by Andres Mann
The thought of hunky Italian men titillated Carmen. They finally retired to the apartment and she wanted to make love; actually she really wanted to have sex. This time, she wanted to do it her way, quickly, without the slow buildup that Nicola liked.
He came into the bedroom with two glasses of Prosecco wine. Carmen was already in bed, lying on her side, looking very much like Goya’s Maya Desnuda in the famous painting.
Nicola sat next to her and put a glass against her mouth. She took a sip and moved over, making room for him. He smiled, put the glasses down and gently kissed her. Carmen put her hands behind his neck and insisted he kiss her breasts. This always worked with the guys, the great thing being that it would always generate immediate lustful interest and a beautiful erection. It was the same in this case, but Nicola still wanted to play first.
Carmen was not in a mood for playing. She yanked him down on the bed and with a little effort, put him on his back. She knew that he was strong and could easily overpower her, so she used the guerrilla tactic of surprise, kissing him to distract him and immediately impaling herself on his manhood. He gasped, surprised, but she did not give him time to react. She started to move, grinding herself against him, faster and faster, forcing Nicola to stand still until she exploded into an orgasm. She needed a minute to catch her breath and knew that he had not come. She got off of him and lay on his side. She spread her legs, ready to offer him a reward for “behaving.”
Nicola did not like quick sex but realized this time, that’s all that was going to happen. He guided his erect member into her, eliciting a gasp. He slid deeply inside and started to move aggressively. Carmen felt invaded by an Egyptian obelisk. He was a little too big, especially when he thrusted so fast and deep into her. She felt like he was ripping her apart, holding her down with her hands above her head. He was not even trying to kiss her; he just plunged deeply inside her, over and over again. The nightmare of her being raped when young was returning to her consciousness until an intense orgasm erupted deep into her body. Nicola did not stop; he kept moving every which way into her, feeling her muscles clutching around his shaft. She exploded again and again until he finally climaxed with a last deep thrust.
Carmen was angry. She was overpowered, and she hated that. On the other hand, she marveled at the fullness of his manhood inside her. She could not believe that she had managed to accommodate him. She felt his shaft slowly softening, his hands on her breast and his tongue into her mouth. She could hardly breathe. Nicola finally withdrew and fell on his back beside her.
“Why did you do that,” she asked, still panting and soaked in sweat.
“I did what you wanted,” was his response.
“I got off the first time when I was on top of you. That’s all I wanted. I let you on top of me so you would come as well; instead, you practically raped me. You are twice my size, for God’s sake.”
“Did it hurt?”
“Yes, it hurt. You are so damn big.”
“Would you prefer a smaller man?”
“I prefer a man that does what he is told.”
“That’s not what I want, Carmen. In my view, making love to a woman is like indulging with a fine brandy. I warm the glass in my hand, swirl the amber liquid around, observe the nectar cling to the side of the vessel; then I take the first sip and savor the taste on my tongue. I then take a second sip, this time enjoying the fullness of the liquor. I keep doing it until it is gone.”
“Very poetic, except that I am not a glass of booze. I know what I want, and I don’t like to be controlled, not to mention being plowed by a locomotive.”
“So you did not like my plowing into you.”
“Oddly, it hurt, but I liked it. You almost split me apart, but I liked it. But you might try doing it a little gentler next time.”
“I am delighted that there will be a next time, love.” He took her jaw and turned her to him. He kissed her with passion and she loved it.
“Nicola, we need to reach an understanding. Sometimes, I just need sex, short and sweet. I also enjoy your more leisurely approach, which is great. If we are going to stay together, you need to read me better.”
“Touché, I am will be waiting for your instructions with baited breath.”
Carmen grabbed the pillow and whacked it at him repeatedly. “It’s a two-way street here, buddy. Develop some sensitivity.”
“I promise I shall be a devout practitioner of sensitivity.”
Carmen whacked him again until Nicola grabbed and hugged her tightly against his chest.
They fell asleep into each other’s arms until a loud noise startled her. It sounded like a passenger plane landing over them.
“It’s the train,” Nicola informed her matter-of-fact. The beach is separated from the rest of town by the railroad. The train station is only one block away.
“When do you get any sleep here?”
“It’s not a problem, you get used to it.”
The next morning, they went to the beach across from their apartment on Corso Valparaiso. An amazing concrete boardwalk sported powerful nozzles that sprayed water upward, creating a beautiful fountain effect at the far edge of the walkway. Marinas and shops below were bustling; handsome people enjoyed their passeggiata and a few kids played on bumper cars at the playground.
“They say that a big storm is coming. We need to keep alert for a couple of days.” Nicola knew his weather.
“I just need to relax, Nicola. I don’t care if I spend the time in bed playing with you or reading my Kindle. I guess we don’t have much choice, the TV here sucks.”
“You have proclaimed the absolute truth. I dare say that developing countries probably do better. No matter, we can find entertainment by just walking around.”
Carmen was a keen observer and noticed that there seemed to be only a few children around, even on the playground. Nicola explained. “Italy has one of the lowest birth rates in the world after France. Couples having a child are the exception, not the rule. I am sure that the economy is a factor, but I suspect that the real problem is a persistent lack of optimism. Sooner or later, we are going to face a demographic problem, too few young people supporting too many old ones. At the same time, we resist immigration. I am not sure what will come of that.”
They walked back into Nicola’s apartment building which sported a handsome marble foyer with simple modern décor. The elevator took them to his unit. Carmen took off her sweater and walked to the balcony. The boardwalk was now practically deserted, the increasing wind having driven people indoors. Rain started to pour, becoming increasingly intense.
Carmen was running out of clothes, and even though the apartment had a clothes washer, it did not have a dryer. Carmen thought this was weird.
Nicola explained. “Italians don’t like to use dryers. They just hang clothes out to dry on clotheslines.”
Carmen did not find the practice quaint or even remotely acceptable. “What do you do in winter?”
Nicola shrugged his shoulders. Carmen passed on providing her opinion on the subject.
“My sisters use the apartment when I am gone, let me see what nightwear they keep here.”
Carmen looked through the armoire and selected a light yellow negligee and a robe. When she walked back to the living room, Nicola had changed into a V-neck T-shirt and lounge pants. He poured a couple of brandy glasses and true to form, proceeded to make love to his vessel, swirling amber liquor and inhaling the vapor. Carmen smiled. They spent the rest of the evening talking.
Carmen had never trusted men—she just used them. In her mind, men were still stuck on acting with the reptilian part of their brain, obsessively spreading their seed around as much as they could. She was puzzled that she did not detect any sign of that behavior in Nicola. He remained relaxed, self-assured and darn, gorgeous. He had blue eyes, great skin, and a sexy, fit body. He moved around with stealthy grace and looked at Carmen with a slight glint in his eyes. What she did not know was that he had admired her since
they first met in Iraq. He saw that she was unique, confident, assertive, extremely competent and sexy as hell.
The rain continued to pour, and Nicola suggested they get some rest. Carmen brushed her teeth and lay down. They made love again, listening to the rushing trains below and the howling wind outside.
Chapter 50
Anguish
Jake moved Tess to a rehab facility. She was still confused, with short-term memory loss. The therapists started to work with her immediately. They put her on a treadmill then moved her to occupational therapy specialists who worked on restoring her cognitive faculties through picture cards, puzzles and objects manipulation. Jake was always was there with her, pushing the wheelchair to take her to the various activities. Initially, she did not do well but improved rapidly, regaining strength and memory.
Back to her room resting in bed, Tess finally asked about little Morgan. She also noticed that her abdomen had not grown. Jake steeled himself. He now had to tell her the truth.
“Tess, we lost the baby due to the accident. There was nothing they could do.”
Tess now remembered. The car chase, the explosions, jumping into the ditch, the pain of hitting her head on a rock. She put her hand on her belly, hoping that the child was still in her. She wasn’t.
Tess moaned in despair. She needed to feel something precious. “Jake, I want you to bring little Morgan to me.”
Jake remained silent, his heart breaking. He steeled himself. “Tess, someone kidnapped little Morgan; we think it was Amir.”
Tess opened her eyes wide, unable to comprehend the horror. She emitted a scream of agony, causing the nurses to come into the room. Jake asked them to leave and embraced her, trying to help her through her flood of tears. He said nothing; he just held her until the nurse gave her a sedative shot to make her sleep. Jake sat in an easy chair beside the bed, staring into nothingness, enduring his own private hell.
Tess slept for a couple of hours and woke up. Jake had fallen asleep on the chair. She looked at her beloved who was always at her side and shared her pain. Tess was shattered, the sudden loss of her two children difficult to comprehend. She started to keen, holding her stomach, bobbing up and down, tears flowing again.
Jake woke up hugged her again, trying to comfort her as well as he could. Tess finally drew on her strength, forcing herself to stop crying. Her old courageous self was back.
“Jake, I want to know everything. I swear I will go after Amir, take my child back and make him pay for killing the baby in my womb. I want to get out of here now!”
“Tess, your therapy is not done; you need to stay here for a couple more days.”
“I want to get out now! Help me get dressed. I need to find a way to kill the bastard!”
There was no way to keep her down. Jake checked her out of the facility against the advice of the doctors, fully realizing that the old, fierce and relentless Tess was back in action. Her murderous rage was very much evident in her face. She was back to being a fearsome warrior bent on revenge and on taking back what was hers.
Jake took her home to their apartment and tried to help her get some rest to no avail. Tess called her father and asked him to come to her.
Chapter 51
Tempest
Still in Chiavari, Carmen woke up in the morning and decided to make Nicola a Mexican breakfast. For the first time since she got there she tried to use the small, outdated kitchen, so out of place compared to the rest of the elegant apartment. Just about everything was archaic; antediluvian, the period before the flood described in the Bible. An appropriate metaphor, since the rain showed no signs of abating.
She found a butane gas lighter and after a few attempts she managed to fire up the rickety gas burner. She looked around for a frying pan and found a decrepit dented approximation of it deep into a greasy cabinet. It was obvious that neither Nicola nor his sisters ever cooked in this place. They probably ate out at the restaurants below the building.
Carmen poured some olive oil in the pan and started to adapt ingredients for breakfast. Suddenly, the frying pan tilted on the rickety burner, spilling oil on the surface of the stove, igniting a blaze. She grabbed a small towel and tried to pat down the flames. The towel caught fire and stuck to her hand. Carmen felt an agonizing burning sensation. She could not get to the small sink because the flames now had extended to the area.
Nicola heard the noise, rushed over to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. He retrieved a large bottle of mineral water and splashed the contents on Carmen’s burning hand. He used a second bottle to extinguish the fire.
Carmen was hurting, the pain of the burn now intense. Nicola took her into his arms and lay her down on the living room sofa. He then called the hospital. The dispatcher told him that there was flooding everywhere and that it would take some time to dispatch an ambulance to them. It would be faster if he could drive Carmen to the hospital.
Nicola helped Carmen get dressed, and led her down the elevator to the basement, where his car was parked. They opened the door to the garage and found it flooded. All the parked cars were submerged in water up to the top of the wheel wells.
Working through the pain, Carmen regained her wits. “My rental car is at the parking lot outside the building. I don’t think it floods there. The lot is elevated.”
The parking lot was at the end of the block. The wisdom of the town fathers now proved itself. Walking under to covered porticos, they managed not to get soaked. Nicola asked Carmen to stay put and ran to retrieve the small Fiat 500. He got in and in less than a minute picked her up.
They headed to Lavagna, the only town with a small regional hospital, just across the river from Chiavari. Driving through the increasingly nasty torrent of water, they crossed the bridge and made it to the Pronto Soccorso, the Italian equivalent of Emergency Room. Orderlies whisked Carmen to the triage area for treatment. Nicola went back outside to park the 500 on an elevated outside parking lot above the hospital. There was no overhead protection, and by the time he returned the treatment room, he was soaked.
The doctor cleaned Carmen’s hand, slathered a jellylike substance on it and bandaged it. He suggested that she stay in the hospital overnight. She declined, and said that she wanted to go back to the apartment.
“I am not so sure it’s the best thing to do, Carmen,” Nicola said. Outside we have a biblical flood.” Carmen insisted so Nicola got soaked again to retrieve the car and off they went.”
By this time, it was dark. Carmen had never seen so much heavy rain precipitating for hours on end. The news on the radio reported significant flooding in Genoa. Nicola started to drive through the streets, managed to avoid large puddles and headed toward one of the bridges on the border with Chiavari. He drove around a corner and suddenly he had to step on the brakes. A long line of cars ahead of them had stopped. The police had closed the bridge connecting the town to Chiavari. The torrential rain had swollen the river and the water was now over the bridge.
Nicola backed up and made for another bridge located a short distance south of town. The same thing happened; when they approached the alternate bridge, instead of a road, they now saw a lake. Police cars were parked at the periphery of the flooding, red lights flashing. A policeman clad in a yellow rubber overcoat came over and told them that there was no way to pass at this time. Nicola thought of alternatives. “Can we make it to the Autostrada? “No, Signore,” was the response, “the approaches to it are also flooded. There is nothing we can do for a while.”
Parking was scarce, but they managed to find a spot under an apartment building with balconies that funneled water down below. They stayed there for an hour, enduring water running from the building and pouring on the ceiling of the tiny Fiat. The noise was deafening.
Nicola knew that Carmen was still in distress. “Do you need a pain pill?”
“I would love to take one, Nicola, but under the circumstances, I better not.”
The heavy rain continued to fall. Now sheets of water inv
aded the streets, and Nicola now worried that if they remained there they ran the risk of being flooded. He turned the car around and drove back to the center of town. They saw an available parking spot in front a large gated villa and stopped. No sign of abatement. The rain continued unrestrained and there was not one soul to be seen. The town was dark, the townspeople holed up in their apartments, waiting for the wet hell outside to come to an end.
Carmen was really hurting now. Nicola started the car and kept searching for alternative exits out of town. All of the possible escape routes were either blocked or flooded. The police had managed to cordon off the most dangerous areas. Nicola was not very familiar with the town, so he had to guess alternate means of escape. He finally saw a park that appeared to be slightly elevated from the streets. He took a chance, followed a pedestrian pathway, and drove through some grassed areas. He silently apologized for the damage that he was inflicting on the lawn and made it north of town where he was able to cross a bridge that was close to being flooded by the rising torrent below.
They finally arrived in Chiavari. Their city was flooding as well, and many cars parked in the beautiful Piazza Roma were now in what appeared a small lake. They made it to the railroad station, the building below Nicola’s place on the other side of the tracks. The elevated rails separated the entire beach area from the town itself. Several underpasses allowed cars to travel from the beach to downtown. They made a left turn to get to the first underpass, but it was flooded. Several disabled cars were stranded at the bottom, many of them underwater.
