by S. W. Frank
“Geez, what happened to you?” She gasped at the sight of the stained bandages and the long vertical scar on his back.
“Hazards of my profession,” he replied and stepped into the porcelain bowl for humans.
The frown as she poured aloe into his water was endearing. She took a cloth and very carefully cleaned around the covered wounds in silence. He reclined, resting his arms on the rim as she brought the wet cloth through his hair and closed his eyes. The pampering felt good.
After a few minutes his eyes opened. “Come in.”
“We only have fifteen minutes.”
“Get in.”
She released the robe to the floor and slid into the water, avoiding his chest. “I’m in.”
“Where are you from?” he asked.
“Does it matter?”
“Answer the question.”
“New York.”
“You’re far from home. How did you end up here?”
“Money takes you many places,” she replied.
“You’re here by choice?”
She smiled. “Yes. Every call girl isn’t a sex slave.”
“What’s your name –your real name chocolate bunny?”
“Chocolate Bunny sounds good.”
He chuckled. Amazing, he could laugh while feeling heartache. “I like you Chocolate. If I make it out of here, care to keep me company?”
“I’m not cheap.”
“Neither am I.”
“If you live through this, maybe. You haven’t told me your name.”
Lorenzo held her waist. “Lorenzo sugar tart. In several minutes I need you to do as I asked and then I want you to leave.”
“Well, Lorenzo I can’t leave until my shift is over.”
“When is that?”
“Ten.”
“How can I find you?”
“I don’t know if I should tell a dead man.”
She went to stand but Lorenzo held her arms, pulling her back down to kiss her slowly with ample tongue. He spread her thighs and brought her hips down on his towering staff and she smiled, licked her luscious lips and then arched to rock and roll with his strong movements.
“Ugh…oh god…ugh!” Chocolate moaned as Lorenzo fucked her so good she wanted to keep the memories when sexing future customers.
“Kiss me Chocolate, come on sugar, and make me believe you love me.” He snarled taken over by sweet pussy.
She kissed his throat, sucking and sliding up to his mouth and spreading her reach to his earlobe. She held his shoulders, rotating her hips and captured every inch he gave with watery caresses to his stiff skin.
“That’s right Chocolate, give me more!” He demanded and she rode him faster, shrieking pleasurably as Lorenzo thrust with rapidity to her core.
“Aaaahhh…. ah…. dammit…. we shouldn’t!” Chocolate shrieked, but she couldn’t finish her sentence because Lorenzo shut her up with nibbling pulls to her breasts as he pulled in and out of her with such force her feminine walls buckled and then went haywire for more. Her lips sucked at his semen and she grappled with the virile man in shallow water.
“Come on Chocolate, I need hard loving!” Lorenzo growled, at the threat of coitus interruptus at the image of Thalia that nearly hijacked his body.
Chocolate’s lip quivered as he pushed in and held her immobile.
She held his shoulders, rotating her hips in rebellion to capture every inch of him until she flooded.
Lorenzo retracted with a smile.
Chocolate floated to earth thanking god she used oral contraception because a man like Lorenzo would leave her knocked up. The twitches below occurred when she detached and she exhaled. “Aaaahhh Lorenzo… I think your time is up.”
“Okay Chocolate, don’t forget to tell your Boss what I said and how I’m considering snapping his prize whore’s neck for being a huge disappointment. Between you and me Chocolate, I prefer sweet over sour.”
She laughed. “And I prefer hard over soft. If you want to snap her neck, go right ahead. I think the bitch is overrated, too.”
Chapter 15
Yosef motioned the guard away from the door. He spoke to the host Eisbär in Yiddish, instructing him to empty the villa and station double security around the grounds.
Eisbär declined his head, cognizant of the repercussions for failing to recheck the guest’s credentials. The payment of an extravagant fee had caused him to overlook the possibility that the man inside the room might be considered an undesirable client. He’d come highly recommended by an associate. He hadn’t any cause for alarm at the sight of the Cuvato name until the incident that left him no choice but to summon Yosef from his home.
Yosef entered alone through the unlocked door. A fully clothed Lorenzo Cuvato sat with a leg draped over his working girl. She looked scared shitless.
“You enter my business to disrupt the other guests when you were treated hospitably.” Yosef clucked his tongue. “That is the sign of a person with a death wish.”
“Maybe.”
“Release my employee. There’s no need for her to have your blood on her skin. I rather think she is soiled enough by your mistreatment.”
Lorenzo smirked at the strapping man with shiny strands of glistening silver in his dark hair. He was the Israeli he heard about, a man when angered was considered a brutal exactor.
“I need to speak to Don Alfonzo and I understand you’re the man to help me.”
“And this is how you ask for my help?” Yosef stated. He walked closer, his eyes on the guest who reminded him of someone he knew. “Lorenzo Cuvato, a man never enters another’s establishment, insult him by refusing to relinquish his property and then deliver a demand.”
Lorenzo raised his hand to show Yosef the gun that he had pressed to his employee’s spine. “Property? Then she is as disposable as leaven bread. Where there is one; there is another.”
Yosef’s mouth curved into a reversed U. “Hmm.” The woman Lorenzo held was a favorite of the Prime Minister’s wife. Yes, not only men frequented his business, very powerful women did also. In fact, he suspected Lorenzo Cuvato was aware of that. How he managed to slip past detection with a weapon, he planned to address later with Eisbär. “Mar her skin and yours will be peeled away very slowly.”
“I have a message for Don Alfonzo from Grigori Tsiakrokis. Get him here!” Lorenzo replied.
“Unfortunately, that is not an option,” Yosef replied. “You fail to understand that when you enter my business, I am the man who makes demands!”
Lorenzo hadn’t expected the woman to elbow him at his injury site and then duck to the floor.
Yosef pounced, whacking Lorenzo across the head as he seized his gun hand. The liquor and injuries slowed Lorenzo’s reflexes but in the struggle for possession of the weapon he found strength in sobriety. The gun discharged during the tug of war and the bullet went into the ceiling, raining plaster on their heads as the woman scurried out shrieking.
Yosef’s fighting skills were surprisingly efficient, and for a man of maturity Lorenzo completely underestimated the force of his punches until several times struck his torso and the pain produced a choking breath. The sutures opened and blood seeped through his shirt.
Lorenzo flipped Yosef over his shoulder, however Yosef yanked the gun free from his hand, and used his legs to capture Lorenzo in a fierce hold that rendered him unconscious.
Yosef stood, straightened his clothes and punched Lorenzo in the face for interrupting his dinner.
Chapter 16
“Enjoying yourself?” Alfonzo asked his wife as they mingled with guests in the elaborate hall after being bestowed a surprising honor.
Selange’s eyes were as sparkly as the wine glasses cradled in the hands of the finely dressed people ascending the stairs after at the lavish grand opening ceremony.
“It’s okay,” Selange replied with a shrug.
She considered telling him about her encounter with the Chairman’s wife in the restroom moments ago, but decided not to ruin his evening. Al sees red when extremely pissed. No, she thought, she’d stay quiet.
They stood in the far corner shielded from the populace by watchful security as the attendees began moving to the stairs. Selange watched the gowns on the older women as they climbed the carpeted staircase with haute expressions, holding the arms of their escorts. She wondered how many were from the ghettos or experienced poverty. Her love of classical music had been a gift from her father; a man whose horizons expanded from a hunger to experience every facet of living, through books and music is how a poor man traveled.
She stared after the white haired, perfectly coiffed sour-faced woman hovering over her husband, shuffling through the crowd and stopping to talk to guests and blinked away her distaste for the bigot.
The derogatory remark about mafia people and Selange behind their backs was typical of malicious cowards.
“Sí the hall looks fantastico. He is mafia scum –uncultured…he and his scimmia…he only wants seats on our committee for appearances, ne –ne!” She overheard the Chairman’s wife whispering as she urinated.
When Selange emerged from the stall, the woman blushed. Selange had calmly walked to the sink, looked in the mirror at the Chairman’s wife and washed her hands. The crabby woman venomous rhetoric reminded her why she’d always give to her community, people like the Chairman’s wife who believed they’re superior when her ignorance proved otherwise.
“My grasp of the Sicilian language isn’t as refined as yours, but I swear I heard you mention there is mafia scum and scimmia here. Scimmia is a monkey or something to that affect is it not?” Selange asked and then reapplied her lipstick.
The other patron quickly exited. She wanted no part of the fall-out.
Selange squeezed her lips together and made a plop sound on purpose.
The Chairman’s wife stammered nervously. “Signora Diaz I –I am uncertain what you mean.”
Selange waved her hand dismissively, sticking the lipstick case back in her sequined clutch. “Never mind, of course you’d deny saying anything as uncultured as that about someone who was kind enough to construct such a fantastic hall. But, I am honored that you feel my husband I should sit on the committee. I will accept the offer on my husband’s behalf.”
“Signora –Diaz I.”
Selange smiled ruefully. “No need to thank me. I’m sure breathing is very difficult when overwhelmed. Ciao!” Selange said and then proceeded to the door.
“What’s going on in that head of yours?” Alfonzo asked. The long male lashes partially shuttered the stark blue eyes during his intense examination of her face.
“Too much.” Selange quipped.
Alfonzo’s tuxedo fit to perfection. A gorgeous man, polished on the exterior, yet underneath existed a rough guy. He was far from scum as the woman suggested, simply a man making do with the cards dealt.
In the presence of high dome ceilings, she thanked the heavens for Alfonzo. Wealth and his position hadn’t inflated his ego. They sometimes exchanged stories of their childhood, sad things at times in retrospect, but experiences that shaped who they were.
Once Alfonzo recanted having to utilize the oven to heat the apartment when the boiler went out in their building. She frowned when he shared why his mom had closed her salon. After the lease expired she couldn’t afford the increase. He didn’t appear sad when he admitted he often worried about her in that place after dark, especially when she’d been robbed twice. He’d make it his business to escort her safely home. Selange disclosed she hadn’t gone on the senior trip because her mom couldn’t afford it, admittedly, she couldn’t afford a whole lot after her husband died and they made due on the bare minimum.
They both used music to soften the harsh screams of sirens as they lay in bed at night. Yeah music was a big part of their lives and books. Apparently, they were both looking for a means out of poverty and education seemed the perfect route. Alfonzo detoured. The hardest struggle was breaking away from the street and the allure of fast money.
What right did that woman have to call him scum?
Scum…scum? Hell, no! Selange, thought, Alfonzo is a great husband, a forgiving and strong man that respects women. He is a beautiful person, surviving.
She smiled affectionately at her husband, caressing his arm, thinking of Nicolo’s book, preoccupied with inner conflict, whether to ‘tell Alfonzo or not tell him’ that in Nicolo Giacanti’s autobiography they were part of the epilogue along with Nico and Vin Serano.
For the first time in her life, she wished she hadn’t read the old man’s autobiography. Mainly, because the words directly impacted her life!
“Okay mami, there’s something you aren’t saying.” The guards intercepted the Chairman as he approached with his snooty wife. Alfonzo gave Selange’s waist a tender squeeze. “When we get home you and I need to talk!” Then he inclined his head, in a subtle gesture for security to allow the couple through.
The Chairman bustled forward in his gently used tux, undaunted by the size of the Diaz’ protection. He wore a genuine smile that reached his eyes. The sway of extra skin at his neck resembled that of a turkey. His wife’s expression as they halted in front of the Diaz’ reminded Alfonzo of someone with indigestion. Alfonzo snickered; glad Selange never exhibited that kind of a sour countenance.
“Everyone is impressed with the new wing. Bellissimo they say. Again it is fantastico!”
Selange smiled at the Chairman’s wife. “Your lovely wife told me the exact same thing.” She leaned closer to Alfonzo, her sturdy post. “You know honey Signora Pascale asked if we’d sit on the board of the conservatory, isn’t that wonderful? Oh I was flabbergasted, especially after that lovely dedication ceremony earlier.”
Alfonzo’s eyebrow reached to his hairline. He wondered what the fuck occurred that had him sitting on some stodgy board without his permission. “Yeah?”
The Chairman looked questioningly at his wife. “Viola, that is a superb idea.”
Oh, babe, what the fuck is going on? Alfonzo pondered but played along. “My wife and I are honored by that, once again gracias,” Alfonzo stated.
“Ne –ne, the committee deemed it appropriate in light of your generosity. We are grateful you volunteered your time and services to complete the renovations without compensation.”
Selange’s eyebrow rose inquisitively. She had no idea Alfonzo volunteered for the project. The former founder of the non-profit organization that spearheaded the expansion was jailed for embezzlement a year ago. The contractors who initially began the extension, pulled out after months of non-payment. With tarp over the unfinished east wing, metal beams and moisture damage, the opera house remained closed hoping to raise funds for completion –until Alfonzo’s philanthropic deed.
“My wife is a lover of the opera. When I heard about your troubles, I had to step in to help.”
Orchestral music began to play alerting attendees of the impending performance. The Chairman’s wife scowled. Selange noticed the subtle squeeze to her husband’s arm.
“We must take our seats. Por favore join us in our booth.”
Alfonzo deferred to his wife. “Babe?”
“Uh, grazie Signore, but I was just telling my husband that I am not feeling well. We were about to say good-bye to everyone.”
“I am sorry to hear this, but we will speak again.”
“Sí, feel better,” his wife stated. “Ciao!”
“Ciao!” Selange muttered, agitated by the snooty w
oman’s rudeness. “Did you check out her nasty attitude Al?” Selange asked as the couple hurriedly ascended the carpeted steps.
Alfonzo grinned. “Let me guess, she said something foul and you leaned on her head.”
Selange started walking toward the lobby. “Sure did. I’ll see the performance another day. I’d rather have another glass of that champagne and cake before we leave.”
Alfonzo tried to hide his glee. “I’m in.”
“Besides, we can hear some of the music from there.”
A few stragglers mingled about, mainly couples about their ages who found the ambience of the dim lighting, open bar and free food more appetizing.
Alfonzo settled on a stool, watching his wife eat her cake minutes later. Drink in hand he surveyed the guests. They were smiling, enjoying their time. Occasionally, he observed someone look in their direction, but nothing adversarial, curiosity or some form of admiration he supposed.
“That was good,” Selange commented, and then reached for the flute of champagne.
“You’ve been wound real tight lately, it’s that book isn’t it?” he said, simultaneously pouring more champagne.
She drank. “Um, I need to tell you something.”
Alfonzo’s eyes were solemn. “Sometimes a person can absorb what they read, make it real for themselves.” He leaned an elbow on the counter. “I want you to understand, I’ll never let anyone hurt you or our family.”
“Al.” She peered into the empty glass. “Your father screwed up. He didn’t know about the contract signed by the families. Everyone who signed the oath back when Semira was alive pledged loyalty that extended to their future generations.”
The liquid disappeared as he listened. He had skimmed through the old man’s shitty diary. “Hmm.”
“Semira murdered people.”
Yeah, he read that, too.
“Al, honey, you have to meet with the families, negotiate an amicable settlement as restitution for unknowingly not adhering to the agreement.”
“Yeah?” He twisted around on the stool. “An amicable agreement, humph.”
Selange lifted the bottle, refilled her glass and guzzled. Alfonzo didn’t stop her. The fact was he needed to confide something important.
