There was no response. Paolo checked his watch. Cautiously, he opened the door and stepped inside. The room was dark.
“Signore Carmine?”
A figure moved toward him. “Paolo…”
He recognized Lucia’s voice. “Lucia, I’m looking for your father. Is he here?”
She was closer to him now, close enough for Paolo to see that she was stark naked.
“My God!” Paolo gasped. “What—?”
“I want you to make love to me.”
“You’re pazzo! You’re only a child. I’m getting out of here.” He started toward the door.
“Go ahead. I’ll tell my father you raped me.”
“No, you wouldn’t.”
“Leave, and you’ll find out.”
He stopped. If Lucia carried out her threat, there was not the slightest doubt in Paolo’s mind as to what his fate would be. Castration would be only the beginning.
He walked back to Lucia to reason with her. “Lucia, dear—”
“I like it when you call me dear.”
“No—listen to me, Lucia. This is very serious. Your father will kill me if you tell him I raped you.”
“I know.”
He made another stab at it. “My father would be disgraced. My whole family would be disgraced.”
“I know.”
It was hopeless. “What do you want from me?”
“I want you to do it to me.”
“No. It is impossible. If your father found out, he would kill me.”
“And if you leave here he will kill you. You don’t have much choice, do you?”
He stared at her, panicky. “Why me, Lucia?”
“Because I’m in love with you, Paolo!” She took his hands and pressed them gently between her legs. “I’m a woman. Make me feel like one.”
In the dim light Paolo could see the twin mounds of her breasts, her hard nipples, and the soft, dark hair between her legs.
Jesus, Paolo thought. What can a man do?
She was leading him to a couch, helping him out of his trousers and his shorts. She knelt and put his male hardness in her mouth, sucked it gently, and Paolo thought: She’s done this before. And when he was on top of her, plunging deep inside her, and she had her hands tightly wrapped around his backside, her hips thrusting hungrily against his, Paolo thought: My God, she’s marvelous.
Lucia was in heaven. It was as though she had been born for this. Instinctively she knew exactly what to do to please him and to please herself. Her whole body was on fire. She felt herself building to a climax, higher and higher, and when it finally happened, she screamed aloud in sheer joy. They both lay there, spent, breathing hard.
Lucia finally spoke. She said, “Same time tomorrow.”
When Lucia was sixteen, Angelo Carmine decided that it was time for his daughter to see something of the world. With elderly Aunt Rosa as chaperone, Lucia spent her school holidays in Capri and Ischia, Venice and Rome, and a dozen other places.
“You must be cultured—not a peasant, like your Papa. Travel will round out your education. In Capri Aunt Rosa will take you to see the Carthusian Monastery of St. James and the Villa of San Michele and the Palazzo a Mare…”
“Yes, Papa.”
“In Venice there is St. Mark’s Basilica, the Doges’ Palace, the church of San Giorgio, and the Accademia museum.”
“Yes, Papa.”
“Rome is the treasure house of the world. There you must visit the Vatican City, and the Basilica of Santa Maria Maggjore, and the Borghese Gallery, of course.”
“Of course.”
“And Milano! You must go to the Conservatorio for a concert recital. I will arrange tickets for La Scala for you and Aunt Rosa. In Florence you will see the Municipal Museum of Art, the Uffizi Museum, and there are dozens of churches and museums.”
“Yes, Papa.”
With very careful planning, Lucia managed to see none of those places. Aunt Rosa insisted on taking a siesta every afternoon and retiring early each evening.
“You must get your rest too, child.”
“Certainly, Aunt Rosa.”
And so, while Aunt Rosa slept, Lucia danced at the Quisisana in Capri, rode in a carrozza with a beplumed and behatted horse pulling it, joined a group of college boys at the Marina Piccola, went on picnics at Bagni di Tiberio, and took the funicolare up to Anacapri, where she joined a group of French students for drinks at the Piazza Umberto I.