Date: Fri, 15 Apr 2005 07:10:24 -0400
From: SSch191950@aol.com
Subject: The Lizard (part 1), chapter 15

THE LIZARD - Primavera
by Stefan

Comments and suggestions are welcome

__________

15
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A nightingale lamented muffled into the silent night, while Luca's eyes
started to flutter sleepily only to be awakened again by Alessandro's
demanding tongue.



The nightingale had been over taken by a lark, announcing the early morning
hour when Luca awoke alone in the bed. His searching hand found nothing
more than cold bed sheets and the imprint where Sandro's head had
been. Luca though cuddled with his pillow, turned on his side, sleepily
thinking that Sandro was just peeing and fell asleep again.


Sunday morning in Florence was a silent hour. The tourists were still
sleeping in their hotel beds, and the inhabitants did the same, before they
prepared to attend church service and afterwards having an extended meal
with Mamma's home cooking.  The Italian Sunday belongs solely to family,
but when Alessandro was crossing the street from his palazzo to reach his
aim, he saw some pulled up shutters where the shop inhabitants had already
prepared the displays for tourists, preferably shoes, bags and souvenirs.

He breathed in the balmy air. Although the town was made from stone and not
from trees and flowers, there was a spicy scent coming from the river,
mingling with the dry smell of sunburnt stone and incense streaming from
open churches.

It was a beautiful morning and yet Alessandro's heart was heavy.  This
afternoon he would have to leave his home town and he debated with himself
if it was the right decision, now that he had met Luca.  He hated to leave
him. But he loved to gain the education he was longing for. Perhaps it had
been wrong to chose the university at Pisa when he could have studied here
at one of the Florentine institutes. But they weren't universities and he
wouldn't be able to get the right degree to work in one of the scientific
institutes of the museums or as certificated guide for art-historical
interested tourists. He would only remain a second class guide, showing the
usual spots, giving as little information as he could, giving out tips for
an evening's entertainment, for brothels and discotheque's and that would
be all.

He stuffed his hands into his trouser pockets. Despite all his gloomy
thoughts his face radiated. He had spent a wonderful night with Luca and
why should this be the end? They could see each other each weekend, and in
August started the long break that they could spend together wherever Luca
wanted; money wasn't a problem. Although.... Alessandro wasn't as rich as
Luca seemed to think. He had the monthly income from his father's
inheritance. The rest of it was under the management of his uncle Arrigo
until.... until he would marry and father a son.

Sure he could spend it right now, but he would have to give a report on
what and why he would spend it, in case he didn't marry and have a son
because then everything would fall into the hands of the monks. What an
obnoxious thought. Not that he wasn't willing to give money for charity,
completely the opposite. But he felt very queasy at the thought of seeing
the hard-earned family money, gathered over centuries, in the possession of
foreign people who would do God knows what with it.

He stopped in his walking and held his face into the sun. A slight sting in
his back entrance reminded him of the pleasures of last night. How would he
manage to abstain from all of that? Could he trust Luca? Could he trust
himself? He squinted against the sun and continued his walk, until he
reached his goal. Palazzo Pucci, a similar monster of Pietra Serena like
the one his family owned. Iron rings as fixtures for horses reins and
torches, stony benches besides the bronze entrance door, rejecting and
intimidating.

Alessandro didn't hesitate, entered, crossed the square yard straight to
the opposite door and stepped into a hall, not bothering with ringing or
knocking. He knew that Emilio was always up in the early morning hours. The
hall was decorated with huge modern paintings - an odd contrast to the
Renaissance palace. A staircase led on the right hand side up to the other
floors, but Alessandro turned left where a small plate of noble
understatement announced 'Emilio Pucci - Fashion Designer'.

He found Emilio and his young lover at the breakfast table near the large
windows, that were covered with plants of all sorts. A large date palm
needed the whole space of the corner and under it stood wicker chairs and
tables where on them Emilio had put the coffee pot and plates with
marmalade and honey.

   "Ah, there you are. You're early", Emilio said in his deep, somewhat
dragging voice. His lover turned and beamed. "We saw you yesterday at
'Tosca' in the box with your little friend", he said. "But you didn't see
us."

   "Surely I've seen you both", Alessandro answered. "Amidst the plebs in
the stalls, why was that? Have you rented your box out?" He pulled a chair
to the table and sat down.

   "Sometimes it's helpful to breathe the smell of plebs", Emilio said
winking.

   "Snob."

The young man - black hair and black eyes, a little goatee leading down
from under the lip to his chin - pushed him a plate and toast. "Coffee or
tea?" he asked.


The connections of the Gondi's with the Pucci's have been legendary.  Both
families were one of the oldest in Florence, both had been silk merchants,
and while the Gondi's could save their money over the years, the Pucci's
name was only held by the recent wealth of their latest offspring, Emilio,
world-wide acclaimed fashion designer with ateliers in Paris and
London. But here, at his old family palace, he had his very own, private
studio where he designed clothes and invented new patterns, shown on the
catwalks in Roma, Milano, New York and Tokyo.

   "Vittorio, gioia, would you be so lovely as to bring it by? You know
where it is", Emilio asked the young man who rose and left the room.

Emilio turned to Alessandro, leaning over the table, his anthracite eyes
under the bushy eyebrows searching. "It's for the young man you were
withyesterday, right?"

Alessandro nodded.

   "He'll look so pretty in those clothes." His fingers combed his
ice-grey, thick hair. "I've never seen him, though. What's his name? He
can't belong to the society."

   "Pah, society. I told you, you're a snob, Emilio. What's with him?" He
made a movement towards the door where Vittorio had vanished. "Where did
you pick him up?"

Emilio laughed roaring. "He's one of my models from Milano."

   "Ah!"

Vittorio returned, walking graceful like a dancer, shirt open to reveal his
six-pack and the brown, hairless chest, that was decorated with a low hung
chain with an artistic pendant. He carried a pack of clothes that was
enveloped by a plastic bag and gave it Emilio who unpacked it carefully.

   "You said you were of the same figure and height, so I hope it fits", he
said, lifting out a soft suede jacket of a light brown colour, with
light-red and blue applications of a typical Pucci-pattern.

Alessandro unwrapped the matching trousers. "Marvellous", he said, admiring
the work. It snuggled perfectly to the hand.

   "Your farewell-gift?"

   "Sort of", Alessandro mumbled. Suddenly he thought it stupid. When would
Luca be able to wear it? He shook his head. Of course he would have dozens
of opportunities to wear it. When they would go out for instance.

   "You outdid yourself, Emilio, it's terrific. And now to the business
side of things. Quanta costa?"

Emilio grinned and winked at Vittorio. "Friendship price as agreed.  One
hundred Euros for the sake of old times. It's just the price of the
leather."

Alessandro knew that Emilio was understating, but he didn't want to hurt
the older man. He beamed and nodded. "Great. For old times' sake."




Luca was still sleeping when Alessandro returned on tiptoes, then kneeling
beside the bed and kissing Luca on his cheek. "Hey, sleepy head, time to
wake up."

Luca stirred, turned on his back and sighed. "Where have you been?" he
muttered, eyes still closed. Alessandro looked down and his heart hurt. He
left the gifts where they were - upon the table - hurried to undress and
crawled under the blankets. It was still early morning and they had plenty
of time.  Luca embraced him, cuddled with him for a while until both felt
the familiar feeling of arousal again that needed to be satisfied.


   "I have something for you", Alessandro whispered, jumped out of the bed
and went to his cupboard where he kept Masolino's diary, and opened it. He
pulled out a package and a little, longish box and returned. While Luca was
watching him, he remembered that this was their last day together, or
worse, what was left of it. His stomach tightened painfully when he saw
Sandro's naked body, the long, straight legs walking and his equipment ,
that brought so much pleasure, hanging between. Then he laughed at
himself. Was it just THAT which brought him pleasure? Or rather the whole
young man?

   "What are you laughing about?" Alessandro looked down on
himself. "Alright, it's still drooling", he chuckled then. "Probably
because it's still not satisfied, eh?"

Luca's cheeks reddened. "You're a slut. What do you have there?" He
recognized Masolino's diary.

   "It's for you. Please take good care of it while I'm away, promise?"

Luca swallowed with excitement. Finally he would be able to read all of it.

   "And here's something else." Alessandro pushed Luca aside and let
himself fall between the sheets. Then he opened the long box and tickled
Luca's nose with the pendant hanging on a long, golden chain. "That's the
Gondi-cross. Everyone of our family has one."

Luca grabbed it and sat upright. He stared wide-eyed at it. It was made of
heavy, red shimmering gold and enamel in white and red. "You can't give me
that", he stammered finally. "That's too precious. And it's yours. You..."

   "Shhh. It's mine, I can do what I like with it. And it's a promise to
return." He bent down and kissed Luca's lips, still open in
astonishment. Luca's fingers enclosed the cool cross as he sunk back
between the pillows, embracing Alessandro's body while his heart beat loud
and painfully. "You act as if you were going to America", he said
indistinctly between kisses. "I know you'll return. Otherwise I'll come to
Pisa and tell you off."

   "Sure you'll come to Pisa. What about next weekend?" Alessandro's
fingers crawled upon Luca's body from chest to his abdomen, wiping away
white stains. Luca's stomach jerked and he wriggled. Alessandro's
forefinger stroked gently along Luca's soft penis, then to the surface of
his smooth balls. Luca jerked again and chuckled. "Do you have a single
room at the student's hostel?" he asked.

   "Don't know. I guess so."

   "You think I can stay overnight then?"

Alessandro's head had went down, pushing the covers completely aside and
gnawed slightly at Luca's shaft with his teeth. Luca's member rose within
the blink of an eye to full length. "If that is still working that way when
we're fifty..." Alessandro mumbled, taking it into his mouth.


It was noon when both weren't able to do anything more. Both complained
about pain and soreness, but took it easy. It was between coffee and the
remains of the dinner from last evening when Luca pointed to the parcel. He
had hung the Gondi-cross around his neck, left his shirt open, so that he
felt the cool gold between his pecs. He looked almost like Vittorio,
Alessandro thought, just with blond hair. Without a word he took the
parcel. "Unwrap."

Luca did and gasped. The suede felt extraordinarily soft. It would fit like
a glove. But then he let the clothes sink into his lap and stared at
Alessandro. "Why do you give me all this? You embarrass me. I've got
nothing for you."

   "I thought you would like it." Alessandro sounded somehow disappointed,
so Luca dashed around the table and knelt down beside his boyfriend. "I
love it, Sandro, really. It's just, expensive gifts are given so seldom in
my family. We don't have much, so those gifts are welcomed the more. And
they embarrass me, you understand?"

Alessandro looked at him. "Because you feel obligated now?"

Luca nodded.

Alessandro stroked his cheek. "That's the difference of our two worlds. For
us, gifts are meaningless. You know, money can't be responsible for making
an asshole of you. It's rather that money reveals your true being. With
money you can act as you are. Treat people bad if you feel like it." He
grinned. "But if you're good guy you please people."

Luca grinned too. "So you wanted to tell me that you're the good guy,
right?"

   "Right. No, I'm selfish." Alessandro smirked now and ruffled Luca's
already dishevelled hair. "I want to see you in that outfit. Now."

Luca rose and dropped his shirt and jeans. A minute later a young
heart-breaker stood in front of Alessandro. "Where would I wear this?" Luca
asked, turning in front of the mirror in the wardrobe.

   "When you go out with me, next time."

Luca detected the label of Pucci inside the jacket and almost
shrieked. "What's that? You're friends with Pucci, are you? I didn't know!"

Alessandro laughed. "One of my secrets. If I don't watch out , Emilio will
substitute Vittorio with you and I can admire you on the catwalks of
Milano."

   "Huh?"

   "Vittorio is Emilio's young lover. A model from Milano. I met him this
morning."

Luca rolled his eyes. "And had a three-some, eh?"

   "Sure."


Luca sighed deeply. "My parents are upset because I wasn't there for
lunch. Giano told them I'm probably with you, not saying that I was out the
whole night. They know you're departing today."

   "Good old Giano", Alessandro said. "When is he going to Pisa?"

   "Next week. Actually he wanted to go later, but then he changed his
mind. Probably happy too to start a single life. Perhaps you'll meet."

   "Yeah, perhaps." Again Alessandro imagined Giano's features that looked
so similar to Luca, just less boyish.

   "You have to pack I guess", Luca said, suddenly sad. Reluctantly he took
off the jacket and the trousers, folded them carefully and put them back
into the plastic bag.

   "I don't have much to pack. Just some clothes and books."

Luca followed Alessandro downstairs, laden with the plates, into the
kitchen. "I'm up for a last walk up to San Miniato, what do you think?"
Alessandro said. "Say good-bye to the God with the torch."

   "Cautopates?"

   "Right. Cautopates. The finisher of days. And meanwhile you'll read the
diary and tell me what you think about the story."

   "You said, you've plans with that. What plans?"

   "Going to Rome to find out what happened."

Luca's face was a question mark. "Where will you go to find things out when
none of the scientists found out?"

   "They never read Masolino's diary."


                                     * * *


Florence was swimming in the afternoon-heat. A sfumato hung over
Brunelleschi's red brickstone cupola of the cathedral, blurring the pointed
bell's tower of Santa Croce into those surrounding Luca's home, and the
battlements of the tower of Palazzo Vecchio, the town hall. The slopes of
Fiesole behind were of a dusty grey-green. Silver-grey where olive trees
covered the slopes, black-green where pines and cypresses pierced the sky,
planted in long rows, indicating the road that led up. Now and then red
roofs and white washed walls were to be seen, where rich people of Florence
had their summer's domicile.

Alessandro and Luca stood tightly embraced and breathed in spicy air. The
noise of the town was behind them and no passers by disturbed the peace.

   "Don't follow me home", Alessandro said. "I hate long farewells." He
gave Luca a key. "Here you have it. Whenever you feel like you can then go
to my room. And there's still your gifts to pick up. Promise me to look
after the Palazzo? Fran will come every week too."

   "Fran?"

  "Francesco, our gardener and housekeeper. He's with Anastasia at
Fiesole." He lifted Luca's chin. "Next weekend, I'm back." He kissed Luca,
then he turned and went quickly away. He didn't look back.

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to be continued