The man and woman at the corner table in the hotel dining room were clearly arguing. The man's swarthy face showed some exasperation as he waved a finger in the air. The woman, with tawny, shoulder length hair, and slender from Dan's rear view, pointed an occasional finger as she responded. They were clearly talking in low tones since they attracted no attention from nearer tables.
Dan Tiernan turned away, not interested in the troubles of others. He was still trying to decide whether this two week break in Riva, Lake Garda, had been such a good idea. It had been his elder sister, Anna, who had talked him into it. Practically forced him into it, having bought the flight, and booked a single room in the hotel.
"You need a break. It's been two years now, Dan," she'd said. "You can't go on grieving forever. Carol wouldn't have wished that on you." Three years his senior, his sister had attempted an encouraging smile, as she added, "You might get an idea for your next novel."
The very idea of Carol's wishes had stung him. He missed her so much. Ever since that awful day he had found it impossible to talk about her or the accident, even to those closest to him. For months afterwards his mind had been full of how cruel life could be. Married for six exciting years, and talking about putting their mutual passion for each other to more than just pleasure, by starting a family, all of that had suddenly been smashed away.
Although Anna was not aware of it, Dan had, over recent months, tried to shake himself out of his sorrowful state. On separate occasions, two friends of Carol's, both divorcees, had offered to ease, in the first lady's case, 'his pain', and in the second, 'his natural frustrations.' In both cases there had been a vague agreement that the occasion was only to be a one off, but, Dan sensed that his being a rising author might have been high in their sympathetic offers.
Dan was well aware that his libido was still operating, having woken up with a rigid erection more than once. Each of those occasions had left him feeling sad, very lonely, and needing a cold shower. So any attempt to tackle the problem had some appeal after fifteen months or so.
The first lady, whose name was Louise, invited him for a coffee one Saturday afternoon. After only a few minutes of idle chat she was sitting beside him, then she was touching his arm. Soon they were kissing, and Dan was aware of her rather lumpy figure under her dress. Despite that, within the half hour, Louise, having made her declaration of easing his pain, lay naked beside him on her bed.
Naked, she was singularly loose fleshed and unattractive, and Dan played desultory homage to her hefty, but sagging breasts, knowing for sure that his penis was not going to react in any way. But that was mainly because she had mentioned Carol too many times. He left the lady with his profound apologies.
His second encounter, Fran, a dark haired lady, who Dan had always found most attractive, with her slim figure, wide eyes and full generous mouth. Just how generous he was to find out on the day after his thirty second birthday, when she arrived at his front door, bearing a bottle of malt whiskey as a gift. Very grateful, Dan had immediately opened the bottle and they'd sipped at a tot each, talked, during which Fran got around to his natural frustrations.
Within seconds they were kissing, and she was twisting her body to urge his hand to cover her breast. When bed became the obvious next step, Dan was careful to avoid the main bedroom, Carol's domain, and soon they were naked together on the bed in the second bedroom. Dan found some pleasure in fondling Fran's hand-sized breasts, and in letting his fingers discover the moistness between her thighs, almost desperately keeping his mind away from the last time he had been this far with a woman.
Just a little anxious at how his own body might react he was relieved to find that under the ministrations of Fran's fingers, and that generous mouth as it played over and around his penis, his erection was very quickly up to near full intensity. But, as she released it from her mouth, and parted eager thighs to draw him into her, she murmured, "Carol was so lucky."
With his penis head touching at her labia, the collapse was almost instant, one second erect the next, flaccid. Dan was shocked, but maybe not as much as Fran, who gasped, moaned and gripped and tugged frantically at his limp member- nothing. As a kind of apology he was able to bring her to a secondary climax using his fingers. And then, once again, it was a case of 'Sorry and goodbye.'
Just yesterday, saying farewell at the airport, Anna had whispered, "You never know you might meet some gorgeous Italian lady." Dan could not imagine anything like that happening. But he was here, it was eight fifteen and the mountains, visible through the open window and beyond the tall palm trees, were bright in the morning sunshine, as he ate his breakfast. He had made no real plans about how he would spend his days, but with two weeks ahead of him he felt he had plenty of time.
Breakfast over he took a stroll down to the ferry terminal in the centre of town armed with his camera, and his notebook. The long low ferry afforded a pleasant ride over the waters of Lake Garda. He went ashore at the first stop, the village of Limone, which took its name from the once thriving lemon industry that had operated in the area. Dan saw many tourist- tempting artefacts relating to that industry. He took many photographs and decided he would text Anna to let her know that he was already more relaxed.
A small pizzeria took his eye, its brightly coloured frontage, and the smiling faces of the people sitting at tables outside, enjoying the sunshine tempted him into taking a couple of shots from different angles. Then, wanting to be part of it, he went and sat at one of the tables. In no time he was tucking into a delicious pizza, and downing a refreshingly cool beer.
Dan was reaching for his notebook when he noticed a couple sitting close together at a table on the other side of the patio. It was the man's swarthy face that he noticed. Was it the guy he'd seen in the dining room that morning? No, it couldn't be. The lady whose shoulder he was stroking, whose black hair he occasionally nuzzled, proved that. His companion in the hotel had hair the colour of a lioness.
As he watched, the pair stood, and the man in a red and white sports shirt, put his arm around her and they walked off down the street. In other circumstances Dan might have felt quite envious. The lady was quite a beauty in a low cut blouse that suggested warm curves underneath.
Dan made a few notes, about the general bustling streets around him. Then he continued his stroll, before heading back to the ferry. Back at the hotel he treated himself to a cool shower. The intense heat on his first day he found had enervated him, and naked, he lay back on the bed.
Carol, with that so beloved calculating smile she adopted at such teasing moments, was standing naked over him, as she stooped slightly to stroke at his scrotum. Then, one of her favourite little tricks, as his penis rose in response, she swooped her head down and enveloped it into her warm mouth.
Her long black hair flared over his groin. Dan, in ecstasy, reached for her delightfully pert breasts, but somehow they were out of reach. But they couldn't be. She was attending to him from the side, her mouth sucking with that so familiar keen gentility. Her breasts were close to hand, within touching distance surely. Yet every time he reached for them he failed to make contact.
He twisted his body in another vain attempt, and the mouth was gone from his erection. Carol was gone. He was alone, in a bed in his hotel room. The dream was over, yet, as he looked down he saw that his erection remained, although, even as he looked it became less tumescent, quickly collapsing. A tear ran down his cheek. Was this teasing all that remained for him?
Dressed in pale blue pants and a dark blue shirt he went down to the dining hall. As soon as he entered, he glanced towards the corner table. The couple were there as before, and great heavens, they were arguing again. Tawny hair tossed as the lady with her back to him responded to something her partner had said. Allowing himself a wry smile, Dan had little doubt what the argument was about. For the swarthy faced man was still wearing the red and white sports shirt he had been wearing for his amorous meeting with the dark haired lady.
Material for a story? Maybe, but, what the hell business was it of his? He had decided, since he was in Italy, to eat Italian that night. So, he enjoyed a vegetable minestrone soup, followed by a most succulent lasagne like he had never tasted before. A glass of fine Italian red washed it all down.
Just as he was finishing, the scraping of a chair drew his attention back to the corner table. Swarthy face was on his feet, looking angry, and, with an contemptuous gesture in the face of the woman, he strode out of the dining hall. One or two heads had turned this time, and some comments were exchanged at tables close to the corner. The tawny haired woman remained seated, straight backed in her pale blue summer dress.
Dan, knowing what he did, couldn't help feeling a little sorry for her, but then, he reminded himself that he knew nothing about the full circumstances. The woman reached into a small handbag, to produce a handkerchief or tissue which she dabbed at her face. Waiters were taking orders for dessert, and, when one approached the woman, her head shook. But she said something and the waiter nodded. Then, she very quickly gathered up her bag and stood to leave.
