The Island. Erotic story

Отрывок из книги

Michail Duridomov was sitting on a deck-chair on the terrace of the second floor of a small house, which Bella and he rented on Capri for the last week of vacation, and reread “The Island” of Aldous Huxley on the tablet. He could hear Bella rattling the dishes in the kitchen: they lived in apartments to rest from hotels and people; they saw the couple living on the first floor maximum once a day, exchanged a short “Bon Journo” and did not even know what language they spoke.

On the second floor, there was a separate staircase, the entrance to the first was decorated with two ionic columns, and they called their house a villa. The floor was lined with ceramic tiles, it was nice to walk barefoot in the heat. In total there were two rooms and a bathroom: a huge living room with a kitchen and a table in the corner, a sofa and armchairs in the middle and an exit to the terrace, and a small bedroom with peasant-style furniture; on the walls bright copies of famous paintings hung, the windows had blue shutters.

.....

“He lived. But this is not a temple. You’ll see tomorrow.”

“Okay. Full already? Or more food?”

.....