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Authors: Alicia Lane Dutton

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BOOK: Bound for the Outer Banks
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Most of the guests were finding ascending the trolley steps for the ride back to the hotel that afternoon challenging. One very inebriated college aged tourist was completely oblivious that someone, Ella assumed her boyfriend, had slid the two triangles of her bikini top to the side revealing half the girl’s breasts and nipples. When Ella saw a few flashes from the cellphone cameras coming from behind her, she snapped her head around and glared at those taking the pictures.

 

Although the pair had reservations for a wine tasting in the hotel winery that night, they asked if their wines could be delivered to the spa. Dante surprised Ella by renting the “Suite Amante” or Lover’s Suite in the spa. Their private hideaway for the night consisted of an oversized tub fashioned after a wine barrel, a massive, mosaic shower with sunburst designs in cobalt blue, canary yellow, and magenta, and a spa massage bed. Inside a hand woven Italian basket were all types of edible massage oils including Aaaah Almond, Kama Sutra Kalamata, Suck-ulent Strawberry, and Slippery Sweet Marjoram.

 

Upon entering, Ella turned in circles taking in the beauty of the romantic suite. Perched on a clear, acrylic table beside the already suds filled tub, were five glasses for each of them filled with assorted wines with cards leaning on the stems identifying each one. There was a Riesling, a Pinot Grigio, a Sauvignon Blanc, and two types of Chardonnay. On a separate clear table at the head of the tub were different cheeses, nuts, and dried fruits in martini glasses.

 

Ella and Dante had worn only their white terry spa robes into the suite knowing clothes would not be needed on this night. Dante began the shower, dimmed the overhead lights, and turned on the stereo which was wired to the multicolored lighting in the suite. The stereo was set up like an abridged XM radio with four or five music genres. Dante turned the knob to the notch simply labeled SEX MUSIC. The strains of Marvin Gaye’s “Let’s Get It On” began playing through the surround sound speakers. Red lights thumped with the bass and other colored lights flashed and strobed to Marvin’s verses.

 

Dante unbelted his robe and allowed it to fall to the floor. He reached over and took the two Rieslings from the table. Ella reached out for one of the glasses and Dante lifted it just out of her reach. “Not so fast,” he said.

 

Ella understood and slowly untied the belt of her robe. She lowered her shoulders and allowed the sleeves of the robe to flow freely down her arms and land in a silent pile on the floor. Dante handed her the Riesling and they both stepped into the shower.

 

After bathing one another in the shower and polishing off the Riesling, they moved on to the spa table. While Ella drank her next two glasses of wine, Dante playfully toyed with her body, slathering her with a thick coat of Kama Sutra Kalamata. He drank his portion of Pinot Grigio while intermittently tasting the Kama Sutra Kalamata from Ella’s body. Dante announced that the Pinot, the Kalamata, and Ella were the perfect combination.

 

During Ella’s turn she chose a Chardonnay with the

Suck-ulent Strawberry oil. After much teasing, Dante yanked the wine from Ella’s grasp, downed it, and decided to finish what they had started forty five long minutes earlier. The two ended up washing away the oil in the sudsy water of the wine barrel shaped, oversized soaking tub.

 

The night was much more in line with what Ella had envisioned for their trip. Unfortunately the next day turned out to be business as usual. Dante announced that he needed to make a few visits to clients and left with his briefcase.

 

Ella took the hotel shuttle the five miles into the heart of Mazara del Vallo. She decided she’d seen her share of cathedrals for one trip when she spotted a gorgeous stately building made of white cut limestone. The façade had three, fourteen foot arched doors on the front flanked by arched insets holding sculptures, one was the patron Saint of Music, Saint Cecilia, and the other, a statue of Antonio Vivaldi, the Italian Baroque composer of The Four Seasons. Profiles of other famous Italian composers were carved in coin like recesses on each side of the arched doorways. Five large curved windows were placed along the entire length of the second story. These windows supported a third level of heavy carved mouldings and arches with cherub wing insets surrounding a crest and crown. TEATRO GIRABALDI was deeply set in the limestone on the center top of the building.

 

Ella wondered if the historic theater was still in use. She wandered over and looked in the framed glass display cases. The theatrical poster inside announced that the local opera company was performing a nine show run of Puccini’s La Boheme. The final showing was to be that very night. Ella opened the large heavy door to find herself standing in an ornate lobby. She quickly spied a glass window, walked up, and pressed the brass bell. A young, effeminate man came through a door and spoke in a speedy Italian that Ella couldn’t decipher. Now she knew for herself why Dante said Sicilians were known to other Italians as “Zips.” Since Ella with her less than novice Italian could barely understand someone who was stretching out each syllable for her, she knew it would be impossible to understand the fast speaking Sicilian and his unique dialect. She quickly held up two fingers and said, “Due, La Boheme per favore.” The young man pulled out two paper tickets and Ella handed him a universal currency, Mastercard.

 

When Ella returned to the Baglio Basile there was a note on the bed from Dante. “Going into town for meetings. Be back late. Don’t wait up. I took Old Finnegan. Don’t worry, It’s a surprise.”

 

Ella gave the note a puzzled look. “Why would he take Old Finnegan?” she thought. But then she suddenly realized her surprise for Dante, attending Le Boheme at the Girabaldi Theater, was ruined. Ella took a deep breath and reassured herself that the man she loved was a dedicated businessman and clearly this was a business trip first and foremost and a vacation second for him. She would still go and enjoy the show. After a swim in the hotel pool and having a Fuzzy Navel at the swim up bar, complete with a cascading waterfall behind the shelved liquors, Ella put on a black low plunged, backless dress. She placed her two tickets in a small sequined clutch and called for the shuttle.

 

Ella decided to stand outside of the Teatro Girabaldi until the very last minute in order to see what local Sicilians wore to the opera. There were many little black dresses, however, some were embellished with rhinestones, feathers, or sequins. Some women wore more daring colors like chartreuse, yellow, and royal blue. But the darling color of the night was red. BeBe had always told Ella, “Ask a man his favorite color and he’ll always say blue, but let a woman in red walk in the room and that’s immediately where their eyes go.”

 

One particularly beautiful, raven haired Sicilian woman was wearing a full lace, floor length, red dress. It had a strapless, sweetheart neckline showing off a perfect décolletage, and was only lined down to mini skirt length. The beaded lace overlay was sheer and looked extraordinary as the lights from the façade of the theater peaked through as she walked around greeting friends while waiting to enter the show.

 

Ella was one of the last patrons to her seat after spending twenty minutes prior to the performance people watching. The director’s curtain speech was lost on Ella as it was in the almost untranslatable Sicilian dialect. It didn’t matter to Ella. She knew to silence her cell phone and refrain from taking photos or video. BeBe had dragged her to enough Broadway shows, community theaters, operas, and symphonies that she knew the drill.

 

During the performance, Ella sat forward in her seat when Musetta began to sing her aria “Quanda M’en Vo” (When I Walk Alone). Musetta sang of how when she walked alone people took notice of her and it made her feel pretty, but nevertheless her lover was retreating from her. There was confusion and anguish in her song. Ella thought about how alone she’d felt for the last several years, although people thought she was attractive and probably had the tiger by the tale in this life. Now was no exception. In over a week spent in Europe, she felt as if she’d barely seen Dante. She’d only taken two weeks off so she knew their stay would soon be coming to an end.

 

When Ella awoke the next morning, Dante was by her side. Old Finnegan was sitting on top of the luggage stool with a large white bow on top. The leather had been cleaned and oiled and the patina was brighter than before. “How thoughtful,” she whispered, nuzzling herself into Dante’s chest. Unfortunately when Dante woke up he took a quick shower, put on a suit, and announced that he had a day full of appointments with investors from his mother’s side of the family. “I would take you, but you’ll be bored stiff with all the talk of stocks, bonds, and mutual funds. Besides, the conversations will be in Italian.” He then grimaced apologetically.

 

Ella strained a smile and said, “I know you’re busy. I understand.”

 

“Oh, and by the way, we’re heading out tonight so make sure you’re packed.”

 

“Where are we headed?” asked Ella.

 

“It’s a surprise,” replied Dante.

 

Ella was considering how full of surprises Dante seemed lately, the spur of the moment trip to Europe, getting Old Finnegan refurbished for her, and now this. She’d never really asked about or discussed the itinerary for the trip but she thought maybe she would start. It might be nice to have more than a moment’s notice when they were to depart a city.

 

“You can’t tell me where we’re going?” quizzed Ella.

 

“That’s right. I want to surprise my girlfriend. Is there something wrong with that?” Dante smiled at Ella knowing she couldn’t really argue with this defense.

 

“Not a thing,” Ella responded. Then she gave Dante a long, passionate kiss.

 

“That’s more like it,” Dante said rubbing his nose to Ella’s playfully.

 

“Not so fast Mister. For all I know you could be catching up with a different old girlfriend every day. I want to go with you today.”

 

Dante gave Ella a disappointed look. “Ella, you know that’s ridiculous. If that were true, I wouldn’t have invited you and dragged you and Old Finnegan around with me. I’d be footloose and fancy-free out partying every night in hip Italian nightclubs, and dancing with supermodels from Milan. Dante looked at the ceiling and took a long pause. “Now wait a minute. Why DID I bring you along?”

 

Ella reached over, snatched a box of tissues from the nightstand, and chucked it at Dante.

 

“No! Not tissue ammo!” He turned the box to the side and read, “Silk touch tissues. If you didn’t love me so much you would have chosen the porcelain lamp to throw.”

 

Ella giggled. She loved Dante’s quick wit and although she didn’t really think Dante was up to no good, she wanted to accompany him to his meetings that day. “I want to go anyway and see my handsome businessman in action.”

 

“Suit yourself,” Dante said defeated, “but you’re going to be bored.”

 

He was correct. Ella and Dante went to two places that day, Dante’s cousin Angelo’s and Giacomo’s Pizzeria. At both places Dante took a seat on one side of the table. His clients included several men and a few older couples. Dante would turn to a specific page on his ledger and point out a few numbers. Everyone would nod their heads and after a speedy exchange in Italian for a few minutes, the clients would shake Dante’s hand and leave. Dante would then take out another ledger and do accounting or some type of arithmetic.

 

That afternoon the two headed back to the Baglio Basile to finish packing and head out. “Please tell me where we’re going,” pleaded Ella.

 

“I told you it was a surprise,” Dante replied.

 

Ella knew it was futile to try to pry the information from Dante. Once in New Orleans he’d surprised her with an overnight riverboat cruise and no amount of Ella’s begging or sexual bargaining chips could make Dante reveal the secret.

 

That night they took a short drive to Trapani and caught a ferry. Ella and Dante stretched out on the deck of the top floor under a blanket, and after making love floating on the Mediterranean under the stars, they slept for a large part of the nine hour sailing to Tunisia. Ella awoke to see the rocky coastline of Tunisia in the distance. The landscape was filled with clusters of whitewashed homes.

 

As the ferry approached the port, Ella could see a rainbow lining the large stone walls of the port formed by rows of colorful fishing boats. Ella had never seen such an exotic locale. After disembarking from the ferry, Dante and Ella walked through the old town section of Hammamet, an area established during the 1400’s, a concept that fascinated Ella.

 

Having decided to leave the rental car parked at the ferry dock in Trapani, Dante made a quick phone call while Ella ordered tiny cups of hot tea from a street vendor. A few minutes later a man clothed in loose white linen approached Dante and shook his hand. Dante introduced him as his friend, Ahmed Mebazaa. Ella handed Old Finnegan to Dante and he placed it in the trunk of Ahmed’s white Mercedes.

BOOK: Bound for the Outer Banks
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