The Italian Read online T.L. Swan

Categories Genre: Angst, Romance Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 163
Estimated words: 163540 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 818(@200wpm)___ 654(@250wpm)___ 545(@300wpm)
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I open the lid of the clothes hamper and peer inside. There’s a lone pair of my panties sitting in the bottom. I reach in and dig them out. I did not put these in here.

I carefully inspect them… they’re dirty. These were in my suitcase with my other clothes that needed to be washed.

I look around the bathroom, knowing something is off here.

My eyes widen at once. What the fuck? Was Sergio in here jerking off to the smell of my dirty panties?

Is that what he was doing upstairs?

A cold shiver runs through me. No… surely not.

I drop to a sit on the bed—dirty panties in hand. This is fucking weird.

What guy would go into his boss’s bedroom and jerk off to his boss’s girlfriend’s panties?

My phone rings. It’s Natalie.

“Hey, how did you go?”

“Oh my God, I have to get this job. The guy who interviewed me is fucking orgasmic.”

I smile as I look down at the panties in my hand. “Really?”

“He looked like Elvis. Love me tender, baby.”

I burst out laughing. “You’re hilarious. What did he say?”

“He said he’s going to call me tonight and let me know if I got it.”

“Great. How do you think it went?”

“Good, I guess. When I wasn’t imagining myself sucking his dick under the table.”

I shake my head as I laugh. “Tell me I’m crazy over here. I need you to talk me off the ledge.” I close my bedroom door and go into the bathroom so that nobody can hear us.

She laughs. “No, I can’t do that. You are completely mental.”

“Listen, do you remember the other night when I told you that a guy asked me for my number, and then he said ‘I have to go, my boss is here’ and his boss was Enrico?” I whisper.

“Yeah.”

“Well, he turned up here today to work, and his name is Sergio.”

“At the house in Como?”

“Yes, and he was giving me the look.”

“What look?”

“You know. The fucking look.”

“There are a lot of looks. I need specifics.”

“Like the I think you’re hot kind of look.”

“That’s a given. All guys give that look. They’re horny fucktards.”

I nod. This is true. “I got home early today, and the gate was being fixed, so I walked up the driveway by myself. When I came in, Sergio came out from upstairs.”

“Who?”

“The fucking guy I just told you about,” I whisper.

“He was inside your house?”

“Yes—said he was checking the shutters or some shit.”

“Okay, so?”

I look around guiltily. “I just came into the en-suite bathroom and the lubricant is out on the side, and my dirty panties are in the basket. I didn’t put them there.”

“Get fucked,” she whispers. “You think you interrupted him jerking off to your panties?”

“I… I don’t know,” I stammer. “Maybe?”

She gasps.

“I know,” I whisper.

“Oh, I know this is appalling for you, but that’s so fucking hot. Send him my way, I do love a kinky man.”

“What?” I whisper. “That’s not fucking hot, Natalie, that’s creepy.”

“How do you smell?” she asks. “I hope they smell good. Sniff them and see.”

I burst out laughing. “Will you be serious for one minute, please?” I look around again. “And, of course I smell good… I hope.”

“I’m sure Mr. Ferrara will love the thought of his staff sniffing your vag.”

I put my head into my hands and laugh. This really does sound ridiculous.

“Maybe I got it wrong.” I frown.

“Enrico could have put them there,” she offers as an explanation.

“I guess.”

“It is random.” she adds.

“It is random, isn’t it?”

“Completely.”

I drag my hand down my face. My imagination is running wild. “Okay, I’m going to go work out and do something useful.”

“Wash your undies.”

I laugh. “Yeah, that too. Bye. Call me if you get the job.”

“Okay, see you.”

It’s just after 5:00 p.m. when I walk into the house from the backyard. I’ve been keeping myself busy and trying not to imagine someone creeping around our bedroom, dick in hand. I’ve run on the treadmill, done our washing, and now I’m about to cook dinner. Antonia wanted to cook, but I told her I would like to cook.

Fuck this. I want a home not a football stadium. Things are changing around here.

I pour myself a glass of wine and take the chicken out of the fridge. I begin to chop it up. On a serious note, I really need to learn how to cook some good Italian food.

And speak Italian…

And do every fucking thing in Italian.

If I prepare dinner now it will give me a chance to freshen up before my man gets home.

There is so much to do and learn. God, this day is overwhelming.

The doorbell rings throughout the house.

I wash my hands, grab a tea towel, and walk out into the living area. It rings again.

I open the door to see a beautiful woman standing there. She’s wearing a tight camel- colored dress, with sky-high stilettos. Her long dark hair is styled and glamorous. Her rich perfume is overwhelming.


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