with any semblance of a flirtatious remark, when I managed to say, “I take it you went out again.”
“A matter of business that could not wait until morning,” he replied. “Since we’d already said our goodnights, I did not think it necessary to explain myself further.”
“That’s for sure. I’m only a guest and not your keeper.”
He placed one hand over mine that was clutching the cover. “You’re shaking. Would you allow me to comfort you?”
“Maybe some night music, you know, Andrea Bocelli.”
Lorenzo picked up a remote sitting on the night stand—one I hadn’t noticed before—gave the remote a click, and within moments the soothing voice of Bocelli filled the room.
“Lovely,” I said. “Who’s he singing with.”
“Dolce Pontes, if I’m not mistaken.”
“Two singing as one, nice.”
“There are many things two can do as one,” he said.
“Uh-huh, so I’ve heard.” Thanks to Margo.
He took a step back, as if preparing to leave. “Is there anything else I can do for you, Elena.”
“That depends.” A lump had formed in my throat. Yet I managed to ask, “What did you have in mind?”
“Only what you agree to. We could start with you inviting me into your bed.”
“You should know … you may have noticed—”
“That you are still a virgin. Si, Elena, this I sensed from the day we first met. It would be my pleasure to escort you to the other side.”
“Easier said than done, w hat if I’m not ready?”
“ You will be, I promise.”
What more could he have said . Or me, other than to lift the sheet and say with a smile, “Permission granted.
***
Lorenzo did not disappoint me; in fact he overwhelmed me in ways I’d only imagined until that night and well into the next morning. Nor had I ever imagined myself sharing a lemon-filled bath with him and yet we did, along with a single Bellini we took turns drinking with our arms linked, my back pressed into his chest. A moment so delicious I didn’t want it to end, so intimate I wanted to keep it in my heart forever. I wasn’t sure how Lorenzo felt until he set the empty glass on the floor.
He leaned in closer, kissed the hollow of my neck, and said, “Perhaps you would consider extending your holiday even longer.”
“ I teach school.”
“So you told me.”
“My students—”
“ Won’t miss you as much as I would; stay with me, please.”
For how long, I want ed to ask, but instead said, “I’ll have to think about it.”
Saved by the bell, in this case the ringing of a phone, Lorenzo grumbled a merda under his breath, the first I’d heard from him. He stepped out of the tub, grabbed his phone, and walked naked from the bathroom. I slid down into the water, only stopping when a lemon slice tickled my chin. Never had I felt so fulfilled, so loved. Living in Italy with Lorenzo, no problem, but first we’d have to get married. After all, I did have certain standards and was still an old-fashioned Catholic from an old-fashioned family who tolerated Margo but didn’t approve of her lifestyle. Ellen Savino Gentili … Elena Savino Gentili … yes, I could handle a change of name, a change of country.
Minutes later Lorenzo returned with a towel wrapped about his mid-section and a concerned expression on his face. “I must go to La Spezia, today,” he said. “A problem has developed with my business, unfortunately, one that cannot be resolved over the telephone. But please do not worry; I shall return as soon as possible.”
He opened a second towel, wrapped it around me as soon as I stepped out of the tub. He knelt down and kissed the bruises from my accident, just as he’d done earlier with kisses exploring my body. His tongue traveled upward to my mouth, opening it with a kiss every bit as passionate as those during the night. I didn’t want him to leave, but couldn’t find the right words to express my feelings. Instead I took the martyr approach.
“Don’t hurry back on my account.
“A matter of business that could not wait until morning,” he replied. “Since we’d already said our goodnights, I did not think it necessary to explain myself further.”
“That’s for sure. I’m only a guest and not your keeper.”
He placed one hand over mine that was clutching the cover. “You’re shaking. Would you allow me to comfort you?”
“Maybe some night music, you know, Andrea Bocelli.”
Lorenzo picked up a remote sitting on the night stand—one I hadn’t noticed before—gave the remote a click, and within moments the soothing voice of Bocelli filled the room.
“Lovely,” I said. “Who’s he singing with.”
“Dolce Pontes, if I’m not mistaken.”
“Two singing as one, nice.”
“There are many things two can do as one,” he said.
“Uh-huh, so I’ve heard.” Thanks to Margo.
He took a step back, as if preparing to leave. “Is there anything else I can do for you, Elena.”
“That depends.” A lump had formed in my throat. Yet I managed to ask, “What did you have in mind?”
“Only what you agree to. We could start with you inviting me into your bed.”
“You should know … you may have noticed—”
“That you are still a virgin. Si, Elena, this I sensed from the day we first met. It would be my pleasure to escort you to the other side.”
“Easier said than done, w hat if I’m not ready?”
“ You will be, I promise.”
What more could he have said . Or me, other than to lift the sheet and say with a smile, “Permission granted.
***
Lorenzo did not disappoint me; in fact he overwhelmed me in ways I’d only imagined until that night and well into the next morning. Nor had I ever imagined myself sharing a lemon-filled bath with him and yet we did, along with a single Bellini we took turns drinking with our arms linked, my back pressed into his chest. A moment so delicious I didn’t want it to end, so intimate I wanted to keep it in my heart forever. I wasn’t sure how Lorenzo felt until he set the empty glass on the floor.
He leaned in closer, kissed the hollow of my neck, and said, “Perhaps you would consider extending your holiday even longer.”
“ I teach school.”
“So you told me.”
“My students—”
“ Won’t miss you as much as I would; stay with me, please.”
For how long, I want ed to ask, but instead said, “I’ll have to think about it.”
Saved by the bell, in this case the ringing of a phone, Lorenzo grumbled a merda under his breath, the first I’d heard from him. He stepped out of the tub, grabbed his phone, and walked naked from the bathroom. I slid down into the water, only stopping when a lemon slice tickled my chin. Never had I felt so fulfilled, so loved. Living in Italy with Lorenzo, no problem, but first we’d have to get married. After all, I did have certain standards and was still an old-fashioned Catholic from an old-fashioned family who tolerated Margo but didn’t approve of her lifestyle. Ellen Savino Gentili … Elena Savino Gentili … yes, I could handle a change of name, a change of country.
Minutes later Lorenzo returned with a towel wrapped about his mid-section and a concerned expression on his face. “I must go to La Spezia, today,” he said. “A problem has developed with my business, unfortunately, one that cannot be resolved over the telephone. But please do not worry; I shall return as soon as possible.”
He opened a second towel, wrapped it around me as soon as I stepped out of the tub. He knelt down and kissed the bruises from my accident, just as he’d done earlier with kisses exploring my body. His tongue traveled upward to my mouth, opening it with a kiss every bit as passionate as those during the night. I didn’t want him to leave, but couldn’t find the right words to express my feelings. Instead I took the martyr approach.
“Don’t hurry back on my account.
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