“See, you’re still a good girl.”

“Tell me where they are.”

“Get one finger under that shitty cotton.”

I push my shame so deep I can’t feel it and slide one finger under my panties.

“Tell me,” I demand.

“You’re wet.”

It’s too simple a phrase for him and uttered in distraction. He needs me to pick up the slack while he decodes my message.

“I’m very wet. My cunt is very slippery.”

“You sound like you just learned English.”

“Tell me what to do.”

“Figure it out.”

I have to commit to this so they won’t wonder what’s distracting him.

Sliding that one finger along my seam, I say what he’d say.

“It’s waiting for your cock. For when you stretch it out so much I want to scream. But you don’t let me scream. I’m only allowed to say your name, and if I don’t, you punish me. You beat my ass so bad it hurts when you fuck me from behind. You hold me down and fuck so hard. You’re mean. You spread my legs so far apart I’m defenseless. It’s like you want to break me in two.” I’m stroking a fire between my legs, imagining him above me, hair swaying against his forehead. He’s growling, grabbing, lost in his lust like an animal tearing apart his prey. “You bury that huge thing inside me, and I do break. I say Dario, Dario, Dario, and you fuck and fuck until I forget my name.”

“That’s right.” He groans behind me, and I know he’s pleasuring himself. “Clever girl.”

Clever girl.

He figured it out.

“Show me how you come.”

If I come, I can’t hide it from the camera, but my body doesn’t care. One flick of the finger and my back arches and my feet come off the floor.

With my last jerks, he grunts. I turn. He smirks at me with a handful of pearly jam.

I bolt to standing. The dress falls around my ankles. “You’re disgusting.”

That’s what I say. What I mean is, You’re brilliant. He came in his hand to hide figuring out what was inside the pocket hem.

“I know that.” He wipes his palm with the carefully laundered shirt. “Next time, you’ll lick it clean.”

“Twenty-seven Colonia women. Where are they?”

“Massimo knows I’m not going to tell him that.” He balls up the shirt and folds his arms over his bare chest. “Tell him it’s coming this month. The 25th. He’ll have to figure out the rest for himself.”

It’s over. I don’t know if I did what I came here to do or if I let him wound me for nothing. I back away and start down the hall on fast little feet.

“Sarah!”