Venice, February 1996

Gabriella kept a diary, in which she had recorded all of her sexual exploits. She had invented a code early on to prevent people understanding what she was doing if it fell into the wrong hands. A blowjob was 1, a tit-fuck 2, a regular vaginal fuck 3, anal 4 and a pussy-licking 5. (She later added a 6 for a handjob, but rarely used it). A zero before the number meant that she had come. A zero after meant the man had. Thus 15 meant a bout of 69, and 1005 meant that both people had come. Laura picked up the code and found it useful in talking to Gabriella about sex without giving the game away. When Gabriella would say in a public place "Fancy some 5050?" no-one would realise that she was suggesting some mutual pussy licking.

"You lucky cow! I was about to go back to our room when Angelo told me he was going off with some actress he'd met who had effectively propositioned him. Well, there I was without even a pussy to lick. So I went and found one of the waiters -- you probably remember him, the blonde one with the floppy hair? I asked him if there was any champagne left, and told him to bring a bottle up to Angelo's room.

By the time he arrived I'd got out of my dress and just had on the stockings and garter belt, heels and mask. He was obviously impressed. He made some weak excuse and asked where Angelo was, but I told him just to shut up and open the bottle. When he did, I went into a shoulder-stand and told him to pour some into my pussy and lick it out. The wine went everywhere and it was cold, but at least he managed to make me come. I then got his trousers down, poured some champagne over him and sucked him for a bit. He wasn't very big, and I was going to suggest the back door route but he didn't really deserve my arse -- he was such a wimp. So I got him to fuck me doggy style, but he came too quickly and I had to use my own fingers to get off! My own fingers!!" She sounded outraged.

"So I kicked him out around 2. Anyway, at about 3:30, Angelo comes back in, and he's not in a good mood. He says to me 'Gabriella, is your arse ready?' Just like that! Not 'Ah, my darling Gabriella, have you missed me? Have you been lonely without me? Come here and let me hold you, sweetie.' No, none of that, just 'is your arse ready?' I told him I was clean (I'd douched it before the waiter arrived, just in case) but not lubed, and asked him what was wrong. He just said that the actress had refused him her tightest hole, claimed she was sore after only two fucks and was rubbish at blow jobs, so he had a hard-on like a telegraph pole and needed somewhere tight to stick it. 'And the tightest place I know is your little arse, my dear', he said. Well that was the nicest thing he said to me all evening, 'cos he then just pushed me over the end of the bed, stuck the lube tube up my bum and squeezed it -- Holy Mary it was cold -- then without another word shoved his cock in."

Gabriella was clearly into her subject and Laura could not even get a word in. "Well, you know me. I normally love it up the arse, but even with a lot of clit play it was a good 15 minutes before I came. Fortunately, Angelo wasn't far behind or I would have been too sore to move this morning. I suppose it was nice afterwards -- he finally did hold me close and was gentle and soothing and all that, but I did feel used, and not in a good way. I need you to get back here and share his cock, and make sure he doesn't go chasing after some other tart who'll leave him frustrated, or my arse is going to be worn out!"

"Sweetie, I'll be over later, but I'm a bit busy right now." She eyed David's lean body, fresh from the shower and with a hardening cock, and felt her mouth go dry and her pussy start to get wet. "If you're very good, I may bring you a present".

"Look, bitch. Angelo and me are having lunch at Ruffino's in San Marco, at 1:30. You can bring your little fuck toy with you if you like, but Angelo needs to see you again - probably with the boy, so that he gets jealous enough to realise what he needs and starts treating me right. Be there, or I'll never lick your pussy again!" The phone went dead.

Ruffino's was busy when they arrived. The plush, elegant Venetian interior was full of people, many in Carnivale costume, wanting to see and be seen. Mindful of this, in addition to the myriad of round tables in the centre, along the walls there were more private alcoves where diners could perhaps people-watch whilst retaining a modicum of their own privacy.

Angelo had, of course, managed to find a very secluded table in an alcove well away from the brash, "must be seen" crowds nearer the door. Laura had a momentary pang of jealousy when she saw the expressions on both Gabriella's and David's faces when they caught sight of each other; a hunger she realised must have been evident in her own face last night.

A smiling Angelo stood up and greeted her warmly, with an embrace and a kiss on the lips. As he turned to embrace David and shake his hand, Gabriella also got up, hugged Laura and kissed her quite passionately on the lips. "Now I see why you were out all night, you little whore!" she whispered in Laura's ear.

"Keep your hands off him, you tart! He's mine!" Laura whispered fiercely back.

"OK, I won't use my hands" Gabriella retorted.

"Gabriella, Laura, stop that whispering. Gabriella, say hello to David and let's sit down and eat -- I'm starving!" Angelo had his usual benign expression, but there was a slight edge to his voice. He ushered Laura into the booth first, opposite Gabriella, and then seated David opposite himself. He seemed eager to talk to the young man, though once seated, he leaned across the table towards her. "So, Laura." As always, he pronounced her name as if it almost rhymed with 'flower'. "Did you enjoy last night?" He arched an eyebrow, then cast a glance at David.

She refused to rise to his bait. "I thought the exhibition was fun at first, but it became boring pretty quickly. Too many dull, rich people who seemed more interested in ogling me than admiring my work."

"You shouldn't complain. Those 'dull, rich people', as you call them, have made us both a lot richer today. How much do you think we took for your work?"

"Oh, around $8,000 I think."

"Think again. Closer to nineteen"

"Nineteen thousand dollars? How? I mean..." She was aghast.

"After you left I sold two of your large works to a collector from Houston, together with a couple of mine. Gabriella can also take some credit. Some fat German with his tongue hanging out ended up parting with around $3,000 for one of your works, and he didn't even get to squeeze the young lady's delightful tits -- though he spent longer looking at them than at the painting he bought. I also managed to sell around $250,000-worth, so even with the cost of staging the exhibition, I'll probably easily clear two hundred. I was offered another fifty thousand for my two portraits of my delightful muses, but I declined. I found I couldn't bear to part with them. However, I've been given three commissions to paint some more, so as soon as we get back home, I need to get you both into the studio."

The waiter arrived, and Angelo scanned the menu and made his usual recommendations -- he always seemed to know what was best at any restaurant he frequented. They ordered, and Angelo called for champagne, a good Barolo and 2 bottles of San Pellegrino. He then turned to David and asked him about himself, his studies and how he was enjoying himself in Venice. David was polite and obviously seemed a bit overawed at sitting at a table in an expensive restaurant, discussing art with a famous artist. Somehow he managed to avoid ogling Gabriella, who as usual was flaunting her tits to the world in one of her wardrobe of tight, low-cut tops.

Gabriella and Laura continued their earlier conversation in hushed whispers. As usual, Gabriella wanted to know every sordid detail, and Laura, feeling very pleased with herself (especially as she was still a little moist -- and sore -- from a further energetic fuck that morning) kept her friend amused. However, she was still a little wary. She guessed that the fiery Italian was not above stealing an attractive guy from her arms -- or in this case, from between her legs -- if he was handsome enough and Gabriella was sufficiently hungry. Looking at her friend's expression, Laura could see that her friend was ravenous -- and not just for food.

The meal came and went, with several courses of excellent food and some similarly-memorable wine, whilst Angelo seemed to be deep in conversation with David. After an hour or so, David got up to use the toilet, and once he had gone, Laura asked Angelo about his interest in her new friend.

"Laura my dear, I wanted to find out more about the boy, to see whether he was suitable".

"I didn't think he was your type."

"Well, you know," he said in the matter-of-fact tone he often used when winding her up, "I've had boys before, though I much prefer girls -- it gives you a wider choice of holes. But boys -- the more experienced ones -- usually give better blow jobs. Of course, if you have a girl -- or two -- that you've trained yourself, then you may find that they're even better." He smiled at her expression -- she was used to his little games and put on an air of bored tolerance. "But no, my interest in him is not sexual -- at least not for me -- but rather finding out what sort of a man he is and whether he will be good or bad for my Laura."

"So you're not jealous?"

"Jealous? Why should I be? I have enjoyed you in almost every possible way over these past two years. You have learned much, though I think you still have more to learn, and if you choose to leave me now for this pretty boy, I would consider it a privilege to have had the use of your body and your mind. It is your life to lead, and I am just one of many teachers you will encounter on your journey, as you -- and Gabriella -- are among my teachers."

He leaned a little closer, and his tone became more serious. "However, Laura, I would be on your guard. This boy claims a lot of things, but I do not believe him. He says he's here on an art scholarship from his college. He knows nothing of the great classical painters -- he barely knows Leonardo or Michelangelo, let alone Bellini, Fra Angelico, Caravaggio or the rest. He says that his background is in the modern schools, but when I ask him to talk about works he loves, he has no understanding of any of them -- Dali, Picasso and so on - and seems largely unaware of people like Giacometti, Klee, Mondrian, Ernst, Pollock, Calder, even that fraud Rothko. He is very vague about his parents and where their money comes from, and although he claims to be studying at UCLA, he has only a sketchy knowledge of the campus. I gave some lectures there a few years ago, and I know more about it than he does. Laura, my dear, I think the boy is a fraud. A pretty one, I grant you, but a fake nonetheless."

Laura was dumbstruck. "You're only saying this because you don't want an attractive man to fuck me!" she blurted out. Her voice was a little louder than she had intended, and several people on nearby tables looked round at them.

"No Laura," he replied patiently, "as far as I am concerned, you, Gabriella and I can fuck who we like and it's no business of anyone else. What I don't want is for you to become attached to someone who is no good for you. Everything we do in life is a lesson, but I really care for you and I would prefer yours to be positive ones, not regrets. I get a bad feeling about this boy, so fuck him as much as you like, but don't fall in love with him."

"Angelo, I'm not going to fall in love with him. He's just a pretty fuck" she said, remembering this time to lower her voice, even though her tone was earnest.

"You really believe that? When I saw your face, the way you held hands when you entered the restaurant, the looks you exchanged -- no, you are already besotted with this boy and half-way in love, and I'm worried that he will use you. He is focusing entirely on you. You may not think that's a bad thing, but I can read the signs. Gabriella is flaunting her tits at him, and he has barely given her a second glance. Why is that, do you think?"

"It's because he only fancies me!" Laura replied, a little wounded.

"No. He fancies Gabriella as well, as any man with a cock would, but he's putting on an act so you'll believe that he's devoted to you. It's an act, my dear Laura. Please, be on your guard!"

When David returned to the table, the atmosphere seemed a little cooler. Gabriella kept trying to flirt, and dropping hints that she knew what he and Laura had been up to; "It was a bit cold out on the balcony last night, I believe," and "It's hard to be discreet at Carnivale time. Sometimes you just have to slip in through the back door," but apart from a raised eyebrow, David didn't react. However, glancing down at David's lap, Laura was sure he had a serious hard-on. Whether that was from the memories of last night that Gabriella was stirring up or the full-on assault from the brunette's eyes, lips and tits that he was experiencing, she couldn't tell. She was just glad that her friend and her new lover -- did she really think that word? -- were not sitting opposite each other, or she felt sure that he would by now be experiencing caresses of that swollen organ under the table from Gabriella's hand or surprisingly-flexible foot.

Eventually, she made her excuses and she and David went back to his hotel. Angelo told her to be back at the hotel in two days to pack her things as they were returning to the Villa. In the meantime, he gave her a thick wad of Lira notes - 'an advance on your earnings from the exhibition' -- and told her to buy some new clothes. "You look a little out of place in the cocktail dress. And hire a proper Carnivale costume if you can still find one. I got one for Gabriella so she wouldn't be walking around half-naked, but she doesn't seem to want to wear it."

She and David returned to the hotel, and spent the rest of that day and most of the night having sex. At times they were wild and passionate, at others soft and romantic. It was sublime. David then suggested they should go back to LA so he could resume his studies, and maybe she could paint and sell some of her work in the chi-chi galleries in Venice Beach and Carmel. By the following morning, she had decided. Despite Angelo's misgivings, she was going to the USA with her dream boy.