Margot wrapped her arms about her body. She shivered as the cool early morning air blew into the darkened room, the shutters opened, just enough, to allow her a glimpse of the buildings that lined the canal, their colourful stuccoed walls and flaking paintwork an iconic reminder of the city’s age and history.
A thin nightdress now covered her fulsome figure; the diaphanous cotton fabric shaping her; its hem finishing mid-thigh and a scooped neckline revealing a lightly tanned and freckled skin. Her long sandy-blonde hair hung down over her shoulders in a dishevelled mess. It framed her slender face, gaunt from lack of sleep.
She ached; soon clutched the nightdress at her belly and pressed fingers into her skin; shifted her weight for a moment to lean forward and glance out of the window, the stilled waters of the narrow canal far below her vantage point.
‘Can’t you sleep…beautiful lady?’
She felt Luca’s hands clamp hers and she moved to lean against him; felt the strength in his arms and the roughness of his hands; shivered as he again moulded her body to his. She lingered on feeling the press of his prick against her buttocks; shared in the slow sway of their bodies, and delighting once more in each other; every movement a reminder of all that had gone before…two days and nights of passionate and prolonged discovery; of sharing; an unlikely but opportunistic affair; each and every moment pursued in her hotel bedroom; the preambles out on the canals or when walking along the narrow causeways; the sharing of intimate chatter and stolen kisses on an arching bridge; jostled by passersby that they had been all but oblivious to.
‘No, I can’t sleep…I knew that it would end for us…we told each other that it was the way of things…it hasn’t stopped me from thinking of it.’
Her live-in lover, Tomas, would not make up for the loss of the vaulting passion that the man who embraced her had brought to their couplings. She had known of moments when his eyes had been upon her; they had shared in a few words as the TV crew filmed the scenes for the documentary that she was a part of; Luca Zanatta, the man with an encyclopaedic knowledge of the city, art and architecture; a man who under that toned skin had found the words to claim her; who purposefully pursued her after the TV crew had left for Munich and she remained to put the draft script together.
How she had managed to do that in the few hours that were open to her, when he was at work on the water, she really did not know. But her work was done here; her times in his arms soon to be at an end. The refashioning of her emotional state would then have to begin. She knew the world only too well in this respect; she did not feel cheapened by her experience, but basked in the afterglow.
Luca pressed his fleshy lips to her throat and kissed her, gently; breathed in her heat.
‘The scent of perfume and loving is on your skin…’ he kissed, his fingers slowly caressing her belly and moving down over the tangle of coarse hair until they claimed her; offered slow caresses that had her breathe in sharply. ‘There’s…there is still time before I have to leave…precious woman. You have enchanted me from the beginning…’
‘And I became someone else with you…’
Margot made no attempt to stop his undressing of her; the lifting away of her nightdress and then the clamp of his hands on the languid swell of her large breasts. She felt that her slender body was burdened by them, but her lover had paid homage to her; to all of her, in his beguiling and seducing ways before he had plugged her with that arcing rod of hard flesh; her responses reduced too incoherent moans until she had felt that wanton pleasure would overwhelm her.
‘How I want you,’ he crooned as she turned in his embrace and Luca bent to kiss her skin. ‘How I wanted you from the first time we met…’
She lifted her head and laughed; felt his lips on her skin; knew what it was that had captivated him so; what she could not fully conceal in the clammy warmth of the city on the water; her impressive cleavage; all that she had brought to his gaze and lustful touch but a tantalising hint; the swell of her breasts displayed by the ‘V’ of her summer blouses that she had worn with billowy slacks and low-heeled pumps; all of it lending her grace.
‘I think I know that…even more so now!’ she laughed, her Italian good enough for them to converse. Otherwise, they had learned of it through their use of English; but to do that spoiled the fun for her; to be seduced by a man and through the use of his language; to hear his gasps of pleasure; his words of endearment as she claimed him.
Of his ways she now knew everything, and he basked in his attention to her hard perky nipples as she reached for him; drew her finger nails over his length as she did so; claimed him in wrenching clamps that were as much a means to draw him back to her bed as it was to bring him on.
‘Love me again…all of me…before you go!’ she gasped as Luca pushed her down onto the bed and buried his tongue within her pink folds; pushed her legs up, onto his shoulders and had her know of him in these wondrous primitive ways. ‘Luca…mi amore!’
‘Si…si! I cannot stop! You will have a special place in my memories…’
Margot took him to her. They fucked until she had nothing more to give him; even as he sought it of her. She would have time to rest; take an early lunch before she caught a flight home.
The art and architecture, the history of the waters that lapped at the walls beneath her window were now as one in the ways of her lover; in the sensations that he aroused and that she knew would again engulf her.
‘You’ve made my Venetian idyll complete, Luca…ai! Ai…aiee!’