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USUAL DISCLAIMER *quot;SON FOR A MONTH*quot; is a gay story, with some parts containing graphic scenes of sex between males. So, if in your land, religion, family, opinion and so on this is not good for you, it will be better not to read this story. But if you really want, or because YOU don*quot;t care, or because you think you really want to read it, please be my welcomed guest.

SON FOR A MONTH by Andrej Koymasky © 2020
written on March 11, 2003
Translated by the Author
English text kindly revised by Dr. Nicholas Alexander 2 - A SMALL INDUSTRIALIST
*quot;No, no, no! We cannot afford it, we are already exposed enough!*quot; cried Alessandro Spalleri into the phone and angrily slammed down the receiver.
He took the glass of water, counted 15 drops of painkillers and drank it all in one gulp. Grimacing, he leaned back and heaved a long sigh. The internal phone rang. With a resigned sigh Alessandro sat up in his chair, reached up and answered.
*quot;Spalleri...*quot;
*quot;Alessandro? I*quot;m Riccardo. Am I disturbing you?*quot; a voice shouted into the receiver.
The man took the receiver away a bit from his ear and replied: *quot;No, tell me.*quot;
*quot;Here is a mess!*quot;
*quot;Yeah, as usual... what is up now?*quot; he asked, raising his eyes to the ceiling. He thought that he must change that horrible chandelier...
*quot;The shipper had it all wrong. We are receiving back items from at least four shops. He exchanged the labels of the addresses.*quot;
*quot;It was not up to you to check your shipments? Put on the right addresses, and send everything again. Must I always think about everything?*quot;
*quot;The fact is, that two customers have cancelled the order and the other two, if they do not receive the right items by...*quot;
*quot;They have the right to do so?*quot; Alexander asked wearily running a hand through his hair.
*quot;Yes, unfortunately. And the other two...*quot;
*quot;Send them as express delivery, right?*quot;
*quot;It will cost more in shipping than...*quot;
*quot;Never mind. If the shipper has made a mistake and you have not checked, what can we do at this point?*quot;
*quot;I insist that we must dismiss the Bagarelli!*quot;
*quot;And I repeat that we can not, or those of the union will trigger a strike and at this moment this would make us sink to the bottom! If he cannot do his job, it*quot;s up to you to control what he does. Remember that I can fire you at any moment!*quot; said the man angrily.
*quot;A fair cousin, you would be! After all that...*quot;
*quot;A cousin of the third degree. And all you did was always paid to you abundantly. And now, either you solve the problem or... Look, I am not in a mood to joke, Riccardo. Make do, and do not always run to mom every time you have a little problem: I*quot;m not your mother. Understood?*quot; he said, trying to remain calm and hung up.
He pushed the intercom button, *quot;Alda, I*quot;m going home. Do not pass any call to the villa unless the factory is on fire, okay?*quot;
*quot;Certainly, sir, do not worry. But first there would have to sign...*quot; *quot;So come now.*quot; replied the man with resignation.
He got up and pulled on his jacket. The secretary entered the studio and put on the desk the folder of signatures. Alexander, standing in front of his desk, took a look at each page and, listened to the brief explanations of the woman, and signed all the papers. Then he loosened his tie and put on his coat.
*quot;Thank goodness you*quot;re here, Alda. See you tomorrow.*quot;
*quot;Remember to be in the office by nine o*quot;clock, sir. You must get that phone call from Mr. Ciccarelli.*quot;
*quot;Ah, yes, it is true. Let*quot;s hope he will give me good news. See you tomorrow Alda.*quot;
*quot;See you tomorrow, sir. And... take care, sir...*quot; said the woman looking worried: she had never seen him so stressed.
Alessandro Spalleri went into the yard, got into his blue Lamborghini and left the factory. At the gate the guard gave him a nod and he answered absently. He jumped in the traffic, and climbed up to Pizzocalvo, to Villa Serena, which was his home, almost on the banks of the Idice River.
*quot;Villa Serena*quot; had been built by his grandfather, who named it so in honour of his wife, Serena Brondi. It was not a magnificent building, indeed, it was quite simple, on two floors with twelve rooms in all. But it had a large garden all around and was on the edge of the Regional Park. A peaceful place... at least until the installation of the phone.
Now, after his father*quot;s death, he lived there alone. Alone besides the faithful Ivano, his daughter Clara, who was the housekeeper, the maid and the cook, and her husband, Rodolfo, who was the gardener... and did everything else. Ivano had arrived to work at the villa in 1965, when Alessandro was fourteen, with his wife Bruna. There he had two children, Luca and Clara, and then the wife had died. From a simple waiter, he had gradually risen to the rank of *quot;butler*quot;, as his father called him pompously.
Ivano had seen him grow and was affectionate to him. Also Alessandro was very fond of the elderly man. Also because Ivano was for him a *quot;filter*quot; to the outside world, thus assuring that bit of peace for which Alessandro had an increasing need.
He parked the car in front of the villa and Rodolfo rushed to pick it up and park it in the garage. Alessandro greeted him and went inside. Immediately, Ivano appeared, who then pulled off his coat. Alessandro would rather do it himself, but knew that the man was keen about that small gesture, so he let him do.
*quot;Sir, you should take the medicine for your ulcer. I have prepared it in the living room, next to the mail. Do not forget it, please.*quot;
*quot;Thank you Ivano. How is Clara? She has already done the ultrasound scan?*quot;
*quot;Yes, it will be a boy, the doctor says. She is well, thank you.*quot;
*quot;Soon she will have to stop working for some months. Have you already found a temporary replacement?*quot;
*quot;Maybe yes, a Romanian girl, willing to do only six months... Do you want to konyaaltı kendi evi olan escort meet her, before hiring her?*quot;
*quot;No, Ivano, I leave you to decide. Do everything, please.*quot;
*quot;As you say, sir.*quot;
*quot;Do not pass me any communication please, Ivano, unless...*quot; Alessandro said, leaving the sentence open.
The man nodded: *quot;... unless the factory or the house are on fire.*quot; He ended with a smile.
Alessandro went into the living room, sat on the sofa, picked up the remote and turned on the television. He saw the medicine on the table and took it at once. Then, without looking at the small screen, he took the magazines and began to slowly leaf through them, reading here and there pieces of articles.
Most were German, French, and American magazines devoted to the toy market. Alessandro always kept himself up to date on the latest trends. What worried him most was that, despite all his efforts, he was unable to ramp up *quot;Giocagiò*quot;, the company that his grandfather had founded fifty-three years before. Indeed, he could not take it out from the edge of bankruptcy, or even just by downsizing.
Alessandro felt the responsibility of the two hundred forty-seven people working at Giocagiò. He would manage even in the event of bankruptcy, thanks to his account in Switzerland, but most of those people would have remained out of work. In fact it was a bad time for the economy and after losing a job, it would then be extremely difficult to find another one.
If only the cavalier Ciccarelli was able to get him that job order, he could not only be half way up the slope, but also possibly even expand, and so give work to other people. The next morning he would receive an answer from Ciccarelli... he could only hope.
Alessandro had in hand very good projects for new toys, thanks to that guy who he had found, Donato Giorgetti, a real talent. But he did not dare to start the new production, which would have required a significant investment, without first having a contract that guaranteed him a good position in the toy market. And here Ciccarelli could be valuable.
Donato: the first time he had met him was at the Nuremberg Toy Fair. That boy curly and dark brown, with a large portfolio under his arm, who wandered through the stands to offer its various projects to the toy industry, had first attracted the attention of Alessandro for his striking resemblance to an old friend, Ulrico Bellini; a memory that at the same time bothered him but did not abandon him.
Then, however, he had remained captivated by his ideas of an incredible simplicity and effectiveness, so much so that Alessandro wondered why, at least according to the boy, no toy maker had seemed interested in his proposals. Giorgetti was twenty-five, had taken two degrees, one in fine arts and the other in education, and worked as a teacher at a middle school in Ancona.
Alessandro was enthusiastic, and had offered the young man a purchase option: he would pay him an initial figure, engaging the Giorgetti not to give anyone his products for two years. If within that period the production would begin, he would hire the guy in charge of production, otherwise Giorgetti after two years would be free to offer his products to whomever he wanted.
Giorgetti had accepted. And now Alessandro had to find someone who would commit to do the distribution, before the two years elapsed. Ciccarelli had spoken of his kinsman, CEO of a large retail company of toys in Italy, France, Switzerland, and England. If the acquaintance of Ciccarelli agreed to place a good order, Alessandro could start the new project without problems and Giocagiò would take off.
Donato Giorgetti and Ulrico Bellini. How long was it that Alexander had erased from his conscious memory the *quot;friendship*quot; with Ulrico? Years, many years. But when he saw for the first time Donato, those uncomfortable memories re-emerged strongly, and almost intact.
Alessandro had met Ulrico in 1966, when he was fifteen, and Ulrico was seventeen. They had met at the horses*quot; stables, the first day Alessandro had begun to attend it by his father*quot;s decision. He had been hoisted onto the back of a gentle nag and the animal had started to walk in-step, peaceful and quiet, going where he pleased.
An elegant rider went beside him and greeted him: *quot;First time on a horse?*quot; had asked with a smile.
*quot;It is so much evident?*quot; Alessandro asked him as he responded with a shy smile.
*quot;Do you mind if I give you some advice?*quot; replied the other.
*quot;No, on the contrary...*quot;
*quot;Then stop the horse. First I*quot;ll explain how you have to take the reins and the bridle.*quot; the other one said.
*quot;Excuse me, but... where*quot;s the brake?*quot; asked Alexander.
The other laughed, grasped the reins stopping the nag of Alessandro, and began to teach him the basics. When the available time was over, and they dismounted from the horses, the other invited Alexander to pass with him to the bar, before they take a shower and leave .
*quot;We did not even introduce ourselves.*quot; the makeshift instructor said holding out his hand, *quot;My name is Ulrico Bellini.*quot;
*quot;Alessandro Spalleri, how do you do?*quot; he answered, shaking his hand. Then he asked: *quot;Is that fine horse yours?*quot;
*quot;Yes, it*quot;s my father*quot;s gift for my maturity.*quot;
*quot;Maturity? But how old are you?*quot;
*quot;Seventeen. I am two years ahead. They say I*quot;m some kind of genius. At four I could already read and write and do basic arithmetic, you know...*quot; Ulrico said, chuckling, but without giving himself airs.
*quot;And I bet you always passed the exams with flying colours.*quot; Alessandro said.
*quot;Unfortunately, yes.*quot;
*quot;Unfortunately? Why do you say unfortunately? Every year I manage in the nick of time and I always hear the sermons of my father, for this: you must commit yourself more, you can do konyaaltı otele gelen escort more... and all those stories.*quot;
*quot;Yes, unfortunately, because, you see, my mates hate me because I*quot;m younger, but better than they are , and call me a bootlicker. Professors and my parents instead expect that I always do great and greater things so... I am always under fire and I have very few real friends. But it*quot;s not my fault if I have a good memory and if I understand what was just explained, is not it? I want to be like everyone else. I even tried to pretend not to understand, to make mistakes on purpose, but it did not work. I am doomed, believe me, and not at all nice to be disliked by boys of my age. *quot;
*quot;You do not seem to me unpleasant at all. You do not have a snotty nose, even if you*quot;re a genius. I would like to be a friend with a genius.*quot;
*quot;But I*quot;d rather someone be my friend just because of me and not because everyone believes me a genius. I do not feel any different, from the others that want to feel me different from them.*quot; Ulrico said mournfully.
Their friendship had begun that very day. Alessandro realized early on that Ulrico was both a special guy yet normal, with his own tastes, his own doubts, his own enthusiasm, and his same problems. They were always better together, so they began to hang out besides the riding.
Ulrico was the son of the head physician of the Rizzoli Orthopaedic Institute, and the mother the dean of the arts faculty of the University. The families of the two boys approved of their friendship and encouraged it. So they met more and more often and spent most of their free time together.
Ulrico also managed to enthuse Alessandro toward his studies, explaining to him the content of the subjects in which he was not well versed in such a passionate and seductive way, that soon Alessandro even started to get good grades at school.
It was at the stables, after a great obstacle course in which they had trained together, that their friendship had a particular turn. Facing the last hurdle in the path Alessandro*quot;s horse refused to jump at the last minute and swerved so that the boy had fallen badly.
Ulrico, entrusted their horses to an attendant, and after having made the shower together, as they had got into the habit of doing, brought his friend in one of the private rooms, checked the condition of Alessandro and, since he had only some nasty bruises, had him lie on the couch and gave him a good massage with an ointment medicine.
The two boys had only towels at their hips and Ulrico had removed it to show Alessandro his bruises - they had already seen each other naked several times now, so there was no problem for Alessandro. But this time, because of the massage, Alessandro got a conspicuous erection.
Giggling, but not at all embarrassed, he told his friend: *quot;See what effect your massage has had!*quot;
Ulrico replied, laughing too, *quot;Wow! What would happen if I*quot;d done to you one of my erotic massages, then?*quot;
*quot;Erotic massages? Do you even know erotic massage?*quot; Alessandro had asked, *quot;Where did you learn to do them, at the University?*quot;
*quot;Not really, my Korean classmate taught me.*quot; Ulrico replied. *quot;Want me to do it? I*quot;m good also at this, it seems.*quot;
*quot;Why not?*quot; Alessandro replied, taking it almost like a game.
Ulrico, then, had changed the way he touched his body - he continued to massage, but Alessandro felt the excitement in him increase dramatically. He closed his eyes to enjoy the incredible feelings, and shortly afterwards, when he began to moan slightly for the intensity of the sensations, he felt the lips of Ulrico rest on his own. Without thinking, he reciprocated the kiss of his friend, guided by his instinct and by the skill of the other.
When Ulrico led him to orgasm, Alessandro let himself go with astonished delight.
*quot;Did you like it?*quot; Ulrico asked in a whisper.
*quot;Heck, yes! You*quot;re a magician!*quot; the boy said, still panting, his body shuddering with pleasant thrills.
*quot;So... we can do it again, if you want.*quot; suggested the friend.
Without thinking twice, Alessandro said yes. So, gradually, under the pretext of teaching him to learn those massages, Ulrico led him to make love together. He had been able to do it so well that within a few *quot;special sessions*quot;, as the two boys called them, Ulrico taught his friend to give one another pleasure with the mouth, and finally one day, asked Alessandro to penetrate him.
By now, they had abandoned the pretence of massage: the two boys were making love. It was so gratifying that Alessandro left his friend to bring him to that stage without posing any problem. He loved to penetrate his friend, pound into him, and he liked reading enjoyment on his friend*quot;s face while taking him. He loved to reach orgasm simultaneously with his friend.
He realized that what they were doing was something *quot;forbidden*quot; but a boy of sixteen, in which body the hormones are raging, does not have too many problems. So he gave himself up to their secret meetings with carefree pleasure. He had not asked himself if that meant being gay or not, whether it was right or not, normal or not... he liked it too much to raise too many problems.
Their *quot;special friendship*quot; went on for almost four years. They made love quite often, to the satisfaction of both. They were not doing it any more in the stables, but in Ulrico*quot;s room or in that of Alessandro, whenever the parents of either were not home. Although they made love regularly, the two boys did not consider themselves lovers, but just friends. Very *quot;special*quot; friends, yes, but nothing more.
But in 1970, when Ulrico was twenty-one and Alessandro nineteen, just as Alexander was happily mounting his friend in his room, with Ulrico*quot;s legs on his shoulders, and was vigorously pounding his ass, konyaaltı rus escort something made them suddenly immobilize, made their blood freeze in their veins.
*quot;But what on earth are you doing!*quot;
It was the voice of the father of Alessandro who, for whatever reason, had returned to Villa Serena several hours earlier than expected. They had not heard him come, had not heard the bedroom door open, they were too engrossed in what they were doing.
The father of Alessandro ordered the two boys to get dressed, Ulrico to *quot;disappear immediately*quot; from his house, and his son to join him in his studio.
The man was not angry, just worried. He said his son he was ill, he had to seek treatment and so entrusted him to a psychologist. He also telephoned Ulrico*quot;s parents to warn them of what he had discovered and Ulrico disappeared from Bologna: the parents sent him to the United States, University of California, to get his MA.
The *quot;emeritus*quot; psychologist, in a couple of years of intense sessions, did a great job on Alexander, a real brainwashing, to convince the boy and his family he had *quot;cured*quot; him. In fact, Alessandro began to court girls and also to bring some of them to his bed.
Ulrico, and the encounters with him, were forgotten, buried in the farthest corner of the memory, repudiated as something midway between a *quot;classic error of youth*quot; and a *quot;disease of the psyche*quot; treated in time.
In fact, in 1973 Alessandro had met Helene, a Swiss girl of a good and rich family of bankers of Lausanne. She was studying at the university of Bologna. So, with the blessing of both families, he married her.
The first months their marriage seemed to go on nicely. But something slowly began to go wrong: both the newlyweds were increasingly dissatisfied with their relationship, and only the strong psychological pressure of the father of Alessandro and Helene*quot;s parents kept up their marriage. The young couple did not fight, neither of them betrayed the other going to bed with a lover, but they were increasingly estranged and their sexual relations had ceased altogether. It seemed that for both sex no longer had any appeal.
When in 1978 the father of Alessandro died, the couple decided it would be better to get a divorce. They had no children, so there were no problems. Helene*quot;s family, practicing Catholics and followers of Archbishop Lefevre, still tried to exert pressure to prevent the divorce, but the same Hélène was adamant and, finally obtained the divorce, and went back to Switzerland.
Alexander, returned home alone and free, and more and more absorbed by business, felt no sex drive, not even the need to relieve himself, and did not seek another woman and, of course, much less a man - he did not even think of it. He felt almost *quot;sexless*quot; and it was just all right: he could devote all his energies to the toy factory he inherited from his father.
He also had an active social life, and his single status did not prevent him at all to cultivate good relationships with acquaintances and friends, were they single like him or married couples. Some single woman had sometimes tried to more or less discreetly woo him, but Alessandro always gently discouraged them: he liked to keep his freedom.
The young man had an innate ability to carefully avoid any form of intimacy that could lead to something sexual, be it with a woman or a man. Yes, even some men had made it clear they desired him, and Alessandro smiled, thinking that he simply was not *quot;so*quot;, that really, if women did not interest him, he was even less interested in men.
He did not even think any more of having been *quot;healed*quot; - that uncomfortable memory now increasingly distant in time had, in fact, been buried and forgotten.
Inevitably, both in the press and the TV, and consequently in conversations between friends, the subject *quot;gay*quot; emerged. Alessandro did not avoid the subject, he just thought that the existence of people with that sexual orientation did not interest him and did not concern him. The evidence was that he acknowledged the existence of pleasant and beautiful men and women around him to watch, maybe even to admire on an aesthetic level, but no one ever had attracted him and even less aroused him.
Alessandro attributed the fact that his close friends were all men, predominantly young and beautiful, and that there was not even a woman among his friends, only an easier understanding among men, a question of character. Women, as everyone knows, are too different from men, have other ideals, another vision of life, a much different reaction to problems.
All this, combined with the growing concern about the problems of the factory, had also made him become *quot;growling as a bear*quot; as his friends jokingly said, and the recently recurring headaches, and the beginning of a gastric ulcer had also made him somewhat grouchy and grumpy. He felt very strongly the responsibility he had towards the workers of Giocagiò. He could not understand the continuous opposition that, especially the unions, made between employers and workers. For him the fact of putting its employees in a position to work well and earn their due was a constant concern. In a sense, lacking a family, he had replaced it with the staff of his factory - he felt almost, though not explicitly and consciously, as the *quot;father*quot; of all his employees. Their well being depended on him; on his commitment; on his ability to arrest the decline in sales, and indeed to be back up the slope. The failure to do as he would have liked like was the cause of his headaches and his incipient ulcer, and also of his anger and resentment. Villa Serena had become really the only oasis of serenity in his life, mainly thanks to the respectful affection of Ivano and his family.


CONTINUES IN CHAPTER 3

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