On Wednesday morning, we checked out of the hotel and took a taxi to the train station. I had pre-paid tickets on the high-speed train to Venice. We had a private compartment, but the door was clear glass, so we couldn't do any serious fooling around. The countryside zipped by and, as usual, I was amazed at the amount of farmland and just plain wilderness that covers large parts of northern Italy.
The train pulled into the Santa Lucia train station on the Grand Canal in Venice. A water taxi took us to the Hotel San Cassiano not far away. The hotel was small and not especially luxurious, but it was quiet and I liked the location. I'd booked a room on the top floor looking out over the Grand Canal.
When we went out for lunch, I was careful to point out the landmarks and signs the girls would need to find the hotel again. There are no wheeled vehicles in Venice. People get around by walking or taking the water busses called "vaporettos". Most streets are only five to ten feet wide with four or five story buildings on both sides. The streets would be called "alleys" anywhere else in the world. The streets basically follow the S-shaped Grand Canal. It's easy to get disoriented. GPS is useless, since the devices can almost never see enough sky to lock onto a satellite.
We ate in a very small café with a canal on one side and a plaza on the other. After lunch, Lora announced that she wanted to explore on her own. She walked off heading more-or-less east.
"She'll be lost in ten minutes," I told Carley. "It's a small town, though. She'll be okay."
I bought Carley a gelato.
"Lora wants to go to the island of Murano tomorrow," I said between bites. "Did she say anything to you about it?"
"Yes, she did. It sounds like fun. I like the chandelier in our room and it's from Murano. It's a cool style."
"Okay, now I know you're nuts! Murano glass is the ugliest shit in the world. Woof! Ugly, horrible, gaudy crap! You girls have fun. I'll stay here and troll for pussy."
"It's not ugly, it's lovely! The colors are fantastic! You have no taste at all!"
"Well, you're not the first one to make that observation, but try to remember who I'm standing here with. If I have no taste, what am I doing with you?"
"Damned if I know. I just hope you don't come to your senses."
I stroked her cheek. "I wouldn't worry about that if I were you."
We wandered aimlessly, exploring the wonderful little town. Carley admired the old buildings and complained bitterly about the spray-painted graffiti covering every available wall. I hired a gondola and paid the gondolier an extra 40 Euro not to sing for us. The afternoon went quickly.
I called Lora's cell phone and found out she was on a vaporetto not far away. We met her at the San Stae vaporetto stop and walked to a restaurant across the Grand Canal from the train station. We consumed 200 Euro worth of wine, seafood and pasta, then strolled around, stopping in shops and sipping various wines in the outdoor cafes. I bought two cases of a local red wine and arranged to have them shipped home.
We got back to the room about 10:30. We were all pretty tired. We got undressed, took our showers and hit the sack.
Carley and Lora left first thing the next morning for Murano. They were excited about their little adventure and I got no more than some kisses and hurried groping.
I bought breakfast and spent a couple of hours wandering around and taking pictures in the Cannaregio district north of the Grand Canal. Parts of that section of Venice are more residential than the tourist areas to the south. It's actually possible to find a grocery store there.
I worked my way east and south to the Rialto Bridge and started across, toward the hotel. In the middle of the north side of the bridge, I spotted a familiar face.
"Marja, hello."
She turned and her smile was just as I remembered it.
"Jack! What are you doing in Venice?"
"I'm here with Carley and my sister, Lora. They've never been here before." I shook my head. "They insisted on seeing Murano. I've seen it too many times. I think the glass is ugly and the factories are boring. I'm on my own for the day. Where's Juliette?"
"She went off with two local girls. I think she's trying to teach me a lesson." Marja smiled sadly. "She was very upset with me for giving you permission to put your penis inside me. When I spit your seed into the glass and showed it to her she thought I was insulting her. Well, I was taunting her. I admit that. I didn't mean to insult her, though."
"I'm sorry, Marja. I'm afraid I made it even worse. I was looking at her when I came. She saw the expression on my face. I was taunting her, too. I'm sorry if I caused more trouble for you."
"It's not your fault. It was my decision. Juliette will come back tonight, I think."
Marja touched my hand. "And if she doesn't, I won't be alone. I have no trouble attracting new friends. You may have noticed." She laughed. "I find my appearance to be an advantage in that regard."
"Well, Marja, I'm sure I'm not the first person to tell you this, but you are the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. Your face and your body are almost beyond belief."
I gestured at the people around us. "Every man and woman in sight is jealous of me right now. They're wondering how I know you and whether I've had sex with you."
"And you have," she said with another smile. "You certainly have!"
"Marja, may I buy you lunch? I'm getting hungry and there's a nice restaurant right down the street."
"Why, yes," she said. "I'd like that."
We walked a couple of blocks south-west. The restaurant had outside tables and we were seated. We each ordered a glass of wine, made our choices from the menu and ordered our entrees.
"Jack, I haven't forgotten my promise to you. I told you that if we met again, I would allow you to spill inside me. How do you say, 'cum'? I didn't think we would ever see one other again, but now we have. I always keep my promises. I will keep this one."
"Marja, thank you, but in the club you were very positive about not allowing a man to cum in your pussy. I don't want you to do anything you'd find distasteful. I can't tell you how much I'd love to have sex with you again, but I won't hold you to your promise. As you said, you didn't expect to see me again. Your promise was intended as a politeness and that's the way I took it. I don't want to take advantage of your kind nature."
"You're right, of course. I was being polite. But you should know that I meant what I said. You behaved as a gentleman should. Your offer today to, what's the phrase, 'let me off the hook,' proves that you are a good person. Unless you tell me you don't want me, I will keep my promise."