Summer
-1-
Summer
The heat hung over the ground, and the birds and the bees had spread out, some in hives, some under the thickest shade of the bushes above the yard.
It was about 12 o'clock and it was unbearably hot, the temperature in an hour or two would hit at least 40 degrees in the shade.
July, the month of heat and sea, crossed Hannah's mind as she washed the French windows of the pleasant white house perched on a cliff above the sea, quite close to the caravans.
The caravans themselves were located further down, in irregular lines and yet close to the set. The seagulls flew over the caravans and more precisely over the rubbish bins and occasionally squawked something in the language of the birds.
On the lower side of the house was the sea, on the upper side there was a rocky eminence covered with plants of the local flora, and in all this blur one created the illusion that he was flying in the clouds like a great white ship with a roof.
Hannah frowned at the sun and slightly envied the man with the megaphone AND HAT in the distance below her.
More people in straw hats, in hats with visors, or simply with scarves wrapped around their heads, were frolicking around, and it was as if there was nothing on earth for them but their work. They didn't notice the heat, the sun, they didn't notice the sea, let alone the young woman who was cleaning the house up on the hill.
She had forgotten to put on a hat, as well as she had forgotten about the heat after last night's scandal that took place between the employer and the people from the caravans. They were actually on the same side, and it wasn't made very clear exactly why they were at odds, but it did get heated to the point where the police were called in to quell the passions.
A sun bee buzzed around the face and Hannah instinctively raised her hand to shoo it away. The bee hit the glass cleaner bottle, hummed indignantly, and lunged at the girl's hair. Trapped in the soft brown hair, the buzzing went from humming to panicked pushing and tangling in the hair. Hannah grunted a little, she couldn't even shout - only a grunt came out of her open mouth, she started jumping, waving her hands and hitting her head. The bee found its way out anyway, buzzed once more and then flew on its next route.
While jumping, Hannah had torn one strap of her blue worn-out dress, and now it hung like a frayed tongue over the girl's full white breast, and she fastened it with her hand. The detergent had spilled over the dress and the torn shoulder strap plus the wet front made the owner's left breast almost visible and with a prominent popped nipple. Apparently she wasn't wearing a bra.
Giulio watched with mild astonishment and derision the whole spectacle with the bee, Hannah and the detergent in her hands on the other side of the windows. The Orchestra of the Hangover was playing in his head, but the conductor Headache seemed to be slowly taking his leave and leaving the podium.
" That's good", Giulio thought. "Even without using pills".
The windows themselves were half mirrored and it was hard to see from the outside what was going on inside. In addition, there were numerous pots of various green flowers inside, which further limited visibility. The sun was also reflected directly in the windows and they shone like gold. This girl must have some mental issues, Giulio thought with a sneer. "But she is very beautiful." The second thought sort of rushed past the first and didn't leave much of a mark, just a slight surprise. Giulio didn't usually find people beautiful. He didn't love more than two or three people in the world, and he didn't like almost anyone, let alone take a liking to unfamiliar staff. No. He wasn't that type of person. Besides, his hungover brain didn't delve into so many thoughts this 'morning'.
A little noise behind him, and he turned to see the star of the production being filmed on the set below and the renter of the villa they were currently in come in a dancing step from across the room.
He made it to the drinks bar, and even though it was 12 noon, like any self-respecting star, he made the Most Beautiful Margaritas Known to Mankind in under five minutes. Or so Hugh himself called them in his mind.
He still didn't notice the girl.
Without asking, he handed one of the cocktails to Giulio and gestured playfully at the caravans below. He said in English with a pleasant Cockney accent:
"Well, my Italian friend! How did you sleep, I see that you are the only one awake of my guests! By the way - try a margarita cocktail for breakfast, I promise within two hours all the problems in the world disappear with my margaritas! "
Giulio looked at him, took the cocktail handed to him and with a smile answered again in English:
"Breakfast for champions, isn't it, Hugh!"
" I'm so hot that nothing but alcoholic cocktails could go down my throat for the next two - to eight - hours" - joked the older man.
The girl on the other side of the window continued to clean the windows as if crooked - on the left she had tied the strap of the dress in a knot.
Her front was still wet and her breasts were still clearly visible underneath, though probably in five to ten minutes at the most everything would be dry and invisible because of the damned heat, Giulio thought.
Little did she know that she was currently competing against Miss Wet T-Shirt.
The two men looked askance at each other, then both at the same time looked at Hannah, who was unwillingly pressing her chest against the glass while her hands were with the rag up, but she never understood what was even happening on the other side of the window. The sight sent shivers down the Italian's lap. He shuffled his feet absentmindedly.
"My cleaning lady is particularly sexy today, don't you think? "- Hugh said thoughtfully. His face had a strange expression that Giulio couldn't read.
"I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about. I'm off to work, sorry, I'll leave you alone with the cocktails, though I'd start if it wasn't for work" - Giulio laughed, showing off dazzling white teeth, then turned and walked out of the room with a slight sway of his hips.
His beautiful feline gait, by the way, had won him more than one audition in these international productions.
His height was also enviable, but in fact the difference between the Italian and the Englishman was only a few centimeters in favor of the Italian. For a man of his height, he really moved gracefully.
"Eh – sighed Hugh and muttered to himself – Italians! I don't know if you should love them, hate them, make them margaritas or just ignore them! And they don't know about cocktails, either. Well, on second thought, a Sprits Aperol was ok".
Giulio was walking down the hallway of the house towards the outside stairs, in ten minutes he had to be on the set getting ready for makeup.
Still, he wasn't thinking about the movie, the cleaner's body was in front of his eyes. He shook his head to banish the annoying (actually – not so annoying?!) thought and pointed all of his 190 centimeters outside.
