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“Oh, wait, Mario,” David says before we leave, “Is there a dress code at the club?”
“Oh, si, signore. Apart from the mask, the members usually wear formal attire, and submissives in a closed relationship should wear a collar for other dominants to know they are off-limits.”
“Yay!” David says, throwing his arms around my neck. “More shopping.”
David’s eagerness to go shopping reminds me of my purchase on our first day here.
“Babe, while Mario shows me the store's location on the map, could you run up to the room and get my Persol sunglasses, please?” I ask, wanting to have a private word with the concierge.
“Sure, babe. Be right back,” he says, heading towards the elevator, and I turn to Mario.
“I am sorry to keep you, Mario, but has a package arrived for me from …” I grab my wallet from my jeans pocket, take out the receipt from the glass store, and show it to him. “I bought a sculpture from Vetro Veneziano Colombo, and the owner said he would send it to the hotel. Has it arrived yet?”
“I will check with the front desk, signore. Should I have it sent to your room for you?” he asks.
“Yes, please, but only after we have left for the club. I want it to be a surprise.”
“Si, signore. I will get on this right away,” he says before striding to the front desk.
“Thank you,” I say, and before I can start to worry about our first adventure into a sex club, David exits the elevator and hands over my sunglasses before grabbing my hand and dragging me outside. I guess he wants to go shopping.
CHAPTER NINE
DAVID
The Rialto bridge is writhing with people, tourists trying to take the perfect selfie, and if Jon didn’t have such a tight hold on my hand, then we would have been separated.
I pull him to stop when I find a space beside the stone railing to look at the view. Clouds dot the horizon, and the blue sky meeting the water is mesmerising.
The breeze is cold against my face, and even Jon’s cheeks are rosy. Water taxis and gondolas are moored on the banks of the river, and others are drifting past.
“It shouldn’t be far now, babe. GPS says it’s the first alley, on the other side of the bridge,” Jon says.
“I can’t wait to see what a ‘non-touristy’ Venetian mask looks like?” I say as we turn to cross the bridge.
Jon pulls me closer and wraps his arm around my waist, saying, “As long as you wear my diamonds, baby, I’ll be happy.” And I melt. Sometimes I forget how romantic he can be. Usually, I’m the dreamy romantic one, and Jon’s more practical, keeping my feet planted on the ground. But occasionally, and more than ever on our honeymoon, he’s shown his softer, more ‘impractical’ side, and I love it.
“Only your diamonds?” I ask, feeling cheeky and loved.
“I think you would look hot, and every man there will hate me knowing you’re mine,” Jon says as he manoeuvres me down a narrow, cobbled street and stops in front of a store with an vast number of vibrant masks and swaths of beautiful fabric.
“This must be the place,” I say as we enter, and I immediately scan the walls for the perfect mask.
The store is packed. There isn’t an inch of space not covered with some type of mask. Some look like a jester, some like a cat, and others are plainer. I’m not too keen on wearing a full-face mask, as I’m sure it will make me feel claustrophobic, but these half-face ones, only covering your eyes with intricate details, look stunning.
“Buongiorno, signore. Come posso aiutarla?” a young lady asks.
“Ahh, hello,” I say with an apologetic smile. “Sorry, I don’t speak any Italian.”
“Luckily, I can speak English,” she replies brightly. “Can I help you find anything?”
“Actually, we’re looking for Maria. Mario sent us from Hotel Rialto,” I explain.
“I see…” she says, looks over her shoulders, and nods to a woman by the counter. “If you would please follow me.”
Weaving through the people, we follow her through the store until we come to a small door partly hidden by a display of jester masks in jewel tones, and enter behind the woman.
The door leads to a narrow hallway, with a warm rust-toned carpet and stone walls, to another door.
