365 Days

by Blanka Lipinska

  “You see,” I continued, ashamed. “I’ve never made love to anyone. I only fucked. And I liked it. No man has ever taught me how to make love. So… there you are. You might be disappointed,” I finished and turned my head away, embarrassed.

  “Hey, baby girl,” he said gently, turning my face back toward himself. “You’re so vulnerable. I haven’t seen you like this before. Don’t be afraid. This will be your first time, but it will be a first one for me too. Don’t go. I’m being serious.”

  “Ask me. Say please,” I suggested, turning onto my belly. “You only need to ask. You don’t have to command.”

  Massimo hesitated for a moment, watching me. His stare wasn’t cold this time. It gave way to desire and passion.

  “Please, stay with me,” he burst out, and laughed.

  “Not a problem,” I replied, rolling over on the carpet.

  Curious, I watched, waiting for his next move. He took off his jacket and hung it over the backrest of the armchair, unclasped his cuff links, and rolled up his sleeves. He was getting ready for something big. I giggled quietly. When Massimo disappeared behind the door, the only thing left for me was to scan my surroundings. The thick bright rug on which I was lying neatly harmonized with the rest of the huge room. The only other furniture were the two soft armchairs and a small black coffee table. The door led to other rooms—probably the living room first—but down on the floor I could only see the tall windows obscured with heavy drapes, and a wide terrace behind them, followed by the sea in the distance.

  Waiting expectantly for my lover, I was suddenly struck by a worrying thought.

  I had a couple of pounds of fake hair on my head! I started to pluck out the hundreds of pins holding my hair in position. For a long while I kept tugging at the elaborate chignon, praying that Massimo didn’t catch me like that. When I was finally free, my eyes started darting around, looking for a place to stow the bundle of hair. The rug! I sat up and stuffed it all under the heavy thing, and brushed my fingers through my hair, letting the wavy strands fall over my face. I pushed myself up, looking in the mirror, which took up most of the wall behind the armchairs. Surprised, but also quite satisfied, I realized I still looked attractive. I let myself drop back to the rug.

  “Close your eyes,” I heard from the next room. “Please.”

  I rolled over to my back and did as I was asked. With no idea what position to take, I felt Massimo standing above me.

  “You look like a body in a coffin that way, Laura,” he said, laughing.

  Right, those hands lying on my chest with fingers knitted might have looked a bit like that.

  “I’m not here to talk about death,” I retorted, opening one eye and smirking.

  The Man in Black bent over and took me in his arms. As always, he did it so easily it seemed that I weighed next to nothing. Massimo carried me down a short corridor and soon I felt a blow of warm air carrying the smell of the sea.

  He put me down and gently took my face in his hands, kissing me softly.

  I reached out with my arms to touch him. He didn’t resist. I started unbuttoning his shirt while his lips wandered up and down my neck.

  “I love the smell of you,” he whispered, pinching my chin between his teeth.

  “Can I open my eyes now?” I asked. “I want to see you.”

  “Yes, you can,” he replied, and his hand hovered toward the zipper holding my dress in place.

  I raised my eyelids, revealing a stunning vista. We were on the terrace of the top floor of the hotel and could see most of the island of Lido. Flickering lights illuminated the night, shining over the waves breaking on the beach. The terrace was enormous—it had a private bar, a Jacuzzi, a few chaise longues, and a canopied gazebo with a bed inside, which made me think of the one in Massimo’s garden. The difference was that the interior of this one was completely covered by canvas walls, and the mattress itself had a full set of sheets and a couple of pillows on it. I was pretty sure we’d be spending the night right here.

  My dress slipped off and slid silently to the floor. Massimo’s hands slowly traced a path along my naked skin, and his tongue lazily slid between my lips.

  “You’re not wearing underwear again, Laura,” he breathed, his lips still close to mine. “And you haven’t done that for me this time, either. You couldn’t know I’d be here.”

  There was no anger in his voice now. Only surprise and amusement.

  “When I put the dress on, I thought you had picked it for me. I had no idea I would be going with Domenico,” I replied, pulling off his shirt and falling to my knees.

  Steadily, I unbuckled his belt, glancing upward, looking for a reaction from that magnificent man. His hands were hanging limply beside his body. He didn’t resemble the man who had so terrified me just a few weeks ago. With a quick, confident motion, I pulled his pants down, revealing an impressive erection.

  “I can see you’ve been in a hurry, too. Or the meeting you’ve gone to wasn’t of the kind I imagined,” I said, looking at Massimo with a question in my eyes. “Where are your boxers?”

  With a growing smile, Massimo shrugged and ran his fingers through my hair.

  Slowly, I reached around his hips, placing my hand on his buttock and pulling him toward me. I was only inches away from his penis now. I gently grabbed the base and kissed the tip. Massimo moaned, the fingers in my hair drawing circles. I caressed him softly with my tongue and my lips until he grew steel-hard and swollen. I opened my mouth and slid it slowly into my mouth—all of it—wanting to feel every inch. I pulled away and pushed back at him, played with it, kissed it, and bit it until I felt the sticky fluid seeping down my throat. Massimo watched me the whole time, panting heavily.

  He bent down, slid his arms under my shoulders, and lifted me. He kissed me on the lips, stepping toward the steaming Jacuzzi built into the terrace. Stepping inside, he sat me down astride himself. With his eyes looking deep into mine, me brushed his lips against the skin of my face and neck, until he reached my breasts. He softly sucked and bit my nipple, while his hands tightened on my buttocks. Suddenly his finger slid to a place that I hadn’t really felt appropriate if we were to make love. I stiffened.

  “Don’t be afraid, baby girl. Do you trust me?” he asked, letting go of my erect nipple.

  I nodded, and his finger started to gently rub the spot between my buttocks. Massimo lifted me and steadily but carefully impaled me on his phallus. I moaned, throwing my head back. The hot water intensified my every sensation. Massimo’s movements were steady and delicate at the same time. He was passionate, greedy, but also tender.

  “Don’t be afraid of me,” he said, sliding the tip of his finger into my anus.

  I let out a loud moan of delight, which he immediately stifled with his tongue. He was impaling me harder and harder. The water sloshed against the walls of the Jacuzzi to the rhythm of his stroking hips, and a different wave—a wave of ecstasy like I hadn’t known before—rose inside me. Everything around me grew as if damped and subdued. I focused entirely on Massimo. With his free hand, he reached under the water and gently rubbed my clitoris. It was like pushing a red button deep inside me. The finger exploring my anus slid deeper and sped up its motion.

  “One more,” I whispered, keeping the orgasm at bay with difficulty. “Slide another finger into me.”

  That nearly caused the Man in Black to lose control. He pushed deeper inside my mouth with his tongue, and his teeth bit on my lip harder, causing a pang of beautiful pain.

  “Laura,” he breathed, obeying. “You’re so tight.”

  Without thinking if I should, if I was allowed, I simply came as he said that. With a gasp and then a cry I reached the climax of pleasure. My entire body flushed and cooled down in a few seconds.

  Massimo waited until I was calm again and carried me to the bed. I was only semiconscious when he pressed his body to mine and entered me again. He snuggled his face in my hair, and his hips rushed at me, hard. I could feel he was about to come, too
. I writhed and moaned, my nails biting into the skin of his back. My kisses on his neck were greedy, and I bit his shoulders, listening to his breathing—growing faster and faster, heralding an explosion. He pushed both hands beneath my back and hugged me so tightly I could barely breathe. His hand clutched at the back of my neck, and he looked me in the eyes.

  “I love you, Laura,” Massimo said, and I felt a wave of hot seed spilling inside me. His bliss was intense and lasted for a long while. His eyes never wavered from my face the entire time. It was so sensual and sexy that I felt my own muscles tightening with his, and I joined him. Finally, Massimo collapsed on me, his body taking away my breath.

  “You’re heavy,” I said, trying to slide from beneath him. “And your cock is perfection.”

  Massimo burst out laughing and rolled over, freeing me.

  “I’ll take it as a compliment, baby girl.”

  “I need to wash myself,” I said, trying to get up.

  The Man in Black pulled me toward himself.

  “I can’t agree to that.” He reached out with a hand and took a box of tissues from the night table.

  Just as in the airplane, when he had first tasted my pussy, he gently wiped me clean before covering me with the duvet.

  We lay in bed, talking, until the sun came up. He told me how it felt growing up in a Mafia family, and about his uncles. About the beauty of an exploding Etna and about his favorite dishes. We ordered breakfast and watched as a new day began, never leaving bed.

  “Which one is it today?” he asked, sitting up.

  I frowned, looking at him without understanding. “What are you asking?” I wrapped myself in the duvet. “The day? It’s Wednesday.”

  “Which day?” he asked again, and it dawned on me what his question really meant.

  I tried counting in my head, but the events of last night made it seem like something so irrelevant.

  “I don’t know. I stopped counting,” I said, sipping my tea.

  The Man in Black got up and went to the terrace railing, propping his hands on it. I rolled to the side and observed him. His buttocks were beautifully toned, small and shapely. His lean legs made his back and shoulders look even wider than they really were.

  “Would you like me to set you free?” he asked, his eyes locking on me. I could see the tension in his face. “I’m taking a great risk now, but I just can’t really enjoy your presence when I know I’m making you unhappy. So if you’d like to leave, you can return to Warsaw. I can get you there today.”

  I looked at him with disbelief, filled with joy. When a wide smile appeared on my face, Massimo grew cold, and his stare became impassive. He said, “Domenico will take you to the airport. The soonest flight leaves at eleven thirty.”

  I sat up, happy and afraid at the same time, looking out to the sea. I could go back! I heard the door to the apartment slam shut. Holding the duvet to my chest, I jumped to my feet and ran inside. Massimo was nowhere to be seen. I peeked outside to the corridor, but it was empty. I went back inside and dropped to the floor, my back sliding down the wall. All the events of last night flashed before my eyes like a frantic movie—the love we made to each other, the fooling around, the talking until the crack of dawn. My eyes watered—I felt like I’d lost something.

  My heart ached. I could feel its beat. Was it possible I had fallen in love with Massimo?

  I headed back to the terrace and picked up my dress. It was so crumpled I couldn’t possibly wear it. I ran to the bedroom and quickly called reception and asked to be connected with Domenico’s room. Amazingly, the receptionist knew who he was. My hands were shaking. I couldn’t catch my breath. When the young Italian picked up, I was already crying. I said, “Please, come to me.” Then I fell to the bed.

  * * *

  “Laura, can you hear me?”

  I opened my eyes groggily and saw Domenico sitting next to me. There were some vials with medicine on the table, and an elderly man standing next to the bed, talking over the phone.

  “What happened? Where’s Massimo?” I asked, terrified, trying to get up.

  Domenico stopped me and explained, “This is a doctor. He took care of you when I couldn’t find your pills.”

  The older man said something in Italian, smiled, and left us.

  “Where’s Massimo? What’s the time?”

  “It’s nearly noon. Massimo left,” Domenico replied.

  My head was spinning, and I felt nauseous. Everything hurt.

  “Take me to him right now! I need some clothes!” I cried, wrapping myself in the sheets.

  Domenico sent me a curious look, got up, and went to the closet.

  “I ordered some of your things sent here before we arrived. The boat is waiting downstairs. We can go as soon as you’re ready.”

  I jumped up and sprinted toward the closet. I didn’t care what I wore. I grabbed a white Victoria’s Secret tracksuit Domenico was holding, and a while later I was in the bathroom, frantically trying to put it on. I glanced at the mirror and yesterday’s makeup on my face. I said I didn’t care how I looked, but that would be too much. I wiped the makeup off and went back to the bedroom, where Domenico was still waiting.

  The motorboat was too slow, despite ripping through the waves at maximum speed.

  Nearly an hour later, I saw the hull of the Titan in the distance.

  “Finally,” I breathed, jumping to my feet.

  I didn’t wait until we were moored—I skipped to the deck of the yacht immediately. I ran, looking everywhere, opening all doors, but Massimo was nowhere to be seen.

  Resigned and crying, I collapsed onto the sofa in the lounge. I was drowning in tears, and my throat felt so tight I couldn’t breathe.

  “An hour ago the helicopter took him to the airport,” Domenico said, sitting next to me. “He’s got a lot of work now.”

  “Does he know I’m here?” I asked.

  “I don’t think so. He left his cell phone in the room. I couldn’t call him. Besides, there are some places where he can’t take his phone.”

  Crying, I threw myself into Domenico’s arms.

  “What am I to do now, Domenico?”

  The young Italian hugged me and stroked my hair.

  “I don’t know, Laura. I have never been in such a situation. We just have to wait for him to call.”

  “I need to go back,” I said, getting up.

  “To Poland?”

  “No. Sicily. I’ll wait for him to return. May I?”

  I sent Domenico a wide-eyed stare, waiting for his permission.

  “Of course. As far as I know, nothing has changed.”

  “So let’s pack our things and go to the island.”

  I slept through most of the journey, with the help of sedatives. When finally I stepped into the SUV at the airport in Catania, it felt like I was returning home. The highway led along the slopes of Mount Etna, and the only thing I could think of was Massimo, smiling and telling me stories from his childhood.

  When we entered the driveway, I noticed it didn’t look like last time. The maroon stones had been replaced with dark gray ones and the drive was lined with new bushes and flowers. I barely recognized the place. Confused, I looked twice, making sure we were in the right spot.

  “Don Massimo ordered it all to be replaced during our trip,” Domenico said, stepping out of the car.

  I entered the house and reached my bedroom, slipping into my bed and quickly falling asleep.

  The subsequent days were identical. Some days I spent in bed. Others, I went to the beach. Domenico tried making me eat, but it was no use. I just wouldn’t have anything. I wandered around the house, looking for something—anything—that would prove Massimo was there. I exchanged emails with Mom, but I couldn’t talk to her—I knew I wouldn’t be able to fool her, and that she’d immediately know that something was amiss. I watched Polish TV, which Massimo had to be ordered installed in my bedroom. At times I tried watching the Italian channels, but I still understood next to nothing.
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  And if that wasn’t enough, all local tabloids and websites published the photo from the banquet—the one in which the Man in Black kissed me on the seafront. They were all captioned: “Who Is the Sicilian Potentate’s Mysterious New Companion?” Most articles also mentioned my dance skills.

  Days passed, and I felt it was about time to go back to Poland. I called Domenico, asking him to pack only those things I had brought with me from Warsaw. I wouldn’t take anything that would remind me of the Man in Black.

  Online, I found a cozy studio on the outskirts of Warsaw and rented it. What would come next? I had no idea, but I didn’t care, as long as I stopped hurting so much.

  The next morning, I was woken by the sound of the alarm clock. I drank a cup of cocoa, which I found on the night table, and turned on the TV. Today’s the day, I thought. A while later, Domenico opened the door and sent me a sad smile.

  “Your plane leaves in four hours.” He sat down on the edge of the bed. “I’ll miss you,” he said, taking my hand. I squeezed it, feeling my eyes welling with tears.

  “I know. Me too.”

  “I’ll go check if everything’s ready,” Domenico said, getting up.

  I stayed in bed, staring dumbly at the TV, skipping channels. I settled on some news before going to the bathroom.

  “The head of the Sicilian Mafia was shot in Naples. The young Italian was widely considered one of the most dangerous…” I stormed out of the bathroom, back to the TV. The screen was showing a montage of scenes from the place of the incident—including two body bags and a black SUV. A hot, scalding feeling behind my sternum came next. I couldn’t breathe. Then, a sharp pain, like someone stabbing my heart with a knife. I tried screaming but didn’t manage even a croak. I fell to the floor, unconscious.

  CHAPTER 11

  Iopened my eyes. The sun illuminated so brightly that I could barely see. I raised my hand to cover my eyes and inadvertently jerked on the IV tube. What the hell? As soon as my eyes became accustomed to the light, I took a careful look around. All the equipment around me suggested I was in a hospital.