Story of Us trilogy 01: TouchStone for Play (43 page)

Through gritted teeth he stakes his claim.
“You belong to me, now” He rolls his hips and I cry out, feeling him sinking
further into my core. “Say it.”

“I … I belong to you.”

With that I come loud and hard, gripping
every inch of him until he explodes in a savage cry of liberation, pumping into
me again and again.

Any doubt about this man’s love for me
evaporates, along with my fear he would love me any less, knowing the truth
about my past. Today, I’ve seen him out of control, powerless, coming undone.
And he thinks I’m the submissive one is this relationship?

As Ayden would say ... we’ll see.

***

Getting ready takes less time than
anticipated, it’s just a case of redressing and freshening up. With time to
spare, I text Charlie:

Having a great time in Rome, hotel suite
is as big as our apartments put together and the view is amazing. We’re off 2 C
sights now. Wish you were here. Beth X

Her reply is instantaneous:

I hate you!  Suite, Rome, sights next
thing you’ll be telling me the bloody weather is fantastic and the men are
gorgeous! Seriously, hon have fun.  How’s Mr. P shaping up? Is he keeping you
well serviced ;) C. X

I smile at her reply but decide not to play
into her hands by responding. I throw my phone into my bag. I have an idea.
Quickly I scroll through my iPod and find the one song that sets the record
straight and place it back into the dock.

Ayden is sitting in the lounge waiting
patiently, it’s ten o’clock.

“Sorry I took so long.” I grab my black
Armani jacket and plonk myself down on the arm of the sofa next to him.

“I’ll get my sweater.” He squeezes my knee
affectionately as he passes.

“You might want to press play,” I call
out. Immediately I hear the song. The words are very poignant. Will Young sings
‘
happy now
,’ and sums up exactly how I feel. I lean back to assess his
reaction; he has his back to me, his right hand clutching his sweater the other
in his pocket. He’s listening.

The music stops and he returns to the
lounge. “You did it again, you touched my heart with one of your songs.” He
threads his free hand under my collar, through my hair and plants a delicious
kiss on my mouth. “Thank you.” He rubs noses. “Let’s go.”

Hand in hand, we take the lift and descend
to the ground floor, giving me time to fix my hat.

“Very cute.” Is all he says and, it’s all
I need to hear.

We stroll through reception into the
exclusive Stravinskij Bar for our rendezvous with Signorina Magnani. She’s our
private Tour Guide.

I scan the atmospheric space and take in
its easy sophistication: mauve furnishings, mood lighting and abstract wall
art. I feel under-dressed, again. Seated on the soft chairs, are an array of
people: guests waiting for flights, businessmen on laptops, middle-aged film
star types wearing dark glasses and a lone woman sipping espresso from a fine
china cup. Even from behind I estimate she’s borderline model material. When
she turns, sensing our arrival, I am in no doubt. She’s stunning. I shift my
attention to Ayden, he’s noticed her too.

As we approach, I see she has a small
netbook open and just visible is our book launch photograph and news story. She’s
checking Ayden out. My animosity towards this woman peaks; every nerve in my
body is super-charged. She has brains and beauty
and
ambition. What a
very challenging set of attributes to be faced with.

Up close I assess her; she must be around
five nine, hazelnut hair and matching eyes, framed by long dark lashes. When
she stands, she has legs which are disproportionately long for her height. Her
jeans must be made to measure and her coffee coloured T shirt, well, it’s
indecently clingy. I take an instant dislike to her and, it’s not surprising:
her middle name is Temptation.

Ayden reaches out for her hand, “Signorina
Magnani, I assume?”

“Ah yes, Mr. Stone, what a pleasure to
meet you, I’m Cara.” By the way she greets Ayden, I realise something: I’m
about to meet my second adversary. With seductive eyes, she assesses him at the
speed of light. I break her concentration by offering her
my
hand.

“Signorina Magnani, I’m Miss Parker, Beth.
I believe you will be conducting our tour today?”

“Of course. Good morning. Are you ready?”

Don’t I look ready, I’m wearing a hat and
a jacket, surely that’s a big enough clue?

“I think we are,” Ayden interjects, fixing
me with an inquisitive stare.

“Sure, why not?” I turn and lead the way
towards the reception. Cara raises her hand and wafts an instruction to the
doorman to bring the car around.

“It is over three kilometres to the
Colosseo, so we will take the car. Please ...” She holds out her perfectly
manicured hand to Ayden. “Your limousine is outside Mr. Stone.”

Yes, we all know it’s his car.

In a gentlemanly fashion Ayden allows me
to enter the car first. I wonder if it’s so he can sit between us but when she
opens the other door and sits up front, I treat myself to a grateful smile.
This is probably one of those rare occasions when I’m happy to sit back and let
Ayden’s condescension keep the congenial Cara in her place.

He leans across to me and takes my hand.
“Ok?”

“Sure, I’m looking forward to seeing the
sights, aren’t you?”

He gives my hand a squeeze. “I mean are
you
ok?”

From the way he’s tipping down his chin,
he must be referring to our post breakfast, fast and furious fuck.

I mirror his sensuous stare and slip my
thumb nail between my teeth. “Why wouldn’t I be? I-Belong-To-You.”

He takes my thumb from my mouth but cannot
hold-off on a sexy smile. “Yes
you
do.”

Here I sit with a neat pile of hands on my
lap, trying to suppress a giggle. This is going to be an interesting day.

***

The tour gets underway with the monumental
Colosseum; the four storey structure is in the heart of piazza del Colosseo, it
stands before us at the end of a wide road, surrounded by popular trees. It’s
bigger than I imagined and the sunlight on the brickwork creating shadows and
crevices, adds to its charm. Cara escorts us over to the entrance, by-passing
the queue of impatient tourists. She shows the security man her pass and we
make our way beneath the arches and take a step back in time.

“It was built in 80AD and could house over
50,000 people who came to watch the gladiators’ battles. Sometimes beast were
introduced to ...”

And on she goes with more dates,
statistics and smiles when all I want to say it “arrivederci!” The best part is
the photo opportunities; Ayden has his phone and I have my digital camera and
we never stop clicking.

One kilometre down Via dei Fori Imperiali,
sits the massive ruins of the Roman Forum, the once corporate heart of the
city. The mighty pillars stand tall and imposing but make for stunning
photographs. Thankfully, Cara has less to say and leaves us to wander, climb
and imagine how it must have looked in its prime.

Twelve long minutes away is Capitoline
Hill along the Piazza del Camidoglio, the headquarters of current day Italian
Government. These three stunning buildings, dating back to the 16th century,
were designed by Michelangelo; including the impressive Cordonata, the
staircase leading from the bottom of the hill to the beautiful square. It is
adorned with granite statues of Egyptian lions at the foot and two large classical
statues of Castor and Pollux at the top: a perfect backdrop for more remarkable
photographs.

With weary feet and only half way through
our tour, we reach the Pantheon. It’s a glorious temple to the Gods which goes
back to 27BC. Sixteen pink granite columns welcome us into the vestibule,
antique bronze doors try but can’t hold back time or the hundreds of tourists
flooding through to inspect the tombs of ancient kings and queens. The dome
opens up and what a breath-taking sight. To think, over the past 2,000 years,
countless feet have walked exactly where we’re walking. The scent of the
multitude clings to the ancient stones like lichen. The building is a feat of
engineering and a memorable sight for us both.

Cara takes our photograph and I sense she’s
wishing our roles were reversed. Thankfully, Ayden suggests a coffee break. I
suspect his phone is vibrating in his pocket and he needs to attend to it but,
whatever his reason, I welcome it. Cara knows just the place.

The Tempio Bar overlooks the Pantheon and
could be considered our half way house. I order caffè con panna for Ayden and I
before heading off to powder my nose. I want a couple of minutes to myself.

It’s been a while since I’ve experienced
the noise and fervour of a foreign city; our boat hole has been a wonderful
sanctuary. Here there are so many distractions, not least of all Signorina
Magnani. Ayden has absolutely no interest in her but, I have to confess, she
does disturb the peace. It must be difficult for her too, she can’t have met many
multi-millionaire,
former
playboys who look like him. Having said that,
this tour would be so much better without her. My challenge is coming up with a
justifiable reason to send her packing, without appearing like a jealous bitch.
Something will come to me.

The toilets are adequate and I wash my
hands and check myself. I look ok, just ok. Time to raise my game. A dash of
mascara and lipgloss is as much as I can do, without looking like I’ve made too
much of an effort. I don’t want her to think I feel threatened by her ample
bosom and seductive smile. This really is something I will have to get used to.
Ayden is doing nothing wrong, other than looking utterly irresistible.

I weave my way through the cafe, stopping
in my tracks when I see her leaning across the table, coveting another woman’s
lover. My lover. I can’t see her face but her body language speaks volumes. I
shift my gaze to Ayden. He’s responding with his polite smile, deploying it
with the precision of a guided missile, but she couldn’t possibly know that.
She’s mistaking it for weakness or responsiveness: poor Cara, if only she knew.
I stand and keep watch, he doesn’t need rescuing, he’s in his element. Women
like Cara are his specialty.

He is pretending to read a map of Rome
when I return. Immediately Cara’s back straightens and she adheres it to the
rear of her chair. Our coffees arrive and Ayden sticks his finger into the
whipped cream and gives me
the
look, but I have no inclination to play.
I need my wits about me. I launch a
‘don’t you dare’
stare and look
away. He licks the foam off his finger slowly while I roll my eyes reprovingly
and watch him stifle an intimate smile. I know what you’re doing Mr. P.

Cara moves away to the right of us but not
out of ear shot. “Please excuse me, I have to make a call. Enjoy your coffee.”
While Ayden checks his texts and emails on his phone, I listen in and what an
entertaining piece of banter it is.

Even with my limited knowledge of the
language, I get the gist:
“un magnifico milionario... (a magnificent millionaire)
molto semplice (very plain) ... Mi piace (I like)... Io gli do il mio
numero.(Giving him my number)

I’ve heard enough and have all the
ammunition I need. I take out my phone and turn to Ayden, “There’s a lovely
restaurant I’d like to visit, it has rave reviews and a great lunch menu. Shall
we go?”

He looks a little puzzled. “Now?”

“No, it’s near the Spanish Steps, where
our tour ends. I have the number here, I found it on the internet before we
came.” I scroll down my contacts and find the number for Nero. I touch his knee
and lean over to him. “Do you want to play?” I lift my brows.

“Does it involve the soon to be leaving
Signorina Magnani?”

“It does. Watch her face.”

“If I must.” He grins cheekily, making me
even more determined to go ahead with my devious plan.

She seats herself. “Mi scusi. Are you
ready to see the wonderful Fontana Di Trevi?”

“Not quite, give me a moment. I have to
make a call.” I remain seated and punch in the local number.” Ayden places his
thumb and forefinger around his chin in quiet contemplation; he’s taking great
delight in watching me execute my plan.

An elderly gentleman answers on the fourth
ring. “Ciao, Vorrei un tavolo per due per favore.(Hello, I would like a table
for two please.)
Per
le due e mezza per favore. (For two thirty, please)

In nome di Parker. Grazie.” (In the name
of Parker. Thank you.)

I return my phone to my bag, and focus on
Cara. She cannot hide her embarrassment. She realises I understood her less
than complementary conversation with her friend: game set and match, I think
Signorina Magnani.

Ayden stands unexpectedly and towers over
me in my chair; he places his hands on the wrought iron arms and tips me back
slightly. I can’t help but look up at him. What the hell is he doing?