An Arrangement with The Family

The nerve of him! Setting up a deal with a strange man to select one of us to be his wife! I stomp down the street, barely paying attention to where I'm going.

I practically run over someone on the street.

"Whoa, Isabella!"

I look up to see Nunzio, one of my oldest friends.

"What's wrong, Isabella?"

"Oh nothing. Everything!" I try to push on through him.

"Whoa. Something is wrong. You let me buy your a coffee, no?"

"No, I can't sit." Then I pause. Maybe talking about it will make me feel better. "Well, okay I guess."

Soon we are seated at an outdoor cafe with two coffees in front of us. Nunzio is a good friend. Really one of the first friends I made when I came to America. We played in the street with all the kids and he always looked out for me. He's two years older than me. I may not be interested in marriage right now, but I'm no dummy. Nunzio will ask me to marry him someday, once he gets his courage up. Would I say yes? I don't know. I don't feel anything special with him. He is a great friend, to be sure, but I thought you got funny feelings in your tummy when you start falling in love. I feel none of that with Nunzio.

"So what's the problem?" He reaches out to touch my hand, but stops just short of doing so.

"It's my father. He's. Uh, he's making me do something I don't want to."

"Oh. It can't be all that bad. What is he making you do?"

"He's putting me on display to be picked for marriage!"

"What? He's arranging a marriage?" The look on his face is a mixture of appallment and disappointment.

"Well, not exactly. He's inviting some guy over to our house to pick from the three daughters for marriage. I know, I know, you don't have to say it. I would be the last to be picked. I'm not as good looking as my sisters."

"I wasn't going to say that." He nervously grabs his coffee and takes a sip.

"Well, it's the principle, Nunzio. I have plans in life. My life! Not my fathers, but mine."

Somewhat quietly Nunzio asks, "So you don't want to be married?"

"What? Oh. Yeah, I mean someday. But not right now and I want to choose who I marry. I am not a choice piece of fruit my father can sell off to whomever passes by."

"A spiky piece of fruit, I'd day. Like those pineapples I've heard about from Hawaii." Nunzio can always make me laugh.

"Stop making me laugh Nunzio. This is serious." Still, laughing a bit makes me feel better.

"I know. So what are you going to do?"

I sigh. "I guess I'll be nice and polite, but I'm not going to dress myself like Angelina or puff up my breasts like Madonna. I'll just be me. He's sure to pick one of them anyway."

Chapter 7 (Roberto)

Sunday evening rolls around and I knock on the door at 5:58. I'm not nervous exactly. More excited. Still, I'm sweating a bit.

Monteleone opens the door.

"Mr. Raffaelli, please come into my home."

"Roberto. Please call me Roberto."

"Ah yes. Right. Yes, Roberto. Let me get your hat and coat for you."

He brings me into the dining area and his family is lined up in what I guess is age order.

"Oh course, this is my brother Arturo, whom you know. His wife Palmina. His sons Arturo, Jr., Dominick, Gennaro, and Geno. And this is my wife Verona."

I step forward and take her hand and lightly kiss the back of it. "Pleasure, madam." She is a sturdy woman, sweating from being in the kitchen. A good Italian wife I'd say.

"And these are my sons." He skips over his daughters for the moment. "Angelo, Jr., Leonardo, and Mario." Mario is no more than thirteen. Good looking boys even if they seem to take after their father in height.

"And these are my daughters. First is Angelina, whom you met at the store." I take her hand and kiss it, letting my lips linger for a second or two. She is as stunning as I remember. She has on a black dress on that hugs her nice curves and her hair is impeccable. An almost perfect creature. I hope the stirring in my pants is not noticeable.

"And next is Madonna." Again I take her hand and kiss it. "Charmed." She is maybe not quite as pretty as her sister, but any loss of beauty in her face the good Lord saw fit to give to her chest. Her breasts are almost bulging out of the tight dress she is wearing.

"And lastly this is Isabella." What an interesting thing she is. So tiny. I'm nearly a foot taller than her and have to bend down to kiss her hand, which she pulls back from my lips the moment they touch the back of her hand. She certainly does not dress like her sisters. She has on a plain black dress, something one might wear to work at a store. She has no makeup on, again unlike her sisters. And her hair. Oh her hair. It's a big mass of thick blackness atop her tiny head. She clearly has decided to not go out of her way to impress me.

We all sit and food starts to be passed.

"So Roberto, tell us about your family," the mother asks.

"Well, family is very important to me. We came to America about 15 years ago from Sicily, like so many others. I have 2 brothers and 3 sisters. I work for my father. He is a great man."

"And what do you do?" comes the question from the eldest daughter.

"Oh, we do many things. We are in the import business. We bring in fine olive oil and other goods from the old country. Plus, we help with many things for a business like the one your father and uncle run."

"Interesting. And you like the work?" she follows up.

"I do. It's always something that comes up that needs dealing with. My father trusts me for a lot. Someday, I will take over the family business."

The smile that overtakes Angelina face is hard to miss.

"And Angelo, please tell me more about your daughters."

"Ah, yes. Well, they make a father proud, no? Let's see, well, Angelina is my oldest. She is very sweet and is the pride and joy of me and her mama. Madonna here is lovely as well. She will make someone a very fine wife who will give many, many children." At that Madonna blushes, but it is plain to see it's no lie. In addition to her large tits, her hips are nice and wide, perfect for child bearing.

"And your youngest?" I ask as I nod over to the little one with the crazy black hair. This little one might have trouble in child birth, she is so tiny. No, I don't think this one is suitable for me.

"Oh, yes. This is Isabella. She is, well, she is a hard little worker. She helps me so much in the store. In fact, she could maybe even run it if she wanted to."

"But I don't want to," the tiny girl pipes in.

"Ah yes, and she has a mind of her own." Her father frowns at her and continues in a lower voice, "And a tongue to match."

Isabella speaks up. "And you, Mr. Raffaelli, what qualifications do you bring to this, uh, little plan you and my father have cooked up?" Her cheeks redden up as she asks her question. This one is a little tiger, for sure.

Her father jumps in, "Isabella, mind your tongue."

"No." I stop him. "That is okay. Well, first and foremost, I will provide greatly for my wife and our family. She would never have to worry about having anything she ever wanted." Angelina and Madonna look at each other and giggle, but Isabella just stares at me with piercing eyes waiting for me to continue.

"And I value family above all else. I'm fiercely loyal and remember those you have been loyal to me."

"And what do you think about the role of women?" Isabella continues her questioning of me. Her father has a look of horror on his face.

"Role? I don't understand what you mean."

"I mean, sir, do you think women should just be at home and have babies?"

"Well, of course. That is what they are suited for."

If she was red in the face before, she's positively crimson now. "Suited for? Suited for?"

Why is it that the madder she gets, the more pretty she becomes? "Well, yes. So what do you think a woman is suited for?"

"Well, she can be suited for a great many things, not just having babies."

"For instance?"

"Like teaching maybe. Or art. Or even business."

"A woman running a business?" I try not to look too incredulous as I say it, but, come on, who is this girl?

"Yes. A woman. Surely, I don't need to explain what a woman is to you?" She's barely concealing the contempt beneath her voice. And why does that make me even more interested in her?

"Isabella!" her father calls out.

"Go ahead, Isabella, enlighten me. What do you see as the role of a woman?"

"Well, in regards to the world, I think that women can do almost anything a man can." My eyebrow raises a bit. "In the realm of marriage, I think a woman should be equal to her husband." I see her father put his palm to his forehead.

"Actually, Isabella, I agree with you. Surely, a man and a woman should have different roles, but they are equally important. And yes I, too, agree a woman should consider herself equal to her husband."

I believe I accomplished a feat that I didn't think was possible: I managed to leave Isabella speechless.

After many tense seconds, she says, "Well, okay then."

Did I actually see a slight smile?

The rest of the dinner was pleasant if less interesting than my exchange with Isabella. Angelina made "come get me" eyes for the rest of the dinner, which, to be honest, was kind of tiring by the end of the meal. After many thanks and pleasantries, I went home full in my stomach with many things to ponder in my head.

Chapter 8 (Isabella)

Oh, that infuriating man! Strolling into our house like he is perusing our fresh produce. Sure, he was more gentlemanly than I expected, but still.

My sisters, of course, are fawning over Roberto. And I can't disagree that he is a handsome man. But there's more to a husband than how he looks! I can tell you one thing, I'm not going to marry some guy who just wants me to lie on my back and give him babies.

But, given all that, why am I feeling like I was that day in the store room? My face is hot and there's a knot in my stomach. I've never had a man make me feel like this before. I can't quite explain it.

I struggle to calm down in order to sleep that night. I blame my father and that man for that!

The next morning, I feel pretty invigorated as I start my work. Partway through the day, Nunzio comes strolling up.

"Hey, Isabella, how are you?"

"Pretty good, Nunzio. How are you?"

"Good. So, how was your show dinner?" He asks with a grin.

"Nunz, why do you like to tease me?"

"Because it's fun, Bella. Come on, how was it?"

"It was okay I guess."

"Just okay? Did Angelina have him eating out of her hand?"

"Oh, she was doing her normal thing for sure. I'm sure he is interested in her."

"That's good," Nunzio mumbles.

"Yeah. That's good," I agree with him. But then why am I feeling a bit jealous of my sister?

"So will you have to go out on a date with him?"

"Um, let's hope not. I'm sure Angelina will have him in her trap soon."

We both laugh at that and Nunzio is on his way. I spend the rest of the day trying to not think about Roberto Raffaelli.

Three days later and I'm carrying a basket of potatoes to place outside on the street. It's a heavy basket, but I've carried baskets this heavy before. I back out of the door and hear, "Let me help you." A big hand reaches for the handle on the basket.

"It's fine, I've got it." I pull the basket away and in the process, I trip over the man's feet, lose control of the basket, and I follow the potatoes to the ground.

"Oh, I'm so sorry. Let me help you up." I look up and recognize Roberto. His hand remains extended and I take it, allowing him to pull me to my feet. He is so strong that I feel as though I fly up to my feet.

"You know I had it completely under control. Now look at the mess you made."

"I'm sorry," he says and instantly he's on his knees picking up the potatoes and putting them back in the basket. His hands are so big he can pick up two or three at time in one hand. "I only wanted to help."

"Well, I don't really need your help."

He picks up the last few potatoes and places them in the basket. "Well excuse me, miss, for trying to help out a fellow human being." He turns on his heels and heads into the store.

Why am I so nasty to this man? He's just trying to be nice and it was an accident that he knocked me over. Dammit, Isabella, your tongue and temper will get you in trouble some day. Why can't you just be polite like other young ladies? I'll probably end up unmarried even if I want to get married at this rate!

I manage to sneak around Roberto as he is talking to my uncle and father and I steal into the store room so that I don't have to talk to him again.

Chapter 9 (Roberto)

Friday night I'm at the Monteleone household at 6 sharp, ready to take Angelina out for dinner and a show. She's stunning of course. If looks could kill, I'd be dead where I stand.

The evening is fine, I guess, but I find that Angelina has very little interesting to say. My mind wanders at different times in the evening to thinking of her little sister and how much more interesting it would be if I was out with her. Sure, I'd like nothing more than to strip Angelina of her clothes and fuck her like there's no tomorrow, but these women aren't those sort of women.

Unfortunately, I find out tonight that Angelina isn't someone I'd be interested in marrying either. Sure, I could marry her if I was desperate, but I don't think I'm there just yet.

As I drop her off, I say, "I look forward to the family dinner on Sunday." What I didn't tell her was that I was more interested in seeing her sister than her.

I find myself whistling as I go up the steps to the Monteleone household on Sunday evening. Once again, Angelina is dressed impeccably and Madonna is not far behind her. Isabella might look a little better, but, clearly she is not putting on airs for me. I'd say her hair is a bit nicer. At least it looks like she washed or more likely her mother forced her to wash her hair today. I would say her natural beauty is not that of either of her older sisters, but she is not ugly by any stretch.

The conversation once again gets lively when I engage Isabella.

"So Isabella, what do you think of Tammany Hall?" If this girl wants to be equal to men, then surely she will know about some of the politics of NYC.

"Well, Roberto, not being directly involved in politics..." I sit back with a smirk on my face, waiting for her to fall.

She stops momentarily as she catches the look on my face. "As I was saying, I'm not directly involved with politics, but I think Tammany Hall has been mostly a disgraceful organization that has been corrupt at many levels throughout most of its history. However, there can be no doubt that under Murphy's leadership, they've been very efficient." She looks at me somewhat triumphantly.

"Well said, Isabella. But you failed to mention how they haven't been good for most Italians, especially the working class."

"I agree with that, but until someone can challenge them or the Republicans get their act together, most of us don't have much of a choice, do we?"

Damn this girl. She is sharp as a tack and well spoken too. And I love the way her cheeks redden when she starts to argue. Makes her about 10 times more pretty.

On the way home that night, I pretty much know that I want to pursue Isabella, but in not wanting to offend Angelo, I decide that next week I should take Madonna out for a date. Maybe she'll surprise me. And I suppose I won't mind staring at those huge tits all night long.

Friday night's date with Madonna does turn out the way I expected. She's not very interesting. While Angelina is shallow and vain, Madonna is more empty headed. Sure, a nice enough girl in the end. I'm sure she would make a good wife to someone. Just not to me.

At this point, I can't wait for my date with Isabella. I go to set it up with Angelo during the next week.

As I walk in the store, I'm happy to see that Isabella is working. Her father must be in the back. She is on a step stool, trying to reach an upper shelf and failing. She is so tiny. My goodness, she is cute. Maybe not as sexy as her sisters, but her tiny little body has my stomach doing flips.

I come up behind her and place my hands on her waist. "Here, let me help you reach that shelf." Without waiting for permission, I squeeze my hands tight to her body and lift her an additional 6 inches. Damn, she is so light. My hands nearly touch each other as her waist is so tiny. It's difficult to keep my thoughts pure in this moment, but after she places the can up on the shelf, I bring her to the ground.

Flustered, she says, "I could have reached it without your help you know."

"No you wouldn't have." She was at least 2-3 inches away from reaching it. But giving her pride an out I follow up with, "Well, I'm sorry I assumed incorrectly and helped you then. I know you don't need a man's help."

"Uggh, that's not what I meant."

"What did you mean then?" I know I shouldn't take pleasure in teasing her so, but she is so cute and sexy when she gets worked up.

She looks at me, get redder in the face, contemplating what to say. Instead of saying anything, she straightens her dress and marches to the back room. "Father, Roberto is here to see you."

Hot damn this Isabella is working me up. Our verbal wrestling is so invigorating. I can't help but think of how invigorating wrestling with her in the bedroom would be.

I set about making arrangements for my next date with a Monteleone daughter.

Chapter 10 (Isabella)

"What?" Angelina looks genuinely surprised. I'm not sure I should laugh or be afraid of the expression on Angelina's face.

"How could Roberto be interested in you? I mean, you hardly ever even comb your hair."

I shrug. "Don't worry, it's not like he really likes me. I think he's just being polite. First it was you then Madonna and now me. He is just showing father respect. I'm sure he'll dump me for you next week."

"Well, he better." Angelina huffs as she looks at her nails. "You know, I've put a lot of time looking good for him. I'd hate to have it go to waste."

Later that night, when I have a moment to myself, I wonder if he really might like me. I certainly like him better than I did a few weeks ago. And the feeling he gave me today when he lifted me up to the shelf? Well, it's hard to describe, but it's like my stomach turned upside down. And the way his hands felt on my waist. They were so strong and big. Damn, they almost went all the way around me. When he did that, it not only affected my stomach, but I got a warming sensation all the way down to my groin. I could feel a wetness in my undergarments, too. I'd never felt that way before with a boy. I mean, I guess Nunzio is handsome in his own way, but he's never made me feel the way Roberto did today. Maybe it's because Roberto is a fully grown man and Nunzio is still kind of a boy.

I will do my best to be polite. It's just one evening. I will just get through it the best I can, then he can move on to Angelina or Madonna. I know I'm not as interesting to men as they are.

Around 3 o'clock on Friday, my mother and both sisters come down to the store. "Come on honey," Angelina says. "We've got to get you cleaned up."

"I'm fine," I try to say.

They're not having it. My mother grabs me by the shoulders and looks at my face and hair. "No sweetheart, you are not fine." Great, even my mother thinks I'm a mess.

I get dragged upstairs. After a grueling sponge bath and much pulling, combing, and prodding, I look cleaner and neater than I have in a while. Angelina is being nicer to me than I expected she would be. I don't think she feels threatened by me at all.

"Don't make me up like you, Angelina. Mother, please, would you do my makeup?"

"Sure, dear. I make you like nice. Like the pretty girl you are."

A girl only a mother could love. Still, she does make me feel prettier than normal. Is that part of my reason for being against this whole thing? I know I'm not as pretty as my sisters so I'm trying to not be chosen in order to not have to deal with the rejection?