Home of The Naughty Stories Series
Says Giorgio, bar owner: “The Count is my oldest friend. We met at the liceo. For the first year we did not say hello. Then it was just a question of deciding who was the ragno (spider) and who was the mosca (fly). At the end of liceo, I like to think we called it quits. But, if you want my opinion, I don’t think he will ever settle down.” The Count’s stories include: The Spider and the Cellist, The Statue, The Wimple, Laziness, and Dust and Drapery.
Chevalier de Seingult[1] had a saying that an affair consisted of four acts. The first act was like the entrée or solicitation, the second act was like a further hors d’oeuvre in anticipation of the primo and the secondo. Of course, these culinary metaphors were not always appropriate. In the case of Signorina Teresa Imer, …
Writers’ conferences always brought out the most bookish of folk, reflected Axel. Then he bumped into Lulu. They chatted genially about Gunter Grass and blogging, Georg Pabst and, funnily enough, Jonathan Livingston Seagull, when she dropped the unexpected. “Thing is, my father was a donor. I was brought up by two women.” A throw-away line, …
Here is a strange case of agalmatophilia concerning a gardener who worked on the estate of a rich Umbrian noble. One day, the lady of the house happened to see the gardener as he was tending one of the rose bushes in the high walled garden that could be seen from her dressing room. Among …
After taking early retirement from his job on the council, at fifty, Gregorio was beginning to feel that nothing very much was going on in his life. One evening, on a whim, and while his wife was away on business, he arranged to meet his ex. They had not seen each other for more than …
It had been raining all day long in Venice when the penitent stepped inside the confessional and sneezed. “Bless you, child.” The penitent was silent. “Child, do you have a confession?” “Padre,” said the penitent, “I do not have much time. I left the brodo on the boil. No one is at home to skim …
The Count was on his death bed with his whole life before him. While he saw clearly his many faults and weaknesses, when the priest was summoned, he had no desire to speak to him. “I see your heart is heavy, figliolo.” “My heart may be heavy,” said the Count, “But it is light with …
Writers’ conferences always brought out the most bookish of folk, reflected Axel. Then he bumped into Lulu. They chatted genially about Gunter Grass and blogging, Georg Pabst and, funnily enough, Jonathan Livingston Seagull, when she dropped the unexpected. “Thing is, my father was a donor. I was brought up by two women.” A throw-away line, …
Nicknamed the Ragno, or Spider, Guido was the innkeeper of a notorious tavern. For a fee husbands and blackmailers could make use of the spider holes that had been fashioned in the bucolic scenes and the taxidermist’s dreams that hung on the walls of the chambers. Guido made no secret of his enjoyment of such …
When he arrived with his wife at the clinic in Valencia, Lorenzo was understandably anxious. His wife, however, was in a buoyant mood. “Lore’,” she whispered. “Mi piace questo posto. È molto pulito! Very clean! Sono molto disponibili. Very professional.” She smiled as the nurse handed her the information pack with the white crest of …
Paola could feel the tension churning within her as they drove through the village to Giovanni’s family home. The housekeeper was out to greet them and help Giovanni with Paola’s bags. “Come sta? How is she?” “She’s awake. She finished her lunch. Buonasera, Signorina.” Paola smiled back. The house was set well back from the …