Beautician with a Mission

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(Chris - as you know I agreed to sponsor your Kilimanjaro climb. Weirdly, the job I've just got is taking me in the direction of Africa as you'll see below!)

I crept along the side of the hallway, feeling like a naughty school girl, taking in the opulence of one Rome's grandest mansions.   At the end of the hall, a door was ajar. I sniffed. What was that smell? No fragrance that I could think of.  Thinking I could learn some trade secrets,  I looked round the door. Of course – a swimming pool!  And in front of me a perfect rear view of a naked Alfredo. He stood no more than ten feet away, water running down his long black hair, pooling slightly in the cleft above his buttocks, before continuing its journey down his muscular legs to the marble tiles of the floor.  He crouched and launched himself into the air then disappeared into the pool with barely a splash.

It all started just three hectic days ago. I was kicking my heels at home when I finally got a job offer! It came in the nick of time as Stuart, my fiancé, had decided that it was time to meet his parents at their stately pile near Aberdeen. So a one week assignment in Italy seemed the perfect escape. Well, it delayed the horror anyway.

‘A week in Rome, all expenses paid. Must have an interest in fragrances,'  my agent explained. ' The perfect free holiday for a girl like you!'  When I say agent, 'lecher on a stretcher' would be a more accurate description of David.  Think Leslie Thomas in straight leg jeans and heels and you'd be close.

'Darling, it's only Promiscueus!' he shrilled.

I gasped. The Brentwood based fragrance house has been making waves across the fashion world with their new 'I AM' body spray. Have you seen their brazen strap-line? 'The smell of a one night stand'. Apparently it's raised eyebrows as well as questions in the Commons.

So with a quick ‘arrivederci’ to Stuart, I jumped on the first flight I could find. As I sipped my second glass of bubbly, and sank back into the plush first Class seat I finally opened the envelope that had arrived in the post that morning. 

'Find me some pure Killer Berry. Cosimo will help you'. The writing was child-like and written in red crayon.  I studied the envelope with its suggestive logo. It had Promiscueus written all over it.

As I walked out of the airport looking for a taxi, a huge black limousine with darkened windows drew up alongside me. I started walking a little faster. I couldn’t believe that the local mafia would prey on a single girl right outside the airport, but decided not to risk it. I sped up. Now, with my stride approaching a power walk, tourists backed away as my wheeled hand luggage carved a path through their less rugged bags and suitcases.  Why me?  I thought, trying to ignore the shouts and very Latin hand gestures. That’s when I tripped. 

The window of the limousine wound down and a beautiful, dark male face emerged.

‘I thought the Pope was kissing the ground like this,’ he said. I looked up to see the smiling face of Alfredo, heir to ‘Parfum Francetta,’ one of the most famous and wealthy Italian fragrance houses looking down at me.

I eased myself into the back seat between Alfredo and his father, the portly Cosimo Francetta and the car sped off through the streets of Rome.  Cosimo spoke ‘I must apologise for scaring you. I told Alfredo to wait on the sidewalk but he said that the breeze would mess up his hair. I suppose he had a point..’

I looked back to Alfredo who smiled. His dark, shining hair fell to his shoulders, where it was met by an impeccably tailored black shirt, the top two buttons of which were open. His chest was like burnished bronze with no suggestion of hair. I tore my eyes away, wondering which products he used.  I decided to get down to business.

‘I’m looking for pure Killer Berry.’

What!’ Cosimo exploded. ‘No perfumer would use it. What English idiocy is this?’

‘Papa,’ interjected Alfredo. ‘Surely, the little man from Africa offered some to you, last year.’

Cosimo huffed and pulled at his collar. Little beads of sweat appeared across his shining bald head. ‘I may still have his address, I suppose.’

The car swung between two intricately wrought iron gates and dropped us in front of a vast white mansion.

‘My hotel?’ I asked.

Alfredo laughed. ‘No, just our home.  Our humble home you say? You’re staying with us of course?’

Alfredo led me though the corridors. He opened a door and ushered me into a palatial suite. ‘It is a little late. I will have the food sent to your room’ he said, placing my case on the huge four-posted bed. ‘I’m sure Papa can help you. We’ll be speaking again in the morning.’

He turned to leave. ‘Just one request. Please do not leave your room. It is so easy to get lost.’

‘Of course’ I said.

‘It is very important.’ he added. This seemed a little unnecessary. I had agreed already hadn’t I?

After eating, I lay on my bed looking up at the curtained red ceiling above me.  With no TV and nothing to read, I decided to have a peek outside the door.  Half expecting it to be locked, I opened it a crack and peered outside. My door was opposite a gargoyle, which itself was between two massive gilt mirrors.  Should be easy to find my way back, I thought.  

A minute later I found my eyes following the distorted image of Alfredo's bronzed body as he completed five lengths underwater. Finally he rose to the surface and pulled himself out onto the marble floor. I guiltily stepped away from the door and looked back towards my room. No. Just one more quick look  – what harm could it do?  I put my face to the door and inched my eye to the edge.  Alfredo was lying face down on a towel, looking away from me.  His body was completely hairless - what I could see anyway.  He stretched his arms out languidly then spoke. 

‘Are you staying there all night, or do you come in?’ 

Well, when you’re found out, denying it just adds to the humiliation. ‘I couldn’t sleep,’ I said, deciding not to mention his instructions.

Alfredo turned over and faced me. ‘Well, now you’re here please to swim,’ he said, grinning.

I hesitated. What could I say? ‘I’m sorry, I don’t have my swimming costume to hand,’ or ‘No, I prefer to secretly watch men swim naked in the privacy of their own homes.’  With him lying there, without a stitch on, bold as brass?

I decided to continue with the bold theme and started to undress. ‘Would you please look away?’ I said.  I really couldn’t help being English. He smiled and turned over. My clothes quickly formed a neat pile at my feet. As I stepped out of my knickers I heard a familiar voice coming from the hall.

‘Stephanie? I decided to join you after all!’ Oh my God, it was Stuart!

Alfredo jumped to his feet.  ‘Veloce, veloce!’ he whispered.  ‘In here quick.’ He opened a door and pulled at my arm.  I made a lunge for my panties.  ‘No time!’ He followed me through the door, then closed it quickly behind him, leaving us surrounded by pitch darkness.

‘Ahh!’ I screamed. A hairy hand brushed against me in the dark.

‘Shhh! It’s just a broom,’ Alfredo whispered.

‘Stephanie!’ Stuart called. His voice echoed. I guessed he was in the pool room, looking at the pile of clothes on the floor.  Would he recognise them?

Alfredo took my hand. I could feel his bare thigh pressing against me. ‘Mercy! You are beautiful’ he whispered. 'We must go to Africa together...

TO BE CONTINUED...

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