The wine! The music! The fashion! The food! The sights!
And the men.
Mercedes Jones thought she understood what she was getting into when she and her friends signed up for the Study Abroad program, but she was in no way prepared for the magic that was Venice. It was just one of many stops in many European countries - they had only spent a day and a night there – barely even that. She was already on a train, watching the city come alive in its lights and its people as she sent her farewells to it. She would miss it.
She smiled into her raised wineglass at the thought of missing the city. Maybe a decade later, she would be sitting in a dining car on a train similar to this or in a small café sipping on a glass of red and thinking back fondly on her youthful travels.
But she was much too young to think of it now, she decided. Now, she would be young. She would do new things. She would experience. She had a passport and a smile – she could do anything. That thought only widened her smile and as she lifted her head, she locked eyes with a young man caught – stunned practically – by her dazzling grin.
Her friend Tina had long since left to go back to their shared cabin, taking their absently sketched fashion designs with her. Mercedes had opted to stay where she was, munching on breadsticks and, of course, sipping wine and the handsome young gentleman who couldn't keep his eyes off of her was making her more grateful for that decision by the minute.
His hair was blond and his smile was shy; the rounded apples of his cheeks were flushed a ruddy color and the lips he bit nervously were redder than even that.
She downed the rest of her wine, a few deliberate sips that he watched carefully, then she stood and walked the span of the three tables that separated her from him. "Hi."
He looked at her as if she had flown to him, as if surprised that he couldn't see her wings. "Hello."
"May I sit with you?" she asked, straightening nonexistent wrinkles from the sides of her skirt and smiling inwardly at the way his eyes followed her hands. She loved her body – all of its generous curves – and she loved that he obviously loved it as well. His eyes were green, pale and like sage, and they were practically eating her up. She felt a pleasurable shiver go down her spine when he smiled and invited her to take the seat beside him.
"What's your name?" he asked. His voice was amazing, steady and deep. Sexy and controlled, it poured over her like red wine.
"I'm Mercedes. What's your name?"
"Sam."
She and Sam spoke for… it had to be close to an hour. They spoke about their studies since they were both obviously American students – hers was Fashion Design, his was Graphic Design – and somehow that conversation morphed into one about Venice's architecture and that conversation became one about wine and that conversation became a kiss, soft and perfect.
"You taste sweet," he whispered against her lips before he pulled away from her slowly. His hand was on her bare thigh, pale against her brown skin, stroking it like it was delicate silk.
"I didn't have any dessert," she told him as she watched his fingers trace circles and swirls on her leg. "I could go for some chocolate, though."
"Vorrei assaggiare il cioccolato."
He leaned forward to press his nose against her cheek, to inhale her softly, to mingle his peppermint breath with hers and she smiled. "What does that mean?"
"I want you."
"Okay."
His cabin was in a different car than hers and when he opened the door, the sight of a surprised Asian man around their age greeted them. "Hey man," Sam said. "I think there's a cute waitress in the dining car that you might like to meet."
The man sent a slick smile to his friend when he spotted Mercedes peeking into the small space and he nodded, standing and gathering a few things before fist-bumping his buddy and disappearing down the long, narrow hallway.
"Good friend," she chuckled as Sam ushered her into the room and shut the door behind himself.
"Great friend. Best friend," he corrected while winding his arms around her middle and bringing her close. He kissed her slowly, one hand cupping her jaw as if it was made of sensitive crystal, the other tracing down her body as if delicately polishing priceless gold. She was the first to reach for clothes, the first to pull and tug and yank at them while standing in the middle of that little cabin. Her actions nearly toppled them over – they were on a moving train after all – but he steadied them and lowered them onto a small cot.
"You're so beautiful," was pressed hotly into her skin many times that long night. Pressed between kisses and licks and exploring little nips.
"You're so beautiful," she would whisper back, in between trembles and shudders, heavy sighs and labored breaths. "You're so beautiful, Sam."
Nine Years Later
Mercedes could not for the life of her think of a good reason why she was thinking of her one night with that amazing man… That was a lie. She could think of many reasons; she had, after all, screamed them to the ceiling that night. She smiled wickedly at her fond memories of lovemaking and sipped at her coffee.
She had always loved Paris in the fall, she had always loved this tiny café she sat in ever since the first time she had come here – on her college trip abroad. She smiled as more fond memories flitted across her mind and she absently flipped through a fashion magazine, paying little to no attention to the spread she was supposed to be critiquing for work.
She froze when a sudden shiver went down her spine, as if she was being watched. Just as she was going to turn to find the eyes that were to blame, a dark blue blazer was wrapped around her shoulders and a cheek was pressed to hers. Her eyes closed in pleasure at the familiarity of the man standing behind her.
And the scent of peppermint wafted through the air, carried by the words, "Je tiens à le goûter le chocolat."
Author's Note: According to Google Translate, both those things Sam said meant, "I would like to taste your chocolate" in Italian and French, respectively. I honestly don't know, but I'll just trust Google for now. -DMH