Karl's Italian Adventure
By Terry O'Reilly
Published by JMS Books LLC
Visit http://www.jms-books.com for more information.
Copyright 2010 Terry O'Reilly
ISBN 978-1-93575-349-0
Cover Photo Credit: Giorgio Fochesato, Rapid Eye Media
Used under a Standard Royalty-Free License.
Cover Design: J.M. Snyder
All Rights Reserved
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This book is for ADULT AUDIENCES ONLY. It contains substantial sexually explicit scenes and graphic language which may be considered offensive by some readers. Please store your files where they cannot be accessed by minors.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are solely the product of the author's imagination and/or are used fictitiously, though reference may be made to actual historical events or existing locations. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Published in the United States of America.
* * * *
Karl's Italian Adventure
By Terry O'Reilly
Karl Simons sat on the tour bus as it rattled its way through the streets of Florence. It was the first day of his Italy in Seven Days vacation. He'd never been to Europe before. Never traveled much at all, but he figured a middle school geography/history teacher ought to have a bit of practical experience to share with his students. So, at fifty-one years old, he set out on his first trip outside the United States.
Beside him was Myrna, talking non-stop as she had ever since she had attached herself to him at breakfast when she'd discovered he was single. Myrna was a dumpy, forty-something woman from Tuscaloosa, Alabama. She had won this trip in some sort of contest that the state had held for school staff. It was evident to Karl, from the very first moments of their acquaintance, that this woman was not the type one would usually find on an academically oriented tour. Her knowledge of Italy and the European continent was not even at a basic level. She complained that all they were going to do was go to a bunch of dumb ass museums and art galleries. The only thing she seemed to look forward to was a good, authentic, Italian pizza. That was when she revealed to him she was a school lunch supervisor. The contest was open to all school staff, so she entered...and won. Much to the dismay of the administration, Karl was sure.
The tour guide, a young, handsome Italian by the name of Giorgio, was pointing out the sites of interest. The bus rolled along to its destination of La Galleria dell'Accademia, where the high point of the tour would be a viewing of the famous David statue by Michelangelo.
"Don't ya just love his accent?" purred Myrna, although her heavy southern drawl rivaled any accent Karl had heard recently. "And, he is so cute, don't ya think so? Why, I'd just love to give that sweet little butt a pinch."
Ever since Myrna had discovered butt pinching was the alleged Italian national pastime, she made a similar comment about every attractive young man she saw. It wasn't that Karl didn't agree that a good grope of Giorgio's shapely backside would be too hard to take, but he certainly wasn't going to let that piece of private information about himself out for publication, especially to Myrna.
When the bus arrived at La Galleria, Giorgio stood up from his seat behind the driver and addressed the fifty or so tourists over the loudspeaker.
"We have arrived at La Galleria dell'Accademia. You will have two hours to tour the museum. If you will check your tour packets you will find there are two tickets. One is for La Galleria itself; the second is for the special viewing of Michelangelo's David.
We will meet back here then in two hours, when we will travel to Café Caracol for lunch. Does anyone have any questions?"
There were a few perfunctory enquiries regarding the afternoon's activities.
As they walked to the entrance, Myrna checked her guidebook and said, "I'd like to ask why we's goin' to a Mexican restaurant instead of an Eyetalian one?" She pronounced the word Italian with a long i sound.
Karl imitated Gomer Pile, responding with, "Well gohlly, you'd hardly knowed we was in Eyetally."
His sarcasm was lost on Myrna. "That's right," she responded and never cracked a smile.
Karl was more concerned that they only had two hours to view the exhibits in La Galleria, than eating pizza. But, then, he reminded himself, this is 'Italy in seven days.'
Once inside La Galleria, Karl hoped he would lose Myrna, but she stuck to him like glue.
"These Eyetalians musta been a buncha perverts. All these statues and pictures look like porn to me," Myrna complained as they walked among the sculptures and paintings of nudes.
Karl rolled his eyes and tried to ignore her. Was the whole of the trip to be like this? But then why should he be surprised? He'd always had poor luck with things in his life. For instance: the only time he'd flown home to Detroit to visit his parents, his luggage had gone to Denver; ordering a cheeseburger at Burger King; he often got the cheese, but no burger.
They walked along the main hall of La Galleria, stopping occasionally to view a painting or sculpture. He could see a lighted area ahead. There was a large crowd of people gathering there. Over the heads of the crowd, Karl got his first glimpse of Michelangelo's David. A thrill shot through him. Having seen only pictures of the famous statue, he now was to see it in person. He'd always had a thing for the nude. He wondered how many people came to see it for its artistic beauty, and how many were there to lust after the perfect human male form the artist had captured in stone.
"Attenzione," came an amplified voice. "Il giro del David del Michelangelo comincerà in cinque minuti."
"What'd he say?" Myrna asked. "Why cain't these feriners speak American?"
"I don't know," said Karl with a grimace at her ignorance. "I don't speak Italian."
"Scusa," said a pretty young woman standing next to them. "He said, 'The tour of the David statue starts in five minutes.'"
"Thank you, ah... Grazie," Karl said with a smile.
She returned the smile and walked away.
As he approached a domed area, he was asked to present his second ticket. He did and, along with a large number of his fellow tourists, entered the room.
"Good morning, welcome to the Tribuna of David," the docent began. "You will excuse if I am not as good with your English."
Everyone murmured that he was doing just fine.
"Grazie," he acknowledged the acceptance of his attempts to speak to a largely American crowd.
"Please, take your time and view this great work of art by Michelangelo. I give you few minutes to view and then to begin to tell you about this masterpiece of Renaissance sculpture."
Karl, along with the rest of the group, began to slowly walk around the towering figure of David, second King of Israel. People spoke in hushed voices, if at all. All except Myrna, who commented loudly and frequently on different aspects of the statue's body parts, especially that 'pinchable butt.' Karl was able to tune her out as he took in the beauty of the magnificent work. He took in the contours of its muscular chest and back, the round full buttocks and long, strong arms. Coming around to the front of the statue, his eyes fell on the beautifully sculpted genitals. He felt himself plump in his boxers.
"If I can have your attention please," the docent said. The crowd slowly stopped moving
and turned to hear what the handsome young man had to say. Karl stopped to the left side of the statue and looked up into the youthful, handsome face.
"Michelangelo's David was commissioned in 1501 and was completed in 1504. It was unveiled in La Palazzo della Signoria. In 1873 it was moved here to La Galleria dell'Accademia in order to protect it from the effects of weather."
As the docent continued, Karl moved slowly to the front of the statue.
"It is sculpted of Tuscan marble." The docent continued talking, but Karl was barely listening. He was staring at the eyes of the statue as he slowly moved from the side to the front.
The eyes are following me, he thought. No, that can't be. He moved a bit more.
They are following me. How is that possible?
"Now do we have any questions? I will do my best to answer, if I can." The docent flashed his brilliant smile.
A man raised his hand.
"Yes?"
"I am a Jewish rabbi," a short balding man wearing a yarmulke began. "King David was a Jew. He would have been circumcised as prescribed by our religion. Why is this statue uncircumcised?"
There were a few flutters of embarrassed laughter.
The young docent cleared his throat. "That is a frequently asked question. No one knows the answer for certain, but it is speculated that Michelangelo's model may have been uncircumcised and therefore the Master was true to the reality he saw before him."
Myrna appeared beside Karl. "That Michelangelo fella, well he was one of them there homasexshals, that's what, and that there statue here is his model who he had in his bed."
She nodded her head at the end of her statement for emphasis.
Karl turned and looked at her. "Where'd you hear rubbish like that?"
"Them guys over there. And they would know. They's teachers!"
"Well, I'm a teacher, too," Karl retorted. "And I say that's a bunch of rubbish!"
Myrna shrugged her shoulders and walked away.
Karl looked up at the face of the statue. The eyes were still staring into his. Why am I defending you? After all it would be great to think you were getting it on with old Michel. Karl laughed softly. Did you just smile at me? Karl thought, addressing the statue. Then he admonished himself. Man, you're losing it!
The crowd began to thin out and left the Tribuna. Karl was reluctant to leave. He turned at the entrance and looked back one last time.
Well, goodbye, David. I wish you were real. I've never had a boyfriend or a friend of any kind I could love. I'd love to meet a guy like you.
The eyes still held his. Karl shook his head and left.
* * * *
After lunch at Café' Caracol, during which Myrna complained at length about traveling all the way to Italy and having to eat at Taco Bell when she wanted some good old Eyetalian pizza, Karl couldn't get the image of the statue out of his mind. He knew what his right hand fantasy relief would be when he was in his hotel room that night. He felt himself responding to the thought.
The bus rolled to a stop under the canopy of the Hotel Londra, returning from a tour of Florence's Historical Center. As Karl's group left the bus, he could hear a buzz of conversation from almost everyone they encountered on their way into the lobby.
Since Karl could not understand much, if any, Italian, he didn't pay particular attention to what was being said, merely noting that everyone seemed extremely excited. As he entered the elevator, he stepped aside to let a man and woman exit. As they passed, he caught a few words he understood.
"Si, La Galleria dell'Accademia, si."
That's odd, he thought. We were just there this morning. Wonder what went on?
Karl shook his head and shrugged his shoulders as he pushed the button for his floor. The doors closed. He took the elevator to the fourteenth floor. He got off and walked to his room. After inserting the keycard, the green light flashed and he let himself in. Walking into the room, he stood by the dresser where he took out his wallet and loose change. Karl looked up into the mirror and nearly passed out.
He wheeled around to face the bed.
"Hello," came a deep, rich voice.
There, lying naked on the bed, smiling broadly up at him, was the most beautiful young man he'd ever seen.
Karl, struggling to keep his balance, leaning back against the dresser, was finally able to squeak out, "Who are you?"
"I am Antonio," the youth responded in a lilting Italian accent. "Who are you?"
"Me? Ah...I'm Karl, Karl Simons."
Antonio rose from his reclining position and sat on the edge of the bed.
"It is nice to meet you, Karl Simons. But, I am a little confused. Where exactly am I?"
"You are...um..." Karl stammered, being distracted by the closeness of the gorgeous, naked young man. He had never in his life been this close to another disrobed human being. "Ah...in my room at the Londra Hotel." He swallowed hard.
Coming to his senses somewhat, it occurred to Karl to ask, "What are you doing in my room?"
"This is very curious. Your dress...this room, they are strange to me. And I do not know how I arrived here," Antonio continued conversationally as he looked around the room.
"You don't?" Karl asked, swallowing again.
Antonio casually scratched his balls. "No, I just opened my eyes and I was here."
Karl gulped. Again, struggling to overcome his confusion, he asked, "So, you don't remember how you got into my room?" Karl was beginning to think that perhaps the young man had been drinking and passed out in his bed by mistake.
The youth shook his head and smiled into Karl's eyes. Something was strangely familiar about those eyes. In fact, now that he thought about it, Karl felt like he had seen this man somewhere...recently.
"Do you remember where you were before you got here?"
"Yes, I was... That is strange I don't remember that either. But, it does seem like I was standing in a large room of some kind, with many people looking at me."
Antonio then looked down at his nakedness and said matter-of-factly, "I don't have any clothes on, do I?" With that he stood up and held his hands out at his sides, smiling once more.
Karl immediately and involuntarily let his eyes sweep from the youth's head to his toes, pausing briefly when they reached his midsection. He blushed. "No, you don't."
The phone rang. Karl jumped. Antonio walked to the device and stared at it. As he did, he turned his back to Karl, who was holding his breath at the sight of the shapely backside.
"Why is this ringing?" Antonio asked innocently.
"Someone is calling," Karl offered in way of explanation and walked toward the phone that was on the bedside stand between the two beds, surprised at the youth's ignorance.
In order to reach it, he had to pass Antonio, who obligingly turned sideways. As Karl sidled past him, he brushed against the man's flaccid penis. Karl felt a jolt of electricity course through his body. He froze and looked up into the face that smiled down on him.
"It is still ringing," Antonio said.
"Oh. Oh, yeah." Picking up the receiver, Karl said, "Hello?"
Antonio bent forward until his face was only centimeters from where Karl held the phone to his lips. He had a look of amazement on his face.
"Karl? Karl, are y'all there?" the voice on the other end of the line demanded.
"Yes, who is this?"
"It's Myrna, ya dummy," came the laughing reply. "Hey, ya'll got the TV on?"
Antonio looked even more astounded as the ivory object in Karl's hand spoke.
"No, I just got in." Karl's voice was strained. Antonio was still within inches of him.
"Well, turn it on and find that station that they talk American. Ya ain't gonna believe it."
The line went dead. Karl replaced the receiver.
"What did the device say to you?" Antonio asked, picking up the handset and staring curiously at it.
Karl swallowed once more and brushed past the naked youth again, this time lightly touching his side with his ha
nd.
"It...uh...she said to turn on the TV."
"The what?" Antonio turned and followed him across the room.
"The TV. You don't know what a TV is?"
"No, I am afraid I don't. Should I?"
"Well," said Karl, wondering what was going on, "it's an appliance that let's you...oh, come here, you'll see."
As Karl turned on the television and waited for it to warm up, he tried to comprehend what was happening. This beautiful young man was either trying to scam him or was in serious trouble of some kind.
The picture came up on the screen.
Antonio jumped backward a step and gasped, "My God!"
Karl looked over his shoulder at him and then back to the screen. This time it was his turn to cry, "My God!"
"The David has disappeared from La Galleria dell'Accademia." A TV camera was scanning the Tribuna of David showing an empty plinth. "At closing, security guards were checking to make sure all visitors had left, and the plinth on which the fourteen foot, six-ton statue had stood, was empty. Michelangelo's masterpiece has been on display since..."
Karl stood, frozen to the spot, astounded. The statue was mammoth. The docent said it had taken weeks to move it to La Galleria. How could anyone even conceive of trying to steal it? At that point an image of the statue came on the screen, focusing mainly on the upper body. As the face came into view, Karl looked from the screen to the young man that stood in his room.
"This is impossible. It can't be... you can't be!"
But, the resemblance was undeniable. Michelangelo's David was standing in his room, in the flesh!
* * * *
Antonio was gazing at the screen, a curious look on his face. "That looks like the statue Micho made of me for the Operia," the young man said.
Karl looked at him. "You're saying you were the model for the David? But that was over five hundred years ago! How can you be that person?"
"Five hundred years?" Antonio responded casually. "I cannot understand that either. But that is the statue he made from the clay models he had me pose for him. I remember how proud he was when it was presented at the Palazzo della Signoria. I remember as well how we celebrated that night." He paused and a sad look came across his face. "That was our last night together as lovers. The next day he told me I would have to leave, that the work was done and he was returning to Rome. I could not go with him."
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