The man picks up on my hesitation. “You are welcome to leave with him. But I guarantee you will have a very pleasant night if you stay.” He shrugs off his suit jacket and starts to unfasten his cuff links.
“Your ten minutes in the bar are up. The only way you’re staying is if you stay with me. Decide,” he orders.
He’s taking off his clothes. “You want to do it here?” I ask. Oh my God. What? What is happening? Am I doing this?
He starts to unbutton his white shirt. “Mmhm.”
“I’ve never done it in a bar,” I say.
“Me either.”
“Somehow, that makes it special,” I reply, and I know this is my vagina talking. She’s in need of a pounding, and we have an eligible candidate.
The man whose name starts with an A takes off his shirt.
All muscle. All beautiful peaks and valleys of naturally tanned muscle.
“I’m afraid someone will walk in.”
“Antonio will guard the door.”
The man picks me up and sets me on the bar. My legs part right away so he can step between them. Strong arms encircle my hips, holding me down even as he asks, “What’s it going to be, Sunshine?”
Sunshine.I laugh. “Well then, I can’t resist a midnight romp from Mr. Grump.”
TWO
THEY BURNED MY PASSPORT
Tourist
Mr. Grump had his way with me in the bar, and when I say he had his way with me, I mean he bent me over the bar and the bar chair. In fact, he spent more time eating me out in the span of two hours than my ex did in all the years we dated.
After my first two orgasms, I thought we’d go our separate ways, but he offered to pay for a room in the hotel so I didn’t have to walk all the way to the other side of the island. The island’s owner banned cars because his sister died when she was hit by one, so I couldn’t take a cab, and the carriage services stop at two in the morning.
I accepted the offer.
It’s four in the morning when I wake up and sneak out of the hotel the same way I used to sneak out of the bedroom I shared with my ex. Quieter than a mouse walking past a napping cat. The sun’s not up yet and the streets are dark, but I’m not afraid. This island has been voted one of the safest places in the world, which is one of the reasons the travel magazine I write for sent me here during my last few days in Europe.
We’re curious how the island manages such a high influx of people from all over the world. For one, it caters to the wealthy. Two, the carriages make a difference. There’s no traffic noise, no rush, nowhere people have to be, and if they do, they’re used to getting there on foot, by bicycle, or in a horse-drawn carriage.
The locals know one another, and they set the expectations for the tourists. Much like Antonio from the bar, they’re friendly. He wasn’t rude, just factual about them being closed and that I could still get my drink elsewhere.
Also, in the summer, there’s a high concentration of families that keep the peace for the sake of their kids. Officers patrol the beaches but don’t seem to enforce anything. They’re also approachable and often take pictures with tourists, as tourists want to take pictures with cops on horses.
I’m making my way down the street, toward the other end of the island, when I hear someone call out. I turn to see a man peddling a bicycle toward me. He stops and tips his baseball hat. It’s Antonio, the bartender.
“Do you need a ride?” He points at a red sidecar attached to the bicycle.
“I’ve been meaning to get into one of these ever since I saw one.” I climb inside the small space, and Antonio starts peddling. It’s a little awkward to have a man puling all my weight but when in Rome (or close to it), do what Romans do.
I’m not sure if Romans did what I did with Mr. Grump, but it sure was fun and something to take back home with me, quietly. Tonight’s sexcapades won’t make it into the travel magazine, though I bet if I mentioned even a tiny bit of how that man fucked me, the magazine would sell out the print copies. Even if I have no pictures of Mr. Grump.
Not that I didn’t try. I asked if I could take a picture of him in bed. He declined.
We pass a bakery, and inside, a man turns on the light, probably starting his day while I’m finishing up mine. We move past two men on horses and a few joggers and reach the roundabout with a church on my left.
Antonio slows down. “Where are you staying?”
