by Moore, Jewel
“Come in for a moment,” she invited. “I’ll just get my wrap.”
She heard Stephano’s muffled gasp as he caught a view of her from the back. She smiled to herself as she reached into her small cloakroom for the soft black wrap which complimented her shoes and bag. Earlier she’d tried red accessories and found the ensemble too bold, too in-your-face sexy. Black added sophistication and subtly muted the vibrant color of the dress.
With a twist of her wrists she settled the wrap over her shoulders and turned to face Stephano. He was looking around her tidy living room, but she sensed that he’d looked away a split second before she’d turned.
“Nice place,” he complimented.
“Thank you.” She was proud of her house. Decorating was her only hobby apart from reading and she had done most of the work herself.
He placed his hand at the back of her waist as she preceded him through her front door and towards his car.
“I need to buy myself somewhere soon,” he said, envy tingeing his voice. “I can’t keep living with my parents. It’s becoming embarrassing.”
“Wouldn’t you miss living at home and having your mother pamper you?” she teased as she adjusted the seat belt across her chest.
“I did miss home when I shared a flat with three other students during my first year at King’s College. They were dirty and noisy and life was an endless party. I don’t know how they got any work done. I spent most of the time back at home, so I didn’t renew my contract for a second year.” Stephano laughed. “But maybe I should have used the opportunity to make a run for it. My mother behaves as though I’m divorcing her every time I mention buying my own home.”
“I wanted to stay at home when I went to university, but my mother insisted that I needed to be more independent.” She said the words lightly; he could have no idea of how traumatic leaving home had been.
“My mother probably wouldn’t blink an eye if I told her I was getting married tomorrow and moving my wife into the house.”
Natalie laughed at the image.
“I’m sure she would put her foot down if you tried!”
“You don’t know my mother.” Stephano continued solemnly, “Take my advice: never have an Italian mama.”
“Okay,” she agreed equally seriously and then they both burst out laughing at the absurdity.
“Would she be okay if she knew that we were…” Natalie let the sentence tapered off. They were what? Friends? Lovers?
“She would be fine.” Stephano sounded confident.
“Are you sure?” She didn’t want him to think that she was accusing his mother of being prejudiced, but Natalie needed to know why he was so certain his mother would be fine with the two of them having a relationship.
“Her best friend Shirley’s Jamaican. And you met my mother on my birthday, cara. Did she treat you any differently to the guys?”
“No,” she conceded. If anything his mother had gone out of her way to ensure that she was well looked after.
Natalie had almost not gone to the birthday celebration.
He had announced the first Monday in December, “Guys, my ma’s inviting you all for dinner at the restaurant for my birthday on Friday 16th so don’t make any plans.”
Assumed she wasn’t invited, Natalie had come to work early that morning and logged off her PC an hour earlier than usual at five, not wanting to be there when the last of the group left at six to join the others at the pub and then to the restaurant. The humiliation would have been too much to bear. She had grabbed her bag and was reaching for her jacket when Stephano asked, with something sounding very much like hurt in his voice, “Natalie, aren’t you coming to the restaurant? My mother’s looking forward to meeting you.”
“Me?” she’d asked incredulously.
“Yes, I’ve told her all about you and she wants to meet the brave young woman who works in an office with nine men.”
“I didn’t know that I was invited,” she had admitted honestly.
“Of course you’re invited!” Stephano threw up his hands in typical Italian fashion of disbelief. “You were here when I issued the invitation!”
“Yes, but you said, ‘guys’.”
“You’re one of us, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” she’d conceded. It was a mark of respect and most times she liked the fact that they afforded her mutual respect. But sometimes she wondered if the guys would have found it as easy to think of her as one of them had she been a petite, blue-eyed blonde.
“Well, alright then. Give me another half an hour. I just need to reply to this email and I’ll be ready.” Stephano had picked up his mobile and said, “I’ll just tell the guys to finish their drinks and we’ll leave at half five, instead of six.”
His mother had closed the restaurant for the celebration and it had turned out well. She had flitted around the room encouraging her son’s colleagues to try each of the dishes she had prepared specially for the occasion. She was a petite, expressive woman who entwined English and Italian words in a totally delightful way. It seemed impossible to Natalie that she had lived in the UK for almost thirty years and she’d understood why Stephano’s casual conservations were also heavily punctuated with Italian, especially the endearments—his mother used them at the end of almost every sentence.
Natalie had found disconcerting and oddly appealing to see Stephano’s features mirrored in his mother’s more delicate bone structure. Bizarrely she’d thought that he would look like his father. Santo, his father, wasn’t much taller than his mother and his slightly rotund body showed the effects of her exquisite cooking. Later that evening Antoinette had cupped her son’s face and kissed him on the lips and announced that he was the spitting image of her “Papà”. Natalie had smiled as his mother had hugged him—he had been seated at the time and his mother had been standing and there had been much different in their heights.
His mother had paid Natalie special attention that evening, but she had felt that it was only natural for the woman to gravitate toward the only other female. But treating a dinner guest well was not the same as having that person date your beloved son.
“That doesn’t mean that your mother would be okay with us seeing each other.”
“My mother is a romantic.” Stephano took his left hand off the steering wheel and reached for Natalie’s. “She gave up a life of luxury to run away to Britain with my father. He was a laborer with the construction company my grandfather had hired to build an extension on his mansion. They were both eighteen. They fell in love and when my grandfather had my father fired and sent back to his village, my mother packed a bag and ran behind him. My grandfather’s a powerful man in Italy and my father said that even sending my mother return home wouldn’t have guaranteed his safety. They had to leave the country.”
“Aw, that’s such a sweet story.” Natalie was a sucker for stories of couple surviving against the odds.
“It wasn’t sweet when they arrived here with nothing and my mother already pregnant with me!”
“They obviously made it work.”
Antoinette’s was cozy, with six tables each seating a maximum four people. His mother had said that she was always fully booked, but she didn’t want to larger premises because she like cooking or personally overseeing all the meals herself. She’d said that she also liked being able to have the time to mingle with the diners and ensure that they were all happy with their meals. On Sundays she entertained her special group of regulars, some of whom had been patrons of hers for almost twenty-five years.
“It took them almost five years to get on their feet. My father had to keep a low profile, so they had to avoid the Italian community over here. They didn’t even have enough to pay the large deposits the landlords demanded because my father had just arrived and didn’t have a job yet.” They had a arrived at the Thai restaurant but Stephano parked the car and continued, seeing Natalie’s look of rapt attention. “My mother says if they hadn’t met Shirley Jones she didn’t know how she wo
uld have survived. She and my father had been house hunting all day, carrying their belongings with them. She said that she suddenly felt tired and cold and hungry and started to cry. Shirley was coming from the shops with her daughters, Cheryl and Faye, and one of them said, ‘Mummy, that lady’s crying!’. Shirley invited them in for a cup of tea and when they explained their predicament, she told them that they could stay the night.
“It was only a two-storey house with two bedrooms and two large receptions downstairs, but when Ivan, Shirley’s husband came home and she told him the kind of rent landlord were asking for a single room, he decided to move the living room furniture to the dining room and convert the room into a bedroom for my Mum and Dad to rent.
“It helped my parents save a lot of money and helped the Joneses with their mortgage payments. Shirley had another daughter, Eva, just before my mother had me. They bought double bunk beds for the girls’ room when we were old enough and the older girls had the top bunks and Eva and I had the bottom, but most nights we used to sleep in one or the other. When mother first opened the restaurant, she had to serve breakfast, lunch and dinner to make it profitable and Shirley looked after me for her. People used to call Eva and me the ‘the black and white twins’ when she took us to the shops or to play in the park.” Stephano laughed at the memory as he released the car’s central locking mechanism. It hadn’t been as easy when he and Eva were teenagers—their friendship had incited racial comments and abuse from both races.
***
Within a few minutes of arrival they were shown to their table. The restaurant had a cool elegance that wasn’t typical of the Thai restaurants at which Natalie had previously dined, but the dark wood tables were quite close together.
Natalie had looked forward to having a green curry all day, but changed her mind at the last minute when she thought of the creamy coconut milk. She and Stephano both ordered Pla Tod Sam Rod, whole de-boned sea bass with a chili, tamarind and lemongrass sauce. She wasn’t particularly hungry, but when his Thot Man Kung, deep-fried crab cakes flavored with red curry paste and finely-chopped lime leaves, arrived it smelled heavenly. When he offered her a bite, she shook her head.
“Try it,” he encouraged. “It’s very tasty.”
She leaned in, took the morsel and found it as scrumptious as it looked.
When he offered another piece, she took it, trying not to appear too eager.
And the proximity of the tables lent intimacy, she discovered as they spent the next forty-five minutes chatting pleasantly and enjoying the beautifully presented food. Leaning in to whisper, so as not to be overheard by the occupants of the next table, created a coziness that wouldn’t have been likely in a larger restaurant.
They were mostly silent on the short journey to her house. She watched him covertly as he drove the racing red Jaguar XKR Convertible—she had a thing about cars and knew how expensive the model was—expertly, letting the power steering work for him. The car with its big-cat sleekness suited Stephano perfectly.
“Would you like to come in for coffee?” He’d had a glass of wine with the meal and they had both refused coffee and dessert. She needed to ensure that he was sober enough for the drive home.
Oh come on, Natalie! You may as well have said, would you like to come in and have me! she chided herself.
“Yes, please,” Stephano responded readily, coming around to open the car door for her.
He kept her hand in his as he remotely locked the car, opened the gate and hurried up her walkway. Thrumming with excitement, she fumbled to open her front door. And as soon as she did, Stephano wrapped his arms around her and kissed her hungrily even before the door closed behind them.
At the touch of his lips she was right where she had been two Fridays ago—aroused, needy…and desired. His arms were a welcome cage of muscle that made her feel secure and safe from the world.
“This dress is driving me out of my mind, cara.” Stephano’s chest rose and fell rapidly as he broke the kiss. “I want to take it off you.”
He was asking her permission and all she had to say was “no”, but she couldn’t.
Instead of answering, she turned and led the way up to her bedroom.
She expected them to undress hurriedly when they got there. Instead Stephano slowly unwrapped the black Pashmina shawl and looked at her.
“I was worried that you would pop out of this dress all evening.” He slid his fingers on the delicate straps and pinged them softly. They looked delicate but were quite secure. “I was worried, but at the same time hopeful that it would happen.”
Natalie chuckled at his honesty as he slid the strap off her shoulder and bent to kiss the exposed flesh. He trailed his lips to the slender column of her neck and she shivered in reaction as he stirred the erogenous zones there. He seemed intent on taking it slowly, but she was already on fire.
Reaching up blindly, she opened the top buttons of his shirt and ran her hands over his smooth shoulders as he lowered the other strap and slowly eased the zip of her dress downwards.
“Take it off, cara,” he commanded as he stepped back and pulled his shirt free. He shrugged out of it and reached down to open his belt as she let the dress slowly fall to the floor.
She felt the urge to cover her breasts as she stood in front of him in nothing but her tiny red thong, but something in his gaze made her feel beautiful .
“Magnifica,” he breathed, stepping out of his trousers and reaching for her once again. “Perfezione.”
His erection pressed against her as he lowered her onto the queen-sized bed. His weight pressed her down into the bed and for a moment she felt a little panicked when she remembered the initial pain of his penetration the first time they’d made love. But it hadn’t lasted, she remembered, and relaxed as his lips covered hers and his tongue pressed its way past her lips.
Stephano reigned in his excitement with iron control. The feel of Natalie’s soft skin against his was driving him out of his mind, but he refused to repeat his shameful performance of two weeks ago. Her perfume filled his nostrils and he realized that the scent was so subtle only someone who was intimately close got the pleasure of it. Somehow it made being this close feel more special. He was doing something other men didn’t have the pleasure of sharing.
He cupped her breast, liking the way it filled but didn’t overflow his large hand. It was the perfect size. He loved its springy firmness and the fact that her nipple was already erect. He groaned deep in his throat and tweaked into marble hardness. He heard her moan as he trailed soft kisses on her dewy skin on his way to capture the distended nub of flesh in his mouth.
He loved the way she responded to the simplest caress. He didn’t know how many past lovers she’d had but he felt almost as though he was making love to a virgin. She stroked his shoulders softly but did nothing to arouse him. He was used to sexually-mature women who gave as much pleasure as they got and though he had enjoyed that very much, there was something special about the novelty of having a woman who allowed him to take the lead and didn’t challenge for control.
She gasped as he used his teeth and lips to nibble and tug on the erect points of one breast and then the other. He could do it all night, he thought, just to hear her throaty moans and feel her fingers digging into his shoulders. Pulling the flesh deep into his mouth he gave it one last long suckle and then slowly let it go.
“No!” she protested, cupping the back of his head and trying to keep him in place.
He resisted and made his way downwards, dipping his tongue into the hollow of her navel and continuing southwards.
***
A tiny sliver of sunlight filtered through a gap in her heavy bedroom drapes as Natalie woke up spooned by Stephano. His arm was heavy around her waist and she felt so happy it brought instant tears to her eyes. She had never woken up with Michael in bed with her. He’d said that he wasn’t used to sharing a bed and couldn’t sleep with someone next to him. She’d believed him and hadn’t known what she’d missed u
ntil this moment.
Sex with Michael had been okay, with nothing to compare to; with Stephano it had felt the way it was described in romance novels. Stephano had acted as though his only thought was pleasing her.
She and Stephano had talked and made love, talked some more and then made love again before he’d fallen asleep.
She had wanted to ask him about the other woman a thousand times, but hadn’t wanted the perfection of the night of happiness she’d decided to grab for herself. If he told her the truth about the woman, it would hurt too much. If he lied, it would hurt even more.
Long after he had fallen asleep, she had lain in the darkness, wrapped in his muscular arms, breathing in his familiar scent, listening to the sound of his breathing and crying because her heart was breaking.
She wished she could accept what he was able to offer her.
She had tried to hold something back—not give too much of herself as they’d made love, but her love had been like a river bursting its banks, unstoppable.
Women shared men all the time, she knew, but she was greedy—she wanted all of him, or none at all. She couldn’t share him. Tonight as he touched her, reverently like she was a fragile piece of glass, all she could think of was him touching that other woman in the same way. She wondered if the other woman’s scent was more intoxicating, if she was tastier on his tongue. Stephano didn’t seem to notice or mind that she hadn’t gone down on him. She couldn’t help thinking that the other woman was probably miles better at it than she would ever be.
“Do you know a few of the guys would kill to be where I am right now?” Stephano breathed in her ear, his arm tightening possessively around her waist.
“Eh?” She was so surprised she let out the inelegant sound her mother detested. She and Nathan took great pleasure in saying it to each other in private, but occasionally it slipped out unconsciously. “I mean, pardon?”
