Courtesan's Lover by Gabrielle Kimm Page B

eyes, and the sort of beauty that would make me catch my breath.”
    Trying not to look too pleased with this, I asked, “And who gave you this description?”
    â€œMichele di Cicciano. I had approached him to ask for his help with a small problem, Signora,” my companion continued. “A problem of a very delicate nature. I have a good friend who has a younger brother, about whom he has been worrying a great deal.”
    So this young man was not seeking my favors for himself. A shame. But, whatever the business was, it needed to be discussed. “Perhaps, before you tell me any more, we should go somewhere a little more discreet,” I suggested.
    My new friend agreed. We walked together for some moments without speaking and found a low wall in the shadows of the great Castel Nuovo, where we both sat down.
    The young man began again. “Well. This boy is a fine lad, but what is bothering my friend is that his brother seems to have shown no inclination at all to initiate himself into…into…” He flushed an interesting shade of dark pink and stumbled as he tried to complete his sentence.
    â€œInto…the ways of the world?” I suggested.
    He grasped the straw gratefully. “Exactly! And Signor di Cicciano feels that you might be the perfect person to…er…bring this state of affairs to a satisfactory conclusion…without denting the lad’s self-esteem…” He trailed off.
    â€œAnd just how old is your friend’s brother?” I asked.
    â€œNearly eighteen, Signora.”
    With a disbelieving half-laugh, I said, “Not so old that his reluctance to perform should be a cause of anxiety, surely?”
    â€œHis brother thinks it is, Signora. He has his reasons.”
    I paused, wondering what those reasons might be, though I was able to hazard a guess. Perhaps he was afraid his young brother might prefer…dallying with his own kind. The penalties for proven sodomy are so terrible nowadays that were this so, the young man’s brother’s fears would be well-founded. Contemplating the thought that I might have been chosen merely as an extremely expensive way of luring a young man from the perils of perversion, I asked, “Why do you think I should be interested in this child?”
    â€œHardly a child, Signora. Gianni is perhaps a head taller than me, and already has regular recourse to a razor.”
    Something did not feel right. I wanted to know what the real reason for this commission might be. “In that case,” I said, frowning, “why should so impressive a young man need the services of a bedfellow as expensive as myself? Would not a girl of his choice suit him as well, and leave his—or his brother’s—pocket considerably better stocked?”
    The young man smiled broadly and stood up. He leaned back against the wall. His weight was on one foot; the other he crooked up against the cracked roughcast. “If we leave it to Gianni, Signora, he’ll be a virgin until he’s fifty.”
    Perhaps my surmise was wrong. Perhaps this was all little more than an elaborate joke being set up at the unfortunate Gianni’s expense. (If the young man’s brother was a friend of Michele’s, this was not inconceivable.)
    â€œHe’s very shy, Signora,” said the man in the green doublet, by way of explanation.
    â€œDo you set me a challenge then, Signore?”
    He laughed. “If you like.”
    I liked both my companion and the idea more and more as the minutes passed. My moment’s unease lifted. “Very well…” I named a price for two hours of my time. The young man’s eyebrows lifted into his hair and he flinched, sucking in a shocked breath through his teeth and whistling it out again, but rallying, he agreed. I presumed that he must be aware that even if it seemed an exorbitant sum, I am, after all, still considerably less expensive than either of those conceited