“Those guys are so fucking hot.” She smiled as she caught herself. “Well, you’ll see. They know their wines and their store is terrific. I’m sorry I can’t make it. Will you be alright?”
Heather had said yes, rather dejectedly - she liked Cathy and had hoped the two might go do something together that evening. Instead, this last appointment and then her night would be like every other night the past week: Home to the extended stay hotel her company had booked for her while she got herself settled, some sort of take out with a movie on the pay-per-view, a shower and then FaceTime with Geoff, her fiancé.
Cathy dropped her at the corner of 17th and Wazee and she made her way to the address. So much had changed in Denver since she had moved out to San Francisco for college that she hardly recognized the place. She made use of the landmarks that were still standing to navigate. Union Station was there, though it was being transformed into a 21st Century transit hub for the metroplex. There was the Oxford Hotel and a little further down the block was the Tattered Cover.
Heather walked with a confidence that belied her lack of assurance. It was evident in her appearance - blonde hair that fell in waves over her shoulders and laughing blue eyes. She was of smaller stature, 5’6”, a little more with the heels, and a body that would have been perfectly proportioned but for her outsize breasts.
Heather had left her new fiancé behind. The new job offered more money but meant that if their relationship was to survive, one of them was going to have to sacrifice. For her own career (at least for her current career) that meant moving back to Denver. Whether Geoff would move with her was another question.
Everything downtown was the same but different. Heather finally found the shop, down an alley behind the Tattered Cover and walked in, her little roll-behind trailing behind her.
“May we help you?” the man behind the counter asked. He stood at just under six feet tall and was cut, his sharp jawline obscured by day old growth, his intense blue eyes seeming to sear into her. To describe him would be to describe one of the Norse heroes, Gods even, his appearance and his presence were so captivating.
“Hello,” another man said as he popped up from behind one of the shelves. He smiled softly but in every other way was identical to the man behind the counter.
“Holy shit,” Heather thought to herself, remembering what Cathy had said in the car. Or perhaps she said it. “Hi. I’m Heather. I’m with Bacchus Imports. I have a couple things I thought you might enjoy.” Had she caught herself in time? Even if she hadn’t, they were courteous.
“I’m Ivan,” said the man behind the counter.
“I’m Sven.” The man behind the shelf waved.
“We’ve been expecting you,” they said in unison.
They brought out glasses for all of them and made her feel welcome and at home. They exchanged more courtesies as they tasted wine. The Zwilling brothers had come from Denmark, selling the fishing boats they’d inherited from their father to make a go of things on their own in the States. They had met a wine importer who thought things were really heating up in Colorado and had opened a wine shop in LoDo.
Heather in turn told them her own story, which she thought boring by this point, though the brothers seemed very interested.
“Since you’re alone in the city,” Ivan asked when they had tasted everything she had brought at least twice, “would you like to join us for dinner?”
“Oh yes, you should,” Sven chirped. “Ivan is making fondue tonight. Ivan Zwilling’s fondue is legendary.” He laughed.
Heather could hardly pass up such charming company and agreed.
The Zwilling brothers closed up shop at 7:00 and led Heather across the bridge to their loft, an enormous affair with 360 degree views. It was a proper loft, a converted industrial warehouse that had somehow survived successive waves of gentrification. The furnishings were Scandinavian contemporary clean but somehow cozy.
Heather felt quite at home in front of the gas fireplace, enjoying her wine and chatting with Sven while Ivan prepared dinner out in the kitchen.
Ivan brought the pot of boiling cheese and set it at the center of the coffee table with the sliced apples and bread that were there, accompanied by a bottle of Austrian Marillen schnapps. Sven poured the brandy out while Ivan sat down.
They ate heartily. Ivan returned to the kitchen to cut some more bread and apples, leaving Heather alone with Sven again.
“You have a bit of cheese,” Sven pointed, “just there.”
Heather made to wipe it off, brushing her hand against the wrong side.
“No, that’s not it, would you like me to help?” He did not wait for an answer but leaned forward and gently sucked the morsel from her chin.
Heather was not sure how she should react and blushed a little at her indecision whether to be pleased with his attentions or put off.
“That looks nice,” Ivan said, rejoining them on the floor. “May I try?”
“Guys!” Heather protested.
“Just some harmless fun,” Ivan said, taking a sip of his wine. He peered deep into her eyes as he did so. He put the glass down and moved closer, not breaking his gaze. “But really, I must ask you something.”
“Sure,” Heather tried to sound friendly and confident, but knew that her response had been timid.
“You’re so beautiful, but you keep hiding yourself.”
“Ivan, a bit personal, don’t you think?” Sven protested
“What do you mean?” Heather said, taking a sip of her wine to steady herself.
“Nothing,” Ivan said, taking another sip of his wine and moving away. “Sven’s quite right. It’s too personal. We don’t know each other that well."
“It’s this thing he does,” Sven added. “He’s really good at reading people and he frequently calls them out on it.”
“Now I’m really curious.” Heather laughed nervously. She wasn’t sure if she should press the matter. The sexual tension between all of them had been incredibly intense just a matter of minutes ago before it had been dispelled by Ivan’s remark. The thought passed through her head that the tension had not been unpleasant. She had felt her body stir when Sven had licked her cheek and quicken further when Ivan had suggested he should do the same. A quiver of anticipation passing through her body, hardening her nipples and dampening her panties as it went.
“Forget about it,” Ivan turned away. He picked up his fork and stabbed at a piece of apple, dipping it into the cheese.
“No really,” Heather heard herself say. She gathered up the courage and smiled. “I want to know.”
“It’s just,” Ivan swallowed the morsel and his ice blue eyes locked on hers. “You’re so beautiful and yet you hide yourself.”
“What do you mean?” She sat up straight and took a sip of wine.
“See?” Ivan nearly shouted as he pointed at her. “There! That’s it! That’s how you should be sitting. Fully aware and confident. Beautiful! Cheers!”
The three clinked glasses. Heather slumped.
“Alright, I don’t get it,” she said.
“You’re doing it again,” Ivan noticed.
“Doing what?” she asked, confused.
“Hiding yourself.”
Heather looked down at herself. “What do you mean?”
“Every time you’re not sure about a situation,” Ivan smiled, “you find something to hide behind. I noticed it at the shop.”
“Ivan...” Sven interrupted.
“I don’t mind.” Heather smiled, though she was slightly uncomfortable again.
“Do you mind if I ask you a question?” Ivan said.
“I don’t think so. I mean no,” she said, sitting up again and refilling her glass. “Go right ahead.”
“Why do you hide yourself?”
“I’m still not sure what you mean.”
“When you are confident, you sit like this,” he demonstrated, sitting upright with proper posture. “And yet, when you become unsure, you sit like this,” he leaned over the table and looked away from her. “I think it is an old habit.”
“Ivan,” Sven protested again. “If it’s an old habit, perhaps discussing it embarrasses her.” He turned to Heather. “Please forgive him.” He smiled with a twinkle in his eyes.
Heather was silent for a moment. While her physical arousal might have been stultified, her intellectual arousal certainly hadn’t. This was a game she could play.
“Perhaps,” she said, smiling at her host, “Ivan, you would be so kind as to open another bottle of wine.” She held up her empty glass. “And then I should very much like to hear your theory as to why I, as you say, ‘hide myself.’”
“With great pleasure,” Ivan said, getting up with a grace that seemed impossible with his size.
She watched him leave the room and felt Sven’s eyes on her. She stabbed at a piece of bread and went to dip it in the cheese. She leaned forward. “All gone,” she said.
“Just the nun,” Sven said and he put the cover over the flame. “Would you like some help?”
“Mmm,” she said as he leaned closer to her. She could smell the wool of his sweater and felt herself becoming aroused again.
Sven scraped at the bottom of the pot, loosening the cheese that had burned to it. He gathered some up on a piece of bread and offered it to her. She opened her mouth and he slipped it in gently. Her eyes were locked on his as she chewed slowly and swallowed.
“You have a little on your lips,” he said. “May I?”
“Oh no you don’t, brother!” Ivan said, leaning between them. “It’s my turn!”
Before Heather could protest, Ivan lifted her face to hers and smiled and then gently ran his tongue over her lips, licking the crumbs of bread and cheese from them. He pulled away, her eyes still locked on his, her longing palpable.
She was dying for him to kiss her. She was dying for either one of them to kiss her. Both of them?
She tried to regain her composure. “Did you bring the wine?”
“Of course,” Ivan said, smiling. He lifted the bottle and poured some for all of them, joining them again on the floor.
“You were going to tell me your theories on why I...” She paused. “How did you put it?”
“Hide yourself.” Ivan smiled.
“Okay, what’s your theory?” she said, leaning back against Sven. “I’m all ears.”
“Me too,” Sven smiled.
She looked over her shoulder at him. She could have kissed him. She turned instead back to Ivan, satisfying herself with her back against Sven’s muscular form, the warmth of his body through his sweater and her own.
“I think,” Ivan said.
