Page 9 of Wicked

3

RAVEN

It is a perfect day, and the Tuscan coastline has taken my breath away. I’ve almost finished the travel article, and I’ve got plenty of photos. I’m in the most beautiful part of Italy, and I start to take my time.

The foods, the views, the coast, and vineyards are to die for.

I adore everything about the glorious nation. The views, foods, wines, fashion, and statues have to be the best in the world.

Even if Italy is not huge, like the US, I traveled faster than expected. I partly blame the red sports car; her and I have had a ball.

After stopping near a beach, I look around. There is no one besides a dear old fisherman in the distance.

I peel off my clothes, and quickly, I run into the perfectly warm Mediterranean Sea in my thong and bra.

Ten minutes later, dripping wet, I stand in my towel and sweep my eyes around the coast. There are castles and villas peppered about, and the cutest old villages.

As I drink cool sparkling water, I see a cute castle along the road. It’s a quiet and gorgeous area. I try the few Italiansentences I know and have been practicing and I do a little yoga on the towel.

While driving, I’ve listened to YouTube videos on Italian language.When in Rome! I have also learned Italian for hours and hours, and I’m better than I expected to be.

I also picked up some naughty words, and I blame playful YouTubers for that. The YouTube language lessons were another good escape from my ongoing sexual frustrations.

The combination of eye fucking from hot Italian men and my vibrator being in my long-lost bag are not good. I’m a darned time-bomb.

I remember the terrible Tinder date I had back in Milan. I then remember the guy. He was my age, but he looked like he’d not seen a gym or the sun. He had clearly seen heavy pastas, likely three a day, forever.

His old Vespa scooter parked at the café didn’t help, and it was confusing. Confusing how there are so many hot guys around, but for some reason, none of them were in my path.

As I huff and roll over, I remember the European custom.

I unclip my bra and double check I’m alone. I then lay back and work on my tan, topless.

As the sun warms my body and my breasts are free, I bite my lip. I so need someone in me, enough is enough.

Most of my friends are already in long term relationships. I don’t know what I’m doing wrong. I cannot seem to meet anyone. I think it’s time. Time to give up and just get on with my life.

“Enough,” I mumble to myself.

I decide to stay at the travel company, finish my novel, then leave for a quieter state. A place where I can forget guys and just work on my lifestyle. Move to a small town, get a horse, and dig in until I die.

An hour later,as I drive around the coast, I wonder if I’m broken, too curvy or even both. The more I think about it, the more frustrated I become. It’s hard to know if everyone in the world gets to find the one.

All I know is that no one has come close, and maybe, just maybe, I should give up.

Finding someone to have sex with is hard. Finding someone for love must beimpossible.

As I head along the glorious Tuscan coast, it becomes even more stunning. Tuscany is regarded as one of the most beautiful areas in the world, and the rolling hills, vineyards, and views take my breath away.

I drive, take photos, and talk into the recording app, my eyes are full of wonder. It may be dangerous, but the winding roads are quiet, and heck, what’s the worst that can happen?

4

DANTE

I knock on the Tuscan villa’s oak door, and my body tightens. The large two-story home is far more than my parents need, but things change slowly in old Europe.

I’m back to do one thing. Help do up the home, for them, and sell it.

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