Chapter 38
CALLUM
Today, for the first time, I want to stay in the hotel room.
I’m not burning to go to a museum, I don’t need to see a historic site, and I don’t want to leave the bed that I shared with Asha the night before.
I could lie here the entire morning, becoming one of the tourists that choose to spend their limited time in Europe in the hotel room when they’re surrounded by history and art and great food.
Although if they had someone like Asha in their room (not her; I have her), I guess I can’t blame them. Maybe still a little judgement if it’s their first time in the city and they blew it off for a sexual encounter, but less judgment than I would have had for them in the past.
Ironically, it’s Asha who suggests we get out of bed and see Venice.
She looks so pleased with herself, and so certain that this is what I want, that I don’t have the heart to tell her no.
So I do end up leaving the hotel room, for once, against my will.
But I have to pretend this is what I want, when I would have been just as happy to stay in the room all day. Or until we had to meet the bus.
But she wants to go out, so we’ll go out.
She chooses to visit the Ca’ Rezzonico, a Baroque palace from the eighteenth century.
It has historic significance and beautiful architectural details, but all I want to look at is Asha.
She keeps trying to tell me about some detail or another that she sees, but I can’t do anything other than nod and hope that passes as a response.
After a leisurely meal, we arrive at the hotel to prepare to meet the group about an hour early. Laura gets there soon after.
“How was your free time in Venice?” Asha asks Laura.
“Fun, but now I’m knackered. I met up with some friends in the city, and we lost track of time. I ended up having to decide between sleep and food today. I chose sleep.”
“Oh no!” Asha says. “Why don’t you go get some food now? We’ll watch the bus for you, and no one will probably even be here for another forty minutes.”
“Oh, would you? That would be fantastic!”
“Yes, go,” I burst out. When both women look at me strangely, I clear my throat and add, “You need to be well fed. We’ve got a long drive ahead of us.”
She shrugs and walks away, while Asha gets settled into her seat.
“What was that about?” she asks, not looking at me.
“This group, while being on time, doesn’t get here that early,” I say as I take her hand.
“Yes,” she says, brow a little furrowed.
I lock the bus door and lead her to the back where there are less windows because of the bathroom.
“So we have this bus all to ourselves for a while.”
“Callum! In the bus? In our workplace?” She sounds scandalized, but she turns around and braces her hands on the edge of the bus seat in front of her, throwing a mischievous smile over her shoulder at me.
“The windows are tinted.” I move aside her hair and kiss her neck.
“And high above the ground.” I slide my hands up her thighs and bunch her dress up at her waist, pushing aside her underwear so I can touch her clit.
“And no one is going to be here for the next twenty minutes, at least.” With my one free hand, I tilt her head so I can kiss her.
She moans into my mouth and tries to grab my head, but I force her hand back to holding the seat I want to touch her this time, and I might lose it if she touches me.
It’s already exciting enough doing it in semi-public, even though this bus is safe from prying eyes, and we’re parked in a side street without much traffic.
I grind against her with my erection as I kiss her and play with her, enjoying this bus more than I ever have in the past.
When she’s wet and panting, I remove my hands to undo my trousers. She moans a little in loss and tries to scoot back to me. I thrust against her once more before pulling back so I can get the condom I optimistically put in my pocket earlier, lower my trousers, and put the condom on.
Ready, I pull her back toward me and push her dress up again. I’m so grateful she’s always wearing these things instead of trousers, it makes for much easier access. I push her underwear aside and slide into her. I adjust her hips so it’s easier to enter her, and groan when I’m all the way in.
I pause for a second with my hand on Asha’s shoulder, hearing the distant sounds of people as I feel her heat envelope me. Then I start thrusting, slowly first and then faster, as Asha brace herself on the bus seat.
“Yes, tell me how much you want me,” I say.
“I want you,” she says, her words broken as she strains against me, searching for her own orgasm.
“Tell me how much you need this.” I start playing with her clit again, and she lowers her head to rest it on the seat which pushes her hips more toward me.
“I need it. I need you. Make me come,” she begs.
“Anything you want, Wee Sunshine.” I grab her hand and direct her to her clit so she can play with herself while I grab her hips better in the tight bus seat. I thrust harder now, starting to feel the tingling in my balls telling me I’m about to come.
But not without her.
I slow my pace until I feel the resulting tension in her, and then she comes, spasming around my dick. Then I let go, increasing my pace until I’m coming as well.
I collapse on the seat, pulling Asha back into me so I can kiss her and caress her ass as I smooth her dress down.
“Best…trip…ever,” she says on a laugh.
I smack her ass, because it’s right there, but I don’t contradict her.
This just might be the best trip ever.
After we catch our breath and clean up, we return to the front of the bus, where we wait for the group, and Laura, to come back. Which they eventually do, unfortunately. Interrupting my time sneaking cuddles with the woman I’m slowly becoming as obsessed with as I am with history.
“The sooner we get into the bus, the sooner we can eat dinner. In Florence, y’all. Gelato will be involved,” Asha greets the tired tourists as she cheerfully ushers them onto the bus. Cheerfully, but still a little flushed from what we were doing earlier.
“Everyone is here on time. I’m impressed,” I whisper at Asha as we finish loading the suitcases, giving her a compliment I know she’ll appreciate.
“I told you…best group ever!” Asha manages to make an “I told you so” seem less irritating and more charming than if it had come from someone else.
“I wouldn’t go that far.” Despite the fact that this group is shaping up to be better than most. The lawyers came back from Milan and are on the bus, everyone’s been on time, and no one has gotten significantly lost or arrested.
Maybe the rest of the trip won’t be that bad.
Why did I speak too soon? I just sang the praises of this group and now this.
“Don’t say anything,” Asha says from her position in front of me as we wander the streets of Florence at one in the morning.
“I haven’t said anything.”
“You’re thinking it. I can hear you from here; it’s very loud.”
“You can’t actually control how I think, like some sort of wee adorable thought police.”
“I can try.”
I sigh. “Are they answering the phone?”
“No. And their parents have now progressed to full-on frantic.”
We were settling in for a nice night together after dinner, without the tourists, when Asha got the call from some very nervous parents, Jennifer and Peter, who didn’t know where their teen was.
Playing a hunch, we called Louis and Brian, who confirmed that Jack was out taking a walk. Allegedly alone.
“Where can they be?” I ask, running my hand through my hair.
Florence is a small city, but it’s never felt this big before.
Maybe I never had reason to curse the many dark, twisting alleys and streets before.
And the historic architecture has never felt so…
similar. Every turn I take, there are beautiful medieval buildings that I can’t tell if we’ve already seen on this search.
“The drinking age is firmly eighteen, but frankly—”
I sigh. “I know. I was drinking in this city at sixteen. They don’t have the most strict enforcement.”
“Which would be fine except that these teens are our responsibility!”
“I left some texts. Maybe they’re just not answering calls. I wouldn’t answer an unknown number either, honestly, so I can’t blame them for that.”
“Fucking romantic city. Fucking romantic pasta that you can Lady and the Tramp with. Fucking delicious wine. Fucking gelato you can share romantically. Fucking romantic birthplace of the fucking renaissance.”
“I don’t know that Florence has been yelled at for any of those things before.” Or that I’ve heard this many curse words from her.
“There’s a first time for everything,” Asha yells at me, marching across cobblestones toward the city center with an intensity she usually reserves for getting to museum gift shops.
And today had been going so well, too. After our…
time in the bus, everyone was punctual, we only needed one bathroom/refueling stop, and then hotel check-in and dinner went smoothly as well.
We had a sociable one drink with the group at a bar next to the restaurant, and then we broke away to enjoy some private time in the hotel.
In my room this time, because I have a better view overlooking the Duomo.
But then, before we could enjoy that alone time, we got the call from Jennifer, with Peter yelling at us from somewhere in their room. As if it’s out fault they can’t find their teenage daughter.
All I can says is, I’m glad Asha received that call, because I would have asked what they wanted me to do about it, when they can’t even control their own progeny. Who they’re sharing a room with.
“Are we going to march into every club and bar in Florence until we find Virginia?”
“Yes. Or until they all close. Or until Virginia calls us back. Or until her parents say she’s home. And we might as well keep an eye out for Jack, too. Because I think I terrified his parents with my call.”
“The walking tour tomorrow is gonna be fun after a long night of clubbing. Something I haven’t done since my youth.”
“And you don’t even get to enjoy the club, but it’ll still suck tomorrow. So it’s worse than your youth.”
We go in and out of a few bars and one club, with no luck.
We even asked bartenders if they had seen the wee ones (after getting photos texted from their parents), but we just got strange looks for asking after children we’re not related to.
“I don’t think this is the most effective use of our time. ”
“Oh, there’s almost no chance this is going to work. But we can’t do nothing. And I don’t want to be in the room with the anxious parents either. So this is the best option.”
“They’re probably fine. Teenagers have been sneaking out to bars since forever.”
“I know. But until we know for sure, it’s our problem.”
We walk into a few more establishments before taking a break on the steps of the Duomo. To “check the phones,” if anyone asks. Our phones are out, for honesty.
“This is the part of the job I absolutely hate. Anything else I can deal with, but this is not the craic,” I say, phone screen facing the ground as I give up pretending this is anything other than a break.
“The teenage hormones?”
“Well, partly.”
“Right? They’re not as entertaining in real life as it is when I’m rewatching To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before.”
“I don’t know how anyone can enjoy teen movies and shows.”
Asha gasps. “Because they’re very entertaining. They’re literally written that way.”
Okay, I can tell this is one of those things she cares deeply about that I will never understand.
So I don’t try to, and I go back to my original point in the conversation.
“Mostly, I hate being responsible for someone else’s drama and safety while having no control over their movements.
And as much as I have to learn about being a better tour leader, I don’t think my feelings on that will ever change. ”
“Having twenty to thirty adult children to look out for is definitely the hardest part of the job.”
“But you do it so well.” I tug on a bit of her hair that has escaped her messy bun.
“That doesn’t mean I like it; it’s stressful. But every job has parts that aren’t as fun. I’ll take it for the parts that I do like.”
“I want to accept it as much as you do.”
“Unfortunately, I don’t have any advice on how to make that happen. Because it would involve an entire personality change. And I like your personality.”
I sputter, at a loss at what to say in response to the compliment.
I’m saved by her phone lighting up. She flips it over face up so fast I think it’s going to fly out of her hand and smash into the wall of the Duomo.
“Barnes and Noble would like me to know there’s a sale on pre-orders,” Asha says, reading the screen and deflating from the readiness that filled her seconds ago.
“Ah. Important information, when the closest one is in New York.”
“We should get up and look for these kiddos.” But she doesn’t move.
“I’m sure they’ll love being called kiddos.”
“Well, they are! They should enjoy youth and having parents that take them to Europe.”
We still don’t get up, since I would rather be with Asha, sitting on the steps of history, than going on this pointless search and rescue mission. A rescue that the rescuees, if memory serves me, won’t appreciate.
I certainly wouldn’t have.
Then again, there is a slight chance they’re in danger. And so we have to keep looking. Before I can start to get up, I hear an angry voice from my right.
“What are you doing here?”