the flashlight on my phone to guide us through the stored props.
She’s slow because she’s looking at everything.
We reach the curtained-off stairs. I push them aside and point. “This way.”
She peeks up the narrow, stone staircase. “What’s up there?”
“You’ll see.”
Her sense of adventure outweighs whatever it is she’s upset about. She climbs the stairs, hands on either stone wall. At the top, there’s another door. I reach over her to push it open. It sticks a little but eventually gives and a moment later, we’re outside, in a small area that’s a sort of balcony from where we can see the whole of the colosseum.
“Wow. Are we supposed to be here?” She looks down, up, at everything around her.
“No, probably not.”
She turns to me. “How do you know about it?”
“My dad used to bring us here when we were little. We’d come to three operas a week some summers. It got a little dull, so Ethan, Gregory, and I would explore.”
“They just let you explore? Here?”
“They didn’t know exactly where we were.”
The orchestra signals the Second Act is about to begin, and it seems to remind Helena of her annoyance. I see it on her face.
“What happened between dinner and this?”
She turns to me. “Nothing.”
“Something.”
She studies me, and I wait.
“What were you doing in that room with Alexa 2.0?”
I’m confused. Although the Alexa 2.0 is funny. “Were you spying?”
“No. I was upstairs on the balcony. I saw her come out of a room, and you followed soon after. She was adjusting her dress like her boob fell out, which I wouldn’t be surprised if it did, considering.” She rolls her eyes and purposefully turns her gaze to the stage.
“You sound jealous, Helena.”
She snorts. “You didn’t have to take me to the party. You could have left me at the hotel.”
“So you could run off to the train station again?”
She gives me a glare.
I get behind her, push her hair over her shoulder, and put my hands beside hers on the stone wall. I kiss her neck, the curve of her shoulder, the first welt on her back.
“Stop.”
I slide one hand inside the triangle covering her breast and the other between her legs.
“Alexa 2.0 is like a piece of birthday cake.”
I’m rubbing her pussy, kissing another line of red. She turns her head.
“What do you mean?”
“She’s nice to look at. Maybe makes your mouth water.”
She shoves at my forearm. “Then you should go have a slice.”
“That’s the point. Everyone can have a slice. Everyone has.”
“Have you?”
“A long time ago.” I pull my hand from her breast and make her look at me when she turns away. “And I don’t want seconds.” I kiss her. Her mouth opens, and her pussy is wet in my hand. “You’re what I want. This mouth, this pussy. You.”
The orchestra begins to play as Margarita comes on the stage, singing her woeful song.
Helena turns and puts her hands on the wall.
I draw her hips back, nudge her legs wide with my own, and the dress splits in two, exposing her to me.
I take a minute, stand back and admire her, pull her hips farther so she’s bent over, and I look at her like this, waiting for me, open for me. I want her. I want her like I’ve never wanted anything else in my life.
One hand on her hip, I hold her open as I undo my belt, unzip my pants, shove them and my briefs down. I slide into her pussy as I push her long hair off her back.
The raised lines beneath my fingers makes me harder. I close my hand around the back of her neck and hold her with one hand while with the other, I keep her ass spread open so I can see her, watch her pussy stretch to take me, see the tiny ring of her asshole.
I want all of her, her pussy, her ass, her mouth. I want to fill every hole at once.
She arches her back as I thrust into her, and the sounds of our fucking, of wet pussy swallowing up hard cock, of moans and groans and skin slapping against skin rival that of the soprano. When she fists her hands and I feel her squeeze me, throb around me, I come too, filling her up, squeezing the back of her neck, digging my fingers into her hip.
More bruises, my marks on her, only mine.
When I pull out, I watch cum drip out of her, drip onto the floor. I turn her to me