The Italian

Forty-three pairs!

“What man owns forty-three pairs of shoes?” I scoff. “That’s just ridiculous.”

I grab my gym clothes and walk into the bathroom, and I freeze. The tube of lubricant is on the sink as if it’s just been washed.

Wait…

I thought I put that back in Enrico’s side drawer this morning when I got out of bed specifically so that nobody would see it. We use it when we get super naughty, he’s too big and likes it too rough.

I open the lid of the clothes hamper and peer inside. There’s a lone pair of my panties sitting in the bottom. I reach in and dig them out. I did not put these in here.

I carefully inspect them… they’re dirty. These were in my suitcase with my other clothes that needed to be washed.

I look around the bathroom, knowing something is off here.

My eyes widen at once. What the fuck? Was Sergio in here jerking off to the smell of my dirty panties?

Is that what he was doing upstairs?

A cold shiver runs through me. No… surely not.

I drop to a sit on the bed—dirty panties in hand. This is fucking weird.

What guy would go into his boss’s bedroom and jerk off to his boss’s girlfriend’s panties?

My phone rings. It’s Natalie.

“Hey, how did you go?”

“Oh my God, I have to get this job. The guy who interviewed me is fucking orgasmic.”

I smile as I look down at the panties in my hand. “Really?”

“He looked like Elvis. Love me tender, baby.”

I burst out laughing. “You’re hilarious. What did he say?”

“He said he’s going to call me tonight and let me know if I got it.”

“Great. How do you think it went?”

“Good, I guess. When I wasn’t imagining myself sucking his dick under the table.”

I shake my head as I laugh. “Tell me I’m crazy over here. I need you to talk me off the ledge.” I close my bedroom door and go into the bathroom so that nobody can hear us.

She laughs. “No, I can’t do that. You are completely mental.”

“Listen, do you remember the other night when I told you that a guy asked me for my number, and then he said ‘I have to go, my boss is here’ and his boss was Enrico?” I whisper.

“Yeah.”

“Well, he turned up here today to work, and his name is Sergio.”

“At the house in Como?”

“Yes, and he was giving me the look.”

“What look?”