Roxana

(Trigger warning! Sex, violence, non-consensual stuff).

I look at myself again in the small mirror of the container bathroom while I tie the red ribbon that I found lying around, in my silver-blond hair.

It feels like a jest and I go along with the irony. Anything just to not think too deeply about the situation. It's like wrapping the damn gift I am supposed to be, to cater to a too-rich guy's whims.

I have naturally pale skin and light green eyes, the color of mint mingled with a bit of turquoise, like a mountain lake, as my dad used to say. I used to think of myself as pretty, some time ago when I still cared what people thought of my looks. Now I am not even sure it's a good thing to be pretty.

As I don't have another dress, I am wearing the same clothes as yesterday. The ivory chiffon is shimmering in the moonlight as I cross the garden in heels.

To add a bit of color I have painted my nails and my lips red, with Lisa's lipstick and nail polish. I used to like nail polish so much in the past. Now I feel ridiculous looking at my hands, ridiculous, like the ribbon in my hair that fits the color of my lipstick.

Clack, clack. The heels clatter on the marble floor of the villa. It echoes strangely in the empty hallway as I make my way to Stefano Messina's office.

It's quarter past twelve and the house seems deserted except for the two bodyguards that I have encountered on my way, one at the entrance of the villa and one at the entrance of his office. None of them asked any questions, they just stepped to the side and opened the door for me.

Everyone seems to be aware of what's going on but nobody seems to mind. Is their boss also aware? Is another sermon going to wait for me tomorrow morning on the scaffolding? I will let myself be surprised.

Since the bodyguard just opened the door for me I step inside without knocking.

Stefano is sitting at a big mahogany desk sipping whiskey from a heavy crystal glass.

His dark brown hair is tied back. He is wearing gray slacks and a white shirt that has the first three buttons undone.

He is undoubtedly handsome and his chestnut brown eyes sparkle when he sees me.

OK, Roxi, it's on.

"Hello, sir. Christian told me you want to discuss adjustments to the project. Tonight," I say as expressionless as I can. I am not sure what exactly to expect; still, unwillingly I stress the last word.

I mean don't get me wrong, I know why I am here, it's just really uncomfortable. However, I have been in worse situations.

"Yeah? And what else did Christian tell you?" he says while a lopsided smile blooms on his face, revealing his sharp, white, left canine. I feel a bit like Red Riding Hood in front of the big bad wolf. She also didn't know what she was walking into when she went on her stroll to Grandma's house. I pretend to know though what's expected from me. So let's proceed.

"He told me that I should wear a dress."

"Did he now? And you obeyed. Are you always this obedient? Come closer," he says, stretching out his hand.

"Only when it serves a purpose that I deem worthy," I answer truthfully and put my hand into his.

He pulls me closer and makes me sit on his lap. This was fast. Ok... I don't mind; means it will be over sooner.

"I like your colors." His voice is mellow. 

"You mean the dress?"

"Also, but mainly the color of your skin; I like how iridescent it is, and how effortless I can trace the blue of your veins through it. And the color of your hair. I always liked blonds and you look like a marble statue. You know, we Italians are big on statues and marble."

"Yeah, goes way back, I suppose."

He lets out a light chuckle and proceeds to brush his thumb over my lower lip smudging probably the lipstick. I guess this is foreplay. People are weird, that much I know, and this, this would even be kind of hot if the circumstances were different.

Let's get this over with; it's half past twelve and I have to be at work at seven.

I try to fix a neutral expression on my face while I kneel on the floor between his legs and move my hand to unzip his pants.

I am not a victim, I know what I am doing and I am also perfectly aware of why I am doing everything. It's a blowjob not the end of the world. With Ivan, it had been way worse. At least this guy is handsome and looks as if he at least showered today which Ivan didn't back then.

Whatever, it's in the past, now it's only a nasty memory.

Stefano looks down at me. There is wild lust glittering in his eyes. He is instantly hard under my touch.

I suppress a sigh and lower my head but can't help hoping that this will not set a precedent and that I am not creating bigger problems without solving any.

In July I will be gone, but I just can't help feeling whatever it is I am feeling right now besides emotional numbness.

In-out, in-out, dozens of times in and out. The tip of his dick rubs against the back of my throat, his tight grip on my hair hurts slightly and the tears that creep into my eyes reek of humiliation.

Don't cry, bitch! Don't you dare to fucking cry, Roxi. You are stronger than this.

I am, so I try my best to suppress the gag reflex and the tears from rolling, and I manage.

After he is finally finished, I stand up as gracefully as possible, dust my dress, and head towards the door, wiping away the sperm-drop from the corner of my mouth.

"Good night, sir," I say, exiting the office without waiting for him to answer.

Back in the trailer I shower, brush my teeth a bit longer than usual, and hope he does not have STDs, while I climb into bed.

What a day...

I am quite tough, or that is what I want to think about myself; I will not let tonight's events affect me. At least I will try.

In the morning I start with my usual work but can't help being a bit more absentminded than usual.

"Alles gut bei dir, Rox? Ist etwas passiert?/ Are you ok, Rox? Did something happen?" asks Damian, eyeing men concerned.

"Natürlich, was soll den sein?/ Yeah, obviously. What could have happened?"

"Weiss nicht, ist nur ein Gefühl. Du wirkst anders, irgendwie traurig. War Frau Lange wieder gemein zu dir, oder der Chef?/ Dunno' it's just a feeling. You seem somehow sad. Has miss Lange been mean to you again, or the boss?"

"Nah, alles gut. Hmm Mann, seit wann bist du so sensible?/ No, all good. Hmm man, since when are you so alert and sensitive?" I try to laugh it off and make a mental note to get a grip.

"Ist deine Familie in Ordnung?/ Is your family okay?" he insists.

"Ja. Ihnen geht es so gut wie möglich. Warum fragst du?/ Yeah. They are as good as they can be. Why do you ask?"

"Weil du nie über deine Familie sprichst oder über dein Leben bevor du in die Schweiz gezogen bist. Ich weiß nur das deine Mutter tot ist und dass du einen Bruder hast. Woran ist sie gestorben? Und warum fliegst du so selten Heim? Ich möchte nicht aufdringlich sein, aber wir kennen uns schon eine ganze Weile und vielleicht kann ich helfen wenn ich weiß was das Problem ist./ Because you never talk about your family or about your life before moving to Switzerland. I only know that your mother died and that you have a brother. How did she die? And why do you visit your family so seldom? I don't mean to intrude but we know each other for a while and maybe I can help if I know what the problems are."

I look at Damian's face and feel a little tear creep into my eye.

"Na ja, ich und mein Vater haben einen recht schlimmen Streit gehabt bevor ich weggezogen bin. Wir haben uns immer noch nicht vertragen. Ich muss ihm und meinem Bruder regelmäßig Geld senden damit sie ein besseres Leben haben. Deswegen bin ich manchmal schlecht gelaunt und geizig./ Well, me and my dad had a fight a few years ago before I moved. We are still not on very good terms. I need to send money to support him and my brother. That's why I am so moody and frugal but nothing dramatic," I say, forcing a smile.

I must admit that it's nice when someone seems to actually care.

Patting Damian on the back I stand up and go find something to do elsewhere so I don't get too emotional.

Burdening myself with as much work as I can find, I try to avoid thinking too much. When depression creeps up on me, it always helps to remind myself of the things I am grateful and happy about. That is what I am doing now too. 

Christian and Lisa left today. I didn't see either after my visit to Stefano's office. Not sure what I would have said when Christian asked how it went.

Good, I suppose. His face seemed blissful after he came into my mouth. I do wonder though how these rich people tick. He could have lots of women blowing him out of sheer pleasure. He could pay for even more if that were the case, still, he seemed to find pleasure in forcing me to do it. Or did he think I went there willingly? That I enjoyed it? Maybe.

He said absolutely nothing just smiled and watched me walk away.

Slowly things got back to normal after that more than strange weekend. I don't see Stefano, Tomaso, or the nameless guy that I have forgotten about for a while, and everything seems peaceful.

Routine erased the impact of the last events. I don't want to whine again. It was just a blowjob given to an admittedly handsome man and I knew very well what I was doing. Now stop thinking about it, Roxi.

On weekends when the boys are gone, I am usually doing planning and other paperwork. So far I have only had one weekend like this and the one at hand.

This time the vila seems almost deserted.
Only some bodyguards and serving personnel are still here and since they don't talk to me I can consider them ghosts.

Saturday evening, sometime after the sun sets, I stand up from the office and go to take a walk in the garden. Everything is dark and quiet. So dark and quiet that I hear muffled voices from a distance.

Instinct makes me hide behind a tree.

"Estas seguro que no hay nadie aqui hoy?/ Are you sure there is nobody here today?" I hear a man whisper to another thing I don't quite understand.

"Si, cabron, se dice que su capo no se encuentra bien, y el jefe quiere que nos aprovechemos./ Yes, asshole, it's rumored that their capo is not well, and the boss wants us to take advantage."

Both men are hidden in the shadows and I can only see that they don't wear the bodyguard uniform. They must be thieves.

Well, shit. I hope they are not armed but I see that my hope was misplaced as the moon comes out from behind the clouds and shines on the colored shirts of the men and the metal of the revolvers at their belts.

Congratulations, Roxi, you are again in a suboptimal situation. Should I just stay quiet and let them enter the house? What if they shoot the servant girls? I cannot let this happen. Hmm, if I make a bit of noise the bodyguards will hear and will be here in minutes. I take one of the metal buckets one of the guys left in the garden and step into the light.

I do hope they will not shoot me though.

"Ey signori! Parla inglese?/ Hey gentlemen! Do you speak English?" I scream at them and God was that a mistake because both guns are directed at me now and the guys look angry as fuck.

I toss my hands in the air and the bucket on the ground making another nasty loud sound.

"Quien demonios es esta chica?/ Who the fuck is this girl?"

"Probablemente una sirvienta, dispara ya!/ Probably a maid. Shoot her already!"

"Eres idiota? Si disparo, toda la casa lo va oír. No parece italiana./ Are you stupid? If I shoot, the whole house is going to hear it. She does not seem to be Italian."

Once again I don't really get what they are saying but one of them comes closer and grabs my hair.

"Who are you?" he asks in English but with a prominent accent, slightly different from the Italian one.

"R-Roxana, sir. I-I work here," I stammer, knowing now for sure that whatever I was thinking was really, really stupid.

"Ok, Roxana, then you will show us around. We need to get to the don's office. Show us where that is."

Oh yeah that I know quite well how to get to, I think. However, I need to get the guards' attention. How the fuck didn't they hear the noise?

"Y...yes I can. You have to enter through that door," I say pointing to one in a well-lit area. Above all, that is a lie.

"Are you sure?" he says pulling back my head.

I hiss slowly because of the pain he inflicts when he pulls my hair.

"Vas a tomar inmediatamente tus manos de encima de ella,/ You are going to take your hands off her immediately," says a deadly calm and slightly familiar voice.

Not exactly sure what he said just that he wants it to happen right away.

"Beto, es el,/ Beto, it's him!" says the other man, and this time I understand what he means.

Right after, I hear a gun clicking and a few seconds later I feel something warm and wet on my legs.

Christ! This guy actually pissed himself.

"Si obedeces voy a ser misericordioso, si no, ya sabes que eres hombre muerto. / If you obey I am going to be merciful, if not you already know you are dead."

He slowly lets go of me. The two men are carried away by the bodyguards that appear from the dark.

I turn around not sure how to behave. His gaze is on me. Unapologetically.

"Come," he says simply.

"Where?"

"To the house. You are going to sleep there tonight. It's too dangerous to let you go back to the container. There might be other... thieves out here. My men are going to search the garden thoroughly."

"I will be fine, don't worry," I say, trying to brush off the hint of fear I am still feeling, and smile at him.

His usually stern face is lightened up by an involuntary half-smile.

"No, you won't. Stop being stupid. You were very stupid tonight. Very brave and very stupid for being so. Come on," he says putting a hand on my shoulder and leading me inside.

My cheeks are heating up and I can't help it. What the fuck, Roxi? You didn't blush in a long, long time.

He leads me to the door of a room on the first floor and gestures for me to enter.

"You can sleep here tonight. Don't go out under any circumstances, okay? There might still be some thugs on the grounds."

"Okay," I say, smiling and blushing even more.

Roxi, stop it!

"Hey!" I say right after he turns around to leave. He looks at me raising an eyebrow.

"Yes?"

"What's your name? You never told me." And it's overdue I know.

"You never asked, Pebbles. Marco," he says with a boyish grin on his face.

"Only Marco? Like Madonna?"

"Yes, only Marco," he says and brushes a strand of my disheveled hair behind my ear.

"Good night, and for God's sake don't do this ever again. And... shower."

Va bene... Marco...

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Hit me with speculations: who is Marco? What does he want?

What do you think of him?