The Fundamentals of Friendship Pt. 01

"Don't worry, bella. You're a beautiful woman, but I won't attack you." He leaned in and gave me the expected kiss on the cheek. "Not unless you want me to." He added into my ear.

The little hairs on my arm rose with a shiver I couldn't contain. About five minutes ago I didn't even think Rocco realized I was a woman, who's to say offer to attack me if I wanted him to. And I might want him to if he didn't stop throwing that sexy smile my direction.

Rocco put visible effort into not laughing when he saw the stupid shocked expression on my face. Before I could say anything though, he climbed on his bike.

"See you at eight?"

I just nodded, speechless.

"Bye, bella." And smiling, he rode off leaving me statuesquely standing there trying to remember if I had packed any sexy lingerie.

****

Rocco lived in one of those lovely, but tiny, Parisian apartments. As soon as I stepped inside the wonderful scent of tomato sauce, basil leaves and olive oil assaulted my nostrils. My mouth watered instantly.

"This place smells heavenly!"

The cook in me didn't know you're not suppose to stick your nose into people's pans the first time you visit their home. I couldn't help myself, though. I was already dipping my finger into the red sauce and tasting it.

"Oh, and it tastes like heaven, too!" I turned around to see Rocco standing behind me and almost shaking with laughter. "I'm being inconvenient again, aren't I?"

"No, Laura. Your impulsivity is very amusing. I like it very much."

"Yeah. Riley's always saying it'll get me into trouble one day."

"Riley?" He asked, frowning a little.

"My best friend." I explained dismissively.

Rocco only nodded leading me to a chair in a conveniently small table. That was when I noticed the candles.

"Would you like some wine, Laura?" He offered.

Candles and now wine?

"Absolutely! Let's give me an excuse to make you laugh other than me embarrassing myself."

Rocco poured me a generous glass of wine and went back to his kitchen to give our dinner its final touches. I thought the timing perfect to satisfy my curiosities about him.

"Rocco, how come you speak such good English?" In spite of his heavy Italian accent, his pronunciation was perfect.

"I travelled a lot in my teens. Worked in a restaurant in New York for three years."

I drank some of the wine, humming to myself in appreciation of both the wine and Rocco. If there's anything that can turn me on is a cultured man who can cook.

"But you were born in Italy." I continued with my inquiries.

Rocco moved about his kitchen with astonishing speed, stirring something here, another thing there. "My mother's Italian, my father was French. I was married to an Italian woman as well."

"Was married"?" I asked him with my complete inability to be subtle.

He turned to me and leaned on the kitchen sink, crossing his arms over his chest. I couldn't help but stare at the bulging muscles there.

"What do you think of the wine?" He pointed his chin to the full glass on my hand. I blushed hotly.

I gulped a good amount of the wine, trying to hide my shame behind the glass.

"It's wonderful. Is it Italian, too?" Rocco clearly didn't wish to talk about his wife. I bit my tongue inside my mouth, once again berating myself for being so damn curious.

Was it possible he was still married?

He offered me a little wry smile and returned to his pan. "No. We produce it here in France."

I almost choked on another sip of the delicious red wine. "We?"

"Yes. I own a winery."

"You own a fucking winery?"

"A wine company, actually." He said matter-of-factly.

"Ok, so back it up a little." Rocco returned to the table, placing cutlery and a white handkerchief in front of me. "You're half French, half Italian?"

"Yes." He confirmed. His broad mouth amused.

"You can obviously cook." I eyed the perfect pasta plate he'd just set in front of me. He pressed his lips into a line clearly trying not to laugh. "You've travelled a lot. You own a wine company! And on top of all that you look like this!" I gestured up and down his body.

That was when he lost his battle with his urge to laugh. I suddenly realized I was behaving like my sister. All raw honesty and no sense of when to keep my thoughts to myself. I blamed it on the wine.

"Yes, bella."

"So, basically. You're perfect, Rocco."

"I wouldn't say that, Laura." He said as he sat himself down on the only other chair the size of the table allowed to exist.

Dear Lord, why must he keep saying my name like that? Doesn't he know what an accent like that does to a woman panties?

"Something must be really wrong with you, then. Are you sure you're not a pervert, a murderer or something awful like that?"

Are you sure you're not still married? Was the question I didn't voice.

That made him laugh again and look at me in a way that had me blushing.

"No. I'm just a man having dinner with a beautiful woman."

At this point, after the idiot I was making of myself, I didn't see the benefit in pretending to behave normally. He already knew my tongue was way too loose.

"Yes, and you think I'm beautiful," I brought the wine to my lips again. "There's that too."

Rocco bit his smiling lips, then said "Oh, well. You are." only to have me squirm in my chair. The wetness pooled in my underwear was already uncomfortable, but not at all unpleasant.

"Took you long enough to ask me out, though. I mean, you didn't say a thing that entire first week..."

Wow. Subtle, Laura. Sophia would burst with pride if she could hear you right now.

"I was trying to find the best way to approach you." He forked some spaghetti, put it in his mouth and slurped it, making a funny sound. The scene of the Lady and the Tramp sharing the spaghetti kiss flashed in my mind. I wouldn't mind sharing my spaghetti with Rocco. Not at all. "I did offer myself to help you, didn't I?" He added.

"Yes."

"I wouldn't have done so had you not been so beautiful."

I knew I blushed again because the heat on my cheeks had nothing to do with the alcohol. With the pretext of folding my napkin over my thigh I cast my eyes down. "Well, if that's the case, I'm glad you found a way to approach me."

"Me, too." He said, licking his upper lip in a way that should be considered a crime, so sexy it was.

Thoughts of what he could do with that tongue fired my imagination. I felt a warm, delicious shiver run down my spine. Something told me Rocco knew exactly what kind of feelings he was stirring in me.

"Now, Laura." He sipped his wine, then went on. "It's my turn to know a little about you."

Rocco didn't know what he was asking for. But he soon found out. He asked me about my about job and I plunged into the story of my life. I told him about the bistro, about my sister Sophia, and about Riley, of course.

Rocco was surprised to hear my best friend, Riley, was a man. Needless to say, I edited my description of my relationship with Ry. That would be awkward to explain.

And, hey, Riley is my best friend. We're just friends, but we fuck. Yeah, we fuck, but we're friends. It's nothing complicated, though. Just sporadic sex. Might be worth to mention it happens with alarming frequency, too. What can I say, I like sex.

Bad idea.

"We've been best friends since we were 8, or 9 years old. Not sure. It's simpler to say I've known him my whole life." I hoped that explained things better.

"Sounds like he's really special." There was something about the way Rocco spoke. I thought I recognized his tone. I chose to ignore it, though.

"Well, he's my best friend." I couldn't help the rush of affection that washed over me whenever Ry popped into my mind.

"Hum."

Hum?

For the second time I ignored Rocco's reaction to me mentioning Riley and focused on the food. I wolfed the pasta he admitted to have made with his own two hands from scratch.

"Just some good eggs and the right kind of flour." He'd humbly said, when I remarked how wonderful the texture and taste were.

What is it about a man who can cook?

Plates clean, and glasses refilled too many times to count, Rocco pushed up from the table and walked over to his record player. The piano from 'Can't Help Lovin' Dat Man' filled the room. Rocco walked back towards me and offered me a tentative hand.

"Dance with me?"

I took his hand and stood on my feet, swaying a little. I only didn't fall because he pressed me tightly against his chest, knocking my breath away.

"Steady there, bella."

I took a deep breath that made me hyper aware of my breasts squashed against his chest. "I think I had way too much wine." I smiled up at him. "How cliché of me."

One of those sexy smiles tugged at the corner of Rocco's mouth as he began dancing. One step to the left, another to the right, taking me with him. I was a pretty good dancer, but his wine had thrown me off my balance. Luckily, Rocco could lead well. It was almost hypnotizing the way his green eyes were fixed on my brown ones.

"You're even more beautiful all flushed from the wine." He said, almost whispering.

I was feeling so giddy by then, I looked down at my feet biting my lip to hide the big, stupid grin that threatened to split my face in half.

We moved together to the sound of Billie Holiday's voice. My body couldn't be more firmly pressed against Rocco's. I could feel his warmth burrowing into my dress. The smell of his aftershave combined with the wine was making my mind foggier by the minute. I stopped dancing before I collapsed in his arms. He glanced down at me, puzzled.

"I think I need some air."

Suddenly, he was all concern for me. He rushed me to his balcony, opened the French doors, that were simply doors in Paris, and promptly brought me a glass of cool water.

"Are you feeling better?" He asked, pressing a warm, big hand to my damp forehead.

I put a hand on his chest to calm him down. "I am. I really am, Rocco. Thank you."

I allowed myself to stand on his balcony for a while, appreciating the Parisian lights and the cool air of the night blowing on my face. Remembering my earlier indiscretion, I deemed that a good opportunity to apologize.

"Rocco, I'm sorry about my uncontrollable curiosity earlier. About your wife, I mean. I had no right to be so intrusive."

A corner of his mouth lifted with an effort intent on hiding some emotion.

"That's life. In constant motion. That part of my life simply ended. Don't be sorry for it. If I were still married I wouldn't be able to be here enjoying this beautiful night in the company of a beautiful woman."

If he were still married. He wasn't married anymore. Thank god. He was probably just divorced. That made my indiscretion somehow better. The fact he'd called me beautiful again didn't pass me by either.

"When you put it that way." I leaned against the balcony railing and saw Rocco's eyes surveying my body from head to toe.

I'd worn the only black dress I had packed. It wasn't the longest dress in the world, its hem barely reached the middle of my thighs. I hadn't really packed thinking about romantic candlelit dinners with handsome men.

"What about you, Laura?" His eyes were not on my face when he spoke.

"What about me, Rocco?" My voice had automatically become softer and somewhat sexier.

Funny how your body language subtly changes, without you even acknowledging at first, when the sexual tension increases and something in the air around you shifts.

"Don't you have someone?" He asked.

"Of course not. I am here, aren't I?" Did he think himself that hot that I'd accept to go on a date with him even being someone else's girlfriend?

Rocco shook his head as though I had just said some blasphemy. "How can such a beautiful woman be alone?"

I didn't particularly like his choice of words there. Alone. That annoying word made me think of Riley somehow.

"I'm not alone. I simply haven't met anyone interesting enough to keep me."

At my cheeky answer he took a few steps towards me, stopping just a few inches from touching the full length of his body to mine.

"What would it take to keep you?"

Tentatively, I bit my bottom lip and let my eyes linger on his mouth. "Maybe more of this wine?"

Rocco's hands slipped around my waist and his forehead touched mine. "You're bellissima, Laura." With his lips less than an inch away from mine, it was impossible for our mouths not to brush each other's when he spoke. "Sei una bella donna."

Whatever the fuck he said, it sounded sexy enough that I closed the space between us and kissed him.

His mouth was warm and it tasted faintly of the wine we had both been drinking. A soft moan escaped my lips when he licked my bottom lip before his tongue invaded my mouth. Rocco's big hands slid down from my waist to my ass. He grabbed a handful of it, pushing the hardness inside his trousers against me.

My hands tangled themselves in his wavy hair as I kissed him hungrily, loving the way he touched me, as though he'd been wanting to do it for ages. All of a sudden he broke the kiss and just stared at me. His green eyes were dark with lust. I just stood perfectly still as his hands went under my dress and he hooked his thumbs on the waistband of my lacy panties. I nodded in consent when his eyes asked me for it. He pushed them down my legs, gradually sinking to his knees as the flimsy fabric slid down, all the while keeping his burning eyes on mine.

Rocco kissed my knee before putting my leg over his shoulder. I shuddered with anticipation as his lips brushed the soft skin of my inner thigh. We went upwards, stopping only to administer little sucks on my skin that I was sure would leave a mark.

"Ah!" I moaned something like a suppressed scream when I felt the warmth of Rocco's mouth suddenly closing on my clit.

He began gently, licking me as though he just wanted to know what I'd taste like. Rocco sucked, inhaling loudly on the center of my body, right there on his open balcony for anyone who happened to look up to see. Arching my back, I had to grab to steel railing of the balcony in order to keep myself from falling. With my other hand I grabbed a handful of his hair, trying to bring his face closer to my pulsing pussy.

All those combined feelings coursing through my body were wonderful. The fresh Parisian air gently ruffled my hair as Rocco devoured me with torturing slow speed. He delicately ran his tongue around that tiny nub of overly sensible nerves, driving me crazier by the second. I pulled his hair so roughly I heard him groan a satisfied sound that echoed through me as he continued sucking and flicking me with his tongue. When I tensed and he felt me wanting to shake and shatter, he moved down to tease my folds with unhurried generosity.

"Oh, god, Ry-" I bit my tongue and snapped my eyes open, my heartbeat suddenly wild. "Ri-Right there!" My body was used to another tongue, and my mouth was used to screaming another name. Upon realizing my mistake, I tried my best to fix it.

Looking down, I saw Rocco was still lost in me. He hadn't noticed the fact I had almost called him by my best friend's name while he was on the verge of making me come.

It took me a second to expel Riley from my mind and re-focus on Rocco.

He went on with his assault, digging the tips of his fingers on the flesh of my hips, holding me still as I went mad with pleasure, almost climbing his face. I inhaled sharply when my body surrendered to the increasing pleasure. A tremor took hold of me and, just to be sure, I bit down on my lip to keep me from screaming anything. Any name. Be that as it may, I still had to force myself to focus on the man who was presently making me come, because an idea (or in this case a name) it's like a deadly virus. Once it burrows its way into your brain you can't get rid of it anymore.

****

Later that night, when my legs were too weak and trembling to allow me to walk, Rocco carried me to his bed and showed me just what a wonderful lover he was. Skilled, attentive, patient, absolutely fantastic.

However, the whole time he was touching me I had trouble turning off my mind. I enjoyed it all very much, came at least three times, but my thoughts kept wanting to go a direction they had no business turning to.

****

The next morning I walked back to my hotel. Rocco had insisted I let him take me, but I felt like stretching my legs a little. So I had walked all fifteen minutes from his place to my hotel, barefeet and grinning like an idiot. Anyone who saw me on the street wouldn't mistake me for anything else but a satisfied woman.

The first thing I did upon arriving was to prepare myself a bath and call Riley. The latter might not have been the best of ideas, considering the thoughts on my mind the night before, but who is a girl to call after such a lovely, lovely date but her best friend? Besides I had called him, or e-mailed him, everyday since I had landed in Paris. I saw no reason to make an exception.

"Ry! He's perfect!" I enthused.

Over the phone I gave Riley a minucius description of Rocco, careful not to do the same depicting the night we had shared. Riley's steady breaths were the only sound on the other side of the line for awhile, then his voice came through, reaching me.

"Yeah. He sounds great." His tone didn't indicate any emotion in particular. He only sounded a little tired. Bored. I attributed that to the time or the long day he had at his sci-fi convention.

"He's incredible. He's going to take me to dinner at the top of the fucking Eiffel Tower, Ry!"

"Wow. Didn't even know you could do that."

"Yeah! You can!"

There was another silent pause that stretched for long enough to worry me the call had suddenly ended.

"Ry? You there?"

I heard Riley's sigh, heavy and long. "So you're like...dating this guy, Ells?" He asked.

I had to stop to think about my answer. I had slept with Rocco, had agreed to have another date with him, but I wasn't sure that meant I was dating him. Anyway, I'd leave in a couple of weeks. There'd be no point in forming an attachment to him.

"No. I don't think so. It's just a thing while I'm here, you know."

"Right."

I knew Riley like the back of my hand. Better, in fact. I probably had looked at Riley's face more times than I had studied my own hand. Something was wrong with him. Even his damn breathing over the distance of an ocean told me that much.

"How was the convention, Ry?"

"Fine." Monosyllabic answer. Strong sign he was all but fine. He was never fine when he said he was fine. Normally, he hated this conventions so much, he had lots to complain about.

"I found your book here! Fancy that! R.L. Fitzgerald and his time travelling adventures in French!" I said, trying to cheer him up.

"Oh, yeah, we had that translated." He would've sounded more enthusiastic had I told him I had a bad rash.

"You ok, Riley? You sound weird."

I heard another sigh and the shuffling of paper. "Yeah, yeah. It's just that I have this deadline for the new book, but I'm blocked. It's weird when you're not at the bistro. It just doesn't feel the same without my muse around." In my mind, I could see with perfect clarity the smile he tried to fake. It killed me that something might be wrong with him when I wasn't there to help. "When are you back?" He asked.

"In 2 weeks."

"I miss you, Ells."

"Miss you too, Ry." And as I said the words, I felt them sting. "Be a good boy. I'll be back soon."

"Ok. I guess I'll see you soon, then." He said. "I love you."

This time the pause came from my side.

"Love you too, Ry."

I hang up, wishing furiously I could be magically transported to where he was just to give him a hug and make him tell me what was actually wrong with him. His beat up excuse "Oh, It's just the book" hadn't worked in years. It was never the damn book. It was something else. Something else entirely.