Chapter 3 #3
I let out a low sigh. ‘I’m not like my sisters.
They’ve always been great at projecting a confident public image.
They can play the part. Not me.’ I shake my head sorrowfully.
‘They’re like fire and ice, though,’ I continue nervously when he doesn’t say anything, just looks at me with that piercing gaze of his.
‘They really don’t get on. I’m not entirely sure why.
No one ever tells me anything of any consequence.
They treat me like the baby of the family, even though I’m only two years younger than Maya.
To be honest, where my family’s concerned, I think I’d rather not know what’s going on in their heads.
I don’t really feel like I fit with the rest of them.
When she was alive, my mum always said none of them could figure out where I came from. ’
He reaches over and gives my hand a squeeze. ‘I was sorry to hear she passed away.’
‘Yeah, thanks,’ I say, allowing the grief I still feel to this day to sink through my body. I let it sit there in my heart for a moment, acknowledging it but not letting it overwhelm me, before tucking it away again.
‘I was only thirteen when she died and my father just sort of checked out – not that he’s ever paid much attention to me – so April stepped into her role, though she’s not exactly the mothering type.
She’s very brittle and can be quite cold sometimes – something which benefits her in the male-dominated business world she works in – but it makes me suspect she’s quite lonely in her love life.
In fact, I don’t think she even really has one.
I know she goes out on dates with men, and I’m sure she sleeps with some of them, but they never last. It’s like she’s built an emotional wall around herself, perhaps because she feels like she needs to be responsible for Maya and I, though she really doesn’t.
Maya can definitely take care of herself and she really doesn’t need to worry about me. I’m fine.’
It must have sounded insincere because once again he reaches over and puts his hand on my arm. ‘Are you sure about that?’
I sigh, feeling the weight of my anxiety about how difficult I’ve found it letting people into my heart, then shrug that off too. I mustn’t dominate the conversation with my personal angst; it’s not fair on Sandro.
‘Yes. At least, I will be once you’ve taught me how to be a master seductress,’ I joke, picking up my fork again and finishing off my meal.
I feel him watching me as I eat but I don’t look at him again until I’ve put my fork down and wiped my mouth on my napkin.
‘You want to get out of here?’ he asks, nodding at my empty plate.
‘Yes,’ I say, liking the idea of having a break from the intensity of sitting opposite him. ‘Good idea. I could do with some fresh air.’
So after Sandro’s settled the bill, which he insists on paying, we take a walk across the square and look around the basilica, enjoying a few minutes of cool relief from the balmy evening air.
I’m acutely aware of his presence, even when he’s on the other side of the building, and I find myself drawn back towards him after only a few minutes on my own gazing at the beautiful Renaissance art.
He’s a work of art all on his own.
‘So, do you still want to check out that club?’ Sandro asks as we exit the church into the now dark night-time air. I nod, recognising that I really should be making more of an effort to be the sort of party girl he’s used to being with.
‘Sure, it sounds like fun.’
‘I promise you, it will be. Giorgio’s clubs are something else,’ he says with a loaded grin, and I worry for a moment about what we’re going to walk into.
* * *
When we get to the club – which turns out to be in the middle of a row of bars and restaurants round the corner from our apartment – the bouncer on the door looks me up and down as if he’s assessing whether I’m cool enough to be let in.
My face flushes hot with embarrassment, as I suspect he’s about to decide that I’m not, when Sandro steps forward and gruffly tells him our names, protectively sliding his arm round my waist and pulling me close.
After that we’re waved straight through.
The magic of who you know.
Inside there’s a chrome and black lacquer bar in the middle of the room with a large crowd of people standing around it and a small dance floor off to one side which is heaving with dancers.
On the other side of the room are high tables and stools, which are currently all occupied. It’s a popular place all right.
‘Let’s get a drink,’ Sandro suggests, already heading to the bar.
For some reason all the other patrons turn to stare at us as we approach and there’s something strange about the way the men are looking at me, almost as though they’re sizing me up.
Do I really stand out so much in my demure cocktail dress?
Surely I’m not making that much of a fashion faux pas?
Once we have our drinks, we stand by the bar and I watch the crowd of people around me.
They’re all so confident and full of life, laughing and flirting with each other.
I have a pang of longing to be one of them.
To be part of a scene that I feel welcome and comfortable in.
It must be lovely, being so assured of yourself and your place in society.
I turn to look at Sandro, who’s staring over at the other side of the room where there’s a long, green velvet curtain pulled across what appears to be a doorway.
A tall, burly bouncer is guarding it and, as I watch, he gives a nod to a man and woman who approach, but stops a small group of men from entering.
I wonder what can be going on behind that curtain. Is there a smoky room full of card sharps back there, perhaps? Or a cool 1920s-style speakeasy, or a jazz cabaret? My heart leaps with excitement. I’d love to walk through that curtain and into the middle of one of those things.
‘Is there a poker game going on back there?’ I wonder aloud to Sandro.
He gives me an indulgent sort of smile. ‘Not exactly.’
‘So what is it?’ I ask, irritated that he apparently knows and is enjoying the fact that I don’t.
‘It’s a playroom.’
‘A what?’ I have a vision of a room full of adults all playing with train sets and building blocks. It’s a weird idea, but then people can have strange fetishes – or so I’ve heard.
‘There are beds in there where people are having sex.’
‘In – in front of each other?’ I choke out.
There’s that indulgent smile again. ‘Yeah. Some people get off on that.’
Suddenly I can barely breathe. This is the sort of thing that only happens in stories, though, right? Surely people don’t actually have sex in public in real life?
From the look in Sandro’s eyes I’m guessing I have an awful lot to learn about ‘real life’.
‘Want to go in and check it out?’ he murmurs.
My first instinct is to say hell, no and get straight back to the safety of our apartment, but something in his face stops me. He wants me to see it. To experience everything there is to know about sex. Just as I told him I’d wanted to on the plane.
So I swallow down my fear and give him a shaky but affirmative nod.
He nods back. ‘Okay, then.’
Taking my hand, he leads me towards the doorway.
I think for a second we’re going to be denied entry, as the bouncer looks us up and down, but then he holds back the curtain for us to slip through.
I feel a rush of fear about what we’re about to see, but I keep walking, allowing Sandro to lead me inside.
And straight into an orgy.
I stand there, frozen in shock, my heart pounding in my chest as though it’s trying to break out and escape as I stare at a huge circular bed in the middle of the room upon which a big group of people is doing all manner of intimate-looking things to each other.
I jump as Sandro slides his arm around my waist.
‘Quite a sight, huh?’ he murmurs into my ear.
I nod stupidly, but no words will leave my mouth. My body seems to be petrified. Despite my determination to throw off my prudishness while I’m here in Italy, I know for a fact right now that I’m not going to be able to handle being here. I really don’t want to stay. I really, really don’t.
Panic wells in my gut as I watch the surreal scene of entwined limbs and heaving bodies playing out before me.
What if Sandro expects me to join in with this?
I won’t be able to. There’s no way. A tremble that began in my hands seems to be spreading through my whole body now.
I can’t move. I’m too terrified even to take a step.
I have a sudden mad vision of one of the people on the bed reaching out and dragging me into the mêlée, where I’ll be suffocated under a pile of naked bodies.
I’m uncomfortably aware that Sandro is looking at me and I turn to meet his gaze, seeing a slight frown on his face.
‘Are you okay?’ he asks.
I can’t even shake my head because my neck is too tense.
My expression must have alerted him to my discomfort because gently he draws me back behind the curtain with him, the security of his embrace helping to unfreeze my limbs. Cupping my face, he looks into my eyes, then frowns and sighs.
‘I shouldn’t have taken you in there.’
Now I’m behind the curtain with the sex show safely hidden on the other side, I’m finally able to speak. ‘It kind of blew my mind,’ I mutter.
He rubs his hand over his eyes, then shoots me a look of concern.
‘I wasn’t expecting you to join in with it, you know.
I just thought you might find it interesting after the conversation we had on the plane about not needing to be in love to have sex.
You said you wanted to understand and experience everything, so I thought it’d be a good opportunity to see other people being totally uninhibited in the pursuit of pleasure.
I thought you’d be able to handle it, but clearly, I read the situation wrong. ’
‘That’s the understatement of the year,’ I mutter, my humiliation turning to frustration with myself.
He lets out a low, exasperated sigh. ‘Yeah, okay. We should go home.’
‘Home?’ I panic for second that he means he’s going to dump me back in London and my time with him will be over before it’s even begun. That I’ve blown it by pretending I’m okay with our deal, only to prove tonight that I’m really not.
Am I a lost cause?
I want to cry.
‘Back to the apartment,’ he says gruffly.
I relax a little, but only a little. I can’t look at him now, though. I’m so dispirited.
‘Yes. Okay. Let’s go back,’ I mutter, pretty sure this signals the end of our deal. How can he possibly hope to help me when I freak out so badly at the sight of other people having sex?
I’m so convinced I’ve ruined everything I fully expect him to ask me to pack my things and leave as soon as we get back to the apartment.
Shame and disappointment take turns to sink through me.
So much for my sexual liberation.