Two Drops Of Water. Nicola Rocca

illness.

      It was something he'd always had, and the thing had pushed him to the margins of society.

      At first, people listen to you, maybe even smile. But then they realise something's not quite right with you. Their mood changes.

      The thing...

      He always tried to fight it, but he wasn't strong enough. It had got the better of him every single time.

      At first, when he still hadn't given it a name, the desire seemed to be coming from a remote part of his body, somewhere inside. This desire would become an irrepressible urge that he had to act on. He had to do whatever the illness told him to do. Even if it was wrong; even if it was evil.

      Especially if it was evil.

      He hadn't felt that irrepressible urge for a while now. The illness had simply become an integral part of who he was and what he did. He just did things. He no longer knew right from wrong. Real from fake. He'd lost trust in himself and there was every chance that others would soon lose their faith in him. There were certain things, certain words, that people just wouldn't forgive.

      And once you've lost that trust, it's hard to get it back,

      if not impossible.

      CHAPTER 17

      The bedroom was bathed in a pleasant half-light.

      Chantal was flat on her back under the soft, warm covers, her eyes open wide as she focused on what little she could see. It was late and she'd worked hard, but she didn't feel tired. Her mind was spinning with everything that had happened. It had been a busy day.

      She took a deep breath and closed her eyes as she exhaled. She imagined what Lavinia might have looked like. Tall, for a woman. Provocative red lips. Stylish, attractive glasses. Lavinia was smiling, her teeth perfectly white and straight. She was comfortable discussing any topic: politics, current affairs, food and drink, you name it. Honest, hardworking... the perfect employee.

      As Chantal opened her eyes, scenes from the life of the Lavinia she had just created in her mind began to play out on the ceiling.

      Lavinia was sat on the edge of an unmade bed, flanked by two men about fifteen years her senior. Her glasses made her sensual, sexy even. She licked all the way around her lips with her long tongue. She teased the mouth of the man on her right with one hand, the balls of the man on the left with the other. Then she grabbed one of the men's hands and placed it on her breasts, and slid the other man's hands slowly up her naked thighs until they disappeared under her skirt.

      Chantal glanced out of the window. She'd deliberately left the shutters open because she hated laying in complete darkness. Through the window, she could see that the sky was virtually pitch black and the leaves of a big tree were being blown by the cold wind of this never-ending winter.

      When she looked back up at the ceiling, Lavinia was wearing nothing but a pair of patent stilettos. She was on all fours on the mattress, sucking one of the guys' cocks. The other was pulling her by the hair as he fucked her from behind. Her back was a dead straight line between the curves of her shoulders and arse. Her moans of pleasure filled the room, providing a contrast with the panting and grunting of the two men.

      A really good girl, apart from her one vice...

      Married men.

      Chantal forced herself to fast forward through the sex scenes and resume the images just as the wives entered the room. First, the shock. Then, the transformation into savage beasts as they hurled themselves angrily at the slut and their cheating husbands.

      The scene made Chantal remember when she was betrayed by Giulio.

      As she tried to push that memory to one side,

      the images on the ceiling faded away. Chantal wondered what became of the two couples. Whether the wives had left their respective husbands as well as the B&B, or whether they'd forgiven them. It was pointless wondering, really. Sometimes, you had to experience situations for yourself to know how you'd react. It was all too easy looking in from the outside and judging people for the choices they made. 'I'd do this or I'd do that'. No, that's not how it worked. Life wasn't like that. You shouldn't criticise other people's decisions. How often did life just creep up on you? Throw a spanner in the works? Deal you the cruellest twist of fate? Put you at a crossroads? You have to decide which way to turn, and you know there's no going back.

      That's how it had been for her. When Chantal had walked in on Giulio screwing that girl, whatever her fucking name was, she'd realised that no matter how much she loved him, she would never be able to forgive him.

      As she came back into the here and now, she realised her quiet sobbing was the only sound in the room. Tears streamed down her face.

      She took a deep breath and told herself everything would be OK.

      She was at the B&B now, a long way from home. A long way from people and places that didn't deserve her. She was ready to start over.

      Chantal wondered if the other girls who had worked here had also taken the job to get a fresh start. Or perhaps it was just to tide them over financially until they found a permanent job with a proper company in the city. She would have liked to speak to one of those girls just so she could ask them about the role of...

      What was it she was actually here to do?

      ...factotum.

      Who knows why they all left? She thought back to how sad and embarrassed Alfredo had looked when he spoke about his former employees.

      Why was he like that?

      At one point, Chantal had even thought he was about to be sick. But he didn't seem the shy type. He'd reeled off Lavinia's sexual exploits as nonchalantly as if he were reading out a shopping list.