Emma's Antics

CH01

Rome is beautiful this time of the year but I don't have time to stop and enjoy it; it is my first day at work and I'm late. I run through the narrow streets, slipping on the smooth cobble stones. It is days like these I miss having a driver or a car for that matter. I am frazzled and out of breath by the time I arrive; though, I still notice the man holding the door open for me. He is blonde, strong shoulders, and handsome, much too handsome. He has a square jaw, a straight prominent nose, at least an inch or two over six feet, and has a friendly sexy smile. He has beautiful intense eyes the color of honey which sparkle against his cream colored sweater. Since the doorman holds open the opposite door, the handsome honey-colored-eyed man must be a guest. I nod and smile as my heart thunders and I continue through the familiar glass doors to my doom.

It is ironic, really; Villa Grazioli is my childhood home but the new owners turned it into a hotel. It has been years since I walked the long hallways and I am pleased with the restoration work - the old place is back to its elegant beauty. A massive building of stucco, stone and wood with frescoes and murals; I think my grandparents would be proud.

"Emma Grazioli here for Mr. Zocco." I address the hostess with as much grace as I can muster at the moment. I wonder what centuries worth of ancestors are thinking of me. I feel, rather than see, the man at the door checking me out and when I turn to face him, he smiles a crocked dimpled smile. He must be my age or in his late-twenties at most; we make and keep eye contact and as he raises his eyebrows I notice three folds on his forehead. Mr. Zocco interrupts our eye contact.

After greetings, I follow Mr. Zocco to one of the apartments in the back of the property. He does not know, but it used to be where my grandparents stayed when they came to visit. It still looks the same with peach colored walls and dark formal furniture. It feels like the home I remember. I would ride my little red bike through the stone path to tea with granny; the memory is so strong I can taste the lemon cake with silk smooth custard.

"I'm glad you can take on this project," Mr. Zocco brings me out of my revere. "You know this place inside and out," he continues, "I do not think it could be in better hands."

I smile at the stubby old man; if a tree could talk, it would look like old Mr. Zocco. "Thank you. Do you have any ideas?" We discuss function, colors and furniture as well as the overall feel he wants; I try my best not to cringe when he answers 'modern.' After hours of cataloging and measurements I go back to my office and brief my team, by the time I make my way home I am physically and mentally exhausted.

I am ready to head out with my friend Bea after some sulking, a small break, some wine, and a quick shower.

"I am telling you, he was gorgeous. Broad shoulders and messy blonde hair. I think he was checking me out too." I tell Bea with a sigh. "I would have approached him; I should have. I probably would have gotten fired but maybe it would have been worth it."

"You, my friend, need to get laid. I know it has been a while..." Bea trails off expectantly looking at me. I nod in agreement, it is true and she knows it; there is no point to disagree. "Maybe I should set you up?" I shake my head but she ignores me and continues. "I know this guy, he is your type."

"No," I say emphatically, gulping my water. "No blind dates. I don't do well with blind dates." I use my fork to point at her and finish my scampi.

"Why did you and blue eyes break up again?"

"Just because everyone is with someone, it doesn't mean I need to."

She nods in understanding and then claps her hands. "Why don't we go to Aise!" Bea proclaims, as if it were the most natural progression to my stressful and emotionally charged day.

I shake my head. Bea and I go out once in a while; like tonight, we usually have dinner. Once though, we ended up at the Aise Club and Bea has gone back a few times without me. Bea knows the doorman of the exclusive sex club and it helps that she is absolutely beautiful; though she claims my last name has a something to do with it. Aise caters to elite clientele, swinging couples and singles alike and puts some live shows in which the customers can participate if so desired. Besides paying a pretty penny, I think the entry fee includes a minimum beauty standard because I have never seen an unattractive person there. Also, for the exhibitionist, there are non-private alcoves scattered about the place to do anything that consensual adults... well consent to. Those get used equally by partners as well as casual hook ups.

Unlike Bea, however, I have never participated in any of the activities that go on and I am not planning in changing that any time soon eventually we do end up at Aise. There atmosphere is intoxicating much like every other club in the world. It is a bit smoky, people dance, talk, drink, and laugh. The smell of alcohol and bodies over power anything else and there is a mix of low light around the room with bright blinking lights shining a dance floor to the beat of techno music. Couples dance and grind against each other but most people stand around a platform watching the show. Tonight, the show has a short but good looking dark man dripping hot wax from a bright pink candle on a red haired girl. She has some seriously big boobs - I wonder how she does not topple over when she walks.

Bea is moving her hips at the rhythm to the music and I feel the stress of the day finally melting away. I smile, my first care free simile of the day. "Do you think that burns?" I ask Bea. The red haired girl does not seem to be in pain but some people have a much higher pain threshold than I do.

"No." Bea answers me much too confidently. "The wax is cooler than regular candles, it is not as hot," she winks and finishes her wine with a smirk. Sometimes I feel inexperienced and wonder if it is just me that don't know these things. "Let's go and see what mischief we can get into," she says and I let her drag me further into the club.