trentotto
The week shot by like a bright flash of lightning.
Francesco’s latest post had stirred a whirlwind of interest. The vast majority of the hundreds of comments wished Lucia well, while others tried to guess when and where she would be waiting, and a few trolled her with hurtful quips about desperately seeking the limelight.
True to form, Lucia kept a wide berth from it all.
Head down, she pushed on at the school, introducing the future tense and ordinal numbers as they transitioned their focus to celebrating Easter. This brought with it another window-dressing change of hand-woven baskets, swathes of pastel fabrics and a collection of oversized, cellophane-wrapped chocolate eggs.
The Venezia, Ovunque! project had gathered even more steam, with a playful Instagram Reel about Venetian Easter traditions going viral, in a positive way, which brought in a wave of new subscribers.
It all helped keep Lucia’s mind off the now fewer than thirty days remaining to meet Edoardo’s deadline – and her potential date with destiny on Venerdì Santo .
That Friday night, despite the nonsense of it all, Lucia made her way across Piazza San Marco to the piazzetta with the view out to Lido island. The cold night air was her greatest advantage. It kept her senses alert, and encouraged others to stay indoors.
As she landed on the spot where all the madness had begun, she checked the time on her phone – 23.59.
And there she waited, mask in hand by her side.
The piazzetta was quiet and still, except for a few seagulls mewing overhead as they made their way back to the mainland. The basilica looked lonely without its usual crowd of milling tourists, heightening the emptiness of the piazza’s expanse. The restaurants and bars were closed, their tables and chairs tucked out of sight, and the street vendors and carts were long gone.
For the moment, it was just Lucia and Venice. And her mask, the one she had taken from ‘Nicolò’. Something about having it with her gave Lucia some sense of control; she had survived this before, and she could face it again.
With the same spirit that had encouraged her to accept the invitation to the ball in the first place, she pinned her shoulders back and breathed. She cast her faith out into the universe.
L’universo.
She repeated the word a number of times before succumbing to the quiet once again.
Suddenly stealing her attention, the bells of the Campanile burst to life in choral song. With each deeply rich chime – the force of which reverberated across the piazzetta and underneath the u-shaped portico – Lucia’s heart counted.
Uno. Due. Tre . . .
Closing her eyes, she let the vibrations of each note pulse through her.
Sette. Otto. Nove . . .
Part of her hoped that when she opened her eyes, he would be there. Perhaps standing right in front of her, ready to soothe her weary heart and put at ease the worry of her racing mind.
‘ Undici. Dodici . . .’ she murmured.
And then, the silence which flooded Piazza San Marco left her soul gasping for air. Drawing in a deep breath she slowly opened her eyes, but all that met her was the same unobstructed view of the empty piazzetta.
Nothing.
And no one .
Her shoulders dropped a little as she exhaled dejectedly.
Really? He’s not here?
She blinked several times, trying to see things in the piazzetta she knew were not there. Her disappointment grew. She caught her face in her hands, pressing her fingertips into her scalp. The pressure was grounding.
I really thought he would . . .
After a moment Lucia shook her hands out by her sides and cast her eyes to the ink-black sky. There was nothing more she could do. She accepted that now. Nodding into the dark canopy above, she bit her lip pensively. To the stars, she said, ‘I tried. Thank you for the kiss.’
‘You’re welcome,’ came a voice from behind her.
Lucia’s legs turned to jelly.
That voice.
She knew that voice.
Lucia turned to find the broad-shouldered figure she had met on the eve of Valentine’s Day, draped in the same hooded cape, wearing the same black half-mask.
The breeze flicking off the open waters from Lido seemed to intensify, whipping the loose strands of hair around her face.
He started walking towards her and Lucia’s heart began to pound in time with his footsteps. Eventually, he stopped at arm’s-length in front of her and his eyes, barely visible through the mask’s narrow slits, looked down on her.
Lucia noted how he opened his mouth, as if wanting to speak, but she quickly raised a hand to silence him. Shaking her head, she said, ‘No. Please. Not yet.’
Dropping ‘Nicolò’s’ mask to the grey pavers, she inched her way closer to him and rose on the balls of her feet. Looking up at him, she saw that his height and physique matched what she remembered. She laid both hands on the top of his chest and turned her head ever so slightly, welcoming him to her. Her grasp ran the length of his forearms, eventually finding his hands. She turned them over and traced his palms with her fingers.
Rough. Calloused.
And she felt awash with relief.
He moved closer then and, feeling the warmth of his breath against the tender skin of her lips, a familiar yearning returned to Lucia’s core. Even before she felt him upon her, Lucia knew it was him .
Suddenly, his mouth was there.
Taking Lucia into his arms, he drew her in, bringing her as close to him as possible. His left hand cradled the back of her head as his right circled her lower back, pulling her tighter still.
It was everything and more. It had the magnetic pull of their first kiss, but this kiss was closer, more intimate, loaded with a new kind of effervescent energy. There was a tantalising familiarity in his taste and smell.
Lucia liquefied in his embrace, surrendering herself totally to the moment, to the pleasure.
After a few moments, they both pulled gently apart, and Lucia took a short step back.
Her companion dropped his hood back to his shoulders, revealing a glossy mop of auburn hood-tousled waves. Then, finding the ties at the back of his head, he pulled on them, and the mask dropped into his hands.
Alex smiled back at her.
The most incredible relief flooded Lucia’s system. The adrenaline spike drew the blood from her head to her feet, causing her to drop to her knees.
Alex met her on the pavers and caught her chin with his hand. Caressing her cheek with his thumb, he whispered, ‘Are you ok?’
The light from the basilica behind her reflected in Alex’s concerned cinnamon eyes, and she couldn’t help but smile back. ‘I couldn’t be happier that it’s you.’
A tangled mess of hands, lips and legs, Lucia and Alex practically burst through the service entry door of La Commedia. They prised the clothing off each other, leaving a trail of items from the door to his upstairs apartment. Alex scooped Lucia into his arms and brought her to his bed, setting her down on the edge.
Tugging at his trousers, Alex watched as Lucia pulled off her shirt. Then, he was on top of her. Insatiable. He started by holding her face steady as his hands ran through the sleek lengths of her dark hair. It tickled his chest and shoulders, and the way she bit down on her lower lip stirred something very powerful in his resolve.
She wants this too.
Lucia answered every touch and caress with a matched breath. Equal passion.
Their months of to-ing and fro-ing, their challenges, their peace-making, it all fuelled their play. Every touch – every sensation – seemed heightened.
Her skin, all of it, right down the length of her, resonated the most intoxicating heat, so that Alex felt he couldn’t hold her close enough.
Lucia arched her spine as a ripple of electricity shot from between her legs to her middle. Hearing Lucia’s encouraging moans in response to his touch only intensified Alex’s desire for her. He wanted her to enjoy everything he did. He wanted to be the reason she buckled and writhed in ecstasy.
Alex dropped his mouth to the lace trim of her bra and teased his lips along her warm alabaster skin. Lucia’s breath hitched, and Alex smiled. Her chest heaved with each breath, and he replied by dropping kisses along the quivering fullness of her right breast. But he wanted more. Pulling the cup down to release her nipple he teased it with a gentle caress of his moist tongue.
Lucia almost lost control, and the way her hands fumbled down his abdomen, teasing his length through his underwear, told Alex she was ready for more.
But something suddenly held him back.
He pulled away, and his flushed face drained of its passion. ‘Lucia, I need to tell you something.’
Lucia would have none of the pause. She grunted and pulled at his shoulders, attempting to bring him back to her. ‘What could possibly be so important right now?’ she panted, propping herself on her bended elbows, swatting a few strands of her long dark hair from her face.
‘It’s just . . .’
‘Does it have to do with us having sex?’ Her chest continued to heave.
His brow furrowed. ‘No, it doesn’t. But—’
‘Then tell me in the morning.’
Watching her stretch back on his bed and slide her underwear down her thighs, he conceded, leaving his own on the floor.
With Lucia’s legs now wrapped around his middle, he made the conscious decision to slow the pace. Leaning over Lucia, the tip of his nose found hers, and he stared deep into her eyes. Those lagoon-green eyes . He was taken aback by how serene she looked. As if she had surrendered herself completely to the moment. To him.
All that remained was Lucia – relieved, content, yet also vulnerable. And so beautiful.
He dipped his head to find her mouth once more.
Lucia instinctively pushed through his restraint, but he coaxed her back to his new rhythm. ‘What’s the hurry?’ he asked, pressing his forehead against hers.
‘There isn’t any,’ she replied, knotting her arms around the back of his neck. ‘I just want you.’
He gave her a gentle, reassuring nod. ‘I’m right here.’
And with that, Alex felt Lucia soften in his hold. She released whatever it was that kept her wound and tight, and let him take over.