Holiday Date Read online

  Holiday Date

  Book 2 of the Blind Date series

  Debbie Ioanna

  Copyright © 2020 Debbie Ioanna

  All rights reserved

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  ISBN-13: 9781234567890

  ISBN-10: 1477123456

  Cover design by: Alex Ioanna

  For my cat Cleo, who has never been acknowledged, even though she was the inspiration for our loveable Bing :) I love you, kitty. Sorry about bringing a baby into the house… I know you hate small people.

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  12

  13

  14

  15

  16

  17

  18

  19

  20

  21

  22

  23

  24

  25

  26

  27

  28

  29

  30

  31

  Zante 2010

  Indie Author and blogger, Debbie Ioanna, brings you the second instalment of the ‘Blind Date’ series.

  ‘Blind Date’ is available to buy on Amazon.

  Also by the author

  Abberton House

  The Runaway Girl

  1

  My legs straddled Zack’s naked body as he was handcuffed to my bed, totally at my mercy. The cuffs dug into his wrists as he struggled between pain and pleasure.

  “Do you want me to stop?” I asked over his cries of passion as I kissed his chest, working my way down his body. His body trembling under mine.

  “No,” Zack cried out. “Oh, baby, no, keep doing that.”

  As I finally gave into his body’s demands, I climbed on top of him and we began to move together, quickly. The headboard banged against the wall, making the bed vibrate beneath us.

  “Jenny...” He called out, loudly.

  “Yeah,” I said, feeling my orgasm about to rip through me as he said my name. “Oh, yeah.”

  The room seemed to shake as the bed bounced harder and harder.

  “Jenny!” He said louder, but less like he was enjoying himself.

  “Yeah?” I asked.

  “Jenny!” He shouted, with a more feminine voice…

  “Jenny!?” Sarah’s voice bellowed at me. “For god’s sake, will you wake up? The plane has landed.”

  Feeling flushed, I surveyed my surroundings. Other passengers were crowding the aisles getting their coats and bags from the overhead storage as the stewardesses looked on in frustration. People were always in a rush once the plane landed to grab their things, but I never could understand why. It’s not like our luggage is going to be waiting for us as soon as we exit. I can guarantee it’ll be another hour before we leave the airport.

  “How long was I snoozing?” I asked Sarah, rubbing my eyes and hoping I wasn’t making sex noises in my sleep.

  “I’m not sure, a while. How can you even sleep on a plane? It’s so uncomfortable.” She rubbed her neck. “And how on earth did you manage to sleep through a plane landing? That’s just bizarre.”

  “Just naturally gifted at being able to sleep anywhere,” I laughed, stretching out my arms. I didn’t want to tell her I was exhausted because Zack and I had been up all the night before having wild sex to prepare for not seeing each other for nearly a whole week. We had not been apart for this long in the nine months we’d been together. “I can’t wait to get up and stretch my legs. Three hours is a long time to sit still. I’m bursting for a wee.”

  “You could have just used the airplane loos you know. You didn’t need to hold it in.”

  “I don’t use airplane loos.” I said, thinking back to the first time I attempted it. I had stared into the toilet, fearing I would be sucked out of the plane and plunge six miles to my death. Absolute nonsense of course, that wouldn’t happen, but I did chicken out in the end. Instead, I just used some tissue to blow my nose and chucked it in the bowl, but when I flushed, I swear I felt a puff of air hit my face. Fears confirmed. I would have been sucked out of the toilet. So, from then on, no matter how much I needed it, I would never use an airplane toilet, nope.

  We were finally allowed to leave the plane, so we followed the crowd through the airport, through the passport checks and then to pick up our luggage. Or rather, stand around for twenty-five minutes for the conveyor belt to be switched on, and then a further ten minutes for ours to appear. Once suitcases were collected, and stress levels reduced, we were finally able to start our girly holiday.

  2

  If it were possible to eat a smell, then I would be munching on the air right now. One nostril was overdosing on freshly ground coffee and the other was having a foodgasm from freshly cooked pizza dough. I had officially reached my own version of heaven.

  Sarah and I had just arrived at our hotel after a somewhat terrifying taxi ride from the airport. We should have just taken the train like every other well-educated tourist, but we thought it would be much more luxurious to have our own chariot. There were to be no expenses spared on this holiday. Seeing as though this June weekend should have been Sarah’s wedding to Max The Wanker, we decided to splash out over the next few days so the month of June will never need to be tainted by heart-breaking memories. We had a full plan for this gal-tastic break. Sarah would have a wonderful time, even if it killed me. Judging from previous holiday experiences with Sarah, I’m not exaggerating.

  We were staying at a small, family run hotel on the edge of Rome. The elderly owner, Leonardo, was approximately four-foot-tall and the cutest little Italian man I had ever met. He had a permanent smile on his olive-skinned face. His shiny, bald head reflected the sun and it did not seem to matter how hot it was today, he wore a clean white shirt buttoned to the top and a silver tie which was pinned to his shirt. I wanted to adopt him. His wife, Maria, was just as tiny as her husband but as terrifying as a tiger that hadn’t eaten for days. She was like a yappy Yorkshire Terrier snapping at your feet. A floral scarf was hiding her hair and she wore a matching apron, making her look like the Italian equivalent of Nora Batty. She handed us biscotti as we arrived which we felt obligated to eat in front of her, fearing we would be scolded if we refused.

  “Mmmm,” I said as I tried to crunch down on the hard biscuit without breaking my teeth, “delicious.” I wonder if my travel insurance would cover dental emergencies.

  “Si, delizioso!” she barked before muttering something in Italian to her husband and walking heavy-footed through another door. We all jumped as we heard the biscotti tray bang down on a worktop.

  “My wife, ah,” Leonardo began. I loved his accent. “She will bring coffee to your room, so you can settle.” He smiled, as though he was the most content man on earth.

  “Oh, that sounds great,” Sarah said, “but we really want to go straight back out to explore.”

  “Yeah, it’s still only early so we thought we’d go for a wander before dinner.”

  “Ah, wonder?” he looked confused.

  “A wander, you know, like a walk around, to see what is nearby.”

  “Ah, ok, si si. Here, your key.” He handed us an old, rustic key with
a tag showing the number ‘4’ dangling on very fragile piece of string. “Up a-the stair, left,” he gestured, “your room at end of corridor.”

  “Thank you!” We both smiled, but Leonardo looked worried.

  “I ah, I go tell Maria we no need coffee.”

  He anxiously shuffled down to the door Maria went through and I suddenly felt very guilty.

  “Do you think she’ll go mad?” I asked Sarah. “I feel awful.”

  “If he’s made it to a hundred years old and she’s not killed him yet then I think he’ll be ok. Come on, let’s get these bags away so we can go back out into the sun.”

  Sarah and I grabbed our things and headed up the stairs, following Leonardo’s directions. The carpet looked as old as Leonardo and his wife, the walls looked aged and the ceiling paint was peeling off, but somehow it did not matter. It looked chic, as though it was intentionally decorated that way. Unlike the peeling paint in my own bathroom that I keep putting off fixing. DIY is not my forte.

  We unlocked our door and walked into our room which would be our home for the next few nights. We were not disappointed. The air conditioning in particular was a welcome treat. The floor tiles were a deep orange colour, very Mediterranean. There were two single beds covered in clean white bedding with mustard yellow cushions and throws, and the curtains hanging in the windows matched it all nicely. It was all very modern. I was expecting dull colours and net curtains but clearly Maria had sense to bring in a professional decorator. Each bedside table had its own lamp as well as a vase with fresh flowers on one and the bible on the other. (Sorry, God, but I’ve brought Twilight instead. Maybe next time).

  The tall window turned out to be a glass door leading to a small balcony, just big enough for a small round table and two chairs. It would be a squeeze to get us both out there without fear of being pushed over the railings, but I’m sure we would manage whilst sober.

  In the corner of the room was a two-seater sofa with a black metal coffee table in front of it. I spotted a plate on top with yet more biscotti, (Maria has been busy) and a small laminated note was propped up against an ice bucket which was busy chilling a bottle of prosecco.

  Sarah picked up the note and read it out in her best attempt at an Italian accent.

  “Welcome dear guests to La Casa di Angelo

  We hope you enjoy your stay with us and your time in Rome

  Breakfast will be brought to your room at 7:30 which can be eaten on balcony

  Ask for Leonardo if have any problem

  Grazie”

  “Perfecto,” Sarah smiled, resuming her normal Yorkshire accent. “Breakfast in bed.” She put the note back on the table and opened the door to the balcony and stepped out.

  “I’m just going to use the loo,” I lied. “I’ll be back in a tick.”

  I had switched my phone on at the airport but it had not connected to the local network when we were there. I had promised Sarah a phone free holiday, but I had to check on both of my boyfriends.

  There it was, a WhatsApp message waiting for me with a photo of my two favourite men. The one that cuddles me at night, keeps me warm and makes me feel needed. And the other, the sex god boyfriend of mine that I just can’t get enough of. Ok, yes, he cuddles me at night too, but on the rare nights we are not together, I have Bing to keep me company.

  “Hope you’ve arrived baby,” Zack said in his message, “we miss you already xxxx”

  In the photo, Zack and Bing were laying on my couch. Bing was asleep on Zack’s bare chest. Oh, what I wouldn’t give to be there right now. I can’t believe that I am jealous of my own cat. My dream from my airplane nap has left me feeling so horny... I hope Sarah doesn’t catch me dry humping my pillow in my sleep.

  “We’re here! It’s so hot!! Gorgeous though. Can’t wait for pizza. I’ll try not to come back the size of a whale :P Love you Xxxx”

  Knock knock.

  “Have you shat yourself?” Sarah called from the other side of the door. “Let me in, I need a wee.”

  I opened the door and she saw the phone in my hand.

  “You don’t need to hide your phone, you spoon. You’re allowed to communicate with your fella.”

  She sat herself on the toilet and I finally had a look around the bathroom, running my hand along the bath.

  “It’s all marble,” I observed. “Marble floor, tiles, bath, sink, everything.”

  “I know, it’s gorgeous. Nice and cool in here too.”

  It was. There was no window and the air conditioning had been working very nicely in the whole room. I walked out of the bathroom and out to the balcony where the heat hit me. Our room faced another building, so there was not much of a view. It was a very narrow street so there was no breeze coming in through the door either, making it very humid.

  In hot, humid weather, there are two types of girls. There are the girls who can wear their long hair free flowing and held back out of their eyes with their sunglasses on top of their head. They can also have a full face of makeup on without the risk of a sweaty upper lip. Sarah falls into this category of women. And then there are the other types of girls. The ones whose hair sticks to their sun-creamed shoulders so it needs to be tied back in a boring, unflattering ponytail. They can’t wear foundation as it melts straight back off. Any attempt at eyeliner and they look like a member of the Addams family. Their upper lips sweat profusely and they can’t walk around in skirts because their legs chafe. Unfortunately for me, I fall into this category of women.

  “That’s better.” Sarah joined me on the balcony. “Where shall we go first? Shall we just go for a walk and then find somewhere to eat? I know you’re dying for an authentic pizza cooked by actual Italians and not from the frozen food section at Tesco.”

  “I’m in Italy, this is my dream come true!” I said, fanning myself with a tissue I found in my pocket. “Pizza is top of my list of things to do. Sightseeing comes later. Pizza over Pisa.”

  “Well luckily for you, Pisa is in a different place entirely. Ok, let’s freshen up and head out before Maria brings us more biscotti.”

  Back inside, I dug my little bag out of my suitcase and transferred over some necessities for walking around in a hot, foreign country: euros, tissues, compact mirror and my trusty handheld fan. Zack thought it was hilarious that I had a handheld fan, rather than a battery powered one like the rest of the modern world. Like a child, I got in a grump with him. I’ve had this fan for years and it has never let me down yet. As soon as he started nuzzling my neck though, I couldn’t help but forgive him. Mock my fan? That’s fine. Burn my house down? That’s fine. Just keep doing what you’re doing…

  Once my flutters were under control, I brushed my hair back and made sure it was all tied up properly, including those annoying short bits of hair that always need pinning down to my head. As soon as they’ve managed to grow to a normal length, I seem to get another batch of short, useless fluff. Once they get even a little bit moist with sweat, they curl and sit on my forehead making me look like Dot Cotton.

  I pulled out my sun cream and we both topped up, knowing the sneaky sun had a way of getting you, even if you spent most of the time in the shade.

  Once we were ready, we headed out of the room and downstairs. There was a lot of banging and raised voices in the background. Well, we could make out Maria shouting. Poor Leonardo. Maybe I should just adopt him as my Nonno so I can take him home and look after him. Bing would love him.

  We stepped out of the door, through what felt like a heat curtain, and out on to the cobbled street.

  “So,” Sarah said as soon as we were a safe distance from Maria’s rage. “Where shall we go first?”

  She had downloaded an app to her phone which was full of tourist information, locations and things to do. There was also a map which pinpointed our exact location. Her sunglasses were sat on the top of her head, holding her glossy hair back as she focused on the map. Not an ounce of sweat on her face. Cow.

  “Wherever you like. It’s only fou
r o’clock so not time to eat yet.” I pulled out my fan and started wafting myself, feeling the sweat creeping up on the back of my neck.

  I was hoping she would suggest going for gelato or coffee and sitting outside a coffee shop. Something nice, easy, relaxed and in the shade. There was plenty of time to do tourist stuff, but for today it would be nice to stay near to the hotel and get used to the heat.

  “Oo! Let’s walk to the Coliseum! It’s only a mile away!”

  A mile, in this heat? I will have burned off my pizza before I’ve even eaten it if we walk over there. I hope I don’t get grumpy. Heat and hunger can be a dangerous combination.

  “Let’s do it,” I smiled, determined to make it an amazing holiday for her.

  And so, we set off walking on the cobbles which were probably laid when Adam and Eve were stealing apples from the tree. Luckily, being from Halifax, we were used to cobbled roads trying to trip us up. I had no idea where we were going but I trusted Sarah’s navigational skills, even if we were in a foreign country relying on a phone app.

  “Have you seen this?” she asked. “Look at the walls.”

  They were old and looked like a strong gust of wind could blow them down however they had managed to survive this long. Some of the local authorities back home could learn a thing or two from our ancient Roman friends. Maybe the Romans could consider invading England again and fixing our roads. I might make a suggestion to the Pope.

  “Yeah, very old.” I was not sure how one was supposed to compliment a wall. Very bricky? Although these weren’t bricks. They’re made from old stone. Very stony? I have no idea how to entertain my history loving friend.

  “No, you spoon, look!” This time she pointed. Carved into the wall was a cross. A crucifix. It was very worn, hard to see, but stood out once you spotted it. “I wonder if there is an old church nearby that we could look at.”

  “It’s a very religious city. I’ll bet there are more churches than coffee shops.”