Page 18 of Italian Professor


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“That sounds like the perfect setup for a breakup. That’s not what this is, is it?”

“Absolutely not, I promise. So? A café?”

I roll my eyes at him and say, “No. I want to go to your place.”

“What? Why?”

“Why not? You’ve been to my house. I want to see where you live.”

“But why?”

“What’s the deal? Are you hiding a wife and children? Are you a serial killer who doesn’t want me to see your lair?”

“Do you think either of those things is true?”

“No, but if I can’t see where you live, how can I get to know you better?”

“Fine, my house it is.” He shakes his head at me and adds, “Just tell my wife that you’re the new babysitter. You and I can fool around after you put my seventeen children to bed.”

“Seventeen, huh? You must really like having sex with your wife.”

“Who said they were all hers?” he laughs and I smack his arm.

Our drive takes us through the city center and begins to look strangely familiar.

“Hey,” I say looking out the window. “Isn’t that where we…um…parked??”

“You mean the place where you gave me head?” he grins.

“You knew what I meant. This is where you live?”

“Yes, San Lorenzo,” he nods.

“Then, why didn’t you just take me to your place?”

“Because I was still feeling things out between us, and I knew that if I took you home, I was going to have sex with you.”

“And that would have been some sort of problem for you?”

“Aria, I wasn’t ready to have you in my bed just yet. If I take you to my bed, you’re never leaving.”

“So, why are you taking me there now?”

“I told you, we need to talk.”

“Talk?”

“Yes, little girl, talk.”

Smiling, I shake my head, and he asks, “What’s so funny?”

“Isn’t San Lorenzo called the most romantic neighborhood in Milan?”

“That’s what they call it. Why?”

“It makes perfect sense. You go against the grain. You’re a professor, soon-to-be headmaster, of an elite ancient high school, but you could pass for a professional wrestler. While other professors are sipping tea and reading dusty old books, you’re lifting weights. Of course, you’d have a lonely bachelor pad in the most romantic neighborhood in the city.”

“Are you calling me odd?”