Page 94 of Dante

It appears I married the opposite of my mother, who was famous in the neighborhood and beyond for her lasagna. If Mother was here to witness this today, what would she say?

Knowing her, she’d embrace Gina, dry her tears, and tell me what a sweet wife I married.

And then she’d give Gina a recipe and make a date for her to come over and practice.

The kitchen smells like charcoal, but I don’t care.

“I married an artist, not a cook,” I tell her, reaching for the stupid pink ribbons dangling from her waist. I give them a tug, pulling her body against mine.

Gina’s skin feels warm through her thin shirt. I work the bow loose with my fingers and let the apron fall to the floor between us.

“Let’s enjoy some wine instead.”

I step over to the wine fridge, flipping through the vintages. “Here’s one from the year you were born.”

I hold it up so Gina can read the label.

“I’m flattered.”

Gina may be 21, but she doesn’t know wine. And she doesn’t know the steep price of this vintage. But she has far more redeeming qualities.

I pour two glasses. “Let’s sit on the sofa.”

When she’s pressed close to me, I raise my glass. “To us.”

I try to show interest in the Academy and her new friend Chelsea by asking polite questions.

When Lorenzo pulled me aside and explained that Gina was feeling ignored and abandoned, my first response was incredulity.

Gina had everything she wanted. School. The restaurant to run. That ridiculous yapping puppy.

What else did she expect from me?

But Lorenzo was clear.

So here I am. Listening to her endless chatter.

Finally, I’ve had enough.

I take the glass from her hand and put it on the coffee table.

“Did anybody ever tell you you have the cutest ears?” I run the tip of my finger over her left lobe, leaning in for a nibble.

Taking her sigh of pleasure as a cue, I move my lips to graze the firm curve of her jaw.

“Dante, this is incredible. I love sitting here with you like this in our living room.”

I stroke her inner thigh exposed by her mid-length skirt. My fingers move higher on her inner thigh as I kiss her lips. My finger slips under the edge of her panties. I feel her pussy slicken and swell.

She pushes my fingers toward a favored spot.

“You’re a vixen, you know that?”

“I do, I do.” Gina moves her mouth to mine and nibbles my lip.

I lift her onto my lap, her soaked panties moist on the thin silk of my slacks.

“I’ve been waiting to touch you all day,” I say.