Artistic Licence

by Vivienne Lafay

‘Oh yes! I’m sure I’ll learn a great deal just by watching.’

  ‘I’m not keeping you just to watch, you cheeky young fellow!’

  ‘Oh no! I didn’t mean . . . It’s just that if I can’t do any real painting yet at least I can see how it’s done.’

  Piero grunted, reaching for his carafe. He poured himself a generous measure of white wine but did not offer them any. Carla looked out of the window and saw the giant tower of the Signoria in the distance. What would Claudio and Lucca say if they knew how soon she’d fallen on her feet? They would be green with envy!

  ‘He’ll have to sleep up here, there’s no room with the rest of you lot,’ Piero continued, thoughtfully. ‘I’ll have a trestle bed made up.’

  Marco winked at her. ‘Lucky you!’ he muttered under his breath, with a grin.

  ‘Now take him downstairs and make him earn his supper,’ Piero said, with an impatient wave of his hand.

  It was surprising how quickly Carla felt at home amongst the apprentices. They all seemed keen to show her how things were done, and by supper time she knew how to grind and mix some of the pigments. She had also made a couple of hogshair brushes, not as well as the others, but of a passable standard.

  ‘Tomorrow you’ll get to prepare some of the boxwood panels with ashes of chicken bones,’ Marco told her. She made a face. ‘Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it. It’s vital work. Wood isn’t fit to paint on until its been treated in various ways. You’ll soon learn all there is to know.’

  He smiled at her and, once again, she felt the old tug of desire in her belly. Of all the apprentices he was the one who attracted her most, but Carla knew she must keep her feelings well under control. With everyone living in each others’ pockets she must be extra careful to get along with everyone, and most of all with Piero. Already she was in awe of the master, who ruled all the lads with quiet authority. He had only to frown and the least of them hastened to apologise, or rushed to do his bidding.

  The thought that Carla must sleep upstairs in his quarters was daunting. As dusk fell and the meal ended, she grew more and more nervous. She helped clear the table and swill the dishes in the big stone sink, then Piero beckoned to her. ‘Come along now, Carlo. I’ll show you to your bed. Bring that taper.’

  She picked up the lighted candle from the table and followed him out of the door. As she went she thought she could hear whispers and sniggers behind her, and her heart fell. Were the others jealous of her because she seemed to be getting special treatment? She had vowed not to do anything to upset anyone, but it was hard when she was unaccustomed to their ways.

  To her dismay, Carla found that Piero had made up a bed for her near to his own. She had presumed she would be sleeping next door, but now she would have no privacy. What would happen when her courses came and she was obliged to dispose of her blood-soaked rags? The problem had been worrying her ever since she arrived and now it seemed even more formidable. Well she would have to find a way round it somehow.

  Piero sat down on his bed with his legs apart. ‘Help me off with my boots, there’s a good chap.’

  Carla struggled to pull off the leather boots and when she had succeeded she was horrified to see him take off his hose right in front of her, exposing his private parts.

  ‘What’s the matter – never seen such a fine set before?’ he grinned. ‘Well, you shall strike up an intimate acquaintance with my cock and balls. Fetch that bowl of water over here and give them a good washing.’

  She stared at him, disbelieving, but the frown that shadowed his brow when she hesitated sent her scurrying across the room to the washbowl. Carla knew she could not afford to get on the wrong side of her new master, but her heart was protesting loudly in her ears. As she knelt before him to perform the task his prick reared up and began to swell, attaining mighty proportions. She stared at it fascinated. It was even larger than Stefano’s had been. But it stank of stale sweat and semen, making her wrinkle her nose.

  ‘What are you waiting for? Get on with it!’ Piero snapped.

  Carla took the sodden sponge from the bowl and began to wash the glans while she held the shaft with her other hand. The penis throbbed and jerked with a will of its own, and Piero gave a grunt of satisfaction. She grew bolder and sponged the whole of his shaft then started on his balls.

  ‘Go easy!’ he warned her, as her hands fumbled with the soft scrotum. ‘You should know how to handle a man’s tackle by now. I dare say you never stop handling your own!’

  His words only increased her trepidation. How could she hope to keep her gender a secret when they were living at such close quarters? And when her secret was out she would no doubt be given a beating and turned out onto the street again, or worse. Her fingers trembled as she clasped the sponge and water trickled down Piero’s thigh.

  ‘Watch what you’re doing!’ he grumbled. ‘Here, use the corner of this sheet to dry me.’

  His phallus felt cool beneath her fingers and, now that it was washed and there was no unpleasant smell, Carla felt those strange excited feelings return. The reddish-purple eye looked up at her from his lap, seeming to offer a challenge. She started to get to her feet, thinking the job was done, but then Piero put his hands on her shoulders and pushed her down again. There was a weird smile on his face and his eyes looked blank and distant.

  ‘You’ve not finished yet,’ he said. ‘Act like a cat and give it a good licking for me. A sucking too, if you’ve a mind. Just make me feel as good as you can and I’ll let you stay.’

  The excitement within her intensified at his words. All the time she had been handling his prick Carla had been filled with a vague longing, and now Piero had put it into words. Yes, she secretly desired to kiss this wonderful organ, to lick and suck at it until she knew every contour, every crevice. The urge had been there with Stefano, but then she had been too timid, too afraid of upsetting her parents. Well, now she was on her own and she knew a bit more about such things now.

  A vision of the two women in the apothecary’s shop came into her mind and she bent her head over the erect penis and gave it an experimental lick with the tip of her tongue. Was this what men would pay for? The long moan of delight that issued from Piero as she began to lick more boldly convinced her that this was, indeed, what men liked women to do for them. At first it seemed alien to be tasting living flesh, almost an act of cannibalism, but she soon got used to it and then began to enjoy it.

  The musky flavour filled her mouth and, when Carla tasted the first bitter fluid that issued from the slit in his glans, she almost liked that too. He began to thrust hard into her mouth and at first she was afraid he would choke her, but she soon learnt to accommodate the bulbous tip which stroked the roof of her mouth like a caress. While she sucked at his glans she ran her tongue up and down his shaft, eliciting more exclamations of pleasure. It was very gratifying to please a man so.

  Before long, Carla was fellating him with abandon, becoming quite expert at manipulating her tongue around the smooth column of flesh while she learnt to tolerate the glans pushing at the back of her throat without gagging. She was unprepared for his climax, even so. When the hot liquid spurted down her throat she squealed and drew back in alarm.

  Once Piero had recovered from his ejaculation he regarded her with mocking amusement.

  ‘What’s the matter, didn’t you think I’d come? You can’t give head like that, idiot, and not expect there to be consequences. Here, wipe your mouth. You did a good job, I can tell you that. If you work with as much enthusiasm in other ways you’ll fit in here very well. Now get to bed. We rise at dawn, and then you’ll soon discover the meaning of hard work. Blow out that candle.’

  Carla lay down in the dark on the horsehair mattress and covered herself with a single sheet of hempen cloth. She could not sleep for thinking of what she had just done and how it reminded her of Stefano. Soon she was imagining how it might have been between them, on that sunny hillside, if she had known what to do. Perhaps she could have made him love
her, take her as his wife. She began to understand, for the first time, what power a woman could have over a man.

  The empty feelings inside her were unbearable, and she thrust her hand between her thighs and squeezed hard. It seemed to relieve the ache a little. Somehow she knew that down there, between her legs, lay the source of both her strength and her weakness, a force that both frightened and delighted her.

  In the morning the apprentices were up at first light. Carla heard the bustle on the floor below and sleepily opened her eyes, only to be rudely awakened by Piero. He pulled the sheet off her saying, ‘Hands off, lay-a-bed. There’s work to do. Get yourself up and splash some water on your face, that’ll wake you. Then go down and help get breakfast.’

  But when she joined the others they looked at her with sly, grinning faces and whispered to each other behind their hands. Carla was mystified until Giovanni said, ‘Did you have a good night then, with the master?’

  ‘I slept well, thank you,’ she answered.

  ‘It’s what happened before you went to sleep, that’s what we want to know about! Did he make you suck him off?’

  Carla blushed. Had they been spying on her? She looked round at their leering, impudent faces with horror, then Marco came up and put a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ he said, with a wink. ‘We’ve all been through it. Think of it as a kind of initiation rite, if you like. At any rate, you’re one of us now.’

  She gave him a weak smile. He, at least, seemed to be her friend. If this was what being an artist entailed, Carla wasn’t sure she liked what she had got herself into. This was a very strange household. It seemed the kind of place where anything could happen, and the fact that she was there under false pretences could get her into a lot of trouble some day.

  Chapter Three

  BY THE END of the first week at Piero’s, Carla felt accepted as one of the lads. She soon showed herself to be competent at all the small tasks they gave her, from preparing the painting surfaces to making brushes and mixing pigments, and she never grumbled if she was asked to do something menial like sweeping the floor or washing out rags. Although she was the butt of their jokes at first she bore it all good-naturedly and laughed with them. She was very contented with her new way of life.

  Although she was kept busy from dawn to dusk, Carla was still able to observe a great deal of what went on around her. There were always half a dozen examples of work in progress in the big, airy workshop on the second floor, and a couple more in the master’s room upstairs. The two senior apprentices were working on a picture of Tobias and the Angel. Whilst Marco painted the figure of Tobias, Giovanni was applying jewel-bright colours to the robe and wings of Gabriel, or putting golden highlights into his curls. Marco told her the work had been commissioned by a silk merchant to mark his eldest son’s first business trip abroad and it would be a kind of talisman, to ensure his safety and success.

  Carla paid even more attention to what the juniors were doing, since she hoped to join them before long. They were not allowed to touch the main features of the paintings but worked on backgrounds and minor figures. She noticed how they positioned themselves around a large painting so they could keep out of each others’ way. She watched how they held their brushes, sometimes supporting their painting hand with the other on their elbow when the detail needed to be finely executed. She saw how they worked with small quantities of paint on their palettes so it would not dry out, and how careful they were to match the shades to the samples Piero had given them. When Piero finally allowed her to wield a brush Carla was sure she would know what to do.

  Meanwhile, there were more pressing concerns, such as how to ensure she kept her female identity a secret. Her period came six days after she arrived, but the flow was never heavy and there was always a good supply of paint rags around the studio. She spirited some away when she went to the privy and then put the soiled ones in with the others when she washed them in the bucket at the end of the day. If the water ran more red than any other colour nobody noticed.

  It was at night that she was most afraid of being discovered as a woman, but after her ‘initiation’ Piero kept his distance. Carla often heard him labouring in the dark to give himself satisfaction, but after a couple of nights it ceased to bother her. Her own desires were another matter. She was having disturbing dreams about the other apprentices, and when she woke she felt ashamed at having enjoyed them.

  A favourite fantasy had her posing as a nude model while all the others sat round her in a ring. As they drew her figure they commented on it.

  ‘Small, firm breasts,’ one would say. ‘Just the way I like them. And such pretty nipples.’

  ‘I go for her bottom,’ said another. ‘I’d like to take her from behind with those pert buttocks pushing against me.’

  ‘I’d want to see her face. I’d like to watch her pleasure, it would increase my own.’

  ‘I want her to satisfy me, the way she satisfied Piero.’

  As the talk continued, Carla would find herself becoming more and more aroused in her dream. Sometimes she would wake in the night and her body would be in a feverish condition, the nipples hard upon her breasts and an itch in the secret channel between her thighs. It was then she would stroke and rub herself, trying to ease the intolerable irritation, but it only seemed to make it worse. Exhausted, she would drop asleep again but in the morning she would feel tired and fractious.

  It was in such a mood that she had her first confrontation at work. Giovanni asked her to pick up some delicate gold leaf on a brush and hand it to him, but she breathed too heavily as she was transferring it and the wafer-thin gold floated on to the floor where it disappeared.

  ‘Clumsy oaf!’ Giovanni snarled. ‘Have you any idea how much that stuff costs? Piero makes me account for every atom of it. Now he’ll dock it from my wages.’

  ‘He couldn’t help it,’ Marco said. ‘He’s never handled gold leaf before. You should have told him exactly what to do.’

  ‘Any fool can see the stuff is extremely fragile.’

  ‘I’m not a fool!’ Carla said, near to tears. ‘And I’m not clumsy either. How was I to know how thin the gold was? Where I come from we never saw gold, nor silver neither.’

  ‘Where did you come from – the gutter?’ Giovanni sneered. ‘I’ve noticed you never talk about your family. Kick you out, did they?’

  ‘That’s enough, Giovanni!’ Marco said, his voice surprisingly firm. ‘You may be the senior one amongst us, but that doesn’t give you the right to bully the new boy.’

  ‘Wait till Piero hears what he’s done.’

  ‘You mustn’t tell him. It wouldn’t be fair on Carlo. Anyway, the master probably won’t even notice, but if he asks, say you put an extra layer on the halo. He won’t quibble.’

  ‘Why are you taking his side like this?’ Giovanni asked, his sallow face dark with suspicion. ‘Fancy him, do you?’

  ‘Oh, don’t be so ridiculous!’

  Marco turned away in disgust, and Carla felt her heart go out to him. She wanted to tell him how grateful she was that he had defended her, but it was impossible with Giovanni looking on. He was scowling at her with the mean-eyed look of a wolf deprived of its prey.

  The quarrel blew over, but from then on Carla was wary in her dealings with Giovanni. She tried to keep out of his way as much as she could. He was the only one of the apprentices about whom she had any misgivings. Even Piero seemed less intimidating now she had performed that very personal service for him, seen him naked and heard him belch, fart and snore all night. Most of the time he left her pretty much alone, as if she had become part of the furniture.

  Carla did not spend all her time cooped up indoors, however. On Sundays the apprentices accompanied their master to church at Santa Croce and afterwards there were often exciting events in the square such as flag-tossing contests, bear-baiting or jousting. She loved being in the company of the young men, with their infectious energy which expressed itself in
jokes and tussles and songs. Before long she knew the words to several of the bawdy songs they loved to sing as they roamed in a gang through the streets, such as the ‘Song of the bakers’:

  ‘Into your oven goes my shovel,

  While I knead your pretty pies,

  Soon your bread will start to double,

  No need to show such surprise!’

  One afternoon there was a Giuoco del Calcio. The Piazza Santa Croce had been made into an arena with benches all round, and from the windows of all the houses facing on to the square hung banners of fine embroidered linen in bright colours, making the scene look very festive. Carla stood with the others at one of the corners, and soon the two teams came running into the ring dressed in their coloured uniforms of red and blue, and green and yellow, preceded by their team flags.

  The crowd roared, getting to their feet with much cheering and jeering. ‘Which team are we supporting?’ Carla asked Marco.

  ‘The reds, of course!’ he grinned. ‘Down with the greens!’

  There were 27 players on each side and play began at a furious pace which was kept up throughout. As they chased the ball from end to end of the arena Carla tried to work out the rules, but the only thing she was sure of was when one side or the other scored a goal. The game was exhilarating to watch even so, and everyone was in an excited mood by the time it came to an end. Marco was particularly pleased because the reds had won hands down. He put his arms around Carla and hugged her tightly, which made her happy, but the physical contact with him aroused feelings in her that she did not want to explore right then.

  After the match they all hung around to watch the entertainment and the other boys flirted with any girls they could find, some of them making secret assignations.

  ‘How can he possibly get to see her again?’ Carla asked Marco, when she overheard Luigi arranging to meet a pretty young girl.

  ‘Wouldn’t you like to know! I’ll warrant that next time he goes off to market he’ll be a long time gone. Or maybe he’ll steal out under cover of darkness. You know what they say, “Love will find a way!”’