20. I gatti
20
I gatti
The Cats
Omar
R ome is special. It’s always been my number one city in the world, beating Beirut to second place. But turns out exploring Rome with an amazing person like Bri takes it to another level.
We finally got the car back three days ago, although the mechanic warned us that he couldn’t guarantee how long the Beast will last. As much as we enjoyed Castiglioncello, we left on the same day for Rome and have been exploring the city ever since.
Of course, we did our hop-on-hop-off bus tour but we also went to see the Vatican and the Colosseum where I actually got jealous of a bloody gladiator because Bri let him kiss her on the cheek.
Yesterday we sat on one of the benches above circus Maximus for two hours, and just soaked up the amazing view of the Palatino and talked about everything and nothing. She told me about her children, her divorce. I told her about my childhood and my time with my family in the Middle East. We spoke about our dreams and hopes. I love that she's considering going back to university. I'm proof that it's never too late to change your career.
Bri’s easy to talk to and even easier to tease. She doesn't mind laughing at herself. She has a serious side and intelligent side and a funny side. When all three come together, she's the most marvellous person I've ever met and it’s already making me feel anxious about the end of our holiday romance. Sometimes I catch myself wondering what if, but then I remind myself that the divorce rate is forty-two percent and nothing lasts forever, especially not a holiday romance. Let’s stay realistic here.
Today I'm taking her to the Cat Ladies of Rome. I haven’t told her where we’re off to but I promised her she’ll love it.
“Are you going to tell me where we're going?” she asks again as we get off the bus. Largo di Torre Argentina is a lively square filled with ancient ruins. The road surrounding it is busy with traffic and people. Fenced off in the centre are four old temples and the remains of Curia di Pompea where Julius Caesar was assassinated. But we’re not here to see the ruins, strictly speaking. At the far end of the ancient buildings steps lead down to a lower level and this is where I drag Bri.
As we turn the corner she throws a glimpse down into the ruins and squeals.
“Oh my God. Look, there's a cat.” She points at a little ginger who lies curled up in a flower pot, snoozing in the sun. As we walk closer I point at a sign: Cat Ladies of Rome. The ancient ruins are home to a large number of cats who are taken care of by a group of volunteers.
“What is this place?” she asks, more to herself than to me, before hopping down the stairs to the entrance. Whilst the cats roam freely they also have a safe place to sleep where they get fed. They're more like pets with ancient ruins for a playground.
Bri’s in her element. She moves from cat to cat, cooing over each furball. When she starts chatting with one of the volunteers I'm roped in as a translator and can barely keep up with the two very excited women chatting about their cats. Bri fishes out her phone and shows the lady a photo of Bella and they have another round of multilingual chitchat.
I think bringing her here was the right thing. I'm never going to understand her fascination with cats; I don't mind them, but I don't really need them in my life. But Bri, she clearly is a cat lady. And giving her this experience and seeing her excitement, makes me happy.
“What now?” Bri asks when I finally manage to get her away from the cats, almost two hours after we arrived.
“Hmm. I was thinking, how about a little break in our room?” I wink.
“Omar, we're in Rome.”
“Yeah, and when in Rome, do like the Romans do?” I wiggle my eyebrows to make it very clear what I plan to do to her in our bedroom.
“What would make you think they're shagging in the afternoon?” she giggles.
“Well—”
“I don't think so.” She shakes her head but cuddles up in my arms all the same.
“Come on. Let's have a break and then we can go to the Foro Traiano and see the light show in the evening.”
“Fine. But just a nap.” She gives me a triumphant smirk but we’ll see who wins this round. We’ve been at it like bunnies since we slept together the first time so I’m pretty sure it won’t take long for us to explore each other’s bodies once we hit the mattress. She’s nothing like any woman I’ve met before. Maybe it’s because she’s a bit older than me, and I usually go for women in their early thirties. But Bri, she’s different. She knows exactly what she wants, and she’s not shy about going after it. She’s confident in a way that draws me in. It’s not just about sex with her; it’s something more. She enjoys it, sure, but it’s not the kind of quick, casual thing you could have with anyone. When we’re together, it’s like she pulls me into this intimate, almost otherworldly experience. The connection is intense, and I can’t remember ever feeling that way before with anyone else.
By the time we get back to the hotel the idea of a nap feels like the best thing ever. We’ve been up since five this morning, having dragged ourselves out of bed to see the Fontana di Trevi at sunrise before the crowds descended. It was worth it because it was almost empty, just us and the fountain. We got some beautiful photos, and of course we threw a coin in.
Bri wanted to throw in a second and even a third. I had to stop her. Call me superstitious, but the whole “three coins means you’ll marry an Italian” legend? Yeah, I don't need her to fall victim to another Italian stallion. We had a bit of a back-and-forth about it—Bri thought the three coins thing was a romantic myth, and I tried my hardest to convince her that it’s just a silly movie reference. I don’t need to tempt fate like that. I know it’s ridiculous but I couldn’t help myself. Better safe than sorry.
When we finally make it to our room we collapse onto the bed like we’ve just finished a marathon. Bri curls up in my arms and I swear it feels so good it almost hurts. Her head rests on my chest, and she traces lazy circles on my stomach with her finger, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
“I’ve been thinking,” she murmurs, her voice soft but clear. “Maybe we should move on tomorrow. Perugia for a night or two, then San Marino. We’re running out of time and I want to make sure we get to Padua before heading to Salzburg.”
I feel my chest tighten. Not because of the places she’s rattling off, but because of what she’s really saying: we’re running out of time. There are only a few cities left to see and then this trip will be over. And so will our arrangement.
“Sounds good,” I say, keeping my voice steady but I can feel the dread settling in, heavy and thick. I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t want to think about what happens when this trip is over. Although we had both agreed to it, the thought of her going back to her life and me to mine nothing has ever sounded more unappealing. But I don’t want to spoil this moment.
She keeps drawing circles on my stomach, her touch light and soothing, and I just lie there staring at the ceiling, trying to ignore the knot in my chest. I love how easy this all feels—her in my arms, the quiet between us. It’s the kind of comfort you don’t find with just anyone. Stop it, Omar! Get a grip. This is not you.
“We’ll still make it to all the places you want,” I say, trying to sound casual. “Plenty of time.” It’s technically not quite true because we have to leave Salzburg by the twenty ninth of November to make it back on the thirtieth, a day ahead of the wedding party. That leaves us exactly nine days.
Bri tilts her head up, her eyes meeting mine. “You’re not… dreading the end of the trip, are you?”
I feel my stomach flip. She’s asking the question I’ve been dodging in my head for days. I want to tell her the truth—that I’m dreading it like hell. But I shrug instead, trying to play it off. “A bit. You?”
She gives a half-smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Yeah… it’s been amazing, hasn’t it?”
“Yeah,” I say, pulling her a little closer. “It has.”
We lie in silence for a while with the weight of what’s unspoken hanging between us. I now know why it’s so different with Bri. She became a friend first. She was relentless in making sure we get to know each other for the first couple of weeks, asking me lots of questions and making sure I heard every hilarious story from her life. She’s true to herself, what you see is what you get. She doesn’t play games, she doesn’t pretend to be someone cleverer, sexier, more sophisticated. She’s just who she is and she’s adorable. And only once we were friends, we explored this other side, opened us up to more.
I try to banish the thought that maybe this all was a big mistake from my mind. Every cell in me is screaming that this will end in heartache but I ignore them. Instead, I focus on the feel of her body curled against mine, her soft breath against my chest. I don’t want to ruin these last days by giving in to my inner alarm bells.
“Let’s not think about it now,” I say finally, my voice quiet. “We’ve still got time.”
She nods against my chest, her finger still tracing those circles. I press my lips to hers, soft at first, then with more urgency. Her mouth opens for me, our tongues dancing as my hands explore her body. She's so fucking beautiful. Every inch of her is a masterpiece.
Her perfect tits are in my hands, the perky nipples hardening under my touch. I need to taste her. I push her T-Shirt up and lower my mouth to her chest, sucking on each nipple through her bra until she moans beneath me.
Her fingers are in my hair, tugging gently, urging me downwards. I kiss a trail down her stomach, stopping briefly to swirl my tongue around her belly button. She laughs and squirms beneath me.
I deliberately take my time unbuttoning her jeans and pulling them off.
“You need to get naked too,” she commands. I give her a wink and crawl of the bed. I reach behind me and pull my shirt off.
“More?” I ask with a smirk.
“Trousers off, Mister,” she orders. I slowly unbutton my jeans and push them down a few inches before pulling them back up like I’m a bloody stripper. Bri loves it. She giggles excitedly and wolf whistles.
When I slowly start to push my jeans down again her fingers land on her clit and she starts to circle it. Fuck that’s hot.
“If you don’t hurry up, Snaily”, she uses my nickname for her, “I’ll do it myself.”
I lose my trousers and boxer shorts in one go and join her on the bed, swatting her fingers aside and lowering my head until I reach the prize between her legs. I can smell how wet she is—the intoxicating scent of arousal that drives me wild every time.
I push her knickers aside and my tongue finds her clit. I circle it slowly before flicking it back and forth. She bucks against me, gripping the bedsheet as pleasure courses through her body.
I slip two fingers inside her pussy, curling them upwards to reach that special spot that makes her scream my name. Her hips move with mine as I fuck her with my hand and devour her clit with my mouth.
I can tell she’s close now by the way she's writhing beneath me, moaning my name over and over again like a prayer.
I increase the speed of my hand and tongue until she's on the edge of release, then push her right over it.
She comes hard against me, thighs clamping around my head as she rides out the waves of pleasure crashing through her body. Fuck, she tastes good.
I kiss my way back up and lock eyes with Bri as she catches her breath. She pulls me into a passionate kiss, tasting herself on my lips.
"Fuck me," she whispers against my mouth and I don't need telling twice.