It`s time for Tuesday Tales.
Today we have an excerpt from Reflections of Cypress, Love’s Journeys #2. This week I’m using some of the pictures that I took while in Florence to help spur your imaginations while reading the excerpt. If you ever get the chance to visit Italy I strongly suggest you go. I cannot wait to go back! You will not regret a moment spent there.
Please do bear in mind that these snippets are unedited so please be kind if you find any mistakes.
This story may have gay erotic scenes, strong social issues addressed and mature language. If those things offend now is the time to move onto another Tuesday Tales blog. Thanks for stopping by!
Uncaring who might see, we held hands, Donvino looking far less tight than usual. Perhaps it was the sheer crush of people in such a small area, but he gripped my fingers tightly, possessively even, and I ate it up. We strolled along, both of us too poor to really do much shopping other than to grab something to drink to replenish the fluids the miserable heat drained out of us. It was ungodly hot and dry, the drought now starting to worry government officials and those who grew things such as olive farmers.
I’d been sent emails from my aunt and father from people who worked under them bemoaning the lack of rain and how it was going to impact harvests. There was little to do other than pray, and my aunt did that every Sunday to no avail. Seemed God would grant her his ear after all the money she donated to the church. Guess the guy in the sky didn’t dance to her pipe playing. He was the only one.
“Ah listen,” Donvino gasped, tugging me through throngs of people gathered in the street about a block from the Cathedral of Santa Maria Del Fiore, the glorious building just visible if one peeked around a man singing in the street. “How beautiful is he?”
We stopped along with a few dozen other people to enjoy a powerfully built man in a long-sleeved shirt and faded jeans, singing opera. I leaned into Donvino, just a little, and his fingers tightened on my hand.
“What is he saying?” I asked of my date. Yes, we were calling this a date. Our first date. I hoped it ended in a kiss or two or twenty.
“He is singing ‘Nessun Dorma’ which many know from Pavarotti singing,” he said, the crowds pushing in closer as people tossed money into the singers upside-down top hat. “A Puccini song. Uhm.. he sings nobody shall sleep even you, oh princess.”
“Who is the princess?” I asked, enjoying the moment and the song.
“I’m not sure. I’m not so big on opera. My music is more modern but perhaps Signora would know? She is benefactor to the arts.”
“Yeah, maybe.” We tossed a few coins into his hat then moved on, taking selfies by the hundreds, posing with each other, with horses pulling buggies, and with artists who would draw our likenesses for just a few Euros.
©Copyright V.L. Locey 2024