Home > life, writing > A Time To Fly (11)

A Time To Fly (11)

“I hope you’re not upset with me,” Vince said as he sat down at the table with Belinda.  “I couldn’t resist surprising you.”

       “Well, it was lovely, but still quite upsetting,” she said.  “You know very well that I was nervous about the age spread and racial differences, and still you subjected me to….”

        “To what?” he said.  “To a good time, some fun, some surprises, a ride in the wind through the streets of Rome, the admiration of many men?  I do not apologise!”  Vince turned his face away in a gesture of immature resentment.  Belinda regretted at once her words.  She reached out and put her hand on his arm.

        “I’m sorry, Vincenzo,” she said.  “Of course you are right.  It has been wonderful, and I am very grateful to you for choosing to share this pleasure with me.  He turned and looked into her eyes with his smouldering look.

       “I hope to share many more pleasures with you,” he said.  “If you will permit me.”  He stood up and kissed her hand again, and a ripple of applause rolled through the room.  “Please excuse me for a few minutes again.”  As he ascended the steps to the stage, the band played the introduction to their next song.

The evening passed quickly.  Belinda sat at the front table and sipped wine.  After two hours, while Vincenzo was starting his second show a waiter brought a tray of cheeses and biscuits to her table.  Belinda didn’t feel the need to eat, except for her eyes, eating up Vincenzo Taglioni no matter if he was at the table with her, or up on the stage singing to her.  She felt herself yielding more and more to his youthful vigour and charm.  She began to argue with herself in favour of having sex with this young man – if he wanted her.

 Belinda was sure that Vince used his looks and charm to win the passion of many women… perhaps especially foreigners alone in Rome.  She reasoned that she was only in Rome for a short time, she was totally unknown here, and it was probably her last chance to cut loose.  After these few weeks, she will return home to the loneliness of her empty bed.  So why not enjoy this fabulous young man while she could?  Why not enjoy Rome and its Romans.  She was, after all, forty years old and certain to never be thirty again.

 The apparent absence of a colour barrier was a new and exciting experience for Belinda.  In the past, only black men had attempted to seduce her.  To be pursued by this stunning young man after the new experiences she had with Giuseppi was the opportunity of a lifetime.  It was time to indulge herself in the freedom to enjoy her body.  Anna’s lovemaking was also a first for Belinda.  She had never had a lesbian experience, and although she had to admit she had enjoyed the woman’s sexual expertise, she was not sure she would want to experience it again.

 Only a few stragglers were still in the club when Belinda left with Vincenzo.  He had performed his third and final show and after a brief chat with the club owner, they went out to the Vespa.  They buzzed through the empty streets of Rome in the wee small hours until Vincenzo pulled up in front of Belinda’s hotel.  She slid off the scooter’s rear seat and put her arms around Vince while he sat astride the scooter.  She kissed his eyelids quickly, then pressed her broad mouth to his, and parted her lips to accept his tongue.  They separated, and Belinda pressed her cheek to his and spoke softly into his ear.

        “Would you like to come up to my room… please,” she said.  Vincenzo put the scooter up on its stand, took her hand, and walked into the hotel with her.  In the elevator he kissed her again, and put his hand under her blouse to caress her bare breasts.  She shivered and leaned back against the wall of the elevator until it stopped at her floor and she quickly controlled herself and strode to her door and opened it.  The room was in darkness except for pale light from the street outside because the curtains were pulled back leaving the large window open to the city view.  Vincenzo followed Belinda into the room, and while she was closing and locking the door, her removed his shirt.  Belinda turned and saw his wonderful chest and immediately shed her blouse and went to him to press her bare breasts against his bare chest while they kissed again.  They quickly shed their clothes and tumbled onto the bed.  The lights of the city cast patterns of light and shadow across their bodies on the pale blue blanket.  Vincenzo’s skin, although tanned, contrasted sharply with Belinda’s black body.  Her skin shone warmly in the glow from the street below.  They lay together, locked in each other’s arms, undulating in a slow, mutual ritual of love.

 Each in turn explored the other’s body.  First Vincenzo lay on his side and caressed Belinda from her head to her feet.  He buried his fingers in her thick black hair with its traces of silver, and massaged her scalp lightly.  She lay on her back, arms up over her head while she watched Vince’s eyes focus on her as he moved his hand down over her face.  She had never before felt a man’s hand travel lightly over her face.  The feeling of trust and extreme intimacy engulfed her as Vince caressed her eyelids lightly with his thumbs, traced the shape of her nose and lips with his forefinger.  He moved his hand down over her throat and rested it on her breastbone while he leaned over to kiss each eyelid before he pressed his lips to hers.

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