One Night In Venice: A Lesbian Erotic Romance Story by Bella Donnis

Author:Bella Donnis
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Published: 2013-12-24T23:00:00+00:00

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Piazza san Margherita still teamed with tourists, despite the dark, though for the most part, they sat at tables drinking wine. Others gathered in small groups, talking and enjoying the warm night climate in one of the world’s most picturesque cities.

Back in England, when drunken people took to the streets, fights always ensued, which drove me crazy. In Venice, everybody relaxed, many danced in the street yet overall, a calm sense of tranquillity swept across on the breeze.

“You’re being very quiet.” Isobel said as we walked over the Rialto Bridge, in the direction of the apartment.

“Am I?” Yes, I was being curt. I felt let down, abandoned and disappointed. What had I been thinking anyway? That a girl like Isobel would get carried away with the emotion of the evening? Did I believe we’d share the perfect kiss in a salsa bar before rushing to the toilets to fuck each other’s brains out? Isobel was one of the most beautiful girls I’d ever clapped eyes on. She could have any guy she wanted. No way was I in with a shot, not even for one night of Italian passion.

After a few salsa dances, I had sat down and finished my wine. She remained on the floor for what seemed like forever. The muscular guy she danced with didn’t want to let her go and insisted on taking her phone number before allowing her to leave the bar.

“Yes! And you know you are.” She prodded me on the arm, hard enough for me to get the message - she was ticked off. How would she be when angry?

Shops on a bridge – The Italians had it down - I had to hand it to the world masters of architecture. I’d be sure to return here alone and spend time browsing the wares on offer.

The apex of the bridge was clear of tourists. I walked to the side and peered into the distance. “Guess it must be getting late.”

“What is wrong with you?” She grabbed my arm, squeezing and for a split-second, a shock of pain ran along my forearm.

“Ow!”

“Talk to me!” She now held both my arms and was close enough for the smell of peach to drift from her long brown hair.

“What can I say – Isobel – There’s something happening here and you know there is!” The blue of her eyes framed enlarged pupils. “How can we share a moment like we had before and then – Nothing!”

I grabbed that tiny waist, explored her torso through her dress with my thumbs, digging in to her flesh. She didn’t flinch. Her hands ran up and down my arms, small hairs on my skin stood on ends. My heart thumped in my chest, heels tapped against stone. I slid hands up the sides of her body, grazing her breasts with the insides of my thumbs - That lean frame shivered as I did.

She pushed me hard against the four hundred year old wall, my back arching over the side. My arms

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