Elsa

“Oh my God, Marcello,” I breath, squirming from under him. “What happened?”

I softly touch his body, as if trying to magically heal his injuries.

“I promise I’ll tell you everything, but not today. Okay? I need you to be well rested, fed, and above all—sober. You’re very thin, Elsa,” he says then, caressing my body, tightly wrapped in black fabric. “I’m getting the impression you’re not feeling too comfortable in those clothes.” He rolls me over to my belly.

Slowly, he starts unzipping the skirt.

"Marcello," I murmur.

"Mmm," he looks up at me.

"You know we are in my friend's house, right?" I don't think it is...