and we lay there, arms and legs intertwined, and cocks resting next to each other. We kissed and fondled and both said things to each other like “God, you’re a great fuck – you’re the best there ever was or could be!” – stuff like that. And eventually, we both dozed off.

I woke up, and I thought I was holding him, but when I came fully awake I realized I was just holding a pillow that smelled like him. I looked around and saw a note pinned to the lampshade – “I went out to get breakfast – be back in a few – Marco.” I got up, and took care of my morning piss-hard-on, and got dressed, and scribbled a note of my own on his – “I went to the hotel – I’ll be back in a few – hold breakfast for me and don’t go anywhere!”

I practically ran to the hotel, taking note of Marco’s apartment number and street address - his place was only about two blocks up a small side street from the steak house, and the steak house was only about three blocks up the main street from the hotel, so it was not like I could get lost. I called Tom’s and my room from the lobby house phone, and again got no answer. I hurried into the elevator, and went up to the room. My two small bags were exactly where I left them, but there was no sign of Tom – nor, thankfully, of his mother. It didn’t look like either bed was slept in, so he probably spent the night in her room. Good riddance, I thought – he could do that for the rest of his life, as far as I was concerned. I left him a note on hotel stationery – “Going out for the day – will talk to you later. Shane” – I did not say, notice, “I’ll SEE you later” – I had other plans.

I grabbed my bags, and did not wait for the elevator, being half afraid of meeting Tom and his mother. I ran down the stairs – only four flights – and peeked out of the stairwell door to make sure the lobby was clear. It was, and I made a beeline out of that hotel like I was a burglar getting away clean – which, in a sense, I was.

I hurried back to Marco’s, and he was there, at the kitchen table, with a worried expression on his face. Seeing my bags, his expression changed to one of puzzlement. “What’s up, Shane?” he asked, his clear blue eyes piercing me clean through.

“Well”, I began tentatively, suddenly unsure of my ground – “If it’s ok, I’d like to stay with you for a few days – just the weekend. Only if it’s all right.”

Marco’s worried expression turned to one of pure, radiant joy, like the sun rising over the Tuscan hills. He jumped up from the table and grabbed me in a bear hug, and kissed me hard and full on the mouth, and breathed in