Marcello

After talking with Marco for almost an hour and I give myself a break and take a few calls. I cross the salon and find Elsa emerging from the toilet. She adjusts the top of her suit, giving me a flash of nearly an entire globe of flesh, and lust gathered in my groin. When did she change into the black bikini suit?

“Wait,” I bark as she starts for the pool area.

Hand flying to her chest, she spins to face me. “Fuck. You scared the shit out of me.”

That dirty mouth. Most Italian women don’t curse like this woman, and I am not sure if I...