Colby and Amanda go to Europe
At the beginning of July Amanda Sands, still eighteen for a few months yet, and her boyfriend Colby Hodge, nineteen, began their European holiday in Rome. On the morning of their arrival, the two soon-to-be Harvard sophomores checked into their snug, 3 star hotel, admired the velvety wall paper, showered in the beautifully designed Italian bathroom, made love on the narrow bed, which was in any case, wide enough for their two slim bodies and took a small nap, before going downstairs for a pasta lunch in the hotel dining room. Amanda exhorted Colby to fill up, remembering that Italian restaurants and cafes tended to close between two and six. Colby always listened to Amanda’s advice because she was good at thinking ahead, and made sure to buy chocolates. She pointed out that his foil wrapped truffles selections would quickly melt in the current heat, so they ate the rich bonbons immediately before proceeding to the Pantheon.
Lean and fair-haired, clad in khaki shorts and white shirts, the young tourists looked exactly like the fresh and pampered American children that they were. Her straight blonde hair was even a bit shorter than his, but she was in every other aspect so classically feminine that the pixie cut merely served to counterpoint her womanly charms. Colby, not normally overly protective of his beauty, nor often instantaneously jealous of other men, could not fail to notice that as soon as they hit the street, the men looked at Amanda with a vulgar lasciviousness that American men might reserve for lap dance clubs. Accordingly, he took Amanda’s hand and did not let it go anywhere they went, glowering at any man or boy who seemed disposed to grossly feast his eyes on the generous curves of his girlfriend’s high, full bosom and lush, round bottom.
At the Castle St. Angelo, the placards set about the monument, which detailed the violent history of that papal adjunct, chilled Amanda. One told them that the walkway upon which they trod had afforded the last glimpse of the outside world to the prisoners arriving at the castle, before they were led to the dungeons, from which they would never emerge. Inside the ancient pile, they passed by straw lined chambers where captives were chained, tortured, starved and left to die. Colby was less interested in the plight of these unfortunate enemies of Rome than in the good Italian beer served in the rooftop café.
Late in the afternoon, they visited the Vatican and immediately became enraptured by the pink, brown and gold veined marble floors and astonishing art. Amanda saw a figure in a painting that reminded her of RanXerox, a comic character in a graphic novel of the same name, created by the Italian artist Liberatori, in the 1980’s. Colby was familiar with the character and agreed that the figure in the Vatican mural must indeed have served as the model for the bullet-headed, girl-paddling, cyber punk.
While strolling the cobbled streets of Vatican City, they found a small tiled coffee bar with the best small cups of coffee with cream they had ever had.
As the afternoon waned, Amanda insisted upon doing some shoe shopping. The first shop they found was conveniently located next door to an internet café, in which Colby decided to wait. She was a fast shopper and appeared beside him in ten minutes, carrying a small bag containing one pair of burgundy leather, high heeled, ankle-bootie sandals. Finding a seat available beside her lover, Amanda fed a number of Euros into the computer station and logged into her email.
“This is strange,” Amanda said to Colby.
“What, babe?”
“I just got an email from my mother. She says Eddie pulled a Rodney Yee on her and that she’s leaving him.”
“Who’s Eddie?”
“My stepfather.”
“Who’s Ronnie Yee?”
“Rodney Yee. He’s a famous yoga instructor.”
“Hold on,” said Colby, finding a web browser and doing a search. “I’ve got his wiki page up. Okay, it’s says here the so-called “stud muffin” broke up his twenty five year marriage to pursue an affair with one of his pretty young disciples, whom he subsequently married.”
“Really? Rodney Yee did that?” Amanda replied in amazement. “Oh no, this is terrible!”
She sent her mother a quick reply and she and Colby walked out of the café.
“I like your mom. She’s super cute,” said Colby.
“I just can’t believe it. They’ve been together since I was two.”
The next day, Amanda and Colby toured the Coliseum and the Forum, where friendly cats beset them. It was all extremely interesting to Amanda, but she was distracted by the email her mother had sent her the previous day and felt a great sense of disquiet at the situation developing in San Francisco, where her mother had owned a psychic emporium and head shop, alongside her step father’s yoga studio and health food store, for nearly twenty years. How could Cassandra leave Eddie? Where would she go, what would she do?
The next email Amanda got from her mother answered these questions succinctly. It simply read: “Going to Random Point. I’ll see you there when you get back in August.”
The next day they were on the train to Florence, comfortable in first class. Staring out the window at the receding aqueducts of Rome, Amanda lamented her mother’s decision to return to Random Point with some anxiety.
“I don’t understand, babe,” Colby said, “I thought you liked hanging out with your mom.”
“I do, of course I do. But don’t you see, Hugo just married Laura. If my mother suddenly shows up it might …I don’t know, confuse them all.”
“You think she might be wanting to get back together with Hugo?” asked Colby, who knew and liked Amanda’s natural father, Hugo Sands.
“How could she not?” Amanda sighed.
“Your mom is no home wrecker,” Colby assured her.
“I know she wouldn’t mean to be. She knows how long and hard Hugo worked at courting Laura. But how can Hugo resist her once she’s in the village? She’s very magnetic, you know.”
“I know I think she’s cute as hell. She’s in the scene too, right?”
“She used to be, when she was with Hugo. And then afterwards, she dabbled in mistressing.”
“Well, if she ever wants to play with a younger man, I volunteer.”
“Colby, don’t be perverse, we’re talking about my mother.”
Colby saw she was more amused than angry at the suggestion and kissed her.
The men on the streets of Florence were worse than the Romans with regard to groping backsides, as Amanda discovered the instant she let go of Colby’s arm or wandered off even a few feet by herself. Simply walking to and from the nearest Cathedral to their hotel, she was provoked enough to at least try to slap one rude bottom clutcher across the face, but he dodged the blow and darted away into the crowd laughing. Meanwhile, Colby vigorously pushed another insolent pincher off the pavement and into the street, amazed that these aggressively lecherous idlers had nothing better to do with their time than annoy American girls cultured enough to choose to spend their tourist dollars here. The economist in him wondered at this ingratitude.
While repelled and frightened by the hungry eyed men in the streets, Amanda found herself anything but indifferent to the handsome and modestly blushing young waiter who brought them their pasta that night. She was looking every inch the junior model in the new high-heeled sandals she had bought in Rome and a clinging, sleeveless, burgundy jersey halter dress to match.
“What are you doing, Amanda?” Colby asked sharply, as soon as the waiter went away for the third time. “Do you want a good spanking when we get home?”
Amanda looked down, realizing she had been well and truly caught and murmured, “Sorry!”
“You know our agreement.”
“What agreement?” she asked, dipping some very good Italian bread in olive oil and nibbling at it.
“To play with other couples if we like them, but no one else!”
“I didn’t realize we had made an official agreement like that,” said Amanda.
“I mean, it’s been an unspoken agreement, since that night we spent in Boston with Pamela and Dru. Hasn’t it?”
“Well, yes and no,” mused Amanda. “After all, I did bring you in on that scene with Pamela and me where you got to play doctor with her.”
“That was generous of you,” Colby acknowledged. “But that doesn’t get you a free pass to have sex with another guy.”
“How about the fact that you recently had sex with that older woman in Boston?”
“That was long after you had sex with Pamela’s husband. Granted that happened before they were married and as part of a paid session, but you know you enjoyed it. And I’m pretty sure you also gave it up to that photographer who’s so hot for you, though you won’t admit it,” Colby shrewdly pronounced.
In all fairness, Amanda conceded that she had taken more liberties with her vows of love and fidelity to Colby than he had to her and taking his hand, earnestly pledged not to flirt with any other men or boys during their current sojourn in Europe.
“I’m still going to spank you later,” he threatened before completely downing a large glass of excellent red table wine.