Wednesday, October 11, 2006
Romance, Venetian Style
I opened the door, smiling from ear to ear. I probably looked goofy, but I didn’t really care. He was there in my doorway, looking so good. And casual.
He was wearing jeans again. I don’t know where he gets those jeans, but hold on to your hormones because they fit him perfectly and look incredible on him. He had a royal blue sweater on, cashmere of course and it somehow intensified his brown eyes even more. Or maybe that was just the smoldering look he was aiming straight at me! His eyes sparked appreciatively as he stood there looking at me.
“Good Morning Bella,” he said to me. “You look gorgeous today!” How’s that for boosting a girl’s ego?
I could tell you that he politely hugged me, but that would be a lie; a HUGE lie. We both just seemed to melt right into each others arms like rich chocolate melts in your mouth, sweetly and smoothly. He rubbed his hands up and down my back caressingly, just stopping short of my ass, which was a shame because not only did it look good in these slacks, it was pretty shapely too; maybe a bit too curvy and shapely, but still nice.
Still holding me tightly he said, “God you smell good,” burying his nose in my neck. So did he. Whatever aftershave he had on went straight to my already weakened senses. His face was smoothly shaven; his jaw felt just the tiniest bit rough against my neck.
His hands had moved to hold me around the waist, his thumbs running up my tummy, playfully massaging little circles on it. He slid his hands up to just below my breasts, and I had a quick vision of him kissing my nipples through the stretchy lace of my bra.
I groaned quietly and he sort of chuckled, low in his throat. He turned my face up to his and I felt almost resentful to move away from the fragrant warmth of his neck, but I was rewarded by a kiss.
Slow and enticing, his mouth explored mine, weaving magic into that kiss. It left me breathless. When our mouths reluctantly pulled apart, it was like the sun had stopped shining, the warmth was gone so barren it felt.
Holding each other for another minute was heaven and I felt his hardness pressed against me, jutting along his belly. Long and hard I thought with some anticipation of when I would be able to explore his body fully.
“Hi,” he said with a laugh. “Are you ready to explore Venezia?”
I adored his accent and decided I could easily get used to it. I had to clear my throat before I could speak. This must be what people laughingly call chemistry! How had I missed it before? Okay, that isn’t really true, I had felt chemistry before, but it felt like it was the first time at that moment.
“I’m good,” I answered him, my eyes shining brightly, with desire and anticipation of the day ahead of us. “And yes, I’m ready to go. I grabbed my purse and started to leave the room.
He put out a hand on my arm to stop me briefly. “Do you have a jacket with you? It could be chilly this evening”. I grabbed a jacket, one that actually went with the tunic I had on and we left then, managing to catch the elevator as someone was getting off of it.
The train ride to Venice was quick, too quick really because I enjoyed snuggling up next to him in the car. There was only one man in the car with us, a business man working on his laptop. He paid no attention to us whatsoever, but still we didn’t say too much to one another. We were both enjoying the trip together.
The train pulled into the St. Lucia Venezia train station and we got off and walked through the station building which was full of busy travelers, hurrying to or from their trains and chattering excitedly. We left the station behind us and walked down the wide, shallow steps leading from the station to the Grand Canal.
The years rolled back and it was as if I was standing there on these steps for the first time. The view from the steps of the Grand Canal is magnificent. Spread out before you is the canal itself, wide and rather murky looking, but it is teeming with energy and life. There are vaporattos, which are the city bus system, only they are boats, as well as small and swift taxi boats. We spotted a few gondolas too, the gondoliers wearing black and white striped shirts and big black hats tied with red ribbons. People were everywhere, sitting on the steps, waiting at the docking platform for the vaporattos, walking and meeting friends and acquaintances, heading a million different places it seemed.
There is a very pungent smell to Venice. It smells similar to San Francisco I think, but many people just think it stinks. You can smell the water, the wood that is basically decaying in the water, the smells from the water vehicles, probably a few whiffs of sewage unfortunately too, but what is important to remember is that it is the odor of Venice—an ancient city built on canals that is regrettably sinking. It is vibrant, alive; a city in motion, a city plagued often by floods but that still preserves its dignity and beauty. There is no other place quite like it.
Adam reached for my hand as we navigated the steps of the station. His hand felt warm in mine, and somehow comforting and comfortable. It was a little cooler here, all the water I supposed, so I put my jacket on. I had to release Adam’s hand to do this but he quickly reclaimed it after the jacket was on.
“Which way?” he queried me, glancing up and down the canal. “Would you like to walk a bit, or take a boat ride?” He was smiling at me, looking very intently at my eyes, in a way that seemed startingly intimate. I had the thought that we was looking so deeply, he must be seeing my soul. I wasn’t sure it was up to the scrutiny.
“Um, how about taking a boat out to the Isle of Lido?” I asked. That had been one of my favorite things to do in the past. Lido was out in the bay, only a short ride away. It was a charming little island, about 11 miles long and about a mile wide. The island is a glorious riot of color in the spring, with every type of flower imaginable there. In the autumn it is more muted; the subtle colors of fall blend in with the often gold and earth-toned colored buildings. Golds, oranges, yellows and browns abound, with an occasional red peeking through in gardens and hanging off of balconies in beautiful pots.
Adam bought tickets for us on the next vaporatto, which was preparing to dock. We stepped on board and made our way to the front of the boat so we could have an unobstructed view of the canal. The boat never really picks up any speed since it is stopping every few blocks, but you can still feel the spray in your face, salty and fresh from the Adriatic Sea, especially after you get out past the point heading towards Lido.
I began to notice something—Adam attracts a lot of attention. No one approached him, but lots of people noticed him and talked amongst themselves until we got off the boat at Lido and were walking down the street there. A few people had smiled or waved, but one woman, who was American, came right up to us.
“You’re Adam Richland aren’t you?” she quizzed him. She pulled a notebook out of her bag and asked for an autograph.
I saw a different Adam then—I saw Adam the movie star emerge. His demeanor changed, even his posture. He was somehow bigger than life now, chatting amiably with the woman, asking her where she lived, her name for the autograph, little trivial things that help leave a lasting good impression. He cheerfully posed for several pictures with her and smiled and waved when she went on her way. It was amazing to watch. He seemed so relaxed, but since I have been with him when he really is relaxed, I could see a big difference. He had, I really don’t know another word to describe this—he had presence.
It was around 1:30 then and we decided we were hungry. We found a lovely little café that had tables on the sidewalk and had our lunch there. It was on the Gran Viale, the main street that runs east/west, from the dock side or lagoon to the Adriatic Sea side. The café was near the docks and we could watch the boats come and go at a lazy pace. The afternoons in Italy are reserved for reposo, which is the same as siesta in Spain. Italians, who play hard and work hard, take this time each day for a mini break to recharge them for their busy Italian evenings. So, other than tourists like us, the street was very quiet. We ate frutti di mare misto, which is grilled seafood, and a luscious creamy risotto and drank a lovely pro secco wine, a white semi-dry wine that went well with the meal. We sat contentedly for awhile, chatting about nothing in particular.
Afterwards we caught the vaporatto back to Venice and wandered the streets, holding hands and peeking into small shops, amazed at the creative and beautiful glassware that Venice is so famous for.
I loved holding hands with him; I only hoped that later there would be a chance to get a little closer still. I’m not usually the kind of woman who has casual flings; I tend to take my time at relationships. But I wasn’t fooling myself about this one—I didn’t expect it to go anywhere. He is rich and famous and lives a completely different sort of life than I do. We were spending a few magical days together and I kept telling myself to put any expectations out of my mind, just take it for what it is worth and enjoy whatever happens between us. But that said, if I’m not a casual sex kind of person, then can this possibly go any farther? To say I felt conflicted was a gross understatement!
I can feel tension building between us. When he puts his hand on the small of my back to guide me through a doorway and it sends electricity up and down my spine. Once when a leaf blew into his hair I reached up to pull it out. My fingers tangled in his hair trying to work the leaf loose and he stood there, watching me, eyes wide open and aware. Aware of... I’m just not sure yet. Aware of me, of growing desire, or what? I know that he wants me, but still, is he just looking for a quickie or more? And if he is looking for more, how on earth can that happen with us? God, this just rolls around and around in my head, and I never seem to get any kind of answer.
We were at St. Marks square at 6:00 and we listened to the bells ringing. They sounded wonderful, but loud! The square was filled with people and hundreds of pigeons, hoping for tasty snacks. We bought gelato from a street vendor, deliciously rich and creamy ice cream. I got chocolate of course and he got some kind of berry.
We were sitting on a bench eating our cones when he held his out to me and said “Would you like a taste?” He had a rather wicked gleam in his eye and just the slightest hint of a smile on his face. Really, he managed to look almost totally innocent.
I smiled back and said “Yes, I’d love to lick your cone,” in my sexiest, come hither voice. He laughed as I placed my hand over his to guide the cone closer and then slowly swirled my tongue around it.
“Mm,” I said, slowly licking a bit of ice cream from the corner of my mouth with my tongue. “Delicious.”
His eyes opened very wide in astonishment, then narrowed as desire sparked in them. “Hmm,” he sort of stammered, “I’m glad you enjoyed that!”
If you play with me Adam, you better understand that I always play to win, I thought!
We finished our gelato and continued on to our tour. I bought some postcards and gifts for family and friends back home and all too soon we were at the restaurant. I was tired by this time, so the thought of sitting down for an hour or so was very appealing!