After a few miles you can get off the rough paving stones, then hit the ones worn down by centuries, then as you get nearer the coast you hit the asphalt and can open the throttle. At first a lot of gravel kicks up, but as you speed uphill the wind comes in off the ocean at an angle and you head straight into it, good clean air.
I could move the Vespa up to fifty but that was it with a passenger. Any kind of weight slowed it right down, but I didn't mind because of who I was carrying. I had my crash helmet on, and the chivalrous thing would have been to let her use it, but...I wanted to see or just picture that hair blowing straight out in the wind...that lustrous mane of streaked candy colored silk, as delicious as a glimmering candy apple at Christmas. I had to get my hands on that hair too, to thrust my fingers into that sun kissed sweet thickness, so thick and rich and flowing I'd probably get stuck in it.
I stopped close by the ruins of an ancient Roman temple. There was a long slope down to the sea. It was hot, and the sun was directly overhead, glowing like a lamp, without any humidity. The sky was a clear crystal blue, the sea at the horizon was a deep cerulean blue, shading toward a light greenish blue at the shoreline, and the foam of the surf was a bluish tinged white. My Vespa was a blue-grey. All blues except for the ochre stones of the temple and the sand.
But the most delicious color was red. Long red curly hair. And she had on a sleeveless shirt of red stripes. She was an American girl, named Sue. She wasn't pale or willowy like the English or uselessly voluptuous like the French or slightly malnourished like the rest of the Europeans. This was an American woman, athletic, strong, thickly built for sports or outdoor work or horseriding or things like that. A pioneer woman. Independent. The whole structure of her body seemed to support the full forward thrust of her magnificent breasts, firm as melons, straining against the red striped cotton. When I stopped the Vespa and kicked out the stand, she jumped off lightly. Even with red hair,and a fair complexion, her skin held a delicious coppery tan. Across her cheeks and her snubby nose was a slight sunburn. All red. All ready to eat. My mouth was watering.
We wanted to get out of the sun, and out of the ocean wind, so she led me past the ancient columns under a stone alcove where there was a little angle of shade. I grabbed her around her waist. She wasn't delicate- Above her hips she felt like solid muscle. I desperately wanted my hands on the swell of her breasts but couldn't work up the nerve yet, so I grabbed her tighter and tried to pull her toward me, but there was some resistance.
