Dark Exposure

by Amy Isan

  He turns toward me and I catch a glimpse of his chest for the first time since we were in the hotel room. What kind of photographer is built like this? His olive-tanned skin is flawless, every inch more delicious than the last. For a moment, I forget about his anger, his violence, his lies. Hell, looking at his body is enough to make me forget my own name.

  Giovanni slips off his shoes and socks and sets them aside, making sure they're tidy and out of the way of any potential splashes. The leather on his shoes is shiny and polished.

  I can feel my wrist pulsing, but he can't know how much this is getting me going. I try my best to keep my eyes cold and distant, constantly averting from him and looking out the window whenever he catches me looking. He steps closer to the tub, his naked feet splashing lightly in some pooled water. I can smell him again, his scent is even more powerful without his shirt on. It's too much, and it's the last thing that breaks me down.

  I want him to climb into the tub and fuck me. I want that. More than I want him to leave. More than I want him to die. Right at this moment, there's nothing else swirling in my mind but that thought. That dream and image of him fucking me. Even if he locks me up in my room and takes me from behind, I'll take it.

  He yanks at his belt and undoes the buckle. He isn't going to beat me with it, is he? After pulling the notches free, he effortlessly slides his belt out from his slacks and he throws it behind him. It clatters against the drying rack and falls to the floor, the metal buckle clanging against the hard stone. He doesn't seem to care anymore. His hands go to his pants, and he undoes the hidden metal latch that holds the top of the zipper together. Soon, the zipper is lowered and his pants drop to his feet.

  Nothing is between us now but his underwear, and of course, that's when he grows contemplative. I stopped breathing through my nose long ago, opting to take shallow and ragged breaths through my gaping mouth instead. I had to make the trade off from smelling him to actually breathing. Between him and the steam, I could faint. Today has been too much for me to handle, and this is just sealing the deal.

  He's already got me calling him 'sir,' what will he demand next? I think I've read my fair share of books to get an idea of where this is all going, but fantasy isn't reality. This is toeing the line between nightmare and heaven. That surrealism keeps me distant. That's what keeps me from grabbing his wrists and pulling him into the tub. From making him yank his boxers off and letting me slide his cock into my mouth. It feels fucking dirty, but I can't stop thinking about it.

  He lowers himself to his knees and whispers something I don't catch. His lips move silently, and he lowers his gaze. His groomed hair falls to his face, the steam undoing his product, or is that sweat on his forehead? He dips his hand into the water and my breathing stops. He gropes my breast, and I feel a surge of cold-heat vibrate through me. He doesn't lift his head, and I safely bite back a moan from slipping out of my mouth.

  "I want you to call me, Master right now, Lily. Sir isn't enough. I'll count on you to decide the appropriate name."

  "Master..." I say, feeling silly and flushed with flame. "What are you doing...?"

  "Testing the water to see if it's the right temperature," he says. He gropes me and squeezes my nipple between his fingers, making me shiver. My knee splashes as it peeks out from the water. Water droplets lands on his arm and rolls down through the channels between his muscles. Some droplets get caught in his hair. He locks his eyes on mine and I can't hide myself anymore. There's something distant in his eyes, but it's powerful, and I can't stop looking. It feels like I'm staring into a crackling fire; the heat searing me but the flames too mesmerizing to look way from.

  His hand releases my breast and he taps his fingers on my submerged skin. The soap has made his touch like silk. I gasp a little as he rubs around my navel. My legs are squeezed tight together, but I flush just thinking about what he's planning.

  "Part your legs, Lily," he says. "I want to savor that sweetness of yours."

  "Yes, sir..." I feel myself hesitate, but I can't tell if I mean to. I slowly open my legs and separate my knees. He lets out a low chuckle, one that vibrates through the air and tickles me, waking something inside me. What am I doing? Letting him turn me into his play thing? It's the same laugh he had at the casino, the one that led me all the way here. I shouldn't be liking it. I should be pushing him away, keeping him from touching me. The idea should be revolting, but...

  "Ah... Master... you shouldn't... the servants..." I say as his hand cups me between my legs. I want him to keep pushing the envelope, especially after that growl he gave me sending me over the edge.

  He chuckles and slides his finger up along my folds and coaxes another moan out of me. I want to stop them from coming out, but I can't. In the war of confusion between my mind and body, my body is winning. He does it again and I moan louder, gasping in a large gulp of steam. His green eyes look like rusted copper now, and when they meet mine I'm an open book. I don't have the ability to hide myself from him.

  "There it is," he says suddenly. "That's the Lily I saw at the hotel." Without warning, he withdraws his finger from me, then his arm from the tub. Water splashes down from his elbow and drips into the bath. I'm flustered and bewildered.

  I stare up at him, his smile piercing me like an arrow. How could he just do that to me? Mixed with confusion and frustration, I can't bring myself to ask.

  "I just wanted to see if that flame was still in there, Lily," Giovanni says. Without another word, he gathers up his clothes and takes his leave, his naked feet slapping against the wet stone as he goes to the door. I want to throw my arm out of the tub and yell for him to come back, but before I can he's already slipped out the door. What the fuck was that? I'm all wound up. Not just with sexual frustration, but a million questions too.

  The water is cold now, and my fingers are wrinkled prunes. I brace my hands on the edge of the tub and raise myself to my feet before stepping out onto the hard tile. His smell lingers in the air, like he's still in the room. I grab the towel off the rack and dry myself off, moving from my face down to my legs. That's when I notice: He left his tie.

  I lean over and pick it up, the bright purple and dark stars that twinkle when you move it just so. It's covered in his cologne, and for some reason I refuse to even think about, I hang onto it. I wrap it around my leg like a garter and tie it off. That should keep it hidden under my clothes. I retrieve my blue dress and slip it on. I hope that armoire in the bedroom has underwear in it.

  I don't know his game. How will I behave around him next time? I was already left confused enough after I jerked him off in the hotel room, but now?

  Testing that flame? What did he mean by that? I touch my cheeks and feel the heat radiating from my skin, and I look into the mirror that stands near the door. I'm flushed, even my chest and legs. It has to be from the tub though, not the knot twisted in my chest.

  A few moments later, the two servants barge in again, their hands snapping like claws. They push me out of the bathroom and back into the hallway, before dragging me back to my room. I'm calling it mine now, what's wrong with me?

  They push me inside and lock the door. I turn and look at my dim room. At least I'm not shackled anymore. I move to the window and pull the shutters open, filling the room with the pale moonlight. Wrought-iron bars cover the window, but form a box about two feet wide, so I can lean out the window and breath in the fresh air. Dimly lit fields stretch for miles, and something shimmers on the horizon. The Mediterranean Sea?

  Unlike the dining room and bed cuffs, the metal on these bars is untouched. Not a single scratch mar the surface. They were either just installed, or never touched in the first place.

  I pull open a drawer and find a pair of underwear that are my size. All the clothes in the dresser are my size. Are all the women he kidnaps my build, or did he find out my measurements at some point and stock up? Both are too chilling to think about.

  Before climbing into bed, I slip on a shirt and a pair of underwear. I
t's much more comfortable than I remember.

  Giovanni Azzo. You're a wicked... strange man.

  — — —

  Sleep doesn't come as easily as I thought it would.

  I keep waking up and throwing my head up in terror, thinking that my hands are shackled to the bed. Thinking there's someone in my room, standing at the foot of the bed and grinning at me in the darkness. Is the door knob getting jiggled, or is it just wind whooshing through the iron bars outside the window? Footsteps sound outside, but not by my door. They sound like they're further, more muffled. Upstairs? Does this house have a second floor? I should have seen it from the courtyard, but Giovanni didn't really give me a chance to look. I was too busy trying to not trip over anything.

  I throw my pillow over my head and stretch my arms out, threading my elbows through the wooden slats at the head of the bed and scratching my wrists on the metal cuffs.

  In my flickering dreams, I'm soaking in the brass tub again. The steam has filled the room completely, and I can't see a thing. A thick layer of fog is ever-present, and impossible to penetrate. I stare up at Giovanni, who is completely naked for the first time, not just shirtless or just in his underwear. His smile is gentle, and he brushes my face with loving affection. He moves into the tub, splashing water over the sides like a cup that's been overfilled. After the water settles, it only drips down the rim and pitter-patters on the stone tile.

  Giovanni embraces me. Our naked bodies twist together. My hair is tangled up in his fingers as he rakes soap through my hair. I want to push him away, his body feels like it's burning me. I want to grab his face and kiss him, tasting his lips and tongue, but I can't. I'm frozen, as if I'm watching the events from above — out of body. His hands wander over my body, and as they slip between my thighs, I awake with a jolt.

  I stare down my body to find my hand cupped between my legs. The warmth is familiar, and after being continually teased, I'm starting to feel restless. I pull my hand away and try to ignore the deep throbbing that begs for release. It was sheltered away, hidden deep inside me, but now, like a wild animal, it's clawing its way to the surface and I don't know if I can stop it.

  I'm sweating and hot. I kick the blankets off the bed and pull off my shirt. I'm practically naked now, and really wish there was a ceiling fan in this room. The villa architecture is quaint, but would it have killed him to install a ceiling fan in his guest rooms?

  Guest rooms, now that's a good one. I sigh heavily and rise up out of bed. I barely feel tired anymore, but the outside world is still plunged in darkness. I wonder what time it is here compared to home. How many hours different could it be?

  I try and think, but can't recall any time I've ever even thought of time zones. God, most of the time I don't even have to worry about daylight savings. I know that the my home is about eight hours off from England, but I'm not in England... Nine hours, maybe? Does it matter? Besides the fact it might be day there, what else could be happening? Has anyone noticed or cared that I've been gone?

  Giovanni said I might as well not have existed, that no one would notice my car sitting in the parking lot at the casino. That my ex-boyfriend wouldn't come looking for me. That my family wouldn't even think of me. What's the use? What else should I do?

  I stare at the door of my room that leads out into the garden and courtyard. Is it locked? I climb out of bed and pad over to the door and try twisting the knob. It jiggles but doesn't budge. Of course, the servants already locked it. I should just be glad they didn't lock my wrists too.

  I turn on my heels and look out the window again. Not at the moon-lit grass and fields, but at the iron bars. Are they on every window in this place?

  They can't be. The bathroom window didn't have it, but it was also very small. Like a sliver of glass and wood. I might be able to squeeze out of it, but then what? I don't know Italian and who would help me? Judging by the view from my window, we could be miles from the nearest town. Miles... what does that even mean anymore? It isn't like I have any money to travel and get a ticket back home, anyway.

  All this, because I just wanted to try and spice up my life a little.

  I lay back down on the bed. The sheets are a bit damp from my cold sweat. A breeze finally passes through the iron bars and reaches my sticky skin, licking the heat from me in gentle waves. I exhale deeply and try to not think about the bathroom. I try not to think about Giovanni's tie that I still have wrapped around my thigh.

  My hands wander down my body and grab the loose ends of the tie and pull it loose. I bring it to my face and inhale deeply, and find his scent still attached to it. Whatever cologne he uses, if any, still lingers in the fabric. I take another deep breath and feel my body throb in response. I can't be actually getting off to this. What the hell is wrong with me?

  I throw the tie away and let it flutter to the ground next to the bed. I cross my arms and stare at the ceiling, then try and find the center, where a ceiling fan should be hanging. Before I try to sleep again, I decide I probably don't want his tie laying out in the open incase he comes in. Or worse, that one servant, Monica comes in.

  That bitch. How dare she say Giovanni wouldn't accept me? She said it like it was a bad thing, like I should want to be accepted. Fuck, if I'm not accepted, does that mean I get to go home? I don't know if I should fight to win his approval or to lose it.

  I snatch up the tie. I gently fold it into a square, then stand up and walk over to the dresser. I pull open the underwear drawer and shove the folded tie deep inside. I doubt anyone will be digging around in my underwear anytime soon, at least.

  I climb back into bed and close my eyes, then I focus on my breathing. I push away all the wrong and twisted thoughts that try and intrude. I push away the burning sensation I can feel coming from the armoire, where the tie is hidden. I can't. I can't touch it again. I won't.

  After enough time passes, sleep finally embraces me again.

  CHAPTER 5

  Dawn breaks with the annoying chirping of a songbird I don't recognize. I don't jolt out of bed, but slowly open my eyes against the bright sunlight pouring into the room. When I was first brought here, I was given no light at all, just the darkness and my imagination. Last night I had some dim light from the moon coming in, and now the sun lets me see the whole room as it actually is. And without Giovanni impatiently waiting for me, I can actually take a look around. The wooden decor is, without a doubt, hand carved. I pull open some drawers and find them all dove-tailed with care. I couldn't imagine what something like this weights, or how old it might be.

  I pick out some clothes: a bra, shorts and a plain yellow t-shirt. The mirror next to the door is only helpful in reminding me that I'm missing my makeup kit. I thought I was supposed to be getting dolled up for some photo shoot thing?

  A knock on the door, but only out of some kind of habit or courtesy, because immediately following the sound is the scrape of the key going into the lock and the shift of the knob. The door is pushed open and Giovanni is suddenly at the threshold of my room. He tucks his hands behind his back and smiles smugly. He looks almost plastered with satisfaction, like he's won some kind of bet or something. But, like plaster does, it looks like a mask, too.

  He's dressed in a suit, just like always, but this one is a deep, abyssal blue. I've only ever seen him in his black suit. Maybe it got soaked in the bathroom last night? Who am I kidding, he probably has two dozen suits. I shake my head and feign a smile for him.

  "Good morning, Lily. I see you're up bright and early."

  I still don't know what time it is exactly, but I resist asking. I nod. "Yes, sir. I didn't sleep very well." The sounds of that word still feels false on my tongue, but I'm almost... getting used to it... which is unsettling in my own, private way.

  He shoots me a smile and then surveys my outfit. I stare down at my shirt and shorts and look at him expectantly.

  "Is that what you're planning on wearing today?" he says. I know the answer I should give him, but I already settled on th
e outfit.

  "I... thought it would be fine... it was hot last night..." I stiffen, and add, "sir."

  He shakes his head and clicks his tongue against his teeth, and I actually feel embarrassed. How the hell can he do this to me? I don't even know him and he can make me feel bad about a perfectly cute outfit with a shake of his head. "That won't do at all, we have business to do today."

  He steps closer to me, breaking the threshold into my room. I almost wish he hadn't, because now it feels like he can do anything. At least before, I felt like I had some control over the situation, like I could slam the door back in his face. He could just open it again, but even that sliver of power felt good to have a hold of for the fleeting moment I had it.

  "You'll have to change, immediately." He doesn't move any closer, but he also doesn't twitch to leave like I would like.

  "Right now?" I ask. I try to withdraw the question as soon as his face changes, and I turn to open the armoire and find something else. What does he want me to wear? Should I ask? Or is that breaking some kind of rule? Why have these clothes in here if I can't even wear them? Remember... he said Monica was right about me. I can't prove her right, even if it is just out of needless spite. I scan the dresses that are hung inside the dresser and try and pick one out that might please him. Yesterday he wore black and made me wear blue so...

  I pull out a black dress and hold it up again my body, hiding my shirt and shorts from his view. He nods subtly and I don't move. "Is this acceptable, sir?"