"The Piccolo Mondo," she offered.He smiled, switching to Italian. "Yes. That is very nice, but expensive ... I know of a little restaurant that serves...drinks and a nice dinner. I get off at six. Want to meet around seven?" Sounds great," I said. We got directions.Fiorella arched her brows. We shook his hand again and left him smiling. We walked into the Piazzetta."So, when did we start liking boys?" she asked."He is a magician. A Hermetic. Goes to school in Padua." Really?" Yes. And he likes to. Stepping out whilst still wet, he adored thetingling feeling from the removal of the last vestiges of hair growththat he had not managed to shave off that morning. Stepping into theluxuriously hot bath, he added a generous handful of Chanel number 19bath oil and felt his soft smooth skin as it absorbed the sensualodours.His hair was long-enough to experiment with styles, but he had noticedadvertisements in Christine's women's magazines showing temporary haircolourants. He had bought three in. More

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