Artistic Licence

by Vivienne Lafay

  The smile that Carla gave him back was knowing, secretive. It was proving a sweet pain to conceal her sex from this man. She longed for the day when she could be open with him, when they might stand a chance of being lovers. But, for the time being, she could only dream. And dreams, however sweet, could never quite satisfy.

  Chapter Four

  THEY WERE SHORT-HANDED in the workshop, with so many commissions for the carnival on top of their other work. The place was littered with curls of paper, blobs of wax, wood shavings and string. One morning Piero took Carla aside and said the words she was longing to hear.

  ‘I’m prepared to let you paint in some background to one of my jobs. The other lads are too busy, with this cursed carnival practically upon us. Come on upstairs, and I’ll show you what needs to be done.’

  She followed him gladly, aware that she was about to be given her first real painting job. In the upstairs studio stood Piero’s personal commissions. The statue had disappeared but the triptych was still there, almost complete, and there was a half-finished portrait of a man in hunting costume. Behind him the Tuscan hills were sketched in, and figures of dogs and horses. Piero gestured towards the work.

  ‘This is the one. I want the hillsides filled in. You’ll need several shades of green, and then I wanf flowers scattered, mostly white, yellow and purple. Do you think you’re up to it?’

  ‘Oh yes!’

  ‘Better not tell the others, eh? This will be our little secret.’ His dark eyes gleamed at her in friendly conspiracy. ‘We don’t want them complaining to the Guild, now do we? If you manage it well I might think about taking you on officially. I’m making no promises, mind!’

  Carla just nodded, but her heart was singing loudly. An apprenticeship! She quashed the thought that she would be in big trouble with the Guild if her gender were ever discovered, vowing to cross that bridge if and when she came to it. For now it was enough that Piero trusted her to work on his precious portrait, if only on the background.

  She worked happily all morning, her palette filled with pigments mixed from malachite and copper. Piero showed her how to make another shade, green lake, by boiling verdigris in larch resin. Soon the grass and foliage were glowing like the first flush of spring.

  ‘That’s good, very good!’ Piero smiled. ‘I knew you’d repay my faith in you. Now mix up some Naples yellow and white lead for the flowers.’

  When she had gone as far as she could with the portrait, and Piero declared himself well satisfied, he decided to trust her with an even more important task.

  ‘I need some blue, not azurite but ultramarine. Will you mix some for me?’

  Carla knew how expensive the deep blue pigment was, and how much he trusted her to let her mix it. It was made from ground lapis lazuli and only used for very important subjects, such as the blue of a Madonna’s gown. While Piero worked on his triptych she went to fetch the carved wooden box in which the costly powder was kept. She brought it down from the shelf and took it over to the workbench where the pestle and mortar were.

  After grinding it to a fine powder Carla mixed the pigment with egg yolk and a little water, the way she had been shown, until it was smooth and thick. She took the little bowl in her hand and walked towards Piero who was concentrating on his painting, the tip of his tongue protruding slightly as was his habit. Suddenly she tripped over a loose floorboard and the bowl went flying. The precious paint went mostly over the floor and some of it splashed on the triptych, just where it was not wanted.

  Shock turned Carla into a frozen statue. She couldn’t believe what had just happened, but there was the accusing stain to prove it and the little bowl smashed into fragments. After what seemed like an endless hiatus, a furious cry broke from the master.

  ‘You stupid bastard – look what you’ve done! How could you be so careless with the most expensive pigment of all? Dolt!’

  He cuffed her round the ear and Carla burst into tears but this only inflamed Piero more. ‘Stop blubbing, you fool! There’s no use crying over spilt milk. Get a cloth and clear it up at once.’ Then he saw where it had splashed onto the corner of his painting and he gave another roar. ‘Mother of Christ, you’ve ruined my painting, too!’

  Carla stammered her apologies, but her words sounded futile even to her ears. She could hear her pulses hammering in her ears and the sight of Piero’s dark face, screwed up in fury, only made her heart beat all the more. Trembling she fetched a rag and began to mop up the deep blue paint.

  ‘You deserve a thrashing!’ she heard Piero say, as he examined the damage to his painting with an incredulous expression. ‘You’re supposed to be helping, not hindering. What a fool I was to trust you. Perhaps a good beating will knock some sense into you.’

  He picked up a fretted fly swatter and a deep dread filled her. Her father had never beaten her, and Stefano’s chastisement of her had been more playful than painful. But Piero was very angry. When she cowered away from him, backing slowly towards the door, his eyes glittered cruelly at her. ‘Come here!’ he snapped. ‘And take your punishment like a man!’

  He seized her wrist and dragged her over to the bench where he made her bend over. His rough hands pulled at her clothes until her hose was around her ankles and her buttocks were bare. Carla remembered what he had done to her before and hot shame ran through her, but when the first slap of the reed implement came she found it did not hurt as much as she had feared and the now-familiar feelings of arousal happened again.

  ‘I’ll teach you!’ Piero snapped, swatting at her bottom once again. ‘You deserve my belt, not this flimsy thing.’

  There was a pause and, for one dreadful moment, Carla thought he was unbuckling his belt to use that on her. But something had caught his attention. He suddenly pulled her round, lifting her tunic, and she knew with a horrible sinking certainty, that her game was all over.

  ‘God’s body, I don’t believe it!’ he was saying, his expression totally incredulous as he stared at the bushy hair hiding her private parts. ‘A woman! You’re a bloody woman!’

  Carla could not meet his eyes. She stood there trembling like a leaf, unable to say a word. All kinds of terrible punishments filled her imagination, every one far worse than a mere thrashing. Although she had only been in Florence a few weeks she had seen the dreadful penalties that certain miscreants had to pay under the Law. There had been public mutilations, pillories and hangings. She had no idea what punishment might be meted out to impostors like herself and she was quite certain that Piero would hand her over to the authorities forthwith.

  So she was utterly astonished when he burst out laughing. ‘The cheek of it!’ he kept saying. ‘The brazen cheek of it!’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, hanging her head with tears flooding her eyes. ‘It was very wrong of me. But I did so want to become an artist.’

  ‘You fooled me good and proper. You fooled all of us! To think I had you in the arse, when I could have taken you like a woman! You had the last laugh on me, wench, didn’t you?’

  ‘I – I meant no harm . . .’

  ‘Sure you didn’t. But harm will come to you if this gets out. The Guild would make an example of you, and it wouldn’t be a pretty sight, I can tell you!’

  Instinctively Carla dropped to her knees. ‘Please don’t report me, master. I’ll do anything for you. I’ll work for you for nothing.’

  ‘What? Do you imagine you can go on keeping your sex a secret indefinitely?’ Piero looked thoughtful for a moment, then continued, ‘Well, and why not? If I hadn’t stripped your lower half just now I’d never have guessed. I was looking for your cock and balls dangling down, you know, and suddenly I realised they weren’t there.’ He laughed again. ‘Damn me! You really took me for a ride, young woman.’

  ‘The others wouldn’t have to know,’ Carla assured him. ‘We could go back to how it was before. I’d go on working as if I were your apprentice.’

  ‘You can never be that,’ Piero said, solemnly. ‘But I suppose you’re ri
ght about the others. If they haven’t sussed you by now there’s no reason to suppose they ever will. Still, I don’t like it. I don’t like it at all. A woman’s place is in the home, not in the workplace. Whatever possessed you, Carlo – hell’s bells, I don’t even know your real name!’

  ‘It’s Carla. I came to Florence in men’s clothes for my own protection. I wanted to make my own way in life, and I had my own reasons for wanting to leave my village.’

  ‘I’m sure you did,’ Piero said, not unkindly. ‘Well, Carla, if we are to continue with this charade – oh my goodness! To think I wanted you to dress as a girl for the carnival!’

  He went into hoots of laughter again. Carla was disconcerted, still not knowing what the outcome of all this would be. She watched his face keenly for clues and once he stopped laughing his expression took on a thoughtful cast. The dark eyes looked her up and down, as if seeing her for the first time, and then his mouth curved into a wicked grin.

  ‘All right, here are my conditions,’ he began at last. ‘I shall say nothing about your – small deficiency, but you must let me come to your bed whenever I fancy. You shall be my woman, to fuck whenever I please. But that will be our secret. I swear no one will ever know.’

  Carla sighed, remembering what Stefano had said to her. Now she seemed to be in just the same position, a man’s plaything to be used or discarded as the mood took him. The spirit of rebellion that had led her to abandon her home and family and escape to Florence flared again briefly, but then she had second thoughts. In many ways she was happy in Piero’s household. She was learning her craft, although mostly by proxy, and she enjoyed the company of the other apprentices, especially Marco, while the thought of facing life on the streets again was utterly depressing.

  But to submit to Piero’s will, to let him ravage her whenever he liked – could she bear that? Carla felt a little shiver run through her, but it contained more excitement than fear. Secretly she longed for those wonderful feelings she had experienced with Stefano and perhaps Piero would be a good lover. He was older than her cousin had been, and she knew he frequented whores from time to time. He was quite good looking too, and there was a raw, virile energy about him that fascinated her.

  He misunderstood the reasons for her hesitation and broke in with a smile, ‘You needn’t worry about getting with child. I can control myself.’

  ‘Then – I will accept your offer,’ she said. ‘So long as I can go on helping out in the workshop. I wouldn’t want any more than bed and board.’

  ‘Fine, so long as you realise you can never be apprenticed. I don’t know how I’ll explain it to the others as time goes by, but I’ll think of something. So it’s agreed. Let’s shake on it like gentlemen, even though you’re a cursed female!’

  His wry grin and the dancing light in his eye led Carla to think that becoming this man’s mistress might be less of an ordeal than she had at first thought. As she went about her tasks that day she even found herself looking forward to the night, hoping that Piero would come to her bed as a lover for the first time. When she joined the other apprentices, however, she felt even more of an impostor than she had before.

  ‘What was all that shouting about earlier?’ Marco asked her quietly, while they were preparing the table together.

  ‘I spilt some ultramarine.’

  Marco whistled through his pursed lips. ‘Shit! Did you get a beating?’ She nodded. ‘That’s what I was afraid of before, when you spoilt that gold leaf. I got you out of a thrashing then but this time I couldn’t help you, I’m sorry. Piero does everything on a shoestring because he tries to undercut the other artists to get more work. So if you waste any materials he goes wild. We usually cover up for each other if we spill anything.’

  ‘I’ll be more careful in future.’

  ‘I bet you will!’

  Marco’s smile was warm and comforting. Carla longed to throw her arms around him and declare her feelings along with her secret, but she dared not. It would be even harder pretending to be a boy now that Piero knew the truth, but Marco, who held the key to her heart, was still ignorant of her true nature. If only he’d been the one to find out instead! She would have had no hesitation in accepting him as her lover, in exchange for his silence.

  For the rest of the day Carla tried to behave normally but her mind and heart were in turmoil. When the time came for them all to retire, she made her way up to the top floor as usual and performed her toilet at the washstand. Then she lay down in her shift and waited, in some trepidation, for Piero to finish drinking his wine downstairs.

  At last she could hear his tread upon the stair. She lay quietly in the candlelight and soon he appeared, a formidable figure in the doorway. His crudely handsome face was grinning at her, and she felt her heart sink as she realised that she was completely at his mercy. He stripped off his clothes until he was stark naked and she saw his sturdy cock rise to attention as he approached her bed.

  ‘Get that thing off!’ he said, pulling at her shift. ‘Now I know you’re a woman I want a good look at your body. You can’t be much of one, I suppose, if you’ve kept us all in the dark this long.’

  He brought the candle near and, blushing, she pulled the thin shift over her head until her body was completely exposed. He proceeded to comment, as if he were buying an animal at market, but the situation was so like that of her dream of posing nude for the apprentices that Carla began to feel aroused and her nipples stood stiffly on her small breasts.

  ‘You’ve not much in the way of a bosom,’ Piero observed. ‘But what you have got is shapely enough and the rest of your figure is pleasing. I wouldn’t mind making a study of you sometime.’ He grinned. ‘Turn you into a madonna, maybe. How would you like that?’

  She smiled but said nothing. Already she felt like his possession, as if she had no rights of her own. He put out his hand and caressed her breast with his palm, sending shivers of anticipation down her spine. ‘Don’t worry,’ he said. ‘I won’t hurt you. You’re still a virgin, aren’t you?’

  Carla wasn’t altogether sure. Although she believed Stefano had taken her virginity, somehow it did not seem to count. Afraid that Piero would not want her if he thought she had been with another man, she nodded.

  ‘Thought as much. I wouldn’t have been so rough with you the other night if I’d known what you really were. This time I’ll be more gentle.’

  He made her spread her legs then felt between them. Carla was aware of the folds of flesh opening up to him, revealing the secret of her sex, proving to him that she was what she claimed to be. Piero laughed again, softly, the kind of laugh a man gives when the joke is on him, and his finger pressed harder into her. She could feel how soft and wet she was down there, the way she had been with Stefano, and deep inside her the slow building-up of tension began as her body prepared itself for pleasure.

  Piero’s lips fastened on one of her erect nipples, intensifying her desire for him. She could smell the male odours on him, sweat and musk, and her heart rejoiced at the primitive meeting of male and female. His eagerness for her was very gratifying, and as his tongue laved her breast and his fingers worked at the moist lips of her pussy, Carla marvelled at her own increasing lust for him. So this is what being a woman means, she told herself.

  Up to now she had believed that the attraction was all one-way, that men craved and women endured, but now she was discovering new urges within herself. The flame that Stefano had ignited was burning brightly and she could hardly wait for Piero to come inside her. She began to moan and push her mound against his groping fingers, longing for her need to be assuaged.

  ‘Are you sure you’re a virgin?’ he asked, grinning. ‘You seem suspiciously hot for it.’

  ‘Mm, it feels so good!’ she murmured.

  ‘It’ll feel even better soon.’

  He knelt between her outspread thighs and placed his glans at her entrance. Carla felt her womb twitch at the thought of that hard flesh plunging into her, filling up her emptiness. He eased
his way in, inching slowly into the welcoming interior with a groan of satisfaction, and she pushed her breasts against his chest, feeling the rough hairs tickle her nipples. At first there was some soreness, and she moved awkwardly trying to synchronise her hips with his. But once he was snug inside her she began to work her mound against him more smoothly, instinctively moving to increase her own excitement.

  Soon Piero was grunting and sweating his way towards a climax, his heavy balls slapping against her thighs as he rode her like a mare. Carla exulted in his energy, his whole-hearted concentration on the task in hand. She had seen him look like that when he was painting, as if nothing else in the world mattered but what he was doing right then. She had felt the same, absorbed in her own artistic tasks. But now he was obsessed with her and she with him, and it felt wonderful to have their two minds and bodies working in harmony.

  But then, just as he was puffing and panting the loudest, Piero suddenly pulled out of her and shot his seed over the sheets. Carla was shocked. She felt as if someone had thrown cold water over her, all her senses reeling at the sudden withdrawal of stimulation. She lay there listening to her deafening heartbeat, feeling the perspiration trickle down her breasts and a great sadness overwhelmed her. What had begun as a glorious consummation suddenly seemed just an animal act, a crude encounter that was over in a few minutes.

  ‘There, I said you’d be safe!’ Piero told her with some satisfaction. He evidently expected her to be pleased that he’d managed to get out in time. Carla nodded, but what she was feeling inside was too overwhelming to speak of. There was a great sense of loss, of frustration and a sudden realisation of just what she’d let herself in for.

  She wanted him to stay in her bed and cuddle her for a bit, but as soon as his breath was back Piero rose and shuffled over to the piss pot. After he’d relieved himself he sank back on to his own bed. In the darkness Carla felt a tear trickle down her cheek and she was only slightly comforted when he said, ‘You’ll be all right here, you know. Goodnight.’