The Red-Light Area

Anne- Santorini is one of the Cyclades islands in the Aegean Sea. It was devastated by a volcanic eruption in the sixteenth century, forever shaping its rugged landscape with a population of about two thousand habitants. The place is beautiful with all the adventurous ocean that promises enthusiasm, if explored, with its sky-high surfable waves. Fira, Santorini’s capital is one of the best places to see on the island. It’s a perfect Cycladic town and real postcard scenery. The kind of place one would watch in i********: stories and gush over at how divine and tempting it appeared.    I was on a vacation with my family and a few close friends. We had planned to accommodate a cottage near the beach for our stay of a week as we would enjoy the offerings of Fira and its magnificent surroundings. Our cottage was located at the outskirts of Fira, near the beach from where everything could be found at a walking distance.    One thing that I admired the most about Fira was its infrastructural heritage and the cosiness it has to offer with the tiny row houses arranged in descending alignment from the ocean, all white and welcoming. I was allotted the top floor that overlooked the vast ocean and some hills with greenery.    I left my luggage as soon as I was introduced to my room that had a mind-blowing view with glaring slopes that I felt tempted to stare it so long my eyes could afford. Needless to say, I decided against it and chose to take a stroll down the forest near the beach. I wasn’t tired and not hungry, but I was not in the mood to have a chat with any of my family or friends. I wanted to explore Fira as much as I can and wasting time sitting idle was nothing I wanted to do.     I put on the first pair of shots I could get my hands on and went out to have a walk and mix up with localities. I asked the manager of our cottage if he knew someplace nearby that I could visit and he told me about the villages of Firostefani near Fira that had plenty of restaurants and cafés located at the locations I could never dream off.    “If you want to enjoy some nice view. You should go there, Anne.” He said, putting a fine set of teeth at the display and I nodded thoughtfully meanwhile I surfed the internet to authenticate his recommendation. I found the pictures inviting as I listen to his ramblings all he knew about the place. “You will enjoy the magnificent sight of Fira itself. It is an hour to sunset. You must hurry up and I promise you, you would never forget this sunset in your whole life.” David said and I smiled as I slipped away contemplating if I should go there or I should proceed with my plan of taking a walk in the forest.    I was looking at the map in my iPad to measure the distance as I walked down the street when I bumped into someone, making the iPad slip out of my hands. It was about to hit the surface when, luckily, the man caught it. I felt like kissing him for this sharp reflex but deciding against it. I politely thanked him instead and looked up to find a pair of dark eyes staring at me.    He was a man between twenty-eight- to thirty-one-year-old with Italian features. He was handsome least to say with his shape features, perfect face and highlighted blonde hairs. I didn’t know why but I felt heat rush up-to my face making me blush. I apologized for not looking at the way I was going and thanked him for saving my iPad.   Hormones do it to you!  The voice in my head said, making me turn a shade darker than I already was. The man might have sensed my discomfort for he spoke.    “It’s okay! Besides, It’s my fault too. I didn’t look at the way I was going.” He said, making me curl my toes at how extremely sexy he sounded. His voice was deep and husky as if he had just woken up from a deep slumber. It had an Italian accent that made it all the more attractive and I was instantly drawn into it.    “Are you a tourist?” I asked, feeling tempted to know more about him and he nodded, looking in no hurry to part ways from me. The thought made me happy and I smiled. He smiled back and asked if he could join me and that he was going to take a stroll down the street as well. I said I was planning to visit this village the cottage manager told me about and he told me that he would love to enjoy some views himself.    “I have heard, ma’am,” He spoke as we started walking, making me realize that I was so engrossed in ogling at him that I forgot to ask his name. I shook head at the absurdities nonetheless, let him finish whatever he had to say. “That there is a café in the village of Firostefani that offers green coffee beans and some naturally roasted fish. Would you like to try?” He asked and I nodded before I asked for his name.    “I am Anne, an author.” I spoke, offering my hands for a shake. “I am from Asia. What about you?” I asked casually when I was eagerly waiting to know about him as much I can. He stopped walking, so did I, as he took my palms and placed a gentle kiss at the back of my hand before he introduced himself.    Lower down, ma’am! No need to fly all in the sky. It might be his culture. I told myself but the heart denied to listen, being way flattered than it should have felt.    “I am Pietro Boselli, a detective.” He said staring deep into my eyes making my heart take a somersault. We stood there in the street of Fira hand in hand looking at each other to initiate a story when deep down I knew that another story was about to come rolling in.    “A detective?” I asked, excitedly as I visualized this handsome hunk hot on a tail of some cruel murderer. The thought was deviously evoking.    “Yes, a detective!” He chuckled at my response and motioned for me to continue walking. I asked him if he had caught some cruel criminal or something and whether him being in Fira was a part of some case.    Pietro chuckled. “You have a wild imagination. Don’t you?” He spoke, taking a cigarette out of a pack, he placed the stick in between his lips as he looked at the other way.    “I am an author and a woman. I ought to have a wild imagination, Mr. Detective.” I defended myself as I caught up to him. No wonder he seemed an interesting man. The fragrance of tales attracts me like honey does to bee.  “Don’t get addicted to stuff!” I said, pointing to the half-burnt cigarette. “I am addicted to a worse thing.” “What is it?” “Guess” “Alcohol? Drugs?” “Worse than that?” “Social media? Phone?” “More hazardous!” “What is it?” “Love.” “Ah, so you have a love story?” “More like a death story!” “Did you guys break up?” I asked, feeling a bit interested. “Yeah, a while ago.” “And you still love her?” “Nope. She loves me, now. It’s a dead story.” Pietro replied walking casually and I felt more intrigued with each passing second. “It’s complicated.” “Tell me all about it.” “About, what?” “You and her!” “You mean, Me and Kiara?” “Her name is Kiara? Oh, such a cute name. So, she wants to get back again? Because she loves you.” “Nope, because I helped her in a case.” “Case?” “Yeah, her fiancé’s murder case.” “Woah! She got engaged when she loves you. I didn’t get it, man!” “So, how many cases have you exactly solved? Would you like to tell me about it? Will you mind if I compile your experiences in a book? We can share royalties.” I chirped excited at the thought of becoming Sir Arthur with that handsome Sherlock Holmes by my side, but we would have different chemistry.    “Already planning the plot?” Pietro laughed, making me smile sheepishly at the way he had put it. I shrugged lacking an appropriate response.   “I don’t have cases, Anne.” He said with a pinch of seriousness in his voice that automatically made me listen to him attentively. “I, with my friend, have recently solved a criminal case involving a high-profile murder. I used to be a surveillance cop before but now I have quit the job and registered a detective agency.” He said and I nodded urging him to continue.    “I don’t have stories. I just have a story. Actually, it isn’t a story. It’s THE story. It involves a heinous betrayal, murder, cheatings and things you don’t want to think about. We are on vacation. We are here to relax. Why would you want me to destroy your holidays?” He shook his head and I knew I had to convince him to tell me all he had.    “I won’t mind. I would love to listen to THE story. I am a storyteller, Pietro.” I said proudly as I snatched the half-smoked cigarette and threw it away. The man again shook his head nevertheless, continued walking and I knew the evening could not get any better.      “Fine!” He spoke. “It is the story of a RED-LIGHT Area.” He added and walked ahead of me.    “What is a red-light area?” I asked tailing after him, not before I secretly turned on the voice recorder for, I knew something worthy was coming up.