Chapter 1
CHAPTER ONE
PRESENT DAY
M y legs straddled Zack’s naked body. He was handcuffed to my bed, totally at my mercy. I was in absolute control of this man. My man. He was finally mine. The cuffs dug in to his wrists as he struggled between pain and pleasure.
“ Do you want me to stop? ” I asked over his cries of passion as I kissed his chest, working my way down his torso. His body was trembling beneath mine as the excitement built.
“ No, ” Zack cried out. “ Oh, Jenny, no, keep doing that. ”
As I finally gave in to his body’s demands, I climbed back on top of him and we began to move together, quickly. The headboard banged against the wall, making the bed vibrate beneath us. We both moaned as things began to feel good.
“ Jenny… ” he called out, loudly.
“ Yeah, ” I said, feeling my orgasm about to rip through me as he said my name. “ Oh, yeah. ”
The room seemed to shake as the bed bounced harder and harder.
“ Jenny! ” He said it louder, but firmer. Not like someone who was enjoying themselves.
“ Yeah? ” I asked.
“ Jenny! ” he shouted, with a more feminine voice…
“Jenny!?” Sarah’s voice bellowed at me as I finally opened my eyes. “For God’s sake, will you wake up from your bloody sex dreams? The plane has landed.”
Flushed, I surveyed my surroundings, aware that everyone around me would have heard my nocturnal rendezvous with my absent boyfriend. Other passengers had begun to crowd the aisles of the narrow plane. The ones who weren’t staring at me, giggling at Sarah’s wake-up call, were getting their coats and bags from the overhead storage as the stewardesses looked on in frustration. People were always in a rush to grab their things once the plane landed, but I never could understand why. It’s not like our luggage is ever waiting for us as soon as we exit. I could guarantee it would be another hour before we would leave the airport.
“How long was I snoozing?” I asked Sarah, rubbing my eyes and hoping I wasn’t making too many sexual noises in my sleep.
“I’m not sure. A while. How can you even sleep on a plane? It’s so uncomfortable.” She rubbed her neck. “And how on earth did you manage to sleep through a plane landing? Couldn’t you feel us being thrown about? It was quite rough.”
I laughed to myself. “I guess I’m just naturally gifted at being able to sleep anywhere.” I stretched out my arms, and my elbows clicked. I didn’t want to tell her I was exhausted because Zack and I had been up all the night before having wild sex to prepare for not seeing each other for the next few days. We had not been apart for this long in the nine months we’d been together. “I can’t wait to get up and stretch my legs. Three hours is a long time to sit still. I’m bursting for a wee.”
“You could have just used the airplane loos, you know. You didn’t need to hold it in all this time.”
“I don’t use airplane loos,” I said, thinking back to the first time I had attempted it. We were on our shameful flight home from Zante where the previous night’s alcohol intake came back with a vengeance and I was violently vomiting my insides into the plane toilets. Sarah thought I was insane when I told her I was sure I could feel air blowing on my face from the loo itself. I got paranoid I was going to get sucked out. After that, a fear of aeroplane facilities took over and I have never dared to use them again. Long haul flights were out of the question.
“Look, you’re thirty-one now. I think it’s perfectly acceptable to put irrational fears to one side, and have a bloody wee on a plane.”
“And get sucked out through the plumbing when I flush it? No thanks.”
“Shut up.” I nudged her with my shoulder as she laughed. It was great hearing her laugh. It had been a rough time for her, and this holiday would be the distraction she needed.
We were eventually let off the plane. We followed the crowd through the airport via the hour-long queues at passport control, a quick visit to the toilets, and then finally to find our luggage, which was already spinning on the carousel when we arrived.
“Oh, mine, mine, sorry, excuse me.” Sarah politely pushed past an older couple to grab her bag, which was making its way around to the other side, grabbing it just in time. Mine wasn’t too far behind.
“Well, that went smoothly,” she observed as we wheeled our cases to the exit.
“A sign of good times ahead,” I promised as we stepped out into the Italian air. The sun was shining down, and the sky was a clear sea of blue. “I don’t think it’s too far from here into Rome itself. Do you want to attempt the train or get a taxi?”
“Let’s get a taxi,” Sarah said. “It’ll be easier, and we can figure out the public transport system later.”
We made our way over to the first taxi that was waiting in the rank. I showed the driver the slip of paper with our hotel details on.
“Can you take us there, please?”
“ Prego, prego! ” he said, helping to put our luggage into the boot of the car, and gesturing for us to take our seats.
“What did he call you?” Sarah laughed as we climbed into the back seats together, and it wasn’t long until we were on our way.
If it were possible to eat a smell, then I would have been munching on the air. As we drove through the roads of Rome with the windows down, one nostril was overdosing on freshly ground coffee and the other was having a foodgasm from freshly cooked pizza dough. I had officially reached food heaven.
Sarah and I arrived at our hotel after a somewhat terrifying taxi ride from the airport. We should have just taken the train like every other tourist who values their life. I’m surprised the doors didn’t fall off their hinges as we hit a cobbled street, and the driver definitely overcharged us.
Despite the cost of the taxi, there were to be no expenses spared on this holiday. Seeing as this June weekend should have been Sarah’s wedding to Max The Wanker, we decided to splash out over the next few days so the month of June will never need to be as tainted by heartbreaking memories. We had a full plan for this break. Sarah would have a wonderful time, even if it killed me. Judging from previous holiday experiences with Sarah, I’m not exaggerating.
We were staying at a small, family-run hotel at the edge of the centre of Rome. The elderly owner Leonardo was approximately four feet tall, and the cutest little Italian man I had ever met. He had a permanent smile on his olive-skinned face, with a bushy moustache that circled around his mouth. His shiny, bald head reflected the sun, and it did not seem to matter how hot it was, he wore a clean white shirt buttoned to the top, and a silver tie pinned to his shirt. His wife Maria was just as tiny as her husband, but as terrifying as a tiger that hadn’t eaten for days. She was like a yappy Yorkshire terrier snapping at your feet. A floral scarf was hiding her hair and she wore a matching apron, making her look like the Italian equivalent of Nora Batty. She handed us biscotti as we arrived, which we felt obliged to eat in front of her, fearing we would be scolded if we refused.
“Mmmm,” I said, as I tried to crunch down on the hard biscuit without breaking my teeth, “delicious.” I wondered if my travel insurance would cover dental emergencies.
“ Si, delizioso! ” she barked, before muttering something in Italian to her husband and walking heavy-footed through another door. We all jumped as we heard the biscotti tray being banged down on a worktop.
“My wife, ah,” Leonardo began. I loved his accent. “She will bring coffee to your room, so you can settle.” He smiled, as though he was the most content man on earth.
“Oh, that sounds great,” Sarah said, “but we really want to go straight back out to explore.”
“Yeah, it’s still only early, so we thought we’d go for a wander before dinner.”
“Ah, wonder?” He looked confused.
“A wander, you know, like a walk around, to see what is nearby.”
“Ah, okay, si, si. Here, your key.” He handed us an old, rustic key with a tag showing the number ‘4’, dangling on a very fragile piece of string. “Up a-the stair, left,” he gestured, “your room at end of corridor.”
“Thank you!” We both smiled, but Leonardo looked worried.
“I ah, I go tell Maria we no need coffee.”
He anxiously shuffled down to the door Maria went through, and I suddenly felt very guilty.
“Do you think she’ll go mad?” I asked Sarah. “I feel awful.”
“If he’s made it to a hundred years old and she’s not killed him yet then I think he’ll be okay. Come on, let’s get these bags away so we can go back out into the sun.”
Sarah and I grabbed our things and headed up the stairs, following Leonardo’s directions. The carpet looked as old as Leonardo and his wife, the walls looked aged and the ceiling paint was peeling off, but somehow it did not matter. It looked chic, as though it was intentionally decorated that way. Unlike the peeling paint and damp stains in my own bathroom back at home that I keep putting off fixing. DIY is not my forte, as Zack is quickly learning.
We unlocked our door and walked into our room, which would be our home for the next few nights. We were not disappointed. The air conditioning in particular was a welcome treat. The floor tiles were a deep orange colour, very Mediterranean. There were two single beds covered in clean white bedding, with mustard-yellow cushions and throws, and the curtains hanging in the windows matched it all nicely. It all looked quite modern, which was a surprise. Even the bible by the side of each bed looked like a new edition.
The tall window turned out to be a glass door leading to a small balcony, just big enough for a small round table and two chairs. It would be a squeeze to get us both out there without fear of being pushed over the railings, but I’m sure we would manage… whilst sober.
In the corner of the room was a two-seater sofa with a black metal coffee table in front of it. On top of the table was a plate with yet more biscotti, and a small laminated note was propped up against an ice bucket, which was chilling a bottle of prosecco.
Sarah picked up the note, and read it out in her best attempt at an Italian accent.
“Welcome dear guests to La Casa di Angelo.
We hope you enjoy your stay with us, and your time in Rome.
Breakfast will be brought to your room at 7.30am, which can be eaten on balcony.
Ask for Leonardo if have any problem.
Grazie.”
“Perfecto.” Sarah smiled, resuming her normal Yorkshire accent. “Breakfast in bed.” She put the note back on the table, opened the door to the balcony, and stepped out.
“I’m just going to use the loo,” I lied. “I’ll be back in a tick.”
I had switched my phone on at the airport, but it had not connected to the local network while we were there. I had promised Sarah a phone-free holiday, but I had to check on both of my boys.
There was a WhatsApp message waiting for me with a photo of my two favourite men. The one that cuddles me at night, keeps me warm and makes me feel needed. And the other, the boyfriend of mine that I just can’t get enough of. Okay, yes, he cuddles me at night too, but on the rare nights we are not together, I have Bing to keep me company.
Hope you’ve arrived, baby, we miss you already xxxx
In the photo, Zack and Bing were lying on my couch. Bing was asleep on Zack’s bare chest. Oh, what I wouldn’t give to be there right now. I can’t believe that I am jealous of my cat. My dream from my aeroplane nap has left me very, very horny. I hope Sarah doesn’t catch me dry-humping my pillow in my sleep. I fired off a quick reply.
We’re here! It’s so hot!! Gorgeous, though. Can’t wait for pizza. I’ll try not to come back the size of a whale: PS. Love you Xxxx
Knock knock .
“Have you fallen asleep in there?” Sarah called from the other side of the door. “Let me in, I need a wee.”
I opened the door, and she saw the phone in my hand.
“You don’t need to hide your phone, you spoon. You’re allowed to communicate with your boyfriend.”
She sat on the toilet and I admired the bathroom, running my hand along the bath.
“It’s all marble,” I observed. “Marble floor, tiles, bath, sink, everything.”
“I know, it’s gorgeous. Nice and cool in here, too.”
It was. The air conditioning seemed to have been working very nicely. I walked out of the bathroom, past the beds and out to the balcony, where the heat hit me. Our room faced another building, so there was not much of a view. It was a very narrow street, so there was no breeze coming in through the door either, making it very humid.
In hot, humid weather, there are two types of girls. There are the girls who can wear their long hair free-flowing and held back out of their eyes with their sunglasses on top of their head. They can also have a full face of make-up, without the risk of a sweaty upper lip and panda eyes from mascara melt. Hot, sunny weather suits them. Sarah falls into this category. And then there are the other girls. The ones whose hair sticks to their sun-creamed shoulders so it needs to be tied back in a boring, unflattering ponytail. They can’t wear foundation, as the sweat causes it to streak down their faces. Any attempt at eyeliner, and they look like Uncle Fester from the Addams Family. Their upper lips sweat profusely, and they can’t walk around in skirts because their legs chafe. Unfortunately for me, I fall into this category of women. I was made for cold winters, snuggled in fluffy blankets and slipper socks.
“That’s better.” Sarah squeezed next to me on the balcony. “Where shall we go first? Shall we just go for a walk and then find somewhere to eat? I know you’re dying for an authentic pizza cooked by actual Italians, and not from the frozen food section at Tesco.”
“I’m in Italy, this is my dream come true!” I said, fanning myself with a tissue I found in my pocket. “Pizza is top of my list of things to do. Sightseeing comes later. Pizza over Pisa.”
“Okay, let’s freshen up and head out before Maria brings us more biscotti.”
Back inside, I dug my little bag out of my suitcase and transferred over some necessities for walking around in a hot, foreign country. My little handheld fan would be coming everywhere with me, I do love a fan. I made sure to have a few euros too, just in case some places didn’t accept card payment. You never know. Once we were ready, we headed out of the room and downstairs. There was a lot of banging and raised voices in the background. We could make out Maria shouting. Poor Leonardo. Perhaps I could sneak him into my suitcase to bring home with me.
We stepped out of the door, through what felt like a heat curtain, and out onto the cobbled street. Maria’s rage could no longer be heard.
“So,” Sarah said. “Where shall we go first?”
She had downloaded an app, which was full of tourist information, locations and things to do locally. It linked with Google Maps so we could pinpoint our exact location and work out where we were heading. Her sunglasses were on top of her head, holding her glossy blonde hair back as she focused on the map. Not an ounce of sweat or glimpse of red on her face. Lucky sod.
“Wherever you like. It’s only four o’clock so not time to eat yet.”
I was hoping she would suggest going for gelato or a coffee, and sitting outside a coffee shop. Something nice, easy, relaxed and in the shade. There was plenty of time to do tourist stuff, but for today it would be nice to stay near the hotel and get used to the heat.
“Ooh! Let’s walk to the Colosseum! It’s only a mile away!”
A mile, in this heat? I will have burned off my pizza before I’ve even eaten it if we walk over there. I hope I don’t get grumpy. Heat and hunger can be a dangerous combination.
“Let’s do it.” I smiled, determined to make it an amazing holiday for her.
Luckily, being from Yorkshire, we were used to cobbled roads trying to trip us up. I had no idea where we were going, but I trusted Sarah’s navigational skills, even if we were in a foreign country and relying solely on an app. Not quite like the Ancient Romans did.
“Have you seen this?” she asked. “Look at the walls.”
They were centuries old and looked like a strong gust of wind could blow them down, however, they had managed to survive this long. Maybe the Romans could consider invading England again and fixing our roads and walls. I’m sure no one would complain.
“Yeah, very old.” I was not sure how one was supposed to compliment a wall. “Very… bricky?” Although these weren’t bricks. They were made from stone. I have no idea how to entertain my history-loving friend.
“No, look!” This time she pointed. Carved into the wall was a cross. A crucifix. It was very worn, hard to see, but clear enough to make out once you’d spotted it. “I wonder if there is an old church nearby that we could look at.”
“It’s a very religious city. I’ll bet there are more churches than coffee shops.”
The sun was hitting my shoulders now, and I was beginning to feel the burn, even through my factor thirty suncream.
We knew we were heading to the centre of Rome, as the further we walked, the busier the streets became. Suddenly, we were walking amongst a crowd of people, which felt quite overwhelming. Sarah walked ahead, with her hand behind her back for me to hold, so we wouldn’t lose each other. We had been warned by friends to keep our bags close to us and away from pickpockets, which were apparently rife in the city.
We decided to take a right down a quiet and narrow lane for a bit of breathing space. There was a tall building to one side of us, which had small shops on the ground floor and what must have been four floors of apartments above it, with shutters on all the windows. I was not sure what the old building on the other side was, though. Sarah had put her phone away now, for fear of it being snatched, so she wasn’t too sure where we were either.
“I wonder what this old building is.” I didn’t respond. I could feel myself getting grumpy. The heat. The sweat. The hunger. The feel of hard stone beneath my flimsy sandals. I needed to find somewhere to sit with a cold drink.
Sarah seemed to pick up on my deteriorating mood. Luckily, she knew how to handle such a tricky and delicate situation.
“Let’s walk around that way to see what it is, and then we can head for food.”
It sounded like something you would say to a whining child to stop them from moaning, but it worked. I would be finally getting my Italian pizza, cooked by an Italian chef in the heart of Italy, and hopefully a bucket of ice for my feet to sit in.
We followed the path to the end of the road and rejoined the crowd, following them like sheep to the front of the building. And… wow. This was not just any old building.
The enormous roof was being held up by rows and rows of pillars. I couldn’t make out the wording that was carved on the front of the building, but it didn’t stop me attempting to read it out loud. There were hundreds of people standing in and around the pillars, taking photos, touching them, leaning against them, sitting on the floor next to them. All in different poses for selfies, alone and with friends. The Pantheon was something else.
“Well,” Sarah said. “Wow.”