An Apartment in Venice (13 page)

“I’m surprised and a little jealous that he told you so much. More than he’s ever told me.” She sighed. “I suppose it’s because I’m female; my dad confided in his sons more than me, too. Obviously you impressed Nonno Tony in a huge way. But why should I be surprised. You impress—”

A loud, tinny voice overrode Giulia’s and announced they’d be going back to Venice because of a washout ahead.

It was nine p.m. They’d almost reached Padova, and now the train was inching backward. Rain pounded against the windows. The sheet lightning that had followed them for most of the trip had now become electric forks streaking toward the earth. A crack of thunder followed each fork and Giulia scooted closer to Chuck. Finally, at Dolo, one of several small villages between Padova and Venice, the train came to a switching area and stopped. The conductor came through to explain that the engine would be unhooked and moved to a siding where it would hitch onto the other end of the train. Soon they were on their way again, facing forward.

“Good. It won’t be long now,” Giulia said. “Do trains ever get hit by lightning?”

“Never heard of it.”

“Why is it moving so slowly?”

“Maybe the engineer is being overly cautious—I would be.”

Whatever the reason, they didn’t arrive back in Venice until almost eleven and had no idea if they’d make it to the base the next morning.

As they neared Chuck’s building, Giulia felt uncomfortable—shy even. Should she opt for the spare room? Did he still want her to share his bed?
Foolish woman. He seduced you.
No. It was time to be honest with herself. She hadn’t been seduced. It was obvious he wanted her from the moment they met, and she could have taken a firm stand as she’d done many times with other men. As long as she was being honest, why not admit she’d wanted him from the first? Ever since she bumped into him, restless feelings kept pushing against her carefully constructed shield. She felt torn. Should she step on through or try to rebuild?

She felt almost naked without that shield, and now that Chuck had managed to have his way with her…
Holy moly, where’d that come from?
But what if he
didn’t
want her anymore?

In spite of his large umbrella and her long raincoat, they were both soaked and shivering when they reached his door. “Does a long, hot bath sound good to you?” he asked.

“Oh yes. I’ve been thinking about that big tub in your bathroom. But could I wash out some things for tomorrow first?”

“Sure.” They left their shoes and coats hanging on hooks above the stone floor at the entryway, and he led her to a small laundry area where she saw a compact washer, dryer and a utility sink. “Wait a sec,” he said. “Let me make sure this isn’t full of grit: sometimes I rinse hiking boots here.” He also extended a wooden rack mounted on the wall for drying things.

This man is organized.
“Did your mom teach you how to cook and keep things in such good order?”

“She didn’t have time.” He checked the dryer and turned it on. “She had four kids to raise—actually five, counting Dad, the sloppiest of all. Dad’s mother took me under her wing. She didn’t live long enough to give much to my siblings… Guess the military did the rest.”

“Did your Czech grandmother speak English?”

“Babička? Hardly any. She had her ways with a kid though. You know. Cookies, getting to lick frosting bowls, stirring stuff on the stove. Didn’t take long to catch on to kitchen Czech. Later I studied a little on my own.”

“Ba… bitchka?” Giulia said. “Is that spelled with odd marks over the consonants and no vowels?”

He laughed and hugged her. “You’re cold. I’ll explain later. I better check that bath water. When you finish, bring the warm towels out of the dryer.”

The bathroom was steamy, and he was already in the oversized tub when Giulia entered wrapped in one of the warm, giant-sized towels. She tried to climb into the tub while holding the towel around herself. Chuck leaned back, watching. Grinning. They’d made love a few hours ago, and here she was all modest and maidenly.

“Give it up, Micina. Can’t be done. I’ve seen you naked you know.”

“You’re right,” she dipped her head, smiled through unruly curls flopping onto her forehead and dropped the towel.

Which was more beautiful, he wondered? Her face and unique eyes? Her soft dark curls with those tawny glints? Her full breasts with pinkish-brown nipples? Her soft, sexy little belly? Or that curly dark triangle at the juncture of those beautiful firm thighs?

“God, Giulia. You’re so beautiful. Quick, climb in and get rid of those goose bumps. I want to be the one to put them there, not the storm.”

She slid slowly into the hot water. With a huge sigh, she visibly let go, dropping her shoulders and easing the tensions in her neck. He still didn’t know what triggered these times when she pulled into herself as if trying to disappear. He couldn’t believe it was about that long-ago abortion. But he knew from talking with his sister that women who chose that route didn’t always find it easy to live with.
Time. She needs time. And I need time to move closer.

Both of them were relaxed and drowsy when they reached his larger than king-sized bed. They slid under the sea-green duvet, and Chuck wanted to make love to her so gently she’d never have doubts about trusting him. Maybe he could hold off, not climax if that’s what it took. In their short time together, her genuine response to him had been intensely arousing and gratifying, but this time, he wanted it to be all about her.

As he kissed her mouth, he caressed her warm breasts, stroked down her sweet belly to the velvety folds between her legs. He continued kissing her neck, all around her ears and nibbled her left ear lobe to see if she’d have the same reaction as before. She squiggled and arched into him. He grinned to himself, then shifted on top of her, parting her legs with his knee and eased between them. He guided himself to her opening and pushed in—but only a little. It took all the control he could muster not to pound into her, but instead, waited for her body to adjust.

Gradually her hips began to move to meet him, then she dug her fingers into his shoulders. God he loved when she did that. He scarcely moved. But when her inner muscles tightened around his cock, he felt his own hot blood on the move. The pulse in her throat was hammering, but he wanted this to last all night. As his own orgasm began to build, he slowed even more and conjured dull service reports until the urgency eased a bit.

To gain her trust, he wanted to establish a strong bond. A bond of unconditional acceptance. It might only be a hunch, but he sensed Tony was right, something dark had caused her to withdraw and guard herself from everyone—even her parents and beloved grandparents. Chuck believed the joining of their bodies was a way to forge that bond. Not only a sexual binding, he thought, but maybe a primal pathway toward comfort and connection.

He noticed tensions loosen. They seemed to slide down her torso inch by inch. He even felt it in her legs wrapped around him. As if her body was saying she trusted him to pleasure her with no pay back. He thrust deeply and held until he felt her climax building. He’d been on the edge too long. When her inner muscles tightened around him, molten lava gathered at the base of his spine and hot, stinging streams began to move. He resisted the powerful urge to thrust again and again. Instead, he held deep and steady for her. When she cried out his name—like a stranger sneaking from behind—his own pleasure spread slowly through him like hot, thick honey.

* * *

As he showered and shaved Friday morning, Chuck couldn’t stop thinking about what might have happened last night. Had she let down some barriers as they made love? Or had that perceived openness been merely his wishful imagination? Her response to his every touch made him feel like the greatest stud in the Western world. Even if she had felt some sort of bonding, he vowed to not push her to discuss it. Time. Maybe time would work its magic.

“Hey there, sleepy head,” he said carrying a cup of coffee with a few drops of thick cream stirred in the way she liked it.

“I’ve been sleeping a lot lately. Do your walls exhale magic vapor?” she asked, reaching for the cup and grabbing the sheet to cover herself as she sat up. He wanted to snatch that cover and slip back in with her while her hair was tousled and her skin rosy.

“Could be,” he said. “Something magic seems to be happening.” He tried not to look like a supplicant who had crawled on his knees over jagged stones to her altar.

“Mmm, the coffee at Karlo’s is outstanding like all else offered here.” Her smile was radiant. She turned toward the windows. “Is it still raining?”

“Nah. Just the normal Venetian mist. By the way, I called the base. All classes—except a few military procedure sessions—have been cancelled. If you need to get back, the road by car may be passable, otherwise we could hang here and continue searching for apartments.”

“Might as well. I need to do a bit of personal shopping, though.”

“No problem. We can do that.”

“I can do my own shopping for a blouse and underwear, thank you.”

“Si, si, Signorina.” He grinned, swept his arm in a grand arc and bowed as he backed out of the room. He heard her snickering as he went down the hall to swing by the laundry room for a new bottle of dish detergent. At the sight of lacy lingerie draped on the wooden rod, he felt a surprising contentment.

After breakfast, they printed out more listings and plotted the best course to avoid backtracking. At the first address, the person let them in. But Giulia knew immediately it wasn’t for her. With a slight roll of her eyes toward Chuck, they were out of there in minutes. No one answered at the second. At the third, the person who came to the door wasn’t at all happy to learn that her place might be rented out from under her.

By mid-afternoon, Giulia had narrowed the listings to two apartments, both near the church of San Raffaele. The small church had been closed for inside restoration for two or three years. Soon, she thought, she’d get inside to see the famed frescoes by the Guardi brothers, depicting the apocryphal tale of Tobias and the Archangel Raffaele.

As they sipped coffee in a quiet bar, Chuck suggested it might be quicker to deal with an agent who would have better information than the tenants.

“Do you know any agents who deal in rentals?” she asked.

“No, but Marc’s more of a wheeler-dealer than I am. Let’s see if he’s in town and what he knows.” He pulled out his cell.

“While you do that, I’ll look into that small shop on the other side of the rio and pick up a couple of items.”

“Good idea.” He grinned and tried to make his eyebrows dance as he’d seen Marc do so effortlessly. “By the way, pale blue is nice.”

She laughed. “Blue, huh?” and walked away.

* * *

The next morning they reached an agent, who Marc had suggested. She agreed to show the two apartments and met them in the afternoon at Campo Santa Margherita, the amoeba-shaped campo frequented by students from the nearby University of Venice. The first property wasn’t bad, but the view mentioned in the ad was non-existent. The other, though, was much more enticing. But the woman who owned it lived in Calabria, and before the agent could go further, she needed to be contacted. Giulia left her cell number and they called it a day.

After showers and leisurely lovemaking, he took her to a small restaurant called
La Zucca,
the pumpkin. It was only a few steps from the large Campo San Giacomo dell’Orio where Giulia had often sat on a bench to watch children kick a soccer ball against the back of the old church. She’d thought about living near that campo because it was quiet. Each time she’d gone there, she’d seldom seen bothersome tourists. Back then, she’d felt like a snob to think that way, since she’d been a tourist herself. But now she’d be a resident and maybe a citizen. Surely she’d have a legitimate reason to complain about the hoards who descend on the city year after year.

Zucca was not strictly a vegetarian restaurant, but it was clear from the menu that serious attention was paid to veggies. Giulia decided to order their specialty, a flan made of zucca, potatoes, broccoli and smoked ricotta cheese. Chuck ordered rabbit cooked in prosecco. That sounded strange but they both found it to be delicious. A side dish of candied squash similar to Thanksgiving-style candied sweet potatoes came with his order. Chuck passed on the
dolci,
but Giulia ate every bite of a cake made with pear and ginger.

When they returned to Chuck’s apartment, she washed her face, brushed her teeth with a new toothbrush and fell into bed. When he joined her, she had already drifted asleep. He slid in beside her, gently turned her on her side and spooned around her soft body, once again feeling a serene contentment.

* * *

Sunday the trains were running again. As they settled into a crowded compartment, Giulia sat in a window seat with him next to her.

“Suppose my students will have their essays finished given all the extra time they’ve had?”

“Don’t count on it.”

“By the way, you still owe me an explanation of how the Czechs spell grandmother.”

“Sure. The spelling is b-a-b-i-c-k-a. But the cee has a small accent over it like a little smile. I don’t know what to call that mark, but when it’s there, the cee sounds like tch, thus babicka becomes babitchka. Once you learn the sounds, the rest is easy.”

“Yeah sure,” she said with a little snort. “Those diacritical marks used in Slavic languages seem so… foreign.” She twisted her hand in the air.

“Well… yeah,” he said chuckling.

She laughed, too. “You’ve described your Czech nonna as forgiving and tolerant, like lots of grandmothers.”

He sat back and sighed. “Not all. My Italian nonna never quite forgave my mother for marrying a Czech or maybe anyone not Italian. She and my sister were on good terms, but she didn’t have much use for us boys. Maybe we reminded her too much of Dad.”

“It’s never fair to blame children for parents’ foibles.”

“Foibles! My dad’s treatment of Mom was more than foibles.”

“Tell me.”

He turned his broad shoulders and back to the rest of the compartment creating a sort of barrier and put his arms around her as they faced the window. “An old story,” he said in hushed tones. “I guess Dad was bitter about how his life turned out. I never knew. But he drank too much and took it out on her.”

“Did she ever report him?”

“I wish she would have. Maybe if her father had been living… no, probably not. She wouldn’t have wanted her family to know.”