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Cardinal Borgia carried her in his arms, easily and comfortably, into the bedroom.
She was light, and she fell limply into his arms, clinging to his long neck. “Go on, take
me, father.”
He dropped her lightly onto his bed, and climbed on top of her. She held out his
arms to stop him. “Let’s do it gently, father,” she said, “slowly, and gently. Let me show
you how….”
The following morning, when they woke up after a long night of passionate love
making, with her teaching him some of the tricks she learnt growing up in the ghettos of
Rome, he felt drained and tired. She still looked fresh as she made breakfast for him, both
of them nude.
“Were you sleeping yesterday when I knocked, my father,” she asked, “when
I knocked on your door. You took a long time to answer.” They were just finishing
breakfast.
Suddenly Cardinal Borgia remembered the ivory trophy in the wooden box hidden
in his closet. He had completely forgotten about it. He told her the entire story.
“Will you please show me this ivory object, my father,” she pleaded.
He thought about it briefly, and got up slowly. He went to open the wardrobe. He
brought out the box, and removed the tablecloth with which he wrapped the box. He set
the box on a table in the study, and he gently opened its lid. Paulina gasped as she saw the
beautiful ivory object in the box.
“The Pope does not want it?’ she asked.
“Said it was heathen,” Cardinal Borgia said.
“I think it is beautiful,” she said.
“I think so too,” Cardinal Borgia said. “The Holy father probably thinks it is