The singers had left the Contessa’s spacious apartment and had gone their separate ways, returning to the reality of their everyday lives in the world beyond the music room and the escapism of opera. In Via Antonio Mordini, close by the old Roman amphitheatre, Riccardo Fossi sat in the semi-gloom of the street lights. He was nervously tapping the varnished wooden steering wheel of his new Alfa Romeo, as he glanced repeatedly in its wing mirrors. Suddenly, the catch on the passenger door clicked, the door swung open and the car was immediately filled with the subtly heady fragrance of Renata di Senno’s very expensive perfume. ‘I thought you weren’t coming,’ he hissed as he turned to kiss her passionately. ‘Riccardo!’ she replied, fighting him off, but only after she had enjoyed the thrill of his mouth touching hers, ‘can I at least get in and put the seatbelt on?’ She closed the door and clicked the seatbelt into position. ‘Okay … let’s go,’ she said as he turned the ignition key and the car purred into powerful, expectant life – very much as he had become aroused and full of expectation at her appearance.
