Free Dirty Minds by T A Williams Page A

shared a plateau of mixed antipasti. Although his parents were Italian, Luca was a London boy through and through. But he did like returning to his ethnic roots from time to time. And, as far as food was concerned, Italian beat London hands down.
    He was onto his second glass of Barbera, and well into the Parma ham, when he returned to the subject of her writing. ‘So any thoughts about place and time?’
    She laid down her fork and let him finish what was left. She looked around the room. It was very ornate, with intricate filigree cornices. The ceiling rose was a work of art, as was the chandelier suspended beneath it. The fireplace was monumental, hewn out of pink marble. The intricate parquet floor and high skirting boards bore testimony to the work of skilled craftsmen.
    ‘How old is this place?’
    ‘I would say, roughly, about 1810.’ He sounded a bit smug. She saw right through him.
    ‘You read the brochure, right?’
    ‘Pretty much. I read the historical stuff on their website before I booked. It used to belong to some marquis or lord or somebody.’
    ‘Excellent, let’s set my thousand words here in 1810. Now, what was going on in the world back then?’
    He had finished the ham, the melon and the salami. He was just spearing the last of the olives. ‘The 1812 overture is about Napoleonic times, some battle or other. I don’t think it was Waterloo. So that was all going on then. Here, it would have been before Queen Victoria. Does that make it Georgian? When was the loony king around, or the Prince Regent? Maybe it’s Regency style.’ He was a chemist, so history wasn’t his forte. ‘Anyway, that’s easy. A quick check on the computer and that’ll sort that out.’
    She nodded, satisfied with her choice. She watched him wipe the olive oil off the plate with his bread. ‘You seem to have built up an appetite.’ She smiled across the table at him.
    ‘Darling girl, if I don’t eat lots, I am likely to waste away and die under the pressure of your physical demands upon me.’
    ‘Oh, so it’s my fault, is it? You are just a poor victim, eh?’
    ‘I can see the headlines now, MAN FOUND DEAD OF EXHAUSTION. WIFE CHARGED WITH WILFUL MANSLAUGHTER. POLICE SPOKESMAN BLAMES HER UNBRIDLED SEXUAL APPETITE.’
    ‘The only unbridled appetite round here is yours for food. Let’s see how much energy you’ve got left after your steak.’ She reached across the table and took his hand. ‘And, as for the what? What do you think? This afternoon or the other night?’
    She had to relinquish his hand almost immediately. The waiter materialised to remove their plates. This gave him time to reflect.
    ‘You’re the one doing the writing. It’s your call. But, if we are talking about the other night, does that mean you might stick in a bit of hanky-spanky?’
    ‘I suppose I’ve got to. I didn’t really enjoy having my bottom spanked. It hurt like blazes. Whether that pain intensified the pleasure that followed, I can’t judge.’ She caught his eye. ‘Whatever the reason, I was certainly up for it, and I’m not complaining. More than the spanking, though, I think it was the naughty thrill of doing something kinky.’
    She had to wait while the waiter brought their main course. The plates were piled high.
    ‘If you manage to eat all that red meat, I’d better look out. The headlines might read of a wife slain by her lustful husband.’
    ‘So, are you going to stick in a bit of corporal punishment or not? Sorry about the pun.’ His voice was muffled by a huge mouthful of steak.
    She surveyed her salmon. There was no way she was going to be able to get through it. She took a tentative bite. It was excellent, but a huge portion.
    ‘I think he’s expecting me to put in something a bit saucy, so why not? At least I know what it feels like now.’
    ‘So who is the man and who’s the girl?’ He drained his glass. The waiter was at his elbow like a flash, topping them both up. He waited until he had retired