Chapter Four #2
“No need…” she says, looking up at the walls. “It seems like Venice doesn’t punish womanizers, after all.”
I raise my eyebrows, smiling. “Ouch. You really have no trust in me.”
She shrugs, the corners of her lips rising a little. “Well, I ran off with you, didn’t I?”
I straighten my posture, occupying the entire width of the calle . She is trapped, and she realizes that, but her eyes don’t show any signs of distress. She just looks up and down my body.
“Those were some good tricks.” She’s sharp. My moves didn’t go unnoticed. “Touching shoulders, holding hands, staying close in a narrow alley… I’m writing it all down.”
“You have some tricks up your sleeve too,” I say, thinking of how she turned my comment about the legend into a bewitching little romp. She drove me deeper into the alley with her even though she’d made it clear she thinks I’m devious.
She likes the game as much as me. The thought sends a wave of excitement through my body.
Water laps onto the stone steps behind us, and the sounds of my Venice make the perfect sonata for this moment. I want to write a violin piece about this. About her .
“Here, it can be just the two of you,” I say, then correct myself. “Well, if you’re lucky like we are today, and no one else shows up.” I stretch my smile, feeding my always artful imagination. “And if someone does come, you have an excuse to stay longer, packed together, until they leave.”
She nods, gazing at me. “Got it. Now let’s get back.”
But I’m not ready to leave, and I want to test if she is ready, or if it’s just something she’s telling herself. I completely block the path with my body.
“Make me move.”
She gives me a “Really?” look. I keep the shade of a smile on my lips.
“Pretend I’m Jeremy. What would you do?”
“He wouldn’t do that.”
“He’s playful,” I say. “He could.”
She takes the bait. “I would probably tickle him.”
“Don’t say it— do it .”
Her expression gets more surprised. Then she laughs. “I can’t. You’re a stranger. I don’t tickle strangers.”
“Have you ever tickled Jeremy?”
She thinks for a second. “Not as an adult.”
“Then how different is it, really? I’m letting you.”
She purses her lips, thoughtful. “Then maybe I wouldn’t do that.”
I take a small step closer, cornering her even more. She steps back, and I realize there is only water behind her, so my reflexes send my arms forward, and I grip her before she falls.
She wasn’t as close to the edge as I thought, and now I’m holding her, my fingers around her bare arms. The fear of falling brought her hands to my shoulders, and we stare at each other in a daze. Neither of us move.
“I’m…sorry,” I say with a weak, raspy voice. It’s the sudden knot in my throat.
“It’s okay,” she whispers back, equally confounded.
This is the kind of movie-scene situation I’m always trying to create for the women I go out with. And now here I am, ironically experiencing a spontaneous romantic moment—one that is more perfect than any I could have planned. If this was a real date, I would kiss her now.
But it is not.
I’m enjoying this, and she seems to be enjoying it too, but that doesn’t mean we are taking any of it seriously. It’s fun, and it makes our bodies tingle, but I can’t get carried away. I’m here to win my bet with Luigi and earn my dream life in Venice as manager of Hotel Marchesi.
I allow Daisy to stabilize herself, then move my arms away from her. My heart hammers as I look at her face. It’s almost a physical pain to feel her body so close to mine only to let it go.
“You can go ahead.” I press my back against one of the walls so she can pass. I have no tricky ideas right now. I just want to let her leave the alley.
But it’s a really narrow alley, and when Daisy squeezes through the space between my body and the wall, she does so in a slow, calculated way, her torso brushing mine. She stares straight into my eyes, provoking me.
What if she does want me? God, it would be hard to say no to her…
Taking this seduction game to bed is tempting as hell. I can be uncommitted. That’s my nature. I can have fun with her and still help her seduce her friend.
But would she give up on her plans if I kissed her and touched her like she deserves to be touched?
She is almost finishing her pleasurably slow crossing when I grab her wrist, and she holds her breath with a low gasp, looking down at my hand and then up at my face.
I’d guess she is not more than twenty centimeters shorter than me, maybe fifteen, so it’s easy to level my face with hers.
Her lips are parted, ready to be kissed, but I stay frozen, only my voice reaching down to her.
“I have other places to show you… If you’re still interested.” I keep sounding strangled, but she doesn’t seem to care. We’ve both forgotten the right way to breathe.
“I am,” she says.
I feel something… Farfalle nello stomaco . I don’t like attributing the tingling sensation to butterflies, but Italians seem to agree with Americans that small wings flutter inside our bodies when euphoria takes over. I haven’t felt this for a long time.
Daisy’s delicate hands land on my shoulders and slide to the sides of my arms. She turns me in place, so that she stands in my way.
“You’ll have to move me first, though.”
Her hands leave my body too soon, but her mouth is turned up in a modest smile. She’s practicing. I grin.
“And what am I allowed to do?” I ask because, lesson or not, I need to know my boundaries.
The endless possibilities seem to entice her as her lips tremble, and I see her take a nervous breath. She keeps her composure, however.
“Anything he could do.”
Her answer sends me to the edge. It’s still about him, and I’ve learned enough about Jeremy Burton to know he’s rather conservative, especially regarding Daisy.
But anything …that’s still a lot of possibilities. And she’s giving me permission.
Starting slowly is always the best approach. There are few things more powerful than the smallest, softest touches when it comes to foreplay.
Not that we’re there yet. Or that we’ll ever be. This is just a teaser, what I can safely do to satisfy us both in this small, hot calle , when our hormones are boiling.
I lift a hand and touch a strand of hair near her eyes. Slowly and gently, I tuck it behind her ear, our breaths audible to each other. I can smell her rosy perfume and the pistachio essence coating her lips.
“Would you move, please, sweet Daisy?”
The soft, cute approach is the safe starter. But she shakes her head. “He wouldn’t say it like that.”
I bite my lip, struggling to control the immense desire building in me. Part of it escapes, though, and I hold her by the shoulders, then gently but quickly push her against the wall.
My move takes her by surprise and a sigh escapes her lips. I press her against the stone bricks, eliminating all space between our bodies, and God, it feels good … I feel her warmth through our layers of clothing. The hard shapes of her slim body. Her small breasts… Mamma mia .
I bring my mouth closer to her ear and whisper, “Can you move, please?” I back away just enough to see her eyes, our noses mere centimeters away. “Would he say it like this?”
Her chest moves up and down with difficulty, and I can feel her fast pulse making her skin throb. I haven’t wanted someone so much in a long time.
I think of Luigi. The project I committed to. My life in the manager’s quarters…
I can’t kiss her…
But my willpower is fading.
“I guess I’ll have to find out, right?”
For a second, I’m lost. I don’t know what she’s talking about.
But then I remember she is going to try all this with Jeremy, and my excitement wanes.
I’m just the teacher. The cupid. If I’m to make her heart a target, it’s so she falls in love with her friend—not me .
I need to accept my role in all this if I want to keep seeing her.
If I don’t want things to get so complicated that they threaten our plans.
She puts her hands on my collar and adjusts it before using her palms to gently push me. I back away, gluing my back to the opposite wall, and she sneaks past me without touching me at all, which proves she could have done that the first time.
I stay still with my mouth open, exhaling heavily.
She clearly feels the attraction between us, and this afternoon, she let herself be pulled toward me. She enjoyed my sample, my teaser, but she probably concluded it’s risky to give in to it.
I like living on the edge. I’m less responsible than I’d like to be. I shouldn’t be hoping she decides that spending time with me is harmless. But here I am, holding on to silly—irresponsible—hopes.
When she is at the archway leading to the broader part of the calle , she turns her head back and, with a quick question, makes me cheer inside.
“Where are we going next?”
* * *
I bring Daisy to Campo Bandiera e Moro, a small square in the Castello sestiere .
It’s a scenic twenty-minute walk that crosses Rio dei Mendicanti, Rio de San Lorenzo, and Rio de la Pleta.
I show her good places to eat and to shop and let her stop and look around when something interests her.
Murano glass catches her eye, and I suggest she take a vaporetto to see Murano and Burano with Jeremy.
When we arrive in the square, we sit on one of the red benches next to a tree, and Daisy’s eyes take everything in.
I like how she doesn’t just walk in Venice, eager to get to the next place.
She pays attention to the details, which is not something you can say about ninety percent of the tourists who clutter the streets to take photos.
Don’t get me wrong, I do like photos and think people should take them during their vacation, but for many travelers, it’s what it’s all about.
People are so focused on capturing the moment that they forget to enjoy it with their own eyes.
I often ask the hotel guests how their walk was, what they saw or found interesting, and most say they got some nice pictures and bought a pretty mask.