While They Watch

by Khloe Summers

  The tall, young man pulled the microphone back to his lips. “Thank you, Mr. De Luca and Ms. Adams! We look forward to seeing what other great work you do here at the center.”

  As soon as the microphones cut, Matteo bent in towards my ear, “I think maybe we should’ve had him do a story on our bucket list… that would get people talking.”

  I threw back an annoying school girl laugh and slapped his hard chest—knowing full well I looked like a tool, yet unable to control myself after the high of our interview.

  Matteo glanced down at his phone, “We have to get moving if we’re going to hit San Francisco on time.”

  “San Francisco?” Lyla asked, her face a miserable shade of green. “Sounds good, just run off to wherever and also take credit for everything I do here.” Her aggression was no longer passive. It was full-on, out in the real world, fucking annoying.

  Matteo slanted his thick eyebrows inwards and stepped towards Lyla. “I’m not sure what you think was happening between us. But I was just friendly. It was always just friendly.”

  Lyla scrunched her button nose and forehead, slightly shaking her head, leaning her weight onto her back leg before letting out a sigh. “Of course, I know that!” She’d distracted herself with rummaging through the top drawer of the front desk, eventually pulling out another gray envelope, tossing it on the countertop in front of me. “This guy is messed up!”

  Eager to see what fun awaited, I cracked the seal. A plain white sheet of paper folded in half. On it, a typed message that I read aloud.

  “Dear Hannah, you’re making a mistake. You’ll see.”

  Matteo immediately took the paper from my hands, analyzing the short message again, flipping it over to see if we’d missed something. It didn’t seem like Daniel to be so quick with his words. Usually, he had more than enough to say.

  Matteo’s jaw clenched, and a tight rope had formed where his vein once was. “Let’s go. I’m going to deal with this guy now.”

  I looked back long enough to see Lyla’s face turn purple with frustration, storming off to the back with the animals. To be fair, she had done most of the work at the shelter, and I’d failed to recognize her publicly. I needed to find a way to make it up to her.

  We climbed into Matteo’s red sports car and took off towards Sparks. Matteo now irritated and etched on fixing Daniel.

  “He can’t keep doing this! It’s crazy,” he trilled, his accent getting thicker the angrier he became. “The police don’t try; they say they need more evidence. But we know! I worry for you Bella. I don’t want this guy hurting you anymore.”

  Rage boiled in the car as we drove up to the house I was happy to forget. The ominous sun, setting low behind its pitched roof causing streaks of dark purple and magenta across the blue sky. Matteo knocked. I stood behind him on the stoop, my heart pounding with worry. I hadn’t seen Daniel since the night I left. The doorknob jiggled, I flashed to the bathroom—back to the moment not long ago, when all I had was myself and misery. The door cracked open; Daniel peaked out. Messy hair laid piled on top of his head—his eyes half-open, his pajamas mismatched.

  “What the fuck do you want?” Daniel sneered, opening the tall black door further.

  Matteo pushed the door open to better grab Daniel’s surprised body. “Stop these letters immediately; I don’t want to take this further.”

  The whites of Daniel’s eyes were visible as he tensed his lips. The loose pajama bottoms now falling towards the ground in his upstretched position against the wall. I didn’t like violence, and I sincerely didn’t want anyone getting hurt, but I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t nice to be protected so fiercely.

  “What letters? I didn’t send any fucking letters!” Daniel spit the words, barely choking them from his mouth.

  Matteo let up a bit as he noticed a petite brunette coming at him with a broom. She couldn’t have been older than twenty-five.

  “I’ve upgraded, I don’t need this shit,” Daniel continued, turning towards the woman. “Lisa, stop. I have this.” He was now loose from Matteo’s grip. “There are no fucking letters! I’m done with this bitch. She should’ve realized what she had.” He looked sharply back in my direction. “You look fucking different. Like one of those rich bitches.”

  I pulled the notes out of my purse and showed them to Daniel. My hands, shaking with anxiety and adrenaline. “These notes, these are the ones you’re going to stop sending.”

  “I didn’t send those fucking notes or any fucking notes. Now leave, or I’m calling the fucking cops,” Daniel barked, slamming the door in our faces.

  Matteo turned towards me, “Who else would send this shit?”

  I stepped into the car and waited for Matteo to get in, “No one, he’s always been a liar. He’d never admit to sending them. Whatever it is, it’s harmless. He knows he couldn’t fight all that you have. He wouldn’t dare.”

  “You should get a protection order anyway. I’ll put it in motion.”

  I love how he’d taken care of me, but it was harder to go back than I’d thought. “I can’t wait to get away from all this drama!”

  He reached for my hand resting on my lap. There was nowhere I’d rather be than with Matteo. We could have been ice fishing in a dirty, old bay in the northernmost center of Canada, and I would’ve been happy. He made me feel like someone I didn’t know I could be, and I never wanted it to end.

  We arrived in San Francisco late that evening, finishing a bottle of wine as we settled in the high-rise hotel near Union Square. The room was lined with glass from ceiling to floor, offering us an incredible view of the city lights. White sofas and gray club chairs sat in formation amidst the dining table and a small modern kitchen.

  Matteo looked up from his glass, staring at me intently. “If I was to say I had a surprise, what would you say?”

  “If it were a bucket list surprise… I’d be intrigued.”

  He kissed my collarbone slowly from behind. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.” His cedar scent tangled with dry wine as he held my hair back softly along the nape of my neck. I arched back into his chest, giving him more access. He continued, softly pecking and caressing my shoulders as though we were two lovers in a movie made for romance. Abruptly, he stopped, leaving a chill on my skin amidst the moisture. I watched with droopy eyes as he turned the lights off in the room.

  “Do you see that building straight ahead?” He pointed to a high-rise sixty feet away: an office building, empty and dark except one room. Against the window, a row of eight people, all looking directly in.

  I looked back at Matteo with wide eyes, “What the hell?”

  “That’s a group of people that like to watch. They have no idea who we are. We’ll be on speaker with a direct line to them. They call out an act, and we complete it.” His excitement was intoxicating. “Sex on a stage,” he smiled, tilting his head to the left.

  He returned to the panel of switches, flicking every light alive. Their lights went out. My heart raced with anticipation at the thought of him pleasuring me in front of the world—high on top of this human-made mountain, coming for all to see.

  “Strip,” a woman’s voice softly demanded; this prompted Matteo to my side. Silently, he pulled at my clothing until I was bare, nuzzling his head into the corners of my neck as he moved. The chill from the air conditioner lifted my firm, red nipples to attention. I reached out, unbuckling his jeans, letting them fall to the ground with a thump. He stepped out of the legs, pulling down his tight, gray boxer briefs as I lifted his matching polo over his head. His dick poked at my stomach like a sword, as I ran my smooth hands over his hard, flawless chest. He was like a god; an Italian fountain statue come to life, rippling, and exposed to the world.

  “Lick her,” the woman’s voice continued. Matteo lifted me in his bulging arms and laid me on the dining room table. The perfect stage for a show. Without hesitation, he dove in face first, sending tremors up my spine. His straight nose hit my
clit, making me jump as he situated his tongue and mouth carefully in place, letting the pressure build between each soft bite. He flicked and circled my nub as I squirmed, stopping periodically to pull on my lips with his.

  I thought of the people watching. Wondered what the allure was to see such scant movements from such a distance — wondered why they hadn’t just logged online. But the thought of them there, at a distance, in real-life, watching and shouting out orders was enough to swell me into submission.

  Desperate for more, Matteo dug in, now moaning low, causing vibrations to echo on my clit. I wondered who else could see our exploits—maybe someone just closing their blinds for the night, now watching us fuck, touching themselves or each other in a hot bother, because of us.

  “Sixty-nine,” a male voice called. I swapped places with Matteo, now straddling his face—letting my soft, thick thighs rub against his cheeks. He sighed as I let my mouth fall onto his cock, taking all of him in, concentrating on his hood each time I lifted.

  I raised my torso to grind harder on his chin, pushing my clit around, looking for just the right spot. His sandpaper face added dimension, tickling me harder. I groaned loudly, letting out a deep sigh, wordlessly begging him for more. Feeling selfish, I wrapped my small hand around his thick cock, jerking him quickly as I sucked with pressure and intensity—sensing his rising explosion as his dick became harder and harder.

  “Reverse cowgirl,” a man called out, forcing us to change positions. Matteo stayed put, as I moved between his legs, now facing towards the window, my back towards him. Slowly, I slid my drenched pussy down onto his stiff, twitching cock.

  “Yeah…Bella!” he groaned deeply, trilling his words with luscious intent. With my legs close together, I bounced up and down, holding the edge of the table to keep my footing. “They’re watching you,” he whispered, rubbing his hands on the small of my back. “They’re watching those big tits bounce in the window, watching your back curve, they’re watching.” I moaned, dropping my head back, tangling my long blonde hair in his fingers. His size pushed and scraped at my wet walls, hitting my cervix with each bound.

  “I’m going to come!” I screamed, knowing I’d passed the point of return.

  “Do it!” he called back. His tone shaky with excitement, now pursuing me harder.

  “Stop!” a woman’s voice called. But we couldn’t. I held his thighs and rode his energy as he burst inside of me. Reaching up, he pulled at my hair, groaning with release as his muscles contracted. The rush of his pleasure sent me over the edge. I bowed my back and yelled out, climbing the ladder of desire as I bounced harder on his tired cock, finally moaning in relief as I reached the top.

  He was flushed and out of breath as he pulled me into his side, “Well, that didn’t last long.”

  I twisted my lips into a half-smile and lifted my sticky hair away from my back, “Yeah, we’re awful!”

  I loved the co-misery we’d created, the pleasure we’d found in coming too fast, despite demands to stop. He pushed the button to close the shades and further wrapped me in. For a while, I laid awake listening to the rhythm of his breath, riding his chest as it rose and fell. Then, I too fell victim to the comfort and closed my eyes.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Matteo

  We’d gone to the edge and back again, letting each other into parts of our lives no one else had been. Trusting her had been easy. Easy, despite years of pushing others away and shaming myself for not being more like my father. That part scared me. I’d always seemed to get wrapped in with the wrong people, desperate for a love that wasn’t coming.

  Kicking the thin sheet away from my body, I carefully lifted my arm away from her sleeping frame. She was a small galaxy, wrapped in white, breathing in and out softly as I counted her stars.

  Quietly, I made my way to the living room, back to where we’d exposed ourselves to half of San Francisco. I couldn’t sleep. The notes Hannah had been receiving terrified me. She’d quickly become my focus, a soul I needed to protect. Though she was probably right, if no one had done anything by now, they probably wouldn’t. I stood up to make tea, something to jolt me awake for the day. There was no going back to sleep, it was well after 6 AM and I was taking Hannah to meet a few friends while we were in town. I glanced down at my phone while the tea was brewing — a text I’d missed from Erik.

  Erik: I’m on the 8th floor if you need anything.

  I’d been traveling with Erik as long as I can remember. Since my parents died anyway, I text him back, knowing he’d have his phone muted if he was sleeping.

  Me: Thanks man, you should come up for some tea if you’re up, I could use some advice.

  Moments later, Erik had made his way up to the penthouse, already dressed for the day in smart slacks and a casual button-down, with a bag in his hand.

  “Going out to see the city today?” I asked, still groggy from the lack of sleep.

  “No, sir. I am going to visit my brother. I’m catching the train after this. I have a blanket he wants to take photos of.” He pulled a large quilt from the bag and set it on the counter in front of us. Each white and blue square sewed together with care. “It’s an heirloom, my grandmother’s.”

  “That’s great, how long has it been in the family?” I asked, mindlessly pouring tea into our mugs. Without thought, in an early morning haze, I poured and poured while staring at the quilt. The quilt, that was now soaked in black tea—the white slowly absorbing the stain, turning dark brown. Erik looked at me alarmed, his close-set eyes beating out of their sockets.

  “Sir!” he yelled, reaching for the pot.

  “Maledetto! Fuck!” I pulled the pot away from the cups. “I’ll pay to get it cleaned. I’m sorry!” I took out my wallet, ready to give him the money for cleaning. “Here, I have $500 in my pocket. If it costs more, let me know.”

  Erik gathered the wet blanket back into the bag. “I’m going to go see if there’s a cleaner open this early.” His eyes were wide, a tight smile laid across his face.

  “I can send out for it to be cleaned, leave it here.”

  He turned towards the door, “No sir, I need to have this for today’s photo. My brother just had a baby. They’re taking her photo with it. I’ll meet you at the jet when it’s time to leave.”

  I felt awful, my head had been everywhere but where it needed to be. That was happening a lot these days. I couldn’t help it. Hannah was all I could think about.

  Chapter Fifteen

  There’s something awkward about being that girl — the one who’s rescued and slapped into a life she didn’t expect. The one who tries to fit in, and truly believes she does until others enter the picture. Then, all at once, at a luncheon on the 21st floor of the fanciest hotel in San Francisco, she realizes she doesn’t fit in at all. Instead, she stands out. She stands out like a big orange cone, in the middle of a high society brunch. She stands out like a $40 dress at the Oscars. In case you’d been wondering, that girl was me. And I was currently making a fool of myself.

  Before heading back to Tahoe, Matteo thought it would be nice to introduce me to a group of friends. Two ‘friends’ that also had successful horse ranches, worth millions. I know, because I googled them a few moments go. The first, an older Irishman who wore olive slacks and a black sweater vest, his skin—more red than pale. His wife, a 24 year-old Brazilian, who had dreams of being a model. The second, a middle-aged American who wore a black suit, and talked endlessly about his properties in nearly every country on the planet. His wife, a 22 year-old Russian woman, another aspiring model. I’d never been the type to compare myself to others or put much thought into how much money someone was wearing. But, if they were Gucci—I was thrift shop. Since meeting Matteo, I’d spent very little. Desperate to save money for a place of my own. And when he’d taken me out, I bought less expensive things because I didn’t want him to think I was after his money. So, alone, my black tea-length dress was beautiful, but next to these women, it looke
d like a trash bag. At first, I’d thought it was nerves or my self-conscious ways getting the best of me again, that I’d imagined their eyes darting and judging. Then, I learned differently.

  I pushed back my chair, ignoring my racing heart, “Excuse me for a moment.” Leaving the table, I made my way towards the bathroom. But before I’d even rounded the corner, I heard the older Irishman speak, “Where’d you find this one?”

  I was still less than twenty feet from the table, now dying to hear how Matteo handled the situation. But before he got a chance, the man was at it again.

  “She’s obviously after money.”

  Blood fizzed in my veins, readying my lips to point out the drifters they’d been dragging around. Matteo said nothing, instead sipped at his wine. I hid behind a pillar, watching as the scenario played out.

  “If you’re going to take her out, you should at least take her shopping first!” the American quipped, laughing at his own joke. His wife slapped him on the knee giggling, as though she knew it was shitty, but she would laugh anyway.

  I turned around escaping to the bathroom, knowing the dam of insecurities I’d been holding back had broken. In its place, a flood of emotion and doubt. Alone, we worked, but with his peers, I was an embarrassment. I shut the tall door to the stall and sat scrolling through my phone—hoping it would open a portal and suck me in. I couldn’t look him in the eyes. I felt ugly, poor, and suddenly, like a giant mooch. Angry, humiliated, and confused, I booked a train ticket home for that afternoon. I slid past the round table to the left of the lobster tank, effectively avoiding the shit storm of asshole billionaires, straight out to my Uber who was now patiently waiting at the curb.

  That night, I stayed at the cheapest motel I could find. The kind that’s lit by flashing neon signs near the outskirts of town by the highway. Musty cigarettes filled my nose as I unlocked the flimsy green door. A small roach crawled under the bed as I flicked on the light, a light, which did nothing more than highlight dusty corners and a low, creaky bed. A harsh adjustment to Egyptian cotton and turn down service.