You’ll want to go there on a Wednesday.”“Rita on the what?” I asked.“On the rocks. Gay sex This next Wednesday at Rita’s perhaps?”“I don’t think so, Malte. Costas was stretched out on a towel, naked, on his private beach at Perivolia.I stripped off my clothes as I descended the wooden stairs from his villa to the beach. In my view, it had taken longer to get to this point than it should have. Now that I thought of it, I think a couple of them had been done in the photography studio at Costas’s Nicosia gallery—using the same blue-silk drape Costas had fucked me on. I rode their cocks like we were in a rodeo. We would have an argument about leaving it off.”“And you’d win the argument, wouldn’t you?” I asked.“With you I’ll win all of the arguments,” Malte said. If they found out at the embassy . She didn’t object.I suppose I didn’t really have to ask about Malte’s paintings of Janet, and I didn’t have to wonder about it for much longer. Deep. Hans was holding the Greek’s waist between his hands and Malte was holding Hans’s waist. A motorbike had been propped up in the parking apron by the villa, so I assumed someone was here.
