by Anna Premoli
I’m doomed and I know it: I can’t resist a guy who has the courage to say what he thinks loud and clear without being ashamed of who he is.
“But in any case, you should seriously learn to relax and not give too much importance to it,” he advises.
“Bertha, we’re in bloody Portofino! Dining by candlelight with the moon reflecting on the sea! Where I come from, that’s known as going completely over the top!”
He just shrugs, completely indifferent to my agitation. “We had to eat, didn’t we?” he asks in a pragmatic tone. “And the risotto and sea bream are excellent here.”
The sly bastard...
“Can I at least pay my half?” I beg him. That way I would feel more in control of the situation.
Ariberto bursts out laughing but then, sensing it was actually a serious question, looks me in the face.
“To use your words, over my dead body.”
“Ari …” I plead, trying to reason with him.
“Ari nothing, I’m not interested. You are just going to have to get used to the idea that I enjoy having the opportunity to spoil you once in a while. And that I would like to continue doing so, if you’ll let me.”
His tone is solemn. I have the impression he is talking about much more than dinner.
“Bertha, you have no idea of the hornets’ nest you’re getting yourself into,” I grunt.
“Oh I do. Believe me I do. But I’m no pushover either. And anyway, what’s life without a good challenge to face?” And so saying he steals a shrimp from my plate.
And with that, the discussion – for the moment, at least – seems to have ended.
*
We return home a little tipsy and with full stomachs. In silence, we climb the stairs that lead to the apartment on the first floor, in the hope of not disturbing the neighbour’s sleep. Ari was right: the old woman acts like she’s a former KGB agent or something, and definitely seems to have an unhealthy interest in other people’s business. When she handed us the keys at lunchtime, she practically gave us the third degree. We managed to wriggle out of most of her questions, but she didn’t look like the type who is going to give up without a fight. If it weren’t that people of her age usually go to bed early, we would definitely have found her door ajar and her peering out waiting for us.
“Bertha, getting me drunk was not fair...” I complain while I throw myself down on the sofa in his living room, which is furnished tastefully in white and blue, giving it a very seaside-ey feeling. My parents would definitely like the Castelli family’s interior designer.
“What do you mean, drunk? You’re just a bit tipsy. And a good part of the way you’re feeling isn’t even because of the wine,” he says.
“Ah really? And what is it because of, pray tell?” I ask with a laugh as I watch him sit down next to me. He reaches out and pulls me onto his lap as if I were a little girl.
“There’s only one reason for the way you feel,” he states. “Me.” Then he gives me a hypnotic smile while he caresses first one of my cheeks and then the other.
“Modest, eh?”
“Modesty is totally overrated,” he murmurs and then kisses me. Modesty is certainly overrated when it comes to his lips: I’ve never known anyone with such a beautiful mouth, who was so talented at kissing: he ought to give seminars on how to do it or something. After feasting at length on my lips, he rests his forehead against mine. “It only seems fair for me to warn you that I intend to vent some repressed desires, but remember that you can stop me at any time. You only have to say the word,” he murmurs, before licking my neck. Then he starts nibbling on the lobe of my ear, causing me to make a strangled sound. I instinctively grab his head and pull it back to my mouth until his tongue is once again between my lips. For the first time, one of Ari’s hands makes its way under my shirt and caresses my belly for a long time before climbing up towards my breast. God, those hands of his are really electric.
“Okay?” he asks, looking at me for confirmation. If this moment was any more okay, I think I’d probably drop dead on the spot.
“Don’t talk, keep going,” I beg him.
He doesn’t need telling twice and start caressing me again. Since I believe in equality, I start unbuttoning his shirt. I get three buttons undone and put my hand inside: Ari’s skin is smooth and warm and very tempting. Not satisfied, I put my mouth on his chest and run my tongue repeatedly across it. He groans and then grabs my head, almost pulling me by the hair, and clamps his lips on my neck, which he proceeds to nibble.
I didn’t think he was the type for that kind of thing. His self-control is evidently crumbling and I, fool that I am, find this sudden power of mine pretty damn intoxicating.
I hear him chuckle. “Ooops, sorry... I let myself go a little. “
“There’s nothing to apologise for,” I reassure him.
“Great, so I can carry on then,” he murmurs in a sensual voice, going back to nibbling on my neck. I close my eyes and enjoy for a moment his wonderful smell and the feeling of his hands on me.
To hell with it all: we came here to have sex, that seems more than obvious. And as far as I’m concerned we should probably get down to it before I die of spontaneous human combustion.
I move away from him, get up, grab his hand and drag him with me towards the bedroom. We hadn’t gotten around to discussing the sleeping arrangements, but I think it was quite clear to both of us that we hadn’t come all this way to sleep in separate rooms. He might be a gentleman, but I’m certainly no lady. Since I met this guy, since I actually allowed him to get closer to me, I’ve been feeling an almost unprecedented attraction towards him. On paper he’s the last person I should desire, but our complicity is impossible to deny and I’m starting to get a little tired of living with this perennial sexual frustration. Whatever happens to us, I want to remember this evening and feel like I did the right thing. It’s obvious that anything between us won’t go anywhere – our personalities are just too different for it to work in the long run – but as long as we are here without any strange expectations of each other, nothing comes closer to perfection more than this moment.
“Giada?” he asks me doubtfully, but lets himself be led without resistance.
“I want you lying on a bed in all your splendour, okay?”
Preferably naked. I don’t say that aloud, but Ari seems to understand, because an extremely sensual smile appears on his lips. God, I’m losing my mind – I only hope I manage to find my way back to sanity once all this is over.
His hands reach me and surround me, and in less than no time I find myself in his arms: one of his fantasies must be about carrying his conquests in his arms.
“To begin with, you could lie down, what do you say?” he asks with a smile. He kicks the door open and then throws me onto the bed without much ceremony. I plunge in the middle of the big double bed. Before I’ve even had time to lift myself on my elbows, he is above me. His mouth is on mine in an instant, his body imprisoning me and his pelvis pressing against mine. All this is not what I expected from someone who seems as well-mannered as he does.
He gets up on his knees with the intention of completely unfastening his shirt, but I grab hold of his hands. “Don’t you dare, Bertha! I’ve been dreaming of this moment for ages and you’re not going to ruin it for me!” It seems I’ve developed some weird fetish about these tailored shirts of his. Life has a strange sense of humour sometimes... Let’s just hope that the idea that only stupid people never change their minds is actually true.
I reach out and finish undoing the last buttons, enjoying for a second the view of Ari with his shirt open. “Did you do a lot of sport as a child?” I ask in an impressed voice as I run a hand over his body.
“Swimming, volleyball, soccer, tennis... I was a restless type and apparently physical activity was the best way of keeping me under control,” he confesses, laughing.
At this moment I am very, very grateful to those years of sport: his body looks like a Greek sculpture, wit
h the notable difference that it smells delicious and is boiling hot.
“Well, apart from my tennis period, I’ve always been pretty lazy, so don’t go getting your expectations up too much, okay?” I warn him.
Ari takes off his shirt and throws it on the ground, then turns his eyes to my blouse and starts to raise it. I sit up and raise my arms to allow him to finish the job. I am nervous and breathing hard.
Since I don’t like being caught unprepared, I’m wearing a black lace bra that costed me a fortune. Lingerie provides the perfect demonstration of the paradox theory: the tinier and more transparent it is, the more it seems to cost. There’s absolutely no directly proportional relationship with the raw material. The economist in me is secretly scandalized.
“Oh, Giada...” murmurs a mesmerised Ari, immediately stretching out his hands.
Ok, maybe it was money well spent after all...
If he likes the bra, I’m curious to see how he reacts when we get to my matching thong. I’m not much of a fan of thongs so I’d like my good intentions to be rewarded with a decent display of contentment.
Ari slides his hand under the elastic of my leggings and quickly begins to pull them off, then moves up my legs, kissing every single inch, and lingering for a long time on the inside of my thigh and then on the edge of my thong. Sighing, I involuntarily close my eyes and clutch the sheets.
“This really isn’t fair...” I hear him murmur. He’s breathing as heavily as if he were running a marathon.
“You mean this lingerie?” I ask with satisfaction.
“I mean you inside this lingerie. You’re a sadist: I can hardly stop myself from biting you...” he confesses in an agonised voice.
“With what I paid for it, you’d better not!” I warn him, pretending to be indignant but actually rather moved.
I take advantage of the moment to hook him with one of my legs and pull us together, finding myself on top of him. “Hey, handsome,” I say, with satisfaction.
“Hey, gorgeous. By the way, have I told you how great you look with your hair this colour?” he asks, stroking my mane repeatedly. I feel weird with this colour – as though I’m naked. Much more naked than just being in my underwear makes me feel. I can’t decide whether the feeling is pleasant or not.
“Actually, no, you didn’t say anything...”
This morning, when he got out of the car and saw me, he gave me a smile so wide that for a moment it left me out of breath. But he hadn’t said anything until now. I was starting to suspect he wasn’t going to mention it.
“I was waiting for the right moment.”
“And is this it?”
“This, my dear Ms. Spikes, is the perfect moment.”
And so saying, he grabs me by the neck and pulls my mouth into contact with his. Without stopping kissing him, my hand approaches the belt of his pants and starts to undo it, then part of the button and zipper attachment. And then, rather shameless, it disappears into the elastic of his briefs.
“Ah, a briefs man!”
“I’m a boxer man usually, but I’ve had to change underwear since I met you. I’ve needed something a bit more... restraining...” he confesses, blushing. “It would have been embarrassing to walk around the office in constant state of... how shall I put it... attention?”
I burst out laughing.
“Have I been too explicit?” he laughs in turn.
My only answer is to let my hand slide even further inside and... oh, how interesting! That theory about big hands and feet might just have been scientifically proven.
“Giada...” he murmurs hoarsely, lowering his head to my neck.
I take advantage of the moment to finally get his jeans off once and for all, and they quickly join the other clothes on the floor. Black briefs... the boy has class.
Not wanting to be outdone, I return the favour by sliding my tongue from his toes to his navel, at which point, Ari regains control of the situation, pulling me back on top of him and clamping our mouths together. He rapidly finds the hook of my bra and impetuously pulls it off.
“Are you in a hurry?” I tease him.
“What do you think? I’ve been dreaming of doing this for months,” he mutters. He lifts me up and makes me lie on his back, kissing first one nipple and then the other. “This is even better than I’d imagined...”, he confesses while I sink my hands into his hair so as to keep him anchored to my breasts. Not that Ari shows any intention of leaving them, mind you, but I don’t see why I should risk it.
I arch my back to guarantee the best possible access to my body and then close my eyes and let myself enjoy the feeling of absolute bliss. If heaven really exists, it’s full of the kind of celestial choirs that are right now resonating in my ears.
“Would you think I was terribly shallow if I confessed to you that I’m really not sure I can hold out much longer?” he asks, raising himself so he can take off first my thong and then his briefs. But instead of going back to the attack, he lies down beside me, putting a few inches between us. As if to say, it’s up to you.
Is he kidding?! Back out of it now??? I swear, I’m almost tempted to burst out laughing, except that with him lying there naked next to me, there’s not much to laugh about. Oh no, right now I have only the utmost respect for Mr. Castelli.
“Ari, being shallow is definitely not one of your faults ...” I mutter and reach out in his direction.
But before I can touch him, he sits up. “Wait a minute!” he cries, and so saying disappears from the bed for a second and starts rummaging through our clothes on the floor. He finds his jeans and takes from the pocket a condom in lemon-yellow packaging.
“Don’t tell me they’re the ones from Amsterdam!” I laugh.
“Of course they’re the ones from Amsterdam,” he confirms. “But just because it’s fruit-flavoured doesn’t mean that I expect you to... I mean... errrr …” He stops in embarrassment, undecided on how to proceed. Classic Ari: one minute he’s a caveman, the next he’s blushing like a schoolgirl, and the combination is almost irresistible.
“I understand,” I hasten to reassure him. “Don’t worry. But just out of curiosity, have you only got one of those things?”
“No, there are more in my suitcase, this one only happened to be within easy reach. Let’s just say I didn’t want to look too much like I was thinking I was onto a sure thing...”
“Ari, if there’s one thing that for some perverse reason I actually appreciate about you, it’s your megalomania,” I tease him. “Don’t you dare start getting hesitant right now!”
“Ok, so no being hesitant,” he murmurs, kissing me first on the mouth, then on the neck, then on the breast, then on the navel, and then even lower. Ariberto Castelli seems to have as many talents as he has surnames apparently.
“Bertha, this is all totally wrong,” I say, almost sobbing with pleasure.
“Life is a spinning wheel,” he replies with satisfaction, raising his head to look at me. The expression on his face is delicious and his eyes are shining mischievously.
“Oh really?” I say, grabbing his arm and watching him fall on the bed beside me. I push him onto his back and straddle him. For a moment neither of us says anything, but we understand each other perfectly. I reach out a hand towards him. “So where’s this condom, then?”
Ari smiles at me and hands me the package, which I tear open. My impatience must be rather obvious, but despite everything I find the calmness to put it on him. Able to perform under stress? Check. “Are you okay?” I ask him, never moving my eyes from his. Some people look at you without ever communicating anything, and then there’s Ari, who is never ashamed of what he feels and has no problem letting you know.
“Mmmm-hmmm,” is all he says. He seems very focused on keeping calm.
“Do you think this thing really tastes of lemon?”
“Does it matter?” he asks in an agonised voice.
“It’s a perfectly legitimate question, Bertha...”. And so saying, I lower myself and ta
ste the tip. If that’s what a lemon is supposed to taste like, I’m Claudia Schiffer.
Ari sighs and then groans. “I don’t want to sound uncooperative, but couldn’t we talk about flavour science another time?” he pleads.
“Ok,” I agree with a smile. I climb back on top of him and lean in his direction, grabbing his shoulders. Ari nods and, with a slow and fluid movement, I start to welcome him inside me.
“Maybe I should have told you before,” I say, stopping him halfway, “but I’m not actually all that experienced. I mean, I only did it with one person before you, so maybe...”
I’m babbling, as you’ve probably guessed, and at a rather awkward moment. Never, never start making such speeches during your first time with a person. I know, I can come across as very transgressive, but it’s more in words than in facts, so I wouldn’t want Ari to have the illusion that he’s ended up in bed with some sexpert, only to then realise that, no, he really hasn’t.
Ari grabs me by the hips and drags me towards him, kissing me in a way that leaves no doubt I’m actually doing pretty well, all things considered. The sudden movement brings us together and we stay like that for a few moments, hugging each other and breathing in unison. Then his eyes snap open and a rainbow-sized smile lights up his face. Damn, this guy is so damn perfect.
“Hey,” he murmurs, almost purring, raising a hand to stroke my cheek and brush a lock of light brown hair from my eyes. I still have to get used to the idea that this hair is mine.
“Hey,” I answer breathlessly.
“Are you ready for something a bit more intense?”
“No, but does that make any difference?”
“Giada, Giada, Giada... what are we going to do with you?” he asks me as he kisses me.
But he seems to have an idea about what to do with me, because his body starts moving under mine, inviting me to do the same.
For all that your first time with someone can contain a universe of embarrassment, there is nothing, and I mean nothing, more absolutely perfect than discovering that you are on exactly the same wavelength. My body follows the instructions of Ari’s and teases him in turn: I rise and fall over him, like a long wave.