“Ca-va?” she said, inclining her head towards me as I walked, stiffly into the sparsely furnished, stifling hot living room, unsure of the current...value of my stock. “Fine thanks,” I replied taking the long glass of cloudy, aniseed-smelling liquid that was proffered. I was already five minutes late for Silvia. She would be sitting in a bar on the village square, probably dressed classily in a floaty, summer slip, sipping wine and smoking cigarettes. Almost certainly a smattering of the local. Turning the key in the lock, I opened the door, turned and waved good-bye to the driver and walked into the cool interior of the rustic log cabin. A late afternoon sunbeam from the west window, cast itself across the table, highlighting a massive bouquet of fresh cut flowers. Their scent filled the room, complimenting another hint of a masculine fragrance. That was it, I could smell after shave, the pine trees, and the damp wetness of the forest floor. It blended in such a way that my heart. More

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