Sharon
Sharon sighed as her spatula scraped across the rough metal of her cast iron skillet. Or is it really just Vittorio’s? Sharon wondered as she whipped herself up some breakfast.
The last week had easily been the most confusing of her life. From a virgin college student to a cock-hungry captive, she couldn’t think too hard about what had happened to her without getting flustered or sad. She sprinkled cheese over the top of her scrambled eggs, closed her eyes and sniffed. The smell of melting cheddar made her think of home.
I wonder where my parents think I am, Sharon thought forlornly. Though she’d enjoyed the rest at first, she was starting to worry about her life outside Vittorio’s penthouse and whether she’d ever get out see it again.
Would it still be waiting for her?
She thought about her waitressing job. It wasn’t one she had particularly loved, but she hoped they didn’t think she had just stopped showing up to work. It wasn’t in her character to quit that way. She thought about her classes, about the money she’d already plowed into classes and books, the hours upon hours of studying she had done. Was it all for nothing?
Sharon shoveled her breakfast onto one of the plain gray porcelain plates in Vittorio’s cabinets. Everything there was silver or gray. It added such a sleek, cool feel to the space but made Sharon feel oddly out of place. She was starting to miss the homey feel of her apartment, her worn pink flannel sheets and the teddy bear her parents had sent her for her first birthday in New York.
Being held in Vittorio’s place was hard to complain about though. She had those big, beautiful rooms packed with luxurious beds and couches at her disposal for most of the day. One of Vittorio’s men had done a grocery run for her, so the fridge and pantry were stacked with everything from fruits and meats to Sharon’s favorite cookies. Vittorio had gotten her a phone so that she could talk to him or his men. It was a limited access phone, so she couldn’t use it to get on social media or to call her parents or the police, but she had loaded up with apps and games to keep herself busy during the day. She could even use the universal remote app to flip channels on any of the many monster-sized TVs in the penthouse.
Though her situation with Vittorio wasn’t exactly ideal, Sharon couldn’t help but admit to herself that she did feel like quite the princess, lounging about, playing with fancy gadgets all day. She yearned for fresh air, for maybe just the chance to go for a walk on her own, but she didn’t feel that Vittorio trusted her enough for that yet. She was still so grateful that he had been the one who had taken her home, rather than that sick old Anafesto man.
And the sex with Vittorio… Sharon swooned at the thought.
Being intimate with him had hurt the first time, but not enough to negate the overwhelming arousal and satisfaction she had felt while pinned under him. Almost every night since, Vittorio had come home to fondle and tease her until she thought she couldn’t stand it anymore, then fuck her until she saw stars. Every day, she could feel her body craving him more and more. Sex with him was becoming her own little addiction. She had never experienced a high like that produced by the endorphins he caused to run wild through her body, and she really didn’t want that experience to stop.
Somehow, though, it felt like a piece to the Vittorio puzzle was missing. Sharon loved the way he ravaged her, the way he cared for her, or at least made sure his men did. But she felt, somehow, even when he was buried eight inches or deeper inside her, that he was maintaining a distance between the two of them. Sharon longed for more emotional intimacy. She had dreamt the night before about falling asleep in his ink-covered arms. She felt embarrassed and a little scared at the thought of asking him to stay. Not only did she fear the sting of his rejection, but she also didn’t want to overstep her bounds. Vittorio was the only thing keeping her from a much less savory life and she didn’t want to risk it.
After finishing her breakfast, Sharon cleaned her dishes and set off to wander the penthouse. It really was beautiful. Every surface shone in the artistically arranged lighting. Sharon briefly remembered Vittorio mentioning that his mother had decorated a lot of his family’s personal properties. She wondered what Vittorio’s mother must be like. She pictured an affluent woman in a big fur coat and dark sunglasses, with diamonds the size of quarters glinting at her earlobes; the perfect look for a big-time mobster’s widow. She wondered which of his parents Vittorio took after. Did his mother look like him?
Sharon decided to relax in the living room, with its tall windows looking out onto the terrace. She had become surprisingly comfortable in her own skin during her time with Vittorio. She didn’t feel self-conscious at all, kicking back in his luxe sofa wearing next to nothing.
In addition to food, Vittorio’s best friend Marcello had also brought Sharon a wide array of tiny baby doll nighties and other bits of lacy, filmy loungewear. She had never been much into sexualizing or showing off her body, but she loved the way the soft clingy fabrics hugged and flattered her curves, the way her bare skin made her feel sexy.
She also loved the image of Marcello, in all his grizzled buzz-cut glory, shopping around in New York lingerie shops. The thought made her giggle to herself.
Sharon fussed around on her phone, turning on the big TV mounted up on the wall. Slowly, the TV came to life, the sound first, then the picture. Unintelligent people yelled at each other using horrendous grammar, then she saw a trashy girl with poorly placed facial piercings and patchy pink hair sitting in a chair next to Maury Povich.
No thanks, Sharon thought, flipping the channel just as the girl drawled, “I know he been cheatin’, Maury!”
After confirming nothing good was on TV in the mid-morning anyway, Sharon settled for a game show and felt herself space out. Despite herself, she couldn’t keep the pink-haired girl’s words from creeping back into her psyche. How many other girls was Vittorio seeing? Sharon wondered, and not for the first time. He had basically told her when they first met what a Casanova he was with the ladies. Surely he hadn’t given that up for Sharon?
He came to see her every night, but he never stayed. She knew this wasn’t his only house. Where was he sleeping and was anyone else sleeping there with him? Sharon forced herself to stop this persistent cyclone of thought. It would never lead anywhere good. She did her best to remind herself that she was looking too far ahead. As it was, Vittorio was giving her more than most women could expect. She couldn’t be getting herself worked up and jealous over his sleeping habits.
Especially not given the alternative. She shuddered, thinking of the skinny girl she’d met before the auction. She’d much rather be here, with one man who didn’t hurt her, then risk being turned back out to be devoured by someone else, or maybe even by many someones. She’d avoided a life of pain, of potential drug abuse, of turning cheap tricks for cash, and she was determined to continue avoiding it. She didn’t want to test her place and, if that meant sucking it up and ignoring the idea of Vittorio’s many lovers, then so be it.
An overweight woman, in a clearly homemade bright pink t-shirt that proclaimed her love for the game show’s host, spun a giant wheel and won a bunch of money. She jumped up and down and ran around the stage, whooping and hollering with unfiltered excitement.
Man, I’m bored, Sharon realized.
So far, boredom had been her biggest issue during the day. Vittorio left her here alone and was busy most of the time. They very sporadically texted, but it wasn’t like she was allowed to talk to anyone else. She’d taken to doing exercise videos during the day. She wanted her body to be strong, healthy and sexy for Vittorio. But she was sore today and wasn’t feeling up to it. Even her phone games just couldn’t keep her entertained.
She got up and began to wander aimlessly around the expansive penthouse. She’d already spent so much time pacing that she practically had everything memorized, but she hoped that maybe the movement would at least give her an idea for something to do during the long hours of waiting for Vittorio.
Sharon traced her familiar path through the white bedroom. It was such an oddity to her. The room was so small and plain compared to the extravagance of the rest of the luxury apartment. It almost felt like it didn’t fit.
Sharon brushed her fingertips delicately against the spackled walls. She stopped suddenly when she noticed a tiny, perfectly straight crack running up a length of the wall.
Odd, Sharon thought. The slit was so narrow she hadn’t noticed it before.
On closer inspection, she realized it wasn’t a crack. It was a part of a perfectly square shape in the wall. The outline was so faint, it was almost invisible. How have I never noticed this before? Sharon wondered. She had spent so much time wandering around the penthouse over the last few days, it surprised her that she hadn’t already seen this weird little panel.
Sharon knew she should leave it alone. This wasn’t her home and she shouldn’t be snooping into something that likely wasn’t her business. Obviously, based on the subtle design, it wasn’t something she was meant to see. Just walk out of the room, Sharon told herself. She continued to stare at the perfect square, so flawlessly spackled to match the walls. A long moment passed, but she eventually tore herself away.
She padded across the soft, white carpet and let herself out the door. She walked further down the hallway into the second, much more luxurious bedroom. Despite her resolution not to snoop, Sharon began scrutinizing the walls, looking for anomalies. She squinted intently and felt the walls, checking behind the bed and the night tables, but found nothing.
Mildly frustrated, she gave up searching. She wanted to resist the urge to examine the master suite, but her boredom and curiosity were overwhelming. She headed tentatively into the bedroom where Vittorio usually wanted to have sex with her. Something about this bedroom, the intimacy of where she had been welcomed into womanhood, made her feel vulnerable. This wasn’t her space. It was Vittorio’s, really, and somehow her snooping felt more personal in here. She inspected the walls, a much tougher feat in a room this size, but again found nothing. She stopped and stood in front of the windows, again awed by the view of the city from this high up. She felt like a modern princess trapped in a luxury tower, locked away from the outside world.
A tower with a secret mystery panel.
Sharon shook her head, hoping to dislodge the nagging thought that she should check the square again, maybe find a way to open it. If it even opens, she chided herself. For all she knew, it was nothing. It could be just some flaw in the painting or a patched-up hole. She continued to search around the master suite, even daring to go into Vittorio’s closet.
His clothes smelled like him: masculine, musty and powerful. Sharon took a thermal shirt hanging on the neat rack and buried her face in the soft worn fabric. Thoughts of Vittorio had been playing through her mind on a constant loop for the past week. She couldn’t help it. He was so incredibly sexy, so rugged. She’d never imagined she’d ever be with a man like him. Just his scent spurred longing aches in her core. She craved the exhilaration of having him inside of her.
He was so rough, the way he claimed her body with his own. Gradually, he’d been introducing her to some of his rougher kinks, and Sharon had been surprised by how much she enjoyed being spanked. The demeaning things he did made her nervous at first, but eventually she just felt sexier under his power. Somehow his domination was liberating. She felt so free to just let go of herself and enjoy the carnal sensations and raw pleasure of her own body.
Truthfully, though, despite the deviant sex, she felt stifled by the emotional distance he maintained between them. Every night he came to see her she hoped he would stay. She longed for a chance to lay on his strong chest, to listen to the rhythm of his heart, to hear about his day or rub his shoulders. The nurturer in her craved his affection or, at least, an opportunity to express her own.
She let the shirt go, letting it drift back in line with his other clothing. Sharon peeked around the closet but found nothing of note. She was losing enthusiasm in her attempts to find secrets hidden in the penthouse. She reckoned she was probably just going crazy from boredom.
Maybe I’ll just take a shower, Sharon decided. Maybe the hot water would clear her head, plus she wanted to feel fresh and sexy when Vittorio came by.