Joe looked around. The apartment was furnished with Renaissance chairs and tables. There was a sitting room, a bedroom and even a dining room. They made themselves comfortable in the sitting room as a slender, thirty-something blonde attendant came in and asked if they would like coffee, something else or perhaps lunch. They all asked for coffee, and Redwood suggested a tagliere of meat and cheese. Nancy had not had lunch. Continue reading
The sun coming around the drapes woke Nancy again on Saturday morning. She lay there, reveling in the feel of Jack behind her. Continue reading
The No. 8 trolley clanged its bell as it stopped outside. Something was different. Joe’s room on the Monte Mario was at the back of the building, where he could not hear the street. He opened his eyes, suddenly aware of and delighted by Sandra’s smooth skin neatly fitting into every bend in his own body. The sun was not yet up, but the pre-dawn light leaked through the slats of the shutters. Continue reading
Friday morning, Nancy woke up facing the sun coming around the drapes. She kept her eyes closed and was instantly aware of the hard, muscular body behind her. She luxuriated in the feel of Jack’s lungs slowly expanding and contracting against her back. She had been surprised at how smooth his skin was. His body hair was fine and soft. She liked it. She controlled her breathing, hoping not to wake him. Continue reading
Joe could not go home, not if the Carabinieri were looking for him. He knew it was time to check in with Agent Redwood and to get off the streets. He got off the bus at Piazza Barberini. The Embassy was just up the Via Veneto. Continue reading
The next morning, Sandra called as Joe was washing up the coffee maker and his dishes.
“Need a ride?” Joe asked, trying not to sound too hopeful. Continue reading
“How do you do that thing with your clothes and the eyes?” Jack asked, as they rode down in the elevator to the coffee shop for breakfast. Nancy considered his tailored Italian blue suit and his patterned tie.
