by Evie Blake
Valentina is still ashamed when she remembers how badly she behaved. Being in love turned her into a monster. Even though she had seen the truth of the situation with her very own eyes, she still couldn’t bear to let Francesco go. A part of her wanted to make him pay for all her pain. While his wife was out of town, she insisted on going to Francesco’s apartment and making love to him with all her heart, so that she could tear his out. She wanted him to think of her every time he was in bed with his wife. She plagued him with questions: did he really love her, when was he going to leave his wife? She told him she could not live without him. On and on and on she hounded him. She didn’t care about his wife or his unborn child. She killed his desire for her with her need, yet he never actually tried to break up with her. He consistently professed his love for her, and at times she almost believed him. He was so convincing, so tearful when he spoke of his situation. How difficult it was to leave his wife now she was pregnant. It was a mistake. He didn’t want them to have children. Yet all Valentina could hear were lies, and all she saw was that one image of Signora Merico, sweet and beguiling in her pregnant state. No man could walk out on that.
How badly it ended. She became crazy with love for him, and was on the verge of confronting his wife when her mother intervened. She forced Valentina to go on holiday with her to Greece for three weeks, making her hike across arid, parched mountainsides and soak up the history of ancient sites and ruins with her. Valentina felt half-dead, but she still followed her mother, like a thirsty kid following its nanny goat for solace. Her mother took her diving in the cerulean perfection of the Mediterranean, and slowly all the raw beauty of Greece helped Valentina to find a tiny spark of faith in life. Gradually she managed to climb back from the edge of the abyss. The black pit of her loss became smaller and smaller, and slowly she was able to step aside from it and detach from her pain. By the time she got back to Milan, she was resolved. She would never let this happen to her again. Yet she wanted to see Francesco one last time and have the satisfaction of telling him that it was over, for good. She wanted to tell him what a lowlife she thought he was.
She never got the opportunity. The night they returned to Milan, her mother informed her not to even think about seeing Francesco. She had friends in high places and had seen to it that he would never work in Milan again. He had been forced to leave Italy with his wife, and move to England, where he had managed to get a less prestigious but adequate teaching position.
‘The poor fool,’ her mother said, as she poured herself a big glass of red wine and slumped down territorially on the couch in the sitting room.
‘Francesco?’ Valentina asked in a whisper, still dazed by her mother’s drastic action.
‘No, his silly little wife,’ her mother said nastily. ‘I am sure he has done it before, plucked some virgin student before you, and I am sure he will do it again after you. What a sad life that woman has to look forward to.’
Valentina stood in stunned silence for a moment, taking in her mother’s harsh words.
‘Maybe you should have told her, and done her a favour,’ her mother said. She took a slurp of her wine and looked up at her daughter with dancing eyes.
She thinks this is funny, Valentina thought. How can my own mother be so cruel?
‘He loved me!’ she shouted suddenly.
Her mother raised her eyebrows, her eyes glowing over the rim of her wine glass.
‘Valentina,’ she said softly, ‘have you learnt nothing from me?’
Too much! she wanted to scream. Too much about what her mother called the illusion of love. That the best way through life was to share your body, but never your heart.
‘Of course he didn’t love you. He doesn’t love anyone, not you, not his wife, not even his pathetic self.’
‘Stop it!’ Valentina screamed. ‘Stop interfering in my life. Telling me what to do . . .’
For once, her mother looked surprised.
‘I have been trying to help you, Valentina,’ she said calmly.
‘Well you’re not. You’ve turned me into a freak . . . like you. You drove my father away, you’ve driven away every man who loved you, you even drove your own son away. No one can stand you for long . . .’
Her voice trailed off. She was so angry, she couldn’t express herself. All she knew was that it was wrong that her mother had interfered and sent Francesco packing. She had wanted to see him one last time. To tell him herself that it was over. Or was it to give him one last chance?
Her mother said nothing in response to her outburst. She stared at her daughter as if for the first time, and for a moment Valentina thought she saw her eyes watering. Was her mother going to cry? She had never seen her do that before. The thought of it was terrifying.
‘I’m moving out!’ she exclaimed rashly, and stormed out of the room and down the hall. She slammed her bedroom door and locked it, but there was no need, for her mother didn’t come after her. She leant against the door, anger still coursing through her. And yet she felt better. No longer lovesick. It was as if a window had opened in her life again and she could breathe fresh air.
The next morning, Valentina slept in late. By the time she arose, there was no sign of her mother. She found a short note, left for her on the kitchen table.
I can see that you are a woman now. And like me, you need your space. I have to go to America on a job. I am not sure when I will be back, but I will call. Enjoy the flat. It’s yours. Tina
So typical of her mother to pull the rug from underneath her feet. Valentina had been anticipating a big talk this morning. Maybe even some kind of apology from her mother for interfering in her love life. Yet all she had was this bald note, signed Tina. Not even Mama. Not even a kiss. Valentina realised she had made her mother angry. Well, she was still furious with her too. Let her go off in a huff to America on one of her fancy shoots. What did she care? She didn’t need her mother any more. She was nearly twenty after all.
How was Valentina to know that in fact her mother had decided never to return to Milan? Tina Rosselli had had enough of her home city, where she couldn’t go anywhere without everyone knowing who she was. Would she never live down her reputation? She had fallen in love with a country where she had the opportunity to reinvent herself. After a few weeks, she wrote to Valentina asking her to join her in the States, but her daughter resolutely refused. She tried again a couple more times, but Valentina was firm in her determination to stay in Milan. And so time rolled by, and the truth is that mother and daughter have not seen each other for more than seven years.
To this day Valentina still blames her mother for the loss of Francesco. Illogical, she knows. Yet Tina denied her a resolution to the affair. She needed to know whether Francesco actually loved her, or whether she had just been a diversion from his marriage. She needed him to answer this question, face to face.
Over the years she has never forgotten how powerless her love for Francesco made her feel. She never wants to feel like that again, and so she has managed to keep every man she meets at arm’s length. That is until she met Theo. She can’t deny it; since he moved in, the dynamic of their relationship has changed.
She reads his email one more time.
Have fun.
What the hell does he mean? She thinks back to the first few weeks of their affair. How exciting it all was, how different, how much fun they had.
The second time they met started normally enough. He had rung her and asked her to meet him for a drink at the Principe di Savoia in Milan. She thought it a rather grand location but assumed they would have one delectable aperitivo there, and move on to somewhere less lavish. However, when she arrived at the hotel bar at the appointed time, there was no sign of Theo. She wound her way through the armchairs and little tables, slightly daunted by the sheer luxury of this place, yet loving its opulence. It was so Milan, so her. She sank into one of the large wing-back armchairs and ordered a mojito. To her surprise, when the waitress returned with her drink and a selection of juic
y olives and other scrumptious treats, she handed her a rather bulky envelope. On the front, in elaborate calligraphy, was written her name: Signorina Valentina Rosselli.
She knew instantly it was from Theo. He was the kind of man who wrote in fancy script. She tore the envelope open, and a key card fell out into her lap, along with a roll of black silk and a small white card, on which was typed in Courier font, Room 342. Put this on before you open the door.
He must mean the piece of silk, which she unwound to reveal a blindfold. Quickly she folded it up again, in case anyone had seen it, but the lounge was all but empty and the waitress had disappeared. She took a sip of her mojito. Part of her was incredibly annoyed. How presumptuous of him. This was only the second time they had met. In fact their first proper date. Didn’t he believe in wining and dining a woman? Yet what else could she expect after their first encounter? She should finish up her aperitivo and march right on out of here, leave him stewing in Room 342. There was a part of her, though, that had been aroused by his little game. How very naughty this was. Hadn’t she known the night was going to end this way? Why else had she put on her little black silk dress, with the zipper all the way down the back? And only a tiny black lace G-string and stockings underneath? So what if the night began how she thought it would end. She was a liberated young woman and could do exactly as she pleased.
So it was that Valentina found herself riding the elevator up to the third floor of the luxurious Principe di Savoia. She had always wanted to stay here, but never imagined it would be like this. How could he afford it? she thought as she stepped out into the corridor, her palms sticky as her hands clutched the room key, her pulse racing. What if he changed his mind when he saw her again? What if the magic between them had only been for that one night? Well, she was here now. She couldn’t turn back. Outside the door she surveyed the corridor to the left and to the right. Not a soul in sight. She slipped on the blindfold, and pushed the key card into the lock. When she heard the click, she pushed the door open.
What an incredible night that was. In fact, Theo did wine and dine her, but in silence, no chitchat, and with her blindfold on. She can still recall that first delicious fizz of cold champagne in her mouth. He fed her, and more shocking to her than that, she let him. It was a meal she could never forget. He started with antipasti. Tiny titbits of sundried tomatoes, grilled aubergine and roasted peppers, succulent in virgin olive oil and rich with garlic. Next came spaghetti, laced with creamy pesto sauce and Parmesan.
‘Suck,’ he urged her, as he fed her forkfuls. She imagined him looking at her lips as she sucked on the threads of pasta. She wondered if he was as turned on as she was.
‘Now, Valentina, I have some meat for you,’ he said. She could hear the tease in his voice, and she found herself on the verge of giggling, an unusual sensation for her.
‘Stand up, please,’ he ordered. He walked around the back of her, and she could feel his fingers on her zip. ‘My, what a clever dress,’ he remarked as he unzipped it all the way down, right to the hem, so that it fell away from her body and slid off her arms and front.
He took her hands and guided her back into the chair. She started with fright as he placed a plate on her lap. It was still hot on the bottom but not unpleasantly so. In fact it started to spread more warmth, curling inside her loins, melting her down below.
‘Open your mouth, please.’ He popped a tiny piece of rare steak on to her tongue. She began to chew. It was so tender, it practically melted inside her mouth. Meat had never tasted so good to her before.
‘I want to see you,’ she said suddenly. The game had gone on long enough. He had fed her to the edge of her desire, and now she wanted to see him.
‘Whenever you want,’ he said gently.
She pulled the blindfold off, blinking in the dimly lit room. Theo was there in front of her. Oh yes, he was the same as he had been the day before. Dark and feline, utterly irresistible. He pinned her with his gaze, and it took her a couple of seconds to notice that he was naked as well.
‘I want more,’ she said, holding him with her eyes.
‘There’s plenty more steak.’
She reached down with her hand, placed it on his hard penis.
‘That’s not what I meant,’ she said.
‘What about dessert?’ he asked her levelly. ‘It’s chocolate mousse.’
She arched her eyebrow at him, giving him a rare smile.
‘Well I know what I can do with that. You’re my dessert.’
That night was full of sensations for Valentina. The flavours, textures and smells of the food mixing with his scent and feel and taste. It was as if Theo was able to unfurl layer after layer of the passion that lay within her. Just when she thought she had peaked, he took her even higher.
The pattern was set for their affair. They would meet once, possibly twice a week, at a hotel, and indulge all night long. Sometimes they played games, like the time in the Savoia, and sometimes it was pure, straight-up raw sex. At first they used hotels in Milan, but after a couple of weeks they began to meet in different cities in northern Italy: Verona, Bologna, Turin, and of course Venice. Always they travelled separately and would meet at the appointed rendezvous. Somehow it made it more exciting, illicit almost, although neither of them was married or with anyone else. After about a month, Valentina began to take the initiative. She will never forget the time she sent Theo a message to meet her at a hotel in Bologna. She waited for him in the bar, still in her trench coat. It was pouring with rain outside. Theo came dashing into the bar, his hair laced with raindrops, his cheeks damp, his enthusiasm infectious. Her heart lifted just to see him. He sat down next to her at the bar, smiled at her slyly.
‘Can I buy you a drink?’ he asked formally.
This is how they would start, as if they were strangers once again. Meeting anonymously. Picking each other up.
Two glasses of prosecco later, Theo asked her if she wanted to take off her coat. Surely she was getting a little hot? She had been waiting for this moment. She spun around on her stool, and gave him a serious stare as she untied her belt and started to unbutton her coat.
‘Are you sure you want me to do this here?’ she asked him.
He looked at her in bemusement. She opened her mouth slightly, running her tongue along her bottom lip, while at the same time parting her legs, forcing her coat up her thighs so that he could see what she did or rather didn’t have on. His eyes widened in surprise, and then darkened with desire.
‘Why, Signorina Rosselli,’ he whispered, his voice an octave lower. ‘You are a shocking young woman.’
She swung off her seat and sashayed out of the bar, her coat half undone, not failing to turn a few heads in her wake. He followed her out into the foyer, and into the lift.
‘What floor?’ he asked, putting his hand over hers as she pressed the button, and bringing it to his lips.
‘Four.’
He stripped her of her coat in the lift, delighted at her audacity, kissing her hard on the mouth before wrapping the coat around her again and literally dragging her to their room. There they made intoxicating love in the very spot they landed as they fell through the door.
This was how they continued for two months. The day he moved into her apartment started well on the office desk, but gradually the spontaneity waned. And curiously it was Valentina, rather than Theo, who sobered up first. She knew it was because of that telephone conversation with her mother, when Tina had claimed that neither of them could ever relate properly to one man. It had irritated Valentina to such an extent that she was trying hard to prove her mother wrong. So when Theo left one of his envelopes for her one morning after he had gone out, she didn’t rip it open with glee as she had done before. Instead she read the contents calmly, tore up the card and instructions and rang him to tell him that now they were living together, there was no point to their secret trysts any more. They could go on a proper holiday that summer with the money they would save. She remembers the disappoin
tment in Theo’s voice.
‘Are you sure that’s what you want?’ he asked her.
‘Yes,’ she replied emphatically. ‘It was fun, but now we are living together, it’s not appropriate.’
‘I don’t understand. Are we just roommates now? Do you not want to have sex any more?’ he said in a low, anxious voice.
‘No. I mean, of course I want to have sex with you. But . . . well . . . we are living together, and we have to be clear about things.’
She paused, and he didn’t reply, so she continued in as light a tone as she could. ‘I just think it’s important that I don’t think I own you . . . I mean, you’re free to sleep with anyone else you want to . . .’
As she listened to herself, it was as if her mother was speaking. She was certain she had heard Tina use that very line to one of her many lovers.
Theo was silent for a moment.
‘Valentina, let’s talk about this when I get home.’ His voice sounded tight, possibly angry.
She made sure she was out that evening with Antonella and Gaby, and by the time she got in, he was already in bed. Still awake and waiting for her. She didn’t let him speak, putting her hand over his mouth as she made love to him. Neither of them ever brought the subject up again, and there were no more surprise envelopes delivered. Yet when she thinks back to that night, she has a vague memory that maybe, just maybe Theo did say something to her, after they had made love. She was drifting off, curled up within his arms, inhaling the sanctity of his scent, when she might have heard him whispering to her:
‘I want what you want, Valentina.’
Did she dream it? She must have done, for he is almost as flighty as she is, disappearing on mysterious work trips and flirting easily with other women when they are out together. He never seems to mind any attention she might be receiving herself.
Have fun.
Maybe she should have continued to play those games with him. But she hasn’t felt much like fun the past few weeks, despite her best efforts. In fact reading those two words, innocuous as they are, makes her uncomfortable. She is due to go on her first photographic assignment in Leonardo’s club today. She wants to discuss her ideas for the shoot with Theo, and now he doesn’t even know that she will be spending the evening in the company of sadomasochists.
