His Eyes Adored Her

The man and woman at the corner table in the hotel dining room were clearly arguing. The man's swarthy face showed some exasperation as he waved a finger in the air. The woman, with tawny, shoulder length hair, and slender from Dan's rear view, pointed an occasional finger as she responded. They were clearly talking in low tones since they attracted no attention from nearer tables.

Dan Tiernan turned away, not interested in the troubles of others. He was still trying to decide whether this two week break in Riva, Lake Garda, had been such a good idea. It had been his elder sister, Anna, who had talked him into it. Practically forced him into it, having bought the flight, and booked a single room in the hotel.

"You need a break. It's been two years now, Dan," she'd said. "You can't go on grieving forever. Carol wouldn't have wished that on you." Three years his senior, his sister had attempted an encouraging smile, as she added, "You might get an idea for your next novel."

The very idea of Carol's wishes had stung him. He missed her so much. Ever since that awful day he had found it impossible to talk about her or the accident, even to those closest to him. For months afterwards his mind had been full of how cruel life could be. Married for six exciting years, and talking about putting their mutual passion for each other to more than just pleasure, by starting a family, all of that had suddenly been smashed away.

Although Anna was not aware of it, Dan had, over recent months, tried to shake himself out of his sorrowful state. On separate occasions, two friends of Carol's, both divorcees, had offered to ease, in the first lady's case, 'his pain', and in the second, 'his natural frustrations.' In both cases there had been a vague agreement that the occasion was only to be a one off, but, Dan sensed that his being a rising author might have been high in their sympathetic offers.

Dan was well aware that his libido was still operating, having woken up with a rigid erection more than once. Each of those occasions had left him feeling sad, very lonely, and needing a cold shower. So any attempt to tackle the problem had some appeal after fifteen months or so.

The first lady, whose name was Louise, invited him for a coffee one Saturday afternoon. After only a few minutes of idle chat she was sitting beside him, then she was touching his arm. Soon they were kissing, and Dan was aware of her rather lumpy figure under her dress. Despite that, within the half hour, Louise, having made her declaration of easing his pain, lay naked beside him on her bed.

Naked, she was singularly loose fleshed and unattractive, and Dan played desultory homage to her hefty, but sagging breasts, knowing for sure that his penis was not going to react in any way. But that was mainly because she had mentioned Carol too many times. He left the lady with his profound apologies.

His second encounter, Fran, a dark haired lady, who Dan had always found most attractive, with her slim figure, wide eyes and full generous mouth. Just how generous he was to find out on the day after his thirty second birthday, when she arrived at his front door, bearing a bottle of malt whiskey as a gift. Very grateful, Dan had immediately opened the bottle and they'd sipped at a tot each, talked, during which Fran got around to his natural frustrations.

Within seconds they were kissing, and she was twisting her body to urge his hand to cover her breast. When bed became the obvious next step, Dan was careful to avoid the main bedroom, Carol's domain, and soon they were naked together on the bed in the second bedroom. Dan found some pleasure in fondling Fran's hand-sized breasts, and in letting his fingers discover the moistness between her thighs, almost desperately keeping his mind away from the last time he had been this far with a woman.

Just a little anxious at how his own body might react he was relieved to find that under the ministrations of Fran's fingers, and that generous mouth as it played over and around his penis, his erection was very quickly up to near full intensity. But, as she released it from her mouth, and parted eager thighs to draw him into her, she murmured, "Carol was so lucky."

With his penis head touching at her labia, the collapse was almost instant, one second erect the next, flaccid. Dan was shocked, but maybe not as much as Fran, who gasped, moaned and gripped and tugged frantically at his limp member- nothing. As a kind of apology he was able to bring her to a secondary climax using his fingers. And then, once again, it was a case of 'Sorry and goodbye.'

Just yesterday, saying farewell at the airport, Anna had whispered, "You never know you might meet some gorgeous Italian lady." Dan could not imagine anything like that happening. But he was here, it was eight fifteen and the mountains, visible through the open window and beyond the tall palm trees, were bright in the morning sunshine, as he ate his breakfast. He had made no real plans about how he would spend his days, but with two weeks ahead of him he felt he had plenty of time.

Breakfast over he took a stroll down to the ferry terminal in the centre of town armed with his camera, and his notebook. The long low ferry afforded a pleasant ride over the waters of Lake Garda. He went ashore at the first stop, the village of Limone, which took its name from the once thriving lemon industry that had operated in the area. Dan saw many tourist- tempting artefacts relating to that industry. He took many photographs and decided he would text Anna to let her know that he was already more relaxed.

A small pizzeria took his eye, its brightly coloured frontage, and the smiling faces of the people sitting at tables outside, enjoying the sunshine tempted him into taking a couple of shots from different angles. Then, wanting to be part of it, he went and sat at one of the tables. In no time he was tucking into a delicious pizza, and downing a refreshingly cool beer.

Dan was reaching for his notebook when he noticed a couple sitting close together at a table on the other side of the patio. It was the man's swarthy face that he noticed. Was it the guy he'd seen in the dining room that morning? No, it couldn't be. The lady whose shoulder he was stroking, whose black hair he occasionally nuzzled, proved that. His companion in the hotel had hair the colour of a lioness.

As he watched, the pair stood, and the man in a red and white sports shirt, put his arm around her and they walked off down the street. In other circumstances Dan might have felt quite envious. The lady was quite a beauty in a low cut blouse that suggested warm curves underneath.

Dan made a few notes, about the general bustling streets around him. Then he continued his stroll, before heading back to the ferry. Back at the hotel he treated himself to a cool shower. The intense heat on his first day he found had enervated him, and naked, he lay back on the bed.

Carol, with that so beloved calculating smile she adopted at such teasing moments, was standing naked over him, as she stooped slightly to stroke at his scrotum. Then, one of her favourite little tricks, as his penis rose in response, she swooped her head down and enveloped it into her warm mouth.

Her long black hair flared over his groin. Dan, in ecstasy, reached for her delightfully pert breasts, but somehow they were out of reach. But they couldn't be. She was attending to him from the side, her mouth sucking with that so familiar keen gentility. Her breasts were close to hand, within touching distance surely. Yet every time he reached for them he failed to make contact.

He twisted his body in another vain attempt, and the mouth was gone from his erection. Carol was gone. He was alone, in a bed in his hotel room. The dream was over, yet, as he looked down he saw that his erection remained, although, even as he looked it became less tumescent, quickly collapsing. A tear ran down his cheek. Was this teasing all that remained for him?

Dressed in pale blue pants and a dark blue shirt he went down to the dining hall. As soon as he entered, he glanced towards the corner table. The couple were there as before, and great heavens, they were arguing again. Tawny hair tossed as the lady with her back to him responded to something her partner had said. Allowing himself a wry smile, Dan had little doubt what the argument was about. For the swarthy faced man was still wearing the red and white sports shirt he had been wearing for his amorous meeting with the dark haired lady.

Material for a story? Maybe, but, what the hell business was it of his? He had decided, since he was in Italy, to eat Italian that night. So, he enjoyed a vegetable minestrone soup, followed by a most succulent lasagne like he had never tasted before. A glass of fine Italian red washed it all down.

Just as he was finishing, the scraping of a chair drew his attention back to the corner table. Swarthy face was on his feet, looking angry, and, with an contemptuous gesture in the face of the woman, he strode out of the dining hall. One or two heads had turned this time, and some comments were exchanged at tables close to the corner. The tawny haired woman remained seated, straight backed in her pale blue summer dress.

Dan, knowing what he did, couldn't help feeling a little sorry for her, but then, he reminded himself that he knew nothing about the full circumstances. The woman reached into a small handbag, to produce a handkerchief or tissue which she dabbed at her face. Waiters were taking orders for dessert, and, when one approached the woman, her head shook. But she said something and the waiter nodded. Then, she very quickly gathered up her bag and stood to leave.

This was Dan's first frontal view of her, and his breath immediately caught up in his throat. A delicate featured face, with wide eyes and warm M shaped mouth, which he guessed hid a lovely smile. Her blue dress might have been painted on her as it clung to gently rising breasts, and the curves at waist and hip. Looking to neither left nor right, she walked determinedly out of the room.

Dan sat there utterly stunned by the vision he had just observed. He had started breathing again, but not easily. No woman had struck him so forcefully since--since—Yes, since then. God, there had even been a twitching in his groin, and, guiltily, he was thinking that was disloyal to Carol. The feeling was far removed from his two casual attempts at release earlier in the year. This unfamiliar sensation was the result of looking at one particular woman, and Dan found himself wanting to know her better.

As he rose to leave the dining room, his mind was in a quandary. If she was married, there was little he could do but admire her from afar. But if what he had so far witnessed was just a lovers' tiff, then there could be a way in. The reactions she had aroused in him just could not be ignored.

Passing through to the main hallway, a deep voice behind him guffawed, "How about that then?"

Turning, he saw a rotund man possibly in his fifties, with just a rim of grey hair around an otherwise bald head. He was grinning delightedly.

"Pardon me?" Dan said, annoyed by the disruption to his thoughts.

"That little domestic scene back there. Not often you see that on holiday."

Dan didn't say it, but thought that you were more than likely to see it on holiday, if it wasn't going well. "I don't even know if they're married," Dan said, trying to put on a couldn't care less attitude, but nevertheless testing for information. What he heard next did not please him at all.

"Oh, they're married, all right. I had a long talk with the guy on the coach from the airport. Name's Bodecker, been married three years, and he's in the same business as me."

"Oh?" Was all Dan could manage while hiding his disappointment.

"Both in financial consulting, we had a lot to talk about," his informant said, looking more closely at Dan. "What's your line?"

Dan hated this kind of probing conversation. "I write."

"Journalist?"

"Novelist."

The man looked more closely at Dan. "Yes, I thought--your face—you're Dan—Dan--"

Dan confirmed his full name, trying not to show his irritation.

"That's it. I knew. Hell, my wife's reading your book right now. Your picture's on the back cover. Would you wait there just a second. Must get her."

At the entrance to the dining hall the man stopped, turned back with a sly smile and said, "Mind, keep your hands off her. I've heard how you writers get to women."

When Dan met his inquisitor's wife he could have reassured him that he was perfectly safe. In her mid fifties, with peroxide hair, she ploughed towards him, her mighty bosom jutting in front of her, like a galleon in full sail.

He spent an uncomfortable ten minutes in their gushing company, and was only able to get away by promising to sign her copy of his book. Relieved he wandered out onto the terrace, seeking time to put his thoughts together, even though his hopes had already been shot. She was married.

Out on the terrace, several tables were occupied with pairs and groups sipping at their drinks and talking happily. And there she was, all alone, a cup of coffee in front of her. Dan was transfixed for a moment, unable to take his eyes off her. She was even more beautiful than his initial impression. High cheek bones, pert nose, little make up. For a brief second her eyes turned to him, and he looked hastily away, before moving quickly off the terrace, out into the gardens, which were richly green and cooling in the evening light.

Blue eyes, she had blue eyes. Why did that delight him? For one thing it meant that it could not be a resemblance to Carol that had attracted him. Apart from different hair colour, Carol's eyes had been green and her face had been much rounder. So the effect this lady had upon him was genuine, yet sadly, she was out of reach.

Out of reach she might have been, but she was certainly not out of mind. For the rest of the evening, Dan sat in a lakeside bar sipping at a beer, watching the world go by, and thinking about her, and the effect she had had on him. In bed that night he dreamed that Carol, fully clothed was standing near him, looking at him with eyes so vividly green. Just behind her, and slightly to one side another woman stood, less clear, but with such blue eyes that looked from Carol to him, and back again.

Dan awoke the following morning feeling strangely sad. However, an early breakfast was due prior to a coach trip into the Dolomites. The corner table was empty, which caused him some concern, but maybe she was booked on the same trip, and he'd be able to feast his eyes on her all day. But she wasn't on the trip.

Still she remained on his mind, as the coach wound its way up and around tortuous hairpin bends, and between impressive rock faces. A cable car took him and fellow tourists up to where snow still lingered in spite of the strong sunshine. The view was amazing, and below Dan could see the road they had travelled. It was as twisted and turned as his own mind at this time. Why had this woman, who he only knew as Mrs Bodecker, lodged so firmly inside his head? He had been captivated by her beauty, when, maybe, she could be a total bitch.

He could not allow himself to think that, and by the time he had returned to the hotel had resolved to take steps that might at least clarify the situation for him. The main evening dinner was over and Dan ate in a fairly quiet dining hall, not surprised that the corner table was deserted.

Afterwards, with a lightning storm forecast, he decided he'd spend some time in the comfortable lounge with a beer and his book. But first came that enquiry at reception.

The receptionist, a slim Italian who spoke impeccable English, frowned slightly as Dan made his request. "Can you tell me, is Mr Bodecker still in the hotel?"

Despite the frown the receptionist's response was almost immediate, without reference to any computer screen. "No, Mr Bodecker checked out yesterday. He left no forwarding address." A slight pause before he added, "Of course, Mrs Bodecker is still here. Is there-?"

"No, that will be fine. Thanks for your help."

"Prego, Mr Tiernan."

Uncertain of what that information told him, Dan went into the lounge just across from reception, ordered a beer and sat in one of the white leather easy chairs. Outside a rising wind was bending the low shrubs and palms. Book open, he just couldn't read. What further steps could he take now? Was it fair to assume that Mr and Mrs Bodecker were breaking up? Certainly he had seen evidence of Bodecker's two timing.

"Mr Tiernan, is it?"

The gentle female voice surprised him, and glancing up he was immediately on his feet. She was there, next to him, blue eyes fixed on him, mouth more taut than he had seen it. But she was close enough for him to catch the aroma of lavender from her.

Almost adolescent-like he stammered, "Y-yes, I'm Dan Tiernan."

He was a head taller than her and looking down he was treated to the slight cleavage that her orange dress afforded. She was delectable. Oh, for this moment to last. But how had this joyful meeting happened? It didn't take long for him to find out.

The eyes were now more like flints, as she said, "The receptionist tells me that you have been enquiring about my husband."

Dan was uncertain how he was going to respond to this. All he could admit was, "Yes, I did ask about him?"

"Why?" The question was blunt .

Dan didn't know what he could say. He had not expected his basic query to reach her ears. Oh, just tell her how you were overcome by her wonderful looks.

While he fumbled for an answer, she had another question, "Did you know my husband?"

Dan shook his head, "No, I only--"

"You're a writer, I understand?"

God, even slightly aggressive she looked delicious. "That is correct."

A pink tongue licked at her lips before they tightened and she said, "Yes, I thought so. Well, may I just ask you to mind your own goddam business?"

With a final glare at him, she turned and walked away.

"But-" That was all that Dan could manage. He had just encountered a lightning storm of his own. She went out of sight and Dan just knew that this was all set to be a frustrating two weeks. A lost love to grieve over, and now, the nearness of this lady to disturb him every day.

By the next morning, he had relaxed a little and made his mind up to make the most of his time in Riva. Then, of course, at breakfast, she was there at the corner table, only this time, she sat facing out into the dining room, and for a brief second their eyes met as Dan entered. Blue eyes, such blue eyes, and Dan, having already felt that catch in his breathing at the sight of her, cursed himself that his efforts not to be bothered by her presence were not working..

Eyes down, he ate an uncomfortable breakfast, and when he finally looked in her direction again, she wasn't there. Surely he was going crazy. Not able to look in her direction while she was there, yet, disappointed when she wasn't. It was time to take some fresh air, and once more try to clear his mind..

The sun was already moving higher, and as he walked along the lakeshore, he became very aware of the heat. Dan had never been a sun worshipper. Fair weather was fine, but he succumbed very easily to too much heat. So, after having a decent walk around the marina, which was a virtual forest of lofty yacht masts, he was glad to sit in the shade of the Shipping Bar, sipping at a refreshing cappuccino.

Young women walked by in various stages of undress, their physical assets well on display. Attractive, but nothing would shift his mind from that blue eyed image.

Finishing his coffee, he decided that the temptation of lazing by the hotel pool a definite attraction. Soon, in shorts which doubled as swimwear, with his book, his notebook, a towel, and sunglasses, he was settled on a lounger shaded by the high palms. Only two other loungers were being used.