Shameful Reckonings Read online

  Chapter Two

  Sneaking back out of the utility room required as much care as sneaking into it in the first place. Fortunately, someone had installed a peephole in the door. Giancarla didn’t know why that had been done. It certainly couldn’t have been for spying on the women’s lockers and showers. Those weren’t visible through the peephole. All she could see was the entrance, but that was all that she needed.

  Lars had already ducked out back to the men’s side. As one of the staff members it was a lot easier for him. No one would think it unusual to see him coming out of the utility room. Giancarla had to be much more careful. She had come to actually enjoy the subterfuges and risk taking, along with the rush of excitement that it brought. Lars had been pleasingly strong and demanding this time. Giancarla felt happily sated, the more so because nobody knew of her assignations apart from herself and her lover. She was fairly certain that Lars was servicing other female club members as well, but that didn’t bother her as long as he could make her come on the rare times that they could be alone together. So far, he hadn’t failed her.

  She saw her opportunity and grabbed it, slipping through the door into the short hallway. A moment later she was in the ladies’ locker room. The atmosphere was steamy, because the showers were nearby. It was also saturated with the scents of all the perfumes, colognes, creams and powders used. She quickly went to her locker and stashed her tennis racket before she began undressing. Lars had not, in fact, used any protection earlier, and while Giancarla had no fear of pregnancy, she had protection of her own, the results were still a bit messy. She tossed her tennis outfit into her locker and took out the huge, fluffy towel. It was big enough that she could almost wear it as a toga. She settled for wrapping it around herself and holding it in place. Some of the women here weren’t overly concerned about covering themselves. Normally, Giancarla wouldn’t be either, but she’d seen Adrienne heading for the lockers earlier, and Adrienne liked to look. She managed to do it without being obvious, but Giancarla would have sworn that she could always feel the bony woman’s eyes crawling over her flesh, so she covered herself up as much as she could when going to or coming from the showers. There were about half a dozen women still around, but none of them was Adrienne and none of them were in the showers. Giancarla shed her towel with an inner sigh of relief.

  Getting the shower temperature right was always a struggle. It was always too hot or too cold at first. She fiddled with the taps until the temperature suited her and then stepped under the spray. Closing her eyes, she lifted her head so that the water cascaded onto her face. It always felt good to her. The warm water sluicing down her body also felt good. Still, Adrienne might appear at any moment, so Giancarla cut that part of her shower short and set about washing off the sweat and dirt and Lars. She had her own soap and washcloth for that. It was good that she was the only one in the showers at that moment. Other women might have noticed how carefully she was washing her pussy and start thinking.

  Something made Giancarla look up. She saw Adrienne lounging against a row of lockers, watching her, a nasty little half-smile on her face. Some spirit of defiance made Giancarla finish washing her pussy while Adrienne looked on. Screw her. Let her look, and lust, and be disappointed. Once she’d finished, Giancarla turned her back and continued with the rest of her shower. When she turned around again, Adrienne was gone.

  Giancarla turned off the shower and wrung out her hair. Naked and dripping, she retrieved her towel from the rack where she’d hung it and started to dry off. She felt refreshed now, and ready for a nice, leisurely late lunch. Boris would be there, of course, but it was pleasant to think of him being forced to just stand around while she took her time. The club had a delicious chef’s salad, which was nicely filling without delivering too many calories. After the workouts she’d had today, first on the tennis courts and then in the utility room, Giancarla thought that she could treat herself and put some of the tangy house ranch dressing on that salad instead of settling for a little vinegar and oil as she usually did.

  She had intended to drag out her lunch for as long as she could, if only to keep Boris waiting and waiting. He never complained about being treated that way. He never showed any irritation about it either, which only made Giancarla more determined to keep pushing until he did. As it happened, she was presented with a perfect excuse to dawdle over her chef’s salad. While she was savoring each bite of it, a younger woman approached her. She was blonde, but her hair color appeared natural. She didn’t look like she’d gone in for silicone or collagen either, and she was far too young to be anybody’s trophy wife. She looked vaguely familiar, though. It took Giancarla a moment to remember who she was: Mara Harris, the daughter of a discarded first wife. She’d met her once or twice at parties.

  “Am I intruding?” Mara asked hesitantly.

  “Not at all,” Giancarla smiled warmly. “Please, have a seat. Would you like anything to eat?”

  “Well,” Mara eyed the salad. “Actually, I haven’t had lunch yet, and that looks pretty good.” She took a chair opposite Giancarla and sat down with a sigh. “I’m glad to see a familiar face. I don’t even know why I came here today.”

  Giancarla had been wondering herself. Mara wasn’t dressed for tennis, or golf, or horseback riding, or any of the other activities that the club offered. She wore a loose-fitting floral print dress and sandals.

  “There are plenty of things to do here,” Giancarla said. “I don’t think I’ve seen you at the club before, though.”

  “No,” Mara admitted. “I’ve been away at college. Today daddy had some business meeting and I just couldn’t stand being in the same house as that woman. I didn’t know what else to do, so I came here.”

  Normally, Giancarla would have found some way to brush Mara off, but today she was more interested in the possibility of making Boris wait some more. She leaned forward, smiling sympathetically at Mara. “I understand, dear,” she said. “Sometimes you just need to get out. Please, join me for lunch. My treat.” Before Mara could even consider protesting the invitation, Giancarla had summoned a waiter over to the table.

  Mara was not a very cheerful conversationalist. Mostly she wanted to complain about her father tossing her mother aside for ‘that gold-digging bitch’. Apparently she did not get along at all well with her stepmother. Giancarla listened just enough to be able to nod or make sympathetic noises at the appropriate points. It occurred to her that if Mara really hated her circumstances as much as she seemed to, what was keeping her from ditching ‘daddy’ and all his money and getting a job? It wasn’t easy to feel much sympathy for the girl, and Giancarla had no feelings of guilt herself because she was a first wife as well as a trophy wife. Still, if the long, boring conversation did nothing else it kept Boris sitting in a corner, sipping at a glass of what was almost certainly water.

  There really wasn’t any reason to hurry home anyway. Nicholas was away on business again and wouldn’t be back for at least a week. As Mara went on and on about her problems, a plan formed in Giancarla’s mind.

  “Do you know what always makes me feel better?” she interjected brightly when Mara ran out of breath and was silent for a moment.

  “No,” Mara frowned. “What?”

  “Shopping!” Giancarla smiled. “I have nothing to do today, and it seems that you don’t either. Why don’t we girls go out and get ourselves some nice things? If you’re going to be coming to the club, you’ll really need some new outfits. I can help you pick some things out.”

  “Would you?” Mara brightened. Then her expression clouded up again. “Oh… no,” she shook her head. “I really couldn’t impose.”

  “Nonsense,” Giancarla responded. “It would be my pleasure. And my treat.”

  ***

  While Mara brightened up a bit during their shopping spree, every so often she’d lapse back into her glum, woe-is-me mode. Giancarla ignored those occasions as best she could. It was one thing to try to cheer up the younger woman, but it got to b
e a drag having to do it over and over again. She couldn’t quite decide if Mara was normally depressed or just particularly upset about something today. Either way, it didn’t matter. If Boris was upset about having to drive her all over town he didn’t show it, while Giancarla was finding it harder and harder to keep from yelling at Mara to lighten up already. Her attempt to annoy Boris had backfired on her spectacularly, and she suspected that Boris was now enjoying the situation. She stopped the shopping expedition as soon as she possibly could without making it too obvious that she was dumping wet-blanket Mara. For her part, Mara didn’t even seem to notice, which led Giancarla to suspect that she wasn’t all that bright either. The last she saw of her, Mara was standing by her expensive, fire-engine-red convertible sports car, surrounded by her share of the plunder of the shopping spree, smiling and waving goodbye.

  “Home, Boris,” Giancarla ordered. She slumped down in the back seat and sighed wearily. It was a relief to be rid of that dreary woman at last, but the experience had left her feeling emotionally drained. When she got home, she’d do some laps in the pool. Swimming was good exercise, and maybe pushing herself at it as she usually did would help her forget all about this afternoon. It was worth a shot.

  Once at home, she donned a favorite bikini. It barely covered what it was supposed to cover, but it left enough to the imagination to start most men salivating. Giancarla knew that she looked very, very good in it, but even so she spent a little time admiring herself in the mirror while looking for any signs of trouble. A careful appraisal only served to convince her that there were no such signs. Her flesh was firm and flawless everywhere. That made her feel better about the day, and she went to the pool with a little smile on her face. She left her clothes scattered on her bedroom floor for Olivia to attend to.

  Nicholas had admonished her about strolling through the mansion wearing only that bikini, but he was not here today, and she could always say that she had simply forgotten. The fact was she enjoyed the sidelong looks she got from the male staff as she strolled past them. None of them would openly stare at her, but every one of them had a look, even the head of the staff, ancient and wrinkled Alois. She went barefooted. When she needed a towel or anything else, one of the staff would bring it to her.

  The water was warmer than she expected, but it still felt good. She swam several laps slowly until she felt suitably warmed up, and then did three racing laps, pushing herself as hard as she could. She finished the last lap and clung to the side of the pool, puffing and gasping. She felt pleasantly tired now. Someone had told her once that vigorous exercise released endorphins and it was those that brought about her feeling of well-being. Maybe it was true, but she always felt good after she’d pushed herself. She climbed out of the pool and wrung out her hair. She struck a pose as she always did, standing spread-legged, her back arched and her head tilted far, far back. The late afternoon sun was glinting off of the huge glass sliding doors that led to the mansion, so she couldn’t tell if anyone was watching her little display, but she thought that somebody probably was. She shook her head vigorously, making her breasts wobble in their frail Lycra cradle, and sat down on one of the reclining beach chairs that ringed the pool. It was in the full light of the sun, but only for a little while longer. If she fell asleep in it there was no danger of incurring a painful burn. Giancarla settled herself in comfortably and closed her eyes. She smiled as she thought of something she’d like to try with Lars at their next little tryst.

  ***

  Someone was trying to wake her. At first, Giancarla felt only annoyance, and she slapped at the hand gently shaking her shoulder. As wakefulness slowly returned, though, she realized that she was not indoors in her comfortable bed, but still outside on the beach chair. She opened her eyes to see Boris standing over her, still wearing his dark suit and sunglasses. Startled, she sat up, fighting a sudden instinctive urge to cover herself with her hands. Boris stood much closer to her than he usually did, and he rarely touched her.

  “What?” she looked up at him angrily. Her bikini felt dry. So did her hair. How long had she been sleeping? The sun hadn’t quite set yet, but the sky overhead was already darkening. She could see a half-moon in the sky, as insubstantial as a cloud.

  “The master has returned home,” Boris said in his thickly-accented voice. “He wants to see you. Now.”

  “Nicholas is home? Wonderful! Let me get dressed and I’ll come to him!” Giancarla switched from pout to smile in an instant.””

  “No,” Boris shook his bald head. “He said now.”

  Okay, that sounded ominous. Maybe it was just because of Boris’ delivery, but Giancarla tried to imagine what would have prompted Nicholas to say that. Maybe one of the female staff had tattled to him about her parading around in the bikini. If that was the case, she would be properly contrite and then seduce Nicholas into taking her to bed. The way she was dressed it shouldn’t be hard. He was always a bit rough and demanding during their make-up sex, and she liked that, although she’d never told him so.

  Boris escorted her to where Nicholas was waiting. Giancarla had expected him to be in the cavernous living room, but instead he was in his study, a smaller room of dark wood paneling and packed bookshelves. Giancarla saw him sitting in his Italian leather swivel chair. She heard the door to the study close. Nicholas always reprimanded her in private.

  “Darling!” she smiled and went towards him with her arms extended. “What a wonderful surprise! Why didn’t you call and tell me you’d be home early? I could have…”

  “Stop.” Nicholas held up his hand, halting Giancarla’s words and her forward motion simultaneously. He looked up at her, and his eyes seemed cold… even contemptuous.

  “Darling?” Giancarla said nervously. “What is it?” He must be really upset about the bikini this time. She might even have to give him some oral sex, which she didn’t much care for.

  “It is many things, Giancarla, starting with that bikini you are wearing,” Nicholas replied.

  Giancarla started to speak, but then Boris came into view. She felt a sudden chill, and it wasn’t just from the skimpiness of her bikini. She had been about to smile sweetly and offer to take it off for him. Now… this was different.

  “I’m sorry, darling,” she said hastily. “I just forgot.”

  “No, you did not,” her husband shook his head. “But that is the least of my complaints. Whenever I am away, it seems that you treat the staff here like zeks.”

  Nicholas often used foreign words or phrases in his conversation. ‘Zek’ was one that Giancarla recognized. It was a Russian word that meant ‘slave laborer’. If Boris hadn’t been there, she might have playfully suggested that she needed a good spanking. Nicholas could never resist her when she got all sexy on him. As it was, she couldn’t think of anything to say or do except stand where she was and look properly chastened and repentant. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly, hanging her head.

  “Again, you are not,” Nicholas said sharply. “And even that is nothing in comparison to what else you have been doing. How long have you been having an affair with that great Swedish lout at the club?”

  Sudden desperation struck her. “You mean you’ve been spying on me?!” she yelled. “How long has that been going on?”

  Nicholas swiftly rose from his seat. Giancarla never saw the slap coming. He struck her hard enough to snap her head around and make her stagger. She put a hand to her cheek. She was so stunned that all she could do was gape at Nicholas. His eyes were full of a smoldering anger.

  “You,” he snarled, shaking a finger at her, “You are an arrogant, spendthrift, faithless little bitch! I rue the day that I married you!”

  “Nicholas,” Giancarla sobbed. Tears started from her eyes. “Darling…”

  “No,” Nicholas shook his head. “Do not speak another lying word!” He didn’t yell at her, which was more unnerving than if he had. His voice was low, and harsh, and angry. Giancarla suddenly realized that she was shivering from fear. She said
nothing, only waited, trembling, while Nicholas sat down again.

  “Now,” he said, in a more normal voice. “Take off that indecent bikini.”

  “What?” Giancarla gulped. She looked quickly at Boris, and then back at her husband. “But…”

  “You like to show off your body,” Nicholas smiled nastily. “And it is a superb body. Let Boris see it as well as I.”

  Okay, he meant to humiliate her as part of her punishment. She could survive this, but she would have to be much more careful in the future. Giancarla conjured up more sobs and tears as she untied the strings that kept her bikini on. The top slid away first, then the bottom. They made a terribly small pile on the floor at her feet. She stood with her head down so that her hair hid most of her face and kept halfheartedly trying to cover herself with her hands and arms without actually ever doing so.

  “I’m sorry…” she sobbed pitifully. “I’m so sorry…”

  “Spare me your lies,” Nicholas snapped. “I am tired of them. Always you are sorry, and yet you never change your ways. Boris, is she not beautiful naked?”

  “Yes, sir,” Boris nodded. His face was as expressionless as ever, his eyes invisible behind the dark sunglasses. Giancarla worked up a louder sob.

  “Take her downstairs,” Nicholas ordered. “Do as I instructed you.”

  “Yes, sir,” Boris nodded again. He started towards Giancarla. Now real panic struck her. She tried to jump away from the bodyguard, but he moved with horrifying speed. She felt his hands go around her neck, stifling the scream she had been about to make. She felt pressure on her throat, and then all the lights went out for her. Boris caught her before she could fall to the floor, lifted her up, and slung her limp body over his shoulder.

  Chapter Three

  Giancarla was huddled into a little naked ball of utter misery on the old mattress somewhere down in the cellar of the mansion. The light was off, and there were no windows to the outside, so it was pitch dark as well. She didn’t know where in the cellar she was. She had woken up here after Boris had rendered her unconscious. It wasn’t a large room, but it was crammed with old furniture, unlabeled boxes and the dusty old mattress she was lying on. It was also very, very quiet in here. Try as she might, Giancarla could hear no sounds except for her own whimpering and sobbing. She had already discovered that no matter how loudly she screamed, no help would come to her. She had no strength left to scream anyway.