Her Wet Bikini

Chapter 19

At the end of the second song, Eleanora proposed we stop dancing and go for a walk to the beach. I did not think it was a good idea but I finally agreed. If nothing else, it provided a good excuse to get away from the crowd for a while.

We crossed the road separating the piazza from the beach and walked through the trees straight towards the sea. This is where young couples searching for a quiet spot far from prying eyes came to make out. I’m talking about those who were not bold enough to have s*x on the sand.

When she was sure that nobody from the piazza would see us, Eleanora’s hand reached out for mine. I fumbled with her slender fingers for a few seconds before letting go of them. The fact that I was here with her didn’t mean that I wanted to take advantage of the situation.

“You seem nervous,” she said and laughed.

“Who said I’m nervous?”

“We can kiss if you like.”

“There is no way I’m going to kiss you.”

“Because you’re afraid?”

“I’m not afraid.”

“You’ve got a girlfriend?”

How could I answer this question? Having s*x once with your cousin was not the same as having a girlfriend.

“I don’t have one.”

“I can be your girlfriend and we can make out on the sand like everyone else does.”

“How do you know they make out on the sand?”

“Everybody knows.”

“You got a point there,” I said.

“I have seen them making love on the beach.”

“I hope you didn’t bring the little ones along when that happened.”

She started laughing and gave me a slap on my left shoulder blade. I had to admit, Eleanora was outrageous.

“Hey! I take you out for a walk and you’re hitting me?”

“Shut up,” she said and we approached the beach from behind the trees. We could see the outline of a dark figure lying on the sand. If you looked carefully, you could see it was actually a man and a woman in a state of undress. The woman’s long dressed had been pulled up to her waist and her panties were somewhere at the height of the knees. Her legs were raised above his shoulder and the man’s face was between her legs.

“What are they doing?” asked Eleanora.

“Your guess is as good as mine,” I said not wanting to get into any further descriptions of the act commonly known as c*********s.

“Why aren’t they f*****g?”

“Maybe you should go there and ask them yourself.”

She liked my joke and started laughing out loudly. The couple stopped immediately what they were doing and looked around. My heart started to beat faster and I was instantly overcome by a combined surge of fear and excitement. I grasped Eleanora’s hand ready to shoot off in the opposite direction if necessary.

“Angelo? What is it?” yelped the woman. The tone of her voice betrayed clearly how much she was displeased with the abrupt way Angelo had stopped stimulating her c******s with the tip of his tongue.

Wait a minute…Did she just call him “Angelo?”

Fucking Christ!

The words that came out of the woman’s mouth struck me like lightning. It was my cousin Angelo on the beach. Now that I had heard his name, I could suddenly recognize more traces of my cousin in the obscure form lying on the sand just a few meters away. The dark outline of his muscular body fitted the description perfectly. Yes, it definitely was Angelo.

I had to admire his audacity. He had just arrived and was already cheating on his British girlfriend. Was he still in love with Anita after all these years or was it merely a deliberate act of sabotage towards his relationship with Karen?

“Do you know him?” asked Eleanora. It would be impossible even for a thirteen year old to ignore the obvious signs all over my face.

“Let’s get out of here,” I said and we rushed back to the piazza.

I held Eleanora’s arm and ran straight ahead. She could not keep up with me but that didn’t make me slow down. I only stopped when we reached the end of the piazza.

“Do you think they heard us?” she asked. Now that we were back in the crowd, she had resumed a more childish tone in her manners and voice.

“They definitely did, that’s why we need to split up.”

This was how my little adventure with pretty Eleanora ended. As a final gesture of courtesy, we danced one more song before I took her back to where I had found her. By that time, my mom had also shown up along with her sister and Luigi, who were sitting at the table and talking with a bunch of folks.

“Some of Luigi’s friends showed up with today’s boat. See that guy next to the blonde? He’s a film director.”

The man she was talking about was in his mid-thirties with a large forehead and a small beard. Sitting next to him was a blonde with rather big breasts wearing a flashy tight dress that left little to the imagination.

“That’s too much for this sort of event,” I commented and my mother gave a nod in agreement.

“Where’s are the others?” she asked.

“That way,” I said and I pointed to the other direction of the piazza.

I went that way to find them but the only one still there was Karen. She was chatting with an old guy who seemed to be in his late sixties. Having spent over twenty years in Australia as an immigrant, he had no problem in chatting with her in English. Throughout the entire conversation, he kept on laying his paws all over her. This didn’t seem to bother Karen at all. She maintained her pleasant manners and eventually agreed to dance with him.

“Be careful,” I whispered into her ear. “If you dance with one, you got to dance with all of them!”

“Geez! I feel like I’m in The Wicker Man!”

I had no idea what a Wicker Man was so I made a mental note to ask her afterwards about it. I waved at her while she followed the old man into the dancing crowd. It wasn’t the best way for a young girl to have fun but at least she was getting acquainted with the local community. What was the point of going abroad if you didn’t immerse yourself in the local culture?

I looked around for Paula but I couldn’t see her anywhere. She too was probably dancing with Claudio or his friend. I tried to spot her in the crowd but there were too many people in the mass of swirling forms.

I peeked into the wine jug and I discovered there were a few sips left. I poured them into a glass that I assumed was the same one I drank from earlier but there were no guarantees I had guessed correctly. Who cared? Such details had little significance on a night like this. It didn’t matter if something was yours or not. You just drank from the cup that happened to be in front of you.