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….following The Italian 2….

The party broke up around ten. I didn’t speak to Marco again. Thankfully he kept his distance, spending the evening surrounded by a cohort of openly gay admirers; some of them eyeing him with un-blinkered desire.
Christian hailed a taxi outside the hotel and asked the driver to take us to the West End.

“Isn’t he just too wonderful?” he said, leaning back and crossing his legs. “I could just eat him all up.”
“Marco, of course. I know it was his recommendation that got me the bloody marvelous contract.”
“You do? He told you?”
“Not in so many words. He’s been a bit of a fairy-godfather to this gay boy.”

“Perhaps he has a secret desire for you.”
“That’s about as likely as me singing baritone at the royal opera.”
“I can imagine that. Have you tried?”
“Which? To sing baritone, or to get into Marco’s pants?”

“First of all we both know that I hate opera and secondly, I get the feeling that Marco isn’t the type of hombre you’d want to piss off.”
“Really? How so?”
“He’s Sicilian, and you know what that means?”
“Come on, just because he’s from Sicily, it doesn’t necessarily mean he has links to the Mafia.”

“Doesn’t it? I really wouldn’t want to find out. Once you know their secret you’re in their power forever, or you end up floating on the bottom of a river feeding the fish.”
“You’ve been watching too many Godfather movies. Things like that are probably over exaggerated.”
“So you say. Anyway, I’m fucking sure it’s not because he has designs on my milk white ass, that he’s helped me. Or even because he likes the way I flick a paint brush.”

“Why then?”
“I’m not a fool. I have eyes. I see things.”
“And what do you see little grass hopper?”
“I see that the man would like nothing more that to rip off your clothes and insert his fat Sicilian sausage into you hot English reservoir.”

“What a nice turn of phrase you do have.”
“Would you rather I said that he wants to fuck the shit out of you?”
“I’d rather you didn’t say anything at all on the subject. I’m a happily married woman, remember.”
“Noted. But I still maintain that he has a good sized shalong waiting dormant down there. It’s such a shame the good lord made him straight, or I’d definitely love to suck on it, and fondle his big hanging balls.”

“You are disgusting sometimes – do you know that?”
“Yes Ma’am. Disgusting and dirty and feeling decidedly horny. Do you know I haven’t been rolled over and sodomized in over three weeks?”
“My, you are slipping.”
“It’s all this extra work. If only I’d been born rich, as well as handsome and hung like moose, then I wouldn’t have to toil and slave, and go down on my knees before the man to get ahead. Now, where are we going to eat? Thai? Chinese? Or would you prefer to suck on a rich, thick juicy steak?”
“Are we still talking about food?”
“Now who has a dirty mind?”