Paulo’s Inferno

So absorbed with himself was Paulo that he didn’t even notice that, although the mirrors were set at all angles in the room, the only visage to be seen in them was his own.

After Paulo had eaten and Giovanni had offered him brandy in the comfortable chairs before the fire and chatted with him in depth on the intricacies of the new world of auto mechanics while he watched Paulo drink deeply of the brandy, Giovanni led Paulo to a richly appointed bedchamber. There a huge, thick-postered canopied poster bed was positioned in the center of the room on a plush oriental carpet. The bed was draped in heavy, ruby-red damask panels, which Giovanni let down as soon as Paulo had stripped himself on request and settled himself in the bed. The fire had been dying as they had entered the room, and with the drapes drawn around the bed, Paulo was completely enveloped in darkness.

The journey had been long, and he had gorged himself on rich food and strong drink. So, Paulo stretched out on the bed on his belly and quickly dozed off.

He awoke to a tongue flicking along the side of his neck. The thin, but tightly muscled body of another man was stretched on top of him, the man’s legs stretched on top of his, and his strong hands holding Paulo’s wrists in long, sensuous fingers, their thumbs on Paulo’s pulse, enabling both lovers to enjoy ever-more-rapid beat signaling Paulo’s arousal.