Bad Invisible Teachers Read online

  Chapter 1.

  The great glass door that served as wall and window leaned out on a similar building, opposite which reflected in turn on its surface it nearly polishes the crystalline outline of another identical, adjacent to another, and to another anchor. A forest of thirty floors.

  Hidden among the leafy branches of glass and cement, surrounded by the chirruping of telephones and by the frinire of printers, a head office spoke. And another person, for the time being, he/she listened.

  «Because he/she sees, Miss.»

  You/he/she had repeated him about ten times, as if it served him to take breath and to leave again, risking himself/herself/itself in managerial soliloquys with farcitura esterofila: key account, sales engenieer, imprinting, environment. It sprouted even an unpublished behavioural finance.

  It was the usual ostentation of professionalism of doctor Cesana Enrico, manager marketing of the Furnaces Pharmaceutical S.p.A., in front of which expanse sat and resigned Helen Sastri.

  The girl attended the end of the exhibition of the manager, which, trying not to make to be surprised, she caressed her/it with the look along every centimeter of the body. A body that the touching fragrance of the most perfect youth united to the rapacious femininity of the woman exploded to the life.

  The black shoes left the neck of the foot, that softly drove the look from the ankle to the knee open; few over this, too much few over, the edge of a skirt I sky, combined in suit to a jacket that attended on the clothes-stand, it swallowed as a gallery indesiderata the crossed legs.

  The thin bust was covered by a white blouse in silk, so much light to make to believe to be transparent. A laced button, two, three. The quarter left the skin of the breast open, almost up to the joining of the breast.

  The face was sincere, the wary eyes, chestnut, swaying and full hair, smelled of clean, and they freed in the air the aroma of that balms able to turn on ashamed desires in whoever you/he/she had not been afraid of it.

  You were everything this and also more.

  Bella. Simply beautiful.

  Have I perhaps exaggerated in my devotion for Helen?

  What you want it stuffed: I adore her/it my favorite Daughter.

  «Then, welcome on board, Miss Sastri.»

  Helen also listened to those last words. They were those conclusive those that enacted his/her assumption. Yet it welcomed her with incomprehensible separation.

  It observed the manager's hand stretched out verse of her. It got up, scavallando the legs.

  «Thanks.»

  It returned the hold. An asexual formalism reigned in that room. A professional separation able to put every to his/her ease.

  The manager got up in turn.

  «I accompany her to the door.»

  The gallantry required by the business protocol could hide very well every desire. Anybody movement would have betrayed the pleasure of Henry Cesana in to approach the hand beside the girl, to graze as soon as the blouse, to realize its fold of the life under the fingers.

  It completed the work suffering her jacket the clothes-stand and returning him her.

  «We wait for her tomorrow. You pass first from Cinzia, one of our clinical assistant. It will accompany her to his/her new office and it will give her the whole informative material around his/her first medicines. It will have the whole time to study them to him with calm.»

  As it was reassuring, almost fatherly. Of however it is useless immediately to terrorize the mole assumed,: they will have the whole time to know the unreasonable intolerance of their heads and to warn. Before then, enough some affability to get as also from them is desired.

  Helen had brought by now his/her hulling away from the building, leaving that the office ripiombasse in the usual grayness.

  But Cesana had remained alone for few minutes, since another visitor had entered silent, you/he/she had almost given the change to the new assumed. He it was one of the little that could afford to intrude himself/herself/themselves in Manager Marketing's dominoes without not even knocking.

  Cesana had had only the time to lift the eyes, and the elegant and solid figure of Charles Pezzali was protected from now on him.

  «Doctor Pezzali» it said amazed. «I didn't expect me for this visit. Not often understands that you teachers condescends you to meet us dealers.»

  Charles Pezzali was the manager of the clinical laboratories, a man of almost fifty years, of which more than half devolved to the search. Under his/her guide, near the Furnaces Pharmaceutics was developed a creative and efficient team to image and similarity of the creator.

  «I have seen to go out of here the doctor Elena Sastri. Well, is it of ours now?»

  The severe look crossed from the tall one that of Henry, still sat to the table. These he felt subjugated by that rigid face, essential, almost graven in the stone. A rounded off face but well few amiable, which the grey hair trimmed to the root and the leaning cheekbones conferred a rigor that well few granted to the liking.

  «It knows Helen Sastri?» he/she asked confused.

  The researchers didn't usually interest leastly him in the assumptions of the commercial ones. And, naturally, vice versa. But there was something in that question that went over the simple curiosity. It was as if Pezzali already knew the answer.

  «Not personally. I know that it had to sustain with her the last interview.»

  «It is exact» it admitted.

  «Therefore you/he/she has been assumed.»

  «Yes, certainly.»

  «Well. Very well we have made a good choice.»

  Cesana started to become convinced him that nothing in that interview by now you/he/she would have had to surprise him/it. Nevertheless it tried to make to be clarified the ideas.

  «I would not like to insist but I had asked her if it knows that girl.»

  The researcher didn't decompose him.

  «He/she sees, Cesana": that girl", as you/he/she has called her she, is a young promise of the search, one of the most elastic minds and recettive that the university in Milan has given to the productive world.»

  «Search?» It interrupted him/it the commercial one. «But she is not introduced as researcher.»

  «I know him/it but talent is an universal value. What counts is that none of the competition can take advantage with the best elements. The genius is correct that I/you/he/she remain in family. And on the qualities of Helen Sastri I have also had reassurances from the university environments.»

  «Yes, I know him/it» it hastened to specify Cesana. «I have received the letter of introduction of the chairman of the thesis of Helen. The teacher has been very flattering.»

  «I didn't report me to the formalities of the chairman» it specified Pezzali frustrating once more the colleague. «That old baron is able only to put signatures and to box checks: you/he/she has seen Helen practically alone for the proclamation. I report me to professor Emilio Ricciuti, the person responsible of the laboratory of genetics in which you/he/she has made the internee. One that has had the opportunity of working to narrow contact with her. It is a friend and you/he/she has been very persuasive: I could not disappoint his/her expectations, and I/you/they are personally activated me because everything went to good end.» A break, imperceptible. Then a sentence. «It was essential that Helen Sastri was assumed near of us.»

  Cesana boxed the hit. That that one prerogative of his considered had been climbed over in so scurvy way.

  «But she has never spoken to me of Helen.»

  Almost reading him in the thought, Pezzali hastened to encourage him/it.

  «You don't worry him Cesana. I have not invaded his/her field in any way: the worth of the assumption is his. There was no need to speak to her of the doctor Sastri.» It underlined the title and the last name correcting the unworthy excess of confidence of the interlocutor. «You/he/she has been enough for me, as to say, to put his/her curriculum on top of the list of his/her candidates. I knew that a bloodhound as he
r would not be made to escape the taking.»

  It risked an irony, so much less flattering than it seemed to Cesana, that smiled pleased.

  «And so you/he/she has been, doctor» he/she affirmed with pride.

  «Then I leave her/it. I beg only me not to make mention to the doctor of this conversation of ours.»

  «Any problem.»

  «Well. It will have the opportunity of verifying on the field the quality of the new purchase.»

  «Certainly» it added to the address of the manager that had already turned his back. And once that these it overcame the door, it added among the teeth «I Hope to discover very soon it.»

  It was only now finally Henry Cesana, sunk in the revolving armchair in dark skin, with the lost look over the window.

  Reflected in the glass, its coarse face appeared, a baluginio of vitalismo defeated in the green eyes; a body in undoing, despite the attempts to preserve it that three times to week it completed in gym, a forehead that conquered footstep footstep the ground on the black hair in rout. It was a man, a gotten married quarantenne, with his/her/their wife how much with the job, with a manager physicist marketing, that could idle about now in thoughts between the licentious one and the affaristico.

  It was a winning assumption, that of Helen Sastri; the awareness of this went over the discourses of Charles Pezzali, that its pride was starting to push in the oblivion. And it also went over the open edges of skin of the new arrived, whose fragrance didn't stop inebriating him/it.

  The bank drafts were excellent: degree with praise in biology, a popular thesis in genetics from the title You Drosophila as I model for the study of the human genetic illnesses. A bright letter of introduction of the chairman, to plot the dowries of ductility, obstinacy and tenacity of the nominee. He/she still remembered the first interview: from those turgid lips that were rhythmically disclosed it went out well more that the rigid exposure of a curriculum.

  It was pleasant to feel her/it, since with the hearing also the sight, the sense of smell, even the touch, in short, the senses all were tickled by that presence.

  Able to make to digest every rambling speech, every cold and boring computation: this is the makeup of every seller, this the makeup of every winning. Since winning it is born, never he becomes.

  Beautiful and winning.

  You/he/she would never have assumed a latrine, even if you/he/she had also had best bank drafts.

  But whether to be ashamed of it? After all it is what you/they do all,: this is the world in which is accepted in silence that the beautiful ones have salaries between ten and the winds for one hundred taller than the ugly colleagues.

  Certainly it is not guilt of the ugly ones to be born ugly, he repeated. But it is a defect of manufacture however. In the marketing the defective piece brings him to the mother house and he changes. In the life of the men, no.

  With Helen Sastri you/he/she had chosen the best. It was so easy to become convinced himself/herself/themselves to have done him/it for the good of the firm and not to satisfy his/her own lust.

  That evening would have gone home, you/he/she would have embraced his/her wife, satisfied to have completed once more his/her own duty. You/he/she would have dined, watched the television, put to nanna his/her children.

  You/he/she would have gone in bed and the light would be extinguished soon: you/he/she would still have been too excited for serenely reading the newspaper.

  His/her wife lain down to his/her side would have caressed him/it with the hands softened by a moisturizing cream. Together with him, still vivid in the sense of smell, the fragrance of the young skin of Helen.

  And she would have appeared under the covers, to the dark: you/he/she would have been that the mouth that at that time would have sucked him/it in obscene way, as he liked it. You/he/she would have been far the heat of a kept body, for fear that the touch could reveal the deception.

  You/he/she was suffered, the mouth welcomed subdued the product of its pleasure; later it turned immediately him on the other side. It fell asleep satisfied, emptied of every disturbance, neither it allowed that the smothered hiccups of a humiliated wife could upset him the sleep.