by Michael Dunn
“Ciao, benvenuto all’Hilton,” the woman said.
“Ciao,” Dan said, struggling to remember any of the Italian he attempted to learn. “Yo soy Dan Carter.”
“Dan, that’s Spanish,” John told him.
“Well, we are from Miami. You have to know both languages living there.”
“But it’s not Italian. They are not the same.”
“They are close.”
“Still not the same.”
“I speak English,” the front desk woman said.
The three doctors all sighed with relief.
“You three are Americans, no?” Bella asked.
“And we’re doctors too,” Dan bragged and smiled.
Steven and John groaned.
Bella flashed her practiced, professional smile, saying, “Yes, we have been expecting you, Mister, er, Doctor Carter, and your friends. The penthouse is ready.”
“Ooh, like the magazine,” Dan said, mostly to his friends. “I’ve been reading that since I was eleven.”
Steven and John groaned again while Bella continued her professional spiel ignoring Dan’s crude remarks. “The penthouse suite is ready for your arrival. The refrigerator has been stocked and will be serviced twice a day throughout your stay.”
Bella boasted about the benefits and amenities the suite offered, but Dan lost interest. He had a monstrous headache since he awoke in the plane's aisle and he just wanted to get up to the room for another nap.
“Giuseppe will show you to your suite,” Bella said. A bellhop arrived at the front desk.
“May I take your luggage?” The short, squirrely bellhop inquired. He had a brass cart with him.
The doctors nodded, and the bellhop placed their bags onto the cart.
“Aww,” Bella remarked seeing Dan’s precious cartoon bags. “Your bags are so cute, Doctor Carter. Do you have a young daughter?”
“No. Why?”
Shocked, Bella did not know what to say next, except the old standby, “Enjoy your stay.”
Giuseppe pushed the brass cart to the elevators, pressed the button, and pushed the cart inside when the elevator car arrived and emptied. The tourists followed.
“You gentlemen are Americans, no?” Giuseppe asked in fractured English.
John and Steven nodded. Dan ignored the bellhop because of his throbbing headache, resting his head against the cool wall of the elevator.
“Bella said you gentlemen were doctors. Is that true?”
“Yep, we’re all surgeons,” John admitted.
“Surgeons?” Giuseppe asked. “What kind of surgeons?”
Steven pointed to himself and answered, “I’m a neurosurgeon. Those two,” Steven pointed to John and Dan, “They are plastic surgeons.”
“Plastic surgeons? Wow!” Giuseppe gasped. He sounded impressed.
The elevator dinged and opened at the top floor. The doctors stepped out and let Giuseppe pulled the cart from the elevator and led them to the suite. Giuseppe opened the door for them.
“My God,” John uttered inside the suite. He could not believe this would be his home for the next month. “This place is palatial.”
The immense apartment came with a gorgeous panoramic view of the ocean. Below the hotel grounds mimicked an exclusive small-town for the guests of the hotel. John’s private bedroom, which was about the size of John and Steven’s apartment, had its own bath and walk-in closet.
“Wow,” Steven said. Although coming from a wealthy family, was also in awe of his room.
“You like?” The bellhop asked.
They forgot he was there.
“Yes,” John said. “Leave the bags. We can take care of it from here.” John opened his wallet and handed him a twenty Euro note. He did not know what was standard tipping or even if Italy was a tipping culture.
“Wow, thank you, doctor. If you need anything, just call to the front desk and ask for me, Giuseppe. Enjoy your stay.”
He took the cart and left.
The doctors explored the suite in awe, even Dan, but not to the extent of John and Steve. Dan was used to luxury, but even this was beyond his usual pampering.
“This must have cost a small fortune to rent,” Steven said.
“Yeah, well, I told Grandma Carter it would not come cheap.”
“What wouldn’t come cheap?” John asked.
“The death of my dream to be a stand-up comic,” Dan said, and he was silent as he took his bags to the master bedroom.
John and Steven stared at Dan. His friends had never seen him be anything but silly and high-energy or still and hyper-focused to either study or do his job. At that moment, Steven and John understood this vacation was a funeral service for Dan’s youthful ambitions. They came to bury it.
“I get the master bedroom, but I thought that was kind of obvious.” Dan said and wheeled his bags to the biggest bedroom. “I am taking a nap. My head feels like I have the worst hangover ever, like I am dying inside.”
John and Steven said nothing, and headed to their respective rooms to sleep off the jet lag.
Downstairs at the front desk, Giuseppe texted to his other, more secretive employer, informing him that the American surgeons had arrived.
Chapter Seven: Night on the Town
John awoke first and apprehensive when he opened his eyes, forgetting for a couple seconds where he was or why he was in this strange bed.
“Oh, yeah, Italy,” he whispered, and yawned.
He stepped out of bed, dressed in a Florida Marlins T-shirt and boxers, headed out to the kitchen and opening the refrigerator, finding it stocked with lunchmeats, cheese, 2% milk, fruits and vegetables, a loaf of bread, bottles of Coca-Colas, and Italian beers.
John made himself a sandwich, and sat at the kitchen counter peering out into the setting sun, a beautiful dusk off the horizon. The view was as inspirational as it was aspirational. The calm blue waves on the horizon were hypnotic. After he finished his sandwich, he stepped out onto the balcony marveling at the panoramic view of this paradise. The revelers down below on the long stretch of beach were getting the party started. Yachts floated close to the beaches.
One reason he had become a surgeon was to afford to have a similar view of the ocean, eventually. Now, as a first-year surgeon, he barely made enough to survive piled on with the student loans debts, which kept him in his small apartment with Steven. However, after a couple years with substantial raises in pay and taming the student loan beast, John hoped he would start saving up to live in a place like this.
“Hell of a view,” Steven said, startling John. “Are you all right?”
“Yeah, I, uh, was not expecting anyone else to be up yet. Hungry?”
Steven stretched and nodded.
“The fridge is stocked. Help yourself.”
Steven opened the refrigerator door and cheered. Steven removed one of the Italian beers and took a sip. He was used to American and other European beers, such as Guinness or Heineken. These beers would be an acquired taste. Steven made himself a sandwich, and sat next to John, as the rest of the red sun was setting in the west over the horizon.
The moment the sun set and Italy was plunged in darkness, Dan awakened as if he was a vampire. He emerged from the master bedroom wearing a yellow, SpongeBob SquarePants bathrobe.
“Looks like you two started the party without me. You guys ready to go downstairs and have some fun?”
“Where are we going?” Steven asked.
“Downstairs. These beaches are full of bars, parties, and clubs. It’s tourist season.” Dan made himself a sandwich and chugged one of the Italian beers.
“Come on, let’s get ready,” Dan said. He ran back to his room.
John and Steven heard the shower running in the master bedroom as Dan sang a loud, off-key rendition of Britney Spears’ “Toxic.”
Steven, finishing his sandwich, said, “This will be a long month.”
*
After they showered and dressed, they were ready for their first nig
ht in Naples.
“Okay, gentlemen,” Dan told his friends as they headed out the lobby doors of the hotel by himself. “Have fun, you guys, and don’t wait up.”
“Any idea where he’s going?” John asked.
“Nope. You?”
John shook his head. They viewed the summer parties on the beach.
Steven suggested, “Perhaps Dan had the right idea. Sometimes the fool knows best.”
John smirked and said, “I wouldn’t go that far. Come on, let’s go see if Naples is a fun town.”
“Yeah, see you tomorrow.”
*
Dan acted like a rich kid on spring break with an unlimited credit card, hopping from one beach bar to the next, starting with the bar and nightclub on the hotel’s grounds. Soon, he found his way to another club on the beach.
Happily, and comfortably drunk, Dan danced as if no one was watching, but someone was watching. A man with a camera continued to click and follow Dan Carter through his tour of the Naples beach nightlife.
Dan caught the eye of a beautiful, young Italian woman with olive skin, black hair, large brown eyes, and full, pouty lips. She had a beautiful, curvy body. She smiled at him while she danced to the thumping club music. She wiggled her forefinger in a come-hither motion.
“Hi,” Dan started “Do you speak English? Please say, ‘yes.’”
“Yes,” she said, in her Italian accent. She smiled and giggled.
“Can I buy you a drink?” He asked.
She nodded.
Dan led her from the dance floor to the bar. He bought her a margarita. He had a Jack and Coke. He chatted and she laughed.
“What do you do?” She asked him in heavily accented English.
“I’m a surgeon.” Dan boasted. “A plastic surgeon from Miami.”
“Oh! You are American?”
“Yes, I am.”
Her eyes widened and she smiled. He bought her another drink and she kissed him. They made out hot and heavy at the bar. The bartender and patrons did not give them a second look. It was tourist season.
Dan’s date excused herself to ‘powder her nose.’ In the bathroom, she made a phone call.
“Sì, lui è un chirurgo plastico dall’America.” Translated: Yes, he is a plastic surgeon from America. “Sì. Sì. Sì. Ovviamente (of course). Arrivederci.”
She ended the call and returned to the American surgeon.
“Did you miss me?” She asked.
“I sure did. Now, where were we?”
They made out again, hot and heavy as before.
“Let’s go back to my place,” Dan offered.
“Like a date?” she asked. Her accent was so thick, Dan was not sure if he heard her correctly.
“Um… sure, if that makes you feel better.”
She smiled and nodded. They walked back to the hotel.
The man with a camera continued to click pictures as he followed Dan Carter.
*
After an hour of passing bars and nightclubs along the beach, John stopped at one bar on a whim for a drink.
He thought, ‘What the hell?’ and walked up to a tiki themed bar. He wanted a drink and this place was as good as any. He ordered a dirty vodka martini, chilled with three olives.
“That is a good drink. A man’s drink. Tito here makes them strong.”
A beautiful older woman, who resembled Sophia Loren in the 70s, leaned on the bar waiting for a drink told the surgeon.
To John, the woman miraculously appeared next to him. She was not there when he ordered his martini.
The woman wore her red hair in a feathered bob. She wore a red cocktail dress that showed off her dangerous curves and ample cleavage. A necklace with a small, green bauble draped between her two large and remade breasts. John noticed the faint surgical scar only because he knew where to look. Her plastic surgeon was a true flesh artist.
That surgeon could give Dan and me a few pointers, John thought.
She giggled and showed off her warm smile.
John said, “Hello,” and smiled at her. “I did not see you there.”
She giggled, smiled back, and moved closer to him. It had been a while since John had picked up a woman in a bar.
She said, “I like your accent.”
“I like yours,” he said.
“Where are you from?” she asked.
“Miami,” John answered.
“An American,” she said, with a gasp and a smile.
John nodded and asked, “Can I buy you a drink?”
“Certainly.”
John ordered another martini and she ordered a Long Island Iced Tea.
“I love America,” she said. “But I haven’t been there in a while.”
He smiled.
“I’m Miller, John Miller.”
“Teresa Vincenzo.”
They shook hands. Her hand was small, delicate, and feminine.
“What do you do, Mr. John Miller from America?”
“Doctor?”
“Eh? Cosa?”
“Doctor John Miller.”
Her eyes lit up. “Oh, an American doctor?”
He nodded as he took a sip from his martini.
“Mmm. You were correct. The martini is strong, but delicious, and the right amount of dirty.”
They clicked glasses.
“Salute.”
“Salute.”
Her necklace dangled above her cleavage contained an emerald the size of a peanut M&M inside jewelry bat wings.
“I love your necklace.”
“Oh, thank you. This old thing?”
“It is very... unusual.”
“That it is.”
The emerald flashed when John peered at it; a flash similar to a camera flashbulb blinding John for a second. He blinked several times until his eyes returned to normal.
“See anything you like?” She asked.
“Forgive me for staring, but your necklace just glowed.”
“It did?”
John nodded and stared, mesmerized by the necklace. He brought his forefinger in front of the stone and touched it. It gave the curious doctor a small, static-electric zap, and he retracted his finger and winced.
Teresa’s eyes grew wider with surprise and shock and then she smiled. “It seems like the emerald likes you.”
“What is it?” John asked.
“It is a piece of an ancient emerald; a family heirloom. My friend told me I would find you here.”
John cocked an eyebrow.
“How would your friend know I would be here when I had no idea I would be here? I chose this bar at random.”
“Did you?”
Her question spooked John, who stammered a response.
“It’s not a bad thing,” Teresa told him. “She told me you would be handsome like a movie star and had many… hidden qualities.”
“Hidden qualities?” John asked and sipped his martini.
“Uh-huh,” Teresa nodded, also sipping her drink. She ever so slightly brushed her finger down the side of his cheek, which made John’s body shudder with excitement, causing an instant erection.
John grabbed her to him and kissed her. Teresa grabbed John by the sides of his face and kissed him hard and passionately. Teresa was strong, delicious, and the right amount of dirty.
“Let’s go back to my place,” She gasped, panting for breath.
“Sounds good to me.”
John paid their tab.
Teresa led him to her stretch SUV limousine. John did not see much of her driver, but from the silhouette of his head shoulders of the driver was a large, hulking man, who reminded John of the Frankenstein Monster.
Once inside the stretch SUV, Teresa instructed her driver in Italian to take them home.
John and Teresa made out like horny teenagers after prom during the short drive. He peeked out the window of the stretch SUV when the driver, Bernardo, stopped at the gate. The vacationing surgeon’s eyes widened and he uttered, “Wow.”
Teresa tea
sed, “Wait until you get inside.”
Bernardo stopped the SUV at the front door. Teresa stepped out from the back and led John out by the hand.
“That will be all for the night, Bernardo,” she told the driver in English. The driver grunted and an agreement. To John, she whispered, “Follow me.”
Her expansive, opulent home teetered between a refined museum and an old-world palace. Small statues of classical men stood heroically posed in the nooks in the walls. Gleaming ancient tiles shone underneath their feet.
Teresa led him by the hand as she sashayed and sauntered up the grand marble staircase; her hips moving hypnotically.
Her spacious bedroom had a comfortable, if medieval-luxury feel with a double king-sized bed in the center of the room made and ready. Teresa shut the door and locked it behind her. She kissed John again, practically pouncing on him as she unzipped the back of her dress.
“Please, allow me,” John offered, and delicately, with the precision of a surgeon, John unzipped her dress.
She wiggled her dress to the ground revealing matching lacy black bra and panties. Teresa had the most exquisite, lithe body, that of a curvaceous dancer.
She giggled like a school girl and wrapped her arms around him, clasped behind his neck. He stared into her doe-shaped eyes.
She traced his face with her forefinger and then down his gym-sculpted chest. Teresa told him in accented English, “You are a very handsome young man, do you know that?”
John smiled. “Thanks.”
She undressed him and caressed his erection. “You have a beautiful body.”
John gasped. “Thank you. So do you.”
John unfastened her brassiere with one hand using only this thumb and two fingers. Teresa’s eyes lit up, impressed by that move.
“You have had a lot of practice, yes?”
“Yes, years of experience.”
“Ooh,” Teresa giggled.
They had sex for an hour before they fell asleep to bed sweaty, exhausted, and blissful. John fell asleep first and Teresa studied him while he slept. She rubbed her finger down his right cheek.
“I told you I knew you would come,” she whispered. “The prophecy was correct. I hope you like it here, because this is where you were meant to be.”
