CASANOVA SCHOOL

Chapter 1

Wednesday, July 13, 2039.

Not far from The Gardens of Sallust, the big Rome Termini Train Station is already swarming with sweaty passengers toting their miscellaneous luggage, all the time in a hurry, as if the apocalypse were closing in on. The area is already sweltering in heat as the clock strikes ten. Strolling up and down in the huge lounge floored in grey marble, the women wear diaphanous low-necked mini sundresses in various dazzling colors and broad-brimmed hats, while the men sport T-shirts and Bermuda shorts patterned with either flowers or maritime creatures. The Venice-bound high-speed train starts off on time in a deafening noise. Amongst the passengers on board, there are six noticeable brawny male students and six plump female students with plenteous bosoms bulging out. They look somnolent out of tiredness, as nine of them have arrived at Leonardo da Vinci-Fiumicino Airport from quite distant countries. The adage All the roads lead to Rome turns out not to be an anecdotal joke. As a matter of fact, the roundness of the six young females has drawn the attention of testosterone-coaxed adults and snooping, bony old Italians alike.

Kevin, a hefty Afro-American from New York with thick frizzy black hair, black eyes and shoulders, lowers his round sunglasses toward the tip of his big nose, pulls out his iPhone Zeta and fumbles with it for a while.

"According to His Holiness Google, we'll be in Venice in about four hours."

"I'm looking forward to plopping down unclothed on those delightful beds of Casanova School!" Kent-born Julia says salaciously. She is eighteen years old, fleshy, ruddy-complexioned, with carrot-dyed coiled hair and hazel eyes. The ample cleavage formed by her breasts could nurse a forlorn man's head.

Kaja from Tbilissi, a chubby blonde with alluring curves, emerald green eyes, straight nose and full rosy lips, beams excitedly. "Not before taking a hot foamy bath!"

"I'd rather rub my clit!" Nada snaps obscenely. She is a young brunette from Murcia, honey-eyed, auburn-haired, jowly-faced, and curvy to divert a castrated monk.

Sabine, a heavy-breasted girl from Switzerland with blue eyes, glossy long flaxen hair pulled back and healthy cheeks, lifts her penciled eyebrows and giggles. "Let's be virtuous till we reach the school of voluptuousness!"

Chunky Laura from Louvain-la-Neuve strokes the bare filled thighs of the Swedish stunner Ursula. "I wonder who'll be quenching my thirst once there."

Smooth-skinned Ursula purrs into her left ear, "You'll drown in a sperm pond, I'm afraid."

Hans, a young strapping man from Pforzheim with a short-cropped reddish-blond hair, winkles at Laura and assures her in an unctuous voice: "Don't be worry, dear Belgian lady. Tools are all primed to send you in the seventh sky thrice a day."

Laura and Ursula let out a naughty laugh, as though an upshot of an unexpected defloration.

Florent is a full-bodied young Parisian with square shoulders, an elongated face, keen grayish eyes, short black hair, bearing a pale blue tattoo on the right side of his neck referring to two oversized testes. He chortles, then wonders with a drawling tone of a man who has yet to drink from the chalice of Epicurus. "All I need is absolute treats out there. Back in France, people try to get rid of stress and anxiety by watching the summer cycling competition. They just take to bed at irregular intervals! Women are rather frigid and men are moderately impotent out of everyday petty worries!"

Ennio is a handsome Roman to the core. He has picked up the foreigners from the airport. Still in his early twenties, with a gleaming oval face, a well-built chest, a skin typically Mediterranean, medium-sized brown eyes and strait black hair, he is endowed with biceps and triceps that could make any reluctant virgin kneel down and put an end to her abstinence. He clears his throat and says nastily: "Believe me, miei amici stranieri, you'll have plenty of incredible fun in the scuola. I did experience it last year. Infinite pleasure! At last, Pompeii has shaken its olden ash out!"

With a swarthy skin and a hair of black curls, Portuguese Salvador is confident of his physical assets, tallness and muscularity. He talks cheekily. "Enough chitchat! We, dudes, have all been chosen for our astounding balls."

The six young maidens trade concupiscent glances, bite their pulpous lower lips and let their swollen buttocks shiver in anticipation, slobbering at the prospect of impending carnal delights they will be enjoying after a harassing year of studies at their respective universities.

Karl, a tall and portly Austrian young man with a pasty skin mottled with freckles, sprawls his well-muscled right arm, touching inadvertently the firm rump of Nada, who holds back a sigh, a bit confused. "Be patient, liebe Freunde. We'll sweat there like horny gorillas!"

As the train hisses unfalteringly up northeast, cutting through the engrossing Italian sceneries and sun-drenched small villages, the twelve students fall into silence and think again about the rules Casanova School has set to let in young nominees athirst of exquisite erotic feats to forget a decrepit world entangled in its unending conflicts, chronic anguishes, unspeakable cruelties, and excruciating woes.