Venice Noir by Maxim Jakubowski

Author:Maxim Jakubowski [Jakubowski, Maxim]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Suspense, ebook, book
ISBN: 9781617750731
Publisher: akashic books
Published: 2012-05-29T04:00:00+00:00

PART III

TOURISTS & OTHER TROUBLED FOLK

VENICE APHRODISIAC

BY PETER JAMES

Canal Grande

The first time they came to Venice, Johnny had told his wife he was on an important case; Joy had told her husband she was visiting her Italian relatives.

In the large, dingy hotel room with its window overlooking the Canal Grande, they tore off each other’s clothes before they had even unpacked, and made love to the sound of lapping water and vaporetti blattering past outside. She was insatiable; they both were. They made love morning, noon, and night, only venturing out for food to stoke up their energy. On that trip they barely even took time out to glimpse the sights of the city. They had eyes only for each other. Horny eyes, greedy for each other’s naked body. And aware of how precious little time they had.

Johnny whispered to her that Woody Allen, whose movies they both loved, was once asked if he thought that sex was dirty, and Woody had replied, “Only if you are doing it right.”

So they did it right. Over and over again. And in between they laughed a lot. Johnny told Joy she was the sexiest creature in the world. She told him no, he was.

One time, when he was deep inside her, she whispered into Johnny’s ear, “Let’s promise each other to come back and make love here in his room every year, forever.”

“Even after we’re dead?” he said.

“Why not? You’re stiff when you’re dead, aren’t you? Stiff as a gondolier’s oar!”

“You’re a wicked woman, Joy Jackson!”

“You wouldn’t like me if I wasn’t, you horny devil!”

“We could come back as ghosts, couldn’t we, and haunt this room?”

“We will!”

Two years later, acrimoniously divorced and free, they married. And they honeymooned in Venice in the same hotel—a former palazzo—in the same room. While they were there, they vowed as before to return to the same room every year for their anniversary, and they did so, without fail. In the beginning they always got naked long before they got around to unpacking. Often, after dining out, they got so horny they couldn’t wait until they got back to the hotel.

One time they did it late at night in a moored gondola. They did it beneath the Rialto Bridge. And under several other bridges. Venice cast its spell—coming here was an aphrodisiac to them. They drank Bellinis in their favorite café in Piazza San Marco, swigged glorious white wines from the Friuli district, and gorged on grilled seafood in their favorite restaurant, the Corte Sconta, which they always got lost trying to find, every year.

Some mornings, spent with passion, they’d take an early water taxi and drink espressos and grappa on the Lido at sunrise. Later, back in their dimly lit hotel room, they took photographs of each other naked and filmed themselves making love. One time, for fun, they made plaster of paris impressions of what Joy liked to call their rude bits. They were so in lust, nothing it seemed could stop them, or could ever change.

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