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The city smelled of salt and wet stone. Carla stood under the Galleria's awning, her hand still on the brass handle – cool, despite the humid air that made her skin sticky. She had deliberately left the umbrella behind. She knew it for sure now.
The rain didn't come suddenly. It had hung in the air all afternoon like an unspoken longing. Now, just before six, it had finally released itself. The street glistened. The light from the shop windows refracted in the water, transforming the asphalt into liquid gold.
She wore a white linen dress that left her shoulders bare and brushed against her thighs with every movement. The dampness would soak through if it clung to her body. Nevertheless, she stood still, feeling her pulse quicken.
The exhibition went well. The visitors smiled and nodded. Her colleagues congratulated her. Everything had gone perfectly.
And yet, Carla's skin felt too tight.
She took a deep breath. The air tasted of the sea and something electrical.
When she turned around, she saw the woman.
She was leaning against the wall about ten meters away, under the same awning, but further back, in the shade. Short hair that accentuated her cheekbones. Dark jacket over a white T-shirt, hands casually in her pockets. Her eyes rested on Carla—not intrusively, but completely.
Carla's breath caught in her throat.
The woman didn't smile. She only looked. And there was something in that look that made Carla's knees weak.
"Are you waiting for someone?" Carla's voice sounded rougher than intended.
The woman stepped out of the shadows. The light fell on her face – striking features, tanned skin, eyes so dark Carla could get lost in them. A hint of amusement played around her lips.
"Maybe," she said. "Not anymore."
Carla's heart leaped.
"You were watching me." Not a question. A statement.
"Yes." The woman came closer. Three meters. Two. "Through the window. You touched a picture that was already perfectly hung."
Carla remembered. The small oil painting. Her fingers on the frame, even though it didn't need any repairs. She simply had to touch it. To feel that it was real.
"That's..." Carla swallowed. "Strange."
"Is it?" The woman was now so close that Carla could see the raindrops on her jacket. That she could smell her scent—something woody, warm. "Or is it honest?"
The rain hammered louder on the porch roof. Carla felt her nipples press against the thin fabric of her dress. She crossed her arms, but not quickly enough.
The woman noticed. Her eyes flickered downwards briefly, then upwards again. A half-smile played around her lips.
"What's your name?"
"Livia."
The name rolled off her tongue like something sweet. Carla felt heat spreading through her stomach.
"Carla."
"I know." Livia's voice deepened. "It was written on the blackboard. But I would have known it anyway."
"From where?"
"You move differently than the others." Livia took another step closer. Now there was barely a meter between them. "As if you want to feel every room before you enter it."
Carla's face flushed. "You're talking like you know me."
"Not yet." Livia's eyes held hers captive. "But I want to."
The directness took Carla's breath away. In her life, everything had been mediated – polite hints, cautious approaches. But here Livia stood in the rain and simply said what she thought.
Carla felt her hands begin to tremble.
"This is crazy," she whispered.
"Maybe." Livia's gaze slid to Carla's lips. "But you're still here."
The rain now formed a continuous wall of water between them and the street. The world shrank to this small space under the eaves.
“I should go home,” said Carla, but her feet weren’t moving.
"Should you?" Livia's voice was barely more than a murmur.
"Yes."
"Liar."
The word struck Carla right in the heart. Not because it was harsh, but because it was true. She didn't want to go home. She wanted to stay here, in this moment, with this woman who looked at her as if she could see right through her.
"Where do you live?" asked Livia.
"Vucciria. Ten minutes."
"I have an umbrella." Livia pulled a black umbrella out of her bag. "I'll take you."
"Why would you do that?"
Livia's smile widened. "Because I want to see where you sleep."
The words vibrated between them. Carla felt everything inside her tighten – her stomach, her chest, the space between her legs.
"That is-"
"Honestly." Livia opened the umbrella. The sound ripped through the tension like a knife. "Come on."
She held the umbrella over them both. Carla stepped closer. Their shoulders almost touched.
"Ready?"
Carla nodded, even though she felt anything but ready.
They stepped out into the rain.
The path was a labyrinth of narrow alleys. Livia held the umbrella at an angle so that Carla stayed dry, while her own shoulder got wet. Drops ran down her neck, disappearing under the collar of her jacket.
Carla watched as the water glided over Livia's skin. She imagined how it would taste.
“You don’t have to—” she began.
"But I want to." Livia looked at her sideways. "Let me."
It wasn't a request. It was almost a demand. And something inside Carla melted away.
They walked in silence. Their shoulders touched with every step. Small collisions that made Carla's skin tingle. She was so aware of Livia's body that it hurt—the way she moved, fluid and confident. The warmth that radiated from her.
“Here,” Carla finally said, in front of a heavy wooden door.
Livia looked up. "Beautiful."
"It's old and loud."
"Still beautiful." Livia's gaze returned to Carla. "Like you."
Carla's fingers trembled as she put the key in the lock. The door jammed.
"Damn," she murmured.
Livia stepped behind her. Carla felt the heat of her body against her back, just centimeters away.
"May I?" Livia's breath brushed against Carla's neck.
Carla nodded, unable to speak.
Livia placed one hand on the door, right next to Carla's. Her other hand closed around Carla's waist – lightly, but firmly. Carla's breath caught in her throat.
"Relax," Livia murmured in her ear. "And push."
Carla pushed. Livia pushed too. The door opened.
But none of them moved.
Livia's hand was still on Carla's waist. Her body was now pressed against Carla's back. Carla felt every curve, every line.
"Carla," whispered Livia.
"Yes?"
"Do you want me to leave?"
"No." The word came without thought.
"Are you sure?"
Carla turned around. Livia's face was so close that she could feel her breath on her lips.
"Come in," whispered Carla.
The apartment was small. Carla closed the door behind them and leaned against it. Her heart was racing.
Livia stood in the middle of the room, dripping, her eyes dark.
"You're wet," said Carla.
"Yes."
"You should take off your jacket."
"Should I?" Livia's voice was rough.
"Otherwise you'll catch a cold."
"And that would bother you?"
"Yes."
Livia slowly pulled off her jacket. Underneath, her white T-shirt clung to her body, see-through from the rain. Carla could see the outline of her sports bra, the muscles in her arms.
"Better?" asked Livia.
Carla shook her head. "Worse."
"Worse?"
"You should change your clothes."
"I have nothing to change into."
“I have—” Carla broke off, biting her lip.
Livia came closer. "You have what?"
"A T-shirt. In the bedroom."
"Show me."
Carla went ahead, feeling Livia's gaze on her. In the bedroom, she opened the wardrobe and pulled out a large cotton shirt.
"Here."
Livia didn't take it. She just stood there, looking at Carla.
"What?" asked Carla.
"Your dress is wet too."
Carla looked down. The hem of her dress was soaked through and stuck to her legs.
"Not as bad as yours."
"Still wet." Livia stepped closer. "You should take it off."
Carla's pulse pounded in his throat. "Livia—"
"Yes?"
"What are we doing here?"
Livia raised a hand and brushed Carla's wet hair away from her face. Her fingers grazed Carla's cheek. The touch was electric.
"I don't know," whispered Livia. "But I want to find out."
"I do not know you."
"Yes." Livia's thumb stroked Carla's lower jaw. "You know me. Since the moment you turned around."
It was true. Carla felt it in every nerve. This woman was a stranger and yet familiar in a way that made no sense.
“I’ve never—” Carla broke off.
"What?"
"Something like that."
"What? You took a stranger home with you?"
“Yes. No. I mean—” Carla inhaled with a trembling breath. “A woman.”
Livia's eyes widened slightly. Then she smiled – gently, without triumph.
"OK."
"OK?"
"It changes nothing. Except that I will be more careful."
"I don't want you to be careful."
The words hung between them. Carla couldn't believe she'd said it. But it was true. She didn't want to be careful. Not anymore. Not today.
Livia's eyes darkened. "Are you sure?"
"No." Carla laughed – thin, nervous. "But I still want it."
Livia moved slowly, giving Carla time to back away. But Carla didn't back away. She stood there, trembling, as Livia's hands found her waist.
"Tell me when I should stop," whispered Livia.
"OK."
Livia's hands slid upwards, over Carla's ribs. The soaked fabric of her dress suddenly felt suffocating. Carla gasped.
“Too much?” asked Livia.
"No. Not enough."
Livia smiled – the first real, broad smile. Then she leaned forward and kissed Carla.
The world exploded.
Livia's lips were soft and firm at the same time. They tasted of rain and something sweet. Her hands pulled Carla closer until their bodies pressed together, wet against wet, heat against heat.
Carla moaned against Livia's mouth. Her own hands gripped Livia's hair, holding it tight as if she might disappear.
The kiss deepened. Livia's tongue brushed against Carla's lower lip, and Carla opened up, letting her in. The intimacy of it made her knees buckle.
Livia caught her, turned her over, and gently pressed her against the wall. Carla gasped. The coolness of the wall against her back, the heat from Livia's body in front – the contrast made her dizzy.
"Okay?" Livia murmured against her lips.
"More than okay."
Livia's hands slid under Carla's dress, over her bare thighs. Carla arched against her, needing more touch, more closeness, more of everything.
"Carla," whispered Livia, her voice husky. "You are so beautiful."
"Please-"
"What do you need?"
"You. I need you."
Livia pulled Carla away from the wall and led her to the bed. They lay down, a tangle of limbs and wet clothes. Livia lay on top of Carla, propped up on her elbows, looking at her.
"We can stop," she said quietly. "Anytime."
"I don't want to stop."
"Are you sure?"
"I've never been so sure."
Livia smiled. Then she kissed Carla again—slower this time, deeper. Her hands glided over Carla's body, exploring, learning. Every touch was precise, attentive.
Carla lost herself in it. In the hands, the lips, the way Livia looked at her – as if she were precious and wild at the same time.
As Livia's hand slid down her stomach, Carla held her breath.
"Okay?" whispered Livia.
"Yes. Please, yes."
Later they lay still, Carla's head on Livia's chest. She heard her heartbeat, slow and steady. Outside the rain had stopped. The city was quiet.
“That was—” Carla began.
“Yes,” said Livia. “It was.”
Carla laughed softly. Her hand rested on Livia's stomach, feeling it rise and fall with each breath.
"And now?"
"Now we sleep. And tomorrow we'll see what happens next."
"That simple?"
Livia kissed Carla's head. "So simple."
Carla woke up in the morning with Livia's arm around her waist. The light streamed through the window, golden and warm. She turned over and looked at Livia – relaxed in her sleep, looking younger.
Carla stroked her cheek. Livia woke up and smiled.
"Morning."
"Morning."
"Do you regret it?" Livia asked.
"No you?"
"Never in my life."
They kissed, slowly and sweetly. Then they made coffee, sat by the window, their feet intertwined.
"I have to work later," said Livia. "Photoshoot at the harbor."
"OK."
"But I would love to come back. Tonight. If you want."
Carla grinned. "I want to."
"Good." Livia leaned forward and kissed her again. "See you tonight then."
When Livia left, Carla remained seated by the window. She felt light, alive. Her body still tingled from the night's touches.
She pulled out her phone and texted her best friend:
I think I just changed my life. I'll tell you later. But it was INCREDIBLE.
The answer came immediately: DETAILS!!!
Carla laughed. She imagined herself telling the story. The woman in the rain. The kiss. The night.
She got up, took a shower, and got dressed. She felt different in her own skin – more aware, more alive.
As she walked to work, she hummed. The city looked the same, but it felt new.
Or maybe it was Carla, who was new.
She thought about tonight. About Livia's hands. About her mouth. About the way she had looked at her – like something precious.
Carla smiled.
This was just the beginning.
