”

“But they still part their ways…”

I nodded slightly. Solemn expression in his eyes told me that he wasn’t happy with my answer. He looked at me for a long minute without uttering a word, and then he finally said, “I don’t like the ending. I think it should be rewritten.” He tightened his grasp. I leaned on his chest; now completely buried in his strong body. I felt the ripples of his stomach muscles against my skin. He rested his chin on my head and inhaled deeply.

“God, you are so beautiful and smell like heaven.” He whispered in my ear, his lips almost touching my neck.

Then, suddenly, gazing intently into my eyes, he brought his hands up to cup my face, and caressed my cheeks with his soft fingers. With his thumb, he traced the contour of my lips. His face just an inch away, I was able to feel the heat radiating from his skin. In exquisite anticipation, as he slowly lowered his face to mine, I closed my eyes and parted my lips. After what felt like an eternity, he brushed his perfect lips to edge of my mouth. My heart started to flutter when they pressed firmly on mine. His kiss was slow and tender at first, but then, I felt an unstoppable desire building up as his mouth covered mine passionately. When his tongue slowly entered and explored my mouth, my body was about to collapse in utter pleasure.  If he wasn’t holding me tightly, my legs would have given up, my knees would have buckled. I reached for his shoulders and dug my nails into his skin to keep myself steady. Completely overrun with sensation, I pulled him to myself hard and sucked his lips. My tongue eagerly searched for his, and when they met, they entwined with each other. He tasted sweet like a combination of mint and chocolate. My hands grazed over his sinewy arms and his big, strong body tensed under my touch.  My breathing deepened as he softly moaned my name “Emma” into my mouth. His voice was suddenly husky. His lips lingered on my mouth a few more seconds, before he broke the connection and looked at me in utter bewilderment.

“Oh, Fuck! Emma!” He cried. “What the hell was that?” He was still panting.

CHAPTER 5

DYLAN

I had thought about kissing Emma since the moment I saw her sitting in front of the church and staring at me. Her plump, red lips were so tempting that when she rested her head on my chest, my lips found hers almost instinctively.  It was supposed to be a soft, tender kiss. However, when she responded to me with an equal amount of passion, it took all the power in me to stop. I was so lost in the temptation that I was about to peel her dress away from her silky white skin, trail kisses down to her neck and explore every inch of her delicate body with my mouth on the spot. I wanted her so God damned bad that it hurt. Just thinking about her, imagining her soft skin under my body was giving me a hard on. God… I needed to find a way to stop this madness … this strong desire for someone I just met. It was all new to me. A moment of passion unlike anything I had experienced before, and I was sure that she felt it too. To kiss like that, she must be attracted to me as much as I was attracted to her.