Si

She was beautiful. He knew that. Lost a little, perhaps. Wide-eyed, but easy to smile and easier to laugh. She was dark-haired, olive-skinned, and alone.

After the third try, he managed to go up to her. "Hi, I'm Paul," he said.

She smiled up at him, "Non parlo inglese." She said apologetically and laughed.

"I - Non parlo - Spanish?" he shrugged - unsure.

"Italiano." She giggled and smiled up at him again. He sat down.

"I took Latin in high school - can't be too different."

"Latin - et tu, Brute?"

His turn to laugh. "Yes."

"Yes?"

He pondered a moment. "Si?" That was in Spanish.

"Si!" She nodded in approval.

A pause. She seemed grateful to have anyone to talk to even if it were this.

"Sono Domenica,"

He shrugged, unsure. She scrunched up her nose to try again.

Pointing at herself, she said, "Sono Domenica, anche se, per voi forse sono Luciana."

"Domenica?" he said, pointing to her.

She giggled and cocked her head to one side.

"Luciana."

"Luciana." A pause, she nodded enthusiastically. "Paul," he pointed at his chest.

"Paul."

He was not sure how hours had passed. It was like a game of Charades, except you could never really tell if the other had it - and occasionally they would burst out laughing as he or she would use a word in a totally different way than intended.

"No, no, voglio dire un albero, con il legno!"

"Wind?" he made a whooshing sound, moving his hands to one side.

"Si? - fruscio delle foglie sono così," she mimicked his hand movement but on both sides of her head. "come questo," wrists together - hands out.

"a clam?" - he put his head sideways, hands opening and closing as he peered towards her. She burst out laughing.

As the sky softened into twilight, they found themselves lingering in the park, seated on a bench beneath a canopy of leaves that whispered in the evening breeze.

Domenica leaned in, her hands dancing in the air as she spoke. "La bellezza delle stelle," she said, pointing upwards, "mi fa pensare alle piccole cose che sono veramente grandi."

Paul looked up, following her gaze to the stars beginning to twinkle like distant lighthouses. "Something about the stars, I bet," he echoed in English, not understanding her words, but feeling them. "They make me feel like I'm so small."

She nodded, her smile as bright as the celestial bodies above them. "Sì, esatto!"

They continued this way, sharing fragments of their worlds, piecing together meaning from expressions, gestures, and tones. Paul described his favorite book, his hands outlining the shape of it in the air, pretending to flip through pages. "It's about adventure, and finding yourself," he said.

Domenica caught the word 'avventura,' her face lighting up. "Amo le storie di avventura! La vita è la più grande avventura, no?" she responded, her hands mimicking the journey of a winding path.

The night grew deeper and the air cooler, but the warmth between them was a gentle fire. He learned her laughter and the way her eyes crinkled with joy; she learned the thoughtful tilt of his head and the genuine interest that shone in his gaze.

Finally, as the first signs of morning began to edge the horizon, Paul stood up, offering his hand. "Walk you home?" he asked, the intention clear even without understanding.

Domenica placed her hand in his, her voice soft and melodic. "Mi piacerebbe molto, Paul."

They found themselves by the river, the water reflecting the last golden rays of the day. Domenica's eyes were alight with emotion, her gaze fixed on Paul. She took a small step closer, her voice a tender whisper, "Nel mio cuore, c'è una tempesta che solo tu puoi calmare."

Paul didn't need to understand Italian to see the storm in her eyes, to feel the pull of her soul. He took her hands in his, the connection electric. "Yes," he said, the words unnecessary but earnest.

Lucina's breath was warm on his face as she spoke again, her words caressing him even as they were shrouded in mystery, "Quando ti guardo, ogni battito del mio cuore dice il tuo nome."

With the gentlest of movements, Paul brushed a stray lock of hair from Lucina's face, tucking it behind her ear. "Tell me," he urged softly, wanting to drown in the sound of her voice, even if the meaning was just out of reach.

She smiled, her heart in her eyes, "Amore e desiderio... per te, Paul. Sento tutto con una forza che mi travolge."

"Can I have you? Take you? Right here, right now?"

"Si," she said, eyes glittering, and he didn't know if she understood but what was there to lose?

Paul leaned in, his lips meeting hers in a kiss that transcended language and time. It was soft at first, a question asked and answered, a delicate exploration of a new world unfolding between them. Then, as if the dam had broken, the kiss deepened, driven by the pent-up storm of emotions and the undeniable desire that had been building.

His hands went up under her shirt, sliding sweetly across her back and then higher, brushing the side of a breast, eliciting a little moan that him hard in the heartbeat of it. There was no one in the park. Cars continued to pass beyond, boats went down the river, but it was just them here. He grew bolder, hands caressing her breasts, as she moaned again. "Si," she whimpered, her hand caressing his face, tracing the line between hair and skin.

Their lips came together again, and now his hands were along the curve of her butt. She pushed herself against him a little, the smallest wriggle, the material of her skirt moving against his hands. He cupped her and pulled her into him, his hard against her soft

"Si," she breathed, her breasts crushed against his chest, a hand slid under his shirt and across his belly, soft fingers playing lightly against his skin. "Si!"

He slipped a hand under her skirt, sliding along the edge of her knee, up along her thighs, and up, up, to the warmth of her. She ground against him, hips against his hips, pressing his hand between them.

"Voglio essere tua" She murmured between kisses, her hips moving out to let her hand trace down his belly to the outside of his pants, her eyes twinkling, as she inexpertly rubbed up and down the length of him.

They went down together, awkwardly in a pile of buckles and buttons and zippers. Then she had her mouth on him, and the heat of her lips wrapped around him was enough to pull a strangled moan from him. Her hand crept between his legs, cupping him as he traced the lines of her hair, pulling it aside to see. His cock looked big against her face, or she looked small - he settled on the former. She looked up at him then, eyes meeting his, smile untried on her lips, and he memorized that moment, tucked it away for the next time he needed it.

"Entra dentro di me" she murmured, slipping her lips off him. Then - she was laying back, skirt rising, inviting. He smelled the heady scent of her and moved his face between her thighs, kissing up and down the softness of them before burying his nose in the soft folds of her, struggling to breathe in the heady, sticky, scent of her want.

"Vieni dentro di me... " she pleaded, moaning pulling him up her body - grasping at his cock, and with a greediness that delighted him - pulling him into her.

They paused there, then, just feeling the wetness, the hardness, the culmination of desire. The rightness. "You're so warm," he breathed. "You feel so good."

"Per favore, non venirmi dentro: non uso anticoncezionali" - she moaned, rocking her hips - and then "Pauul"

"Luciana" - he murmured, their hips began to find a rhythm. His lips found hers. She pushed her breasts up to rub against his chest. Little whimpers slipping out of her as she wrapped her legs around him.

Together they rose - pounding becoming an unselfconscious drum beat that echoed across the park.

"You must be on birth control - a pretty girl like you - can I cum inside you?"

"Si!" she whimpered. "Si! Si!"

His hands wrapped up in her hair as he released inside of her, "Oh my god!" He laughed - as his body twitched. "Oh my god."

She nuzzled him, kissing at his ear as he collapsed ontop of her, feeling the sensation of him growing softer inside of her.

He glanced around. Still no one in the park. That was good. They disintangled. Sweaty, hot, both looking like they'd been doing just what they had. She slipped her skirt back on, he struggled back into his pants.

Looking around again to see that they were still alone - he looked back to see that there was a stillness to her.

"Are you okay?" He asked.

Looking at him, her eyes shimmered, not just with the reflection of the city lights but with unshed tears. "Questa sera resterà nel mio cuore per sempre," she began, her voice steady but tinged with a sadness Paul felt more than heard. "Ma devo dirti addio, Paul. La nostra strada insieme finisce qui."

Paul's expression turned to one of confusion, his brow furrowing as he tried to decipher her tone, the finality in her words, even though he couldn't understand them.

Domenica reached up, her hand caressing his cheek in a fleeting touch. "La vita a volte è fatta di momenti, come stelle cadenti. Splendidi, ma destinati a scomparire."

He took her hand, a silent plea for an explanation, but she only offered a bittersweet smile, stepping away, her every move a silent goodbye. "Ti porterò sempre con me, nel profondo del mio cuore. Addio, mio dolce Paul."

With those last words, Domenica turned, cum slipping down her thigh, each step away from him measured and heavy. Paul stood there, watching the sway of her retreating figure, a mix of emotions churning within him. He wanted to follow, to ask her to stay, but something in her posture told him this was a farewell that had to be honored.

And then she was gone.