Labbia
Marley Quinn
Labbia
by Marley Quinn
Copyright Information
Labbia
by Marley Quinn
© 2026 Marley Quinn
All rights reserved.
Author: Marley Quinn
Email: marleyquinn.reformist760@passinbox.com
Twitter/X: marleyquinn2000
Telegram: t.me/marleyquin2000
Book cover, illustration: Marley Quinn
Editing, proofreading: Marley Quinn
This e-book, including its portions, is protected by copyright and may not be reproduced, resold, or redistributed without the permission of the author.
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AI Use Disclosure
This story was entirely conceived, written, and edited by a human being without any input from AI whatsoever. The only use of AI tools was in composing the cover artwork and spellchecking the text.
Table of Contents
Copyright Information
AI Use Disclosure
Table of Contents
Amerigo Vespucci
Bella Ragazza
Molto Lontano
Americans Love Their Ice
Classical Beauty
Very In Vogue
Breed True
Little Things That Women Enjoy
Delicious Heat
Go With the Flow
Embers of Desire
I Won’t Tell
Mille Grazie
Leave the Door Open
Retreat
Limited Availability
Our Little Secret
Temple of Venus
Quarry
Do It Just Right
Girlfriend Material
Sly Dog
Sleuthing
Personal Business
Locked and Loaded
Bastards
Road Trip
Andiamo
More European Now
Amante
A Bit Jealous
Fathers
The Context That Counts
Unlovable
Peek Neek
A Man With Confidence
What a Tragedy
May God Forgive Me
Wizard
Lardo
Partner
Wrestling Around
Box of Secrets
Room for Dessert
Tailspin
A Blackmail Thing
My Jaded Heart
Believe
Per Il Signore
To a Better Tomorrow
You Live and You Learn
Scares
End Game
A Dance for the Ages
The Sea of Suffering
Tiny Key
See Through Clouds
Letters
Gloria
Also by Marley Quinn
Amerigo Vespucci
As soon as Laura heard the captain get on the intercom and announce that they would soon be arriving at Amerigo Vespucci Airport in Florence, she grabbed her bag and marched straight to the lavatory.
Once inside, she stripped off her baggy pants to reveal the tight shorts she had been wearing underneath. She spent the next ten minutes putting on make-up, including a bright red shade of lipstick, and then she unbuttoned the top few buttons of her shirt. She then let down her long, wavy hair until it cascaded fetchingly over her shoulders.
Satisfied with her new look, she packed up her bag and returned to her seat, smiling when the man’s eyes next to her went wide once he caught a glimpse of her. Throughout the flight, he had mostly ignored her, but now he was definitely interested, which pleased Laura immensely. Unfortunately, she already knew from overhearing him talk to the woman in the window seat that he was continuing on to Rome. Otherwise, he might’ve been useful.
Nonetheless, Laura wasn’t worried. Italy was full of good-looking, successful men that she could take advantage of. Sure enough, the guy in the booth at passport control had a lovely head of hair and gorgeous olive-colored eyes, and she flirted with him just long enough to be sure that he was into her before giving him a casual wave goodbye and sauntering off toward baggage claim.
Back in the United States, Laura’s mother had argued with her for hours, trying to convince her to bring a suitcase, but Laura knew it was best to travel light. Lugging around a big, clunky piece of baggage just wasn’t going to work, not for what she had in mind anyway. In the end, though, Laura’s mother had insisted, saying that she at least needed a few changes of clothes.
As such, Laura had regretfully ceded to her mother’s demands, at least superficially. Instead of bringing anything she cared about though, Laura had simply dumped in some old rags she’d found in the garage as well as a few other odds and ends like some dusty books from the attic so that her suitcase wouldn’t feel completely empty.
Therefore, while all the other sheep on her flight jostled their way to get a spot in the crowded baggage claim area, Laura went right ahead and made her way toward the exit, a big smile on her face when she emerged into the bright sunshine outside.
Now that she was officially in the country, she removed her blouse completely to reveal a form-hugging crop top. She then slipped her sunglasses down from her head and began looking around for a viable target.
The tourists were immediately obvious as they queued up at the taxi stand. What Laura needed, however, was a local who could give her a ride. The uniformed airport employees were out of the question as they were on duty, and she immediately ruled out the hustlers and scammers who were eyeballing the exiting foreigners like prey.
Laura got plenty of appreciative looks as she wandered up and down the terminal exterior, but she was starting to get frustrated. Just as she was about to give up and spend some of her limited stash of cash to hire a driver, she looked over and saw a group of guys getting out of a car in the long-term parking lot and start walking toward the airport. Jackpot!
With her shoulders straight to make her chest more prominent, Laura began wandering around the long-term parking lot, trying to walk purposefully so she wouldn’t draw attention from security. Because this was Europe, many of the makes and models of the vehicles were unfamiliar to her, but it was still pretty easy to tell which ones were expensive and which ones weren’t.
Laura waited until she saw a car driven by a man in his 40s start heading her way, the vehicle curiously small, definitely a bit of an older model, but also well-maintained. She then stepped out in front of it at the right moment, smiling when the driver had to step on the brakes to keep from hitting her.
“Oh, scuzi, scuzi,” said Laura using her limited Italian vocabulary.
The man replied by saying something she couldn’t understand, but that didn’t matter because he was smiling at her in a way she instantly recognized.
“You, um, give me a ride?” said Laura, praying that he knew a little English.
The man, however, kept on jabbering away in Italian, throwing in a few hand gestures here and there for good measure. Nonetheless, she could tell by the way his eyes were roaming up and down her body that she had a live one on the hook.
“I’m going to a town called Senzaregole di Aruzza,” said Laura, speaking slowly and enunciating as best she could. “Can you take me there?”
“Senzaregole di Aruzza?” said the man, followed by more Italian but also some affirmative nods, which was all Laura needed.
“Grazie. Thanks,” said Laura, taking off her pack and getting into the passenger seat.
The man’s eyes went a bit wide with surprise at that, but he made no move to kick her out. Indeed, he seemed quite pleased to have gotten her as a passenger, a big smile on his face as he put the vehicle in gear.
They stopped once at the exit to the parking lot so that the driver could hand over some colored bills, but after that, they were well on their way. After a few stoplights and some city traffic, they left Florence behind and were on a rural highway. Laura grinned as the wind blew through her hair, and she kicked off her shoes, happy to finally be executing her mission.
For years, she had dreamed of the moment where she could get to Italy and enact revenge on the man who had ruined her mother’s life. It hadn’t been easy keeping that secret as she knew her mother wouldn’t approve, and getting the money together to afford such a trip had taken longer than she had expected. But all the planning and strategizing was coming together as the village where that bastard lived was only about a hundred kilometers away.
Laura’s mother had been quite surprised when she told her that she wanted to do an art internship in Florence, which had been the cover story she’d come up with.
There really was an art internship program for English-speaking students in Florence, it’s just that Laura wasn’t about to fork over 5,000 dollars to sit around and dabble with water colors, not when she had a much more important job to complete.
Bella Ragazza
With a little forged paperwork and a fake website she’d convinced this guy Jeremy in her English class to set up for her in exchange for a handjob underneath the bleachers, Laura had convinced her mother that she was ready for her first trip abroad.
After that, it had really been a matter of hustling to earn the cash she needed to pay for everything and doing her research on the village her target lived in so that she could execute her plan with maximum effectiveness. Reading about his achievements and looking at his photographs for hours on end had made her sick, but the look on his face when she destroyed his life would make it all worthwhile.
Laura was jolted out of her memories when the driver reached over to rest his hand on the bare part of her leg.
It wasn’t that he was particularly unattractive or anything as he had a wiry body and his clothes were clean and neatly pressed. It was more that she was eager to get on with her mission. Still, she knew that something like this was inevitably bound to happen, so she decided to see if she could make it worth her while.
“You like pretty girls, huh?” said Laura, giving him a warm smile. “Bella ragazza?”
“Sì sì, bella ragazza,” said the driver, enthusiastically nodding up and down.
“Yes, it’s good. Molto buono, sì?” said Laura, not doing anything to stop him as his hand began moving up and down her leg.
Sure enough, when she glanced over, she could see the bulge in the crotch of the gray checked pants he was wearing. She also saw a golden band around the fourth finger of his hand, but then she remembered that some people in Europe wore marriage rings on the other hand, so she couldn’t be sure of his status, not that it mattered.
“You want to have a good time with this bella ragazza, sì?” said Laura, giving his thigh a little squeeze just in case he couldn’t understand her words.
Sure enough, a few moments later, the driver turned the vehicle off the highway onto a small country lane. He drove about 500 yards until they got to the base of a grassy hill where some sheep were grazing in the distance, and then he cut the engine.
“Looks like someone is ready to play,” said Laura with a grin as she hopped out of the car.
The man, to his credit, wasted no time in exiting the vehicle, the little tent pole in his crotch all the proof she needed that he was ready to play.
“A hundred euros, okay? Cento euro?” said Laura, being sure to enunciate the number as best as she could.
At that, he looked puzzled, as if he thought a beautiful young thing like her was going to give it up for free to some random guy just because he gave her a lift. She watched him carefully, looking for signs that he might try to overpower her, her hand stealing over to the special tactical pen she had in the back pocket of her shorts.
But then he nodded, taking his wallet out of his pants and showing her a bright green bill. He was too far away to be able to read the number, but she recognized the color from her research, so it was all good.
Laura grabbed the bill, tucked it into her pack on the front seat, and then whipped off her top to expose her full breasts, probably her best feature in her opinion. The man certainly seemed appreciative, reaching out to grab them with a hungry enthusiasm that made Laura smile.
“Easy, buddy, there’s plenty enough to go around,” said Laura with a little laugh.
The man, though, just kept tugging and pulling on her tits like he was trying to detach them from her body or something.
“Look, it seems like your motor’s already running hot, but do you want to start with a blowjob?” said Laura, grabbing his head so he would watch her as she made the universal symbol for someone sucking a dick.
He seemed quite pleased with that offer, which made Laura happy. Nine times out of ten, if you knew what you were doing, you could get a guy to cum from oral sex alone, sparing the need to take things further.
Getting on her knees, Laura got her second pleasant surprise when his dick ended up looking and smelling clean, something that couldn’t always be said about guys in America. The Italian man’s cock wasn’t very thick, but it was quite long, and it curved slightly to the left, making it a bit tricky to take it all the way into her mouth.
Nonetheless, he certainly seemed to be enjoying what she was doing, a big grin on his face as she bobbed up and down his shaft. Yet even though she could feel his cock throbbing hard, she just couldn’t manage to find his trigger point. Frustrated, it took her a few moments to come up with a solution. She grabbed his hands and brought them back to her breasts.
Now that the guy had his favorite playthings in his grip, it took almost no time at all before Laura felt his balls begin to tighten. She gave the base of his shaft one really good squeeze and that was all it took, a hot shower of salty sweet jizz hitting the back of her throat as she expertly milked him dry.
“Oddio, che bella ragazza!” cried the man as he stumbled backward, his rapidly wilting dick coming to rest against his thigh.
“Yeah, not too bad,” said Laura with a grin as she got to her feet and wiped off her mouth with the back of her hand.
Occasionally, some guys were able to rebound just minutes after blowing their load, but Laura was relieved to see that the driver wasn’t one of them. Instead, he had a big grin on his face as he looked at her, merrily jabbering away in Italian even though he had to know by now that she didn’t speak the language.
Laura took the opportunity to stretch arms a little, enjoying the warm sunshine on her bare skin. She’d read so many travel guides about how special the sun was in Tuscany, which she thought had been a bit overblown, but now she was starting to think maybe they had a point. It was gloriously bright and warm, yet there was no tingling sensation that it was going to burn her.
Considering that a good omen, Laura reluctantly put her top back on and then got into the car. The man, meanwhile, opened the back door and took out a rag of some sort of piece of cloth. Curious, Laura watched as he used it to clean off his dick, something she’d never seen an American guy do, and then he climbed into the driver’s seat.
“Okay, Senzaregole di Aruzza, sì?” said Laura, relieved when he nodded his head.
A few minutes later, they were back on the highway. Laura took the opportunity to kick off her sandals and put her feet up on the dashboard. So far, her trip to Italy was going swimmingly well.
Now she just had to get to the village and find the man she had sworn to destroy.
Molto Lontano
When the driver pulled the car over to a stop in a dusty town square, it took Laura a moment to realize they’d reached their destination.
Between the jet leg and the warm sun on her skin, she’d dozed off for a while. The driver was once again jabbering away in Italian to her, but she heard him say 'Senzaregole di Aruzza,' which was where she needed to go.
“You’re saying this is the village? Here? Qui?” said Laura, gesturing around her.
“Sì sì, questa Senzaregole di Aruzza,” said the man.
“All right. Well, um, thanks for the lift. Grazie,” said Laura as she climbed out of the car and slung her pack on her back.
The man nodded, saying a few more words in Italian before putting the vehicle in gear and lurching off. As the sound of the motor faded away, the silence of the tiny town descended on her. She’d never been in a place quite so remote before, so it was a little eerie not to hear any vehicular traffic.
In the center of the square was a rather decrepit looking tower, and a thin stream of water was coming out of a short, stubby pipe on one side, falling into a stone basin that had definitely seen better days. Around the square were several buildings that she guessed were apartments based on the clothing she could see hung up to dry on some of the balconies, but there was simply no one in sight.
Of course, it was the hottest part of the afternoon, and Laura knew from her research that Italians like to take naps during that period, a practice she thought of as frankly a bit juvenile. After all, it wasn’t that hot out, but nonetheless, the town felt utterly deserted, with a dog howling off in the distance the only sound.
Laura looked around, trying to get her bearings. She knew the place she needed to get to was a few kilometers out of town to the north, but there were no signs anywhere she could see. All the shops were shut as well, except for one with a small wooden door marked “Tabaccheria - Posta” and a curious little symbol of a musical instrument on top.
With no other choice, Laura hiked over to the shop, a little bell tinkling when she stepped inside. The place had no air conditioning, leaving the air stale and close. The place was tiny, barely enough room for a couple of people to stand in front of the counter, behind which sat a man possibly in his 50s with a large, round belly who was intently watching some kind of sports game on the smallest television she had ever seen.
“Hello. Buon giorno,” said Laura, putting on her most fetching smile as she approached him. “Do you know where Castello Senzaregole di Aruzza is?”
But the man just ignored her, too focused on what was happening on the screen to even turn his head to look at her.
“Um, hello?” said Laura, thrusting out her chest in hopes that that would get his attention.
Yet again, he said nothing, his eyes darting to and fro as players in brightly colored uniforms moved on the screen. Just when she was about to open her mouth and say something else to get him to look at her, the announcer on TV started shouting something, and the man sprang to his feet, both arms above his head as he grinned triumphantly from ear to ear.
“Got a goal, huh?” said Laura, squinting to try and make out what was happening, but it was useless.
“Sì, un gol straordinario!” said the man, still beaming as if he had personally contributed to scoring the point.
“Great,” said Laura with a little chuckle. “Listen, can you point me in the direction of the Castello? Castello Senzaregole di Aruzza?”
“Il castello?” said the man, his eyes shooting up in surprise as he used a cloth to mop his brow.
“Sì, the castello,” said Laura, nodding and smiling. “Do you know where it is? Um, dove il castello?”
“Il castello è molto lontano,” said the man, shaking his head.
Laura wasn’t quite sure what he was saying, but she could tell by the expression on his face that it wasn’t good news.
“Just point me in the right direction,” said Laura, experimentally gesturing out the door and then at the wall where a faded calendar advertising cigarettes hung, hoping he was understanding her meaning.
“Il castello è lì,” said the man, pointing in what she hoped was the direction of the castle.
“Okay, thanks. Grazie,” said Laura, the man’s attention already turned back toward the television.
It was a bit frustrating to have lost out to a stupid sports game, but that was okay. It wasn’t like she fancied the guy or anything. Still, though, she had to wonder what kind of red-blooded man would prefer to stare at another man rather than a fetching young woman. Maybe he was gay, she consoled herself. Surely, even European towns in the middle of nowhere had some homosexual people.
Laura exited the shop and followed a cobblestone street that led in the direction that he had been pointing. For the next five minutes or so, she trudged that way, passing by more ancient looking apartment buildings. But then to her surprise, she saw an open field beyond the last building, the town having come to an abrupt end.
Using her hand to shield her eyes from the sun, Laura gazed off into the distance, trying to catch a glimpse of the castle. The internet had failed her in this regard as she’d been unable to find so much as a single photograph of the place.
The only reason she knew it still existed was because of the satellite view on Google Maps. Other than that, all the references she’d been able to find were written ones from books written in the 1700s and 1800s.
What she could see, however, was that the road ahead had a few twists and turns as it snaked its way up through some rather steep looking hills. The sandals she was wearing weren’t really made for long-distance hiking, so she stood there for a while as she tried to figure out what to do.
Just then, a young boy, maybe around 7 or 8 years old, his skin as brown as a nut, popped his head out of a window in the apartment building next to her.
“Hello there,” said Laura. “Buon giorno. Do you speak English by any chance?”
The boy just stared at her like she was a museum exhibit or something, no expression on his face.
“Do you know where is the castello?” said Laura. “Castello Senzaregole di Aruzza?”
At that, the boy grinned. “You... English?” His heavy accent was adorable.
“I’m American, yes,” said Laura, giving him a warm smile in return. “I’m trying to get to the castello. It’s that way, yeah?”
Frustratingly, the boy shook his head, but then he held up one finger. “Un momento, un momento!” he called out.
“Momento?” said Laura, puzzled for a moment until she figured it out. “Ah. Sure thing, kid.”
Still grinning, the kid disappeared from sight, leaving Laura to wonder whether he had understood her or not. But not really relishing a long hike up into the hills, especially when she wasn’t completely sure she was going in the right direction, she stood there and waited for him to reappear.
However, to her pleasant surprise, the person who emerged from the empty doorway leading into the apartment was a young man about her age, a very cute one at that with a lovely mop of hair and a crooked smile that got her pulse racing.
“Hello,” said Laura, her spirits instantly lifted.
“You... English?” said the young man as he approached her.
“American, yes,” said Laura, noting with a bit of dismay that he was barefoot, but other than that, he certainly had a nice body without an ounce of extra fat visible anywhere. “Do you speak English?”
“Ah, yes. Sorry, my English not so good,” said the man, twin spots of color on his cheeks.
“Hey, that’s all right. My Italian is not molto buono either,” said Laura with a self-deprecating chuckle. “I’m looking for Castello Senzaregole di Aruzza. Is it that way?”
The young man looked in the direction she was pointing and nodded, but then he then said something in Italian that she couldn’t understand. It did seem like he was repeating a few of the words she’d heard back at the shop, so she took that as a good sign.
“Is it far?” said Laura. “Many kilometers to the castle?”
“Sì, sì, is far,” said the young man. “I take you.”
“Oh wow, okay,” said Laura, delighted by his offer although he did look to be too young to drive. Plus, there was something strangely familiar about him, but she couldn’t figure out what.
“Un momento, okay?” said the young man, nodding as he showed her the palm of his hand.
“Of course. I’ll wait here,” said Laura, wondering if maybe the age you could get a driver’s license was different in Italy, something she’d never researched.
Laura stood there and watched as he darted back inside the apartment building, emerging a few moments later with a key in his hand. She then followed him over to a series of rusty looking sheds and watched as he removed the padlock on one of them and then swung the door open. Inside, though, there were no cars, only an ancient-looking scooter, the fabric on the seat cracked and faded.
“Ah,” said Laura as he backed the scooter out of the shed and then replaced the padlock.
It was a pretty rinky-dink vehicle, but if it could get her up to the castle in one piece, then she wasn’t going to complain. Best of all, as she examined the scooter more closely, she realized the only way to ride it would be with her hands wrapped around the young man’s waist, and that was a rather appealing thought indeed.
Americans Love Their Ice
“My name’s Laura,” said Laura, holding out her hand once he was done locking up the shed.
“Labbia? Ah, very nice. Mi chiamo Vincenzo,” said the young man, studiously shaking her hand. “My name is Vincenzo.”
“Actually it’s Laura. It’s very nice to meet you, Vincenzo,” said Laura, savoring the sound of his name in her head as he used his legs to kick-start a lever that got the scooter’s motor whining to life.
“Please, Labbia,” said the young man, gesturing for her to climb on behind him.
Shaking off the fact that he had clearly misheard her when she’d said her name, she swung one leg over the scooter. She’d ridden on a few motorcycles before, but nothing as small as this scooter, the seat barely big enough to accommodate them both, so she had to press her crotch firmly against his back just to keep from falling off.
“No helmets, eh? Okay, cool,” said Laura, snaking her arms around his waist, delighted to feel that his abdomen was tight and toned underneath the fabric of the T-shirt he wore.
The scooter’s engine sounded more like a mosquito whine than the roar of two-wheeled vehicles she was used to, but it had enough power to get them climbing up the road toward the hills, albeit at not a very high rate of speed. Except for the noise, it was almost like being on a bicycle, allowing Laura plenty of time to get a good look at the surrounding countryside.
On one side of the road there were a series of rolling valleys stretching out as far as the eye could see. Some were covered in grass and what looked like wildflowers, while others were clearly cultivated, including a few that Laura thought she recognized as vineyards growing grapes. On the other side of the road was a large hill that dominated the region, but the steepness made it impossible to see to the top.
“Wow, this place is gorgeous!” said Laura, shouting to be heard over the sound of the scooter’s engine.
Vincenzo said nothing, but he nodded in response to that, so Laura gave him a little squeeze to let him know she knew he had understood. The squeeze also gave her another chance to feel out the contours of his body, and so far, she really liked what she had discovered.
Even better, being pressed up so tightly against him let her get his scent in her nose, which was very clean and fresh with maybe just the faintest touch of exotic spice underneath it. Vincenzo might come from a poor village in the middle of nowhere, but was definitely an attractive guy, and she felt a heat building up between her legs as the little scooter hugged the curves of the road.
Between the vibrations coming from the motor and Vincenzo’s lovely smell, Laura’s pussy was throbbing by the time they gained enough altitude for the castle to come into view. Even from a distance, it was clear that it had seen better days, the large central tower looking forlorn in the warm red-orange afternoon rays of the sun.
“Il castello,” said Vincenzo, pointing ahead.
“Yes, I see it,” said Laura, her thighs involuntarily squeezing together as she felt her arousal grow.
Sucking off the guy who had given her a ride from the airport had whetted her appetite, and now she had a lovely Italian boy literally in her grasp. If they could find a quiet place where they could pull off and enjoy some privacy, she was more than ready to get some satisfaction. But when she tried to tell him her plan, Vincenzo kept shaking his head, pointing to his ear to tell her that he couldn’t understand what she was saying.
Laura was on the verge of giving his cock a hefty squeeze when the road suddenly leveled out, giving the scooter a renewed sense of vigor. As they picked up speed, Laura had to hang on to keep from falling off, the previously paved road transitioning to a lumpy, rocky surface that had them bouncing around all over the place.
Vincenzo, however, seemed to be enjoying the wild ride, a huge grin on his face as the scooter zoomed ever closer to the castle. Glancing up, Laura finally got her first real look at the place, comparing it in her mind to the engravings she’d seen in those old books. The castle had certainly seen better times, the bricks crumbling in several places, and the area around the exterior was overgrown, interspersed by strange trees with twisted, gnarled branches.
Once upon a time, the castle must have been an impressive structure indeed, but now it looked like it had been abandoned for decades if not centuries. Except for the Volkswagen van parked out front, there was no sign of habitation, and a cold dread ran down Laura’s spine as she began to wonder if maybe her target had moved on to somewhere far nicer to live.
“Okay, here is castle,” said Vincenzo, bringing them to a stop and cutting the engine in front of what might have been a fountain at one time, its dirty stone basin now clogged with leaves and dirt.
“Yeah, so it seems,” said Laura, her ears still ringing a bit as she climbed down from the scooter.
During the long ride, her shorts had gotten wedged into her crotch, so it took a moment of making some adjustments before she could stand up straight properly. With the scooter silent, the only sound was the whisper of the breeze through the overgrown vegetation and those weird trees.
Having traveled so far and planned for this for so long, it felt a bit surreal to be finally standing in front of the place where the man who had ruined her family lived. Up until now, her revenge fantasies had fueled her nights and days, but now it was time to see if reality could match her dreams, so she marched up to the ancient wooden door and knocked.
“Okay, ciao, Labbia!” called out Vincenzo as she waited with her heart in her throat for someone to answer.
Surprised, Laura turned to see Vincenzo gun the scooter back to life and then start moving forward around the disused fountain.
“Wait!” said Laura, but he couldn’t hear her, giving her a big smile and a wave as he zoomed off back toward the town.
Now there was no chance of them finding a secluded place to have a quick roll in the hay, which was disappointing. Even more ominously, it meant that she was stuck without a ride if things went south with the resident of the castle, and she had no desire to retrace her steps back to that tiny village. All she could do now was hope that her plan would succeed.
Her first knock not having achieved any results, she tried knocking again, but the door was simply too thick for the sound to carry too far. She then began hunting around for some kind of doorbell, but there was none, just a heavy slab of wood and a giant, silent castle looming over her.
After knocking a third time and not getting an answer, Laura finally spotted a thin chain leading up to what looked like a pipe. Giving it an experimental tug, she was surprised when it made a mechanical, rasping sound. It wasn’t like any doorbell she had ever seen, but that’s clearly what it was, and sure enough, she heard a metal bolt disengage a few moments later.
“Hi there,” said Laura, giving the man who answered her biggest smile, even as her heart pounded in her chest.
“You... speak English?” said the man, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise.
“Yep, yep,” said Laura, trying her best to sound nonchalant even though this was the person she had traveled thousands of miles to see.
She’d been unable to find any recent photographs during her online research, but the man before her was unmistakably him. In his early 50s, he still had a thick head of wavy hair, albeit it was now dotted here and there with traces of gray. He had no facial hair, but there was a five o’clock shadow on his rugged jaw. Dressed in a simple yet elegant loose-fitting suit, he was undoubtedly one of the most handsome men his age she’d ever met.
“You are... a tourist?” said the man, looking around as if to spot her tour bus.
“No, I’m, uh, here for the job,” said Laura, sticking to the line she had rehearsed.
“Job?” said the man, an amused grin breaking out on his attractive face. “I’m afraid there has been a misunderstanding.”
“Are you sure?” said Laura, batting her eyes and giving him her sweetest smile. “This is Castello Senzaregole, right?”
“Yes, yes, that is correct but uh...” said the man, hesitating for a moment as his eyes swept up and down her body, causing Laura’s nipples to tingle with excitement. “Maybe is better if you come in. Please.”
Laura nodded and followed him inside, gasping as she took in the sheer size of the atrium or whatever it was called. The entrance was two stories in height, her eyes immediately drawn to the enormous chandelier hanging down from far above. Behind it was a grand staircase leading up, however one side was closed off with a rope stretched across the entrance, and the carpeting on the other side was faded and dusty.
“The kitchen is... just here,” said the man, his accent charming but not too thick, as if he’d once spoken English more fluently but had since grown rusty.
“Ah,” said Laura, following him down a hallway littered with chairs and side tables covered with more drop cloths as if the place was about to be repainted.
“It’s been a long time since I have spoken to an American,” said the man, leading her into the only modern room she had seen so far, the granite countertops and center island sparkling with an array of pots, pans, and appliances. “Juice? Water? Perhaps some wine?”
“Um, water is fine,” said Laura, hopping onto one of the stools next to the center island and setting her pack down on an adjacent one.
“I’m sorry, but I don’t have any ice,” said the man, giving her a rakish grin as he set down a cut-glass tumbler and bottle of mineral water in front of her. “I know Americans love their ice.”
“Yes, they do,” said Laura, grimacing as she heard the gas escaping once she’d twisted off the cap.
“Oh, do you perhaps want water from the... fountain?” said the man. “Oops, I mean the tap. Or is it a faucet? Sorry, it’s been a while since I practiced my English.”
“Um, it’s the tap,” said Laura with a little giggle, surprised at how charming and good-looking he was, far more than she’d ever expected. “And no, I’m fine. Mineral water is good for your bones, right?”
Classical Beauty
“Ah,” said the man with a little nod, his eyes twinkling with merriment.
Damnit! She’d only been in the guy’s house for five minutes, and already she was starting to get really turned on.
If he had been literally anybody else but the man who had done so many unspeakable things, she would’ve considered this her lucky day, coming across someone as hot as he was in an ancient castle in the middle of nowhere. But he wasn’t anyone else. He was her mortal enemy, so she took a deep breath to compose herself.
“It’s a very lovely house you have here,” said Laura, unable to resist giving him a flirty smile.
“You think? I don’t know,” said the man with a sigh. “She is not what she used to be, that is for sure. Although, neither am I.”
“A-ha,” said Laura, unable to stop from smiling at that clever self-reference.
“You know, it has been a long time since I have spoken to an American,” said the man. “It is a pleasure to hear you speak.”
“Really?” said Laura. “Most people think Americans talk... vulgar. Usually, it’s British accents that are more popular.”
“Well, I like Americans. They are always very direct and open,” said the man, giving her a decidedly pointed look. “Maybe it is vulgar sometimes, but at least it is honest.”
“Right,” said Laura with a little gulp, wondering if maybe he had figured out who she was and why she was there.
“Oh my, speaking of vulgar, I have forgotten to introduce myself,” said the man, a mischievous smile on his lips. “I am Ricardo. Ricardo Ciabatini.”
“Ah, nice to meet you,” said Laura, blushing a bit when he kissed her outstretched hand instead of shaking it. “I am, um, Laura. Laura Guida.”
“Wow, what a beautiful name!” said Ricardo, his eyes dancing with merriment. “You are Italian?”
“What? No, no,” said Laura, inwardly chiding herself for making up such a stupid last name. Somehow, his magnetic presence had disrupted her calm, making it hard for her to think straight.
“Hm, are you sure?” said Ricardo, taking a step closer to her, his gaze roaming her up and down in a way that sent her inner fires roaring hot. “Because you have the classical beauty of an Italian woman.”
“Gosh, um, thanks,” said Laura, the spot between her legs already beginning to throb. “But no, um, I’m just a regular old American gal.”
“Ah, yes,” said Ricardo, throwing his head back and laughing.
“What?” said Laura, her face burning with embarrassment.
“Sorry, as I said, it has been so long since I have had the pleasure of talking to an American,” said Ricardo. “I find those little words like ‘gal’ so amusing.”
“Ah,” said Laura, discreetly reaching down to pinch herself in order to try and snap out of the trance this charming bastard had her in.
“So tell me, Laura,” said Ricardo, looking directly into her eyes, which made it really difficult not to swoon. “What brings you out to my humble estate? Most visitors to Tuscany prefer to wander the galleries and museums of Florence.”
“Oh, right,” said Laura with a little shake of her head, glad to be back on more solid ground with her rehearsed story. “I, uh, work in an antique shop back in America, and, well, I came across books with engravings of this place in them. I guess I just wanted to see it with my own eyes.”
“Alas, this place is nowhere near its former glory,” said Ricardo with a little sigh. “But yes, it was once the magnificent residence of the Count of Aruzza, my distant ancestor. Most of the structures here were built during the Renaissance.”
“Wow, it really is impressive,” said Laura. “I’d love a tour if that’s possible.”
“Hmm, perhaps,” said Ricardo.
He then paused for a moment as if he had something else he wanted to add. But before he could say another word, a beautiful young woman, perhaps in her early 30s, came flying into the kitchen, setting down a large paper bag onto the counter with a dramatic flourish.
At first, she didn’t notice Laura, but as soon as she did, her eyes narrowed. Laura, meanwhile, found herself a bit intimidated by the elegance and style of the woman’s clothes, a breezy, flowing outfit with all the hallmarks of European sophistication yet completely without ostentation. In short, the very definition of chic, to say nothing of the lovely gold necklace around her neck and the chunky bracelets on her wrist.
“Allora... e questo chi è?” said the woman, keeping her eyes on Laura even as she leaned in to give Ricardo a kiss on the cheek.
“Darling, yes,” said Ricardo, making a grand gesture in Laura’s direction. “This is Laura Guida. She is an American.”
“Hi there,” said Laura, giving the woman a friendly wave.
“American, eh?” said the woman, her voice as cold as ice as she looked Laura up and down.
“Do you speak Italian, Laura?” said Ricardo.
“Um, solo un po’. Only a little,” said Laura with a self-deprecating chuckle in an effort to ease the tension, but the woman, whoever she was, still had daggers in her eyes.
“Okay then, we speak English,” said Ricardo, smiling and clapping his hands together. “This here is my fiancée, Beatrice.”
“Ah, lovely to meet you,” said Laura with a nod.
Beatrice, meanwhile, just continued to stare at Laura.
“She came all the way from America to see the estate,” said Ricardo, seemingly oblivious to his fiancée’s discomfort.
“It really is an amazing place. You’re lucky to live here,” said Laura, adopting a sheepish grin, but Beatrice wasn’t having any of it.
“Okay, now you have seen it,” said Beatrice. “Time to go.”
“Woah, woah, she just arrived at the front door ten minutes ago,” said Ricardo with a little laugh. “She has requested for me to give her a tour.”
“Fine, do as you wish,” said Beatrice, turning her back to Laura and busying herself putting away the groceries.
“Come, follow me,” said Ricardo with a gesture.
Laura hopped down from the stool and followed him out of the kitchen, glad to be out of the radiance of the other woman’s malevolent stares. Ricardo led the two of them down a long hall with many doors on either side, their footsteps echoing off the ancient floorboards.
“How many rooms are there in this place?” said Laura.
“Honestly? I don’t know,” said Ricardo with a grin. “I’ve never counted. Indeed, I’ve never been in most of them.”
“Wow, must be nice,” said Laura, thinking back to the tiny apartment she shared with her mother back in the United States.
“Eh, not so much,” said Ricardo, taking them through a couple of rooms, all of which had drop cloths draped over the furniture. “It can be a little... how do you say? Spooky. When the Count of Aruzza lived here, he had dozens of servants and a constant stream of visitors.”
“I bet you could fit a whole army in here,” said Laura.
“Yes, my dream one day is to fix it up enough to bring in tourists,” said Ricardo, opening a door that led out into a small grass-lined courtyard with brick walls on either side. “Then perhaps we could make proper use of all this space.”
“Yeah, tourists would love it,” said Laura, following him around the corner and finally getting a proper view of the rear of the house. “Wow.”
Although somewhat dense with undergrowth and a few of those strange trees with crooked branches, the view was nonetheless astonishing, the ground sloping down to reveal a long picturesque valley where just the faintest outlines of the town could be spotted.
“Yes, quite amazing, isn’t it?” said Ricardo, gesturing at a simple set of wrought iron furniture nearby. “I like to sit out here in the morning and drink my coffee.”
“It’s fantastic,” said Laura, still a bit breathless at the magnificence of it all. “And that’s the town down there, right?”
“Yes, it is a bit of a buffo,” said Ricardo with a chuckle. “Sorry, I don’t know how to translate that into English. A joke in bad taste, perhaps?”
“Huh?” said Laura.
“My ancestor the Count built his estate facing away from the town,” said Ricardo.
“Ah,” said Laura with a nod.
“I’m not sure why. Perhaps it was an architectural necessity, perhaps not,” said Ricardo. “But that’s just the way it is. His bedroom is on the other side of the house, so perhaps this was his way of turning his back on the locals. I really don’t know, but it's not something I would ever do.”
Very In Vogue
“Interesting,” said Laura, having never picked up that particular detail during her research. “What are all those trees over there?”
“Oh yes, those are olive trees,” said Ricardo, a big smile on his face.
“Olives?” said Laura. “Like the kind you can eat?”
“Absolutely,” said Ricardo. “One of my other plans is to get an olive press up here to make oil. Fresh-pressed olive oil is one of the greatest culinary delights there are.”
“Wow, yeah, and the tourists would love it too, I bet,” said Laura. “But why are their limbs so crooked? I don’t think I’ve ever seen a tree like that back in the States.”
“My goodness, you’ve really never seen an olive tree before, have you?” said Ricardo. “Come. Follow me.”
A bit hesitantly, Laura followed him as he headed off into the foliage. It wasn’t all thick undergrowth, though, as there were a series of narrow footpaths leading here and there, although they definitely looked like they could use some maintenance and sprucing up, much like everything else on the estate.
“Ah, okay,” said Laura, feeling a bit unsettled as she followed Ricardo up to an enormous tree with thick, craggy branches going this way and that. Even its trunk looked gnarled and twisted, almost as if it were screaming in pain.
“This tree right here is over 2,000 years old,” said Ricardo, craning his head to look up at the highest part of the tree.
“What? No way,” gasped Laura.
“This is just an estimate, but sure,” said Ricardo, giving the trunk an affectionate pat. “This tree was around to witness the rise of Julius Caesar and many more things besides.”
“I didn’t even know trees could live that long,” said Laura, still trying to process the sheer age of the thing in front of her.
“It was almost certainly planted by an Ancient Roman farmer. And look,” said Ricardo, bending over to pick something off the ground. “It is still producing olives even today.”
“That is... crazy,” said Laura, examining the little green thing he had given her, which sure enough, looked like an olive.
“The flavor from the oil of these olives would be... sublime,” said Ricardo with a little sigh. “But alas, I just don’t have the funds to acquire a press. Maybe one day.”
“Wow, I can see why you want to keep this place,” said Laura, still feeling a bit awestruck.
“Yes. It is not just my family’s ancestral home. It also calls to my spirit in a way,” said Ricardo, falling silent for a long moment as he gazed up at the tree. “Forgive me. That is the artist in me talking.”
“Artist?” said Laura, confused.
“Yes, I am a writer,” said Ricardo, his eyes twinkling with merriment. “Occasionally short stories and poems, but mostly long literary novels that no one reads.”
“Ah, yes,” said Laura, not wanting to say more so he wouldn’t know just how much research she’d done on him.
“I don’t mean to toot my own horn as you Americans say,” said Ricardo with a grin. “But I have won a few prizes. Alas, prizes do not equal sales, which is why the pittance I do make from my books is barely enough to keep this place from falling apart.”
“Right,” said Laura, her mind spinning with ideas. “Well, I think today is your lucky day.”
“It is? How lovely,” said Ricardo.
“I think I know a way I can help both of us out,” said Laura, her intuition telling her that she was on the right path. “As I told you, I came here because I was looking for a job.”
“Right...” said Ricardo, giving her a contemplative look.
“The truth is I’m a bit short on cash myself,” said Laura, adding in a big dose of authenticity to the lie she was about to spin. “But I want to write a research paper on this estate, so maybe we can work out a deal where I can stay here in exchange for helping you.”
“Go on...” said Ricardo.
“I can help you with, you know, maybe clearing out some of this undergrowth and sprucing up the place a bit,” said Laura. “And also, I mean I do speak English. I have a friend who designs websites. Maybe I can also help you get that tourism thing going.”
“Interesting,” said Ricardo, stroking his chin for a moment. “Well, I certainly will not say no to any help. An estate as old as this needs constant maintenance, and I simply cannot afford to hire any of the villagers on a full-time basis, just here and there for the most important things.”
“Perfect!” said Laura, starting to get excited.
“Wait. Hold on,” said Ricardo. “But I want to hear more about this research paper first. You are a college student?”
“Um, yeah,” said Laura, looking him straight in the eye even as her heart hammered in her chest.
“I thought you said you found out about the estate from your work in an antique shop,” said Ricardo.
“I did,” said Laura, once again choosing to blend fact with fiction. “And I got to talking to my, um, professor about it, and he said it would make a really good topic for a research paper. European castles are very in vogue these days.”
“Really?” said Ricardo, arching an eyebrow. “Go on.”
“Yeah, so, I thought I’d go see it for myself,” said Laura. “And the second I got here, I was, like, wow, yeah. But I just can’t afford to stay in some AirBNB for the summer, so that’s why I asked you for a job.”
“Interesting,” said Ricardo. “I cannot help but feel flattered by your interest.”
“Thanks,” said Laura, her cheeks growing warm.
“But as for doing maintenance and landscaping, do you have any experience in this?” said Ricardo. “Forgive my old-fashioned chauvinism, but this is not normally the kind of work young ladies do.”
“Hey, I’m tougher than I look,” said Laura, which was truer than he could have ever guessed. “And all I’m really asking for is room and board. What do you say?”
“My heart wants me to say yes,” said Ricardo, giving her such an intense look that a shiver ran down her spine. “But I must speak to Beatrice about it first.”
“Sure, sure, no, I understand,” said Laura, trying not to show her disappointment.
“I must confess that I was a bit of a... how do you say? A ladies man when I was younger,” said Ricardo with a chuckle. “Those days are long over as I am ready to settle down, but Beatrice is not always, ahem, convinced that I have eyes only for her.”
“I understand,” said Laura, resisting the urge to smirk at that comment.
She knew full well that him calling himself a ladies man was the understatement of the year. He had spent his entire youth seducing women and getting them pregnant, only to leave them in the lurch. In America, he would’ve been known as a deadbeat dad, but here, he still clearly thought of himself as a rakish rogue.
“That won’t be a problem for you, will it?” said Ricardo, his eyes saying far more than his words.
“Of course not,” said Laura. “And tell her I’m just here for the summer. Not only does my visa expire in 90 days, but I’ve got to get back to class.”
“Very well,” said Ricardo. “I shall talk it over with her. In the meantime, would you like some lunch?”
“Oh my gosh, yes. I’m starving,” said Laura. “I haven’t eaten all day.”
“Excellent,” said Ricardo, gesturing for her to follow him. “Beatrice has just been to the market, so I’ll be able to give you a proper Tuscany welcome with some of my favorite dishes.”
“Oh, awesome,” said Laura, trailing behind him as he led them back to the house and then indicated for her to take a seat in one of the wrought iron chairs.
“Another water, perhaps, while you wait? Or maybe some coffee?” said Ricardo.
“Sure. Coffee is fine. Just black,” said Laura.
“Very good,” said Ricardo, giving her a little nod and a smile before disappearing back into the main house.
Once she had the place to herself, Laura let out a little contented sigh and stretched out her legs. Yes, everything was going better than she had expected. Not only had she found her target living in this ridiculously huge castle but she had managed to come up with a convincing story to let him stay there long enough for her to fulfill every detail of her plan to utterly ruin his life.
So far, the only fly in the ointment was that fiancée of his. Of course, Laura knew a guy like Ricardo would never be single, but Beatrice was clearly a sharp cookie, already suspecting something was up. If Beatrice caught even the faintest whiff of what Laura had in mind, the whole thing might blow up before Laura could get her revenge. As such, Laura was going to have to keep a close eye on the woman.
Nonetheless, Laura had a strong feeling that Ricardo was going to convince Beatrice to let her stay, at least for a while. The man might say that he's settling down and only has eyes for one woman, but his gaze had been a little too attentive. Beatrice might have nicer clothes and a better sense of style, but Laura had her youth on her side, and that was a very powerful weapon indeed.
The only way Ricardo was going to wriggle out of her trap was by showing far more discipline than he had ever shown in his entire life, and Laura didn’t think that was very likely to happen.
Indeed, she had a gut feeling he wasn’t going to be able to resist her charms for long at all, and then she would have him right where she wanted to.