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“Is it incredibly expensive?” I asked as I rested my arms on my knees to watch him speak. He was just so incredibly lovely. Enrapturing was the only term that fit. He enraptured me.
“Yes, it is. This scull is the only boat that I have, and it is old. It was my fathers.”
“Could your parents help with the costs?” I enquired, unsure of his home life but rather sure his folks would cough up some funds for him.
“No, they are both gone. Since I was little. I lived with my grandparents until I find a room in Firenze for myself.”
“Oh shit, I’m sorry. I lost my mother when I was young, so I know the hole that leaves in a child’s heart.”
He smiled a sad smile, peeled off his shirt, and wiped his face. I nearly swooned right off the edge of the dock.
“Grazie, thank you. It is what it is. My father was agent de polizia…police officer?” I nodded. “He was killed in duty when I was five. My mother runs off after I was born.”
“Oh, Donvino, I am so sorry.” I placed my hand on his calf and gave it a rub. The coarse hairs on his leg made my fingertips tingle. “Seems neither of us had a good childhood.”
“No, not so much but also yes,” he answered, locking his arms behind him to lift his sweaty face to the sun. It took all my control—which is notoriously low—not to clamber over his strong leg, settle in his lap, and kiss the sadness from his face. “My father leaving was not for his choosing. My mother was not a good kind for mothering. Too flighty my grandmother says, but beautiful, so my father was drawn to her like moth to a fire.”
“Yes, I can relate.” I sighed, pulling his sight from the wispy clouds to me. I did not turn my admiring gaze away when his eyes touched mine. His lips twitched a bit at the corners, and he sat up, looping his arms up and over his knees to mimic how I was sitting.
“You find me beautiful?” His voice was smoky. I bobbed my head. “The finding is mutual.”
If not for the call of his grandmother ringing out, I for sure would have been in his lap, with my fingers threaded into his damp hair and my mouth sealed to his. He rose slowly, stretched side-to-side, and then offered me his hand. I placed mine in his, letting him hoist me up with zero effort. I pretend-stumbled into his chest, uncaring if I got sweat on my clothes. His arm went around me, a band of steel that I never wanted to be freed from.
“Oops,” I tittered as he looked down at me. I saw the unmistakable fire banked in those mocha eyes. My body responded instantly. Then, because old people got to be old people, his grandmother called him again, and he stepped back, his arm dropping away.
“You are easy to fall to the ground. Perhaps we should make sure you eat more sweet to fight low blood sugar?”
“I would love something sweet,” I purred. Bless his heart, he dug about in the basket and removed a baggie of donut holes.
“Here, have a zeppole for your dizzy head.” He fished one out as I pouted and with long fingers and rather nice nails, he went to feed me. I opened my mouth. His nostrils flared as he placed the treat between my lips. I closed my lips around his fingers, moaned, and tasted his fingertips with my tongue. My dick was so hard now it ached. Donvino made a sound in his throat. A guttural sort of grunt that made my balls draw up. Then, because old people have to ruin every damn thing, his grandmother bellowed his name. This time, it was no nonsense. “I must go before she comes looking for me. She does not care that I am much taller, she will pull me into the house by my ear.” He slowly removed his fingers from my mouth.
“Are you doing garden work later today?” I asked and got a sad little headshake.
“I am working a double shift today to bank money for the trip to Pisa, and the tips will be good for the weekend is busiest.” He grabbed his shirt, pulled it over his head, and gave me one long, last look that sent sparks down to my toes. “Tomorrow morning. Ah no, tomorrow is Sunday. Maybe after mass?”
“Sure, yes, of course.” I smiled up at him. He trotted off through the mossy door. I could hear Giada speaking to him from the dock. For such a little thing, she sure could get some volume rolling. I lingered for a few moments. I did not want to get into a family moment. God knows I have enough of those with my own kin let alone bumbling into someone else’s. After the voices died down, I tidied up the dock, packed away the containers, and strolled into the villa, sighing as the cooler interior enveloped me. Giada came to meet me, smiling meekly and removing the basket from my hands.
“Signor Arlo, you did not have to bring this back. I would get it,” she said as I padded along after her down the long hallway, unsure of what to do with myself for the rest of the day.
“You were kind enough to make it, so the least I could do was bring it back.”
“You are most gracious. The signora is now awake. She asks for you to join her in the salon for coffee.”
“Oh okay, thank you.” I watched her go, then made my way to the salon, nodding pleasantly at the two old gals sitting on well-padded chairs, enjoying a Saturday brunch.
“Buongiorno,” I called and got two pleased smiles. “That’s all I got unless you wish to hear me count to one hundred.”
Señorina Cappello clapped her hands. Did that mean—
“Sì, count for us.” I blinked, then sighed. Jesus on a Segway, talk about feeling like a child. But I did as asked, rattling off my numbers as they both listened, wrinkled faces lifting in sheer pleasure at my dubious accomplishment. When I was done, I gave them a dramatic bow. Both applauded and then bid me to join them. I sat across from the settee they were on, toeing off my sandals and tucking my feet under my backside.
“You did well,” my aunt said while pouring some sort of dark purple tea into a cup for her guest from a delicate teapot. “Memorization is key.”
My tutor nodded her turbaned head as my aunt dropped a single cube of sugar into her fruity-smelling tea. “We will start on letters on Monday,” Señorina Cappello stated and took her cup from my aunt with a tender smile of thanks. Ginerva inclined her head and then turned her attention back to me. “Today we are going to confession followed by an early dinner with someone who has great impact on our business. It would do you good to meet with him, so I have arranged it.”
When did we become me? And confession? Uhm nope.
“I was planning to go to town to visit with Donvino, then maybe hit a club,” I explained, hoping to avoid another battle royale. Ginerva gave her friend a long-suffering look then, maybe because we had company, the firm set to her shoulders eased.
