My Summer Romance Page 3

  “It’s called pappardelle.” Alberto said as he tipped a portion of the thickest spaghetti I’d ever seen onto my plate. A few seconds later he followed it up with a meaty sauce. “The sauce contains wild boar and tomatoes grown on the estate – Fresh.” He said as though the final word made all the difference in the world.

  “Dad makes the best pappardelle.” Alessia chimed in, smiling at Alberto.

  The smell had been drifting through the house while we played Ikari Warriors, in silence, and in truth I just couldn’t wait to get the damn game over with and eat. In fact, Alessia’s comment about the pappardelle was the first I’d heard her speak since giving me an impromptu massage.

  Alessia’s phone vibrated on the table. She picked it up, fired out a rapid message and returned it next to her plate.

  We’d brought the remainder of our wine to the table and now Alberto poured more into our glasses. “When in Rome.” He said, taking his seat at the table.

  I brought a couple slices of bread toward my plate. If the pappardelle didn’t soak up the alcohol then the bread sure would.

  “So, Dayna, you’re still having fun here I take it?” Alberto asked while ravelling the obscenely thick spaghetti around his fork. “Long days in the hot Tuscan sun are not getting you down I hope?”

  I took a second to answer. “I am still enjoying myself, thanks.” Though from the look on his face, he sensed something was not quite right. The tone in my voice may have had a touch of unhappiness to it.

  Alberto was about to say something when Alessia’s phone vibrated loud on the table.

  Alessia picked it up and fired off another quick message. “The English are in great need of vitamin D.” She said while still staring at her phone, though the comment was directed not toward me but to her dad. From the look of her body it seemed as though she was swinging her legs to and fro below her chair. And in any case, I’d never told her I was English. Had she been told by her dad that an English girl was staying here? Or perhaps it was just too obvious in conversation that I was from England. More questions flew around my head and it was all due to this girl who had somehow managed to get to me.

  “Well you’ve certainly browned a shade or two.” Alberto said, looking at me. He shovelled more pappardelle in his mouth, having forgotten what he was about to say earlier.

  The work here at the Villa di Giordano was enjoyable, I had no problem with that side of things. The main problem this past month was that I’d been lonely. And now with Alessia here I’d at least have somebody to talk to in the evenings, somebody my own age, even if from what little I knew, she didn’t act it. Surely I could learn to put up with her and make the next two months more tolerable for myself. It all depended on whether or not she’d be sticking around for the duration of the time I remained here. I decided that rather than hope that particular topic came up naturally in conversation at the dinner table, that I should just ask her straight out myself.

  “So, Alessia, how long were you planning on sticking around here for? I take it you spend most of your time in Milano these days?” I tried my hardest to sound casual, asking while I spread butter over a piece of bread.

  I noticed Alberto turn toward his daughter, as though he wanted to know the answer to that very question himself?

  Alessia’s damn phone vibrated again.

  “Will you tell Marco to quit texting while we’re eating.” It was the first time I’d heard Alberto raise his voice, or at least it was his attempt at berating his wayward daughter. But more to the bloody point – Who the heck was Marco? Did Alessia have a boyfriend? If so then why did she play games with me? Why did she borderline seduce me before turning cold again?

  “They’re not all from Marco.” Alessia chided before looking at me for the first time since sitting down.

  Then I felt the contact from her foot below the table. At first it was a slight brush, which I assumed was a consequence of her swinging her feet about. The second contact followed a few seconds later and was a slow rub up my calf with her toes. That can’t have been accidental. Yet Alessia simply continued to text on her phone without looking up. I tucked my legs in beneath my chair, out of range of Alessia’s prying feet.

  I thought about dropping Patrick’s name into the conversation in order to imply to this girl that I had a boyfriend and more to the point, that I was straight. But as soon as that idea popped into my head, I decided it was wrong bringing Patrick into this. Considering that I didn’t love him in that kind of way, it wouldn’t be right to use him as some sort of a pawn and besides, to name him in order to put an end to this harassment would be undignified on my part - I was better than that.

  The sound of static came from the security panel in the corner of the room. “Hi, Alessia? It’s Marco.” Came the scratchy voice through the small speaker.

  “He’s here.” Beamed Alessia as she stood to press the button that opened the gates.

  Alberto sat back in his chair, exhaling and shooting a look of displeasure at his daughter, though he seemed to tolerate the disturbance.

  After a few minutes the clang of the front door opening was followed by the thud of it closing. I tried to feign disinterest by concentrating on my meal. I sensed Alessia was paying close attention to me and any reaction I’d give when this Marco guy finally entered.

  “Ciao Bella.” Came the clichéd greeting from a man’s voice behind me. Then Marco walked round the table and half bowed in order to kiss Alessia on the cheek, who in turn threw her arms round his shoulders in a strong embrace.

  Marco straightened up, turned to Alberto before shaking his hand. Then looking at me, I watched a broad smile emerge on his face. “And Signora, who are you?” He walked back around the table to my side, taking my hand before kissing the area of skin just above my knuckles. It really was difficult not to be charmed by such behaviour.

  “Hello, I’m Dayna.” I said, noticing the brief cold stare from Alessia.

  Alberto set out a plate for Marco along with a generous portion of pappardelle. Marco then took it upon himself to fill everybody’s wine glasses, although mine was already close to the brim. He had kind blue eyes and long brown hair that was pulled in to a bundle at the back of his head. A look which would not suit everybody, yet this man pulled it off with ease. His finely trimmed beard gave an extra element to his face which had an overall warm quality to it. His nature was easy, as though he dealt with all kinds of people during his days.

  “They are old friends from childhood.” Alberto said, gesturing with his head toward the two. Though from how Marco sat with Alessia’s hand in his lap, it was obvious they were, or at least had been more than friends.

  “Alessia is the love of my life.” Marco said, though I knew this was how many Italian men were around women and that such statements in Italy meant something completely different back in England.

  “What do you do, Marco?” I asked.

  “I’m a tour guide in Firenze.”

  “So you must know all the best places to go then?”

  “Signora, I could show you the most beautiful wonders Firenze has to offer.”

  Alessia’s eyes widened for the briefest of flashes before she shifted ever so slightly in her chair. Was she jealous? There was no need – My interpretation was that Marco was merely stating his knowledge of the city, rather than offering an actual invitation to show me around it.

  “Maybe you could show Dayna Firenze, Marco.” Alberto suggested. “The girl has worked hard for over a month, she deserves to see more of Tuscany than just this vineyard.”

  Marco’s face sprang to life, an action which wasn’t lost on Alessia.

  “It would be a pleasure.” He said with a broad grin. “We can go tomorrow.”

  “It’s a wonderful offer, and I’d truly love to visit Firenze, but I have to work tomorrow.”

  “Nonesense.” Alberto said. “You now have tomorrow off. That’s all there is to it.” He stood, took his wine and left the room.

  “Looks like you’ve
been told.” Marco said.

  Alessia took a sip from her wine, her glass now less full than everybody else’s. She looked increasingly uncomfortable as the conversation progressed, which I had to admit, gave me a small amount of pleasure. “Ok, so what time are we leaving?” Alessia sat back with a plump as she spoke, her arms folded over her breasts. Was she trying to take control of the situation? She really was poor at hiding her jealousy.

  “The earlier the better.” Marco said to her, but then looked back to me. “There’s so much to see - We can skip the line at the Uffizi gallery as well as the Academia. I will also get us inside gratis Signora. I’m friends with the manager of a restaurant that overlooks the Duomo, so we’ll have magnificent tables there. I also have a few surprises in store.”

  This was exciting. I’d always wanted to visit the renaissance capital and it looked like I’d have my own tour guide as well as free entrance to the best attractions. How could a girl complain? It would also be a chance to discover just what Alessia was about, to try and figure her out a little.

  Marco lit the candles which were on the table and we drank wine while he spoke of the city and his promises for the next day. He was passionate about his work which was endearing. Throughout, he and Alessia held hands and every time he let go in order to gesticulate, she would always grab his hand again, pulling it into her lap. She tried to do it in a subtle way, but sometimes she failed miserably and it looked like overcompensation, like she was making a statement by keeping him close – and away from me. I wasn’t a complete idiot when it came to these things. I knew there were motives behind Alessia’s possessiveness. Either she was warning me off Marco, or she was insecure about something else – And I guessed that something else was me. I wanted to be her friend, I knew that much. That was the type of person I was and it would sure make the rest of my time here more enjoyable.

  “Do you have a boyfriend back home?” Marco asked. You had to hand it to them. These Italian men were straight to the point.

  Alessia looked right at me, interested in hearing the answer. I hadn’t wanted to bring Patrick into this, but since I was asked the question first, I was not going to lie either. As I thought about how I’d respond, I realised the answer I was about to give was more for Alessia’s benefit than for Marco. More importantly, and for whatever reason, I realised I wanted to get a reaction out of Alessia, that I wanted to make her jealous. The scary thing was that I didn’t know why.

  “Yes!” I said. “He’s called Patrick and we’ve been seeing each other for about a year.” I didn’t catch their reactions as I chose to stare glassy eyed at the candle as I spoke, I figured I owed Patrick that much.

  “I’d say this Patrick is a lucky man.” Marco said.

  This prompted Alessia to throw his hands back into his lap with a sudden fury. She then stood with the scrape of wood on stone then she slid her chair under the table with force before storming from the room.

  Marco tipped back in his chair, hands clasped behind his head. “Ouch, something I said?”

  Firenze

  I woke extra early. So early in fact that I tried returning to sleep. It turned out to be an exercise in futility and I couldn’t figure out if it was due to the excitement of the coming day, or because of Alessia and her histrionics.

  At six in the morning I threw back the covers and staggered toward the shower. As the warm water cascaded down upon me, I thought about Marco. He was devilishly attractive in the stereotypical Italian sense and I’d found myself moved by his natural charm. However, as my hands ran down my body toward my pussy, what alarmed me was that it was not Marco in my thoughts. It was Alessia. And they weren’t exactly thoughts, but fantasies.

  I felt goose bumps on my skin, which was strange because the water was warm. As I pictured Alessia’s long brown hair flowing over her shoulders, I realised I hadn’t even seen her hair untied – This was purely my own mind inventing images of that girl. I pressed two finger tips over my exposed outer lips and rubbed, gradually increasing speed and pressure. Alessia’s slender waist and broad thighs filled my mind as I ran my hands up toward her breasts and pressing my tongue over her nipple.

  I stooped forward and held onto the wall with one hand while the other explored my depths. I trembled, my knee shaking as an explosion of ecstasy erupted from the pit of my stomach.

  That was a new experience for me. That was the first time in my entire life I’d masturbated while images of another girl filled my mind. Yes, it was a weird revelation which left me a slight bit confused. As I stepped out from the shower and dried myself, it dawned on me what was going on. There really were not that many people I’d been in contact with lately and seeing another attractive person, even if it was another girl, had left myself with few alternative options for mental stimulation. If this occurred back home in England and I was hanging out with Alessia with men present as well, then I doubted I’d have been fantasising about her, but most likely one of the men. I realised there was Marco too, but he had facial hair and I’d never been attracted to guys with facial hair. The fact that I’d chosen to masturbate to mental images of Alessia over Marco still felt weird to me, but I had no doubt it was a one off. We had only met yesterday. She had made a big impression on me. And now, I had it out of my system. I could now get on with being a regular member of the heterosexual community, after my all too brief liaison, if only mental, with lesbianism.

  A knock on the door jolted me from my thoughts. I threw on my dressing gown and tied the cord as I approached the door.

  “Yes?” I asked, opening the door a few inches.

  “Hi. Can I use your shower? The other one isn’t working.” It was Alessia who peered in through the small crack.

  “Um, yeah, I guess so. I’m finished with it now anyway.” I opened the door.

  Alessia glided into my room, heading straight for the en suite without a second glance at me. She wore a fluffy white dressing gown, the smell of fabric softener flowing over my face as she past by. I didn’t want to look at her legs as she strolled through the room, but it was either that or stare straight at the door. Besides, she was only visible below the knees; her slender calves exhibited a touch of hard muscle each time she toed off the ground. The girl was in good shape, there was no doubt about that.

  Well I’d now have to get dressed with Alessia showering in my bathroom, which under the circumstances felt a little weird for this virgin country girl. I really should learn to get out a little more because girls do this sort of thing all the time and besides, there’d be a door separating us. Well it wasn’t exactly what I’d call a door - more a thin screen that unfolded to a close as it slid across the entryway.

  Only, as Alessia walked through to the en suite, she neglected the need to close the screen. Had she been born in a barn? Then all movement seemed to stop. She certainly hadn’t stepped into the bath because I’d have heard and seen the shower curtain pulled back. The angle of the door frame prevented me from seeing what she was actually doing so I crept further into the centre of the room until gradually she came into view. She was standing, facing away from me, at the shower control panel in seeming contemplation. Then her robe fell to the floor to reveal bare flesh. Her perfect form flashed before me as I span away from the sight. It all happened so fast, I really had been quite unprepared for it. All my memory managed to record was the deep tanned colour of her skin along with the shape of her bum for the slightest of seconds. As I closed my eyes, that shape now pushed itself to the forefront – What was happening to me?

  The sound of plastic shower rings sliding along the metal rail struck me from my daze just as Alessia turned the water on. Steam already began swirling above the shower curtain.

  Once again I found my head spinning and all because of this one pesky girl. How would I survive the coming day?

  Seriously – Why was she taking a shower in my bedroom? Was this some sort of a plan to get me interested in her? To get me thinking about her? Because it was kind of working, a bit, I thin
k.

  I needed confirmation. I had to find out for sure. Was the other shower really broken?

  I made my way down the hallway and into the communal bathroom and closed the door behind me. I’d not been in this room before - why would I, considering I had my own bathroom? There were no other people who slept on the top floor since Alberto and Maria were one floor down and I assumed would have use of their own en suite bathroom.

  I looked at the tap that would switch the shower on, placed my hand upon it and slowly turned.

  Nothing.

  Then after a small pause, a faint juddering echoed from the wall the shower was fixed to, as though the pipes were trying to force water through, but were failing miserably. Fearing this noise would be audible throughout the entire house, I turned the tap to a close and sat on the edge of the bath.

  Was I going insane?

  Alessia was not lying to me and she was playing no games either. This was all in my head. Considering what her family were doing for me and how much I thought of her parents, I felt shame for my suspicions with regards to their daughter, their beautiful daughter Alessia. If there were any problems here then they lay with me, in my own mind.

  Enough! No more, Dayna! Get a grip!

  I left the bathroom and as I did, Marco was leaving the room opposite. The same room which I knew belonged to Alessia. What’s more – he wore a robe. It was light purple and way too small for him, so I figured it had to be one of Alessia’s.

  “Buongiorno.” He said, yawning and wiping at his eyes.

  So Marco had spent the night with Alessia. I’d half suspected he’d be staying over anyway. So why did it bother me so much?

  *

  The fact was that the entire city of Firenze was a work of art. Actually going inside the Uffizi Gallery to look at renaissance art was a mere extension of that. The early September queues stretched round the sides of the five hundred year old inverted u-shaped building and being able to enter the gallery through a staff entrance was a giant perk.