Wychwood Venice

After The Fitting

One

Ricci messaged back immediately and suggested they meet at the Arsenale vaporetto stop at eight o'clock. Sandy took an age to decide what to wear. The answer, of course, depended on what kind of meeting it would be. What Sandy couldn’t work out was whether it was simply a friendly invitation for a drink or something more. Did Ricci mean it as a date? The idea brought a flush to her cheeks. She hadn’t been on a date for God knows how long, and never as she was now. Misreading the signals could end in disaster. In the end, she stopped worrying and picked a vintage white Ramones T-shirt, blue jeans, black ankle boots, topped off with a second-hand black leather biker jacket she had picked up at a flea market. She thought the outfit would cover most eventualities. She did, however, put on some very expensive lingerie, just in case.

Sandy caught the Number 1 Vaporetto from San Marcuola along the Canale Grande, passing under the Rialto Bridge and past the Basilica Santa Maria della Salute and the Doge’s Palace before getting off at Arsenale, the site of Venice’s ancient shipyard and armoury. Sandy arrived a couple of minutes after eight, and although it was February, the area was still crowded with locals and some tourists. She looked around but couldn’t see Ricci and, for a moment, wondered if she had made a mistake. Fifteen minutes passed, and with no sign of Ricci, Sandy was about to give up and leave when she spotted her pushing through the crowds. Ricci caught sight of Sandy, and a broad smile lit up her face. Sandy smiled nervously back, still unsure why she had agreed to meet Ricci.

“Ciao, Alessandra, I’m sorry I’m late. I got caught up at work, and the crowds are terrible tonight. Did you get my SMS? I’m so glad you waited. You look great,” said Ricci breathlessly, leaning in to exchange cheek kisses.

“Ciao Ricci. It’s great to see you again.” Sandy kicked herself for not checking her messages and was glad she had waited.

“Come on,” said Ricci, casually sliding her arm through Sandy’s as if they were old friends. “Let’s find somewhere to talk and have a drink. I could murder a negroni.”

Ricci wore a long black puffer coat that Sandy thought would have kept her warm at the North Pole. Sandy had always smiled at the way Venetians bundled up as soon as the temperature dropped below about fifteen degrees, which in the UK would be called chilly rather than arctic. Arm in arm, Ricci led her along the Riva San Biasio to Via Garibaldi, where Sandy expected them to head for one of the bars on the busy street, which had long since been built over a canal. However, Ricci turned into a side alley and said, “Come on, it’s not far now. You’ll love it.”

Love what? wondered Sandy, still unsure what she was doing. The alley took a couple of turns before Ricci ducked into a doorway. She knocked on the door and said something into an intercom that Sandy didn’t catch. The door opened, and Ricci stepped inside. Confused, and if she was honest, a tiny bit scared, Sandy hung back until Ricci grabbed her hand and pulled her into what she assumed would be a house. Instead, Sandy found herself in what she quickly realised was some kind of club. A large rainbow flag hung on one wall, and a bar ran along another. The lighting was discreet, but Sandy could make out people sitting in booths and at candlelit tables. A Billie Eilish song played softly, and a few couples swayed together on a small dance floor. Looking around, Sandy noticed with a start that the clientele was female.

Ricci led Sandy by the hand to a booth, where she shrugged off her puffer coat, revealing the same mesh shirt as this morning. Ricci noticed Sandy looking and said, “I had to come straight from work. I hope you’re not disappointed.”

“Oh no, not at all. I love your look.” Sandy thought she looked incredible, but was shy about saying so.

They sat side by side, facing the dance floor, but Sandy kept casting nervous glances around, and Ricci laughed. Sandy said, “What?”

“You have just realised it’s a lesbian bar, and you’re wondering if I know who you are, and if you’ve made a huge mistake meeting me.”

Sandy reddened, as that was exactly what she had been thinking. Ricci laughed again. “Yes, of course I know, and it doesn’t matter here. This is a safe space, Alessandra. You’re not alone here. I can guarantee that. I also hope you won’t think you’ve made a mistake with me.”

“Oh, okay,” said Sandy, still a little disconcerted by it all. Ricci waved to a girl who was waiting tables. ”What do you drink, Alessandra?”

“Um, you said you could murder a negroni. How about one of those?”

“Due negroni, grazie,” said Ricci to the girl, who gave Sandy a broad smile. The girl left to fetch the drinks, and Sandy turned to Ricci.

“Forgive me for asking, but are you gay, Ricci?”

“Sometimes,” she said, then giggled. “Sometimes all the time, and sometimes not all the time.”

Sandy frowned in confusion. ”I don’t understand.”

“It’s simple, Alessandra. If I like someone, then nothing else matters.” Ricci reached over and pushed Sandy’s hair behind her ear.

“And do you like me?” asked Sandy, her heart fluttering

Ricci leant in and kissed Sandy on the lips, then sat back and giggled. “I’m sorry, Alessandra, I couldn’t stop myself. Does that answer your question?”

Ricci’s kiss felt to Sandy like rain breaking a long, long drought. She had been so long without physical affection that she felt intoxicated by the touch of Ricci’s lips against hers, however brief. She stared at Ricci, bewildered as to why anyone would feel this way about her. “But why me, Ricci?” she asked.

“Because you are beautiful, Alessandra. I almost couldn’t look at you this morning when we met. You blew me away.”

It was Sandy’s turn to laugh. “Why are you laughing?” said Ricci, a frown creasing her forehead.

“Ricci, I have to confess that this morning I first thought you didn’t approve of me. Because you wouldn’t look at me, I was getting angry, and it was only when you finally looked at me properly that I realised that wasn’t it.”

Ricci snorted, “Look at you? I could barely talk because of you.” Sandy felt a surge of warmth at Ricci’s words.

The girl returned with their drinks and set them on the table, giving Sandy an even wider smile.

“See,” said Ricci. “She thinks you’re hot.”

“No, she doesn’t,” said Sandy, though she secretly relished the idea. She took a sip of the negroni and felt Ricci’s hand on her thigh under the table. Too fast, she thought, and gently moved it away. Ricci pouted, then asked, “So, who is Annabelle? She must be someone special to pay for your gown for the Doge’s Ball, no?”

“It’s a long story, Ricci, but she’s a friend from the UK. I did something for her and her wife once, and it’s her way of saying thank you. I guess.”

Ricci’s eyes widened in surprise. “You must have done something big for them.”

“Yes, I think it was,” murmured Sandy, not wanting to talk or even think about it.

“So, Annabelle is gay? You said her wife.” Ricci asked.

Sandy worried she was giving too much away. She nodded and changed the subject. “How long have you worked for Beatrice?”

“Only a few months. I studied fashion in Milan and want to design my own clothes, but it’s hard to break into the industry, so I took this job to get a foot in the door. The pay is poor, but Beatrice lets me use the machines in her studio in my own time. I’m working on a collection. One day, I will have my own show.”

“That sounds fantastic, Ricci. I would love to see your designs.”

“Later, perhaps. But first, tell me your story, Alessandra. How did you come to be in Venice?”

Sandy wasn’t prepared for the question. Nobody had asked it since she arrived here.

“Oh, okay. My family were originally from Venice and moved to London after the last war. We came here many times on holiday, and I have always wanted to live here. I studied at the university here for a year, and then a job came up that gave me enough money to make the move. I rent a flat in Canareggio and teach English to obnoxious rich kids. It’s not a lot, but I love living here.”

She definitely didn’t want to talk about Wychwood and especially Overstrand. Not on a first date, anyway.

“I’m glad you came here, Alessandra,” Ricci said.

“So am I,” said Sandy. “By the way, most people in the UK call me Sandy.”

Ricci frowned. “Ugh. No, I like Alessandra. It’s much prettier. So, when did you decide to dress as a woman?”

She didn’t hold back, thought Sandy, and wondered about telling her to mind her own business. Better to be honest, though, if this was to go anywhere.

“I knew I was gay from an early age. I was a bit of a femboy, to be honest. Then, at university, I came out and began cross-dressing. Recently, I had the opportunity to dress more and finally decided to go full-time here.”

Sandy knew she wasn’t being entirely honest, but there was no way she was going to go into details. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

Ricci reached for Sandy’s hand and squeezed it. “Was that hard to do?”

Sandy nodded. “It was at first. I was terrified to begin with, but it has got easier. But what about you?”

Ricci smiled. “When I was eleven, I had a crush on a girl at my school. I made the mistake of telling my mother, and she dragged me to church for confession. The priest was pretty cool, actually. He told me it was a phase I was going through and that it would pass.” She laughed. “One Hail Mary and the Lord’s Prayer as a penance. Of course, it wasn’t a phase, and it didn’t pass, but it taught me to keep my head down. A few years later, I had my first girlfriend. When I left home to go to university, for the first year I was like a kid in a sweet shop. I slept with every girl I could get to go to bed with me. But, as we all know, if you have too many sweets, you get sick. The second year, I was celibate.”

She looked at Sandy and grinned wryly. “I know, feast and famine, eh? You won’t be surprised to hear there were a few gay boys on my fashion course, and a couple of them liked to cross-dress. I hung out with them because they were gentle, didn’t judge me, and were as funny as fuck. There was one in particular who, when he dressed, was so pretty he could easily pass as a girl. I don’t know exactly why, but I found it exciting to be around him, so much so that we got together for a while. We eventually split up, but I never forgot how good it felt between us. Anyway, this morning Beatrice told me about you, but when I saw you walk into the studio today, it was as if I’d been struck by lightning. I literally trembled when I looked at you. You were so beautiful that I begged Beatrice to let me help you get ready for your gown.”

She paused and waved the girl over to order another Negroni for both of them. “I thought we made a connection, and I took the chance to slip you the note as you left. I was so happy when you called.”

“I’m glad you did it, Ricci,” Sandy said and squeezed Ricci’s hand. “I thought you looked stunning when I saw you.”

At that moment, the music changed, and Chappell Roan’s Pink Pony Club started to play.

“I love this. Come on, let’s dance,” shouted Ricci, standing and grabbing Sandy’s hand. Sandy had always thought of herself as a good dancer, thanks to the dance classes at school, but Ricci was on another level, throwing shapes that Sandy tried to match. Other couples joined them until the small dance floor was packed. Sandy felt liberated by the music and the energy around her. Nobody here cared who or what she was. There was no past, no future, just the present, and she gave herself to it. Sandy knew Ricci was dancing for her, and she felt euphoric, knowing that, for the first time in a very long time, someone wanted her.

The song ended, and a slow Sara and Tegan track began. Ricci slipped her arms around Sandy’s neck and pulled her in for a kiss. Sandy closed her eyes and kissed her back, relishing the feel of Ricci’s lips against hers. Sandy’s arms wrapped around Ricci, and they swayed to the music, oblivious to everything but each other. Whatever happened after this, Sandy would never forget being held in the arms of someone who desired her for who she was.

“Come back with me,” whispered Ricci in Sandy’s ear.Two

It wasn’t far to Ricci’s ground-floor studio, just off the Campo de Pozzi, and they walked hand in hand. A group of three or four men walking the other way gave them filthy looks, and one of them yelled, “Puttana lesbica.” Ricci walked on for a few paces, then stopped and shouted back, “Vaffanculo.” They heard the men shouting angrily and running after them. “We need to move. Now!” Ricci said, leading the way as they sprinted along winding alleys until Ricci stopped outside a door. She fumbled with the key before finally opening it, and they fell inside. Ricci slammed the door, and a minute later, they heard footsteps running past. They collapsed on the floor, hearts pounding and trying to catch their breath, until they both broke into nervous giggles.

“That was fun,” said Sandy. “Do you think it was telling them to fuck themselves in the arse that triggered them?”

“I don’t mind being called a lesbian. But being called a whore is too much. she grinned, “Anyway, straight men like to give it, but don’t like to take it.”

Sandy laughed until her stomach ached.k

“I need a drink,” said Ricci, getting up from the floor and giving Sandy a hand up. “How about you?”

“What have you got?” Asked Sandy.

“Beer, wine, vodka, I think.”

“A beer would be great, thanks.”

Ricci took off her puffer coat, walked over to the small kitchen area, opened the fridge, and took out two bottles of Birra Venezia. It gave Sandy a chance to look around for the first time. It was a typical monolocale apartment with a single room for cooking, sitting, and sleeping, and she noticed a shower room through an open door. Drawings of dresses and women’s fashions were taped to the walls, and there was a small desk with an Apple computer and a large monitor.

“Are these all your designs?” Asked Sandy, gazing at the pictures.

Ricci came and stood next to Sandy, handing her one of the bottles before leaning her head against Sandy’s shoulder. “Yes, they’re all mine. Do you like them?”

“They’re beautiful, Ricci.”

“Thank you. I hope to get them all made soon for my show.”

“I would love to be there when you do,” said Sandy as she put her arm around Ricci’s waist.

“I promise you will get the first invitation. Cin, cin,” said Ricci, and they clinked bottles before taking a drink. They stood for a few minutes looking at the drawings, until Ricci whispered, “Are you going to kiss me?”

Sandy stroked Ricci’s face with her fingers, and Ricci closed her eyes in anticipation. Sandy leant forward until their lips met, and she heard Ricci sigh. Suddenly they were kissing hard, their tongues clashing until Sandy pulled away.

Ricci looked at her in bewilderment. “What’s the matter?”

Sandy dropped her head and bit her lip. “I’m scared,” she said. “It’s been a long time since I was with a woman.” And it didn’t end well, she thought, but wisely didn’t say so.

Ricci lifted Sandy’s face with her forefinger and smiled. “No need to be scared with me. Let’s take it slowly, and I’m sure we can do something we both enjoy.”

She grazed Sandy’s lips with a finger, then slid her hand down Sandy’s chest and under her T-shirt. Sandy closed her eyes and shivered as Ricci’s fingers found a nipple. The touch sent a pulse racing through her body, turning her knees to mush She would later swear she saw a meteor storm streak across the back of her eyelids.

Ricci sensed how it affected Sandy, and she pushed the T-shirt up, covering Sandy’s head and trapping Sandy’s arms above her head. Sandy felt Ricci’s lips caress her nipple, and she moaned, “Yeeeesss.” Unable to move or see, Sandy squirmed as Ricci moved from one nipple to the other and back again. She was desperate to touch Ricci, but the T-shirt still pinned her arms. Eventually relenting, Ricci pulled the T-shirt up and over Sandy’s head and let it drop. Sandy watched wide-eyed as Ricci pulled her mesh top over her head and unclipped her bra, letting it fall to the floor. She was transfixed at the sight of Ricci’s small breasts, and reached out to touch one. Sandy’s traced circles around the nipple with a finger, finally stroking it, making the nipple harden and Ricci gasp.

After his disastrous teenage fumbles with girls, Sandy had never thought she could be attracted to a girl again. But there was something about Ricci that was different. Sure, Sandy thought she had an androgynous look, with her short, curly hair and boyish figure, yet she was not masculine at all, though she probably would have been called a tomboy growing up. ‘Don’t overthink this,’ she told herself. ‘You like her, and she likes you. Nothing else matters.’

Ricci grabbed both of Sandy’s hands and held them against her breasts, keeping her eyes locked on Sandy’s, as if worried it was too much for Sandy. In a voice husky with desire, Ricci growled, “Bed. Now!”

Still kissing, they staggered to the bed and fell onto it, Sandy ending up on the bottom as Ricci tugged off her jeans. Ricci stood up to get rid of her jeans and had to hop around to get them off, making Sandy giggle at the sight. Ricci kept her word, guiding a nervous Sandy with quiet words and actions as they kissed, stroked and licked each other until about an hour later, when Sandy made love to a woman for the first time.

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