The Chance Meeting
A few weeks had passed since our visit to the little beach cove. Carol and I found ourselves back in Bari, and the memory of our shared night with Matthias hadn't faded. There was a new openness between us, a renewed sense of curiosity.
The evening of our second day back we decided to visit our favorite local wine room tucked into a quiet alley off the old city center, Carol and I sat at our usual corner table, candles flickering, smooth jazz playing. The wine, as always, was superb.
Across the room, an attractive couple caught our eye, though it wasn't immediately clear why.
They didn't call attention to themselves. No loud voices, no exaggerated gestures. But there was something about them, something magnetic and intriguing.
I noticed the woman first. Easy on the eyes. She sat with one bare shoulder angled toward the candlelight, red hair tumbling down her back in soft waves. Her black evening dress clung to her curves in all the right places. Her partner sat across the table from her, tall, handsome, the kind of man who didn't need to say much to own the space around him.
Carol was drawn to them too.
We both felt the magnetism. No mistaking it.
Carol leaned in. "They've been looking our way."
I raised an eyebrow. "You're not exactly being discrete. And by the way beautiful, the revealing dress your wearing would make anyone want to look."
She smirked. "You're so sweet. Your handsome looking as well, my love. Especially in those tight jeans and the Italian sport coat. They are sizing you up too, you know."
We sipped our wine and soaked up the beautiful live jazz music. Relaxed. As we were just about to pay the check and head back to our apartment rental, the lovely woman with red hair approached our table.
"Bonsoir (Good Evening). Salut (Hi). My name is Isabelle and my husband's name is Julien." It became immediately clear her accent was French." Pardonnez-moi (Please forgive me), I hope this is not too forward," she said with a Parisian lilt, "but my husband and I... we'd love to buy you both a drink sometime. We love meeting new friends. We are both from Paris on vacation here in Bari. Can you tell?"
Carol looked at me, then back at her. "My husband and I are on vacation as well from the US. I am Carol and this my husband George. We'd love to take you up on your offer. Your both so kind."
Then she walked back to their table. My eyes tracked her beautiful curves as she walked back to their table. She looked stunning in her long dress. Even Carol commented on it.
We finished our drinks but were not in a big hurry to leave. At least not right away. There was an unspoken hesitation, anticipation, like the moment just before a first kiss. Carol glanced at me; her brow arched in that way that always meant, shall we? I gave her the faintest nod.
Instead of heading for the door, we crossed the room toward Isabelle, weaving between tables amid the sound of soft jazz and clinking glasses. The air smelled of citrus.
Julien stood as we approached. He was taller than he'd seemed from across the room, broad-chested, dressed in a simple white linen shirt with the sleeves casually rolled. His smile was confident but not overbearing. He seemed warm, handsome, curious.
"Bonsoir (Good evening). Enchanté (Delighted to meet you). I am Julien," he said with a faint French accent, he took Carol's hand and gave the back of her hand a gentle kiss.
"It's a pleasure to meet you both."
He then extended his hand to me. His grip was firm and deliberate.
"And you must be the couple we couldn't help but notice. You make a lovely pair."
He gestured toward the empty seats at their table. "S'il vous plait (Please), sit with us."
The candle between us flickered as we took our places, the small table brought us close by design. Isabelle seated herself beside Carol, her bare shoulder brushing lightly against my wife's as she reached for her menu, whether intentionally or not, I couldn't tell.
She didn't ask what we wanted. She simply smiled at the waiter and said, "Another round for all of us, merci (Thank you), something a little playful and fun this time."
Carol tilted her head. "Playful?"
Isabelle grinned. "A surprise. Something that might reveal a little more than just taste."
Julien chuckled under his breath, his eyes flicking between Carol and me.
Whatever this was, it definitely wasn't rushed. But it also seemed far from being random.
What began as polite conversation quickly turned to music, travel, the beauty of Bari's old city, what life in France was like. Beneath it all was an unmistakable undercurrent of hidden intentions. A low, steady current of mutual curiosity.
Julien watched Carol like a hawk. Clearly, interested in her, but always polite. Isabelle, meanwhile, seemed fascinated by both of us, especially the way we touched: Carol's fingers grazing my thighs as she laughed, the way she leaned into me, claiming me, even as her eyes kept darting toward Isabelle.
"I love couples like you," Isabelle said at one point, her voice velvet-smooth. "So, connected. So... open. So fun. Tellement amoureuse (So in love)"
Julien raised his glass. "To getting to know my new Amis (friends) and also, to opening doors."
We clinked glasses.
Before the night ended, Isabelle slipped a card onto the table, embossed with her name, Julien's name, and a local number.
"No pressure my lovelies," she said, her tone light but her eyes lingering on Carol. "But if you're ever curious and have the time... we live near the waterfront. We'd love to have you over and get to know you both better."
Carol looked at me, her smile unreadable but her eyes gleaming with that particular kind of mischief I'd come to know well.
"That's perfect. We will be in touch," she said smoothly. "I'll call you and let you know."
We said our goodbyes and began walking back through the quiet streets of Bari, Carol's arm linked with mine. We didn't talk much but the energy between us was electric, charged with unspoken questions and the thrill of possibility.
The Second Encounter
The next afternoon, I found Carol standing by the window of our rental flat, phone in hand, biting her lower lip. I already knew what she was up to.
"Are you calling Isabella and Julien?" I asked.
She nodded, still looking out at the sunlit alley. "To say hello and see..."
A brief pause. Then I heard her voice shift, brighter, flirtier. Obviously, Isabelle had answered.
I did not want to eavesdrop, so I went to get a glass of Barolo. They didn't talk for long. When Carol hung up, she walked over to me, cheeks faintly flushed. "We're invited for drinks at their place. Friday night. Just casual."
She said it casually. But we both secretly knew it might become something more.
Friday night arrived and we met them again at their apartment near the water. Candles were lit. Wine poured. Laughter. The chemistry between all of us was undeniable. The four of us danced around the edges of flirtation with elegant restraint.
