Love's Last Kiss
Copyright© 2024 by Duleigh
Chapter 20
Romance Sex Story: Chapter 20 - Steve Anderson knew it was wrong to fall in love with Maria D'Amato, his patient who was twice his age, but it happened and before he knew it, his life spiraled into directions that he never realized existed. There were secrets they withheld from each other, and one of those secrets cost Maria her life. Now Steve must find a way to protect her daughter without falling in love with her, too.
Caution: This Romance Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Consensual Romantic Heterosexual Fiction Crime Workplace Cream Pie First Oral Sex Sex Toys Violence
A cobalt blue Fiat 500X wove through the Italian countryside. Alfeo has driven this trip before. He avoided the highways and stayed on the country roads and avoided the towns because the countryside was so beautiful. Florida was so dreadfully flat and if you want to go enjoy a forest, you had to drive up to Georgia. His Lufthansa flight from JFK in New York to Marco Polo Airport in Venice took 10 hours. Then from Venice he took the E55 northeast to Portogruaro, where he turned northwest toward Azzano Decimo.
He turned off the main highway and up that narrow winding road that ducked under the ancient Roman aqueduct that still carried water into Pordenone and headed to a small villa halfway between Pordenone and Aviano. Just outside of the village of Nogheredò was the ancient Gronchi family villa. It was still inhabited by his uncle Giotto, who was a judge in the Friuli-Venezia Giulia region of Italy.
Alfeo drove up the single lane road, avoiding bicyclists and sheep until he got to the Villa. He pulled in and looked at Uncle Giotto’s prized possession, an actual Roman column. It was beautiful, and it was one of those things where saying, “Where did it come from?” could be dangerous to your health.
“Hello Alfeo,” said Fiore Baldini, Uncle Giotto’s housekeeper. “How long will you be with us?” Her tone of voice expressed little joy at seeing Giotto’s stupid American nephew.
“I don’t know Signora Baldini, I needed to get away. The head priest of the church I was deacon at died during confession,” Alfeo sighed sadly. “I had to get away to clear my head.”
“Shouldn’t be hard, there’s not much in that head to clear,” Fiore muttered under her breath.
“Pardon? I didn’t hear what you said.”
“I said give me a few moments to get your old room ready for you.” And the old woman shuffled off.
When she had left, Alfeo found an empty wine bottle and a half pint glass, and grabbed a cork from a box of corks in the kitchen, then stepped out back. Just outside of the kitchen was a 200 liter barrel of wine. Uncle Giotto and his guests and staff would drink that in a year, which was not unusual. In this region, water was for washing and for goats, wine is what was drank. Alfeo topped off the bottle he carried, corked it, and sat at a café table and looked at the distant Alps and sipped his glass of wine.
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