Extravagantly dressed in a froth of silk, she sat fuming on a simple blanket surrounded by a carpet of bluebells that rippled in the breeze. There was the suspicion of a green haze around the bare branches of the surrounding trees, bearing the budding promise of summer's luxuriant foliage.
It would do her good to get out away from the Opera House, he'd said. She needed a change of air, he'd said. He would arrange it all, he'd said. Oh, but what was it? she'd wondered. He wouldn't say. It was to be a surprise.
So she made sure she would look her best. After all, she must not disappoint her admirers. They expected her to be magnificent, dazzling. Fortunately, the milliner had just delivered the most delicious confection of lace and silk flowers, that went perfectly with her best summer silk in daffodil yellow. Smiling at herself in the hall mirror, she had noted with satisfaction how the warm tones of her dress and hat brought out the copper lights in her hair and the green in her eyes.
And here she was. Sitting on the ground. In a quiet wood. With only the flowers and trees to see her. Well, she should have realized he wasn't taking her for a leisurely drive along the boulevards when she saw the closed carriage instead the open landaulet they used for their Sunday strolls. His choice of clothes had puzzled her, too. He was wearing a simple jacket, with only a coarse linen shirt underneath, and a coloured handkerchief carelessly knotted around his neck. Not at all in his usual elegant style. Also, his hair fell in thick curls over his forehead, instead of being neatly pomaded down. He had looked so young and carefree, with a mischievous sparkle in his eyes. It made her quite nervous for a while, he felt almost like a stranger.
On an impulse he'd stopped the carriage to buy a bunch of violets from a street seller. With a graceful bow and sunny smile he'd presented the simple flowers to her with a flourish, as if they were the most splendid bouquet of hothouse lilies and damask roses. At any other time, she would have tossed such a poor offering aside without a second thought, but now, melting in the warmth of his smile and of his caressing eyes she tucked the cheap little posy into her dress. But her good humour gradually evaporated as they left the surroundings familiar to her, and by the time they arrived at their destination, she was both disappointed and angry.
Blissfully unaware of Carlotta's thunderous mood, Piangi talked happily as he busied himself with the picnic arrangements. "Ah, what a beautiful day! What a delight to get away from all the dust and noise! Is this not a divine spot! I saw it last year. The perfect place for a spring excursion, I thought to myself. Feel the kiss of the sun on your cheek, my dear."
Carlotta snapped open her parasol and held it up to shade her face. "The ground is damp," she sniffed, pulling out a mirror from her reticule.
"Fear not! The blanket is thick and waterproof on the back. A great improvement on those fiddling little mackintosh squares," Piangi reassured her. "Just a few more details to sort out, then we can get down to business."
He bustled around for a little while, and then took off his jacket before sitting down. He loosened the handkerchief around his strong neck with a contented sigh. Rolling up his shirtsleeves he flexed his muscular arms as he stretched them out in front of him.
Then he spoke, passion thickening his voice, "Now my little bird, I'm not going to keep you waiting any longer. Such creamy flesh, and those tempting plump breasts! No more fluttering your wings, now. You cannot escape me any longer."
Carlotta cooed, "Oh, that perfect nose! Your eyes are like stars set in the dark velvet of the sky."
"Ah, that tender curve of your luscious thighs. Irresistible!"
Carlotta spoke almost dreamingly, " That voice would bring down the angels of heaven to earth. Your rivals tear their hair in jealousy."
"Your velvet skin is so smooth against my lips, and the thought of your sweet flesh makes my mouth water," continued Piangi.
A light breeze rustled the branches, and the chorus of birds was effectively silenced by sharp tones from the diva. "Eh, Ubaldo! Enough! When are you going to stop serenading your food and pay some attention to ME?" she demanded petulantly.
Tossing away a chicken bone and wiping the peach juice from his chin with a large napkin, Piangi replied mildly, "As soon as you put that mirror down and stop making speeches of admiration to yourself, oh prima donna of my heart."
Carlotta pouted, but slipped her little mirror back into the reticule.
Piangi eyed her consideringly.
She sat disconsolate in the sea of bluebells, wilting slightly in her golden silk, her face enchantingly framed by her new hat.
His surprise was not a success. She missed her audience. Ah, well, he'd better start making amends.
"I have waited a year to see you in this setting, jewel of my heart."
"What? On the ground? In a wood?" she snapped.
Aha, the wind didn't blow in that direction, he'd better change his tack, Piangi decided. "That is a most becoming hat, my dear."
Silence.
"But it has one great fault…"
She looked questioningly at him, as he moved closer.
"It is very much in the way when I want to kiss you. May I take it off?"
Men! Carlotta thought to herself. How absurd they were. If they weren't thinking of their dinner, they were thinking of taking your clothes off. But then again, that wasn't such a bad thing, she decided when she saw the glow in Ubaldo's eyes, and felt an answering spark within herself.
Gracefully, she adjusted her supple curves to the fullness of Piangi's body, and held up her face to his as he put his arms around her.
Gently he rubbed his nose against the side of her cheek and neck, taking in the scent of her powder and the bunch of violets between her breasts. She felt his hot breath on her ear as he whispered, "You are more intoxicating than wine, I am always hungry for you, my delicious temptress."
Feeling breathless, and not just because of the strong arms squeezing her, Carlotta smiled as her hands explored underneath his shirt. Nuzzling the fur of his broad chest, she murmured, "May you never lose your appetite, my big, hungry man."
Author's note: I like to think that Piangi was inspired by the painting by Manet, "Luncheon on the grass".
A tip of the hat to StefanieBean, for opening my eyes to the possibilities of the Carlotta-Piangi pairing, in her "Diva and the Bear". If you liked my story, I think you would enjoy hers. It's posted here, at ffn.
