Chapter 1

Don Luigi sat uncomfortably on the unpainted weather-beaten restaurant chair intended for the sheep-like tourists that crowded the seaside during the high season for travel.

His domain was well-situated on the leeward side of a deep and protected bay that boasted a long stretch of fine white sand seldom seen in those parts. He stretched his arms and lifted his impressive haunches from the far-too-small chair taken from the stacked multitudes that lined the unshaded villa beachside dining area. His belly was rounded like some young female heavy with child and he felt regret at the many “second-helpings” he had been taking advantage of in the off-season.

Speaking to an unseen audience, he gave himself the advice so typical of his much younger Roman doctor to whom exercise was second nature like breathing or sleeping. The older Luigi considered exercise the curse of some foreign interloper with no concept of the proper use of energy for a specific task.

“Time to start eating more fish and a lot less pasta or your foolish pants will no longer be able to button up properly.”

He looked down and saw that the button was stretched tautly and might be in danger of popping off if he was to bend over or make a sudden movement.

The cleaning lady’s daughter Maria looked over at him like he was some kind of crazy man talking to himself in the lonely empty restaurant. He smiled at the girl and promised his diminishing libido that someday soon he would suggest to her that they join together in carnal explorations. Of course, that depended on the absence of her overly protective mother often out searching for fresh produce in the farmer’s market or discussing the rising prices on the “catch of the day” with the sun-tanned fishermen on the long pier that ran out like a stiff finger into the calm waters of the bay. He was certain the delectable Maria was no longer a virgin because of the way she constantly stroked her unseen curves of flesh under her servant’s apron in a way that suggested she was remembering another man’s touch in the exact same place.

There was no doubt in Don Luigi’s mind that she would agree to his suggestion because he was not an ugly man and was reputed to be extremely generous with young females that offered him the excitement of a quick tumble. He was wise enough to use covert methods to escape the attention of either protective mothers or his shrewd and discerning spouse with her “younger woman” radar working when he was on the loose.

The girl blushed knowing that his ogling eyes were focused on her raised flanks as she scrubbed the tile floor on the patio. Her heart-shaped bottom swaying with each forceful stroke was a target that would become popular with the male guests and cause her mother much anguish during the approaching tourist season. He hoped she was smart enough to keep her daughter well-stocked with the condoms that would keep her from early motherhood and the embarrassment of no spouse to win food for the household. He personally despised the things but knew it was better to give up a certain degree of pleasure to keep his tasty peccadillos in respectable condition whilst they were his employees to forestall any innuendos of improper activities. His no longer amusing reputation was already stained with several embarrassing situations involving naïve young things placed into his hands by unsuspecting mothers.

A car pulled up with a pair of Swedish airline hostesses on a short furlough from the international airport down the coast. They were certainly out of place in the middle of the rustic scenery but would blend in easily once the season was in full swing. He liked the buxom laughing females from the northern regions because they knew no bounds of behavior once their pretty panties were removed for sensuous mid-day copulation. Luigi was ever lucky in such interactions as he was gifted with the ability to talk most strange females out of their undies in a way that convinced the poor women it was their idea and not his suggestion at all.

The scent of their unfamiliar womanhood was all he needed to motivate him into action at a moment’s notice.

Their long legs and shining yellow hair was enough to cause him the delight of a stiffened condition that filled his already tight trousers with swollen expectations.

Fortunately, his wife was still at the market and he was able to seat the two well-fed lovelies at a table that gave him a good view straight up their short skirts. He feasted on the expanse of tanned legs that never seemed to end and a peek at pink panties that looked like they had come from the same package of delicate undies. He speculated that they did not care who had worn the panties last and intermixed them with a degree of pleasure in not knowing where they had rested the night before.

He was certain the girls were teasing him because they found so many reasons to cross and uncross their legs and open their knees for his continued perusal of their inner sanctums of feminine delight.

The elderly waiter with his wrinkled face and tired eyes had seen it all and knew Don Luigi was like a hunting dog focused in on his prey and would soon have both these poor girls flat on their backs on one of the resting couches in the spacious viewing rooms just above their heads. Those rooms all had open views of the glorious shimmering waves gently lapping on the sands with the intensity of a lover seeking the depth of complete and total satisfaction.

The waiter was an old man.

At least, he gave that impression.

Then again, it was difficult to tell with these Tunisian immigrants that seemed to be born with old faces filled with the marks of hopeless despair just waiting for the undertaker to check their pulse before burial. Luigi had never seen the man crack a simple smile and would have been astonished to have heard the sound of his laughter. Everyone called him “Waiter” in several different languages but nobody knew his name and it didn’t seem to bother him because he liked the anonymous nature of his calling and the fact he managed to blend in with little difficulty.