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Trizia traveling
Aug. 9, late afternoon
Supplied fuel, flew to Naples. Trizia watched the bright red, between the deep blue. The sun was setting when she pulled the curtain trying to relax with their eyes closed. Sounds of passengers restless and squeaks and rattles of the nacelle wrapped. They came muffled by the pressure on the eardrums and the icy blasts of pressurized air to the ears and forehead. Mark, on the other hand do not let go of the rest, he preferred to recover the conversation. That tourist fueled his curiosity.
They flew in the Apennines at an altitude of seven thousand feet, when he turned back again with the right question. He coughed to attract his attention. "Excuse me; I did not understand his name." The lawyer pulled up. "Of course" She always knew what was said, to whom and when. "My name is not I told Trizia" "Trizia, what name is it?" "It was chosen by my parents," "I would not be inappropriate" She motioned to a smile. It was used for her, to having requests, for explanations. "My father wanted to call me Tiziana and my mother Patricia, neither wanted to give in" "Now I understand." He took a break. The index finger to his temple slowed the words. "She told me Stanzani, I ask because I knew of a certain George Stanzani, a lawyer estimated in Bologna" She took a benevolent smile, a twinkle in the eye. He discovered something that brought them closer. "George was my father; he founded the law firm in the early fifties; know him?" "Not personally, but still exercises the profession?" "It's dead, now I run the law firm" "I'm sorry, I mean, for his father."
Marco was not used to talk without holding in your hands whatever he happened to shoot. Now, clasped round the golden box of mints grains of sugar. He felt embarrassed. It was not his intention to talk about the sad event of the death of a parent. Yet his father was dead, but never talked about it. Many years had passed and then we always quarreled. To change the subject, he handed her the box. Trizia took a tablet with two fingers slender and graceful, from long nails, fresh manicure. The smell of menthol spread in the thin air. They stood in silence. Marco was beginning to believe that Mrs. Trizia was not unpleasant as it had seemed at first. It was also a beautiful woman. It was too thin and wore a discreet front.
He had never liked women too skinny. Sometimes happened to him one of his arms, but it seemed to tighten a skeleton. He suggested that she had not more than forty-four, was the right age for him, in his early fifties. Then what did it matter the age? Is the spirit of care! He had in mind to sell. He had been a boy, inside, maybe even too long. He had decided to build a family. Maybe now he starts to think about it. Trizia was the right woman for him? He had not noticed, though, if she wore a wedding ring. He had missed the chance to check, as he took the tablet mint. It was the case of control. It was the right time. "She's already been to the island?" He looked at the hand that held the arm. "It ' the first time, do you?". Trizia moves his eyebrows and held her chin between his thumb and forefinger of the left hand showing the back. "Yes, two years ago, I went to the mud, I suffered from back pain, I felt better afterwards."
"I want to relax and visit the island "She had read pamphlets and articles." Well, if you like, I could go with". Marco was proposed and meanwhile saw clearly. She wore no faith, but exhibited a wrist watch in yellow gold and white from the black dial. It was a high-end model, loaded with diamonds, very expensive. A version exclusive limited series. He knew him well, advertised on a recent issue of the magazine. The watches were his passion, he had several at home, especially chronographs, but that model had not yet seen him around. Trizia had put more at ease in the chair. "Look Marco, he noticed the lady who came on in a wheelchair?" She invites by look to the comment. "He told me to close my chair that she is traveling to spa treatments." It was lightning intermediary information. He said: "A financial planner is unemployed misinformed."
The speaker crackled. The commander warned to prepare for landing coming. Out loomed, before the last turn to the right, the unmistakable profile of Vesuvius. It was an unforgettable scene of intense beauty. The passengers craning their necks to the left to enjoy the show. At that moment the sun turned red oblique profile of the volcano. She thought of the explosive power of the magma retained inside those looking undulations of generous breasts opulent. Vesuvius had already caused devastation and death and was active, yet. Trizia said:"Have you seen that wonderful show?" He said:"Did you know that you can reach the mouth of the crater; is very interesting hike up there among the ashes of solidified lava and igneous rocks. "The young man sitting next to her, suddenly intervened, he did it with vehemence."You have not a beauty so. "Trizia and Marco exchanged a look.
They were silent. Felt the same way. At the airport, the escort was waiting for the tourists. She was a slender girl with wide hips and a spontaneous smile. With the blue uniform and wearing a handkerchief edged with yellow knotted around his neck, stood out among the crowd. Waved the folder with the logo agency and occasionally directed him upon himself. She called them and marked present. They gathered and recommended that it went around that time was short and the hydrofoil was leaving without them.
Marco knew then that his Trizia was staying at the same hotel. A passenger was missing. She made him repeat his name several times speaker. "If you do not find the lady, the hydrofoil part, is down for the day, a real problem," the rep spoke quickly, in a nasal voice, modulated, on the motion of the waves of the sea that separates the island from land.
"What has happened?" He asked, rolling his head, one hand stretched behind to spend a bit ' of air between the cascades of brown curls. They spent ten minutes waiting. The tourists were stirring. "Who is it?" They wondered, many looked at his face for the first time since the beginning of the journey. "Does anyone know her?" And they tried around. "No." "Here I am!" Felt between voices of people, including creaking of carts and rumble of the engines. "Is that the lady on crutches!" The lady was advancing with difficulty meanwhile said, "Here I am, and I apologize for the delay everyone." The hostess raised her voice and gathered tourists. So close to one another, it was hot. He walked away from them keeping an eye on. "Then let's go out, there is the bus, we reach the pier and climb on hydrofoil."
The tone of the corrugated voice was as mild slap of waves on the choppy sea. Raised it high over his head as the folder patch and turned the wide hips. The group of tourists as a flock of sheep without a goat walked to the exit. The sliding glass doors were opened to the command of the photocells and slightly stale air -conditioned indoor shower heads gave way to warm, moist impregnated with salt and kerosene. Struck tourists from below, in the legs, and pushed them to get on the bus.