The room was cozy, with an oversized plush rug underfoot and a large sectional sofa dominating the space. Family photos of smiling faces lined the walls.
Solana stumbled forward, the sound of her heels a scrambling rhythm as she was pushed to the center of the room. She stood there, trying to gather her composure, lifting her chin and rolling her shoulders back as she smoothed out her rumpled dress, like a nervous ingenue preparing for her first performance. The chandelier light flickered on, bathing her in a soft glow.
"Showtime!" the shorter man announced.
Meanwhile, the taller man shoved Tierra onto the sofa. She fell backward with a squeal, sprawling across the cushions as the slit of her burgundy gown tore with a soft rip. The tear traveled up her thigh, revealing the top of her sheer white stockings.
Nice, very nice, thought the men as their eyes roamed over her slumped figure on the sofa, her disheveled hair framing her face. Her chest rose and fell with shallow breaths as she pushed herself into a sitting position.
"Sorry about the dress," said the taller man, as he sat next to Tierra, his arm slipping around her shoulders. "Say, why are you and your momma wearing such pretty dresses today?"
Tierra kept her eyes on her lap, her fingers tracing the torn slit.
"I'll buy you a new one if you answer."
"Tonight was her first opera solo," answered Solana. She swallowed back the words she really wanted to scream: I can't believe you disgusting men are doing this to us on what was supposed to be one of our most memorable nights together.
"An opera singer, eh," said the shorter man as he sat on the other side of Tierra, placing his hands on her exposed thigh, caressing it. Tierra began pushing his hand away before thinking better of it, allowing it to settle around her stomach instead, ready to catch him if he moved any further up.
"How about you sing for us?" he asked, giving her knee a squeeze. "We could use some music to go with the show your mom's about to put on for us."
Solana's mouth tightened in anger at herself for having divulged so much information.
The taller man rose from his seat. "Shall we?" he asked.
Tierra remained motionless, her fingers digging into the fabric of her torn dress.
After a moment of silence, the man's smile faded. He leaned over, gripping her arm. "I said, shall we?"
He pulled Tierra to her feet. She stumbled, her dress fluttering as he maneuvered her to the center of the room near her mother. He positioned her facing her mother's profile, his hands gripping Tierra's shoulders to hold her in place.
"You stay right here."
The shorter man strolled over to the baby grand piano, picking up a sheet of music. He squinted at the title, fumbling over the words. "Care... Mee-oh Ben? By Gee-or-dan-ee? Is this what you sang tonight, sweetheart?"
"Caro mio ben," Solana corrected.
"Whatever," the shorter man sneered. "Sing it for us. Let's hear that opera voice of yours."
"And you get started too, pretty momma," said the taller man. "It's striptease time."
Tierra's gaze darted between her mother and the men, her chest heaving.
Solana's hands balled into fists at her sides as she fought to maintain her composure. The urge to rush to her daughter's aid warred with the fear of what these men might do.
"Please," she said. "I'll do whatever you want, just don't make her watch this."
"Oh no, beautiful," said the shorter man. "She stays right where she is. Consider it...an education."
"Alright, let's get started ladies," said the taller man as he slapped Tierra's butt, causing her to snap into attention.
Tierra looked at her mother, fingers clutching at her dress. Solana nodded, taking a halting step back as she began to unbutton her dress, starting from the top.
Tierra's voice quavered as she began, the once-powerful aria now barely above a whisper. The melody, triumphant earlier that evening, now sounded like a lament. Her voice cracked on the high notes.
The dress began to fall open, first revealing the rise and fall of Solana's breasts encased in her bra. The taller man leered, muttering, "Knew she'd have big nips."
As Tierra continued, her body trembled, each verse punctuated by shaky inhales and muffled sobs. The beautiful Italian lyrics were now almost unintelligible.
The dress continued to part, now revealing Solana's stomach and the waistband of her panties.
"Damn," breathed the shorter man.
The taller man began to pretend he was a famous conductor, moving his hands like one first in front of Tierra then Solana and back.
As Tierra sang, she looked at the portrait of her happy family -- her deceased father, Solana, and herself, all in formal attire. Suddenly, the picture of her father in the frame puckered his lips into a kiss, while the picture of her mom winked at her. Tierra squeezed her eyes shut before opening them, the portrait returned to its normal state.
The shirtdress parted further, revealing the outline of her intimate folds pressed against the soft material and the tops of her stockings.
Tierra's voice faltered as she approached the final verse, her throat constricting around the words. The once-beautiful melody had devolved into a series of choked whispers and gasps. Her eyes, brimming with unshed tears, darted between her mother's increasingly exposed form and the men's stares.
The dress fell open as the last button came undone, framing her body in a curtain ready to reveal. She touched the collar, pulling her dress off her shoulders, letting it fall to the floor.
Tierra struggled through the last notes, her fingers digging deeper into the fabric of her dress. The aria's final cadence hung in the air, a strained echo of the triumphant performance she had given just hours before.
The two men erupted into applause.
"Bravo! Bravo!" said the shorter man as he stood up.
The taller man let out a wolf whistle. "That's for you, baby," he said, pointing at Solana.
