Born Again

On our penultimate night, I learned why she'd latched onto me too. "I found my ex-husband in bed with my best friend," she whispered, her fingers running up and down my chest as we calmed down after making love. I met her eyes to see her blinking rapidly, and I could sense the wound was still raw. "Our divorce was confirmed two months ago. I know they're getting married next month."

Hugging her tightly, I knew anything I said wouldn't really help. All I could say was, "I'm sorry."

"As much as I've helped you, Mark, you've made me feel wonderful. I've done nothing but blame myself since the day I walked in on them, wondering if I'd done something wrong. He had so many cruel things to say. At least my ex-best friend was smart enough to stay quiet."

"What was her reason?"

"None. I haven't spoken to her since that day. I was just left wondering what caused him to cheat. I was a devoted wife. We made love nearly every night. I catered to his every whim. Yet it still wasn't enough."

"I've learned that some men are real arseholes."

That statement made her giggle at least. "There is a part of me that wishes you would stay with me, Mark, but I know you cannot. You belong at home with your family, and I know, if you were to stay, it would eventually cause problems for you." She cuddled me tighter. "And I can't go with you because I feel the same about my family. I would love to introduce you to my parents and family, but then there would be expectations."

"I feel born again, Juliette," I stated, "My ex-wife seemed to be intent on systematically destroying me. I still don't really know why except she thought she was owed something. These two weeks with you have restored my sense of self."

"I want to stay in touch with you, Mark. Will that be okay? Even after we've both found others, I would like to be your friend."

"I'd love that, Juliette."

It was with a heavy heart that I departed again. Juliette sobbed as I held her, and I had to blink away a couple of the tears that wanted to escape me. I hadn't fallen in love with Carly immediately. Maybe that's just memories impacted by what she'd done, but the depth of feeling I was already experiencing for Juliette terrified me, and I knew leaving would be best.

I spent a few days driving south back towards the Mediterranean before taking a couple of weeks heading east from Montpellier, through Avignon, Aix-en-Provence, Marseille, Toulon and then finally into Nice. I avoided any sort of romantic entanglement wherever I stopped, and as I was the sort of guy not particularly interested in one-night stands - even my time with Sally being a fun-filled four nights - I spent the time being a tourist, relaxing, and finding like-minded tourists or locals to have fun with. Avignon was interesting though the old Papal Palace was a bit of a disappointment, hoping to see ancient frescoes and artworks, but most of the walls were bare, and the rooms pretty much empty. Nice was the perfect place to relax and unwind. The price of a beer was eye-watering so not being on a budget was handy. Didn't like the beach though. I was used to sand, not pebbles and stones.

Handing my car into the rental company at the airport in Nice, I hopped onto a train heading into Italy, turning north towards Turin first. My mother had attended university there, where she'd met my father and eventually left with him, but the family mostly came from far further south around the city of Bari. Mum suggested I could head all that way, looking at a map and figuring I could head south down the west coast of Italy towards Naples, cross over to the east and visit Bari, before I headed north up the eastern coast.

Turin was lovely, as was Milan, but I wanted to be back by the sea, leaving Milan behind after only a couple of days, hopping on a train heading towards Genoa. Figuring I was going to be spending a lot of time in Italy, I'd done my research and slowly made my way down the coast, eventually arriving in the wonderful Cinque Terre, spending a few days walking between each village. Utterly picturesque though I was just one of what felt like thousands of tourists doing the same thing.

Continuing south, I ended up in Pisa, which had nothing going for it except the tower and the surrounding parkland, so headed east to Florence after only one night there. Florence was gorgeous and I figured I'd settle down for a few nights as I'd been on the go since leaving Milan.

The main square of Florence, otherwise known as Firenze in the local lingo, was situated by the famous Duomo. What I'd realised since entering Italy is that speaking the language opened plenty of doors. Sure, I spoke with an Australian accent, but once a local had sat down and heard my story, I was quicky invited to lunch or dinner to meet friends and family, and to my amusement, was told about sisters and cousins who were single. When I told them I would be heading back to Australia at the end of my trip, there were shrugs and suggestions that whoever she was would have family there too.

"Where are you now?" Juliette asked one evening as I'd called her.

"Florence."

"Oh, I've always wanted to go there. Is it as pretty as I imagined?"

"Some of the buildings are simply breath-taking. We certainly have little like it back in Sydney, that's for sure."

"That's another place I'd like to see one day, Mark."

"Well, if you were to ever visit, I'd be happy to play tour guide."

"Do you miss me?"

"Every day."

"I miss you too. My friends knew I was feeling rather down for a couple of weeks after you left. They've tried matching me up with a couple of men, but I'm just not interested."

"I am sorry, Juliette. There's still that part of me that didn't want to leave."

"I want to ask if..." She trailed off and I knew what she wanted to ask.

"You want to know if I'd ever be around that area again?"

"Yes," she whispered, "I know I shouldn't, but I really want to see you again, Mark."

"I can't make any promises."

"Have you been with anyone since you left me?"

"No. I haven't really been in the mood either."

"I wouldn't be offended if you were. We have made no promises to each other. If I were to meet someone and I felt it going somewhere, I'd tell you immediately."

"I'd do the same for you if I were to tell you I wouldn't be returning."

"Just don't forget me, Mark."

"That's not going to happen."

Whenever I thought of Juliette, I found myself smiling, and people like it when you are smiling. Particularly pretty ladies who would greet you with a smile in return. And Italy is full of very attractive women. I hadn't been in the mood for a while, but whenever I spoke to Juliette, I found myself feeling better and, more importantly, aroused. The next time I spoke to her, I told her how I was feeling. Thankfully, it made her giggle, and she assured me that she would not be hurt if I had a little fun.

"Just don't fall in love with her," she told me.

After Florence, I headed down south towards Siena before returning to the coast, taking in the small towns and villages. Speaking Italian proved I didn't face any problems when entering the sort of place where the locals didn't speak any English. Hearing my accent again led to questions, and more than one invite to join an entire street for dinner.

Rome was fantastic. Yes, it was ancient, a little bit dirty and chaotic, and the traffic was simply insane, but you can't take in over two thousand years of history and not be left at least a bit impressed. I splurged on a nice hotel barely a stone's throw from the Vatican. Juliette wanted to hear all about it again, and when I offered her the chance to join me, I nearly made her cry.

I was at Fiumicino Airport when her flight arrived, watching her face light up when her eyes met mine as she walked through the arrival gate. She dumped her luggage and wrapped her limbs around my body as she barely kept her emotions in check.

"I have a whole month off. My boss knows all about what happened to me, and nearly all the girls know about you. They're all desperate to meet you now."

"I'm thinking we do a couple of romantic things then," I suggested, taking her luggage and walking out, "We stay here a few more nights. After that, we go north towards Verona and Venice, hire a car for the Dalmatian coast toward Dubrovnik, then a week or two in the Greek Islands. After that..."

"After that, you're coming back to Orleans with me, Mark."

Juliette didn't want to see any of Rome that night. The only place she wanted to see was the hotel room I was staying in. As soon as I'd dumped her luggage, she took off her blouse and skirt, smiling at me as my eyes no doubt lit up at the lingerie she was wearing. Given I was six-two and she was a whole foot shorter, and she was a petite thing with B-cup breasts and an otherwise slim figure, I couldn't wait to get her naked and on the bed.

She had never been shy in wanting to please me, falling to her knees as she smiled up at me. I groaned as her lips wrapped around my shaft, her ponytail flinging about as she was rather enthusiastic, not that she hadn't been every single time we were together. Once she'd got me off, and she proved how much she liked me by swallowing, I picked her up and gently threw her back on the bed, tore off her underwear though made sure I didn't rip anything, before I buried my face between her legs. I loved the tuft of dark hair above her pussy, and she was glistening with excitement as I got to work.

And when she was excited, she stuck exclusively to French. Frankly, there is nothing hotter than being with a French woman who you're pleasing hearing her cry out in her mother tongue. And even though I didn't particularly understand, I knew she was being very complimentary in my direction.

After enjoying more than a few orgasms, as she had learned early on that I loved going down on a woman, I think we both savoured the moment when I slid inside her again. The kiss we shared once I was buried was so passionate, I think that was a sealing of our feelings for each other. We made love all night, and I loved watching my petite lover bouncing up and down on my cock, again crying out in her mother tongue.

"Mon Dieu! Je ne suis pas sûr de pouvoir te supporter tous les soirs ma vie."

"Was that a compliment, sweetheart?"

"Definitely a compliment, mon cherie."

We did head south to Naples, but apart from the ruins of Pompeii nearby, we didn't particularly like it, so I hired a car and headed for the spectacular Amalfi Coast. After a few nights there, the main road took us across the middle of Italy to Bari. I had the address of where my grandmother's sister lived. Knocking at the door, a slightly younger version of my Nonna answered the door. She took one look at me and burst into tears. "Marco!" she cried, immediately hugging me before she turned, shouting in Italian, "Tommaso, he's here! Send a message to the family. Let them know the Australian is here!"

If you're wondering, I was christened Marco Alexander Fontana at birth. Mum chose my name and gave it Italian flair, though I anglicised it to 'Mark' for obvious reasons. My father is named Alexander, and I was told later that Mum would have liked an Italian flair to that, perhaps Alessandro. Despite the fact my surname could also be considered Italian, my father wasn't exactly aware of our heritage past a couple of generations.

Maybe he also had some Italian in him too.

Dragged inside by my Nonna's sister, the house was quickly filled with the extended family, meeting distant cousins, aunts and uncles. And it was during this time that I introduced Juliette. When asked who she was the first time, she took my hand in hers and smiled. "I'm his girlfriend," she stated in English. That made me glance at her and smile. "Am I wrong, Marco?"

"Guess that makes me your boyfriend then."

Within a day of arriving in Bari and meeting my family, I was woken early in the morning by my telephone ringing. Glancing at my screen, my mother's name and her picture appeared. Juliette woke up as I chuckled. Hitting the green button, I placed the phone at my ear as Juliette snuggled into me, her hand immediately on my chest.

"Hello, Mum," I said in Italian.

"Marco. What is this that I hear about you and a girlfriend?"

Ah, we would be conversing in Italian. That meant I was in trouble. Mum was fluent in both languages, but when she was mad, it was in Italian. And I could just imagine the hand gestures. That was generally what diffused most arguments between my parents as my father would just laugh at her gestures, she'd eventually lose steam, and they'd end up sharing a passionate kiss.

"Who told you?"

"Never mind who told me. Why am I always the last to know?"

I couldn't stop the smile as I asked, "And how were you last, Mum?"

"Because I only know you have a girlfriend because my sister heard from her aunt that you're in Bari with a woman you're now calling your girlfriend."

"It's all happened rather quickly, Mum. I haven't really had the chance to call home. Italian hospitality and all."

She paused and I just knew my father was in her ear, telling her to calm down. "So she's the French girl you met?"

"Yes, Mum."

"Oh, I was hoping you might find a lovely Italian girl to bring home."

I tightened my arm around Juliette. "Sorry to disappoint but I'm thinking I'll stick with my French girl for the time being."

Juliette definitely understood part of that sentence as she left a quick but one hell of a steamy kiss on my lips. "I know you're going to keep travelling, but when do you think we could talk to her?"

"Tell you what, Mum. We'll probably be in Croatia soon enough and I plan on us doing nothing but sit on the beach to enjoy the sun, sea and sand. I'll make sure we do a Zoom or Skype call so you can at least chat with her, if you'd like."

"Okay... She is very pretty."

"I know, Mum. Is everything okay there?"

"No problems here. Your father and sisters all say hello, and your sisters definitely miss their big brother. Um... Want to know about Charlie and Jessica?"

"Sure, what are they up to?"

"Well, we did see them the other week. Sad to say that your letter to Charlie had little effect. But Jessica... She's so young but already full of regret. It'll probably get worse as she's older. She pulled me into the bathroom and asked if you could allow her access to one of your social media platforms."

"I'll think about it, Mum."

"I understand it still hurts, Marco. Just remember that she'll always be your little girl. Carly might have paperwork saying otherwise, but once she's eighteen..."

"You think?"

"I don't know. Carly has kept up her promise that we can remain in contact. She generally stays out of the way when we see them though she's pleasant enough. Charlie isn't particularly interested but Jessica is closer to us now."

"Keep me in the loop, Mum."

"I will. I'm going to hang up and talk to the other family there. No matter what, it does look like you're having a splendid time on your travels. Your sisters are both very jealous."

After ringing off, Juliette moved to straddle my lap, gazing up and down her naked body before she leaned down to kiss me. "I could sort of follow along with some of the conversation. I'm guessing your mother is wondering who I am."

"Yeah, word travels quickly from Italy to Australia nowadays."

"I didn't mean to put you on the spot about... You know, girlfriend and all."

"Are you saying you don't want to be my girlfriend?" She immediately blushed, chuckling as she was a little shy. "Juliette, I'm willing to try and make this work if you want. The only problem I face is that I'm not sure I could remain permanently in France."

"So how would I get into Australia with you?"

"Um... Considering I'm an Australian citizen, the best option would probably be, um, a... er..."

Her eyes widened as she probably understood why I stumbled. "Oh... I'd have to be your wife?"

"Yeah, and one of my friends married a foreign woman. It took him a couple of years to get it all sorted. A temporary visa was easy enough but having her there permanently took quite a few hoops. Basically, it's to stop people marrying just to get one of the spouses into the country."

Resting on my chest, I caressed her smooth back as she whispered, "Bit scary to already be talking about such matters."

"I can understand the question. thing is that I'm also on an Italian passport so I can remain in France indefinitely with you."

"You'd do that?" she asked quietly.

"I'd still like to keep travelling for a little longer. Any chance you could extend your holiday?"

"I could call my boss in an hour and tell her I won't be back anytime soon. Serving jobs are a dime a dozen. If I explain what's going on, she'll be happy for me and assure me a job would be waiting for me upon my return."

We stayed in Bari for nearly a week as I enjoyed being around family, even if it was distant, and Juliette was having a grand old time with me. With a somewhat heavy heart, we eventually left, following the coast, stopping only for short stops in Pescara and Ancona before taking time to join fellow revellers in Rimini. I enjoyed seeing Juliette in her French cut bikini while soaking in some sun, and being European, there was no embarrassment when taking off her bikini top.

That explained the lack of tanlines around her breasts, at least. She also loved teasing me relentlessly, which worked out great for us both as I'd generally have her screaming that night back in our hotel room. We were growing closer each and every day, and the sex... I was pleased that our libido's were in sync from nearly the first time we were intimate.

Bologna was another interesting city we spent another couple of days exploring before we just had to visit Verona, considering Juliette's name and all. Even the French learn about Shakespeare. And finally, we arrived in Venice. Yes, it was overcrowded. Yes, everything was overpriced. Yes, the place was a ghost town once the tourists left every day. But even with all that, there was still something magical about the place.

Gondola rides are an absolute fucking rip-off though. I paid for more than one as Juliette thought it would be romantic, but still...

Getting to Croatia proved interesting. I was thinking we'd just have to drive north but a little research found ferries that crossed the Adriatic. Not to exactly where I wanted, preferably Zadar or Split, hearing they were great places to start a Dalmatian coast exploration, but a ferry to go to Pula almost daily, and from there it would be either a bus or a hire car.

"Hire car," Juliette stated as we disembarked in Croatia, "You want to spend hours on a bus in this warmth?"

If I was by myself, I'd probably have just travelled by bus, but we found plenty of hire car places near the ferry terminal, and within a couple of hours, we were heading towards Rijeka and eventually the highway leading south. I thought parts of Europe that I'd already seen were picturesque. Nothing could match the Croatian coastline at the end of summer, heading into autumn. Clear blue skies. Absolutely gorgeous sea. Golden sand. Everyone was incredibly friendly. The women were gorgeous. It was inexpensive compared to anywhere else I'd been.

Though we did stop in the major tourist spots, we ended up spending far more time staying in the smaller coastal towns. A surprise was the number of languages Croatians seemed to speak. In addition to the local lingo and English, many would speak French, Italian and German, with sprinklings of Spanish and Portuguese, and a sprinkling of other Balkan languages.