“What’s wrong?”
“I don’t drink,” I said. “I mean, I’m too young.”
“Not here, you’re not,” she grinned. “Taste the fruit of the vine, my dear. In vino, veritas.”
I got used to it. By the time the dinner came I was on my second glass and she made sure I had a third. I felt a little tipsy.
“Good,” she said. “I have you just where I want you. We’ll go back to the hotel, paint each other’s toenails and play truth or dare.”
I burst out laughing, too loud, only to yelp and jump when I felt a soft caress on my leg. Her bare toes on my skin. She was leaning on her folded hands, and her arms pressed her breasts together into perfect, creamy cleavage. Her lips were rich and full, and here eyes smoldered. A little quirk of her lips made my stomach flutter and my heart jackhammer in my chest. What was wrong with me? Why was I looking at her this way?
Slowly, she reached across the table and brushed a stray lock of hair out of my eyes. Her soft fingers traced down my cheek and returned to cup her own as she rested her face in her hands.
“Can I tell you a secret?” she said.
“I guess,” I said. My heart raced even faster.
Her foot stroked further up my leg, pushing up the hem of my loose khakis.
“You have to promise not to tell anybody.”
“I promise,” I said, with all the solemnity of a wine buzz.
“You’re a very pretty girl,” she said. “Young woman, I mean.”
“Th-thank you,” I stammered.
“Do you think I’m pretty?”
I gaped at her for a full minute.
“You’re so beautiful it hurts to look at you,” I whispered.
She laughed softly. “Thank you. When my husband left me I worried.”
“Why’d he leave you?” I said.
She took a swig of wine and swirled the rest in the glass. “In vino veritas,” she muttered. “You want the truth? I never wanted to get married. My mother expected me to marry and start popping out children.”
“Were you afraid you’d ruin your body?” I slurred. “You have a nice body.”
“No, it wasn’t that,” she sighed. “I’d like to be a mother. To care for someone, but marriage wasn’t for me. Not to a man, anyway. I prefer the company of women.”
“You’re a lesbian?” I blurted. Thank God we were in a place where no one spoke English.
She looked at me and her lips spread into a sloppy, achingly pretty grin. “What tipped you off?”
I swallowed, hard. “You think I’m pretty.”
Her other foot lifted up and caressed my other leg. “Very pretty. Beautiful, even. If you had a little more confidence and knew how to dress you could be a stunner. Do you have a boyfriend?”
I shook my head. “I’m not allowed. I mean I am, but I’m not. It’s complicated.”
“You’re a big girl. You should do what you want.”
“I guess,” I said softly. My last gulp of wine burned my throat.
“Do you have a girlfriend?”
I choked on the wine. “Um.”
She was still playing footsie with me. “Ever think about having one?”
“Maybe,” I said. My internal censor was drunk at her job. “I think about you a lot.”
“Liked what you saw? I caught you peeking.”
“Peeking?” I said, again too loudly. “You were buck-assed naked.”
She laughed, I mean threw her head back and laughed for thirty seconds. “Lets’ go back to the room. Cameriere! Vieni qui!”
After she paid the check and laid a generous tip on the table, she looped her arm through mine like we were on a date and we giggled out way to a cab. The driver got quite a show as Sheila fell all over me, sliding her arms around my waist, plunging her face in my hair to breathe deep. She barely remembered to tell the driver where to go.
When we got back to the room she came up behind me, slid her arms around me, and threw me onto the bed. She moved like a cat as she crawled up over the bed and pressed me down. Her hands slid up over my wrists and hands and she laced her fingers between mine and pressed my hands down.
“Truth or dare,” she whispered.
I swallowed. “Truth.”
She rested her head on my shoulder and whispered in my ear. “Are you a virgin?”
“Yes.”
“You’re lying.”
“I am!”
“Oh,” she said. “I’m not. Your turn.”
“Truth or dare.”
“Dare,” she purred.
“Oh. Um,” I said. “I dare you to, ah-“
“Take off my top.”
She sat up, straddling me, and whipped her top over her head. It landed on my bed with a soft whisper. She took my hands by the wrists and pressed them to her stomach, and started sliding them upwards. My mouth went dry and I was shaking like a leaf. Her skin was silky smooth and soft, but as she moved and breathed I could feel the steel coil muscles underneath. She moved my hands up and up, until my fingers slid under the soft weight of her breasts, then gave them a little tug. As she pulled my touch higher, my hands closed around her breasts. Her nipples hardened against my palm. I could feel her heartbeat, and her skin was so soft and warm. She leg go and leaned forward, pressing her soft mounds into my hands. I squeezed and she yelped a little, then smirked at me. I was absolutely fascinated. I ran my hands along the outer curves, then down her sides as she leaned forward.