Adversary

by S. W. Frank

  “What’s so funny?” he asked, locking the door. Their schedules conflicted of late and he realized she’d engrossed herself in charity work to the point he actually needed an appointment to get in her drawers. Their sex life suffered. She'd begun getting in late or on-line after the children fell asleep doing research in preparation for her Africa trip. Four days of half-ass affection had taken a toll on his dick. If he had to get it on in the office, so be it, to hell with who heard them fucking, that’s what grown people did!

  Selange wiped the secretions from her face. “Oh –oh,” she pant but hadn’t managed anything coherent.

  Alfonzo found her joy contagious and smiled. It widened at the sight of the mascara smudges staining the high cheekbones like war paint. He had an hour before his next meeting and figured the best way to spend the time was between his wife’s legs being fed pussy covered grapes. The image of being pussy-fed got him to thinking, thus the seedless fruit he held in his hand. As she tried to pull herself together, he removed his jacket and placed it on the back of the chair and the grapes went atop her papers. The silk tie Amelda designed he loosened from around the stiff collar and then pulled it free.

  “Alfonzo what are you doing?” Selange finally managed to articulate.

  That smile when he hunched to the floor and turned her chair to face him was as naughty as the hand parting her legs and the finger tearing the crotch of her lace panties to gain unrestricted access. She voiced an objection, “These were new.”

  “Ah, I’ll buy you more, nena.”

  He pulled her ass to the edge of the seat and reached for one of the grapes. Selange wiggled when he inserted the fruit. “Only one?” she asked seductively.

  “Oh shit,” he responded, “how many can a honey hive hold?”

  “More than one that’s for sure.”

  He grabbed more and inserted one at a time through her slit to feed the vaginal meter. She wasn’t laughing anymore he noticed when his face was between her thighs licking lace and honeyed skin. He had her undivided attention when his tongue darted in and out to touch the grapes.

  Selange flushed from the lingual intrusion and the tingling sensation as the grapes clogged the doors and lobby. “You’re so…wicked...oooh.”

  Alfonzo’s fingers pressed her thighs, keeping her immobile as he orally feasted. Soon his mouth opened and he said, “Feed me, I’m hungry.”

  Alfonzo’s spontaneity made her glad those Kegel exercises worked. The internal contractions propelled the grapes through supple gates into his open mouth. He chewed and swallowed, the naughty boy. “Now give me an Australian kiss,” she ordered.

  “Umm I already did. But if you want more greedy woman, fine,” he answered without hesitation before going down on her again flicking his tongue like the lever on an old pinball machine causing her to gasp and cum.

  “Honey…oh…sheesh,” she cooed, caught up in the frenzy and didn’t care when he tore the fragile undergarment to threads before undoing his pants. She was airborne, then cradled in the crook of the wall, suspended in air by strong arms.

  When he penetrated her interior the chica was so damn wet his dick got a much needed shower. The throbbing ache took on a new sensation as he pinned her ass against the wall with each jackhammer motion. The woman deprived him far too long and he needed to drown the want. She started to moan real loud and he cupped her lips closed by sucking them shut. He pummeled the wall with her ass and the second he gave her mouth air gibberish flowed but he didn’t care. He converted her to an ancient religion making her speak his name in tongues. “Al…uh..fon…uh…zo…hun...wha…ah…oooh…!”

  Selange’s ass did rapid clenches and the heavy-duty partitioning shook with each forceful penetration. Better than a dream his brain screamed as he sucked at her throat and left a trail of saliva marking the path to her mouth. He had to feed his Selange addiction. Tear me to shreds babe is what he requested with each pumping action in and out of her vaginal folds. He grumbled in heat, lifting her ass higher, sucking her throat, making his babe use profanity in strings as she clawed at his shoulders trying to hold back a sex junky fiending for his wife. She was losing pitifully, whimpering and biting her own damn lip it felt so nice.

  The sticky film clinging to his dick felt so good he wanted more. His initial plans for a brief office romp turned into a lengthy invasion. A firm hand lifted her dress to her throat. His face was between her breasts, stretching the material of her bra with his teeth until her breast came out of concealment for him to eat. He was sucking and pumping and the action had her sliding up and down the wall like Spiderwoman. Then her cell rang and rang.

  Alfonzo gave an order between bared teeth that sounded like a growl. “Nah, chica…coño…do not consider answering that motherfucking phone!”

  He pumped with such fervor she bounced under the force and clutched his shoulders. The last thing on Selange’s mind as Alfonzo hit that G-spot was answering a call.

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

  CHAPTER TWELVE

   

   

   

  The meal was eaten in silence. Since coming home from Puerto Rico, Shanda was insufferably miserable. Perhaps, she remained angry he chastised her behavior without use of flattering words. She was to censure her mouth and respect his brother, finale!

  Greens and poultry were pushed around the plate from the sullen woman who had yet to forgive a Don’s late arrival for dinner. Shanda read more into his actions than other women ever did. Giuseppe finished his Mediterranean Salad, washed the leaves down with hard liquor and made an excuse to leave. The mood had been soured and he saw no reason to continue with forced conversation with his bella who could not forgive. He had presented her with a painting of their family, a beautiful oil of colors that rivaled the masters on the ceilings of grand Cathedrals. Who knew Nico had such talent until Giuseppe visited and saw the works in his man-cave. “I want one!” Giuseppe had demanded in his usual tone and expected Nico to say no simply because the man was often disagreeable. Yet, the stranger Nico acquiesced and asked, “What would you like realism, impressionism, what?”

  Ha, the questions were not for an ignorant lover of beauty and Giuseppe’s response was direct. “Who gives a fuck cugino? I only want a family portrait to hang in my home!” Then he removed a picture from his wallet and placed it beside the different brushes sitting vertically in a can.

  Nico did not pick up the picture, instead he simply eyed it, smirked and lifted the beer to his mouth and it hovered there. “What an ugly family photo. Where was that taken, the mall?”

  “Vaffanculo, obviously, you are jealous!”

  Nico had gulped the brew and it sprayed the floor at Giuseppe’s asinine remark. “Me…jealous…of you…what have you smoked cugino?”

  “Eh,” Giuseppe said picking up his precious photo and waving a ringed hand at the bastard who he liked and sometimes hated. He thought the agreeable Nico was far better than the insolent arrogant enforcer; however, separating the two was as impossible as ripping color from the skin. “Never-mind cazzo. Tell Ari grazie for the lunch and I hope she leaves you soon!”

  Three weeks had elapsed since then and he’d forgotten about the conversation. Unimportant things were always secondary to business, of course, forgetting their dinner date was not because Shanda was unimportant but due to meetings throughout the day and evening. Being a diplomat with surly men was time-consuming. Many took advantage of his newfound fake patience and tested its authenticity. Ah, he failed each time. Giuseppe Dichenzo admitted he was not concerned about petty issues. Who had such conditioning to sit and listen to silly squabbles such as Don Stupido’s mistress offended my wife at the market or Don Asshole hasn’t paid his tab in a year? These were minor spats and those which mattered were the only ones Giuseppe cared to mediate. Turf wars, newcomers and upstarts are where he focu
sed. Yet, his bella knew nothing of his real troubles nor did she care. He’d arrived, albeit late but he’d come bearing gifts.

  “I must go out,” he said standing, eager to find more affable company.

  She looked at him. A fork was placed slowly down and she stood also. The dog must have sensed an altercation was imminent and he whined and lay on his paws near his master. “You come in here whenever the hell you please and then when I call you on your bullshit you want to run?”

  “Run. No bella. I walk out the door. See?” he said and strode from the dining room.

  Shanda yelled. “You walk out the door, stay out.”

  He stopped and turned. “I will return.”

  “No the fuck you won’t. You think I don’t know what you’re doing?”

  The humor had fled. “What do you think you know?”

  “You’re screwing Lucia aren’t you?”

  Giuseppe’s humor returned in a chuckle. “You know nothing then.”

  “I’m not going to play second to your bitch Giuseppe the Almighty. I mean it, the wedding is off!” she shouted and tossed the ring at his head.

  He looked down at the ring. This was his grandmother’s flawless diamond, antique to some, but history in each carat. He picked it up from the floor lovingly and strolled to where she stood, took her hand and forced the ring back on her finger. “Let us be clear bella, you do not renege on a promise to me. I love you but you do not give ultimatums to a Don!”

  He released her wrist and exited.

  Shanda sank to the sofa. “Motherfucker,” she said to the darkness of the living room. This is when she wished she could turn back time. Giuseppe was like the other guys just finer with money but a lying sonovabitch nonetheless.

  Maybe, this is what she gets for wanting what Selange had. A man with eyes like Alfonzo didn’t mean he had his heart. Air her dirty laundry out is what occurred as a child slept upstairs and his father whored around on the mother after promising he wouldn’t. Yeah, she was jealous of Selange, what damn loveless woman wouldn’t be? Look at how her man adores her, kisses her feet and obsesses over her happiness in spite of what she did? Who loves like that, who the hell loves you even through the bad? A real love does, but Giuseppe didn’t love her that way and neither did her dad!

  Men.

  Shanda never cried over a motherfucker, but there’s a first for everything. She cried because she felt helpless to counter a powerful man’s offense. She cried because she’d been horrible to her best friend. It wasn’t Selange’s fault she had good genes and lucked up in the love department. Luck, heck it’s more like fate. She’d lost a mother dammit to gain Alfonzo, maybe that’s the part Shanda just began to understand. Evil stole and Good returned.

  Then something made her stop the bawling. Hell, why was she crying? When she thought about things, she realized she was lucky. Her parents were alive, and this trial with Giuseppe wasn’t much different than those she faced before, except she didn’t have a child with any of those busted ass men and probably didn’t love them enough to want to hold on. They weren’t shit and neither was Giuseppe, he was just richer and better-looking and a beast in bed…and…oh hell…she loved him but she had to make a stand!

  She got up and took out her cell to call Selange. The minute Selange answered Shanda exclaimed, “Don’t say it girl.” Her voice shook from emotion because out of all the fake bitches, Selange was really the one she trusted. She liked Amelda but they weren’t tight like that, besides the woman was Giuseppe’s brother. “Giuseppe’s back to being a man-whore and I’m sick of it…I’m fed up girlfriend!”

   

   

  ***

   

   

  Alanda’s tranquility and soft countenance is what Giuseppe required to conclude the harshness of the day.

  He strangled a thief this afternoon. Choked life from his body. Nine years of politeness ended with an early retirement. Then there is the worrisome business of family. Matteo climbed him like a monkey, instructing he not do this or do that, an old hag that Matteo. And of course, the anxiety he had over his brother. These dooming forecasts were disturbing. Instinct, he always said, but Giuseppe would only see death and coffins. His father, Uncles, his fratellino and now his woman and son. Bad images he preferred to keep at bay. Women, exercising his right to do as he pleased helped Giuseppe stay free and not imprisoned by what would come…death.

  He did not understand Alfonzo sometimes. A powerful man had many concerns and Alfonzo’s obsession with their father had made him begin to fight himself. Luzo Palazzo was an ass, Alfonzo was not. Stubborn, humorless at times, yet honorable is the description assigned to his caring brother. But, he did not see his goodness. Alfonzo did not see he was blessed with many children and yes, a loving imperfect wife.

  Giuseppe rubbed his forehead harder. The pain came occasionally to his skull. The shooting had left many scars, but he would not allow Shanda to run and flee from commitment. He wanted to marry her; he wanted her as his wife. The dalliances were habitual, very hard to break this learned behavior. He had tried but it cost him peace to do so. The ache worsened and he bowed his head which Alanda rubbed silently. “Dispiace bella, I only need quiet and sleep.”

  Alanda’s softness mellowed him out as he stretched clothed only in skin. She let him lie there, rubbing his member and thighs. It felt good but the headache prevented him from rising.

  “I will get you something for the pain,” the sculptress whispered in the dark and he heard her leave.

  She returned with pills and his eyes opened to read the label. It is not he did not trust her but habit made him skeptical of others. He took two pills and swallowed them whole. A sip of water followed and he reclined his head waiting for the drug to take hold. He did not want to leave his home. He was wracked with guilt, but the headache had begun and Shanda was too angry to give him peace.

  Rubbing softly Alanda whispered, “Relax…sleep mio Geo.”

  His body followed her command.

  “I will take care of you.”

  The words cut through the ache.

  The medication began to work.

  Gently as feathers she massaged his forehead. “Sleep…sleep.”

  She nuzzled her head to his chest and he gripped her hard. Alanda is who he held when he nodded under the analgesic thinking of the warning on the bottle not to operate heavy machinery, which he considered his dick. Sleep is what came. Dreams of his son and Shanda brought a smile to his mouth and a twitch. 

   

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

   

   

   

  Sweat.

  Slid like liquid ice.

  In a continuous stream it flowed from the men’s scalps.

  It oozed along the contours of skin and then dripped from their chins.

  The perspiration of sparring men struck with quiet collision to the porous mat.

  Breaths, more akin to pants barreled the massive chests.

  Chests heaved in opposing rhythms from the pounding of internal drums. Upon inhalations, concave indentations formed below washboard abs and the base of the neck where flesh meets bone. On the sideline were walls, barbells and the stuff Alfonzo considered props for those who required assistance. It’d been months since the shooting and that’s how long it took Alfonzo to fully heal. Today he wanted to test his body’s conditioning against Tony’s MMA skills and found himself disappointed that his opponent wanted to play ‘Blow Smoke Up the Boss Ass’ instead of going for a win like a hungry fighter.

  Opponents stood their ground, equally matched and improperly geared in basic gym shoes and shorts. Tattoos in bold color and dark shadow hid scars on a canvass of flesh which belonged to the younger of the two by perhaps a year. Tony followed his Boss’ lead and stepped forward to the center of the mat to begin round two.

  Alfonzo flexed in agitation the taut muscles pronounced where it counted and sneered at Tony for holding back when wha
t he wanted was a goddamn challenge. Pummel the shit out of me, strike with everything you got, his mind screamed in silence. He needed to feel the hits and come back swinging because that’s how he responded to life.

  Alfonzo’s eyes focused on Tony’s. There wasn’t much of a height difference. Their weight was nearly equal. Alfonzo’s only advantage was his position as the Boss. He wanted Tony to chuck it aside and come hard. “Bring your best every time in the ring with me Tony, comprende?”

  Tony nodded. He’d held back a tad. He also underestimated the level of Alfonzo’s skill. He hadn’t seen the man in physical combat and assumed a gun or knife were what he used to cut down men because Alfonzo never bragged about having any formal martial arts training. Tony knew he worked out a lot but assumed it was for fitness like other health conscious people. But, that first round proved the guy had extremely lethal limbs. Since learning Alfonzo could handle a punch and more than a handsome rich dude, Tony gave his boss a run for his money.

  In rapid succession Tony struck making contact with Alfonzo’s golden skin and the response he received rattled his bones.

  Jab, high kick, uppercuts and hooks. Head and arm holds, broken by good defense strategies. Joint locks, clinches and neither man submitted. It’s the lightning speed of agile limbs that garnered a takedown. Tony’s face pressed to the mat in submission. Middleweight guys equally skilled, but the fighter who came out on top was the Don in a fight with himself.

  He released Tony, backing off and both men were up on their feet. Pants, open faucet sweats rushing down rivets of different colored skins.

  “That’s what you bring in the ring with me Tony. I want you to make me work, challenge my ass!”

  Tony smiled during the heavy breaths. “Count on it!”

  “So,” Alfonzo said as he snatched a towel to dab his face and arms, “the lady excited about coming?”