Lose Yourself (The Desires Unlocked Trilogy Part Two)

by Evie Blake

  ‘No harm to keep him waiting . . . I am in charge tonight,’ Antonella declares, as she saunters out of the reception area of Leonardo’s club and down the black marbled corridor.

  ‘Well, now, that is debatable,’ Valentina counters, catching up with her, ‘since this is my scenario you are a part of.’

  ‘Oh, yes, one of your erotic compositions.’ Antonella spins around, her eyes gleaming. ‘You see you have to bring me to London, seeing as I am one of the stars of the show!’

  Inside the Velvet Underworld, all is as Valentina left it this afternoon when she set up the shoot, apart from the fact that the hammock she constructed is now occupied. Tonight she is extending her pictorial study of the dominatrix, using Antonella, as usual, as the main protagonist. She managed to persuade Leonardo to let her create her own version of a harness-cum-hammock, hung above the four-poster bed. She has removed all elements of crimson or purple from the area around the bed, covering its surface with a pristine white sheet. She’s taken down the heavy drapes and replaced them with mosquito netting that flutters in the candlelight. She has two arc lights positioned at either corner of the room, throwing dramatic shadows of the hammock across the walls and ceiling.

  She has spent weeks finding the right material for her hammock. This picture is so important in the series because she is finally managing to get over her aversion to the whole dominatrix scene. Although she has learnt to respond to various levels of pleasurable pain herself as a submissive, she still struggles to find the inflicting of pain on someone else erotic, despite the fact that Leonardo tells her she is being selfish about it – that those participating want to feel these extreme sensations. She still shudders when she remembers the first time she went into the Velvet Underworld. It has only been through Antonella that she has been able to understand a little about the turn-on of being a dominatrix.

  ‘It’s not just about power,’ her friend told her. ‘It’s about control. It’s a big responsibility to know how far to go, especially if they are wearing a gag and can’t speak. You have to be able to read their bodies . . . You need to be incredibly sensitive.’

  ‘But how do you find it erotic?’ Valentina had asked her. ‘It just doesn’t turn me on.’

  ‘Well, that’s you, and that’s OK. What I like about it is that I can design my own fantasy. It’s not about hurting men, Valentina. You know I love men. It’s about seeing the vulnerability inside a man – his fragility. I love that.’

  It was when she explained it like this that Valentina began to get it. And so she set about creating a scene that revealed the fragile core of a man’s sexuality, rather than his masochistic side. She wasn’t sure how it would turn out at all.

  She made her hammock out of sheaths of ivory silk. Antonella’s partner for tonight is already lying within, face down, the contours of his naked body visible through the silk.

  ‘Oh, nice, Valentina . . . It matches you,’ Antonella whispers, indicating Valentina’s backless ivory all-in-one, tied with a single silk ribbon.

  Valentina picks up her camera from where she left it earlier; the weight of it in her hands calms the frantic beat of her heart. She cannot help it but, every time she is in this room, she feels a little frightened. Maybe it’s looking at all the paraphernalia on the walls: the whips and riding crops, the chains and heavy, rough ropes.

  ‘Remember what I told you to do?’ she whispers to Antonella.

  Her friend nods. ‘Sure, but I am free to go with my instincts, right?’

  Valentina nods in resigned agreement. Antonella sometimes stretched the artistic limits of Valentina’s photography.

  Antonella strides over to the bed and stands on top of it. She is a little shaky at first – her heels are incredibly high, after all – but she manages to regain her balance quite quickly. She is now standing over the man in the hammock, looking down at him. It is her current lover, Mikhail, another artist and experimental spirit, just like Antonella.

  Valentina takes a shot of her just regarding him, contemplating what she is going to do. She says nothing yet, and Valentina prefers this. She finds most of the taunting phrases of the dominatrix are cliché and frankly not sexy at all.

  Mikhail is face down in the hammock. Valentina watches Antonella as she strokes his naked back and bottom, her fingers pushing through his leg hair. She begins to massage his buttocks with her hands, pushing into his firm flesh and circling again and again. She takes her finger and draws it up and down between his two cheeks and then she pushes them apart, and begins to massage him more deeply inside. Valentina hears Mikhail groan, she guesses, in pleasure. Antonella stops abruptly.

  ‘Do you know what I am going to do to you?’ she hisses at Mikhail. She climbs off the bed and circles the room, inspecting some of the whips and crops hanging on the wall. Mikhail is straining to see her, but he is hardly able to move in the tight hammock. He doesn’t even acknowledge Valentina’s presence.

  Antonella finds what she wants and climbs back on to the bed. She totters on the mattress, clutching in one of her hands a long rubber toy, with a curved end, and in the other, a tube of gel. She squirts some of the gel on to Mikhail, and begins to massage his buttocks while, very carefully, very slowly, she begins to insert the instrument into her lover. Mikhail inhales sharply and Valentina watches Antonella working away, bringing her lover closer and closer to the edge. It is beginning to affect her, watching this woman controlling this man, and Valentina can feel herself soften. She wonders if this is something she and Leonardo could try, and the thought surprises her since she has been thinking of no one but Theo since she found out about the exhibition in London.

  Antonella has brought Mikhail as far as she wants to, and she removes the plug, leaving him begging for more. She bends down and kisses him on the lips.

  ‘Oh, no, my sweet,’ she says to him. ‘You have to watch me now.’

  Antonella begins to pull at the silk hammock and, just as Valentina planned, the sheaths of material part so that she is able to pull his nipples free, pinching each one with her long nails, before freeing his cock. It is hard and ready for her, and she bends down and presses her lips to it as Mikhail shudders.

  Antonella lets go of him and drops to her knees. She crawls under him and lies on her back on the bed right beneath him. The hammock is slung low and he is so close to her, yet not close enough. His cock is just centimetres away from her pussy. She pulls her red G-string off and opens up her legs, completely lost in her persona. Such a performer, Valentina’s friend is. She begins to touch herself and, as she does so, Mikhail manages to free his arm, so that he brings his hand around to grip his cock. Valentina snaps away as her friend and her lover masturbate together. She is trying not to get too turned on, but it is hard not to feel it. She suppresses her primal urge to join them on the bed. Really, it would just be far too complicated to sleep with Antonella as well.

  The two of them climax in synchronicity and Valentina catches a shot of Mikhail’s seed as it marks her friend, gleaming in the spotlight, like stardust on her stomach.

  Valentina gathers her things and backs out of the room. Now she should leave them in private. Her last glimpse is of Mikhail tumbling out of the hammock on top of the bed, as Antonella shrieks with glee.

  She steps into the corridor at exactly the same time as Leonardo walks out of the Dark Room, the most sacred chamber inside the club where Leonardo’s clients are able to act out those deepest fantasies. He is naked, apart from a black satin mask over his eyes. His skin is shiny with oil and sweat.

  ‘Been working hard?’ Valentina nods towards the steel door, finding it hard not to sound cheeky.

  ‘As always,’ her friend answers. ‘How did that go?’

  ‘Well . . . yes . . . I think it went well.’

  ‘Did you join in?’

  She can sense that her nipples are still erect against the slightness of her silk all-in-one.

  ‘God, no. I have no desire to sleep with Antonella, for some reason.’


  ‘Talks too much,’ Leonardo says.

  The two of them stand in the corridor and Valentina knows she should move, but she can’t help noticing Leonardo’s reaction to her near-naked presence.

  ‘It did turn me on, though . . .’ she whispers.

  ‘Maybe we can try that some time,’ Leonardo says, taking a step towards her, and she feels his naked cock brush against her stomach. ‘Would you like to dominate me?’

  ‘I think I prefer it the other way around,’ she says, bringing her hand down to touch him. He takes his cue and pulls the string of her all-in-one so that it slides off her body. She is naked and all his as he puts his hand between her legs and touches her.

  ‘Ah, my dear Valentina; always ready for me,’ he says stroking her tenderly before suddenly spinning her around and pushing her up against the wall.

  One of the club rules is, ‘No sex outside of the safety of the rooms.’ As Leonardo himself has said countless times, his club is not a brothel or some Berlinesque fetish club. His place is distinctly Italian: explicit yet always with some decorum; always behind closed doors. And yet right now he is breaking his own cardinal rule and Valentina wants him to. She is in such a state about going to London, and confused over whether she should try to contact Theo, that she needs to abandon all normality, even if for an instant. She pushes her backside against him and he takes her wrists in one hand and holds them tightly behind her. She presses against the cool wall and her body begs for him to fill her. She wants him to go so deep inside her tonight.

  Leonardo slams into her, and she answers with a groan. She realises she was more turned on by Antonella and Mikhail’s game than she thought. She is already quivering around Leonardo, aching for him to go further and further. Their coupling doesn’t last for long, but it is intense and primal – outlawed sex. Leonardo thrusts in and out of her and she responds in beat to him. She is climbing, climbing, and together they come suddenly, sliding down the wall as one and collapsing on to the floor, curled up around each other.

  Valentina leans over and removes Leonardo’s mask. His eyes are closed and he is breathing heavily.

  ‘What was all that about?’ she asks. ‘We’re not supposed to do it here.’

  He opens his eyes, looks apologetic.

  ‘I know . . . I don’t know what possessed me . . . Sorry . . .’

  She kisses him on the cheek. ‘Don’t be silly; I wanted to do it as much as you.’

  He pulls her up to her feet. ‘Let’s take a bath, drink some mint tea and calm down.’

  Valentina reclines in the bubbling waters of the hammam pool. She lets fragrant steam waft over her body. She hasn’t felt this relaxed in weeks. Leonardo is opposite her in the water. He turns to pour some mint tea out of a little teapot balanced on the side of the pool, and offers her a steaming glass. She takes the glass in both hands and sips delicately, watching her friend closely. There is something wrong, she can tell. His hands are shaking as he hands her the tea and he is refusing to look her in the eyes.

  ‘What is it, Leonardo?’ she asks.

  He sighs and looks up at her, pushing his hand through his thick curly hair and away from his forehead so that she can see tiny beads of perspiration glistening on his skin.

  ‘I’m thinking of closing down the club,’ he suddenly announces.

  Valentina is so shocked that she almost chokes on her tea.

  ‘You can’t be serious!’ she exclaims, still coughing. ‘You’re doing so well.’

  ‘That’s the problem; too many people know about it.’

  Valentina thinks instantly of Antonella. Ever since her friend was introduced to Leonardo’s private club, she hasn’t stop telling people about it every time they go out in Milan.

  ‘I’m sorry about Antonella; she’s got such a big mouth,’ Valentina says.

  Leonardo puts down his tea and sinks lower into the water, so that only his head is bobbing above the bubbles. ‘I wanted to keep it exclusive but now more and more want to join—’

  ‘You could expand,’ Valentina interrupts, putting down her glass of tea and sinking beneath the bubbles as well.

  ‘I don’t want to . . . It’s too complicated.’

  ‘It’s such a shame. It’s good for Milan to have somewhere like this . . .’

  ‘I am sure someone else will fill the gap.’ Leonardo pauses as if he wants to say something else. Yet, instead, he submerges himself under the water, so all Valentina can see is his unfocused outline waving beneath her. She can’t believe that Leonardo wants to shut down. What will she do, if she can’t come here?

  He emerges from the water, shaking his head like a wet dog and spraying Valentina with droplets of water. She splashes back, but she can see Leonardo isn’t in a playful mood. He looks serious.

  ‘There’s more, isn’t there?’ she asks instinctively.

  ‘Raquel wants to have a baby,’ he says bluntly. ‘So you see, this place is not the best environment for a child.’

  ‘You’re going to have a baby!’

  Valentina feels a surge of disappointment. She can’t help it. Not another one of her friends ‘settling down’! And Leonardo, of all people.

  ‘She’s not pregnant yet,’ he says. ‘We’re just trying at the moment. You see, she’s thirty-six now. She’s worried she’ll run out of time.’

  ‘My God, she doesn’t look it.’ Valentina thinks of the last time she saw Raquel’s perfect figure and cellulite-free thighs. She had assumed they were about the same age.

  Leonardo takes Valentina’s hand and pulls her towards him through the water. ‘She says that she has always dreamt of being a mother.’

  She floats in the water in front of him. She cannot think of what to say.

  ‘You look shocked,’ Leonardo says finally. ‘Do you not think I’ll make a good father?’

  ‘I think you’ll be brilliant. Look at the way you’ve taken care of me . . .’

  He smiles ruefully. ‘Mmm, that sounds a bit perverse, Valentina.’

  She can’t be happy for him. She can’t help it. She knows she is being selfish but she doesn’t want Leonardo to have a baby with Raquel.

  ‘But what will you do if you close down the club?’ she says, trying to cast some doubt upon his decision.

  ‘Believe it or not, I do have other skills outside of the sex industry.’

  ‘I never doubted it,’ she says softly.

  He grins at her. ‘I am a skilled masseur . . . which of course you know all about. I’ve also got into yoga lately. I think I’d like to train to teach.’

  The last thing Valentina imagined Leonardo might be interested in is yoga. He just doesn’t seem the meditative type. She can’t picture it at all: Leonardo standing on his head.

  ‘Isn’t yoga a bit chilled out and slow for you?’

  ‘It depends what kind of yoga you are doing, Valentina. There is nothing slow about an ashtanga class, nothing chilled out about bikram yoga . . .’

  Valentina can’t quite believe him. Gaby practised yoga for a while and tried to teach her some postures, but Valentina found the whole thing boring. She had no patience for it.

  ‘If you say so . . .’ she mutters, drifting away from him in the water, letting its scented ripples caress her.

  ‘You should try it sometime. It’s really great for your sex life,’ Leonardo says.

  ‘My sex life is doing just fine, as you know.’

  Valentina’s fingers are pruning. She stands up in the pool, letting the water slide down her supple body.

  ‘So, when are you off to London?’ Leonardo says, but he is not looking at her face, he is looking at her body.

  ‘Monday.’ She cautiously steps out of the pool, turning her back to Leonardo. She doesn’t want him to read her expression. ‘I’ve been meaning to ask . . .’ Despite herself, her voice has a slight tremble.

  ‘Do you have Theo’s phone number in London?’

  Leonardo says nothing for a second. She hunts around for a towel, confused by her spon
taneous question. She is not going to actually call Theo but, just in case she changes her mind, there’s no harm having it in her phone, is there? She hears Leonardo getting out of the water. She decides not to turn around. For some reason she feels a little shy, even though they know every inch of each other’s bodies.

  ‘Sure,’ Leonardo says finally. ‘I’ll text it to you later.’

  She wraps her towel around herself, ties it tightly and turns around to face him. Leonardo is wearing a white towelling robe. His black curly hair hangs in wet locks. She takes him in. When he is a father, he will never want to play with her again. She doesn’t need to ask him that to know. Yet it doesn’t matter anyway, does it? They have never been a couple, and they can still be friends after he has a baby. Even so, she knows that she will never be able to make demands on his friendship in the same way that she has until now. All of a sudden, she wishes it were Leonardo, not Antonella, who was accompanying her to London. If he were by her side, then surely she wouldn’t be tempted to call up Theo?

  ‘Will you come over to London for the opening of the exhibition?’ she asks her friend tentatively.

  Leonardo looks surprised. ‘Maybe. If you need me, I’ll come.’ He steps forward. ‘Don’t worry, Valentina.’ He hugs her tightly. ‘Why do you always look so sad?’

  She hides her face in the safety of his towel-clad chest and breathes in his scent. ‘I don’t know.’ Her whisper is muffled by their proximity. She feels so protected inside Leonardo’s hug that a part of her wants to hide in Milan and not face the test of London and her dilemma over whether to contact Theo or not. Surely her ex-lover has moved on by now? To call him would be pointless. And yet there is an ache inside her heart that tells her otherwise. Could a love like theirs die so fast?

  The light of Venice is gone. Even when it rains, Maria feels there is a luminous quality to her home city. She didn’t notice it until she left it behind her, but she has been thinking of it on her long journey, all the way to England.

  It is spring in London, yet the sky is a dank grey and the air smells empty. The salty scents of home have evaporated. She walks alongside trees thick with cherry blossom, yet she cannot smell them. She is assaulted by noise. Cars: she is not used to them. The sheer aggression of them: honking, screeching to a halt, accelerating down the road. And the choking pollution of their fumes fills her lungs, making her feel poisoned. She hates them. Her mother had compared the boats of Venice to cars, but they aren’t the same at all. The boats are at one with their surroundings, gliding down the canals, rocking along the waves of the lagoon. These cars and trucks and buses, they are in opposition to any nature there might be in the city.