Roxana

Some light smut ahead, be aware.

And here I stand, dumb, blushing, recently escaped from a death threat and with someone else's piss all over me.

Oh my God, how gross; it just dawns on me.

But getting over this and the life-threatening situation, I finally learned this guy's name and blushed like a teenager.

Hmm, would it be so bad if I maybe asked him out on a date or so? Would he accept or would I just embarrass myself?

Girl, slow down, he might be gay or married with children as far as you know.

My internal monologue is interrupted by a knock on the door. I starle and open to see... rooftop... well Marco stretching out a hand holding a black shirt.

"Here. I don't think we have women's clothing around but you can wear this to sleep. The maids will wash your clothes till tomorrow. Okay?"

I don't manage to bring a word out, just look at him dumbfounded. Yes, it makes sense now that he says it.

"Ok, if you don't want it I will take it back. It's not that warm today but if you feel like sleeping naked, you do you. Just take those pants off they're disgusting. Even without the piss, they are beyond shabby," he says, trying to keep a serious face but can't help smirking.

"Gimme' that," I say, grabbing the shirt and stretching out my tongue.

"Are you... uh... okay?" he asks, again stern-faced. It sounds as if he is not used to asking this kind of questions.

"Yeah, as good as I can be after having a gun pointed at my head. But he was seemingly more afraid than I was. Jesus, I have not been peed on since my brother was a baby."

"I tend to have this effect on people," he replies, and the light and livelihood glimmer in his eyes again, but only for a few seconds till he becomes again too serious for my taste and bows his head goodbye, walking away.

I close the door and finally turn around to have a look at the room. It's simple, probably one of the rooms of the service people, but a lot better than the container I sleep in. Delighted, I take a long shower, taking advantage of the fact that this bathroom is not smurf-sized like the one in the trailer, where the shower and the bathroom are one.

It's half past twelve again when I put on the black shirt and go to bed. I can't help noticing the smell; it's obvious it's freshly washed and ironed but it retains a faint trace of perfume. Roxi, stop being a weirdo and go to sleep.

I hear a knock on the door and my eyes open in shock. It's daylight outside which means I have overslept. Fuck!

The knock again.

"Yes..."

A plump lady in her forties walks inside carrying my washed, ironed, and folded clothes. She does not wear a uniform like the other maids. I had noticed her before just that we never spoke, out of obvious reasons.

"Grazie," I say smiling at her.

"Ragazza, ho buttato via quella maglietta. Aveva buchi dappertutto./ Girl, I have thrown that t-shirt away. It had holes all over."

"Mi scusa Signora, io non parlo italiano./ Sorry ma'am I don't speak Italian," I answer smiling apologetically.

"T-shirt. Away. Kaput," she says gesturing passionately with her hands.

Huh? Is she just explaining to me she threw my stuff away? What's with this audacity? I however catch a glimpse of the time on my watch and these details lose importance.

It's three-quarters past seven. I have my first meeting with the possible contractors at eight. Damn it, I have not even brushed my teeth.

"Va bene," I scream at her waving her away, and rush into the bathroom to accomplish the bare minimum of hygiene before a workday.

I have slept in this damn shirt but it will have to do the job. Tuged in the jeans it looks ok enough to not think about it anymore. 

I run towards the container, managing to walk in one minute after eight. Success.

A few minutes later, the first gentleman that I have the meeting with, walks in together with Tomaso, who kindly agreed to help with the communication.

The whole day goes by with talks with several stone masons, slaters, and carpenters.

It is very kind of Tomaso to help. When he says goodbye at the end of the day, a slight shadow washes over his face. In search of the reason for that, I remember that I am still wearing that shirt and curse in my mind but brush it off as elegantly as possible. I am happy he didn't assume anything.

Later I meet Damian and the boys.

"Hey Rox, was ist mit dem outfit? Und deine Nägel sind gemacht. Was ist hier los? Was hast du am Wochenende getrieben?/ Hey Rox what's with the outfit? Looks a bit too big for you. And your nails are painted. What's going on here?" asks Damian in a jocking tone but somehow genuinely curious.

"Frag nicht. Ich wurde angepinkelt. Ist dir das schonmal passiert?/ Don't ask. I've been pissed on. Ever happened to you?" Then I continue telling him briefly what happened, of course not mentioning my nightly business with Christian, Stefano, or the little flirt I have going on. It's not only in my mind, right?

"Etwas ist in diesem Haus nicht in Ordnung und mir diesen Leuten, ich sag's dir./ Something is wrong here and with these people, I'm telling you."

"Mitt Sicherheit. Zu viel Kohle. Ich wünsche ich hätte ihre Probleme./ Oh tell me about it. Too much money, that's it. Wish I had their problems." I really do. 

The whole afternoon I keep thinking about how to give the shirt back. It would be polite to wash it first, but I wash my clothes in the tiny bathroom sink and never iron them, so I guess I would do quite an improper job. It's a fancy shirt, I must admit; it seems custom-tailored. So I suppose he does not have financial issues that I have to worry about if I keep it.

Around eight, I fix myself a bowl of cereal because Christian ate my food money for the month away and think about going to sleep early when I hear a knock on the door.

It's after working hours so I hope from the bottom of my heart it's not Stefano. I don't think so, though. He would request me to go to him not the other way around. But who else? And it's so bad this damn container doesn't have a window on that side or a man peephole. Now I have to go full-on surprise. 

Oh hello there...

"Marco," I blur out slightly surprised.

"Yes, that's my name, you remember correctly," he says smirking.

I try to decipher his mimic and fail. He looks curious and a bit amused, maybe?

"You came for your shirt. I didn't wash it. Are you sure you want it back like this?"

"No. I came to see where you live."

"Why the sudden curiosity? But come in. Do you want coffee? It's the better one I got from Tomaso."

"It's not sudden. Tomaso? You are on a first-name basis already."

"He's a cool guy."

"Also twice your age. Daddy issues?" he says and the smile on his face lights up the dimm trailer room.

Yeah, my daddy is fifty-eight years old and a walking issue.

"Not in the way you might think," I counter and look him in the eyes, smirking back.

Bitch, you are flirting. A sad attempt but still one.

"It was not a good joke. I need to practice more; I have lost my edge."

I gesture to him to enter, noticing that we are still standing at the door.

He looks around the place and I can't quite imagine what he is thinking.

"It's terribly small, kind of cold, and a bit dirty," he says in the end.

"It's also free," I say, a bit irritated. 

"You are an engineer. All the site people are living in town, which means it is affordable. Much stingy?"

"Yeah, I try to get my first million before thirty," I joke so he does not think further about the why.

"And how is it going?"

"You don't wanna know."

I hand him a coffee cup smiling from ear to ear. Look at you, Roxi.

"It's good, right?"

"It's okay, but there is better. I can show you."

Okay, I might like what's going on here. Come on, Roxi, you are rusty but you can still try; I stupidly encourage myself while my body seems to move on its own, standing up from my chair and walking towards him till our knees touch.

"Are you asking me out on a date?" I ask, looking him deep in the eyes.

Then it dawns on me. What the fuck am I doing? His boss was deep-throat-ing me a few days ago. This is wrong. As good as it might feel, there's nothing good that can come out of it.

But it's too late because he is already up from his chair too. I feel the edge of the kitchen counter on my lower back, his body warmth, and his smell that makes my body shudder.

"No, I don't date. But I might just show you," he says while his hands touch my face gently and I am lost in his dark eyes. I feel high. On him.

Wrong, Roxi! Wrong! I scream on the inside but my hands wander up his body and I feel hard muscles under my fingertips. He is ripped, really ripped and I might be a tiny bit wet and much too willing.

I go on my toes to reach his lips without breaking the hypnotic eye contact when we both feel his phone vibrating in his pocket before they touch.

"Cazzo," I hear him curse under his breath and bite his lip moving away. "I have to take this..." he says, exiting the room. Thank God he does, because I bet if we had kissed it would have escalated with light speed.

Would that have been so bad? I can't help but wonder.

The thought lingers the rest of the evening as does the newly awoken longing in my body. I have not felt this in a long, long time.

Stop being stupid, Roxi. Though my brain knows it, my body does not. I am uneasy and tense, moving under the covers, and sweating even if the temperature in the room is quite low.

I give in finally, knowing I will not be able to sleep otherwise. My usual jam is imagining Christian... because well, ... year-long crush. Out of force of habit, I imagine him kissing me lightly and touching me how I remember having liked being touched a lifetime ago.

It is just that this time green eyes turn dark and deep, his white skin turns golden and his light brown hair turns black as I move my fingers under the covers along my inner thigh and shudder when sensing a touch I didn't desire to feel in a long time.

Goosebumps build all over my body and my nipples harden after only a light touch.

"Ti piace?/ Do you like it?" I imagine him saying, the sharp sounds rolling from the tip of his tongue. It's like a weird aphrodisiac.

"Mi piace/ I like it..." I whisper almost unwillingly as my finger slides along my wet and aching clit.

Somewhere in the dark, a muffled sound pierces the air. What the fuck is it?

It's the damn phone that seems to have been ringing for a few minutes. I obviously didn't hear it. Who on earth is so insistent at eleven in the night? I roll my eyes and stand up from the bed to get that. To be continued... Not that I have gotten particularly far.

Damn phones are cockblocking me the whole day seemingly.

Never mind, because my heart gives one quick and hard beat when I see what's on the screen. Five lost calls from Dani and a text saying

Roxi, please call me as quickly as possible. Ivan's men came and they took Daddy. I am afraid.