Free Stranger by N.M. Catalano Page B

My father is Greek and my mother Italian.  They owned a Greek diner in upstate New York while I was growing up.  That was my first job, of course, and I hated it.  They worked all the time and it killed me to see how much it took from them.  After I graduated high school I went to college in the city at NYU and studied business.  I loved Washington Square Park.  All the talented people there on the weekends was amazing.”
    I laugh.  “I know.  I went to FIT, (Fashion Institute of Technology), and lived on West 4 th Street next to the Pink Pussycat Boutique.  I used to hang out there all the time.”
    “You’re kidding me?”
    “Totally serious.”
    “And was it the park or that adult store you hung out at all the time, Elizabeth?”  His tone has changed to a sultry, dark, challenging lick across my skin
    “The park,” my body reacts to his voice more than his words.
    “Did you shop there?” 
    “No, I was too young.”
    “Would you now?”  His eyes take on a hint of something, what, I don’t know, a challenge maybe.
    I think about the question just a moment visualizing myself blindfolded with Marco using toys on me.
    “Yes.”
    A seductive smile lifts his lips.  And he hesitates as if he’s thinking about my answer.
    “And are you a fashion designer?”  His demeanor shifts very slightly, hardly noticeable but I feel it more than I see it.
    I laugh.  “No.  I worked for an accessories designer when I lived in the city. Back then I thought I wanted to be in that world.  But now I think it’s haughty and shallow.”
    “Yeah, I agree with you.  Don’t hate me for what I’m about to tell you but while I was at NYU someone approached me in Washington Square Park and asked me if I wanted to do some modeling so I took him up on it.  I was a kid and thought, ‘Partying, beautiful women, it’s a man’s dream’.  It paid ok but it didn’t satisfy me.  I finished school then moved to Florida and got into what I’m doing now. I...........”
    I raise my finger to his lips, shushing him.
    “Don’t.  Let’s just be the two people that we are in this moment.”  I move in closer, our faces just inches from the other.
    He looks searchingly into my eyes and I know he’s trying to figure out what I mean by that.
    “I think that you are the woman of mystery, Ms..............?”
    I can’t help but smile at his insinuation.
    “DiStefano.  My name is Elizabeth DiStefano.”
    A big grin curves his luscious lips.
    “My Italian beauty.”  His mouth comes down on mine consuming it as his hand wraps around the back of my neck holding me close.  We kiss as if we were alone, not caring that we’re in a room full of people because right now it’s just us.
    There is a shuffling noise that pulls us out of our intimate bubble and we look up to find the waitress standing a foot or so from the table blushing a deep scarlet unable to look us in the face and Marco begins to chuckle. I squeeze his thigh under the table to scold him.
    “Um, would you care for dessert, sir?”  He looks at me with one brow up questioningly.
    “I have cookies and cream ice cream at home.”  I smile suggestively at him.
    His eyes deepen at the suggestion as a grin lifts his lips and he says, “My favorite.  Just the check please.”
    It just got really hot in here.
    The walk back to my apartment is perfect, the stars fill the clear night sky and I can hear owls hooting in the distance as horse drawn black and white carriages stroll past giving a hint of slower times.  We hold each other close, his arm tight around my shoulder, mine around his waist as he’s telling me how much he likes the charm of Wilmington.  He says he was surprised to find the growth of the area and how it still is able to retain its warmth.  I tell him the little bit that I know about the area and what it is that I love here.  I love that it has so much to offer in an intimate way, I love that people still talk to each other and