FREE Short Erotica

ANTIPASTI

by Barbie Scott

Padua railway station, the tracks shimmering in the heat haze though the morning is young. Workmen, brown skinned in blue boiler suits stand in the shade of the café tossing grappa down their throats, fortifying themselves for the day. They follow these with cups of bitter espresso, and smoke lustily.

I sprawl on a bench in the sunlight, my grubby t-shirt, jeans and trainers telling the world what I am: student traveller, backpacker, dirty girl. An approaching train thrums the rails of the upline. But I’m going down, down to Venice and the coolness of the canals.

Drowsy in the heat, I don't notice her at first but when she strolls past me, her shadow lingering on my body, I look up. She walks on, an advertisement for Italian womanhood: hair a dark rope down her back, cream linen suit, bare brown legs that start who knows where and end in Gucci sandals.

I follow her with lazy eyes as she saunters, golden fingernails tap-tapping at her big straw bag. When her shadow crosses me again, I shiver. A waft of Acqua di Parma tickles my nostrils and begs me to follow. I don’t, but my eyes do.

When she passes a third time, I am ready for her. I smile a lazy invitation and she sits down beside me.

‘Travelling?’ she says. I nod. ‘Where have you been?’ I reel off a list of previous destinations: Split, Sofia, Belgrade, Athens, Stamboul.

‘Where will you stay in Venezia?’ she asks, her hand grazing mine.

I shiver. ‘Something will turn up.’

‘Come back here,’ she says. ‘Tonight, after you see the sights.’ She pulls a leather notepad out of her bag, scribbles down a phone number. ‘Call me this evening.’ She smiles, her lips full. ‘You remind me of me. When I am a girl.’

I tingle. Me  the unwashed scruff that I am  remind this glorious creature of her younger self?

‘I have travelled too.’ Her deep brown eyes are liquid in reminiscence. ‘Often I had no bed for the night and I was bedded by others. I wish to bed you.’

I blush like a teenager. Is her English letting her down  or does she mean exactly what she says?

She rests her fingertips on my left breast. My hot nipple freezes at her touch and rises up, stiffening. Leaning towards me, she catches my earlobe with her bright little teeth. Her breath is warm on the nape of my neck. People pass by, oblivious of the drama unfolding and she slides her hand down my body, wriggling her fingers under my waistband, down, down to my pulsating sex. When she touches me there, I shudder, gasp. ‘This is just a taste,‘ she says. ‘Antipasti. The full meal will come later.‘ I relax under her caresses and soon a dampness stains my jeans.

The rails sing as my train approaches. ‘Think about it,’ she whispers.

Then she is gone, clip-clopping down the platform. I swing my backpack into the nearest carriage and do as she says: I think about it. I think about it a lot.

~ ~ ~
Copyright: Barbie Scott 2011

Antipasti will appear in my next collection of short stories later in the year.

In the meantime, read my current collection.

NEWSFLASH! Antipasti (and the rest of the meal!) is now available as DINNER WITH DANIELA