Chapter 9

We didn't stay at the cafe. Alana thanked the big man, but she refused his ice cream proposal seeing how I’m starting to slip away inside myself. I was so nervous that the piece wouldn’t not, probably, go down my throat, especially cold ice cream. I don't like ice cream, but I was ashamed to tell about it, since Alana was super eager to have it together, and I just used ice cream as a pretext to be together.

"Let's go wherever you want," the young woman says quietly when we are away from the cafe. "Don't worry. These bastards are too embarrassed to come back or look for us. I would have beat them all right without this robust gay." She gently puts her hand on my shoulder. Her eyes are sparkling like two dark crystals in the rays of the scorching southern sun. "Are you scared, poor babe?" Alana kisses me on the cheek.

She is not ashamed of our relationship (whatever that is). I like it: with her I feel as safe as I once felt with my sister and mother. There are so many people around us that it’s so easy to shade ourselves and dissolve into the medieval labyrinths of stairs, openings, small streets, alcoves, corridors.

Despite the fact that the Old Port is the historical gem of Dubrovnik and attracts crowds of tourists like a bright lantern attracts moths at night, there are people who gladly pay good money to live or rent a place here.

"It must be difficult to live in a place where it’s always so noisy and crammed with strangers," I note cautiously as I walk past the doors of apartments in the beautiful stone corridors.

"Esti, look!" Alana pulls my hand.

A few steps and we are standing on a small stone balcony, and a dark blue sea opens its arms in front of us; a palm tree grows in someone's huge pot on a tier below, and on a tower just above us there are figures of bishops or some other big Roman shots.

"Maybe that’s what these people want?" says Alana looking at white yachts and fancy boats below us. "Maybe they want to be the part of something old and mysterious? Don’t you feel the beauty romanticism of the past?"

"I don’t want to be the part of something old, to be honest. In those old days there was no ‘always’, antibiotics, and we would probably have been hanged or flogged if anyone found out that we had sex with each other," I note it with a mocking smile.

I sob "haaaa" as the black-haired cutie hugs me from behind, squeezing my breasts and whispers in my ear, "We did not have sex; we were making loooove!"

She turns me around to face her, greedily falling her soft lips on my trembling mouth. All the experiences of today are poured into my furious, hot kiss. I lightly bite her lip, delighting in her escaping groan. Alana is taller than me. She holds me by the waist, bending me slightly forward; I gently place one hand on her breast, and the other one rests on her tender cheek.

I can hear someone else's muffled moans of pleasure, but it doesn’t belong to Alana. We break the kiss giggling.

"Ohhh, someone else decided to have fun," Alana grins.

"You know what? Let's go and take a look!"

"This is not the right thing to do!" I say, being the first to sneak out to see what these languid female voices are doing.

This small stone street is completely invisible and deserted. Somewhere in the distance, one can hear people’s voices and the noises of a fountain standing in the square. The moans can still be heard, but no one is here.

"Isn't that scary?" Alana mutters, snuggling up to me. I hug her with surprise on my face: not so long ago she knocked down a big, healthy looking young man. Besides, she was ready to fight with all his friends, and now she’s tenderly snuggling up to me in an absolutely safe side-street covered with cobblestones that have been wiped and rubbed by endless feet of those who are alive and of those who will never see the light of this world.

"Don't be afraid," I say gently. "They're having what they are having somewhere behind one of these old doors!"

I look around. The female moans seem to fill the warm air around and my lungs; as if I can really hear supernatural whispers beyond my understanding.

"Esti, I hope you wouldn’t mind that fish buffet we saw when entering the Old Port? It’s on the square," Alana says in anguish. She’s feeling uncomfortable hearing the horny ‘ghosts’ of the Port. More likely my companion expected to just prank a hugging couple, and bam! Ghosts!

I cover my mouth with my hand so as not to give out my giggles, but Alana notices it. She’s jokingly pouting her lips. I know she’s not angry at me at all, and I’m so happy to be with her now.

"Come on," I’m merciful, "We'll buy a bottle of white wine in a nice shop just across the street."