Euro Tripped

by Sally Bryan

  “And what will you do for dinner?”

  My eyes glazed over as I thought for the answer. “I think there’s some lasagne left over from last night, or perhaps I’ll attempt some Italian cooking myself.”

  He stepped further into the office. “I cannot allow that, it’s Friday night and for only a short time, the opera is in Poggibonsi. Tonight, we’ll eat good local food and listen to music in the fortress grounds.”

  I pinched my bottom lip, “oh, now then,” I wasn’t sure. He seemed ok and apparently I was completely unattached but now was far from the right time to start anything new with anyone, I’d only said goodbye to Arwen a few days before and I felt the need to do that some justice by leaving sufficient time. Indeed, the fact I was so busy had prevented her leaving from properly sinking in, which was why I wasn’t, even now, balling my eyes out. Other than that, there was no reason why I shouldn’t spend the evening with this exceptionally straight talking and forward man enjoying the opera, as long as that’s all it would be. I was also a guest in someone else’s house, though I hardly thought that would be an issue. On the other hand, it was Friday night and I had literally nothing else to do other than get drunk on yet more wine and take an early night. Opera for the first time in my life? Why not?

  “Sorry,” I began, “I wasn’t hesitating, I was just thinking. Yes, that sounds nice and I’d like to see Poggibonsi.” I held my hand out to the man. “Mi chiamo Freya, e tu?”

  He raised both eyebrows, impressed by my minuscule Italian, and his rough, calloused hand took mine. “Sono Goro.”

  “Piacere.”

  * * *

  The gentle slope that approached the Medici fortress was lined with stalls selling medieval wares, cheeses, wine, spirits, pastries and all kinds of edible delicacies made locally and the ham and cheese paninis looked so good that my feet stopped of their own accord. I was just about to pay for one when instead, Goro handed the cash over to the lady.

  “Goro, you shouldn’t. I have money.”

  He guided me away with a hand on my lower back and stuck out his chin, “you’re out with me so I will pay.”

  He was one of those old-fashioned guys, for sure, brought up a certain way, which made me wonder if I had his age all wrong or if men were just really different down here. He’d been quick with the doors, which was a refreshing change from Gabe, but then he was also too eager to pay when it wasn’t necessary, having already handed over fifty Euros for the two tickets at the box office. It wasn’t that I minded overly he was spending money on me when we’d only just met, the issue was that doing so placed me in a position where it felt like I was supposed to reciprocate in some way. And since he was not allowing me to pay for anything, that could only mean one thing.

  We had about fifteen minutes before the start of the show, a Vivaldi that promised to be memorable. The warmup act was playing now and we’d been able to hear the distant clashing of cymbals and the toots of brass instruments all the way from the carpark and people had been stopping in the street to join the queue for tickets.

  We strolled past a stall selling bouquets of flowers and Goro must have observed me staring at them because he stopped to purchase a particularly large bunch. “They’re red to match your hair.”

  I held out my hands to accept them, what else could I do? “Goro, you really shouldn’t.” The second bunch today. “What are you apologising for this time?”

  He didn’t get the reference and gestured up the slope for us to continue and I made a conscious effort not to show interest in anything else. We passed through the gates and down a long stone tunnel before Goro showed the attendant our tickets and then we emerged onto a large lawn with a stage and seats for several hundred spectators. There were also more stalls set around the periphery.

  The clashes and honks of brass instruments echoed from the ancient stone walls as the venue filled with people, though if I’d thought opera would only attract a more mature demographic I was wrong because there were people of all ages taking seats. What I did notice was how well everybody was dressed, this was Italy after all, and I hoped I wouldn’t be too conspicuous in jeans and blouse. Certainly, my date hadn’t made any complaints.

  Goro himself had changed, I think, in the cabin of his truck, so that he was no longer wearing overalls and bandana but a striking all blue suit over white shirt and tie. He even had a pocket square at his breast and I had to hand it to the guy, he’d made an effort and was striking to look at, if not for his natural looks then certainly for his style and I did notice the glances he was attracting from other ladies.

  “You like wine?” He asked as we ambled around the periphery and I assumed this was likely a question about how I’d ended up sort of working in a vineyard. How to explain that?

  I sniggered, “who doesn’t like wine? And I’m having lots of fun working for Dayna and Alessia.” I turned into him and looked up to meet his eyes, “and it’s good of you to stay behind when others ditched them in their hour of need.”

  He avoided my gaze. “Have you ever tried Prosecco?”

  “Um, Prosecco?” I squinted, “it’s fairly popular back home but no, I can’t say I’ve ever tried it.”

  “Then we’ll get a bottle,” he placed his hand on my lower back and guided me towards the stall, looks like I’d assumed wrong about the meaning of his question, and he signalled the vendor before pointing to a bottle on the top shelf. I had to look away because the item ticket indicated it cost one hundred Euros and then Goro was handing over the money.

  I didn’t even know what to think because the price was beyond extortionate, as delicious as I’m sure it was, but how was I supposed to enjoy it? All I could do was pretend I hadn’t seen how much it had cost, I mean, the man drove a truck for a living and I didn’t wish to be the one responsible for his not being able to pay the rent this month. To top it off, none of this was impressing me at all. On the contrary, it placed me under the pressure to somehow repay him and I wasn’t about to do that.

  Thankfully, the music was soon starting and after we found our seats, Goro popped the cork and filled our glasses.

  “To an evening of music, culture and beauty.”

  “Right,” I clinked and sipped, it tasted good, magical even but I should have been here with someone else.

  Where was Arwen this night? It was now the third night without the strange girl and finally, I knew it, which I could only put down to being here, socialising, with someone else. But she’d gone and this time it really was for the best because in so doing, she’d proven we weren’t the same.

  The orchestra came out to an applause and I counted twenty-one musicians before they began with Four Seasons. It lasted for more than half an hour and Goro told me about each season as the music transitioned. Afterwards, there was a short intermission and he was keen to learn about my travels. Having come from the south, he’d explored most of Italy but had never left the country and my impression of the man was that he was intelligent and worldly, if constrained by his job, which stole so many of his hours. I asked how long he’d been driving trucks and he explained that the truck he drove for the vineyard was the only one he’d ever driven and he’d taken the job only after the recent walkouts.

  “Before I picked grapes and now I drive a truck.” His jaw tilted up. “When the opportunity came, I took it.”

  I nodded appreciatively, ambition was important. Then a large lady in a blue dress emerged onto the stage along with a big man in a tux and an exceptionally red face and Goro explained that the present piece was called Gloria. Twenty minutes into it, Goro took the handkerchief from his breast pocket and wiped the tears from his eyes.

  His car pulled up at the vineyard gates. “Freya, I had a wonderful time.”

  I unbuckled my belt, “I had fun, Goro.”

  There was a moment of eye contact as he tilted slowly forwards but my hand was already on the handle, it clicked and he moved away. “Tomorrow I go to Rome but I will see you again soon, I’m very certain.”


  And since I’d be at the vineyard, there’d be no getting away from it. Had I been naive in assuming this evening would be nothing more than music and a chance to leave the vineyard? It wasn’t that I didn’t like Goro necessarily, he was straightforward to a fault, which could only be admired, was hardworking and presented himself very well. The problem was I’d felt nothing all night long and there could only be one reason for that - Where was she now? But I knew of all the people I’d ever met, Goro would appreciate it being given straight.

  “Goro, I had fun but I don’t think I’m interested in that way and even if I was, I’m only going to be here for another month, so there’s not really any way anything can happen between us,” I’d backtracked on the exit to face him, he was nodding and blinking slowly, disappointed but thankfully ok with the reality, “but we can certainly hang out and chat whenever you’re knocking about the vineyard.”

  He took my hand and kissed me above the knuckles, very sweet. “Of course, and I thank you for that. Buona notte, signora.”

  “Anche a te, Goro.”

  Saturday was uneventful at the vineyard, which for this place was something to celebrate in itself, and I simply carried on with my tasks, collecting the workers in the morning and bottling and corking almost a thousand bottles of wine before dinner.

  Alessia called late in the evening to inform me, in exceptionally broken English, that Dayna had given birth to their son and both were doing well. It was the happiest I’d yet heard Alessia and hoped the new addition might trigger a positive change in her emotional state, indeed, the vineyard was long overdue some good news.

  It was Sunday evening when they returned and, not wanting to crowd them too much, I had to wait a full fifteen minutes from the time they ground into the carpark to them removing the baby from its seat and finally arriving at the front door, all whilst I stood vibrating by the window.

  They entered the house without ceremony, Dayna red-cheeked and exhausted whilst holding a small lump wrapped in a blanket. Alessia had one arm around Dayna’s midriff and her eyes darted about the lower floor as though an unannounced threat might be lurking somewhere. Both were beaming beyond happiness and the baby was wrapped so snugly that I could only make out its adorable tiny face as he slept.

  “I made some stew, in case you were hungry,” I whispered as they drifted wearily over to the table. Not knowing what state they’d be in, I’d wanted to have something prepared for their arrival just in case.

  “Abbiamo fame,” Alessia said, to my surprise, not only because she’d spoken to me before Dayna but because she was actually eating, “buono.”

  And so we ate stew, which comprised chunks of beef, potatoes, carrots and turnip, a Scottish thing, but nobody complained and the baby only occasionally made adorable squeaking sounds as Dayna was unable to put him down even for a second.

  “Come si chiama?” I asked Alessia. She looked incredibly thin and her face was gaunt but where before there was a haunted aspect, now there was most certainly something else.

  “Marco Alberto Giordano-Hayes,” she slowly leaned down to kiss his cheek.

  “Marco’s Alessia’s best friend, who’s the biological father.” Dayna yawned and ate another spoonful of stew that had to have gone cold.

  It was all so sweet and perfect and over the next hour I fussed over the three of them as twilight arrived and Dayna recalled the experience of the last couple of days and Alessia inserted her bits, which Dayna had to translate, the baby’s eyes never once opening and I hoped beyond hope that everything would be all right for them, and living was all about these very rare magical moments you remember the rest of your life and if I’d had any doubts about the decision I’d made to be here, I knew now I’d done the right thing and then the headlights from a vehicle flashed against the far wall and there was the crunch of gravel beneath wheels and then silence as the engine cut out.

  And I knew at once that this perfect night was about to become heavenly.

  * * *

  “Let me guess,” I began as I strolled towards her at the camper, “you climbed mountains, descended into meadows, slept with pixies, met rockstars and made it all the way to Eldorado?”

  Arwen dropped her bag and rushed to cover the distance, astonishing me by slipping her hands into my hair and pulling me closer as our lips crushed together. My hand was trapped between our rib cages and I had to work to wriggle it free so that I could grab her by the waist and squeeze her as tightly as I could.

  She released her lips, “no I didn’t. Why do you do this to me?”

  I was still trying to come to terms with her sudden arrival when our lips were again smushing together and our feet began shuffling towards the camper without instruction from either of us. “You really came back?”

  “Apparently, I never left. Damn you.”

  “You’re really here?”

  “I couldn’t go without you, it wouldn’t be the same.”

  “Keep speaking.”

  She reached behind her back and the camper door flung open. “I can’t be without you.”

  “That’s good enough for now.” My feet left the ground because she was lifting me up and then I was plonked inside. “Oh, the mess.”

  “Quiet.” She slammed the door closed, enshrouding us in darkness and I could only see her outline as it moved towards me and then my breasts were filling her hands.

  I was forced back against the stove and something, a liquid, spilled over the floor. I groaned into her mouth as she worked on my blouse buttons and I began to assist with that task as I found myself again being lifted bodily up and dumped on the countertop. What had to be a kingsized bag of crisps crunched beneath me as most of the contents fired across the camper and finally, I was able to discard my blouse as she unclasped my bra and my breasts fell free in her hands.

  I was wearing jeans and flip flops, the latter already having been discarded as we both grappled for that tiny button, which wasn’t easy in my present position so I hitched back to allow her access and as I did, banged my head against the cupboard.

  She tugged off my jeans and underwear in one effort and feeling the warm air against my thighs, I wrapped them around her waist, clasping her into me tight. We were both already panting and I couldn’t believe I was about to have Arwen inside of me again, only this time, she was the girl I loved.

  She leaned into me as I tried to find a comfortable position with my head and back lodged where the edge of the cupboard met the shelf but she moved swiftly away and pulled her dress over her head, “here,” before handing it to me for use as a cushion.

  I only wished I could see her eyes as she slid her hand down my body but it only made her heavenly peachy scent all the stronger as her finger slipped so easily inside my passage.

  “Arwen,” I panted and let out an involuntary moan, my body seeming to go rigid and limp in one as I could feel her working inside of me, “I really fucking missed you.”

  “I missed you too.” She croaked into my ear. “Oh God, there’s so much dew down here.” It was true, her finger was slipping and sliding around with such ease there was barely any friction, not that it was a problem for me but then her head was moving down my body and I knew she wanted to have her taste.

  “We really need to fall out more often.” I heaved and reached around in an effort to grab ahold of something and managed to find the driver side headrest and I slid forwards on the countertop so she’d have a better angle to access my most secret place.

  “You really need to stop talking,” her voice came out muffled by my thighs, “I want no distractions when I’m ravishing you.” So hot!

  I could feel her breath so cold against the warm arousal that was already discharging from my opening. “Now who’s talking.” Please don’t keep me waiting.

  She was in a crouched position, which her powerful thighs would have no problem maintaining, and then all I could see was the dark outline of her head as she inched forwards, centring herself between my thighs and I
clenched hard to that soft cushion and braced. It was the one thing I’d wanted more than anything else, for so long, to feel her again, to be close to her, to be one with her. All the mistakes we’d made had led to this moment, all was forgiven, we were still together and this would be better than our first time because now there were no complications holding us back, this time I loved her more than anything.

  Her tongue slid up the length of my folds and I almost evaporated, I was so wet for Arwen, and now my natural honey was inside of her. She angled up to envelop my pearl as her fingers commenced work, curling just enough to massage that place deep within that held so much power. She used her free hand to massage my thigh whilst mine was lost in her hair and all the time I could feel her mouth hot around my most intimate spot, her tongue flicking and nipping that bundle of nerves, her fingers pushing firmly in before sliding carefully out. My body jerked and then again and she increased the tempo. I grabbed tighter to her hair, pulled her into me, the sweet sounds her mouth made as it played and tasted and experienced my inside. I could see swirly patterns in the darkness and heaved as my hips tried to thrust up but she held me down hard so she wouldn’t lose a single drop of my essence that was spilling from within me. My skin perspired, flushed hot and cold until finally, she returned to hold me tight and I couldn’t help but crumple in her arms.

  * * *

  “Ok, I have to know, did you honestly never leave?” I asked, still dizzy, caressing and touching her all over like she was the long lost love of my life. We’d since transferred to our bedroom from where we lay on the bed and the dimmers revealed five days had done nothing to diminish her perfection.

  She grazed my belly with the backs of her fingers, sending small shivers delightfully down my spine. “I made it halfway to Rome on the first day,” she spoke lazily, “that was when I was really angry at you. But a long stop for coffee made me realise … Rome wouldn’t mean anything without you, my travel buddy.” Her words were like magic.