The sun dipped below the skyline of Manhattan as my taxi pulled up to the terminal at JFK. I reflected on the symbolism but felt nervous enough not to dwell on it for long. I was to meet you for the first time, my correspondent of long standing. We had been exchanging electronic letters for eighteen months. We had finally talked on the phone and planned this trip without ever meeting. Were we complete fools, or was this the adventure of our lives? I had to travel to Europe for a wine auction in Italy, and your friends had encouraged you to take a vacation from your family responsibilities. No one else knew of the existence of the electronic lovers, because all had been planned with the utmost discretion. I only hoped I would be able to check in before you arrived, we had arranged to sit together but I did not want to be in line with you. I was nervous of others in the terminal knowing one of us and asking questions.
The check in went smoothly, I had arrived so early there was almost no one else in line. While I scanned the terminal I saw you alight from a taxi and struggle with your luggage. I wanted to run and help, but I was afraid of attracting attention. We had agreed to meet innocently on the plane, as if by chance. Your beauty took my breath away, I recognized you from the photos you had sent, but you were so much more radiant. I had to control my urge to run to you and embrace you in welcome. I turned my back and walked to the newsstand so you would not see me.
I had to abide by the rules, but my first sight stunned me. Next to the newsstand was a shop selling scarves, I rushed in and bought you one I felt complimented your coloring. I had to give you a gift even if it wasn't in the plan. The lush silk and bright colors would frame the exquisite face I had just perceived for the first time. The light salmon colored summer dress you were wearing seemed too severe for your beauty. You were so elegant. The dress was expertly tailored and discretely highlighted your shapely legs. It outlined the curves of your hips and breasts, yet I felt it needed a touch of color. I was excited by my purchase and wanted to run and present it to you. Again I knew I must resist and play by the rules.
Now, suddenly, I was nervous about my appearance. I had taken great care in preparing for this trip, packing only my finest suits, shirts, and even the jeans and polo shirts that I felt showed off my tall lean body. I had visited, only the day before, my favorite coiffeur to have my white mane styled to look relaxed but perfectly groomed. I still had a light tan from summer even though it was mid September, and I knew that tan set off my deep blue eyes. But now I worried that since I was nervous I might not have the odor you would find appealing.
I found the men's room and checked my image in the mirrors. All seemed well, but I splashed a bit more Cacharel on my chest and neck. As I buttoned my shirt I laughed at myself, I was acting like a teenager on his first date. I felt as if I were just that. I was rediscovering my emotions and excitement. I became worried again, but this time simply that you were not feeling the same agitation. I decided to allow almost everyone to enter the plane before I presented myself at the gate. That way we would not have to look at each other in the lounge and feign ignorance. I found a quiet corner and immersed myself in business papers while listening for boarding instructions. When the flight was called I returned to the men's room, brushed my teeth and generally checked everything. Yes, I was really nervous. Finally I had to go.
I boarded the jet trying to look confident and relaxed despite the storm raging inside. As I walked to my seat I saw you were already installed for the long flight. You seemed calm, the opposite of my turmoil, and relaxed. I nodded a polite hello as if we were complete strangers, placed my briefcase and jacket in the overhead compartment, put the package with the scarf in the seat back, and sat. I looked around and saw no one paying attention, the plane was far from full. I turned to you, gently took your hand, and said, "I am so thrilled to see you and be with you, I can barely speak. I am so nervous I don't know what to say."
Your grip on my hand became so intense I knew you were feeling the same nervous tension. You answered, "I feel it also, let's just let time help us adjust. It feels so good to touch my phantom writer but we better wait a bit. At least until we are flying." I took a deep breath, sat back, and almost sobbed in relief. My mind was spinning, thinking of the things we had written over the months. The intensity of the relationship had been building and now we were together on a jet to Europe.
The big jet accelerated on the runway pressing us to the back of our seats. You took my hand and gripped it hard. You were not at ease flying and sought comfort in me. I trilled to your touch and gently stroked your cheek as we climbed into the evening sky. As the noise reduced and the plane leveled off you let your head fall onto my shoulder. We continued holding hands but with less pressure. I presented you the scarf apologizing for the infringement of the rules but explaining my desire to place some color at your neck. You smiled and tied it in place. "Thank you my love, it is perfect." You said, giving me a delicate kiss on my cheek. The tension seemed to lift and real affection took over. The flight was the beginning of ten days together and we were already feeling comfortable. We were to fly to Milan then on to Venice from where we would drive to Verona for the auction. I collect wines and hoped to find some good Italian reds not available in the states.
The flight was uneventful and the brief layover in the new Milan airport gave us a chance to taste our first Italian cappuccino. Upon arrival at the Venice airport we were informed that our luggage had been sent elsewhere and that we would certainly receive our bags in a day or so. I laughed, thinking of all my careful packing and the time spent selecting my wardrobe. "Why don't we just go visit Venice and find out later where our luggage has gone?" I asked. You answered that you loved Venice and would be delighted to visit the city again. I instructed the baggage desk that I would call them in the evening to tell them where we were staying. We ordered a water taxi and asked to be taken to the Rialto.
Your look of gaiety, as your hair was blown back, crossing the lagoon told me told me how much you adored this city. My mind began changing plans as we approached the sinewy canals. If you loved Venice so much, why should we go elsewhere?
The Rialto is filled with people so I drag you onto a smaller canal to walk quietly and absorb the atmosphere. Your summer dress kisses your naked legs, playing with the breeze and threatening to show all. The straw hat we bought, though frivolous, gives you an air of another time. You walk freely owning the city of water and Moorish buildings. The sounds of the water slapping the walls create the soft music of seduction. The heat sends me your jasmine and sage perfume inflaming my desire. We surrender ourselves to the magic of the city and wander aimlessly through the maze of canals. Deeper into it's heart we stray. Letting the heat arouse our passion with the romantic walls and water overtaking our senses. We fall into a small square with a red church at one end and three little cafés opposite. The brightly colored umbrellas offer shade and more. I command you to sit and order wine, bread, and olives.
Your dark hair, framing your pale face, your bare arms, and deep décolleté, your lovely naked legs, sinuous from your light flowing dress all incite my desire for you. You seem so at ease and relaxed in this foreign place. I notice you inhaling the odors and grasping every visual treat. You are as sensual as I and revel in the beauty of this place. We drink the wine watching the locals speak with their hands in animated conversations. I suddenly realize I want you. Now! I lean forward, kiss your neck and whisper in your ear that I will ravish you in the very near future.
I leave you alone as I enter the café to speak with the patron and pay our bill. You slowly sip your wine and catalogue the charms of this little square and it's people. I return having received all the information I requested. I lead you purposefully down another narrow canal. You notice a change in my demeanor yet the joy of the moment eliminates any apprehension. You are nonetheless surprised by my knowing turns and bridge crossings. You sense I know where we are heading.
We enter a lovely "palazzo" and I converse with an older woman. She leads us to a large room overlooking a garden with a marble balcony and pillars. "This is where I will ravish you, my dear." I laugh. "You are my prisoner, you will do as I command."
You survey the room to find deep velvet cloth, dark woods, gold frames around old paintings, and an atmosphere of exotic mystery. The room seduces you yet you are at a loss to fathom my desires. Your questioning lasts briefly. I open the thick trunk at the foot of the bed and remove four long gold ropes. I approach you while commanding you to remove your dress. "I will tie you to the marble pillar on the balcony. I will gag you for I want no noise, but I will allow you to look at this beautiful place. I will love you, and make you mine. Do you agree?" You nod your approval as I tie my silk scarf across your mouth.
Your mind spins with desire and fear. Your want of pleasure almost overcomes the dread of being tied naked in full view of anyone deciding to enter the garden. To be seen writhing in passion, shamelessly out of control, while your master makes fervent love to your bound body.
You remove the straw hat, which I take from your hand. You reach for the hem of your dress. The trembling hands seem to belong to another. They lift the garment over your head without hesitation, yet your heart has not accepted the command. The soft cloth flutters to the rich Persian rug leaving you standing, gagged, clothed only in your underwear and shoes. I gently hold your shoulders and guide you onto the balcony. I place your hands on the cool marble of the pillar. "Do not move." I instruct you as I slide your panties down your hips. You become aware of the beauty of the garden as I begin to unfasten your bra. The small fountain in the center splashes delicate sounds from the urn a cherub holds. The tall slim yew stands like a sentinel in the corner reaching far into the blue sky. The flowers and shrubs have been manicured to create a symmetry and peaceful ambience for which you are grateful. The elegance and softness of the view bring you a serenity that surprises you.
You feel the gold rope around your wrists as they are secured to the pillar. The shock comes from the rope wrapped around your waist as it pulls your belly against the cold marble. Somehow you did not expect to be so completely immobile yet you realize the pillar will hide your nakedness if someone does enter the garden. My lips begin to kiss the nape of your neck as my fingers touch your hips like feathers caressing your skin. From a neighboring villa you hear the strands of a Vivaldi concerto. You try to find a meaning for the scene and the music but you are loosing your control to the passion you desire. The yew becomes an enormous phallus and the music imparts a rhythm to your yearning hips.
You sense that I am on my knees as I kiss your thighs and let my fingers explore their inner surface. The heat rises in your loins and your nipples become stiff against the cool stone that holds you. As your desire builds you realize that I am in no hurry and seem intent on tantalizing and frustrating those desires by not allowing you the release so needed. The whole city conspires to inflame your craving. Everywhere you look you see sensuality and suggestions of erotic delights.
You move your hips in hopes of making contact with my hands but I am too quick. "If you want release, my love, you must beg me." I tell you as I caress your sides touching the softness of your breasts but never making contact with the sensitive nubs. You murmur your request but I tell you that anyone in the garden must be able to hear your request. I press my manhood against your bottom to show you that I am ready but denying you the pleasure you seek until you obey. My hands continue to dance everywhere but where you need them. You look into the garden to see if anyone is present, only the cherub returns your gaze. He seems to be smiling at you! "Oh, please make love to me." You say softly. I slide my fingers to your heat and instruct you to speak louder and tell me what you want. The thrill of being touched pushes away all your inhibitions and you ask loudly "Fuck me, dear, fuck me from behind….make me come please!"
I slide my hardness deep into your heat looking at the tranquil garden and knowing I will stay with you for at least three orgasms. You reach your first peak quickly and moan your joy to the sky. "More, my love, I will give you more." I tell you. "Enjoy the beauty as we take our pleasure in this magic city." We thrust together in love and passion until we are both satiated and can stand no more. I untie you and carry you to the big bed.
"Rest, my love, for we will take the apéritif at the Piazza San Marco in two hours. We will spend this night here, and perhaps more, we can call the others and cancel our previous plans. Rest and prepare for love in Venice. We have beauty to see and many places to make love. Remember you are now mine and I will lead you."