Angelo had been part intrigued, part amused, part appalled when Gabriella's family suggested she join him as a trainee housekeeper. The idea of a job like that for a free-spirited girl of just 19 seemed a little strange, but the girl herself seemed genuinely interested in it. She explained, perhaps a little cheekily, that she had helped her mother with the cooking and cleaning most of her life, and would prefer to be paid for it rather than have to do it for nothing.
Academic pursuits had not been Gabriella's forte. Oh, she could add up lists of numbers well enough and even write quite good letters, but literature, algebra, history and science were still, largely, closed books to her. She claimed to know 'a bit about art', and clearly had seen some of Angelo's work before and appeared to like it, but the great masters -- Leonardo, Tintoretto, Caravaggio - seemed to have left little impression on her young mind.
What she had learned had left a lasting impression on her young body. Gabriella was passionate about physical pursuits. Not for her the pointless ball-games played by her peers. Gabriella was a keen and strong swimmer, a fast sprinter and a keen rock-climber, but her first love was gymnastics and dance. She had been high-school champion for all of southern Italy at 17, and could have been in the Italian Olympic team but for a broken ankle at exactly the wrong time. It had healed well enough, but by then her chances of Olympic stardom had gone.
After recovering from this setback, she regained her fitness very quickly, but there were few more gymnastic challenges for her. Consequently, she had thrown herself into her other preferred physical pursuit -- sex. Her body was slim, lithe and very flexible, topped off with a thick mane of lustrous black hair and some of the biggest, deep-brown eyes Angelo had ever seen. The lovely, white, even smile from her wide mouth and full lips, together with the twinkle in those big, expressive eyes, could give a boy -- or a grown man like Angelo -- a hard on at 20 paces. Coupled with firm, beautifully shaped breasts that were a size or two too big for her slender frame, and which she barely tried to conceal under skimpy, bra-less tops, she was quite literally sex on legs -- and very fine legs they were too!
Her family's approval of her gymnastic achievements was not applied to her sexual adventures. Rumors about her activities began to circulate, and the village was scandalized. It was said that she had been caught by one of her brothers, wrapped around a boy in one of her father's barns. It was also whispered that the boy who had been penetrating her at the time was another brother. A further, even fainter whisper that almost dared not be spoken, implied that the orifice the boy was using was not the one that God had provided for this purpose.
Her father was outraged. He was known to have a violent temper, and (it was said) had killed several men, including stray Mafiosi who tried to muscle in to what everyone knew was HIS village. However, his strict code of honor prevented him from harming a woman -- even (or perhaps especially) his own daughter. However wayward she was, Gabriella had always been his little girl. Nevertheless, a solution had to be found.
And so Signore Percotti arrived at Angelo's door that warm late-spring morning, accompanied by two of his powerful-looking sons and bringing the willowy, alluring and quite defiant Gabriella.
"Signore," Percotti had said after the niceties had been concluded, "I have always admired you and your work. You are the bearer of the sacred flame of Italian art, the natural heir of the great Michelangelo himself. You are a man who knows the meaning of the words respect and pride. Signore Angelo, I seek a favor from you. My daughter has become a little -- wayward -- of late."
"Puttana!" one of the brothers muttered under his breath, looking sideways at his sister. She for her part, merely stuck out her tongue -- a curiously sexual gesture.
Her father continued. "As I was saying, I, my family and all in the village look up to you. You are a famous artist, well-respected, wealthy and successful. This is a big villa you have here, very beautiful, with many, many rooms. I suspect you may need some help in keeping it to the high standard you are used to."
"Signore Percotti, I thank you. This is indeed a very large house, and I greatly enjoy living in it. I also greatly value the friendship and affection that you have expressed, and I return it. You yourself are deservedly known as a man of honor, garnering respect from all." Indeed, Signor Percotti's family 'protected' the villa, for a not-so-small consideration. Angelo well knew what the Percotti family were capable of. They were worthy of respect -- tempered with a little wariness and a small helping of fear . "But Signore, we are both busy men. Will you not explain the purpose of your visit?"
"Indeed Signore. I would consider it a great honor to me and my family if you would take my dear daughter Gabriella here as a trainee housekeeper. Signora Corini is a very able lady, but I hear that her father is not well, and that she may have to return to Perugia to look after him. Perhaps it would be well if she were to take an apprentice to look after you?"
"I had not heard about Signora Corini's father, I must confess, but if what you say is true, I agree that it would make sense. How much would she expect to be paid?"
"Oh, only a little." He glanced at his daughter, who pulled a face. "Most of her recompense will come from learning a new skill, and of course, living here in this beautiful villa with you, signore."
The old fox had it all worked out. Angelo's villa was well off the beaten track, on a small island joined to the mainland by a causeway that flooded at high tide. The girl would be isolated here, under the scrutiny of a respected artist in his late 30s and a rather prim housekeeper. Yes, of course there were gardeners and handymen, but not the free access to boys -- even her own siblings, it seemed -- that she would enjoy at home. And most importantly, very few prying eyes and fewer wagging tongues to undermine the Percotti reputation.
"I'll give it some consideration." Angelo smiled.
"I could, of course, reduce the cost of your insurance," the father said.
Angelo held out his hand. "A 50% cut in my premiums for as long as she stays here and you have a deal."
Percotti was clearly not used to being at the receiving end of such bargaining, but what was a little money when weighed against honor and reputation?
"Thank you, Signore Angelo. I'm sure my daughter will be very happy here. Kiss your papa, Gabriella."
When the men had left, Angelo took the petulant girl to the servants' quarters. The girl seemed pleasantly surprised. The servants' block was well-appointed, with nice views of the blue Mediterranean, and he suspected it was better than her accommodation at home.
However, Signora Corini seemed less than pleased at her new apprentice. For a start, she protested she didn't need any help. Secondly, if she were to take any, she would expect to be consulted on who she should -- and should not - take. And thirdly, she had heard about this girl, and -- she looked sneeringly at Gabriella's under-dressed state and rather sulky demeanor -- she was completely unacceptable.
Angelo took Signora Corini to one side and explained politely but firmly that it was for Angelo to decide who he employed and who he did not, and reminded Signora Corini that this was as a result of a personal request from Signor Percotti himself. The expression on the older lady's face changed to one of comprehension -- and also a little apprehension -- at the mention of the Percotti name.
"I'm sure the girl will be quick to learn. I will take a personal interest in her progress. Now please, signora, find the girl some suitable work clothes and set her to work."
After dinner, Angelo invited the Signora to join him in a glass of wine. He flattered her over the meal -- which was definitely up to or above the signora's usual excellent standard, and was surprised to see her blush. "Signor, I have to confess that it was the girl. I set her to prepare some pasta for dinner, but I was delayed by a call from my father."
"Is he well?" Angelo asked.
"Reasonably so, sir, but he is always grumbling about little problems he has with his health. But sir, when I got back to the kitchen, the girl had prepared the entire meal. I was ready to scold her for her sloppiness, but I must confess that she certainly can cook."
"Thank you signora, and thank you particularly for your honesty and your forgiving nature. I know it will be hard to train a girl with such a willful temperament, but I truly believe you will get on well."
The following morning, Angelo rose early as always, to catch the light on the trees and the water from his studio window. Just as he was admiring the lawns, a dazzling shape in white sped by. As he watched, it spun back, cartwheeling and somersaulting across the lawn in a bravura display of agility. He watched spellbound as the gymnast caught her breath, and then had to catch his own. Gabriella had tied her thick hair back tightly, and she was clad in a tight and very skimpy white leotard. At the bottom, the garment was a mere thong, a tiny white line that disappeared between her taut buttocks. At the top, it barely covered her nipples, her full breasts threatening to bounce out of its embrace at any moment.
Angelo stood entranced, his morning espresso cooling in his hand as this vision of young loveliness spun and stretched, seemingly for his delight. After perhaps 20 minutes, though it seemed too short, she completed her morning workout, picked up a discarded towel, mopped the sweat from her face and jogged into the servants' quarters, apparently unaware of her audience. Angelo, for his part, took his brushes and executed a passionate and assured work that captured the grace and exuberance of the young girl in a form that would hang on his wall for years afterwards.
Over breakfast, Signora Corini came to him. "Signore Angelo, I have a little concern. I was rather surprised to see Gabriella this morning, prancing practically naked on the lawn. I don't know whether you witnessed it, but I feel sure that the gardeners must have seen her. The outfit she was wearing -- if you can call it that -- was... well frankly, signore, it was indecent. I would be grateful if you could have a word with the girl about it."
"Do you want to stop the girl practicing her gymnastics? I've heard it is her favorite past-time?"
Angelo felt sure that the signora was about to say that she had heard that Gabriella had another favorite past-time, but thought better of it.
"No signore. I would not deny her such a healthy outlet for her exuberance. It's just the outfit. You can't let her wear that again. It'll start another scandal!"
After breakfast, Angelo summoned Gabriella. The girl had managed to make even the dowdy maid's uniform she wore look sexy. Perhaps it was because she had deliberately selected one that was too tight across the chest, perhaps it was the little mop-cap that set off her long, lustrous hair. There was definitely something.
Angelo explained that both he and Signora Corini had witnessed Gabriella's morning exercises. He was very impressed by her suppleness and skill, but that the signora did not approve of her leotard. Gabriella protested that anything else would be too hot, but Angelo simply stated that the signora did not want to see her wearing that skimpy leotard again.
