Lucy in the Sky

their cocktail-mixing skills in front of us. We want to ignore their posing but they are quite pretty to look at.
    It’s a sunny, late Saturday afternoon and Chloe and I arrived in Milan this morning. We’ve been wandering around the cathedral and the Galleria for a few hours and have just been at our hotel getting ready. We’re going for the full works tonight. I’m wearing a knee-length, dark green dress which skims my curves and Chloe is in tight black trousers and a sparkly silver top. We’re both wearing kitten heels. My hair is curling loosely just below my shoulders and Chloe has partially tied her long blonde hair back with a couple of clips. We look pretty hot, even if we do say so ourselves. And judging by the looks and wolf whistles these Italian men are giving us, we can’t be too far off the mark.
    ‘Thank you for asking Mandy.’ Chloe beams.
    ‘You’re very welcome,’ I reply. ‘It wouldn’t have been any fun on my own and I’ve been meaning to come out with you and Gemma after work for ages.’
    ‘Have you really?’ She looks pleased.
    ‘Yes, truly. I’m sorry, I just never seem to get round to it.’
    ‘Too busy going home to your lovely boyfriend.’ She grins.
    ‘Mmm.’
    Actually, it was odd with James last week. He seemed a little distracted after Easter and wouldn’t open up to me about it. To be honest, I’d been feeling preoccupied since my chat with Mum, so I didn’t really want to press him. He did say his dad–a lawyer too–is trying to persuade him to retrain as a criminal lawyer. I hate the idea of him defending rapists and murderers and the like.
    ‘More likely petty thieves,’ James said, but I didn’t feel at all reassured. I hope he tells his dad to piss off, interfering old sod.
    Two drinks later, Chloe and I are still at the first bar, and haven’t yet set off to meet the Luigis.
    ‘Shall we bother with dinner?’ I ask. We had planned to go for pasta but we’ve been too busy stuffing ourselves with the free aperitivi .
    ‘Nah. Let’s just try to score another plate of these mini pizza thingies,’ Chloe replies, turning to work her charms on the barman.
    By the time we arrive at Gianluca’s bar–named simply Eliza, after his wife–we’re both feeling decidedly tipsy. We’re ushered through the main room to the VIP area, which is dark and sumptuous, with low-level lighting and a dark grey and silver bar. We spot Gianluca immediately, over in a black velvet booth, surrounded by stunning women. One petite dark-haired girl in aslinky dress drapes her leg seductively over his thigh. Eliza is nowhere to be seen.
    ‘What shall we do?’ Chloe whispers. ‘Should we go over and introduce ourselves?’
    ‘I don’t know.’ I pull a face. Eventually we head to the bar and ‘ due vodka sour alla maracuja ’ trips off my tongue.
    The barman gets to work–another olive-skinned Italian. He leans in close as he pours the drink, dark eyes looking deep into Chloe’s green ones. The light in here is dim but I can still see her blushing.
    ‘ Scusi ,’ I interrupt, and he turns his hot-blooded attention to me.
    ‘ Si ,’ he drawls sexily.
    That’s where my Italian ends.
    ‘We’re here to see Gianluca,’ I tell him.
    ‘You’re not the only ones,’ he replies in heavily-accented English, nodding over to Gianluca and his gaggle of girls.
    ‘Yeah.’ I manage to restrain myself from rolling my eyes. ‘But we’re here for a business meeting.’
    ‘Aah. Mandy…’
    ‘…Nim PR,’ I finish off helpfully.
    He nods, coming out from behind the bar. ‘Gian!’ he calls. They speak in Italian briefly while Gianluca looks over to us. He pats the woman’s leg abruptly and she sulkily disengages herself and moves away. I assume he’s going to get up and come over, but instead he rubs his hand on the recently vacated black velvet seat.
    ‘ Ragazze ! Girls!’ he cries. ‘Come and join me!’ The other women are forced to make room for us as we take our place on either side of him. He pours us champagne.
    He is devastatingly good-looking, I think, as he ogles my breasts. Shame he’s such a smarmy bastard.
    ‘So, signorine ,’ he says, reluctantly tearing his black-coffee-coloured eyes away from my cleavage. ‘How do you like my bar?’
    ‘It’s very nice,’ I answer, and he smiles smugly and nods his head. ‘It would be good to see the rest of it…’ I add.
    ‘ Certo . Of course.’
    We follow him as he takes us through the VIP area, back