Chapter Forty Four
They slept in the next morning, lazily making love to each other until the craving for good Colombian coffee over took their lust for s*x. It was a quick walk along the cobblestones to a place named Pichichi’s Café. Irene felt a little out of place, still wearing her rumpled cocktail dress but no one appeared to notice, nor care. Just another tourist lady who hadn’t made it home the night before. In the background, Bachata played on the radio.
The waiter placed two silver carafes on the table. One contained dark espresso coffee, the other scalded milk. They drank off the first pot of coffee while studying the breakfast menu and ordered a second.
“How about a boat ride,” Jack offered, biting into his toasted western sandwich.
Irene was picking apart a balled honeydew
