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- Herausgeber: Berlinable GmbH
- Kategorie: Erotik
- Serie: Italian Summer
- Sprache: Englisch
- Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2021
Art history student Eddie's adventures in Italy continue in the second installment of this holiday romance. His sexy former thesis advisor Luc continues as his guide on this revelatory trip to Florence. In the galleries, Eddie finds a reflection of himself, and seeks guidance on his path. He is struck by a notion of impermanence, a feeling of longing to hold these moments, this man, forever. As they tour the city's great works of art, Luc continues his study of the statues. Standing before the David, admiring the famous statue's magnificence, Eddie has a revelation - the one that Luc seemingly brought him here to have. Trouble is brewing with their moody holiday companions, but the pair frolic in the pool regardless, and over phenomenal food, wine and scenery, all is right by the time dessert is served.
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ITALIAN SUMMER
Episode 2
Nathaniel Feldmann
Artcover: Karolina Golis
Copyright: BERLINABLE GMBH
Berlinable invites you to leave all your fears behind and dive into a world where sex is a tool for self-empowerment.
Our mission is to change the world - one soul at a time.
When people accept their own sexuality, they build a more tolerant society.
Words to inspire, to encourage, to transform.
Open your mind and free your deepest desires.
All rights reserved. It is not permitted to copy, distribute or otherwise publish the content of this eBook without the express permission of the publisher. Subject to changes, typographical errors and spelling errors. The plot and the characters in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to dead or living people or public figures is not intended and are purely coincidental.
The Tuscan sun announced “Buongiorno!” to the tune of bells and birds and the consistent chatter of tourists flooding the streets. Our second day in Florence.
The Piazza della Signoria was drowned in a golden richness of an age long gone and yet here we were, ready to see all the sights. Sweat dripped down my brow. So early in the day and already the oppressive July heat had cast dark marks at our armpits.
I took the shot of espresso at the bar. It was cheaper this way, and as our guide had insisted, it was how Italians took their coffee in the morning.
“Hurry up!” Alexei insisted, his Russian accent tinted already with a trace of Italian after ordering with a flourish of his hands. “We must get in line now if we’re going to make it to every museum.”
Luc rolled his eyes as he tossed back what was left of his coffee, a man with a penchant to sip, to savor, something that remained of his French that I admired and adopted. If only we were in Paris at a café, cigarettes in hand, lingering. But no. We had to get going. A smile spread across his face as he swallowed, his elbows rubbing mine.
“Come on, let’s not make him any more anxious,” he whispered, hopeful his friend didn’t pick up the remark.
My hands shook as I abandoned the small glass, but I was probably just excited. Our day was set to begin at the Uffizi, and continue on to Il Bargello, the Galleria dell'Accademia. In these museums, we were bound to see the masters of the Renaissance, to witness the glories of a golden age..
I picked up the pace as Luc waited at the center of the piazza, sunglasses on, his palm open, reaching out for mine. Although warm, sweaty, his hand tugged me along in assurance, as if he wouldn’t want to tour the city in any other way. He was meant to be here with me, a teacher and his student. I still had much to learn beyond the textbook, and Luc had the knowledge to share.
Stuck together, yet slippery, he led me into the shade of the towering Palazzo Vecchio, the old city hall. We paused at the door where a David stood.
“He once towered over this square,” Luc said, not looking at me, but at the statue, speaking as if he were betrayed by the copy. “But they moved him indoors to protect his beauty.”
“They only have this one here for tourists who are too cheap to see it for real,” Alexei butted in, his body replacing the imitation in our eyeline.
“Looks just as hot to me,” Cem muttered off to the side, tapping his foot, his loose-fitting shirt billowing in a non-existent breeze.
Alexei huffed. “Let’s get going already.”
