Date: Wed, 29 Jun 2005 03:24:26 -0400
From: SSch191950@aol.com
Subject: The Lizard, part 4, chapter 4

THE LIZARD, part 4: Inverno
by Stefan

Comments are welcome


______________

4
______________


    "Perhaps I can come to visit 'my son'", Alessandro spoke into the
receiver. Luca could literally hear the quotation marks with which he
stressed 'my son'. He sprawled upon Alessandro's bed which he considered
meanwhile as his own also. Suddenly he sat upright. "Geez, you're in the
local news", he said, staring at the telly. He listened for a while as a
photo of Alessandro smiled cheekily from the screen. "You look good on TV",
Luca said. Then Sandro's information sunk in. "What did you say? You want
to come to visit your son? When?"

    "Patience, amore, for now I don't know if I'll be allowed. But if I beg
Mario..." he left the sentence open for Luca to imagine what Sandro would
have to do for it. "Will you have to blow him?" he then asked more
lightheartedly than he felt.

    "Probably. Well, that's the least that people would expect from a
fresh-baked father, don't you think? Er, visit the child I mean... Perhaps
we can see seach other. I'll write you as soon as I hear more. Um, I miss
you." After a break he said. "Gotta go now. Take care of yourself."
Alessandro had hung up.

    This Mario was a pretty thorn in Luca's side. Although he couldn't
grasp it, there was something unlucky about the guy with the straight black
hair and the attentive, sparkling amber eyes. Each time he looked into them
Luca felt as if he could see into the very core of his being. And he was
good looking enough to rouse Sandro's attention. But he wouldn't be so daft
to start something with his warder, would he?


                        *



    Mario eyed the CD's Alessandro had spread upon the table in the common
room. Due to Mario's presence it was quieter here than usual, other times
the guys quarreled about the TV -programmes, or stridently lamented about a
lost Domino -game. Every kind of card game- and gambling was
forbidden. Mario lit a cigarette and slid closer. "Advanced Course", he
read. "Your English and French is good enough?" he asked, fixing Alessandro
with his amber-coloured, bright eyes, which he had hidden today with his
glasses that suited him extraordinarily well.

    "Sure, I spent a year at Oxford and I was two years in Toulouse. I've
visited the bones of good old Thomas of Aquino." Alessandro winked. He
tested how far Mario's knowledge reached in starting a serious
conversation.

    "The Jacobin church, I know", Mario said composed.

    "You've been there?"

    "For holidays. Did you know that the lead from the colourful glass
windows was worked into ammunition during the French Revolution? Nothing
stopped them. They lodged horses and soldiers in that church and all the
frescoes and paintings were destroyed."

    "Golly, sounds like Napoleon when he was in Italy. Didn't he do the
same with our churches?"

    Mario nodded and offered Alessandro a cigarette. "You're really
interested in Art history, aren't you."

    Alessandro lit his cigarette and coughed a bit. "Sure I am", he said
with scratchy voice. "I've even been to Saint Sernins, the pilgrim's church
with the hundreds of holy relics."

    Mario screw up one eye. "The church's on the Jacob's Way to
Compostela", he said quietly. "I walked it." For a moment his face was
blank, then he pulled himself together. "I'd rather you told me about
Masolino's Diary. You've heard about the discovery?"

    "How couldn't I", Alessandro said reservedly.

    "I think it's thrilling. Have you any more information about the
authenticity of the script? You - living in Firenze - are lucky compared to
us in this backwater of Poggibonsi."

    Alessandro didn't know what to say. If he thought it a backwater then
why did he live here? "Specialists say the script is genuine", he said
aloud. "The expedition starting to Rome will be more interesting. Hey, did
you know that the last Medici had caries because they ate too much
chocolate that the sailors had brought from America?" he asked then in a
lighthearted tone.

    Mario showed his teeth as he grinned. "You like chocolate?" The tip of
his rosy tongue appeared, licking over his lips. Alessandro knew that this
gesture was made for him only. He sensed a tiny twinge in his guts. To make
sure he hadn't misunderstood he leant closer "You've been on the pilgrim's
way to Compostela?" he asked, blowing blue smoke directly into Mario's
face.

    Mario didn't bat an eye lid. "I was. The way is the destination."

    "Why did you have to do it?"

    "I did it for pleasure" Mario's leg leaned against
Alessandro's. "Self-awareness."

    Alessandro shrugged. "That doesn't mean anything to me."

    "Not even ... pleasure?" Mario asked and again didn't blink.

    "Ah, pleasure..." Alessandro left the sentence open.

    Mario rose. "Come with me. I guess I have something for you."


    It wasn't difficult for Alessandro to discover that Mario was going to
his home. He had a small house in the prison's grounds.

    A little white Maltese jumped up at his leg. Mario patted him
briefly. As soon as he had closed his door he reached out and pulled
Alessandro hard to his chest. The kiss matched his movements - hard and
impatient - and Alessandro moaned into Mario's open mouth and struggled
with his tongue.

    His abdomen was on fire; he was hard like a rock within seconds -
exactly the time Mario needed to drag him from the hall into the kitchen
where he stopped and fumbled at Alessandro's belt, opened it, dragging down
the zipper and slipping his hand into Alessandro's boxer shorts.

    For a moment Alessandro was ashamed because the underwear he was
wearing he wouldn't even wear to bring coals up from the cellar -- in his
real life. Mario didn't seem to mind. His hand roamed hot and fiery, cupped
Alessandro's eggs and stroked his hard cock up and down, while he wrestled
at his own zipper. Alessandro's mind was blanked out. He pushed Mario's
hand away and did it for him, ripping trousers and pants down over his
hips.

    Neither had said a single word since they had entered the house. Mario
turned his bare butt to him and rubbed himself against Alessandro's warm
and hard flesh. Quivering with lust and desire, Mario groped for a bottle
of olive oil, poured it into his palm and smeared it around his opening,
worked it into his hole and turned to Alessandro. "Fuck me", he said, not
blinking he conjured up a condom and rolled it over Alessandro's straining
and longing cock. Then he turned, clutched the kitchen's hot plate and bent
over. Alessandro was so turned on that he pushed his cock into the waiting
hole - without thinking and without mercy. He heard Mario's hissing breath;
in a corner of his brain he knew that Mario was in pain, but more painful
was the act Alessandro had to endure, he concentrated on his tool that
harshly slid in and out. Within a minute Alessandro's body froze and he
squirted into the condom, a soundless cry upon his lips. He pulled out,
turned Mario and pressed his lips upon the others, transferring a part of
the pain he felt and receiving the same.

    Panting, Mario put his head on Alessandro's shoulder and suddenly
wrapped his arms around him. Their cocks merged - both still hard and not
satisfied. Mario's hole burnt like fire. And yet it was exactly what he
wanted from Alessandro di Gondi-Lucertola. The guy, the cause of his
restless nights. The guy with the haughty eyes.

    His fingers found Alessandro's covered erection and rolled the condom
carefully up, shedding a part of the white semen upon the ground. Like
Onan. Shed the semen to the ground and be punished. He felt Alessandro
shivering when Mario grazed his nails lightly up and down the shaft,
cupping his hairless balls, lingering at the rim, connecting glands and
shaft, mingling the clear drops and white semen. His own cock jerked
without being touched.

    'Not even the half of a year you can last out, Alessandro scolded
himself. 'Not even the half of a year! But what do you do when a little,
firm butt is offered and you needed it so badly? Luca, please forgive.'

    He was being guided into the bedroom. The Maltese was there again,
laying in his basket near the door, yelping. Mario bent down and stroked
him. "Sssht, Cinzano, quiet. Afterwards we're going out."

    Alessandro felt the urge to laugh hysterically. "Cinzano?" He fell upon
the bed and stretched out. Jesus, it was so good to feel a soft bed. His
back jubilated with pleasure and his cock pointed straight to the ceiling
before it vanished into Mario's mouth, who had straddled him.

    Alessandro was aware that he was still fully dressed and that Mario had
only lost his jeans. It must make a repulsive image - at least to him. Two
randy guys who hadn't been able to undress themselves because they had
pounced on each other like a troop of soldiers, raping the female locals of
a conquered town. And yet.... he couldn't help it. The tongue was too good,
the mouth too hot and if he didn't open his eyes, he could imagine that it
was Luca who slid over his cock and rolled on another condom. He could
imagine it was Luca's hotness that engulfed Alessandro and his lingering
movements, up and down and up again like a horse rider, galloping over
gentle hills.


    The house was dark and in his basket the Maltese was softly snoring as
was Mario at his side when he awoke. Alessandro still wore his boots and
pullover. Only his trousers had been pulled down halfway his thighs. He
wondered about the time and shook Mario's shoulder. "Hey. What's the time?
We'll be in trouble if we aren't back in time for dinner ."

    Mario started; his straight, black hair mussed up, he looked
shortsightedly and -confused around him. "Madonna!" He jumped out of the
bed and gathered his clothes. "Hurry up", he urged Alessandro.

    "I don't have to dress", Alessandro said coolly. He pulled up his jeans
and tucked himself in in front of Mario. "You weren't too interested in my
body."

    Mario nodded absentmindedly and tied his shoelaces. "What are you, only
a top?" he asked.

    Alessandro didn't think he should answer that. It was about time he was
leaving this house.

    The tiny dog had woken up and begged his master to go out with
him. Alessandro bent down and picked up the struggling bundle with the
white, silky hairs. In the hall Mario stepped in his way.

    "This is our secret. Nobody must ever learn of it, or I'll be chucked
out. But three years and eight months are hard to endure without having
someone to fuck. I'm sentenced as well in this place, capisce? If they
learn I'm gay I can pack my things and leave."

    "That's ridiculous, as if they would give every straight teacher the
sack when he teaches girls", Alessandro objected, still with cool voice.

    "I know. But that's the rule."

    "All right, chief. You're the boss." Outside Alessandro dropped the dog
and he flitted to the next bush. "Before I forget it, I want to officially
apply for a day off to visit my new born son."

    Mario dropped his keys. "Your what?"

    "Heavens, you surely read in my files that I'm married. I'm certainly
not the first married guy you've fucked in your spare time." A sneer spread
over his face. "What else can you do here than fuck the brains out of each
other. Right?" He turned and moved on, across the lawn, his hands buried in
his pockets, his head pulled down between his shoulders due to the cold.

    Haughty eyes, Mario thought. And haughty mind. "Your application is
granted!" he shouted to Alessandro's back. "But only if I'm the one to
accompany you."



    It was seven days later when Mario drove his old, blue Fiat up to
Fiesole with Alessandro sitting next to him. It had cost Mario a severe act
of persuasion to convince the prison administration that it was enough that
he accompanied Alessandro Gondi alone, but since Alessandro had never
caused any trouble before now, his plea was granted.

    Mario gave him a brief side glance. Indeed, Alessandro had never caused
trouble. Except, he was fucking with his supervisor. Well, now and then. If
it was up to Mario, he would love to bring Sandro to his home for Mario's
personal care.

    Mario grinned at him. Alessandro looked good, albeit the stay in the
jail over the Winter had made him pale and he had lost weight. Nonetheless
Mario wasn't deceived that behind the mask of a good-looking, politically
correct and self-confident young man a human hid who was highly aggressive
and able to kill if he had to. But aren't we all able to do that when it
comes to a certain point?

    In the long therapy-talks with Sandro, Mario had learnt everything
about the occurrences on that October night and Mario was convinced that
Alessandro really shouldn't be there. His being locked up - as relaxed it
might be handled here - wasn't good for the independent boy from
Florence. Sometimes he was so monosyllabic that Mario was frightened for
him.

    "Turn right, please", Alessandro said, "now pass the monument and
straight along."

    They had reached Fiesole, the small old-Etruscan town above Florence,
where the rich and noble Florentines had built their summer-residences.

    And again it is Primavera, Alessandro thought. Maledetta Primavera. In
a few weeks Luca and he had their first anniversary of the day they had met
at his father's funeral. He remembered his bold conquest of Luca, the young
man with the gentle, brown eyes and the blond hair he - Alessandro - had
never thought would become so important in his life. But he had to admit
that he missed his boyfriend more than anything. And during his short
visits to Mario's house he only thought about Luca - and that was the
reason he had never allowed Mario to penetrate him. Odd. In better days he
would have laughed. Would Luca understand? Perhaps he was doing the
same. Alessandro promised himself not to be cross with him if that was the
case.

    "That's it", Alessandro mumbled. The car came to a halt in front of the
yellow-washed villa with a red roof. The meadows around stood in late
Spring's bloom. The rhododendron was full with pink blossoms and the white
lilac gleamed in the sunshine. He saw that Fran had cut the roses and the
box trees.

    "You know the rules, Sandro", Mario said. "No close contact, not even
with your boyfriend when he comes."

    Alessandro gave him an odd look. "You don't seriously think that you
can stop me from kissing my boyfriend", he said with a quiet voice.

    Mario felt the threat within. Surely enough, Alessandro had Mario in
his grasp. Completely. If he was chucked out because of molesting his
charge, he would never find a job again. But Sandro wouldn't do that, would
he? Mario gave him a penetrating look. "A final tip, Sandro: don't mess
with my trust. You and I have more secrets than are good for us. Always
remember that."

    Alessandro gave a disapproving snort and opened the car's door. Mario
knew he couldn't browbeat him. Alessandro Gondi was still fearless.

    Mario watched him as he stepped up to a fragile old woman with a sunhat
and gloves and embraced her. Apparently she had been working in the garden
since a bucket full of weeds stood next to her feet. Then he felt her eyes
upon him and stepped closer to shake her hand. "Mario Giacomelli", he
introduced himself. "The person in charge for of Alessandro. Nice to meet
you. Where's the wife?"

    Anastasia, looking him discretely up and down pointed to the
house. Alessandro knew she'd be on the bench behind the house, standing in
the sun. Mario decided to follow him.

    Leoni, sitting on the bench with a pillow in her back, looked somewhat
puffed-up in the face albeit her body was thin as ever. She moaned when she
saw Alessandro. "I feel as if someone has pushed a melon into me", was the
first thing she said, eyeing Mario. "Another lover?"

    "No, my personal guard. How's that for a greeting, Leoni? And how do
you look? Where's the baby?"

    Leoni grinned. "One day later and it wouldn't be here anymore", she
said cryptically. "Your uncle's coming and taking it away. As the agreement
goes."

    Alessandro quickly took her arm and sat beside her upon the bench. "I'd
prefer it if you'd keep that to yourself", he hissed. "So, Arrigo was here,
yes? What did he want?"

    "He offered me a place at his home with Matteo or I'll have to leave
him at your uncle's."

    "Who's Matteo?"

    Leoni's blue-green eyes stared widely and somewhat glazed at him. "Your
son."

    Anastasia came around the corner with a bundle in her arms. "He's such
a pretty kitten, Sandro", she cooed - seeming completely unusual to
Alessandro. But then, if he remembered his own childhood, the only warmth
and affection he had experienced was the love from Anastasia. When he
looked into little Matteo's face he almost regretted that he wasn't his
own. Almost. For a tiny second.

    "It was Arrigo's wish to call him after his grandpa, your father",
Anastasia said.

    For a moment Alessandro was tempted to tell her the truth - that his
father Matteo was not the grandpa of this little worm here. Perhaps he
would do it - later. In a quiet minute when his life had flooded back onto
its well-trodden paths. When he was out of that damn prison.

    He felt Mario's presence who was standing discreetly to the side, not
able to overhear their conversation. Anastasia was walking around with the
baby in her arms, showing him the knotty branches of a short apple tree
standing in full bloom.

    "So, what have you decided?" Alessandro asked. "Will you move into
Arrigo's palazzo?"

    Leoni shook his head. "I'll take the money and be off. Padre Castruccio
has already visited me to be convinced about the gender of the baby and
all." She leaned closer, "He didn't want to see a paternity test."

    "No?" Alessandro was surprised. "I bet it will come. At least then the
money will be in my bank account." He watched Anastasia who rocked the
bundle in her arms and looked as if she was in love. "By the way, how will
you put Anastasia in the picture about you not caring a flying fart about
the baby and will leave it alone?"

    Leoni threw back her head. "I don't care a flying fart about
Anastasia. Don't you see her? She's besotted by him, so she should care for
his welfare. I'm off."

    "Leoni", Alessandro clutched her upper arm firmly. Again he felt
Mario's eyes on him. "You can't do that. Not right now. Wait a while for
God's sake. Don't you think Castruccio will think it odd if you abandon
your child shortly after the birth? You only raise suspicion. Stay here for
a while - for the summer if you want. You don't have to care for the
kid. Anastasia will do it gladly."

    "She's old. Perhaps she'll drop him to the ground or something."

    "Nonsense. Anastasia is fit as a fiddle."

    A low put-put of a motor made them look up. Mario rushed around the
corner and saw a cloud of dust. In front of it crystallized a figure upon a
motorbike. Alessandro had followed Mario and now ran past him. The driver
took off his helmet and Mario saw the sunshine polishing Luca Montori's
blond hair. It was useless to pull Alessandro back and to explain that he
mustn't touch Luca, at least not before Mario had examined Luca. But what
could he slip Alessandro anyway? A file to saw the bars from in front of
his windows?

    With screwed up eyes he watched the heartfelt embrace and the kisses,
and something like jealousy welled up in him. That was really
ridiculous. Alessandro was nothing more than a fuck buddy, good enough to
fill Mario's lonely hours.

    He turned his eyes away and knew that wasn't exactly the truth. For
that, the feeling of hurt was too strong. Alessandro was more than a fuck
buddy. If he was truthful Mario had most probably fallen in love with the
young man.

    Mario watched the bike being jacked up, then Luca and Alessandro came
closer hand in hand. Mario blinked. What would the blond guy do if Mario
would tell him that his boyfriend was fucking his warder?

    "Can we vanish for a half an hour?" Alessandro asked.

    "What for?" it escaped Mario. At the same time he felt ashamed when he
saw Luca's blush. "No way", he said quickly. "You'll stay here."

    Alessandro rolled his eyes. "Geez, then play the peeping tom." He
pushed Luca gently against the house wall and started to fumble between his
legs. Luca struggled and tried to push Alessandro away. Mario heard him
half laughing and making a loud hissing noise.

    "What would you do, if I ran away now?" Alessandro shouted over his
shoulder to Mario.

    "You wouldn't get far."

    "All right. I give up", Alessandro pouted, taking Luca's hand and
vanished with him around the corner. Mario shook his head. This was harder
than watching a sack of fleas.


    "What's your decision now, Leoni?" Alessandro asked, after Anastasia
had invited Mario into the kitchen where he could keep an eye on the guys
outside, offering him a cool lemonade.

    Leoni shrugged. "I guess I'll stay here for a while. But not too long."

    Alessandro nodded. "Good. Why don't you write to me? I never get post
from my wife." He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

    "You aren't interested in your wife, Alessandro Gondi", Leoni
hissed. "So why should she write to you?"

    "To send me a photo of little Matteo for instance. He's cute,
admittedly. Hopefully he takes after his father."

    Luca eyed him sinisterly. "And who is the father?" he asked.

    Alessandro shrugged. "Don't know... Certainly not me. Um, if you ever
tell Anastasia I'll break out and kill you, Leoni", he said
seriously. "*I'm* the one to tell her, capisce? Remember the agreement. If
you tell her you'll see not cent of it."

    Leoni nodded distractedly. She longed for a cigarette, but the bloody
Anastasia never brought her a packet. The birth was a trauma she still
hadn't digested, mostly because she had been alone, although her mother had
accompanied her along with Arrigo's nasty wife. The mother was only
interested in the publicity-effective entry in the press and so she had
dressed up pretty in pink for the celebration of her first
grandchild. Otherwise the hysterical woman hadn't really been a help and
had to be comforted by Arrigo's wife - a similar frigid soul. Nobody had
asked how Leoni had felt and so she didn't want the kid either. Let
Alessandro be happy with it as long he got the money and Leoni got the
money for all her labour.

    She looked up. Alessandro Gondi - her first big love - was
unreachable. And he was nasty to her anyway. He was arrogant. He showed too
obviously that he despised girls because they couldn't come up with a long,
fat cock he could suck at or stuff his own into waiting arseholes. Ugh. She
would never understand how someone could do that.

    Maybe Alessandro read something in her eyes, at least he reached out
and wiped a tear from Leoni's cheek. "Thanks for all this", he
whispered. "I know I treated you like shit, but you hit back."

    Leoni sat frozen to the spot when he and Luca said good-bye. Although
not really having talked with each other, they both looked happy just to
feel the presence of the other. Alessandro didn't want to talk about his
daily life. And Luca didn't know what to tell him without causing
melancholy and anger about the lost months. "Tristano was happy about the
presents", he began finally. They stood next to the motor bike Luca used
nowadays. "Franco had given him two large pieces of his beloved Panforte."

    Alessandro grinned silently. "And the DVD's?" he asked. Luca answered
his grin. "He screamed with pleasure. Here's a letter from him." He handed
Alessandro an envelope that was snatched away by Mario. "Let me read it
first", he said, trying to appear intimidating.

    Luca eyed him surprised. Seen at close quarters, Mario's eyes had a
translucent quality of a yellow amber stone and the sun made his hair
brilliant like raven's wings. Alessandro though glared at Mario as he
watched him open the envelope and skim through Tristano's letter. Luca felt
him boiling in anger.

    "All right, you can keep it", Mario said, handing the letter over to
Alessandro.

    "And what was that for?" Alessandro snapped.

    Mario looked innocent and turned away. Luca took Alessandro's arm and
stroked him. "Don't be angry, he's just doing his job."

    Alessandro stared for a moment into Luca's eyes, then he decided to say
nothing. He took a deep breath and said "so he enjoyed the presents?"

    "You bet." Luca and Alessandro had bought Tristano a collection of
Jamie Oliver's cooking-DVD's so Tristano could now watch his idol when he
prepared all of his delicious things to eat. "Vito invited him out to the
most expensive ristorante in town", Luca started.

    "Let me guess: Paszkowsky Bar at Piazza della Repubblica, right?"

    "Right."

    "And then he complainedt that the cappuccino costs five Euros",
Alessandro said dryly and somewhat depressed. "I'd loved to invite
him. Certainly Vito has count every cent."

    "Ah, come on. He wouldn't had done it otherwise."

    "Vito must be very in love with Tris", Alessandro said, staring
constantly at a point in the distance next to Luca's ear. "Have you counted
the months remaining? In exactly eleven days we have our first
anniversary."

    Luca quickly put his finger across Alessandro's lips. "Never talk about
that. Don't even think about it. You know that I'm waiting for you."

    Alessandro's head jerked away. "You don't have to. I'll understand."

    Luca looked sad and disappointed. "But I want to."

    Mario looked at his watch and called "Time to leave, Sandro. Say
good-bye to everybody."

    "'Say good-bye to everybody'", parroted Alessandro nastily. "I feel as
I'm in kindergarten."

    Luca tried a smile. Alessandro had changed. His gentle core, that Luca
had been able to conjure and explore, had vanished. What would he be like
if e was out of that prison? He watched him saying farewell to Leoni and
Anastasia with the baby still in her arms. When he kissed Luca, Luca's
throat was constricted. He tried to hold him as long as he could, but Mario
was rushing him.

    "Are you following us?", Mario asked. It was the first words that he
had directed at Luca.

    Luca shook his head. He wanted to stay and talk to Anastasia for a
while. So he stood and watched the cloud of dust the old, blue Fiat left
behind.


----------------------
to be continued