Hot summer sun
Roma in the cooling down of the evening.
The smell of wildflowers from the center of the roughhewn table.
A closeknit group of friends, male and female.
A girl, alone within that group, drinking heavy red wine
leaning back against the rough wood of the chair, her legs spread just a little underneath her excuse for a dress in pale yellow that showcases long smooth legs.
Dark as midnight tresses caressing the bared shoulders and waving softly down her back.
Heat being felt as someone stared at her from behind.
Stared enough to almost make her jump in reaction but she stayed where she was and her right arm languidly lifted the wine glass, her throat automatically opening and closing as she sipped and swallowed.
A scrapping sound heard to her suddenly tuned in senses as the chair across from her was pulled back.
A slow turning of her body so that she swiveled around to face him.
A man with a face of a dark angel, all sharp planes and intriguing features. Hair as black as coal that falls over eyes as black as darkness itself. A full, sensual mouth that looked as if it had tasted many women and still was in need of more. The voice, when he spoke, sent shivers down her spine.
He began by outrageously flirting with her, all in Italian of course, the mother tongue of Roma, a romantic language all it's own and it served his purpose as she began to relax in his company, even to flirt back, her blue eyes dancing with mischief.
More wine was poured, more consumed as the friends she had come with made room for others that had entered, packing them in so that they were pressed tight together.
He took advantage of the crush and moved to the chair beside her, turning her around so that her back was to him, allowing him the pleasure of leaning forward to brush back the hair from her neck and to whisper in her ear.
Seductive tones emanated from his throat, deepening his voice that became more persuasive, more enthralling by the moment.
The hours passed, it grew later and later and still he remained where he was and the conversation became that of a demand, silkily issued but a demand it was.
Bright color staining her pale cheeks, she turned a bit in her chair, so that her lower body was hidden by the red and white tablecloth that covered the table.
Shaky hands reached beneath the yellow dress, lifting it slowly, steadily upwards, her colour increasing but going unnoticed in the semi darkness that surrounded them.
Finding the small scrap of white lace that adorned silken thighs, she tugged them lower, alternately lifting upwards to ease their path.
The movements felt as if they had taken hours though in fact only a few minutes had passed.
She lifted her foot upwards and reached for the lace that was caught there, bunching it into a fist in her hand and turning to him, dropping it in to his larger hand and covering it with her two, whispering back to him.
A deep, amused laugh answered her as he took what she gave him.
The chair he sat in was scraped backwards, the other hand reaching for one of hers and tugging her to her feet so that the dress momentarily was still lifted up, baring her briefly to any that might have glanced her way.
Secretly, she lowered it and allowed him to grip her hand.
Another whispered laugh in her ear had her turning around, a furious flood of colour back in her cheeks as she saw the white lace garment laid in the middle of the table where all could see.
She was already committed to follow wherever he led as the door to the outside opened and they stepped through....