Chapter 1

1st Act.

I still have the last notes of the prologue in my head. The first act starts in a blur. We are watching now Floria Tosca in a passionate discussion with Cavaradossi in the church.

Puccini’s music always makes the same impact on me.

I have been exposed to these notes a zillion of times, and I cannot resist it. I am trapped.

I stand in the corner of the gallery, one of my favorite places. It is one of the few places where standing people have a full picture of the interaction between characters.

On my right side, a young woman moves closer to me. She tries to have a better picture as she cannot see the right side of the stage. I barely see her silhouette. She is quite shorter than me, a petite frame. I make some space and indicate with a gest to come where I was myself. I will stand behind her. It is not easy to communicate without making noise disturbing the other people around us. I cannot tell whether she did not understand my gesture or if she is just shy and reserved. She gets closer yet leaves some space between us. In moving 20 or 25cm further, she still would not disturb me or anybody else, and she would also see the action in a much better way.

Without even thinking about it, I move my hand and place it in the small of her back. With a light pressure, I push her to come closer. A gentle yet firm move.

I sense the tension at the very moment where I place my hand on her clothes. Something like a reflex reaction. She is caught by surprise. I do not want to pressure her for anything, but she cannot know my intentions. She stands now close to me and I can feel her chills from time to time. I guess that she never expected that someone would not preserve the safety distance expected between two persons who do not know each other at all.

I sense the tension.

After positioning her in front of me, my hand slipped on her hip. I realize that I left it there for more than thirty minutes.

She is still watching the stage and the action.

Tosca has left now, and the former consul Angelotti is now learning where to hide in Cavaradossi’s house.

I don’t even know myself how to explain my attitude. I never had any purpose in mind. It is just that there is not much space around us, and that I have to rest my hand somewhere. I initially wanted to indicate that she was authorized to get closer to me. No second thought.

She stands still.

My hand is still on her hip. I sense that she starts to relax.

I never intended to stop focusing on the play but I start now to discern her silhouette, to smell her hair, to guess how she is dressed, or to watch the allure of her back. She has now most probably guessed that I don’t have anything special in mind.

The sound of the cannon signals that Angelotti’s escape has been discovered. The stage prepares for the finale of the first act and the Te Deum, while the tyran Scarpia sets his trap. Our respective positions do not make it easy to move in any way, but we are both surprised and none of us moves any millimeter.

The action is now drawing near the end of the first act.

The music suddenly jumps into louder tones for the Te Deum. The procession arrives. We are both surprised and we react in the same second. My hand moves on her hip and goes down where it should rather be described as a part of the ass cheek. We were already close to each other before this movement but only my hand touched her. Our bodies are now glued to each other. Her back rests on my chest. My right leg touches the back of her legs. I can feel that she wears something like a wrap-around skirt, probably a kilt. This has come into fashion again. I feel the flat folds under my fingers, but I keep them still where they are. No movement. I don’t want to kill the magic of the moment.

At the very second where I hear the last note of the first act, she jumps out of my embrace and grabs her handbag on the floor. She flows away in the dark. The curtain has not yet fallen on the stage that I see the lights of the outside corridor. In the shadow, the door closes on her.