by Evie Blake
‘Valentina?’
‘Leonardo, sorry to ring you at this hour.’
‘Is something wrong?’
She circles the kitchen, chewing her lip.
‘I think someone might have broken into my apartment.’
‘Are you okay, Valentina? Did you ring the police?’
‘Well I’m not really sure someone did . . .’ She pauses. ‘I heard noises, but nothing has been taken.’
‘You probably just had a bad dream. Are you sure you’re okay?’
‘Yes, I’m fine . . . just a bit spooked, you know. I needed to talk to someone, and you’re the only person I know who would be awake.’
‘What about Theo?’
She sighs.
‘He’s unavailable.’
There is an awkward pause. Valentina presses the phone tight against her ear.
‘Would you like me to come over?’ Leonardo asks.
Valentina promises herself that if she says yes, nothing will happen. She really doesn’t want to go back to bed alone. She just needs some company.
‘Yes,’ she says, before she has a chance to change her mind. ‘Just for a little while . . . if it’s okay with Raquel.’
‘Raquel is away,’ Leonardo tells her. ‘Give me your address and I’ll take a taxi.’
Valentina supposes she should put on some clothes. Her great-grandmother’s vintage wardrobe is still strewn on the couch where she left it earlier today. She slips on a silk chemise and a pair of silk pyjama bottoms underneath a blue silk kimono, which she belts around the waist. It is completely over the top, and yet Valentina feels better, as if she is in some kind of costume.
Leonardo arrives armed with a bottle of red wine.
‘So,’ he asks, ‘is it night-time or morning for you? I’ve just finished work, so I could do with a drink. How about you?’
‘Wine too, thanks,’ Valentina says, tipping her mug of camomile tea into the sink. She opens the dresser and takes out two wine glasses.
They sit at opposite ends of the kitchen table.
‘So what were you doing tonight?’ asks Valentina, trying to break through her shyness. ‘Being dominant? Pouring hot wax on to some unsuspecting girl’s backside?’
Leonardo puts on a mock frown.
‘You know I can’t tell you that, Valentina,’ he says, wagging his finger at her. ‘If I broke my clients’ confidence, my credibility would be ruined.’
She sighs and sits back in her chair, takes a big slurp of wine. She feels so much better now, having Leonardo here with her.
‘So did you see anyone in your flat?’ Leonardo asks her.
She shakes her head.
‘No. I heard noises, as if someone was dragging furniture, and then I thought they were outside my bedroom door.’
She thinks about telling Leonardo about the man at Marco’s party, and that maybe he broke in, but it all seems bit preposterous now she is sitting opposite him at her kitchen table. And yet that smell . . . She can still sense it lingering in the air of her apartment. It was the same smell as that man’s shirt at the party.
‘But they didn’t come into your bedroom? You didn’t actually see someone?’
‘No, I thought he stood in my bedroom doorway and shone a light on me, but my eyes were closed and maybe I imagined the whole thing.’
‘Were you scared?’ Leonardo leans forward across the table, picks up her limp hand and squeezes it.
‘Yes,’ she whispers.
He takes his hand away, and dips his finger in his wine, licking it, looking at her the whole time.
‘Were you turned on?’
‘No! Of course not!’ Yet she cannot look him in the eye. How does this man know these things about her?
They sit in silence for a few moments. Valentina shifts in her chair. She can feel her silk clothing sliding all over her body, her skin prickling with anticipation. Isn’t it a sick thing to feel turned on by the idea of a stranger attacking you in your bed? And yet Leonardo is right. The idea of it is erotic to her.
‘So, Valentina,’ Leonardo finally asks. ‘Do you want to play a game?’
It starts like something she played as a child with friends from school. A kind of hide and seek, but in the dark and with a torch. Leonardo has turned all the lights off in the apartment, and it is still dark outside. Only a small amount of light from the street manages to leach through the slats of the blinds, so that she can see his shadowy outline in the blackened room, just like the intruder in her imagination. He is standing in the doorway, swinging the torch rhythmically from side to side, like a searchlight. The idea is that she has to get to the other side of the bedroom without being caught in the beam. If he does catch her, she has to remove an item of clothing. She has already lost her dressing gown and pyjama bottoms. She only has her chemise left, and she is not sure what happens to her after she has lost that.
She creeps out from behind her dressing table and crawls along the marble floor. She is making for the doorway, hoping she can slip through behind him, but she knows he senses she is there, and the beam of the torch is moving irrevocably towards her. She holds her breath, tries to quieten her excitement. She realises she is having fun. She is nearly there. How much she wants to fool Leonardo, but just as she is about to slip past him, the full force of the torchlight is shone on her face and she is momentarily blinded.
‘Miss Valentina.’ She hears his taunting voice. ‘You are caught! Take off your top.’
She obeys, pulling her silk chemise over her head and dropping it on the rug. Now she is completely naked, in the full beam of his torch. She tries to see him, but it is impossible. She is in the spotlight, trapped.
‘You are now my prisoner,’ Leonardo tells her. ‘You must do exactly as I say.’
She should stop the game now, Valentina thinks, remembering the promise she made to herself when she invited Leonardo over. And yet she doesn’t want to. It doesn’t feel like she is doing something wrong, even though she is naked in front of this man. She can’t understand why it feels all right to be doing this; all she knows is that she is excited. She doesn’t know what he might do to her, but she wants to find out. She wants to submit to whatever Leonardo tells her to do.
‘Lie down,’ he orders. Still in the torchlight, she lies on the rug on her back.
‘Raise your knees and open your legs.’
She does as she is told, feeling wicked and incredibly turned on.
He is illuminating me with his torch. He is looking right into me.
‘Touch yourself,’ he says. ‘Show me how much you want me.’
She pushes her right hand between her legs and begins to caress herself with her finger. She opens her legs wider and closes her eyes. She feels exposed, and primal. She opens her mouth, licks her lips with her tongue.
‘What do you want, Valentina?’ Leonardo says.
She submerges herself in her fantasy.
‘I want to be fucked,’ she whispers.
She opens her eyes to realise that the flashlight has been turned off and the room is completely dark again. She sees Leonardo’s sturdy shadow coming towards her. Her heart begins to pound faster. She should stop him, yet she feels so primed for sex, aroused by Leonardo’s masterful persona. She wants to be in his power.
Leonardo leans over her, takes her hand from between her legs and pulls her up on to her knees so that she is facing him. He is still dressed, and she clings on to the waistband of his jeans, desperately feeling his hardness against her cheek.
‘Unbutton my jeans,’ he orders, and he no longer sounds like the Leonardo she knows, but another man. Hard and unforgiving.
She quickly does what he has told her, and pulls his jeans down his hips to the floor. He kicks them off.
‘Take off my shorts.’
She pulls down his shorts, and he springs free, his erect penis brushing against her cheeks, making her breath quicken.
‘Pleasure me,’ he growls.
She licks the whole length
of him with her tongue, and then pivots it around the top of his penis. She can feel him stirring, responding to her touch. She takes his length out of her mouth and strokes him with her hand, squeezing him tightly before pushing him back inside her mouth again. Leonardo bends down and brings his hand between her legs, touching her with his fingers.
‘Valentina, you are so plush, so ready for me,’ he whispers. ‘You are like velvet.’
He brings his hands up, licks his fingers and places them spread upon her shoulders. He steps back so that his penis is pulled out of her mouth and goes down on his knees opposite her. They look into each other’s faces. He smiles. For a moment he is the Leonardo she knows again.
‘Okay?’ he asks her softly.
‘Very,’ she whispers back.
His eyes darken, and he squeezes her nipples tightly between his fingers, causing her to melt further.
‘Turn around,’ he says, his voice reverting to its earlier hardness.
She turns, and he puts a hand on the small of her back, pushing her down on to all fours. He puts his arm between her legs so that his hand is on her stomach and drags it down her belly, across her pelvis, through her pubic hair and under, slowly, slowly, enticing her with his fingers.
‘What do you want, Valentina?’ he asks her again.
‘I want you to fuck me!’ she hisses.
Leonardo pushes inside her, and she gasps with shock. He pounds into her again and again, and she is panting with excitement and fright, her fingers digging into the thick pile rug. This is pure sex. No love attached, just the complicity of Valentina and Leonardo’s friendship. It is what she needs right now. He thrusts in and out of her with such force. She can feel his hairy chest against her back, and she imagines his dark skin aflame with desire, glowing as if it is on fire from within. She is so close now. Leonardo cries out, coming inside her with one final thrust. It is too soon for her. She tries to hold him still inside her, pushes back against him, but he withdraws.
She bends over, stares into the patterns of the rug, aware of Leonardo beside her, taking off the condom, pulling on his shorts. She is taut with frustrated desire, and another emotion, rocketing through her. Anger. It is so intense, she cannot move. She is furious. Not with Leonardo, or even herself, but with Theo. She realises that no matter how many men she sleeps with, no one will do but him. How did she let this happen to her? In the very moment she has realised that Theo is right, that they do have something special together, she has destroyed it. What boyfriend will ever understand what she has been doing with Leonardo?
‘Valentina . . . Valentina . . .’
She feels someone shaking her, pulling her out of her sleep.
‘Valentina, wake up, you’re having a nightmare.’
She opens her eyes. Leonardo is leaning over her, his brown eyes filled with concern.
She breathes out slowly, takes in the scene. She is lying in her bed, Leonardo next to her. It is day. And she can tell by the way sunlight fills the whole room that it is late.
‘Are you okay?’ he asks.
She nods, although she is still a little shaken by her nightmare.
‘Do you want to tell me about your dream?’
She sighs.
‘Not really. I’d rather try to forget about it.’ Underwater. Darkness. Sinking. Suffocating.
She sits up in bed, wipes the sleep from her eyes and looks at her bedfellow properly. She begins to register what happened the night before.
‘I can’t believe we did what we did last night . . .’ she begins to say.
‘Did you enjoy it?’ Leonardo asks, head cocked to one side. ‘Did you have fun?’ Is it her imagination, or has he just laid particular emphasis on the word fun?
‘Of course I enjoyed it!’
She throws a pillow at him playfully. He laughs for a moment, then throws the pillow back.
‘I wasn’t too sure,’ he says. ‘You seemed a bit upset afterwards.’
‘I’m just confused . . .’ She pauses. ‘About Theo. And what about Raquel?’
‘Don’t be,’ Leonardo says. ‘Raquel and I have an open relationship. She was with someone else last night as well.’
Valentina’s eyes widen in shock. So there are some people who really can do this and still stay together.
‘As for Theo, trust me, all will be clear after you go inside the Dark Room tonight.’
The way he speaks, it’s as if he knows something she doesn’t.
‘What are you hiding from me, Leonardo?’ She pokes him with her finger.
He gives her a honeyed smile.
‘Patience, Valentina.’ And the way he says it reminds her of Theo. Now her anger at her lover has dissipated and she is filled with concern. Has she ruined any future she and Theo might have, by sleeping with Leonardo? Should she hide it from him? And yet she can’t regret last night. That’s the odd thing.
‘I would like you to do something for me, Valentina,’ Leonardo says.
She looks at him questioningly.
‘In order for me to ensure that the Dark Room fulfils your needs to perfection, I want you to tell me about your most erotic fantasy.’
He looks at her intently, and she can feel her cheeks colouring as if he can read her mind.
‘Do you think you can do that, Valentina?’ He sidles over to her side of the bed.
‘I don’t know,’ she mumbles. ‘I’m not sure I know what it is.’
‘I could help you think of something,’ he says, stroking the top of her thighs underneath the covers. Her body immediately responds to his touch. She is still left wanting from last night.
‘Okay . . .’ she whispers.
‘Close your eyes,’ he instructs her, and she does what he asks, so that all her senses are focused on his touch. She feels his finger pushing against her clitoris, gently rubbing it.
‘Go into your fantasy, Valentina.’ His voice purrs. ‘Take me to your deepest, darkest desire.’
As Leonardo’s fingertips bring her closer and closer to the edge, in Valentina’s mind is illuminated an image. Her ultimate fantasy. Hesitantly she relays her vision to Leonardo.
When she has finished, the image is replaced by another scene. One she doesn’t share with him. In it she returns to her bedroom at night. Theo is there, torch in hand, and he is gloriously naked. He drops the torch so that it is spinning on the floor, projecting light around the walls of the room like a disco ball. He lifts her up with both hands, up so high that the top of her head is brushing against the chandelier, making the glass tinkle and projecting even more reflections, like raindrops cascading all around them in their bedroom. He brings her down again and she puts her legs around his waist, guiding him into her. One thrust and she is open wide, the frustrations of this week melting away as if a door has been opened in the small of her back and a flood of emotion is pouring out. And so Valentina comes again and again, the magic of Leonardo’s touch transporting her into the arms of her lover, Theo.
Belle
SIGNOR BRZEZINSKI IS BACK. BELLE HAS NOT SEEN HIM, but she heard him last night, stomping around the house, and shouting at Renate in the kitchen that his meat was not cooked right. He is biding his time, she thinks, but it will not be long before he hits her again. She can’t risk it, not because she is frightened of him, but because she needs to protect Santos. She knows her lover will be true to his word if he sees one more bruise upon her skin.
I will run away, Belle vows when she wakes the next morning. She has a delicious fantasy of herself and Santos far, far away from Venice. She is wrapped in furs, crunching in the snow, Santos at her side, the steam from their breath mingled as they look up at the bright domes and spires of St Basil’s Cathedral in Moscow. Clutched in the palm of her hand, inside her coat pocket, is the Romanov emerald that they have retrieved from a communist stronghold. Or they are somewhere tropical, sailing on his white schooner and stopping off in Cuba, where they spend the night dancing and gambling with shady characters, only to escape with all the winni
ngs. Yes, luck would be on their side, for surely when two people are meant to be together, they will be granted a greater measure of good fortune.
The door opens and Pina enters with her breakfast tray. Belle sits up in bed, patting the pillows behind her and feeling more positive than she has in ages. It is time to break her promise. What kind of promise is it anyway when it is demanded from you by your father on his deathbed? That is bribery, Belle reasons. It is time to live for herself and no longer feel responsible for her mother.
She looks down at her breakfast on the tray on her lap. Milky tea in the bone-china cup from Vienna, two neat triangles of toast and a softly boiled egg in a silver eggcup. She knocks the lid off the egg with her teaspoon. Just looking at the yolk turns her stomach. She hastily shoves the tray aside and gets out of bed.
‘Madam? Are you all right?’ Pina is at the windows, drawing back the curtains.
Belle nods, unable to speak as she rushes into her bathroom. She barely makes it to the toilet before she throws up.
As she sits on her haunches by the toilet bowl, Pina hesitantly enters the bathroom.
‘Madam, are you ill?’
‘I don’t know, Pina. I was feeling fine a minute ago. It was the egg. It’s made me rather queasy.’
She puts her hands on the cool black and white tiles of her bathroom floor and then up to her forehead, but she doesn’t have a temperature.
‘You should get back into bed. Rest.’
Belle stands up shakily, leans over the sink and looks at her pale face.
‘No. I have to go out.’
She locks eyes with Pina in the mirror. The younger girl blushes scarlet. She knows my secret, Belle thinks. I don’t know this girl at all, yet I would trust her with my life.
‘Tell me, Pina,’ Belle says as she starts to apply her makeup. ‘Do you miss your home in Sicily?’
The girl nods, her eyes doleful, her mouth drawn in a sad line.
‘I remember when you sang to me in your dialect. It was quite beautiful.’ Belle leans forwards and starts shaping her eyebrows. She still feels a little sick, but she is not going to let it stop her from seeing Santos today. ‘So are your parents in Sicily still?’
