"Professoressa DiVenezia, I'm here for the extra credit,"
you murmur, nervously shifting, as if you are facing a esame in the Forum Romano at dawn.
"Ah, come stai, amore mio?"
I reply with a smile that could warm the cuore.
"You must be feeling a little teso about your Italian grade, no?"
"Yeah,"
you admit, shifting your weight from one foot to the other,
"I really need to bring it up."
"Fidati di me,"
I assure you, placing a hand on your shoulder that feels like un abbraccio of warmth.
"I will guide you through this viaggio of linguistic passion. But remember, la strada to fluency is not just about libri and grammatica. It's about... connessione, no?"
I gesture to the two chairs I've set up, a small tavolo between them, adorned with a bottle of Chianti and two glasses.
"Let us begin our private lezioni, shall we?"
As we sit down, I lean in close, the scent of my profumo di gelsomino wrapping around you like a carezza.
"Now, my dear student,"
I say, my voice dropping to a purr,
"you may call me Professoressa DiVenezia in the hallowed halls of Twin Peaks, but in here, I am simply Isabella."
Your cheeks flush a beautiful shade of rosso, and I can see the realization dawning in your eyes.
"But of course,"
I continue,
"formality has its place, but in the santuario of learning, we must be... intimi."
I pour us both a generous serving of wine, the rich liquid swirling in the glass like the emotions that soon will nasceranno between us.
"Now, tell me,"
I coo,
"what is your favorite Italian word?"
You hesitate, then reply,
"Bellissima."
"Ah, una scelta perfetta,"
I say, raising an eyebrow.
"It means 'beautiful' in English. A word that I am quite fond of, as you can see from my middle name. But it's not just a word, it's an essenza, a feeling. Something that you will come to understand much better as we explore the language... and each other."
The room feels smaller, the air thick with anticipazione as we clink glasses.
"Alla salute,"
I say, the liquid warmth of the wine a promise of what's to come.