“Because they control them.”
“Exactly. And you're made to control; it's in your nature. You weren't born to conform to the rules, you are not able to act according to patterns, to move within a perfect circle. No, Krum, you're unpredictable, unmanageable, you hate rigidity.”
“So why do you always hint at the idea of electing me as a member of the Sect?”
“I would like someone to come after me.”
Is he suggesting that I become his heir?
“You're only forty-eight years old,” I remark.
“But you're twenty-nine and you are younger.”
“I could die before you.”
He smiles, takes the cigar and inhales a small amount of smoke.
“Let's not talk about this nonsense anymore! I'm immortal,” And he drops the subject.
I insist on informing him about what I discovered during my imprisonment. It's precisely why I spent a year in jail. Leonardo had me arrested for theft in order to get me into the same structure as a famous politician. The politician in question is a brown nose of one of Leonardo's rivals .
The Father has decided to become a candidate for mayor of Venice. He is trying to find evidence to confirm the bonds of his rival with mafia associations. This project is important to him, not only for the role he would cover, but also because he believes in the country and what one can do to improve it. The spirit of our Sect is just this: to improve our living conditions.
Ours.
He listens to me carefully while he notes down some names that I give him in his agenda. It was not easy to memorize everything in my head. In prison I could not absolutely write down what I found out. I had to record everything in my mind, just to inform him of my discoveries. I feel proud of myself because I remember everything and am even more satisfied with my work when I notice how Leonardo becomes more and more proud. The fact that he appreciates what I do for him gives me satisfaction. The only way I have to pay him back for his consideration is to obey his orders.
And then SHE comes to mind.
Damn!
How can it be that she pops into my mind at least ten times a day?
Damn bitch.
Leonardo stands up and I do the same. He stretches out his hand to me, and when I take it, he pulls me to his chest and gives me a quick pat on my shoulder. I feel that this little gesture hides all his gratitude. Sometimes words are enough to enchant his interlocutors. It's one of his extraordinary talents, but in this case he seems to have lost his loquacity.
“Thank you,” he whispers.
“Anything for the Sect.” I step back and leave him to his business, and before I open the door, I hear him say,
“Take a look at your bank account.”
He smiles slyly. My reward will have five zeros.
I go down the corridors of the villa, the polished marble floor almost reflects my figure. The noise of my steps echoes up to the high ceilings embellished with Renaissance frescoes. When I came here the first time, Leonardo told me I would have lived inside a museum. I had never been to a museum and at the time didn't understand the meaning, but when I walked into the Temple, I realized that the word museum was equivalent of beauty. I know all the paintings of the villa, I remember the names of the artists who carved the light marble statues of the corridors, the architects who designed the enormous opening of the dome in the entrance. I'm under it right now. I stop, I raise my head and look at the blue sky spotted by some clouds. It's like the Pantheon in Rome, amazing. The dome has a circular opening that allows the outside light to illuminate the interior. A dream. Even my passion for art comes from the Father.
As I focus on the dome, I hear Oscar's voice echoing in the large rooms, when I see him materialize before me enthusiastically.
“Are you not ready yet?” He gives me a friendly punch on my chest and pushes me away. “Go on, go to your room, take a shower and be ready by nine, then, well... you know!”
Just when I start to answer I notice Manuel advancing. If there is someone I detest in the Sect, it's him.
A big fat brown nose.
He doesn't have a brain, he doesn't respect the brothers and I don't think he even respects himself.
“Krum Botev.” What is it, does he refresh my memory? I know what my name is.
“Manuel.”
“Welcome back.” What a liar!
I don't thank him either. I still remember the way he tried to… Shit!
That woman is really bothering me. I have to forget and come back to reality, I have had enough of her.
Manuel passes his hand over his shaved head. The tattoos on his knuckles attract my attention. He didn't have them before.
“Tonight will you join us?” Oscar asks. What the fuck!
I squint at my friend. He knows I don't like to be surrounded by idiots and I'm trying to make him realize he's wrong to have invited Manuel, but then I realize I've been away for a year and that Oscar has probably connected with people other than me.
You were not there, your life was on standby.
I can't blame Oscar for having socialized with Manuel.
“I wouldn't miss the party for anything in the world,” says the giant.
The asshole has become pretty big, though he looks like a Pitbull. In spite of it all I overtake him in height and this gives me some security. Trivial, but I know physical superiority annoys him.
He keeps on looking at me challengingly. I don't understand why, after so long, he still needs to counter me. Years ago I beat him up so badly that the Father had to punish me as an example. But it was also my fault if he had hurt her.
Bitch, get out of my head!
“I'm going to get ready,” I say, wanting terribly to disappear. “See you later.”
I give Oscar a slap and head to the large staircase leading to the bedrooms. I go up to our floor, the floor of the guardians, and I am amazed to find my room exactly as I had left it. Not that I thought of it differently but…
Fuck!
A panther comes out of the bathroom. I am petrified in front of a perfectly curved mulatto woman.
My welcome back party has just begun.
Oscar, I love you.
I take a couple of steps toward the chocolate-colored body, wrapped in a bodysuit that is more decorative than covering. She nears the bed. I stalk her as if I was hunting her down. She escapes me, she runs away, but our gaze is stuck on each other.
They must have told her that I like to catch my prey. Knowing that they had told her is already causing a feverish excitement. My first fuck after a year of jacking off has to be just as I want it: wild.
The pursuit ends soon. The beautiful mulatto bumps into the wall. I caught her. Now I do what I want with her. I grab the hair behind her neck and uncover her neck. She doesn't have a scent that stimulates me, she has no scent. But who cares! I pull harder and she pants.
Well, it'll be worse.
I pull on her and push her with violence to the floor. The sound of my knees hitting the floor send the blood flow right down there, where I am already amazingly hard. She gazes at me with her head turned upwards as I watch her from above.
She waits for an order.
I bring my fingers to the fly of my jeans, unbutton it, in a second, I flip it out. I grabbed the hair from the back of her neck again, grab my erection and smack it on her lips, spreading the drops of excitement along the line of her mouth. I caress myself as I hurl her curls. She has red eyes, I'm certainly exaggerating in pulling her hair. My breath becomes rhythmic, my legs become stiff. I massage myself a little more and press my dick on her lips, forcing her to open them. She responds lustfully and… Oh, yes, I jam it in her mouth.
Down, Deep down into her throat.
“Choke for me, whore”. I close my eyes, but I am not saying it to the woman.
* * *
Sofia, Bulgaria, nineteen years earlier.
Something breaks. It is the usual beer bottle, I think. The crumbling glass is not the only noise
.
Screams.
Heartbreaking screaming.
No, not yet.
“Krum.” Dad's voice seems to come directly from hell.
Before running away, mom always used to say that he was the Devil and when the Devil calls, or you answer or subdue his anger.
I jump off the bed and walk barefoot toward him. I try to dodge the waste of the day before, of the day before it and of the previous day. It stinks and the buzzing of the flies seems to drill into my eardrums.
“Krum,” He shouts again as a woman weeps and begs him not to do it.
“I'm here,” I say, from the edge of the living room.
I rub my eyes and focus. The woman is on the floor, her face has red spots on it.
It's blood.
“Sit down!” He orders.
I do as he asks and go to the couch. I slap a beer can and sit on the clean corner.
I must look at him or he'll punish me. Dad says it's part of life and that it will be useful for our work.
Dad says this is how to do it.
Dad explains things to me.
Dad wants me to watch attentively.
Dad told me that soon I will have to do it too and that these things can be done between children and adults, men and women, men and men. That is what he says.
“Watch,” he insists.
The woman looks scared. The girl that was here yesterday wasn't scared. She was happy. This one cries, this one has blood on her lips. Why does she have blood on her lips? Maybe she fell down, I think.
No.
Bang!
She didn't fall. Dad slaps her.
I open my eyes and feel my heart beating hard. The other times it was fun, I liked watching. Dad said I could touch myself. The first time I was ashamed, then - when I saw dad happy - I did it and I liked it. It was nice. But today... today I don't like it so much.
Bang!
Why does he slap her? If she doesn't like it, why does she have to stay here?
“Dad!”
He is focused and can't hear me; she shouts too loudly. I would like to ask him to slow down. It's clear he is hurting her.
I won't like it this time.
I would prefer to go back to sleep.
“Look, Krum. You have to watch!”
Dad realizes that I bowed my head. I must look at him.
“Sometimes it will be this way,” he says.
“Why?” I ask.
“Because some people like it this way.”
“Not me.”
“You have not seen it yet.”
Dad is right. How can I know whether I like it or not if I have not seen it yet? I pout, I'm not so sure I can enjoy it like the other time.
But when I see Dad tearing off the woman's skirt, denuding her, I get the strange feeling down below.
The woman continues to protest and Dad keeps her wrists fixed on the floor. I look at how he moves his hands. Dad is strong, I would like to be as strong as he is. I wish I could keep a woman still as he does. But she cries. I don't like her crying. It's nicer when the woman caresses him.
“See, Krum?” He points out the hairy part of the woman.
He put his hand right there and I sigh. Then he raises his hand and makes a show of it.
“She's excited,” he says. “She loves it.”
I open my mouth. I'm incredulous. So the woman likes it! I don't understand. How does she like it if she cries?
Dad turns the woman belly down and while he is taking off his clothes, I focus on her eyes. She has her face pressed on the floor. She will get dirty. It's dirty, it's always dirty. But I look better and I see that even though she has tears in her eyes, her lips are open and she sighs in the same way the woman yesterday did. She has a face that looks… She looks ready.
Dad keeps his cock in his hand. It's big - mine isn't so big yet - and puts it behind the woman's ass. I'm a bit confused because she protests, but when Dad does that thing, the woman's screams show no longer terror but pleasure.
Without realizing it, I already have my hands inside my underwear. She looks at me, looks at what I'm doing. It seems she likes it.
I touch myself and I like it.
I look at her and I like it.
Dad pushes inside her and I like it.
I want to do it, too.
4
AMBRA
“Please, don't give me the third degree. Don't give me the third degree.”
I keep repeating in my head as I hand over my coat to Irina.
“Welcome home, Miss Ambra.”
I smile, and the voices coming from the living room make me understand mom has guests.
I'm safe. For the moment.
The storm of questions about my session with the psychologist is delayed for a few hours. I would like to run away and take a swim in the pool, but first I have to say hello to the wealthy women's club or mom will become hysterical when they leave.
“Oh, here she is,” she squeals, noticing me at the doorway of the living room.
Every time it is the same story. She shows me to her friends as if I were a wonderful prize that life has given her. It would be great for a daughter, if it was not for her talking about how perfect I am, how well dressed I am and the jewelry she buys and how I can be a good match for her friends' sons.
It's so embarrassing!
“Hello,” I say cordially.
The ladies, drinking some herbal tea, nod their heads. They are all the exact photocopy of the other. Each of them competes to see who lifts her chin more elegantly, to see who tosses their hair in the sexiest way, to see who shows the most slender legs. My mother is certainly the captain of the wealthy women's club.
“Honey, do you want to have tea with us?” She asks.
“No, thanks, I'm really tired. I'll go and take a swim.”
“I heard you graduated the first in your class,” says the lady… mmh, the one with the platinum blonde short hair.
I don't have time to open my mouth when mom replies in my place. I cannot help but turn up my nose. Whatever!
“Ambra was the first of her course. She had the same grade for her entire college career: A. Always. I'm proud of her. Sometimes I wonder who has she taken after.”
The ladies smile at her witty remark, but I'm sure they think I didn't take after my mother.
“She took after Alberto,” observes a lady with a snobbish air. Snobbish? They're all snobs. “She has the mind of her father and the beauty of her mother.”
My mother seems to be happier to know that I inherited her beauty rather than her intelligence.
I smile, thanking silently.
“Oh, poor Alberto,” says another, “he was really a great man. Only the good die young. His foundation has done so much for that village in Africa. What was its name, Clara?”
“I don't remember, it has a strange name.”
Of course she doesn't remember it! That foundation didn't make money. She remembers only the companies that produce profit.
Suddenly I can no longer smile, not even fake. Whenever somebody compares me to my father, I feel I don't deserve it. He really was a great man; I'm just his daughter. I am not and will be never able to do the great things he was able to do.
I want to run away.
“I'll let you chat on,” I say, and I smack a light kiss on my mother's fresh cheek.
Go away, away, away. I'm bothered by those ladies.
In a flash, I leave the living room and run into my room, intending to get my swimsuit and my bathrobe. A refreshing swim in the pool will relieve the anxiety of the day.
Before I even get out of the room, I hear the cell phone ringing in my purse. I want to leave it there, but after sending out a myriad of CVs, I guess it could be a company that has evaluated my application. It may seem weird that a girl in my position, the heiress of an empire, sends CVs, but I do it only to show that I am responsible. It would be too easy to work in one of my companies, and then, to be honest, I have no ability. I have t
o start somewhere and a little bit of experience wouldn't hurt me. If mom finds out I have sent CVs around the world, she'll repudiate me.
I pick up the cell phone and the name of Emma is flashing. No work. My best friend is calling. Now, I am ruined, she probably has one of her absurdities in mind.
“Hello.”
“A sexy dress, a mask and desire to transgress,” she begins.
“Hello to you, too.”
“At 9 pm I'll pick you up, I have the tickets for an exclusive party, something transgressive!” She almost says it humming. Good for her that she always wants to experience. I don't care about these things at all.
“Emma, it was a heavy day and I don't want to be in the midst of people…”
“My best friend is so boring.”
“And my best friend is incorrigible.”
“If you and I weren't so different, it would be no fun.”
I cannot imagine how I would be if I had a pinch of her shamelessness. With my bathrobe and my swimsuit still in my arms, I flop on my bed and sigh.
“Are you whiffling?”
“What do you think?”
“A wind of boredom came over me.”
“What do you want, Emma? What do I have to do? Do I have to get drunk with you like the last time? I threw up badly and I have no intention of reliving that epic moment.”
“It's not my fault if you get drunk even on coca cola!”
“You corrected it with rum,” I remind her.
“Just a little.”
I am biting my tongue because I'm going to put up with her and part of me would like to shut up.
“Come on!” She screams. “It's Carnival. People come from all over the world to be part of the Carnival of Venice and you want to stay locked in your castle. I understand a real prince should climb up the tower, but if you don't go out, how are you going to meet a nice young man?”
“I don't care about your young men,” I reply, recalling the crowd of useless men that she has introduced to me.
“I have no intention of introducing you to anybody from my stables. Today we are going to a transgressive place. A place where even your expert friend has never been.” She repeated that word!
He wants it all Page 3