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The Italian Stallion
Willywin
Prologue.
Not sure if this is the purpose of a prologue. This is the second story in a series I hope to write that delves into sexual relationships during wartime, they're not about right or wrong, just how circumstances can affect people. This story will have three chapters. I know the anonymous BTB always seem to moan about my endings and no doubt they will moan again, so if you're looking for a BTB then in this instance don't read any further as you might be disappointed.
I am not writing from memory or any great knowledge of the Second World War, just snippets of stories told me by my grandparents and relatives of their wartime experiences, obviously they did not divulge any explicit sexual aspects just the general atmosphere of those times that comes from people making the most of life knowing death could come at any time. My grandfather was a farm worker exempt from military service and my grandmother worked in a factory. Part of my grandfather's responsibilities had been to supervise Italian POW's working on the Estate that employed him. My grandfather was also a member of the Local Defence Volunteers, or as my grandmother would joke 'The Look Duck and Vanish'. I have also used what information I can pick up on historical websites which of course are as accurate as the people posting - and of course military history sites. So, if there are any glaring discrepancies, make of them what you will.
Please comment on any descriptions of sex or my writing style as I know, as an amateur author, there is always room for improvement, and I do want to improve. If you do comment, try to make comments that are constructive rather than nitpicky or abusive as I tend to ignore and not to read them even though Sandy my wife does - I'm sure to annoy me lol.
***
Chapter One: Help Finally Arrives on the Farm
A warm sunny day sitting on the bench by the kitchen door, thinking back fondly of a time long ago when things were so different... Emily smiled to herself, she had no regrets, would do it all again - after all 'There is nothing like the feel of a thoroughbred Stallion between your legs'.
Spring 1944
The Allied preparations for D Day were well underway, the N Africa campaign was all but finished and over the previous year a steady flow of Italian POW's had been arriving in England. It had quickly become apparent to the authorities that the majority of those captured Italian soldiers were anything but die-hard fanatics and for the most were happy that the war, for them, was over. Showing little if any inclination to escape, it soon became evident that these Italian prisoners of war were not a danger. These Italian POWs were being housed in makeshift camps up that sprung up in all for corners of the British Iles. It wasn't long before it became official Government policy, where possible, to put them, well offer them work in the agricultural sector where there was a shortage of manpower.
One such Italian prisoner offered the chance to work was one Sergeant Giuseppe Forlani who had been captured towards the back end of 1942. He had enlisted in the Italian Army rather than wait to be conscripted and although he was not one of Mussolini's fascists, he was 'nationalistic' by nature. Never the less he had found it was wise to keep his opinions to himself about any dislike he might have of the clownish Il Duce to himself.
Having shown leadership qualities Private Guiseppe Forlani had quickly rose to the rank of Sergeant, and as a Sergeant he was someone who could be relied upon. He was well respected by both his men and the officers, efficient and empathetic, he was the first to curse a soldier out, but also the first to have that soldiers back - he had that quality inspired loyalty. Following his capture and processing he eventually ended up being barracked in a make-shift camp in the middle of the East Riding of Yorkshire between York and Beverley.
Not far from the camp, maybe five miles, was Oaktree Farm. Oaktree Farm was a small farm owned and ran by the Jackson family, that is James Jackson and his wife Emily. It was Emily whose name was on the deeds as she had inherited the farm from her father several years previous, this was just after her marriage to James who had been her father's foreman.
The farm was made up of 80 acres of mixed arable and livestock, the livestock consisted of a small dairy herd, several swine, some chickens, two horses and two working collie dogs. In the autumn of 1944, the arable land had been planted with crops of Wheat, Barley, and in April ten or so acres of Potatoes. There was also one two-acre meadow of Hay has well as a small orchard and a largish kitchen garden.
***
1935 The Story begins
It was in the January of 1935 that Emily's father, Frank Williams, a widower of eighteen years fell ill, his body finally succumbing to the effects of mustard gas from his time in the trenches. A proud man he had every confidence in his only daughter Emily being able to take over from him and manage the farm. Emily had grown up to be strong and independent and able to stand on her own two feet. Truth was raising Emily hadn't been easy for Frank, what with Emily's mother having died in childbirth, but with the help of Gladice, a fine woman who would also visit his bed and who at the time was also his farm foreman's wife, he had managed.
Frank and Gladice's affair worked to their mutual benefit, enabling both to satiate their physical needs in what would be a friends with benefits arrangement in modern terms, and though Frank had feelings for her - Gladice knew he didn't love her, not like she loved him. Frank was a widower still deeply in love with his dead wife. Never the less, unable to have children of her own she treated Emily as her own.
After her husband died Frank let her stay in the tied cottage rent free and their relationship continued. When Frank set on a new Foreman Gladice provided him with a room, for which he did pay rent. Frank approved of this, said it was good Gladice had an independent income and supplemented the wages Frank paid her for cleaning and helping with the milking, although he made sure she never went short.
Now being ill, and despite having faith in his daughter, in the back of his mind Emily's father knew it would be easier for his daughter if she had a husband to rely on, someone she could turn to, he knew all too well how hard running the farm could be. So, believing it was for the best, he pushed Emily, who having just come of age of age, into marrying James his foreman of the past four years. Why James? Well, he was single, he was in his mid-twenties, was a hard conscientious worker, was reliable and Frank thought James would make a good husband and he and Emily would make a good couple. Gladice agreed with Frank, Gladice being someone who Frank would seek advice from - she also liked James, after all he was her lodger.
Since a young child Emily had, by default, been a bit of a tom boy, she'd had to be and she had always enjoyed helping her father about the farm. In 1935 as a hearty spirited eighteen-year-old, and still under her father's tutelage she knew the ropes, she knew what was what, and all she lacked was experience.
As for James, Emily liked him, liked him a lot, she thought him handsome and fun, however she had grown out of the teenage crush she'd had on him when he first arrived. Truth was, after his novelty value had worn off, to her he was the farms foreman to whom she issued instructions to on behalf of her father. James was a good few years older, and yes, they got on, but that was about it. James meanwhile, knowing how protective his boss was of Emily, had steered clear of the blossoming busty attractive teenager, thinking it best to let some other pick that particular cherry. Not worth facing the wrong end of a double barrel shotgun.
The reality of it was, although she liked James, James wouldn't normally have been Emily's choice for a husband, yes, she was attracted to him, but not in a truly romantic way. Emily's hadn't had a lot of experience of boys, and although no shrinking violet, her experience of boys had consisted of a few fumbling's with boys from the village, and she'd retained her virginity. The itinerant workers on the farm had also known better than to try their luck with Emily, they were under no illusion her father would reach for his shotgun, that's if James hadn't turfed them off the farm first, as one or two who had ignored warnings had discovered.
Despite her reservations, Emily loved and respected her father and so to ease his worries regarding her and the farm's future, she cautiously agreed to marry James, that is if James was willing.
When the proposition was put to James by his employer, James thought all his Christmas's and Birthdays had come at once, his only proviso being that Emily was willing. Despite her short hair and tomboyish ways, he knew beneath her overalls Emily was a fine figured young woman and in layman's terms was a catch - and not just in looks. Emily was bright and fun and one day soon, as her father had pointed out, she was going to inherit the farm. Did he love Emily, well he didn't not love her.
The marriage went ahead and in itself was not an unhappy one. The two of them got on, they talked, they were compatible, and they didn't argue that much. However, the young wife just didn't feel she was married to the love of her life, and so the marriage felt like what it was, a marriage of convenience and she treated it as such. Not being really invested she did not express the open affection a wife in love with her husband might be expected to.
Right from the beginning, intimacy had been awkward for Emily, she hadn't felt comfortable with the relationship, James was nice but she didn't feel she was in love with him and despite the passing months, it had remained the case that she was never truly at ease being naked or undressing in front of her new husband. The night of the wedding had been a painful and unsatisfactory experience for the virgin Emily which was not helped by James's Bull in a China Shop approach, having failed to give full consideration to his new bride, James came away thinking Emily was rather frosty.
From a disastrous start they had been married a month before they had sex for the second time. This time James was more considerate, this made a third and subsequent times easier. Sex was something that Emily felt was more obligatory than desired, something she didn't initiate and most times felt it was something she acquiesced to rather than wanted.
With the circumstances of the wedding, and with his Father-in-Law still in the picture, James hadn't wanted to and didn't force himself onto Emily, it really wasn't his nature to, so he settled to wait until she felt she was ready. Besides her father was increasingly ill and required a lot of taking care of.
Six months into the marriage Emily's father passed away and Emily was naturally distraught and withdrew into herself. Although James theoretically now had a say in how the farm was run, but having seen how headstrong Emily was, he accepted that despite being her husband, it was Emily's farm and Emily's decisions that ruled the day. Unfortunately, Emily was a bit blind as to how she was treating her husband, telling him what was to be done as if he was still foreman, issuing instructions and giving him work orders to pass onto the farms two labourers. Sometimes this grated with James but he did his best to get on with things.
James had quickly learned that Emily wasn't an easy woman to be married to, she was headstrong and confident, traits which when combined meant she could be dismissive. Their relationship outside of the bedroom wasn't as cold as in it, in their day-to-day interactions there was warmth and affection - but what was missing was passion. James knew Emily wasn't in love with him but had hoped that would come to do so in time, however, he began to realise that wasn't going to be any time soon. But, being the optimist, he carried on hoping.
***
1938
A good working marriage with the only fly in the ointment for the couple being the sex, it being somewhat sporadic and 'staid'. Seeing no thaw in Emily, James got into the habit of leaving Emily in the farmhouse alone on an evening to seek solace at the local hostelry, sometimes staying out drinking to the early hours. It wasn't long before he began chasing the local barmaids, and for that matter any woman with a pulse that would give him the time of day. It was after a punch up with a disgruntled husband that Emily, hearing of this, became aware and angry, but most of all she felt humiliated. After a few choice words between them, she began to think she might be to blame, had she driven him into the arms of 'those tarts' as she eloquently called them. Unwilling to consider the stigma of divorce, it being against her religious beliefs, Emily sought Gladice's council and set about improving their relationship. Taking Gladice's advice she began making a concerted effort to show more affection, displayably so, and making herself more 'available' to him. Outside of the bedroom she began to ask his advice regarding farm matters and farm planning.
After a month or two she had to admit, that while the sex was still not something she felt she needed, it was a lot better than it had been. Maybe it was because she was making a greater effort than she had been that she was enjoying sex more, that and the memory of a traumatic wedding night had faded.
With Emily's renewed effort and James suitably chastened, his drinking and womanising stopped as quickly as it had started and as 1939 dawned it gladdened Emily when she fell pregnant. Nine months later Emily gave birth to baby Samuel, named after her grandfather. They were now a family, and what had initially been a marriage of convenience had morphed into a marriage of two people wanting to make a go of it. With her feelings for James beginning to grow she began to feel she might actually be in love with him, especially when she saw him with their son.
***
1940
The country was building up its Armed Forces and in September as they listened to the radio, she they heard Churchill's declaration of war with Germany. Many farmers were being exempted military service on the grounds they were 'essential' workers; however, farm labourers were quickly snapped up by the Army with the farmers receiving the promise of Land Army Volunteers as replacements, these never arrived at Oaktree Farm. Now there was just the two of them to run the farm, plus Gladice, the widow of the previous foreman - Emily expected James to seek his exemption.
Much to Emily's horror, and knowing James knew how she felt about him joining the military, especially with how her father suffered from being in the trenches, James didn't consult but went and volunteered for the fledgling Royal Air Force. Emily was devasted, she was angry, furious, but most of all frightened and worried. It meant she was going to be left on her own to struggle with the farm and with a young child.
During his basic training James volunteered for and was selected to be part of bomber flight crew. When he returned home on leave Emily had to admit he did look dashing in his uniform and insisted they have a photograph taken together at the nearest photo studio. The picture took pride of place on the kitchen mantle.
***
Winter 1942
In the two years since James joined the RAF, and with the lack of itinerant seasonal labour, and no sign of any Land Girls, Emily had been struggling to meet the quota's that the Ministry of Food had set the farm. Bearing in mind James was serving in the RAF, Emily had repeatedly asked again and again for some Land Army Girls, but none were sent...
Another blow for Emily, after struggling to run the farm by herself with the help of Gladice who was looking after Sam, were the increasingly infrequent visits home by James.
Then came the dreaded telegram. It wasn't as bad as some women received, and although she felt faint, she didn't collapse into tears. The telegram informed Emily that James's plane had been shot down over occupied territory and he was considered Missing in Action - at least this gave her hope, hope that James was still alive. A month or two of worrying later and she received another telegram, this one stating that James was a POW somewhere in Germany, that he had been injured but was alive. It was a few more weeks before she was told she could write to James and having read and re-read official guidance was able to put pen to paper, having been advised that her letters faced being read by censors.
Emily didn't really know what to write, it felt awkward, she didn't know how intimate to be in the letter knowing strangers might read the words she wrote to her husband, 'I mean do I tell James I love him?'. So, she wrote and told James about her days, what was 'vaguely' happening on the farm, telling him about Sam and forever hoping he was safe and that she missed him. The letters she received back were equally sparce of romance and were no more than James telling her he was okay and saying how he was looking forward to being back with her and Sam. James informed Emily that he'd broken his leg in several places when his parachute had hit a tree and he'd fallen to the ground, unfortunately he had been left with a limp and he suffered painful twinges, but otherwise he was fine.
***
End of Winter 1943
It was into the second year of James being a POW and life on the farm wasn't getting any easier, when someone, somewhere in some Ministry of Food office, decided Oaktree Farm would benefit from having one of the newly arrived Italian prisoners of War work on the farm during the day. Emily wasn't as much asked as was required to take the help offered so that her quotas could be met. Emily didn't like the idea of having 'the enemy' on the farm, what with her and Gladice being alone, but she didn't want to risk losing the farm, well risk the land being reassigned to another farmer - as she knew had happened to some. Plus, she told herself, she had a shotgun.
That first day, a guard, a lance corporal brought Giuseppe to Oaktree farm, the guard was riding a bicycle and Giuseppe was walking, well slowly jogging behind to keep up. It was a sunny mid-April day and Emily was busy clearing out a farm building in preparation for the coming harvest. Upon hearing the dogs barking at the two approaching strangers. Emily emerged to stand by little Sam in the courtyard where he had been playing. The widow, Gladice stepped out from the farmhouse drying her hands on her apron.
The Italian looked towards the two females awaiting him. one, the younger one, cut a fine figure even in bib and brace dungarees, even under a woollen polo necked jumper and a tied headscarf, even adorning wellington boots. She was indeed a rosy-faced beauty, his eyes gazed over Emily's nicely formed bosom that was pushing out beneath her jumper, noting how the dungarees emphasised her slim waist and pert bottom he wondered if she was the farmer's daughter.
Always being one for the ladies, upon setting eyes on Emily, Giuseppe smiled to his inner self and got the stirrings of an immediate erection. He felt as if he had hit the jackpot - but knew enough not to smile openly or he'd be walking straight back to the camp. It had been well over eighteen months since he'd seen a woman, never mind talked to one and even longer since he'd bedded one. So now faced with such an attractive vision of beauty - he definitely wanted to stay. Looking towards Gladice, hell he wouldn't even turn the farmers old lady down if she was up for it.
Being astute in these matters Guiseppe then noticed Emily's wedding band and was wondering where the two husbands to these women were, probably working out in the fields. The lance corporal accompanying Guiseppe didn't seem to register any of this and having introduced his prisoner to Emily just said he would be back to pick his charge up around 6pm. Emily noticed the big yellow circles on Guiseppe's uniform and immediately asked what she was supposed to do with him... The lance corporal informed Emily that he was to do whatever work she set him, and although he had volunteered to work, if the prisoner slacked or refused, she was to report it and they'd find someone else.
The next question Emily asked was "Does he speak English?"
Guiseppi replied for himself, "Yes."
The corporal spoke over him, "He does, and he says he has some farming experience."
Emily had grown up giving instructions to seasonal workers, she had been doing so for most of her life. As a youngster from the age of twelve she'd got used to working with and giving orders to men much older than herself and so didn't hesitate in handing him the pitchfork she'd been using and pointing him to the outbuilding.
"I need you to finish cleaning out the stable before putting fresh bedding down for the horses. Can you do that?"
Giuseppe smiled politely; he nodded that he understood, then taking the pitchfork he went to work. Emily stood with the lance corporal as they watched Guiseppi remove his tunic top and using the pitchfork began to put the old straw into a wooden wheelbarrow. She then asked the corporal what she should do if he tried to escape. The guard laughed and said he wouldn't, he then repeated that he'd be back by 6pm to take the prisoner back to camp... The guard then repeated that if the prisoner gave her any trouble, any trouble at all, she was to say and he wouldn't be brought back.
***
It was coming up to two and a half years since James had been around the farm for anything other than the odd weekend visit, and although she wouldn't say so, the sudden appearance of the solid swarthy Mediterranean looking handsome tall Italian POW immediately stirred up feelings she'd forgot she had. To paraphrase John Donne 'No woman is an Island'.
Emily couldn't help but bite her lip as she watched the muscled Italian go about his work, she felt an ache the likes she hadn't felt for a long time which was very unlike her. He was handsome, swarthy, dark hair, she liked his strong looking figure. It wasn't like her but she felt a real physical attraction, a physical attraction that left her chest feeling tight and her tummy knotted. She chided herself for thinking such thoughts and picking up another pitchfork she headed to another outbuilding - all the while, discretely keeping an eye on him, as much to look at him as to make sure she knew where he was.
An hour or so later and carrying a wicker hand basket and accompanied by her young son, Emily approached the stable. Looking into the dusty space she saw the sweat glistening Italian had removed his shirt and in his white short sleeved vest and braces was busy spreading out straw, was all but done. Beside the basket she also brought with her a canteen of water. The basket contained some bread and cheese, neither in short supply thanks to living on the farm. She looked at what he had done and was pleased, he seemed to know what he was doing.
Seeing that he was unaware of her presence she coughed to interrupt him. He turned. Emily smiled. "I don't suppose they gave you anything to eat to bring with you."
"No miss."
Emily shot back, "It's Mrs..." then realising she'd spoken a bit sharpish she repeated kindlier, "It's Mrs Jackson."
He politely smiled and walked towards the stable door, and her, to repeat "No - Mrs Jackson" and then holding his hand to his chest before holding it out he made to introduce himself as if to show he was friendly. "Giuseppe, Guiseppe Forlani, Sergeant."
Feeling the heat on her back Emily took a few steps into the stable to get out of the sunshine. When he offered her his hand, she was a little flustered but ignored his offered hand.
"Well..." Emily replied having regained her composure, "Guiseppe, after you've had your lunch, I need you to go down to the lower pasture", she pointed through the doorway in the direction of a field in the distance. "Take a spade and clean out the blocked culvert, you'll find some long waders in the tool barn" pointing to another building.
"Yes Miss... sorry, Yes Mrs Jackson?" he seemed confused as to how he should address her, but he wasn't.
As he hoped she helped him out and sighed. "Emily, my name is Emily."
That afternoon as he dug out the ditch, he heard Emily whistle and looking up from his work he saw the farmer's wife in the adjacent field. She was calling the cows, bringing them in for milking, he saw the cows begin to make their own way up the field towards the gate. Guiseppe also saw the toddler walking by his mother's side as toddlers do.
It was around 5pm when "Guiseppi" heard Emily call his name. When he got back to the farm Emily asked him how he had got along, as she did, she handed him a towel and pointed to the water pump telling him he could wash, reminding him the guard would soon be here to take him back to camp.
He told her the ditch had been cleared.
Emily smiled and thanked him and then made her way back into the farmhouse. Once inside she couldn't help but sneak a look out of the kitchen widow to watch the swarthy Italian as he washed in the evening sunshine, her fingers gripped the farmhouse sink as she admired his upper body. That night when the lance corporal returned; Guiseppi left with an apple inside his tunic pocket which Emily had taken from the Apple store, a benefit of living on a farm being she got to stash away some of the produce.
Then the two men left, one cycling, the other jogging behind, Guiseppe wondering why he hadn't seen any sign of the farmers.
That night Emily couldn't stop thinking of Giuseppe, all thoughts of George gone. She was restless and idly stroked her hand over her private area and kept picturing him as he washed. Emily hadn't masturbated in a long time but she began to rub her pubic mound as she thought of his broad sweaty shoulders, his muscular arms, his jet-black hair, his Italian accent - then she realised what she was doing and stopped touching herself, this wasn't like her. The next morning around 7.30 am, the same lance corporal arrived with his charge. Emily had already been working two and a half hours milking the cows. Guiseppe saw that the toddler was standing by the elderly woman. As the lance corporal left, Emily asked Guiseppe if he could handle a horse and cart. Guiseppe smiled and told her yes. Feeling guilty for her thoughts the night before she coldly told him to take the filled milk churns to the end of the farm lane along with the crate of eggs so it could be collected. He was to return with the empty churns that had been left the day before and then wash them out.
As he made his way down the lane walking the horse pulling the cart with the milk churns, Gladice approached Emily.
Gladice sighed. "If I was twenty years younger."
Emily looked at her, shocked. "Gladice, he's the enemy."
The older woman smiled, "Enemy or not, he's a man, and a handsome man at that..." She sighed, "But I suppose you could always find yourself a Yank from the airbase!"
Emily smiled and chuckled, "Yes I am sure that would go down well with James."
Gladice nudged her, "James isn't here."
When Guiseppe returned, the old lady came out of the farmhouse with a glass of fresh milk. "Here you are Guiseppe."
As he drank the milk, he thanked Gladice and as she took the glass back, she told him he'd find Emily by the pig stye. As the Italian approached from behind, he saw that Emily was busy feeding the sows. This time it was he who coughed to announce his presence. Emily turned and putting the bucket down with a smile she bid him good morning before pointing to the lower field where he had been working the day before and where the cows were now peacefully grazing. In her experienced way of giving instruction, she told him she'd noticed some fencing that was in need of repair and 'needed' him to secure any gaps. She'd long learnt it was easier to issue instructions to farmhands by saying what she needed them to do rather than by asking 'if they could'...
"Yes ma'am."
Emily smiled and replied that he'd find some wire and nails in the tool barn. She then told him that when he was finished, he was to come back and continue to help clear out the other outbuildings.
Later that evening as she watched Guiseppi leave, she saw that he was again trotting down the lane behind the lance corporal on his bicycle. An idea suddenly came to her. She made her way across the farmyard and into the old grain store and there it was, James's bicycle, the one he'd use to go into the village.
The following day Emily showed it to Guard and asked him if Guiseppe could use it to cycle to and from the camp. She explained it was her husband's but he was away fighting, well, like Guiseppe, he too was a POW.
Guiseppe overheard this and smiled to himself, that explained the absence of a farmer, now he knew where the husband was. He also reckoned there was no older farmer either.
The guard didn't mind as it meant he could get back to the camp quicker and it wouldn't take as long to bring the prisoner on a morning.
Over the rest of the week Emily watched Guiseppe, she soon saw he was a hard worker and seemed to know what he was doing, she was pleased. The following Sunday Emily went to church with Sam, she was in her Sunday finest as usual, but was pleasantly surprised to see Guiseppe in attendance. She was aware that since the arrival of the Italians some Italian POWs had been regular attendees to Sunday Mass but hadn't recognised that Guiseppe was one of them. After the service she went to say hello. Guiseppe immediately introduced her and young Sam to some of his fellow POW's. She didn't understand everything that was said as they chatted among themselves, perhaps it was a good thing she couldn't as they were wondering if she was any good in bed. Guiseppe told them to hold their tongues.
Over the following weeks Giuseppe showed Emily that he could turn his hand to anything she asked of him, he even volunteered to fix a few broken tiles on the farmhouse roof, precarious work to say the least. By this time, with the use of a bicycle, Guiseppe was being allowed to make his own way back to camp on an evening, a week or so later he arrived by himself. That was how it was all week apart from the Friday evening when the corporal would visit to check with Emily how he had been.
When Emily wrote her next letter to James, she told him she had managed to get a worker to help out on the farm, that he seemed reliable and hard working. She couldn't of course tell him the new farmhand was an Italian POW as it would have been censored.
Spring changed to Summer and some of Emily and Guiseppe's interactions had gradually turned into lengthy conversations. Emily became comfortable with knowing she found him attractive, telling herself that she had no intention of ever acting on it.
Then one day Emily came across him reading a letter from home. She was surprised and asked if it was from his wife. He volunteered that it was from his sister and then laughed that he could use a pen pal as all his sister wrote about was his family and the village... In his seductive Italian accent, "Nessuna parola di passione per scaldare l'anima"
He saw her perplexed expression, he smiled, "No words of passion to warm the soul."
Emily laughed and then asked, "Don't you have someone special?"
He folded the letter. "Yes..." then with a broad grin, "But they are too busy writing to their husbands."
She sighed and gave him a wry smile and took his words in good humour but admonished. "Oh Guiseppe."
What Emily didn't reveal as Guiseppe had lamented the lack of passion in the letters he received, was the sudden pang of guilt she felt about her own rather staid letters to James. She was of course glad to be in contact with James, the realisation that she may have lost him had made her realise she actually missed him, felt something for him, maybe even loved him after all... However, their correspondence did lack intimacy, their letters lacked passion.
The next time Emily put pen to paper to write to her husband she made a point of saying she missed him, not just that she missed him but missed him a lot, that she missed having him by her side and even missed the sound of his footsteps - and in a moment of mischief wrote that Kitty missed him too. She didn't see James's face when he read her letter but if she could she would have seen a big smile. That simple mention of 'Kitty' cheered his heart, he felt warm knowing that Emily missed him, but he was also overjoyed that his wife had referred to their nickname for her pussy - Kitty.
He responded by asking how 'Kitty' was managing now that 'Percy' was not there to take care of her.
She read his letter and smiled to herself; Percy was their playful nickname for his penis, she felt good, she actually pictured them making love, time had erased how bad their sex life had been. In her next letter Emily replied that Kitty was lonely but coping, but that she had to lend Kitty a hand every now and again.
James replied that knowing Percy he would probably be in need of a helping hand himself. He then asked if she and Kitty was behaving themselves. She wrote back, 'Of course we are behaving ourselves - 'And he and Percy had better be too'.
James replied, 'I don't have the opportunity to get into trouble.'
From then on, their exchanges were more loving and slightly more risqué which was something new for them, there was always at least some reference to Kitty and Percy.
On the farm, as Emily had become at ease around Guiseppe they had begun to sit together to have their lunch. Emily started to prepare one basket from which they would both eat. Sometimes they'd be sat on top of a wall, sometimes sitting with their backs to a wall in a sun trap or if the heat was too oppressive, in the shade, sometimes they'd sit in the pasture, sometimes on the bench by the side of the farmhouse, it didn't matter where because she felt comfortable sitting with him as they soaked in the sun. They began to converse as friends; he even began to teach Emily some Italian.
When Guiseppe spoke of home Emily was fascinated and would listen avidly. She liked to hear about his life before the war. He told Emily about the small town in Tuscany he came from, he told her how before the war he worked with horses for a local land owner who was married to an English woman and she had taught him English, he also told her of his parents and their smallholding. He told Emily about the olive groves and the mountains and the forests, the waterfalls and the lakes. He described what it was like in Spring and Summer, the colours of Autum and the snows of Winter and that that when the war was over, she should bring her family to visit, she would like it.
Emily was happy to see that Sam had taken to Guiseppe and that Guiseppe had taken to Sam, a man being around was good for Sam. What neither of them saw was how they would each steal glances at the other. Emily would gaze at Guiseppe, take deep breaths and bite her lip and often feeling short of breath would feel a pang - especially when he was shirtless. She was attracted to him. Guiseppe, for his part, had a much stronger longing for Emily, he missed not being with a woman, and loved it when Emily would wear a dress instead of overalls - this was usually if she was going to be cycling into the village. He would hope upon hope that in her dress she would stand with the sun behind her and so reveal her outlined silhouette, he would smile and admire her slender long legs, her trim figure, her breasts, her neck... When she did stand with the sun behind her, he did not know if she did this on purpose, he hoped she did, he told himself she did. Guiseppe would also admire Emily from behind, watching her as she went about her work, dungarees or dress - he'd admire her backside and the outline of her firm heavy looking breasts under her woollen jumpers, wishing he could walk up behind her to slide his arms around her slim waist and pull her to him, he longed to nuzzle her neck with his nose as he held her tight, to be able to breath in her scent.
He'd then adjust his erection as needs must.
With the harvest approaching Emily asked the camp guard accompanying Guiseppe if Giuseppe would be prepared to start working the weekends. The guard said he could see no reason why not, but would have to okay it with the prisoner and the camp commander.
At last, with an extra fuel ration, the farm tractor got to see the light of day, they both laughed as Emily gave Guiseppe lessons, he could drive a truck but had never driven a tractor, he learned fast.
Even with the tractor, the farm was still heavily reliant on horse drawn equipment. This was where Guiseppe shone again, taking some old horseshoes, he had fired up the small Blacksmiths kiln behind the barn and managed to hammer out some fresh, re-used shoes for the horses. Emily was well pleased.
Gladice would often wistfully remind Emily what a handsome man Guiseppe was, and with a giggle and a nudge 'While the cats away', only for Emily to shut her down.
Late July was hot and the heat unforgiving and there weren't enough hours in the day. The two of them were working from daybreak until it got dark and sometimes beyond. Working together didn't bother them, they would even drink from the same canteen of water, passing it between them as they wiped the sweat from their brows. The work was hard and Giuseppe found he was returning later and later to camp occasionally missing his supper. It was the lance corporal who brought word from the camp commander, suggesting 'that if Guiseppi could sleep at the farm, as was happening at other farms, then he needn't return to camp on an evening, at least not during the approaching harvest'.
Emily wasn't sure she wanted Guiseppe staying on the farm overnight. She wanted to trust Guiseppe with whom she had become friends, but she still harboured doubts. But then she had the trusty 12-bore shotgun, so she agreed saying he could stay above the stable. That evening she swept out the loft above the stable and got out some blankets and a towel and fixed up a camp bed with a small table and a fold up chair, along with a storm lantern, a wash basin, a chamber pot, which he would be able to empty in the farmyard WC on a morning, and a bucket to keep water for the wash basin. By the time she had finished it was a regular home from home, basic but cosy.
Now that he was sleeping above the stable, Guiseppe would eat his breakfasts and evening meals at the farmhouse kitchen table with Emily, Gladice and Sam. Rabbit stew or Corned Beef Ash or Game Pie was usually the order of the day, far better than the food at the camp.
After his evening meal he would spend the evening in the farmhouse with Emily, Sam and Gladice playing board games. Then after Sam was safely tucked up in bed, the three adults would play cards while listening to the radio. The more time he'd spent with Emily the stronger his need for her grew, but it had become more than that, he really liked her, indeed she was the type of woman he thought he would like as a wife when or if he settled down, feisty, attractive, compassionate, and fun.
To get closer to Emily, indeed to seduce Emily, his intention was still to bed the English woman, Guiseppe knew he'd had to overcome her cautious wariness, what with her being alone and her husband a POW somewhere in Germany. So Guiseppe continued to teach Emily Italian, making sure to involve Gladice as well. To improve and practice her skills, Emily would try to give Guiseppe his work instructions in Italian.
The following Saturday evening, as they played cards, Guiseppe asked Emily if he could accompany her and young Sam to Sunday Mass. She said yes, she saw no reason why not. By now people in the village knew Emily had an Italian POW working on the farm, some even knew it was Guiseppe. So, Sunday morning, when she and Sam walked into Church followed by the handsome Italian no one were surprised. It was as Guiseppe made to go sit with his comrades as he had always done that a few eyebrows were raised; this was when Emily took a hold of the sleeve of Guiseppe's tunic to indicate he should sit with her and Sam, a few were surprised by this knowing James was a POW in Germany, but nothing was said.
Part Two to Follow
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