Learning the Lifestyle Pt 13 The Party Pt 1
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Learning To Love free porn video
I was what is known as a ‘late bloomer’. I lost my virginity at 20 and, until that happened I was shy and lacking in self-confidence, for good reason. I was raised by my mother and she had no idea about the important things that teenaged boys needed to know, like how to meet girls and survive beyond the first date. How to dress ‘cool’ like the other boys my age did was another important lesson that I was not taught, I drew the line at the pocket protector and three pens that my late father the Professor wore, but other than that my dress sense did not exist.
My father died when I was 9 and my mother never bothered about re-marrying, in fact I can’t remember seeing her with another man, other than Grandad that is. She devoted her time to my well-being. I knew this because she told me often enough. ‘Only an ‘A’, I would have thought that you would show your appreciation for my sacrifice with an ‘A+’, you will just have to do better next time, won’t you, you want Mummy to be proud of you, don’t you?’
I hated it when she called herself that, it made me feel like a little kid and not an almost adult, after all I was 15 at the time. ‘But I answered every question correctly, I don’t know why I was marked down.’
‘Did you ask Mister Barker why you didn’t get a higher grading?’
‘No.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because . .’ I tried to think of a reason why I hadn’t asked him, apart from the fact that I was scared of him. ‘He doesn’t like challenges to his authority.’
‘Haven’t I told you often enough that you just have to stand up to people like that.’
‘I can’t. None of the other kids would ask for an explanation, so what makes you . . .’
‘Enough! You’ll never get anywhere in life unless you can stand on your own two feet.’
‘But Mother . . .’
‘I won’t hear another word from you. I am disappointed in you, you didn’t get a good enough mark even though you answered all the questions correctly, yet you didn’t ask the teacher why.’
I tried hard to get good grades, but that only made me feel more self-conscious. ‘Smart arse’ was a common form of address from my fellow students. I didn’t join in with them at break time, because they openly shunned me. I wasn’t involved in the usual sporting activities because of my small frame and lack of fitness. I made no effort to find a girlfriend, and this led to the rumour that I was gay. I made no attempt to deny that, as a result it was accepted as fact. At least I didn’t suffer the indignity of getting knocked back by some girl and her telling her friends that she had rejected me.
After high school I went to University. My mother wanted me to study Medicine, but the sight of blood was enough to turn my stomach, so I decided that I wanted to study Law. Mother was against this choice because her father, Sir Giles Thornleigh, was a Lawyer and a very good one by all accounts. Because of his success he developed an arrogance towards the world in general and his family in particular. The one thing that he could not stand was any family member going against his wishes. When Mother gave up a promising legal career to marry an Academic, a University Law Professor with whom she had been having an affair while a student, and whose wife had taken as much as she could stand of his philandering and divorced him. He was almost the lowest form of life in the eyes of her father, ‘those who can do, those who can’t teach’ was a common phrase when describing his new son-in-law, he turned his back on her, he even went as far as withdraw any financial support and to cut her from his will, she would get nothing from his estate when he died. As a result she was not well off financially, my father not having left her much when he died.
‘Malcolm,’ She had tried to gain favour from her father by naming me after him, it didn’t work. Personally I hated the name, I had nothing against my grandfather, but it added to my alienation by my fellow high school students, for some reason they took to calling me ‘Malcky’. ‘Malcolm, we have a problem. As you know, I’m not a wealthy person. I hate to ask you this, but I need for you to find a part-time job to supplement your student allowance.’
I remembered thinking to myself that she could always go back to work. The fact that I said nothing was all about me being scared of her reaction if I mentioned it.
This was what led to my meeting Mrs Frangelico. There was a café next to the bus stop where I caught the bus home from University. One afternoon I looked in the window at the rich assortment of sweet cakes that Mother would have a fit if she saw me even looking at, and there was a sign that said ‘HELP WANTED, APPLY WITHIN’. So I applied within.
Mrs Frangelico was a well preserved old woman of around 40. At 19 even 30 was old in my eyes, my mother was that old and everything about her was old, her looks, her attitude to life, the way she dressed and even the way that she spoke. She, Mrs Frangelico, was tall, slim with an impressively large bust that I couldn’t take my eyes off as I sat across the desk from her. She wore a dark blue Uniform with a logo in cursive writing that said ‘Café Frangelico’ above her left breast and a name badge above her right breast that told the world that her name was Giovanna and that she was the proprietor.
‘Tell me Malcolm,’ She pronounced it with the ‘l’, not with the silent ‘l’ we use. ‘I have never heard this name before.’
‘I wish that I’d never heard it myself, it doesn’t lend itself to any complimentary diminutive.’ Shut up Malcolm, I told myself, you’re applying for a menial job, not a company directorship. ‘I was named after my grandfather.’
‘Have you had any experience with washing dishes?’
‘Yes, I help my mother at home.’ I replied hopefully. Her expression did nothing for my confidence.
‘That is not the same as working in the café. Here we have many dishes to wash as well as the pots and pans from the cooking. It is hard work and your hands would be in hot water for hours at a time. I need to know that you will not do this for one or two days and leave.’
‘I will work hard, I need to work hard.’
‘Why is this, why do you need to work hard?’
‘I am a University student and my mother is not well off, I have to work so that I do not place a financial burden on her. I will not let you down.’
‘Very well, I will try you out and see if you keep your word. When can you begin?’
‘I can begin now.’
‘Good. Come, I show you the kitchen.’ She stood and I followed her swinging hips from the office into the noisy kitchen. ‘Malcolm, this is Gino, he cooks the pasta and sauces, you will be taught how to prepare the salads and garlic bread, and make sure that there is sugar and salt and pepper for the tables and napkins are folded properly. Maria will inspect the dishes and glasses after you have washed them, they must sparkle.’ She indicated a girl who was a younger version of her and who smiled briefly at me when she heard her name mentioned. ‘Let me tell you now, she is not for you. She is young and beautiful . . .’
This brought an admonishing ‘Mama’ from Maria.
‘You are young and handsome.’ That’s a first for me, not even my mother has ever told me that I was handsome. ‘But you should not get any ideas, she is promised.’ This statement brought a sharp glance from Maria. ‘Put your things in that corner under the bench and put this apron on and begin.’ She pointed to a pile of pots that had accumulated as we spoke, and showed me how to scrape the pots and to use the spray on the long hose over the sink to rinse them out before placing them into a sink full of sudsy water and scrubbing them out. When I had finished scrubbing I was to rinse the suds off with the spray and stack them onto a draining board. When I had finished washing and rinsing the pile of pots, I was to dry them and stack them ready for Gino to use. Having finished these I was to rinse the plates, cups and glasses, and stack them on
to a rack and slide this into a large dishwasher. When the cycle was finished I slid the rack out the other side, stacked everything and returned the rack to its starting place ready for another pile. ‘I must leave you to do this.’ She left.
‘Take no notice of Mama, she thinks that we are stupid and don’t know what to do.’ Maria said with a smile on her face that stopped me in my tracks, as she gathered up plates of pasta and left to deliver them to the patrons.
Gino worked hard, he had large containers with noodles of all types which he tossed into a pot of boiling water to heat through as required. There were types that I’d heard of, spaghetti, vermicelli and fettuccini, and some that I’d never seen before, linguini, tagliatelle, penne, spiralli. And then there were the sauces, bolognaise, marinara, puttinesca, different types of ravioli and gnocchi. When he wasn’t looking I would dip my finger into the sauce, as I’d seen him do, and taste them. This was all new to me, Mother was a traditional cook, plain wholesome food with the occasional, very occasional, venture into the more exotic such as her version of spaghetti bolognaise or even lasagne, neither of which tasted anything like Gino’s. She hated garlic, and Italian cuisine was nothing without garlic and herbs.
Gino saw me taking an interest in his cooking and began to allow me to assist, starting with the simple things like grating the parmesan cheese, preparing garlic bread which was a slice of crusty bread spread with garlic butter and grilled. After a few weeks I was asked to heat the pasta and crush the garlic for the sauces. I found it easy to talk to Gino, he was loud and boisterous in his speech, his actions as he cooked, and the way that he tossed the pans around. After he had poured the sauce over the pasta he would throw the pan at the bench beside the sink. Sometimes he would miss and the pan would hit the floor with a loud bang and slide along until it hit something. At first I would meekly pick it up and put it with the others waiting to be washed, but after a few weeks I would toss it back to him and tell him to have another go.
Day by day my confidence grew, a fact not missed by Mother. In the beginning I had told her that I had found a job but not where it was, I was too scared to, but as I gained in confidence I moved ever closer to telling her, the one thing that prevented me was the thought of her reaction.
‘You’re working where? This will not do, I will not be made a laughing stock by you. What do you think my friends will say when I tell them that my very own son is working in a café of all places?’
‘Friends, what friends? I have never seen you with anyone that could be called a friend.’
‘How dare you! How dare you speak to me like that, your own mother who has sacrificed her life for you, who has given up the chance of a fulfilling life for you! Is this how you repay me? Is it? No, don’t say anything, I do not wish to hear another word from you, not until you give up that job. The very thought of you working there sickens me. What is the name of this . . . place?’
‘Café Frangelico.’ The thread holding the sword of Damocles was about to be severed.
‘Please don’t tell me that you are working for . . . Italians.’ The way that she said that inferred that these were one meagre step higher than lepers.
Maria began to talk to me. At first it was to tell me what to do but, as I became familiar with the routines in this busy, noisy kitchen, she began to ask me to do things. At first her expression was neutral, but then she began to smile at me when she asked me to do things, and then her hands would brush mine as I handed her plates of food. She took me into the restaurant one day to show me how to prepare for the onslaught. The tables had to be wiped clean and the salt and pepper shakers, along with a shaker of grated parmesan placed in the centre. The diners would grab the cutlery as needed, so we didn’t need to have any on the table. All the time that she was showing me what to do we talked.
‘You are at University, what do you study?’ She asked as she placed a chair under the table that I was wiping down.
‘Law, I want to become a Lawyer like my grandfather.’ I knew as soon as I had said it that my lack of confidence would probably lead her to believe that I wasn’t certain of my career choice.
‘Is this really what you want to do, or are you doing it to please him?’
This was the first time I had my choice questioned, Mother opposed it, but didn’t question my choice or the motive behind it, it was as if her opposition was the end of story, I would meekly accede to her wishes. Maria’s question got me thinking, what was my motive for choosing Law, was it to please Grandpa, or was it to upset Mother, or was it just because it was my first choice of career.
‘I really hadn’t given it a great deal of thought. Maybe I chose it because the financial rewards are very good, Mother isn’t well off financially, and hasn’t been for years. When she gave up her career because of the argument she had with her father when she married my father Grandpa was livid and cut her out of the Will. Grandpa was by all accounts a very good and famous Lawyer, but after his reaction she’s hated them ever since. Maybe it was my rebelling against her authoritarian attitude, I don’t know. Any talk that I’ve had with Mother about my career has been limited in scope, it’s almost as if her choice of Medicine was my only option, my whole education up until then had been geared to a professional career in Medicine. I don’t know anything about other careers.’ What was it about talking to Maria that had me telling her things that I would never think of telling anyone else?
‘I’ve been watching you these past weeks, you have picked up the basics of Italian cuisine very quickly, and you seem to enjoy preparing the food. With a bit more experience you could quite easily take over from Gino. I’d like that, you’re much easier to talk to, and you’re not always trying to get into my pants.’ I had never heard anyone speaking so openly about this subject.
‘What, no, I’d never do that.’ She looked at me with a new expression on her face, if I didn’t know better I would say that it was one of disappointment. ‘For a start, I wouldn’t know what to do.’ This generated another new expression, one of amusement, but for once I wasn’t totally embarrassed by it.
‘You have never had sex with a girl? I find that hard to believe.’
‘I have never been able to get up the nerve to ask a girl out on a date, let alone to have sex with me.’
‘Oh, tell me that you’re having me on. No boy of your age should be a virgin.’ This time she seemed genuinely surprised but said no more on the subject
My life from this point moved slowly and inexorably in a new direction. At University I was more relaxed around other students, but my Tutor was beginning to express some concern at my efforts, or lack thereof, in the work that I was handing up. ‘Tell me Malcolm, why is it that a student that showed such great promise initially, should now show a decided lack of promise?’
‘I don’t know, it’s just that I just can’t get motivated.’
‘Is it that you can’t cope with the work, with the concepts, or is there some other reason?’
‘It’s something that I can’t get my head around. When I started out my path was so clear, but then I began to question my direction, was Law the career path for me. Then I realised that I have a new interest in life that, it would appear, is dragging me in a totally different direction.’
‘This interest, is it girls?’
‘No, at least I don’t think so.’
‘You don’t think so. Is there someone in your life that wasn’t there at the beginning of the Semester?’
‘Yes and no.’
‘I’m afraid that you’re going to have to clarify that statement for me.’
‘Well, you see, I have this part time job as a Kitchen Hand in an Italian café restaurant and there is a girl there. But it’s not
like that, you know, we’re not linked romantically. Don’t get me wrong, she’s very pretty and we get on fine, but her mother made it abundantly clear from the very beginning that she is off-limits to me.’
‘But, if it wasn’t for that, you think that your relationship would be closer, is that it?’
‘If I didn’t live with the reality of my situation, then yes, but there is no point in getting my hopes up. It is never going to happen.’
‘Getting back to your performance, do you see a future in Law for yourself, or should you be considering another degree?’
‘I’m caught between a rock and a hard place here. Having chosen Law against my mother’s wishes, I can hardly change now can I?’
‘That’s entirely up to you, but let me tell you, if you want to make Law your career then you will have to give it one hundred percent, anything less than that will lead to you becoming a mediocre Solicitor eking out an existence on civil actions between parties that can’t afford you. Your grandfather was a man who gave it a hundred and ten percent, chose his cases wisely, he only took on clients when there was a better than good chance of success, and then only for wealthy clients who could afford his exorbitant fees. If you look at the majority of his cases you will see that Blind Freddy could have won them. Somehow I don’t see you as that type. The decision is up to you, what is it to be, all or nothing?’
‘I can see that I’m going to have to do some serious thinking.’
‘You’ve got a week before your next assignment is due, you have until then to make up your mind.’
‘Maria.’
‘Yes, what is it?’ We were setting up the tables for the evening trade.
‘Do you remember a month or so ago, you commented on how well I was doing, and how you would like it if I took over from Gino, did you mean that, or were you just saying that to make me feel good?’
‘I meant it. What’s this all about?’
‘I’ve been thinking, I don’t think that I want to continue my Law studies. I like it here, and I would like to work here as a Cook rather than a Pot Scrubber, and I like working with you. I know that it will never be more than that, and I’ll just have to accept the fact that I’ll never be more to you than someone working for your mother, but this is what I want.’ There, I’d said it, now for the rejection, now for the humiliation.
‘Mal.’ She had taken to calling me that, it was certainly better than Malcolm. ‘Come here.’
I went to her. Maria looked around to see if there was anyone watching before gently taking hold of my face and kissing me. ‘Where did you get that idea that you could never be anything more than an employee in this place?’
‘But your mother, before I even started to work here, told me that you were, what was it that she said, promised, that was it.’
‘You are much more to me than that. As for me being promised, let me tell you that my father is living in the last century with his attitude, the guy that he wants me to marry doesn’t even want to marry me.’
‘What a strange man to not want to marry you, he must be gay or something.’
‘Forget about the or something. I’ll marry who I want to marry, and when my father tries to force the issue I’m going to drop that little bombshell on him, and tell him that there is no way that I’m going to marry a homosexual. Then let’s see what he says. For the time being, you and I are going to work together and reach a decision whether we want it to be anything other than that.’ She kissed me again. ‘Now, it’s back to work.’
‘Yes Boss. Talk about a slave driver.’ I smiled as I said that.
‘You’d better believe it.’ She patted me on the backside as she walked away.
Dare I get my hopes up? I decided that it was best not to, at least not for the time being, I needed to gain a lot more self-confidence before I could even contemplate such an action.
I was busy doing the prep work while Gino was making the sauces for the pasta in readiness for the rush. Maria came in and hung an order slip on the clip over the stove and turned to walk away. She stopped. ‘Mal, I know that you’re a Uni student and all of that, but why do you always have to use such big words? If it’s to impress me that you are more intelligent then me, or somehow better than me, forget it. You will impress me more by using words that I can understand without having to hurt my brain working them out.’
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