He shook his head quickly, making his long brown hair shake around him. Falling back down to his shoulders like silk strands where it settles again. ...ace was a relatively tall guy, standing at five feet, eleven inches. He had dark brown eyes which were almost glossy, ‘Bedroom eyes’ as his mother had once said. His usual attire was a pair of dark blue denim jeans, black socks that go just past his ankles, black runners with blue laces, a black shirt with the words ‘Believe in yourself, should. I did nothing to stay him. I found myself clutching his waist, helping him to go into position. I had dreamed of him; I had dreamed of the houseboys. But I had made no move on any of them before. The houseboys were only fourteen, although Lorenzo had laughed and said that was the age of consent here in Italy. Federico was Lorenzo’s amante maschile and had been for three years, I had been informed. And Lorenzo was my host, and, at the moment, my collaborator. I could not be doing this with his. More

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