Gypsy Sex Romp 2
by Aurora Dupree
Smashwords Edition
Copyright 2012 Aurora Dupree
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This is a work of fiction. Names, places, businesses, characters and incidents are either
the product of the author's imagination or are used in a fictitious manner.
Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, actual events or locations is purely coincidental.
***
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
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Stacy could hardly believe her luck.
She'd checked her pockets about a thousand times at this point. She'd checked her bag even more times. But it was no use. Her little carrier case, the one with her money, passport, travelers checks and calling cards was gone.
It figured. Everyone had warned her before she left on the trip. Her parents had been especially insistent. She could hear them now, in her mind: You're too young to backpack across Europe by yourself! You don't have enough real world experience.
Stacy sighed. She'd laughed them off at the time, but now it appeared that they had been right. She had no money, and no way of getting in touch with anybody. She was in Spain, wandering through a town she'd never heard of, and she didn't know what to do. For a little while she sat down on a stone ledge trailing along an old cobblestone street, watching the people pass by, hearing their rapid, foreign language. She felt tears start to sting her eyes, and she willed them away. She wasn't going to cry, not over this. She was an adult, and she'd figure out what to do. Thousands of people have been in this exact situation before, millions probably. All she had to do was find a hotel, or hop on a train to the nearest embassy. Hell, there were plenty of people who must be willing to help her. But sitting there on that ledge, she felt very much alone. She felt sorry for herself for a little while, and then resolve flooded through her again.
One thing she did have was a map. The town she was in was called Melajos, and it wasn't very big. Only a few square miles across, according to the map. There was a big bell tower in the center of town that chimed every hour, and Stacy could see it from where she was, admiring its old, crumbling walls and the rusting bell therein. On the map, the restaurant and bar district was only about a mile and a half away. She figured there were probably hotels or villas there as well, and she could find a phone and figure out her next plan of attack. She smiled. Even when the chips were down, she was still resourceful. She knew she would always find a way to pull through. Whistling a little tune, she set off toward her destination, feeling very optimistic about the future.
Along the way she passed gangs of children dressed shabbily, people playing soccer, men and women standing outside of bars smoking and drinking. She heard reams of high pitched laughter, rapid talking in a language she wasn't fully yet fluent in. It began to unnerve her a little bit. Nobody on the street paid her any mind. She was just a traveler, passing through. She saw some of the men watching her and began to quicken her step. But even so, she hadn't made good time. She hadn't been walking as fast as she had thought. By the time she had reached the restaurant district of Melajos, it was well past dark, and most of the stores had closed down. She found a store willing to let her use the phone, but when she dialed out her parents weren't home. She figured there was no use calling the embassy now. She'd have to figure out a place to stay until tomorrow.
Stacy went back out onto the narrow streets, walking up and down the alleyways, trying to figure out what to do. She could go to a hotel and beg for a room, but that seemed somehow beneath her. It seemed like admitting defeat, somehow, to have to ask for charity. She was barely on the first leg of her trip, and already she was begging? She felt almost like crying again. Up in the windows, she could see the lights, and people moving, and she smelled food cooking, the aromas traveling up and down the streets and mixing in with the smoke. She put a hand to her stomach. It had been hours since she had eaten, and she was very hungry. If she didn't get some food in her soon, it was going to be a long lonely night. Nonetheless, she continued her lonely walk down the roads, wondering what to do. She started down a very narrow street, with two large buildings of apartments on either side. Outside one of the buildings, there was a woman smoking a cigarette. She was wearing a purple dress, and she had dark features and black curly hair. The woman studied Stacy with piercing brown eyes as Stacy passed. Finally, when Stacy was almost all the way past her, the woman called out.
"Hello, my dear. Are you searching for something?"
Stacy paused. The woman had an accent, but her English sounded good enough. She debated what to do. But her weariness had gotten the best of her, and in the next few seconds, everything came spilling out.
"I don't know," Stacy said, sounding miserable. "I lost my money and my passport. I've never been in this town before and I don't really know my way around. I'm just trying to figure out what to do, but to be honest I'm kind of freaking out right now."
The woman nodded, finishing the last of her cigarette and blowing wide smoke rings into the air.
"Do not worry, my love. I can tell you are in distress. Please, come inside. I am just about to eat dinner with my husband. Afterward, I am sure we can make arrangements so that you can continue your trip safely."
Stacy wasn't sure.
"I don't know," she said. "I don't want to be a bother."
"Of course not. It is no bother at all. My husband and I often rely on the kindness of strangers, and we extend that same hospitality to those we meet. Please. My name is Esmeralda. What's yours?"
"Stacy," she said, extending a hand.
"Then come inside, Stacy," Esmeralda said, opening the door to her apartment. There didn't seem to be too many options left, so Stacy acquiesced. Esmeralda led her up a small flight of stairs and into their small apartment.