It’s funny how you can travel across the big pond and suddenly everything around you changes. And I don’t mean just the environment, I mean the energy. Life itself feels slower here.
Once we stepped out of our private jet, we were hit with a nice warmed air, not hot, but definitely warmer than the chill of New York in the spring. As we venture towards our hotel, I take notice of all of my senses. Everything smells different. The pollution of New York is so pungent you almost forget how horrible it is compared to the pleasant smell of the salt water from the canals close by. The peaceful sounds of the hustle and bustle of Venice is vastly different from home. It’s stunning here, peaceful, beautiful in a historical type of way. I simply love it.
Arriving at our plush hotel, the suite Toren has picked out for us is beyond anything I could imagine. It’s elegant, sophisticated, and screams timeless wonder. It’s located directly near the Piazza di San Marco with Venetian masterpieces surrounding us. It’s an artist’s dream.
But Toren knew that. He knew exactly what he was doing when he booked us here. Luxury, style, and effortless beauty...nothing but the best for his woman. The only thing that’s missing is him and his big cock.
It’s been, what, ten hours? Not even. I miss him so much and have never wanted to have sex with him more. I’m ridiculous. But, no...I have this crazy wig wearing diva next to me, reminding me of how much sex I won’t be having anytime soon as he goes into detail about all the ass he’s about to wrangle.
We settle in and pop open a bottle of champagne that was given to us for our stay. Adrien is literally wearing sun glasses everywhere, even inside, acting as if he is the new Lady Gaga arriving for the Venice Film Festival. I didn’t expect any less.
“To double ended dildos!” he toasts me and I choke as I attempt to swallow my drink.
“You seriously plan on using that? You’re lucky we flew private, TSA would’ve had a snack with that.”
“Girl, this thang right here...” he pulls out a massive purple sparkly double ended dildo tucked in his suitcase, “...this thang is about to get use!”
He holds it like it’s a holy relic that leads us to the history of our entire civilization.
“Ugh, what the hell do you do with it? Butt bump? Why not just do anal? You could make a train. An anal train, like the human centipede. I’m sure there’s some ass to mouth happening.”
“You are making me physically ill.” he contorts his face in horror.
I laugh at his disgust. “I just don’t see the benefit of this artifact.”
I hold it, looking sideways at it before he snatches it out of my hand.
“Trust me, there are benefits.”
Rolling my eyes at his lunacy, we shift conversation over to the event happening tomorrow. There’s a meeting I have today with Sergio to set up my art pieces. After that, I have a few interviews with a photo shoot to follow. Basically, I need my bestie to shut up about dildos and help me in getting photo-ready.
After we decide on a fun, flirty, off the shoulder maroon ruffled dress that showcases my long legs. Adrien cinches my waist with a stylish belt and I throw on my pair of combat boots to match. He shakes his head at my decision, but fuck him. This is me. I like my combat boots. He styles my hair in large loose curls and does a simple makeup look that makes me feel like myself, only better. He’s amazing at what he does.
“So I’ll walk over with you to the Art and Architecture building in hopes to get a glimpse of this Sergio creature, then I’ll be meeting some friends for a tour, then lunch, and I’ll plan to meet back up with you before we hit the interviews and photo shoot. Sound good?”
“Are you nervous?” he asks, as we walk past a tiny adorable bistro. “I mean, you already bagged the hottest bachelor in NYC, who’s to say you can’t tempt the Italian version with your wits and charm?”
“Adrien, no. I’m not nervous, nor am I even thinking about Sergio in that regard.” I attempt to end the conversation there.
“Well good, leave him be. Maybe I can turn him while we’re here.”
“Good luck!” I snorted, “I’m sure he has his work cut out for him over here, gorgeous women fawning all over him, he don’t need no Adrien ass.” I tease, nudging him with my elbow.
“We’ll see about that.” he blinks wildly while touching his chin to his shoulder flirtatiously.
Typical Adrien, thinks he can turn the world into his playground, changing all the boys over with his alluring and charming charisma and sarcasm.
I pull out my cellphone as we’re walking and attempt to call Toren. With the time change, we are six hours ahead of New York, making it around 3:00 p.m. there right now. He picks up on the first ring, making me smile.
“I miss you.” he spits out immediately.
I chuckle at his cuteness. “I miss you. I need my Tor.”
“I’m sorry, I couldn’t hear you. Did you say you need your Thor? Because he definitely needs you too.”
“Tor! Stop, I’m already having a hard enough time as it is. Don’t say his name.”
Adrien wrinkles his nose at our conversation and I shoot him a quick glare.
“How are you? I’m assuming you’re heading to your meeting to prepare for the show?”
“I am. Yes the flight was amazing and I somehow was able to sleep through the time change just fine. Feeling refreshed and ready to kick ass.”
“That’s my girl.” he says proudly in his raspy voice.
Ugh, I just want to make him come. His voice, his excitement for me, it only makes me want to please him the way he pleases me. I’m so fucking weird.
“Hey T!” Adrien screams into the receiver causing me to back away.
“Hey, tell Adrien to keep the weapon of ass destruction at bay. I’ve heard there are plenty of incurable STDs in Venice.”
Adrien’s eyes widen in panic while Toren laughs into the phone.
“Let me guess, I’ve rendered him speechless?” he asks, his tone humorous.
“Safe sex is the best sex!” Adrien screams, making the couple walking past us scowl in disapproval.
Those damn out of control Americans, here to corrupt our way of living. I can literally hear their thoughts.
“Safe sex is definitely not the best sex, raw sex with my baby is.” Toren rebuttals with a sexy tone into my ear.
That voice has a direct line to my vagina, timezone or no timezone, here or across the globe.
“Oh, don’t do this to me.” I moan in pain, the depravity of needing something I can’t have at the moment.
He laughs into my ear. “Sorry, I’m just aching for you. But have fun today, kill it over there, and call me later, alright? Maybe we can facetime?”
Oh he has no idea what’s to come.
I agree as we exchange I love you’s to Adrien’s dismay, as we hang up and continue walking, approaching our destination.
I walk into the building alone, in awe of the beauty of everything surrounding me. There are light installations, beautiful sculptures, and amazing works of art on select walls already. Moving through the lined corridor I float from section to section, in complete awe of the phenomenal work around me. I’m in a heaven that was created just for me.
I walk past a column, turning to face a brick wall with some familiar pieces on it. It’s my work, hanging above me, six individual pieces that were chosen by Sergio himself from the collection better known to me as Neon Vaginas. Emerson was kind enough to send the pieces to him that he admired most to be put here on display in front of half a million people. Not only that, but the rest of the world, when they publish the chosen artists.
I stand there, taking it all in, feeling an overwhelming sense of accomplishment and happiness. This is what I’ve always wanted, but it’s even better now. I never thought I’d say it, but I’m proud to be the face of my work. I’m proud of who I’ve become, and I couldn’t have done it without that dorky, meathead back home.
I remember at one of my first art shows when I painted an abstract piece of Toren’s penis, unbeknownst to him. That moment when I was gazing at it and he came up behind me, starting up a conversation about how SCARS had to be a man...
“No man could ever capture the elegance of the female genitalia like you have. Exquisite”
The sound of a deep, accented voice fills my ear, making me suck in a breath in surprise, pulling me out of my daydream.
I turn my head to see the man himself behind me. Sergio Di Piazza. In the flesh. Talking to me about genitalia.
He’s stunning. Looks to be a work of art himself, with his deep brown, captivating eyes, strong jaw, and darker than sin hair. He’s wearing a form fitting navy blue suit that does wonders for his tall frame. It makes sense why he’s so sought after, why he was voted sexiest man of the year a few years back. The man is a vision. Just not the kind for my eyes.
“Scarlett Morrison Smith, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you.” He holds out his hand so I give him mine as he kisses the back of it.“It’s a pleasure to meet you as well.” I blush with a tight-lipped grin. Hey, I still have a pulse. Don’t hate.
“Come, let me show you around.” He smiles kindly, popping his elbow out for me to slip my arm through. He smells like Johnny Depp probably would, a mix of sandalwood, jasmine, and a hint of patchouli. It’s the kind of masculine scent that really gets those pheromones cooking.
We walk and talk as he guides me through all the exhibits, explaining the history, discussing the modern, and reveling in the beauty. His voice is like warmed caramel, soothing and delightful, and the passion in which he speaks is magnetic. I’m intoxicated by the magic of it all.
He tells me about his upbringing, about living in Italy, about his family, his education and the reasons for his passions while showing me his work. He’s an exquisite painter but dabbles more in realism than my abstract art form. By the end of the tour he brings me back to the front where Adrien dropped me off. I can’t help but wonder if everyone gets the personal Sergio informative tour or if it’s just because I look like a duck out of water.
“I know you have interviews and the photo shoot is set for later, but if you’re interested, a few of us will be getting together for a meal at one of the premier restaurants. I’d love it if you’d join us.” He cocks his head to the side with a sexy half grin, his eyes twinkling. “You must sample authentic Italian cuisine while you’re here.”
Old Scarlett would’ve had him sampling her American cuisine between the first and second art exhibit. But the new Scarlett can only think about one thing; Toren ordering for us from his favorite Italian place in New York, the restaurant he claims is authentic, and to me, it’s better than anything Italy has to offer, simply because of him.
“I would love to, but I’m here with my friend. Would he be able to join us as well?” I ask.
“Of course. It would be wonderful to have you two.” he smiles his beautiful smile, the one that I’m sure melts lustful women everywhere.
Anyone else would be elated at the moment, anyone else would love to be on the other side of that magnificent smile, those sparkling eyes, that invitation. And yet, all I can think about is the show after dinner.
The solo performance I have planned for my man.