by S. W. Frank
Sophie’s eyebrow rose sharply. Her mouth twisted to speak. “There is a time when grudges must go to bed.”
Shanda screwed her face at the woman’s meddling. She took a seat and lifted the spatula, dipping it in butter cream to spread over flaky crust. “Sophie, no disrespect but I don’t need a lecture right now.”
Giuseppe mother didn’t care and continued. “Sometimes we may need to call upon our sisters in troubled times. Every woman should have a trusted friend.”
A roll of the eyes from Shanda occurred. “To hell with that. I don’t trust anybody but myself.”
“Is that true, think about it?”
Shanda smeared too much cream on the next pastry and grimaced. Sophie talked too much at times. “I did or else I wouldn’t have said it.”
“Do you think carefully before you speak, because I do not feel so?”
Now here we go with the sermons. Why nosy old women are always up in young people’s business? Sheesh, Sophie really needed to get a life other than baking and counseling. “Um, well I can’t help how you feel.”
“Selange is your friend. She is calling you. Did you ever stop to think maybe she is seeking to make amends or she needs someone she trusts to talk to?”
“She’s got bitchy Ari the lawyer. Let her be an adviser.”
Sophie remained patient. Time. Yes, in time she would have Shanda in line. Bambino steps with this one are what she took. She took another spatula out of the drawer and assisted in covering the delicious turnovers. Two dozen were made for Signora Peglesi, Matteo’s mother. Sophie had shared Shanda’s delights and many of her friends loved the sugarless sweet treats with reduced calories. Giuseppe’s fiancé had a talent it appears and when baking she wasn’t as sour. Keeping Shanda busy, assisting in honing her skill would benefit a mother-in-law in the future.
Sophie worked in silence unaware of Shanda’s guilty glances. Giuseppe’s mom’s good intentions were not lost on a future daughter-in-law. For this so-called family peace that everybody wanted she extended an olive branch. “I’ll call the heffa back when we’re done.”
Sophie smiled. “Friends have names and I believe you mean Selange.”
“Yeah, that’s the heffa.”
The smile of a woman broadened. “Signora Peglesi would like you to cater her nephew’s birthday party in September. She said name your price, she will pay it.”
Shanda’s ears picked up at the opportunity to make her own money doing something she loved. A catering business for rich Italians with a sweet tooth was doable; it certainly trumped cleaning dog shit and keeping house!
CHAPTER EIGHT
Sub-Saharan Africa, is the area of the continent that lies south of the Sahara. Political and religious sections are not divided by socioeconomic status or the color of skin. In this case for geographical purposes Sub-Saharan African is the regions fully or partially located south of the Sahara, excluding Sudan. It contrasts with North Africa, which is considered a part of the Arab world. Somalia, Djibouti, Comoros and Mauritania are geographically part of Sub-Saharan Africa, but also part of the Arab world. Thus the Arab nations were set apart, given distinction which westerners and Europeans muddied with their prejudices to try to sever Egypt, in the north as somehow not part of Africa the continent. Africa from north to south it the Motherland, it is with all countries the further south one goes the climate is hotter, thus many with sun-burned skin.
Gamba’s hand turned the doorknob to the room of the Head Mistress or ‘Mama’ as the deaf children preferred to say. She slept, in a thin shift, translucent in which to see the shiny brown colored skin. The bedroom was cooler, yet the heat persevered. He made no sound as he stepped across the floorboards; only when he sought to do so did others know he was there.
Kefilwe means I am given and that is her name. It is beauty which she was given and the nurturing attributes of a woman he considered taking as his wife. Defiant in spirit was Kefilwe, which he sought to break until she bent to his will and came humble to his bed. That is what he hoped in the course of months but his patience had worn thin. So, break the defiance with power is what tonight he would do.
Gamba made his presence known by sitting on the bed.
Kefilwe awoke with a start. Her eyes did not show fear. “Gamba, what are you doing here?”
“To visit and be kissed by your mouth.”
“Gamba,” she said calmly sliding up, giving him a view of the full breasts with the beckoning points, seeking a touch to harden. “The children are asleep, this is inappropriate. We are not lovers.”
His hand touched her thigh, claimed it. “Kefilwe, did I not show generosity to your family?”
The proud young woman’s chin lifted. Generosity he called shortening eighteen hours to fourteen of her brother in the filthy mine he owned and the government failed to shut down. Working to death, her other two siblings and yet seeking praise. Abusive and tyrannical to laborers, but many in the world did not care. Only America refused to allow his diamonds exported to their shores, but Gamba was smart and found ways to get what he wanted. Soon legality will be his argument when questioned of alleged offenses, similar to corrupt corporations around the world.
“If you feel generous, my opinion will not matter.”
There was a sneer. “Do you not think it generous I have given you a nice position to sleep on soft linen out of the ghetto?”
“What I am given is my name.”
His hand slid up her gown to grab a breast. Her eyes were fiery. Gamba liked to see them so. “Tonight you will give to me.”
“Let go.”
He did not release, instead he leaned closer. She did not gasp like women do when he touched her valley, widening her legs with little pressure. “Choose Kefilwe to please me or take your brother’s place upon his death.”
Ah, then she gasped and bent. Power is the charm he used to make her want to give. But, there is fight in such women, proud in stature, and decent of heart. Even in submission she fought with her soul. “I know you Gamba, on all fours are how you like women, but I do not bow my heart to a man unworthy to value my soul. My flesh you take, but me you will never own!”
Angered at her comment he pushed her away. Defiant warrior woman to speak in such a way. She believed these words and he would teach her the lie of them. “Undress!”
Kefilwe lifted the gown over her head.
Gamba’s hungry eyes drank in the shapely figure which could bear him many children. Love was not required to fulfill duty. He would give her his seed and when it grew then her defiance would soften as would her heart. “Undress me!”
She did as commanded in silence. Her chin never lowered. Proud in the face of humiliation she did as told. When he was free of clothes, the most important lesson is what he savored. “Lie down and open your legs.”
Ah, the fire burned more in her eyes and the lip twitched angrily. Gamba’s mean eyes squinted. “Tell me you love me Kefilwe.”
Kefilwe took a deep breath. The life of her brother is what she used to soothe her heart and repel this vile man. “I love you.”
“Say you want me to take you.”
“I want you to take me.”
He was fluid, coiled as a human panther, stretching muscular arms and legs over her feminine body. He penetrated her folds like a conqueror. Gasp she did, moan and flow like the Nile to her lover. The lesson he taught Kefilwe during the orgasms shaking her body, causing her to seize hold to his and move wantonly without shame is she was a liar, and her body gave away the truth.
CHAPTER NINE
Home.
Geez, Alfonzo sighed when he arrived late
at night to find the house quiet. Giuseppe made a bee-line for the kitchen, but never passed the dining table when he spotted the platter of fudge cookies with a happy face welcome note with his name inscribed. “Ah, I love your famiglia fratellino!” he bellowed as he lifted a cookie which he ate in one bite.
Alfonzo shook his head and waved good-night as Giuseppe went to raid the fridge. The man could eat. Upstairs he found his angels asleep, kissed the twins and made rounds to the older children’s rooms to do the same before reaching the bedroom where he finally dropped his suitcase. He stood near the door, watching his wife sleep. She lay on his side of the bed, clutching his pillow in his shorts and t-shirt. The bedspread was kicked aside, crumpled flowery silk as if she’d battled material and claimed her win by bragging with uncovered limbs.
He undressed, tossed his clothes on the divan near the window and brushed his teeth before climbing in bed. She didn’t wake, too deep in slumber to feel the hand sliding over the slope of her hip. The smell of her skin was an intoxicant. He tried to spoon her ass but she kicked her leg, mumbling in her sleep. The second he decided to just wake her ass up, music from his cell alert him to a call…Nico.
Feet to the floor he groaned. The divan seemed so damn far. With forced energy he got there, turned his pant pocket inside out and sat atop his clothes, lying back with a leg extended to the windowsill. “What’s up?”
“Not good news.”
“Shoot,” he said confident the line was clear. He updated security features regularly; even in the house this was done. “Summary please, I’m dog ass tired.”
“Pasqual was a front man for this dude named Gamba. Diamond smuggler. Surveillance photos show his cousin, a guy named Moyo was at the docks. Guess what?”
Alfonzo didn’t like these guessing games. Besides, he wasn’t in the mood. “What?”
“Boo…ghosts.”
“Nico stop the crap and just say it.”
“There’s a consortium of jewelers buying his goods, dancing around the Kimberley Process.”
“Not of interest yet, what else?”
“I’m sure this will pique your interest. Meyers was one of the consortium investors, his brother is also and the man that owns the warehouse is one of the families on a list you got, old ghosts, if you catch my drift.”
Alfonzo’s head turned toward the door when Giuseppe walked right in without knocking. He’d slept the entire flight, Alfonzo hadn’t.
“What exactly are you doing?” Alfonzo asked when Giuseppe went to his closet and rummaged through hangars before emerging with a robe sporting an YSL logo on the pocket. The darn thing still had store tags.
“I need this and the combination to the cellar. Russian Vodka will help me sleep.”
Nico laughed in Alfonzo’s ear. “Good night, oh it’s fourteen hundred hours there, so it’s good morning to you and good luck with that asshole. Ciao.”
“Yeah, keep me updated, peace.” Alfonzo put down the phone and recited the code to Giuseppe. But Giuseppe had to get in a tease and stopped at the bed to simulate humping and waving his hand in front of his dick pretending he was smacking ass.
Alfonzo tossed the cell at the Giuseppe’s butt and he merely laughed. “She does have a nice ass fratellino; if I were you I would be a dog and burst through the back door portal as she sleeps!”
“Get the fuck outta’ here, ahora!” Alfonzo scolded with the remainder of his energy. Leisurely his crazy brother exited. Fatigue pinned Alfonzo to the divan. Thoughts of sex wiped from his mind as sleep won the war.
***
Nico hung up. He chuckled at his cousins and their antics. Boys they were to a man who had no time for childishness. The computer screen went black as a plate was set on the table along with his favorite brand of herbal tea. The perfume was gentle to his nose, pleasant and sweet, but it’s another’s he preferred. However, the present company was nice. He could talk freely with a comrade without concern, a freedom for a burdened heart.
“Eat,” Bianca said as she occupied a seat beside him, eyeing the screen. “In the Shona language Gamba means warrior. He will be trouble, I feel it.”
Nico nodded. “I’ve seen him before, on a boat disguised as a waiter.”
Bianca took the liberty of touching his laptop to scroll to an image in the corner. She zoomed in on the figure with the briefcase. Moyo, I have heard of him.” Her pretty mouth puckered in thought, unaware Nico studied her profile, thinking her beautiful, comparing her to others. “Yes, sí, I remember. He was mentioned in an article by the Human Rights Watch which had uncovered rampant abuses by the military in the diamond mines including forced labor, child labor, killings, beatings, smuggling, and corruption. The Human Rights Watch confirmed that many stones coming from that field were mined in the context of serious human rights violations. He was the military leader then. He is also Gamba’s cousin and has many political connections.”
Nico appreciated her knowledge. It was invaluable as he tried to correlate a link. Ari and Selange were going to Africa. He worried now about their trip to the region. He’d checked out the orphanage they were scheduled to visit and hadn’t found anything questionable. Philanthropy expanded beyond borders; there were many areas with corrupt regimes, yet international relief organizations entered daily. Doctors Without Borders, ICRC and FHI to name a few. As an academic Selange considered the global impact of funding education for the poor, altruistic in theory, nearly impossible in practice when many governments did not see education as a benefit to society. In fact in some views, enlightenment led to questions and ignorance of the population was preferable. Archaic, but very true, otherwise how else explain the poverty and marginalization which exists and that approximately seventy-two million children around the world remained unschooled?
Sub-Saharan Africa is the most affected area with over thirty-two million children of primary school age uneducated. Central and Eastern Asia, as well as the Pacific, are also severely affected by this problem with more than twenty-seven millions of such children. Nico quoted these statistics easily, certain since last he checked the numbers had increased.
He would do another excavation of the orphanage; dig harder before scaring Alfonzo who would forbid his wife to leave. Yeah, he’d stop her, that’s just the type of man he is.
Bianca had her elbows on the table reading his notes. “Who is this…eh…Seth Meyer?”
“A corpse. Dead. Deceased.”
“Um, these names…Abraham Meyer, are they related?”
“Yes, that’s his brother.”
“Jewelers?”
“One is and the other was the former manager of the New York Stock Exchange prior to his death.”
“This Pasqual was a very rich Spaniard. Was his business with Gamba diamond smuggling?”
“Apparently.”
“I will contact my brothers, they can learn more about him.” She said spinning in her chair and frowning because Nico had yet to touch the food. “Are you afraid I will poison you Nicolo Serano?”
The thought hadn’t crossed his mind. “No,” he said and took a huge bite of the sandwich and then several more, filling his cheeks like a boy, smiling as her lips parted. He gulped the ginseng tea, raised his eyebrow because she laughed and then set the cup down. “Satisfied woman?”
“Sí!” she answered, taking her thumb to remove a bread crumb from the corner of his mouth. Nico was such a handsome man and also very decent. The guilt of wanting what she could not display caused her to suggest he depart. “Go home Nico, spend time with the bambini.”
The statement generated a response. “I always do. I don’t need you to tell me. Anyway, Ari’s gone shopping with Semira in tow.”
“And your sons?”
“Why the interest Bianca?”
“Your happiness is my happiness.”
Nico scoffed. “Then make me happy and kiss me.”
She leaned to him, attracted by masculine magnetism. Too slow she must have been because he seized her waist, with the power of a weightlifter he brought her atop his lap and bent her spine with his kiss, licking her teeth and drinking her sweet tongue. His hands were on her breasts as he pulled away and looked into her eyes. “How old were you when you first killed, love?”
“Twenty-four.”
“Was it hard?”
“No?”
She gave him a quick peck on his nose. “It was not hard mio Nico because I killed for love.”
“Love?”
“You will not remember Francois Lemuer. He was a former member of the French Parliament.”
Nico’s brows furrowed as he searched his memory for such a name. “Tell me.”
Another kiss settled on Nico’s neck as she began to unfasten his belt. “He was Gina’s lover at the time and Alberti sent me. Your Uncle Luzo did not know of her indiscretion…then.”
“But Alberti did, yes?”
“Sí…of course…he knew many things mio Alberti.”
“Do you still think of him at night bella?’
“Sí.”
Nico raised his ass off the seat when she had stood and bent to yank down his trousers. He watched as she lifted her dress and shimmied from the black silk panties. A beauty of a woman, a specimen of pleasure was Bianca Luca and lethal to his groin. “I want you to live Bianca, I release you from me.”
She straddled him in the chair. He gripped her curvaceous hips and his heart pounded with heavy thumps when she lowered, moist and creamy micio took him in fully. Eyes open they stared at one another, dark souls bound. “In death I am released, kill me Nico if that’s what you want.”
“I will never harm you love.”
“Nor I you mio Nico,” she purred to his mouth as she rolled to him in union with such strength and balance he met her ardor with upward thrusts.
