Chapter Four – Carlotta.
Evelyn's heart thumped in her throat. The racing blood made her feel dizzy. It also made her fingers fumble as she closed the door of her car. She stood in the late afternoon light that made the copper of her hair glow. My God, was she nervous. Slowly she turned and walked up to the house, clutching her purse and the bottle of wine, wrapped in gift paper.
She wore modest heels and a spaghetti-strapped sundress. The balmy evening breeze caressed her legs. She had brushed her hair into luscious perfection, letting it tumble down her back, where it bounced against her exposed skin with every step she took. Subtle pencil-lines and dabbed-on shadow added expression to her eyes. She'd even glossed her lips.
The wooden walls of the house had been painted white. Its well-kept lawn seemed to go all around it. There were roses and blossoming shrubs, a flagstone path running up to a front door porch with white columns. Evelyn pulled the chain that made a bell chime. Inside, clicking heels approached – as fast as the rhythm of her racing heart. The door opened. The woman in the door frame was about half a head taller. She was in her late thirties, but the proud poise of her body gave her an ageless class – so did the ivory-white blouse and knee length carbon-black skirt. Her elegant pumps had quite daring heels. The dark hair was up; big, horn-rimmed glasses framed her gaze.
"Evelyn," she said, smiling, her voice warm. She grabbed the girl's free hand to pull her in. "So wonderful to have you tonight." There was a slight accent to her English; it betrayed Italian roots.
"Good evening, Carlotta," Evelyn said and there was a hesitant hug, followed by kisses that mostly met the air next to their cheeks. Dior, Evelyn thought, inhaling the perfume.
The house was lovely. Two tall windows allowed the sinking sun to highlight endless stretches of oiled oak floors and the well-polished limbs of antique furniture. There were blue rugs and colored pillows, but most of her attention was drawn to the floor-to-ceiling bookcases, filled with a thousand books, some of them looking ancient. Between two bookcases stood a marble statue of two naked girls, kissing. And between the windows facing them, was a huge copper vase filled with yellow roses.
"Welcome to my house, Evalina," the woman said, smiling as she saw how overwhelmed the girl was. "Please do feel at home." Carlotta took the bottle of wine and led her into what was obviously the dining room. There was a big shining table at the center, but in a niche to the back was a smaller round table. It was covered with white damask and set with crystal glasses and porcelain plates. Lit candles made the silverware sparkle. From an invisible source, Cecilia Bartoli sang Rossini. It was from La Cenerentola, Evelyn knew. Cinderella, how appropriate.
"I'll show you my humble house later, Evalina," Carlotta said, taking off her spectacles. "For now, please be seated. Let's have a glass of bubbles – I'm sure you'll appreciate this lovely Prosecco from my native country." She took the bottle from the cooler, popped its cork and poured some into a couple of slender glasses. The liquid hissed with white fury, then slowly calmed into a clear, sparkling wine. They toasted.
"To a newfound friendship," Carlotta said. Evelyn felt the bubbles dance in her mouth and down her throat. She also felt her muscles relax.
The dinner was wonderful. It started off with a fresh salad, deliciously dressed with oil and balsamico vinegar. Carlotta explained what was in it – fresh pomodori in red, yellow and green, tangy ruccola, roasted pine seeds and freshly cut buffalo mozzarella. And, of course, a subtle sprinkling of Umbrian truffles.
They ate and talked and drank Prosecco. And while they did, the sun went down, night enfolding their candle-lit niche. In the background Puccini's Madama Butterfly became Donizetti's Lucia di Lammermoor – how sad, how sweet. Evelyn closed her eyes and let the music's melancholy mix with her wine-induced buzz.
Following up on the salad there had been a small dish of pasta picante with a bite of peppers and garlic and a lovely dab of red pesto. Of course, they covered it with freshly ground Parmesan cheese. With the pasta, Carlotta insisted they change to a nice deeply red Barolo wine. Evelyn's gaze was lost for a moment in the ruby liquid. It reflected the candlelight as if tiny fireflies floated inside. She smiled widely when Carlotta once more proposed a toast.
"I could get to love this," she whispered. Carlotta caught her eyes.
"I sure hope you will," she answered, and they laughed. Then the woman rose and asked Evelyn to take her glass and follow her to see the house. When she did she felt the effect of the wine – her heels seeming twice as high, and shaky.
The house was incredible. A wonderfully crafted staircase brought them to a corridor filled with paintings and little statues – and more books of course. There was a huge marble bathroom that had this romantic claw-foot tub she'd often seen in vintage movies, and antique-framed mirrors all around. When they reached the master bedroom, Carlotta turned around and kissed Evelyn full on the lips, making her moan with surprise. Her knees buckled, and she melted into the woman who by now had pried her lips open and dashed her tongue between them. The entire world floated and gyrated. She desperately tried to find a place to leave her glass, but when she thought she'd found one, the precious crystal crashed on the wooden floor.
"Oh, my God!" she gasped.
"My Goddess," Carlotta chuckled. "It'll bring luck," she went on and led Evelyn to the huge four-poster bed. There they kissed again, the woman sliding her hand inside Evelyn's dress. She pushed up the soft satin bra and sent a million pinpricks up and down the girl's spine.
The lovemaking was slow and delicious. Carlotta never hurried while undressing the sweet girl she had caught in her web of candy floss and gossamer. She lazily caressed the white, delicate skin, kissing the tiny cup at the base of the throat, sensing a pulse with her tongue tip. She never hurried while her lips closed on sensitive nipples. She took her time to run her tongue down the chest and into the dip of the belly button. She smiled slowly while enjoying the girl's breathless gasps and little squeals of delight.
"Dio mio," she whispered, as she peeled the tiny thong off sticky pussy lips. The filmy fabric was dark with moisture. So very wet she is, and so very ready, she thought, tasting the juices that seeped from the pouting slit. When her tongue at last found the girl's clit, she was amazed how promptly she came and how desperate she cried out. Evelyn shook and trembled in her embrace, echoing the explosion of her release with a chain of aftershocks.
After she recovered, Evelyn opened Carlotta's lovely silk blouse, burying her face between creamy breasts. They were covered by a lace-and-satin bra. Hard and pointing nipples pushed against the shiny material as she sucked them through the fabric. Carlotta's cries lost all connection to the English language by the time Evelyn's mouth and fingers reached her carefully trimmed mound and weeping pussy. They were both naked by then and Evelyn turned around to swing her leg over Carlotta, offering her own drenched pussy. Their orgasms were fast and furious before stretching out into a string of smaller and sweeter climaxes.
