Q by Luther Blissett (poetry books to read txt) 📕

Venice, 10th July 1545

Donna Demetra’s perfume is sweet and subtle, a more or less intense essence of lily-of-the-valley that gives a clue to her presence, or to her passage through the rooms of the building.

She’s sitting at the desk in her ante-chamber, dividing up the month’s earnings with paper and pen.

‘Come in, Don Ludovico, make yourself comfortable over here.’

Her grey-green eyes, inviting you to speak, and the few white hairs that have wilfully escaped her hair-dye, are the only marks that forty years of life have left on the face of this woman from Corfu, the daughter of a Venetian captain and a Greek woman. Her body still emanates a youthful energy.

‘You wanted to talk to me, donna Demetra?’

‘That’s right, she answers with an expert smile.’ But sit down, please.’

Distant memories of university help me to understand her mixture of German, Latin and Greek, a hotchpotch that seems to be the lingua franca to which the merchants of this city have adapted: the language of business, of spices, of fabrics and porcelain.

There is something magical, ancient and fascinating about the brilliance of her eyes. They shine with the intelligence of a woman well versed in the ways of the world, that many-faceted, multicoloured world that has made Venice an obligatory stopping-off point.

‘Don Ludovico, I must confess a certain embarrassment.’

The phrase is studied, false in its content and not at all in its tone; it heralds the spontaneity that I am expecting.

Donna Demetra folds her hands in her lap: ‘You are German, and I know that in your parts it is not customary, in fact it is rather rare, for a woman to talk business with a man.’

I reassure her: ‘If that’s the reason for your embarrassment, have no fear. My experiences have taught me that women’s genuine practical sense is far preferable to men’s narrow-minded materialism.’

Her smile broadens: ‘I thought I was doing you a favour by acting na�ve: men usually take special pleasure in the idea that they can understand a woman’s mind, and look after the poor thing from the great heights of their own experience. To deal with you men as equals one has to fake disorientation and inferiority, or else risk giving offence by injuring your vulnerable pride.’

I nod, letting my eye slip to her olive-skinned neck and her ample decolletage.

‘So let’s leave pride to the inept, and infringe the rule just this once.’

That’s what she wanted to hear. ‘I’d like to go into business with you, and turn this place into the most exclusive and most sought-after house of love in the whole of Venice. I have a few ideas, by the way, and you have the money to put them into action.’

I shift in my chair, and rest my cheek on one hand. ‘A singular suggestion, Donna Demetra, the guest becoming a brothel-keeper.’

She raises a hand, bidding me to let her go on. ‘I have no complaints about the way things are going at the moment. But experience tells me that a few modifications might increase the volume of business in the house by a considerable amount.’

Amused, I contain my surprise: there isn’t a woman between the Rhine and the Oder who could talk so naturally about subjects of this kind.

‘At present things work as follows: men accost the girls on the street, or else they come here, they walk down the passage that runs between the girls’ divans, they sit down next to the one they like best, they ask her to join them and when they decide to go they pay for room and service. What do men like about this arrangement?’

She waits for a reply, and I swiftly collect my thoughts in order to save face: ‘A lot of things, I’d say, judging by their fondness for it. First of all the fact that the ritual seems so natural.’

Exactly. As I’m always telling the girls, don’t give a sense of being at work, and when they invite you to join them, get up as though they’d asked you to dance… So what we need to do is make things even more natural. The customer should have the sense of having seduced the girl he fancies. There should be a very luxurious tavern on the ground floor, with a selection of excellent wines and food. A place where a wealthy merchant would want to go, even if only to eat.’

‘Slow down, slow down, Donna Demetra, I can feel my head spinning already.’

She smiles and goes on: ‘Think of it like this: at a given time, the girls come into the room. Some of them sit down, some serve at table, some go to the wine-counter. The boldest customers invite them to sit at their table, the more timid ones ask a waitress to act as intermediary.’

Donna Demetra gets up slowly, and I’m sure she does so in a way deliberately designed to give me a new and fleeting view of her cleavage. She stands behind me and starts massaging my neck with the tips of her fingers. I shiver, and heave a sigh.

‘I think, don Ludovico, that the act of conquering a woman over dinner, even if it’s only a pretence, is much more pleasurable than doing the same thing on a couch in a corridor. Or am I mistaken?’

‘You’re quite right…’

‘My second suggestion is that we extend the circle of girls. About fifteen regulars, and another fifteen who turn up when they feel like it, when they need money, when they feel like it. The greater the turnover the greater the illusion the regular clients will have that they aren’t dealing with working girls, and that when they come here they’ll have the chance of taking to bed a girl that they wouldn’t have the courage to approach elsewhere.’

The massage dissolves the tension along my neck and spine: these are the most skilled hands that have ever touched me.

‘Why do you think I might be interested in a place like this?’

Her hair brushes my ear: ‘If a foreigner comes to Venice it’s because he’s on business… either that or because he wants to hide. To the merchant I propose a business deal. To the fugitive I propose an activity that guarantees discretion and no interference from the authorities.’

I nod: ‘I’ve been both. But I’ll tell you that what I’m most interested in right now is information.’

She laughs brightly, like a little girl. ‘Then, my lord, allow experience to speak for me: in bed, men reveal things they wouldn’t even mention in the confessional. I know more about the Doge’s� affairs than his own counsellors do.’

This woman never ceases to astound me.

‘You know, donna Demetra, I think I’ll make your fortune. Before you know it you’ll be the Vittoria Colonna of the Republic of Venice.’

She slips her arms across my chest and brings her mouth close to my ear. ‘With the difference, don Ludovico, that Vittoria Colonna does the same job as I do and won’t admit it. She comes on like a great seductress and pretends not to know what artists like Michelangelo expect from her.’

‘Then let’s just say that you’re going to be rich.’

‘And so are you. And perhaps you’ll tell me a bit more about what you’ve come here to do. But I’d advise you to get a move on, if you want to have the pleasure of telling a woman something that her intuition hasn’t yet suggested to her.’