Home of The Naughty Stories Series
Tony was born in Winchester, Hampshire. His father was a businessman, author and publisher of books, and his mother a theatrical actress, giving him a life-long love of books, theatre and story-telling. A graduate of Edinburgh University, Tony has trodden the line between liberal arts and technology through spells in the music industry, television and digital innovation. Apart from his own books, he writes under the aliases F. M. Frites and M. T. Sands.
Maggio went out walking with her blind husband, Gennaio, in the garden with the pear tree where she had arranged to meet her lover, Damiano. As they approached the pear tree, she expressed a desire to eat a piece of fruit. “What I wouldn’t give for a nice pear now!” “Tesoro, do let me climb …
Sabi had been away on business in the north. When she got to Raff’s place, he was out, so she phoned him on his mobile. “Where are you, amore?” “At the Poly. – Where are you?” “Sitting on your bed.” “With or without your undies?” “Porco[1], when are you coming home?” Sabi hung up. As …
Jerry was indeed a handsome man, and not only that, he had whiff of rakish class about him. The devil-may-care smile, the mop of unruly but not untidy hair, the loafers and the tailor-made blazer with the funky silk lining. He was working his way through a whisky at the bar while wryly batting away …
That Tiberius – according to the lost annals of Tacitus – had the reputation for unimaginable debauchery and licentiousness was due, in no small part, to his scribe, Lucius. Recalled to Rome from his exile in Capri, after the death of his stepfather, Augustus, who he had always disliked for his moral insincerity, the new …
A Little Bit of Chelsea in Essex One summer Laura went on a budget holiday to Spain with her girlfriend, June. As soon as they left Essex, they started drinking with some Chelsea boys in the airport bar and nearly missed the plane. The holiday was a real lark. June found a Chelsea shirt to …
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, …
Jamal and Raif lugged the huge item back to the shop. “What in heaven’s name have you got there?” asked their father. “A giant teapot!” they exclaimed proudly. “Why?” said their father. “We had to buy it – it is so cool!” answered Jamal. “Oh really?” said his father. “How much?” “Um -” “HOW much?” …
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, …
A rich merchant by the name of Mercutio was called away on business during the early winter months. When snow began to fall on the ground, the mountain pass became blocked, causing delay to Mercutio’s return. On his return Mercutio found his wife had taken to her bed. “What is the matter, my love? Are …
He saw her through the crowd. How unusually attractive, he thought, alone but confident, not quite part of the scene, but detached, perhaps amused by it all. They spoke briefly. She smiled at him and they wandered outside. “What do you do?” “I am a writer.” “That is absurd but romantic nonetheless. I don’t know …