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As I get to the hallway, I hear voices and I freeze. A door to a paneled room is open. Sounds like all three brothers are behind the heavy wood door at the far end of the room. I decide I’ll burst in, fling the doors open and take them off guard. My feet don’t make a sound on the thick rug.
When I get to the door, my breath stops. I recognize Bruno’s voice. Even muffled through the heavy paneled wood door, he booms above the burble of low, dirty laughter. “A girl lets herself down like that, lets herself be had, word’s going to get out.”
I freeze.
Alessio says, “Doesn’t ever take much.”
Then a male voice I don’t know. Strong, masculine and cultured, he sounds far too young to be the don. It carries the arrogance of the high-born mafiosa with a dry deadpan. “Seems like she took plenty.”
Alessio’s unmistakeable laugh hammers like a drumroll. “Madonna.”
I should knock and enter. Or just burst in, see how they react. But my feet are stuck to the floor. I have to hear what comes next. And I want to know who they’re talking about.
Bruno says, “A dirty reputation sticks like paint.”
I need to know, could they be talking about me? The one I don’t know, but I’m thinking has to be Carlo, says, “How can they do it, those kinds of girls? How can they throw their lives away like that?”
Alessio’s rasping chuckle, “In high school. Before they’ve even given themselves a chance?”
“There was a girl in Saint Barbara’s. Everybody knew.” As I’m listening to Bruno, I get a sense of something surprising about the three men’s voices. Hearing them but not seeing them, they don’t sound much alike.
Alessio’s delivery is more measured. Clipped. Maybe he was the one who learned discipline. “I remember her.”
And Bruno’s laugh is brighter and less controlled. Still with a threatening undertone, a hint of sadism, “I heard she gave blowjobs to anyone who wanted them.”
I gulp. That was the main thing I used to do with Federico. That and what he did for me. We called it ‘making out.’ First it was just play-acting. Silly horsing around. But then we figured, we had to learn somehow. What better way than to experiment with each other?
That was the thing that always gave me the biggest, banging buzz, though. The pull and tease, the pressure buildup, then the release. The thrumming, electric pulse of power.
I loved the aroma of his heat. It’s unique. Like a signature or the feeling of his hands. And the feeling of power. The power I had with him in my mouth, and the power I was inhaling. That, and I loved the taste.
If Federico hadn’t been so great and so enthusiastic in trying things out when we were in school, if I didn’t have somebody I knew so well and I could trust so completely, I might have given blowjobs to anyone who wanted them.
I know people had suspicions of what we were up to, but there’s no way anyone ever knew for sure. No specifics, for certain. Not unless he told someone, and I know he wouldn’t ever do that.
Or unless somebody saw us. But if they had, one of us would have heard. In a school like ours, if somebody knows something about you, sooner or later they’ll try and extract some value with it.
My gut cramps like it wants to fold in half, and my thighs clench hard as I’m listening to them go on.
The voice I don’t know laughs and says, “Couldn’t get enough cock down her throat.”
Bruno slips in, “Girl goes like that, she’s never going to get a husband.”
Alessio’s heavy rolling laugh, like an enormous bowling ball, “Not unless it’s some low-life.”
The one I don’t know but maybe Carlo surprises me with such a cruel laugh. “Or a pimp.”
Alessio agrees, “Like I said.”
Bruno sounds like he’s grinning. “Great blowjobs, though.”
Alessio jibes, “I know you got some.”
I picture Bruno lifting a whiskey glass to his lips as the chuckle still rumbles in his chest. “Just saying.”
I’m reaching for the door when maybe-Carlo says, “So you don’t buy our deliciously curvy little Cinderella’s innocent act?”
Alessio leers in his scornful drawl and I freeze again. “She is so gagging for it.”
