8 A Nighttime Fishing Trip #2
I could sense your “I love you” as I took refuge in your arms.
Silence had returned around us, and our souls took the opportunity to converse softly.
We were supposed to return to the dock as soon as the fishing trip was over, but you’d managed to bribe the crew, and the next morning I discovered that we’d been left alone on the boat, anchored about a hundred meters from the shore.
Although you’d surprised me so many times since I’d met you, you still managed to astound me every time, and I wondered how many sides of your personality I still didn’t know.
The galley had everything we’d need for a breakfast worthy of the name, and for once I felt really hungry.
Mid-morning, they came to pick us up in a speedboat, and when we disembarked, I blurted out to you in one breath: “I love you so much; I hadn’t told you that yet this morning.”
The night I spent with you had really made me ravenously hungry, and not satisfied with the breakfast we’d just eaten, I dragged you to the restaurant for another breakfast, this time consisting of tropical fruit and brioches.
We were very tired, but you didn’t want to admit it. I knew you usually slept about four hours a night, and I’d always scolded you because I thought that wasn’t enough.
Who would have thought that shortly afterward I’d start getting so little sleep myself—and all because of you?
I’d spend hours in bed thinking about you while checking my phone every five minutes to see if you’d sent me another message after the goodnight one.
I had this feeling that you were still awake and thinking about me, without realizing that I was doing the same thing to you.
We went back to the bungalow, and I lay down on the bed with a pillow in my arms, while you went out onto the porch, making up a trivial excuse.
In reality, you wanted me to fall asleep, and you knew that if you lay down next to me, you wouldn’t be able to resist cuddling me—which would keep me awake.
I was so tired that I fell asleep right away.
We woke up at sunset. We were swapping day for night, and we were having a lot of fun with it.
We both loved the darkness and the muffled silence, broken at times by the calls of nocturnal animals.
At night, people slept, and our senses enjoyed a newfound peace; voices became whispers, and our eyes lit up with passion.
Those were moments when I became a violin string beneath your fingers.
I was sure we wouldn’t remember any of this once we returned to Italy, because it was our intention to leave our memories on the island, to find them intact when we returned to our paradise on Earth.
We embraced slyly, each lost in our own thoughts. Exchanging a knowing glance, we decided to reluctantly get up at the sound of the horns announcing the restaurant’s opening.
Walking down the path leading to the restaurant, we passed a few resort guests dressed in rather unusual attire.
As we continued on, we noticed with obvious embarrassment that we were surrounded by Indians, cowboys, aliens, clowns, odalisques, and even a pope.
Maybe we were missing something, or maybe we were still dreaming.
Just to be sure, we went to the beach bar to check the evening’s program and discovered that it had been dedicated to the world of cinema.
We looked at each other in amazement and burst out laughing.
Once that moment of euphoria had passed, you suggested we dress up as Romeo and Juliet.
I quickly countered by suggesting the characters from Alice in Wonderland and the Mad Hatter.
Rattling off other eccentric pairs from the world of cinema, we headed back to the bungalow.
We felt unprepared for that kind of evening, and we didn’t have the faintest idea who to impersonate for the occasion.
“Why don’t you dress up as a babe?” you asked me, amused.
“And would you dress up as a tough guy?”
I replied, trying not to laugh. I realized we didn’t have the right outfits for the occasion, but I didn’t want to give you an excuse to stay in the room.
I already knew how it would end, and I didn’t mind that possibility at all, but at the same time, I was excited by the idea of impersonating a showbiz diva.
I knew I’d entertain you with my antics, and I wanted to do something strange that, for once, would seem normal to my peers. An idea came to me, but how could I convince you to dress up as Roger Rabbit, since I wanted to be Jessica Rabbit?
You looked at me with an indecipherable expression; I don’t know if it was fear of my crazy ideas, or if you’d already decided not to participate in the theme night.
In fact, I myself couldn’t imagine the doctor—respected by all and known for his seriousness, as well as an undisputed poet with a tendency toward melancholy—dressed up as a rabbit.
The time had come to unleash my feline side to convince you: I approached you, purring and looking at you with my big doe-like eyes.
Your instinct for self-preservation advised you to warn me against doing anything out of the ordinary in the name of our love.
I felt my hands were tied, but I had no intention of letting go, so I decided to change tactics.
I opened the suitcase to pull out a tight-fitting red dress featuring a deep back neckline that reached all the way down to my lower back.
I slipped it on in silence and tied my hair back with a ribbon.
You watched me with curiosity and a touch of concern as I finished getting ready by slipping on a pair of red satin pumps.
You sat down to enjoy the show just as I began to walk sensually while singing “You Had Plenty of Money in 1992.”
The look on your face made me realize I’d convinced you… maybe a little too much. A second later, I found myself on the bed, with your hands all over me, not knowing where to go.
After making me pay the price, we had to figure out what to dress you in.
The first problem that came up was the bunny ears, but my imagination came to the rescue, and I convinced you to wear one of my hairbands, to which we could attach a pair of long socks hanging down on either side.
The rest fell into place with a pair of baggy pants and a shirt left untucked, topped off with a pair of suspenders.
It was shaping up to be a very unusual evening, and to sugarcoat it, I jokingly told you not to complain about being a rabbit; although known for being a very timid animal, it had some good qualities, including the ability to do a certain thing all day long.
I finally managed to elicit a hearty laugh from you, and I sensed that a very fun evening was in store.
My Jessica Rabbit didn’t feel very comfortable in high heels.
Ever since I was little, I’d tried to go barefoot as much as possible because of the delicate skin on my dancer’s feet.
As we were heading toward the restaurant, I noticed that my swaying wasn’t going unnoticed.
One thing you were known for was not being jealous of me, and to emphasize just how proud you were to be by my side, you placed an open hand on my buttocks just as a couple of guys were staring intently at my backside.
To play along, I took your hand and slipped it under the fabric of my dress, kissing you passionately.
I had already slipped perfectly into character, but in reality, I know I would have done it anyway.
I felt euphoric, because by playing Jessica Rabbit, I could do whatever came to mind.
At the mere thought, my eyes sparkled like a little girl’s, and you stood there for a moment, looking at me with a serene expression.
When we arrived at the restaurant, they seated us at a table where Peter Pan and Wendy were already seated on one side and Diabolik and Eva Kant on the other. At the sight of the latter couple, I hid my purse, as it was better not to take any chances.
The appetizer was served by the Seven Dwarfs, who placed the food on our plates with little silver scoops, while the wine was poured for us by Bacchus himself.
While waiting for the next courses to arrive, the Dwarfs broke into a spontaneous rendition of “Heigh-Ho,” and I jumped up as if I had wings on my feet before you could stop me; thirty seconds later, I was leading a half-drunk human train.