The Rarest Treasure

"Well, baby... when you're loved as much as I am, there comes a time when you realize that you don't need to hold on to the past or look like Rapunzel to feel a woman... I suppose I'm trying to say that, thanks to you, I was ready for this."

"Wow... huh... Zooey, I don't know what to say..."

"Don't say anything... just come here." Zooey was waiting for Lawrence with open arms. They kissed to signal their love and also remind them that they had missed one another. Also, Lawrence was thrilled to rediscover her hair all over again and he kept combing them with his fingers.

When Lawrence ended the kiss, he quickly perused all around the apartment: all the extra shopping bags were gone and the easel was nowhere to be seen. "I see you've packed already..."

"Yes, darling... it's all in the Sub already. I wanted us to have some final time to ourselves."

"Of course, baby." Lawrence scooped Zooey up in his arms and he kissed her tenderly. There was no pondering or hesitation: he went straight to bed and that's exactly was Zooey hoped for.

Lawrence found out, the hard way, that undressing your girlfriend in tight jeans and t-shirt is quite more difficult and not nearly as romantic than when she is wearing a loose dress. Zooey softly laughed, teasing him, and finally helped him disrobe. Lawrence lost eye contact with her only the time it took for him to undress as well and, we his eyes met hers again, Lawrence saw such love and sparkle in them that he had to let out a huge sigh of emotion.

Zooey was equally enthralled. "You're my hero..."

"And you're the rarest treasure. Don't you forget it."

The kiss and the loving scuffle in bed that followed were full of passion, yes, but also full of urgency and desperation; both knew their next private encounter would occur only in forty days. Lawrence kept kissing, nibbling and licking Zooey's neck, her ears, her breasts for quite some time, her legs, her feet, her bottom, everywhere. They gave each other brand new hickeys and moaned their happiness while doing so.

And then it was time for Lawrence to dote on Zooey's Venus Mons. He caressed her hips and waited for her to grant permission, which she did by slowly spreading her legs and taking a deep breath.

Lawrence then gently kissed the outside of her small lips, all over; he seemed at ease in no hurry to directly stimulate her clitoris or her inside walls. And Zooey could not so much hear as feel Lawrence whisper "I love you" between each one of his loving smooches. She truly felt in heaven.

Lawrence now moved to her clit. He nibbled it and, at the same time, he let his hands roam all over her thighs and the side of her derriere. His mouth never left her clitoris without contact, be it with lips or tongue. He also moaned his enjoyment and Zooey felt these loving vibes run all along her spine.

Zooey was also realizing that Lawrence needed no more coaching or encouragement: he knew her vulva intimately and knew how to care for it. At exactly the right time, Lawrence let his tongue slither and migrate from the tip of her clit to the length of her small lips. He loudly inhaled her sexual aroma and rubbed the tip of his nose on purpose along her slit.

Lawrence knew Zooey was ready; he began fondling her small lips with his fingers, and then gently moved them apart so that he could probe her inside walls with a finger. He did so without rush, without brute force; he began a loving conversation with his beloved.

"Zooey... I absolutely love eating your pussy, baby... thank you for sharing it with me..."

"Thank me? Thank you... for all the beauty you make me feel inside... and the pleasure we share..."

"I love you... I will miss you... and I will miss all this..."

"So will I, baby love... this time... our time... it has been so perfect..."

"Mmmm, mmmm..." Lawrence had smothered her clit in his mouth once again and begun caressing her insides with two fingers; he put a little more intensity into his loving and it was obvious that, at this time, his goal had changed from stimulation to orgasm. He kept on moaning his love and fondling her vulva all over, all at once. He moved his free hands upwards, to begin also cuddling her breasts and tease her nipples.

Zooey did not speak, did not coach, and did not urge: she just let herself go, awash in bliss, and moaned loudly at every breath. For the first time, Lawrence felt he was the virtuoso playing his instrument with maestra, and that rush of self-worth alone was enough to stiffen his shaft to diamond hardness. He listened to the beautiful crescendo of Zooey's moans and scaled his loving in full harmony. They both knew that her climax would be reached soon.

Zooey's whole body shook with her voice when she came; she kept on slapping the bed with her hands and she drenched Lawrence in seminal fluids. Lawrence, for his part, was quite elated to slowly transpose his fondling from fortissimo to pianissimo. While Zooey was catching her breath, she did not notice Lawrence leaving her side to go fetch her lubricant.

"BabyyyYYY?" She barely had time to feel his absence. Lawrence had begun rubbing his glans and his shaft on her clit and her very wet slit. He was still playing with her, for his immediate benefit: he doted on his own sex to insure its readiness. When it was moist and at its hardest, he gently coated all of Zooey's vulva with lubricant and he wiped the excess of his hands on his own shaft.

His penetration was effortless and a velvety caress all along Zooey's vagina. She became wide-eyed and aroused anew, screaming in bliss. But this afternoon, Lawrence was as soft as he was hard. His loving was slow and deliberate, he took her hands in his and he gently lowered himself on her, softly pressing her breasts on his chest, and kissed her with all the love he had.

His tongue was moving with the same sloth as his pillar. He moaned in joy throughout their lovemaking. Zooey felt that all of hers was his, to the point that she thought that her very soul was branded by his love. Lawrence felt everything for Zooey and absolutely nothing beyond her: no care, no time, no space. He had given up a long time ago trying to explain their connection and, right now, he happily knew they were both reliving their private miracle.

Zooey climaxed, still pinned under her man and joyfully sensing that Lawrence was nowhere near done. She clasped her legs around his bottom and signaled with her hands that she wished them set free; Lawrence did so and he was rewarded by torrid caresses all along his back, his nape and his hair. She had reversed the kiss and she was now the one penetrating his mouth with her tongue.

Slowly but inexorably, Lawrence's self-control began to falter under all her passion. Zooey was overjoyed to feel his thrusts in her quicken and impact her with more and more force. In the end, they were both one, but also both wildly out of control; they wanted and dreaded the end of their coupling at the same time. The moans in their kiss were now just as desperate as they were passionate.

And, suddenly, Zooey was the only one moaning, climaxing along the powerful gushes she felt inside her. Lawrence groaned, then whimpered and then was mute, completely consumed by his orgasm. He had given all of himself to her.

Lawrence and Zooey rested on the bed, spooned tight together. They were catching their breaths and also trying to share the rhythm of their heartbeats. Both were in tears; from the intensity of what they had just experienced and the sadness of having to forsake it.

They spoke very little. They got dressed, made the bed, kissed decorously and left the apartment.

6. - ... you only live twice

"Well, Vince... that's it for me."

"All done, Larry?"

"Yup... my last report is finished."

"And at home?"

"My belongings are in storage and I returned my apartment key before coming here. Will you mind terribly if I return one of my uniforms worn once and unwashed?"

"You're really leaving?"

"Yes... back to Montreal I go; I'll stay at my parent's place for a couple of days, then I'm taking a small vacation and then, when I return, I'll weigh all my options for the future."

"Well, in that case, keep the uniforms, will you? If one of your options brings you back here, call me and I'll take you back ASAP. Unless you REALLY need the 35$ deposit back..."

"No, no... the money's good; you're serious about this?"

"Sure! You're a good agent, you're my best closer and, like, how many security firms can boast that they have a PhD on staff?"

"Then I will do that. Thanks Vince, and farewell... it's been fun." Their handshake was firm and heartfelt.

"Goodbye Larry and Godspeed..."

---

Lawrence woke up, feeling like he had just escaped the realm of the dead. After rolling all over the king size bed, left and right, he realized he was alone; he wasn't supposed to be.

(Nooooo... Zooey, you didn't...)

The blur of the last 24 hours came down crashing on his anxious soul. His parents had warned him; Zooey had warned him; but Lawrence was way too excited by his first international flight to sleep. He had spent the 13 hours flight to Nice, then the train ride, then the cab to the Hotel Nazionale, which neighbors the Casino Municipale di Sanremo - almost 16 hours of travel in all, plus the six hours time zone change - wide awake. Zooey had been too happy to see him again to chastise him, but after a welcoming quickie, she had ordered he rest and she had massaged him to sleep for good measure.

And now, Lawrence was all alone in the deluxe hotel room, listening to Zooey's album that had been playing on repeat.

Upon closer inspection, he found a note.

"Come meet me at the Sala Dorata e Privata

ask for Flavio, it's all taken care of

I love you"

At least, he had managed to feed himself adequately during his journey and, now, Lawrence felt great. He shut off the music player and wasted no time performing quick ablutions. Afterwards, he took out the newly-bought Canali dress shirt and bow tie from their packaging and dressed himself in Canali from neck to ankle. While adjusting his bow tie, in front of the mirror, he could not resist introducing himself to his reflection "Bond, James Bond."

After a final check to make sure that he forgot nothing, Lawrence stepped out and walked to the Casino, under a near-full moon and a comfortable 14 degrees Celsius temperature. He stopped dead in his tracks in front of the grand stairway, awed by the Art Nouveau building that had survived two world wars and two occupations. He would have loved to have made a grand entrance with his beloved; now he would have to make due with a grand exit. Glancing at his watch, Lawrence guessed Zooey must have been playing for about two hours by now. He went in.

Lawrence asked for directions, bought some casino chips and quickly made his way to the private room. He instinctively walked towards someone who looked like he was part of the building.

"Mr. Flavio?"

"Si... are you the companion of Ms. Nummi?"

"Yes... can you take me to her, please?"

"Of course, follow me..."

"Thank you."

For a room whose name means golden, Lawrence was surprised by the preponderance of white. But the splendor of the luminaries and the sober elegance of the tables gave it a definite golden aura of refinement. And then Lawrence saw Zooey.

"Wait a second, please, Flavio..."

"Is there something wrong, Sir?"

"No... I just want to look at her for a second..."

Zooey was absolutely stellar. She was wearing a scintillating red sequin V-neck sleeveless sheath dress; it had a wide split, which allowed Lawrence to gawk at her sumptuous legs from afar. She had styled her hair up in an exquisite braided bun and, from the distance, seemed to be wearing silver stiletto heels. Lawrence also saw his bracelet on her, which made him sigh, and a vermillion chocker necklace on her neck.

Flavio did as asked, with a paternal smile, and spoke softly. "Then, if you allow me the comment, Miss Nummi has a very good taste in clothing and in men; unfortunately, she does not seem to have so much good luck..."

"Why? What happened?"

"She has run afoul of Carlo Montezemolo, who is behaving as his usual porcine self..."

"Montezemolo... the one from Ferrari?"

"A distant nephew... but one can still guess how entitled he believes himself to be..."

"Does he play often?"

"Whenever he is in Sanremo; always at the Sala Dorata, since it reopened, and always betting the top wager of 500 Euros."

"Ouch..." Lawrence figured that facing such a dilettante could possibly drain Zooey's resources quickly.

"Indeed; two players have already left the table. And I'm afraid that your milady will not last long... come..."

Lawrence stood behind Zooey, too caught up in sharing her misery to notice how stunning was her back. Her dress was covering her and also devastatingly exposing her.

Lawrence ever so gently kissed Zooey's hair. She acknowledged his presence quickly, between two hands, and whispered. "Hi baby... I think I got suckered into taking down this prick... I'm almost done... more time for hooky!" The brave face she was putting up for him could not mask her deception. His heart cracked.

"Bet of 500 Euros..." all in the table stayed silent until it was time for Zooey to speak. "Banco."

"Ha! Again... you should save your money and buy yourself something else than a prom dress for teenage girls!"

"Will you just deal the two cards, please..." Zooey was making a supreme effort of courtesy. Lawrence could feel her boil.

Zooey barely had time to check her two cards; the banker had already turned his right-side up. "Eight!" The croupier seemed equally indisposed but remained silent. Zooey sighed: she had a 9 and a 4, a total of three. The croupier transferred the chips to the banker.

"Bet of 500 Euros..." all again remained silent. Zooey sighed in despair and announced "200." And she whispered to Lawrence "well, that's it for me..." But Lawrence was anything if not analytical, and he understood what was happening: the locals were booting out the visitor. He was hopping mad and waiting for his moment.

"No other wages?" asked the croupier.

"300." When Lawrence placed the chips on the carpet alongside Zooey's, there was a collective gasp, including from Zooey. She was trying to pull his sleeve but Lawrence was dealing with the croupier. "I believe visitors are allowed to wager, when the table will not?"

If anything, the croupier looked almost pleased. "Certainly, Monsieur."

In an instant, all eyes were on Lawrence. "The cards, please, signor Montezemolo." He dealt the cards, mumbling to himself. When Zooey tried to touch the cards, Lawrence held her hand. "Wait, darling, you forgot your lucky charm in our hotel room... here." He handed her over a rabbit's foot chain, set in a bronze cast with the name Zooey engraved on it. He quickly whispered "happy birthday" before asking out loud "may I?" When Zooey acquiesced, completely lost in this quick turn of events, Lawrence kissed the rabbit's foot and peeked at the cards: it was a queen and a 5 - a five.

Zooey looked at Lawrence, who nodded in assent. "Carte". The banker dealt her a 3.

The banker stayed. Zooey revealed her total of eight, winning over Carlo Montezemolo's seven. It was only a 500 Euros bet, but the murmurs at the table made it feel like a million.

"You take a card on a five? I never do that..."

"Do I look like I care?" Zooey was ebullient.

Now, Lawrence knew that the croupier was giddy and fighting not to show it. "Will you want to sit down, sir?" He was pointing at the empty chair next to him and directly to the right of the obnoxious banker. It was a bold invitation: if he accepted, Lawrence would next have the shoe.

He looked at Zooey. "Should I?"

Zooey was utterly flabbergasted and looked at her beloved like an alien abductee. She chuckled. "Go... go!"

Lawrence took out of large stack of chips out of his jacket pocket, visibly worth several thousand Euros, and left it in front of Zooey. "That's for later, darling..." and he walked towards the chair and sat down.

"Bonsoir everybody... Lawrence Linney."

The croupier passed the shoe. "Signor... what is your wager?"

But the defeated banker barked orders in a very quick Italian; this unsettled the croupier greatly and he, in turn, called on Flavio to arbitrate. Lawrence figured that someone would eventually speak to him in English and he waited. He was right.

It was Flavio who asked. "Signor Linney, as you seem to have the means, signor Montezemolo has requested that you let the train ride... this is beyond the house policy for this table and you should feel absolutely free to refuse."

"By train ride, I suppose you mean let the wager accumulate?"

"As long as one has the shoe, yes."

Lawrence did the quick exponential calculation and smiled wryly. "Au contraire, I agree... this will be fun." Zooey was wide-eyed; Flavio and the croupier both seemed to be perversely pleased.

All eyes were again on Lawrence. He got his cue. "Bet of 1 000 Euros."

The table was mute until it was Carlo's turn to announce "banco."

Lawrence dealt two cards to his opponent. He was unsure of himself and watched the croupier for approval, which he got. He then dealt himself a ten and an ace.

"Carte." Lawrence gave Carlo the card he asked for, a 2. "Six."

Lawrence gave himself a card, a 6. "Seven." Lawrence was amused at the murmurs: they seemed to increase in volume with the size of the bet.

"So, you are from Canada, like your girlfriend?" Carlo had said the last word in a tone that meant cheap floozy.

"Yes. Bet of 2 000 Euros."

"Banco." Carlo had not waited his turn to call but nobody at the table raised issue, so obvious was the enmity between them.

Lawrence dealt him his cards. He quickly turned them with a satisfied grin. "Eight!"

Lawrence nodded at the natural. He turned a jack and a 9. "Nine."

Carlo was getting flustered. "You seem to be in luck tonight..."

"Indeed. Bet of 4 000 Euros."

"Banco."

He dealt the cards. No natural this time, but Carlo stayed, which meant he had a six or a seven in his hand.

Lawrence looked at his cards, a queen and a 10 - a baccarat. He dealt himself a card, an 8. This time, he could not resist an evil grin and turned his cards right away, even if he was not supposed to. "Eight."

"I suppose it is your first time, yes? It must be... only beginners have suck dumb luck."

"Sir, this is not metamorphic petrography... it's not even blackjack... for all its fame, this is a game of luck, and luck has deserted you. For the rest, I can count between 0 and 9." Flavio chuckled. This made Carlo's mood worse. "Bet of 8 000 Euros."

"Banco."

Lawrence dealt the four cards, and Carlo asked for another one. Lawrence dealt him a 9. He looked at his cards: he had a king and a 3 - a measley three. Lawrence dealt himself a 10 and feared that his lucky run might be about to end.

Carlo turned a queen and a 2 over his 9, a one. Lawrence turned his cards and could barely stifle a giggle. "Three."

But, looking at the pile of chips, Lawrence now felt that he might be pushing it. "Do I let the train ride?"

Flavio and the croupier both shrugged. Carlo was pure vitriol. "What is it that you do, mister Linney?"

"I am a geologist."

"Oh... so, just because you found some gold and have a run of good luck, you think I deserve pity?"

"Actually, I found neodymium; you should go home and look it up. Bet of 16 000 Euros."

"Banco!" That was almost a scream. Lawrence took a moment to look at Zooey: she was petrified and barely breathing. He blew her a kiss and dealt the four cards.

"Carte!" Lawrence looked at him, shook his head to refuse and turned an ace and a 7, a natural eight.

Carlo sneered. "Do you really think you will drive me away from this table, you and your cheap suit?"