Chapter 16: New Love, Old Doubts

Alicia's heart thumped in her throat — the racing blood made her feel dizzy. It also made her fingers fumble as she closed the door of her car. She stood in the late afternoon light — my God, was she nervous. Slowly she turned and walked up to the house, clutching her purse and the bottle of wine, wrapped in gift paper.

She wore modest heels and her spaghetti-strapped sundress. The balmy evening breeze caressed her legs. She had brushed her hair into luscious perfection, letting it tumble down her back, where it bounced against her exposed skin with every step she took. Her large eyes gained added expression from the subtle pencil-lines and dabbed-on shadow. She'd even glossed her lips.

The wooden walls of the house had been painted white, she saw. Its well-kept lawn seemed to go all around it — a flagstone path running up to a front door porch with white, tall columns. Alicia pulled the chain that made a bell chime. Inside she heard the sound of heels approaching — slower than the rhythm of her racing heart.

The door opened.

The woman was about half a head taller. She was in her early forties, but the proud poise of her body gave her an ageless class — so did the ivory blouse and knee length carbon-black skirt. Her elegant pumps had quite daring heels. The dark hair was up; horn-rimmed glasses framed her gaze.

"Alicia," she said, smiling. Her voice had warmth; her hands grabbed Alicia's to pull her in. "So wonderful to have you tonight." There was a slight accent to her English. It betrayed Italian roots.

"Good evening, Carmela," Alicia said and there was a hesitant hug, followed by kisses that mostly met the air next to their cheeks. Dior, Alicia thought, inhaling the perfume.

The house was lovely. Two tall windows allowed the sinking sun to highlight endless stretches of oiled oak floors and the well-polished limbs of antique furniture. There were blue rugs and colored pillows, but most of her attention was drawn to the floor-to-ceiling bookcases, filled with a thousand books, some of them looking ancient.

Between two bookcases stood a marble statue of two naked girls kissing. And between the windows facing them was a huge copper vase filled with yellow roses.

"Welcome to my house, Alicia," Carmela said, smiling as she saw how overwhelmed the girl was. "Please do feel comfortable."

Carmela took the bottle of wine and lead her into what was obviously the dining room. There was a big shining table at the center, but in a niche to the back was a much smaller round table. It was covered with white damask and set with crystal glasses and porcelain plates. Lit candles made the silverware sparkle. From an invisible source Cecilia Bartoli sang Rossini. It was from La Cenerentola, Alicia knew — Cinderella, how appropriate.

"I'll show you my humble house later, Alicia," Carmela said, taking off her spectacles. "For now, please be seated. Let's have a glass of bubbles — I'm sure you'll appreciate this lovely Prosecco from my native country."

She took the bottle from the cooler, popped its cork and poured some into a couple of slender glasses. The liquid hissed in white fury, then slowly calmed into a clear, sparkling wine. They toasted.

"To a newfound friendship," Carmela said. Alicia felt the bubbles dance in her mouth and down her throat.

She also felt her muscles relax.

The dinner was wonderful. It started off with a fresh salad, deliciously dressed with oil and balsamico vinegar. Carmela explained what was in it — sundried pomodori and tangy ruccola, roasted pine seeds and freshly cut buffalo mozzarella. And of course a subtle sprinkling of Umbrian truffles.

They ate and talked and drank Prosecco. And while they did, the sun went down; night enfolded their candle-lit niche. In the background Puccini's Madama Butterfly became Donizetti's Lucia di Lammermoor — how sad, how sweet. Alicia closed her eyes and let the music's melancholy mix with her wine-induced buzz.

To follow up on the salad there had been a small dish of pasta picante with a bite of peppers and garlic and a lovely dab of red pesto. Of course they covered it with freshly ground Parmesan cheese.

With the pasta Carmela insisted they change to a nice deeply red Barolo wine. Alicia's gaze was lost for a moment in the ruby liquid. It reflected the candlelight as if tiny fireflies floated inside. She smiled widely when Carmela once more proposed a toast.

"I could get to love this," she whispered. Carmela caught her eyes.

"I sure hope you will," she answered and they laughed. Then Carmela rose and asked Alicia to take her glass and follow her to see the house. When she did she felt the effect of the wine — her heels seemed twice as high, and wobbly.

The house was incredible. A wonderfully crafted staircase brought them to a corridor filled with paintings and little statues — and more books of course. There was a huge marble bathroom that had this romantic claw-foot tub she'd often seen in vintage movies, and antique framed mirrors all around.

When they reached the master bedroom, Carmela turned around and kissed Alicia full on the lips, making her moan with surprise. Her knees buckled and she melted into the woman who by now had pried her lips open and dashed her tongue between them. The entire world floated and gyrated. She desperately tried to find a place to leave her glass, but when she thought she'd found one, the precious crystal crashed on the wooden floor.

"Oh my God!" she gasped.

"My Goddess," Carmela chuckled and led her to the huge four-poster bed. There they kissed again, Carmela sliding her hand inside Alicia's dress. She pushed up the soft satin bra and sent a million pinpricks up and down the girl's spine.

The lovemaking was slow and delicious. Carmela never hurried while undressing the sweet girl she had caught in her web of candy floss and gossamer. She lazily caressed the olive skin, kissing the tiny cup at the base of the throat, sensing a pulse with her tongue tip. She never hurried while her lips closed on the small but sensitive nipples. She took her time to run her tongue down the chest and into the dip of the belly button. She smiled slowly while enjoying the girl's breathless gasps and little squeals of delight.

Dio mio, she thought, as she peeled the tiny thong off the shaven pussy lips. The filmy fabric was dark with moisture. So very wet she is, and so very ready, she thought, tasting the juices that seeped from the pouting slit. When her tongue at last found the girl's clit, she was amazed how promptly she came and the desperation of her cry. Alicia shook and trembled in her embrace, echoing the explosion of her release with a chain of aftershocks.

After she recovered, Alicia opened Carmela's lovely silk blouse, burying her face between creamy breasts. They were covered by a lace-and-satin bra. Hard and pointing nipples pushed against the shiny material as she sucked them through the fabric.

Carmela's cries lost all connection to the English language by the time Alicia's mouth and fingers reached her carefully trimmed mound and weeping pussy. They were both naked by then and Alicia turned around to swing her leg over Carmela, offering her own pussy. Their orgasms were fast and furious before stretching out into a string of smaller and sweeter climaxes.

"Now for dessert," Carmela panted when at last they lay on the bed, exhausted. Their limbs were strangled in a truly Gordian knot of spent passion. They both chuckled. Then Carmela sat up, looking down on Alicia's shining face in its forest of tangled hair.

"Seriously, mi amore," she said. "Come on, you must taste my famous Tiramisu!" She jumped off the bed and threw Alicia a hot, wet towel to clean up. Then she found her a pretty silk robe, tying another one around her own waist.

The dessert tasted great, the sweet calories replenishing their lost energy. The coffee was strong and sweet as well.

"Next time I cook for you," Alicia said as she slid her slippery silk ass into Carmela's lap, kissing her face. "I am a very good cook, you know? My home-made houmous is famous, and you'll lick your lovely fingers when we eat from all the little dishes of my mezzes." She licked Carmela's fingertips while she referred to them, sucking each digit with relish.

After Alicia returned home from her visit to Carmela, she lay in bed, still relishing the sweet tingles that traveled up and down her body. Her fingers slowly circled her clit. It radiated a lovely glow. She sighed and thought back to the moment she accidentally met with Carmela.

While delivering a pile of flyers she'd designed, this very elegant woman approached her. She had intelligent brown eyes, smiling below black bangs. She wore a wonderfully tailored longish jacket of a soft knitted material. There were no buttons. It was wrapped around her chest and fell almost to her knees like a skirt. Under it she wore wide slacks of the same color and material.

The woman asked to see a flyer and complimented her on the quality of the design. Then she asked if Alicia maybe could help her with a similar graphic problem and they ended up discussing it over coffee.

Alicia assured herself that the meeting was purely business, but when the woman's fingers kept touching her too often to be accidental, her face flushed crimson.