After an hour of wandering windy Florentine streets, the four of us finally found the Tuscan restaurant Gianni recommended. It seemed only seconds between the time we were seated, menus scoured, food ordered, and the carafe of table wine emptied.
Soon the conversation flowed as easily as the wine down our gullets as we got to know each other.
Earlier, just off a train from Rome, Alice and I had drug our bedraggled behinds to our hostel, a small flat with one large room full of impossibly ancient bunk beds and twin beds pushed together.
We immediately befriended The Twins from San Diego, Jim and Carrie, dumped our bags under our beds, and headed off to find sustenance.
Over spicy risotto, antipasto and, of course, glass after glass of dulcet vino guzzled like juice from tall thick glasses, the four of us filled our bellies and let the laughter fly.
Aided by the crimson courage only wine can lubricate, sexual tension flew between me and Jim. He was entirely too young for me, but whip smart and oh so pretty. I wasn’t exactly hard up. I’d just left Giampaolo in Rome who was probably working his way up another favorite American girl’s skirt at that moment. But what the hell.
Jim was innocent and as the evening wore on, he became more and more tempting. It soon became clear Alice was attracted to him too and, though it wasn’t my style to compete, suddenly I was an Olympian and Jim was a gold medal. He would be mine, at least for tonight.
Back to the hostel, with one stop at a liquor store for more wine, and the evening was just beginning. More wine. Hours of antics. More wine. We girls compared boob sizes and flexibility and we each shared embarrassing talents, including my imitation of a Howler Monkey and Tiramisu face.
Soon pajamas were changed into and we found ourselves settling in, ready to pass out. On a whim, I announced I’d be a twin sandwich and crawled between Jim and Carrie. Suddenly I was captured, pulled under the covers and subsequently under a half naked man.
Between kisses, he nervously whispered that he couldn’t do this in front of his sister. We hushed and the only other sounds in the room were the giggles and sighs of Carrie and Alice coming from one bed. Seemed she didn’t have the same hangup.
I awoke the next morning to a goodbye kiss, a view of a room full of empty wine bottles and grape-stained glasses, and The Twins leaving to catch a train to Amsterdam.
This was a post for the RemembeRED prompt: “Give me a memory of the color red. Do not write the word 'red' but use words that engender the color red when you hear them. For example: a ruby, a tomato, fire, blood. Writing has the elegance of mathematics. Try to write economically. A red cherry is redundant. Cherry is enough unless it’s one of the yellow ones from Washington state. Then it’s a yellow cherry. But, otherwise, cherry immediately wakes up the color red in the mind.”
|My Tiramisu face, while demonstrating how flexible I was, on a dare.|
I never share photos for RemembeRED, but couldn't resist sharing this one.