Welcome to the 110th sexy saturday!
This piece is from Ardent Fire, a WIP about artists and workshops in Renaissance Florence…
The gray-haired master raised his hand and smiled. “Good day, Master Morello.”
Master Zeno’s companion, a tall young man with flowing golden hair, took the older man’s pack for him and shouldered the straps of both. The young man brushed dust from the sleeve of his sweat-stained linen shirt, slapped more dust from his long thighs, and ran a forearm across his brow.
“Who’s the beauty with the master?” Donato stood at the window yawning and scratching his stomach. He shaded his eyes for a better look into the misty glare of the afternoon.
Donato’s fellow journeyman Primo jumped to his feet and crowded against Morello in the doorway. “Can it be? He’s brought Tagliaferro?”
Donato groaned. “The man you’ve been mooning about since you last went to Florence, Primo? You’ve only just finally shut up about him.”
Morello ignored them. His irritation over his interrupted walk had vanished. Primo’s garlic and onion-laden breath on his neck registered only remotely as he gazed out at the man from Florence. Morello stepped out into the sunlight that appeared to pour itself over this golden-haired Tagliaferro, to whom Morello stretched his hand out in greeting. Maintaining frank eye contact, Tagliaferro adjusted the packs and took his hand.
When flesh met flesh, Morello stumbled—at least, his heart did. As if the wind from the beating wings of the love-inspiring putti he had painted just this morning pushed them together.