Mrs Mariano: Part 1

by L Neil

  Frank isn’t beside me anymore.

  I look down the length my body to see him going down on me, his very light stubble softly scratching my thighs as his mouth works at my core. Strong hands grip my ass cheeks, angling me into position and keeping me in place.

  The intensity is almost unsettling. I still haven’t woken completely so my mind freaks out for a moment. Frank is known to separate the skin from people’s bodies and here he is practically feasting on me.

  But the pleasure is so exquisite that it quells my paranoia and all I can do now is twist and moan and pray that he doesn’t stop.

  But then he does stop and looks up at me, mouth slack and eyes unfocused. His gravelly voice is low and careful. “I couldn’t sleep. Not with you beside me…I…” he trails off. “Is this okay? Honey, are you upset?”

  I smile - I can’t help it.

  “I like it.”

  Returning below, he mumbles, “Fa le fusa, il mio gattina.”

  I know enough Italian to understand that he’s telling me, “purr, my kitten”.

  After thoroughly pleasing me, he climbs up and is inside of me so fast and I cry out at the pressure.

  It is an utterly delicious feeling when he moves his hips away and back again, driving inside of me over and over...

  When we are both spent, I confess to him that no one has ever made me come like that, nor that many times in one go. Between panting breaths, a smile sneaks across his face slowly. He loves it.

  Finally, he falls asleep.

  I had pictured him as a snorer, but he is actually quiet. I watch him for a minute, admiring the complete serenity on his face.

  The clock reads 03:02 and I am super thirsty. Must be from drinking all that wine that Frank insisted I try. That and our workout between the sheets.

  None of my clothes have been moved into Frank’s room yet, so I search his drawers and find myself a pair of black tracksuit pants and a grey, hooded jumper. It will do.

  I know there is a possibility of running into someone as we have security around 24/7 so I cannot leave the bedroom even half-naked.

  The outfit swims on me. I tie the drawstring of the pants tightly and it feels like they’ll hold. The baggy jumper cancels out the need for a bra, which is great because I cannot find mine.

  The hall is quiet and dimly lit and so is the rest of the house.

  I tiptoe down the steps and I have a vague idea where the kitchen is, so I should be okay.

  Quiet moments later and I made it!

  I don’t know where the light switch is but that’s okay. There is a small light coming from above the stainless steel, gas top stove and it provides just enough visibility for me to see most of this enormous kitchen.

  The counters are black and the cabinets are white in a modern farmhouse design…and there are about twenty million cupboards.

  I start with the overhead cabinets closest to the sink – no glasses there.

  I try a few more cabinets, making my way across the enormous stove. Still no glasses. The cupboards with glass windows contain porcelain plates and bowls, not glasses. There’s not even a mug in sight.

  Just as I consider giving up and drinking from my hands instead, I hear a voice nearby say, “Hi.”

  I spin around and it’s Alex, one of the new guards. He is so young and awkward and wants to know if he can help.

  I ask him if he knows where I might find what I’m looking for and he walks to the top cabinet at the very end, closest to the doorway that I had just come in through. He grabs a glass and holds it out for me with a smile.

  “Thank you,” I say as I walk over to him. “It’s embarrassing that I don’t know my way around my own kitchen.”

  He laughs as he hands it over. As I return to the sink to pour the water into the glass, he tells me that he wouldn’t have known where they were either, had he not been shown.

  We both agree that they should be stored above the sink or maybe in one of the windowed cabinets.

  Suddenly, I notice Dominic’s hulky mass glaring from the doorway.

  He switches the lights on and I blink hard to adjust my eyesight. Squinting, I snap, “That wasn’t necessary, thank you very much.”

  He ignores me and commands Alex to “Stand down".

  Poor Alex looks like the Red Queen has just ordered his head.

  “Alex, it’s okay,” I reassure him and then turn my attention to the large man with the sour attitude. “I don’t understand why you’re being so rude.”

  I really don’t. Alex and I are standing at least ten feet away from each other now and there had been no physical contact, accidental or otherwise when I took the glass from him.

  “You don’t fool me,” Dominic grates, his deep voice as rough as his tanned, pock-marked skin.

  My eyebrows climb in question and I challenge him, “What do you mean? What’s your beef with me?”

  He stalks inside the kitchen, invading Alex’s personal space but looking determinedly at me. He wants to say so much but only three words come out: “You’re a Gatti.”

  His statement rings in the air for a moment.

  I get it now. My father probably did something to him and he hates my guts. Sins of the father and all that.

  Just then, Frank appears in the doorway looking between the three of us.

  For some reason, I am reminded of when your dad comes in and finds you and your siblings in the middle of a fight. The oversized clothes and the loose ponytail only add to this feeling.

  “Is everything okay?” He asks cautiously.

  As he assesses the situation, I share a secret look with Dominic and I hope he understands the message: If you don’t hurt Alex, I won’t tell Frank what you said.

  I think he understands because he finally tells him, “Everything is fine. Your little wife didn’t know where to locate the glasses.”

  Frank looks unconvinced but holds out his hand for me anyway. His hand is warm and engulfs mine. I like it very much.

  As he leads me away, I look to Dominic again as if to say: I mean it.

  He grits his teeth in response but I think he will comply. I really hope so, for Alex’s sake.

  CHAPTER 7

  Bricks and Mortar

  Going casual in tight blue jeans, a grey cardigan and white converse sneakers, I spend the first half of the next day sorting out all of the things that need to be done after you (a) move house and (b) get married.

  Seamus is a life saver in this regard. He phones me back immediately after I leave a phone message with his secretary. He is using his cell phone, so I know he is out of the office. I suppose I must be important enough to drop other business for.

  He tells me that he will sort most everything out for me, from ending the lease agreement for the apartment to changing my name at the DMV - although I probably won’t be doing much driving myself anymore.

  The only thing he cannot do is sign my name, so I spend the morning by the computer, waiting for documents to come through to sign and email back to him.

  Frank has been away all morning sorting out some business and I receive a text from him just now – Morning baby. How is the paperwork going?

  To which I reply: We just finished ☺

  Then he texts back: The apartment keys are on the coffee table in the den. Remember, there is no spending limit. Enjoy, Mrs. Mariano.

  Later that morning, I am walking up the concrete steps to the fifth and top floor of the apartment building, trailing behind Dominic.

  Without a word, he practically pushes in front of me, saying that it is his job to go first to check for danger. I roll my eyes so hard that I’m surprised my eyeballs haven’t detached from their sockets.

  I have been trying to figure out a way to tell Frank that I want Dominic taken off guard duty and replaced with someone else, if it’s still even necessary for me to have a babysitter. But I must be careful – I can’t let Frank know the reason why.

  Alex is still in one piece, so that’s a win, I guess. He refuses
to even look at me however, which is understandable. Although, it might make it hard to do his job.

  I just don’t understand why Dominic is continuing to give him such a hard time. Perhaps he regrets making it known that he basically hates me. He probably doesn’t like that I have something over him and it puts him on edge. I mean, I can only imagine how Frank would react if I were to dob him in.

  He re-emerges from behind the heavy, wooden double-doors and says gruffly, “Clear.” I bet he wishes there was some serial killer hiding in the apartment, ready to take me out.

  No longer interested in the apartment, he leans again the wall out here in the hall.

  When I enter, I am met with a brick wall.

  Ah, it’s like an entryway. The wall is about four metres wide and I could go left or right to get to the space behind it.

  I choose right, my footsteps making a faint scratching sound on the small amount of debris scattered on the concrete floor. And then the entire living space is revealed.

  The first thing that grabs your attention are the long, paned windows. There are five of them, spaced across the entire length of the wall – the middle window wider than the other four.

  There are four pillars that form a square in the middle of the large space.

  My mind is already choosing the style of the furniture and decor that will occupy the space inside the off-white pillars that need a fresh paint, for sure.

  I swivel back around to look at this side of that brick wall that served as an entry way. I could mount a TV here.

  My mind races, getting ahead of itself. There is so much to do. And I have SO MANY IDEAS.

  To the right is a small kitchen counter, although calling it such is stretching a bit. The countertop is stained and the whole thing is dilapidated with its white, broken cupboard doors and old, rusted faucets. This is obviously going.

  The other side of the room is empty (that’s where the bookshelves can go) and behind that brick wall is a hall to the enormous bedroom and attached bathroom.

  After I’ve done some thorough exploring, I grab my notebook and pen out of my bag and begin to jot down every idea I have.

  The next stop is the jewellery store to buy my husband a wedding ring, in time for tonight’s reception. Marty helped me with sizing and we manage to pick a shining, platinum gold band.

  Afterwards, on the way home, my tummy grumbles and I request that we stop at the nearest cafe. I was so preoccupied this morning that I had forgotten to eat and it’s midday now.

  Molly’s is a small cafe that is almost swallowed by the stores surrounding it. The purple and white striped window awnings are cute and teamed up with the potted flowers out front makes the place very inviting. A bell rings as Dominic disappears inside to scope the place out. Not a minute later, he waves me in. All clear.

  The smell of muffins, pralines and chocolate chip cookies intertwine, and I immediately turn my attention to the food behind the glass display. What to choose.

  The moment gets sweeter when Dominic’s phone rings and he takes the call outside. I take a deep, cleansing breath and when I open my eyes, I am greeted with a slightly chubby woman about my age standing behind the counter. Her dark blonde hair is netted, and her pink uniform is a bit too tight for her large chest.

  She dusts flour off her apron as she asks me what I would like today.

  I order a caramel slice and a chocolate milkshake to go but when it is time to pay I cannot, for the life of me, find my purse. I must have left it at the jewellers.

  Just as I am about to cancel my order, a young man holds out some cash and says, “I’ve got it, Stacey.”

  As I try to rebuke his offer – because I never accept money from strangers – he smiles at me in wonderment and…I know him from somewhere. I’ve seen him before.

  While I try to place him, Stacey accepts his payment and his dimples deepen as his smile grows.

  He prompts, “We met Saturday night, at Medusa. After your performance.”

  Ohhhhh. I remember.

  “Yes, that’s right.” I sling my backpack over my shoulder again. “You were the kid with the notepad, said my voice was neutral.”

  His smile disappears and he stammers, “I…n-not your voice, just your accent, when you speak. When you sing, it’s…”

  “It’s ok, I know what you’re trying to say,” I laugh, to ease his mind and to stop him from complimenting me.

  He puts his hands in his pockets and Stacey hands me my lunch in a brown paper bag and matching paper cup.

  Just as I am about to thank him, he says, “Would you like to sit with me while you eat? There’s a free table over there.”

  He points in the direction at the back of the tiny shop, just a few steps away.

  Remembering that Dominic is just outside and could walk in at any moment, my smile slips. There is no way that Dominic can see this interaction, no matter how innocent it is. He would no doubt exaggerate when he tells Frank about it later on.

  My lunch is suddenly very heavy in my hands and I have no idea how to tell the new guy that I can’t eat with him.

  My hesitation must be obvious because the glow fades from his face. Oh hell, this is no way to repay him for his kindness - he has done nothing wrong.

  “I’m so sorry...I wish I could, but I have to be somewhere.”

  It is actually a half-truth as I do have to start preparing for tonight’s reception at some stage this afternoon.

  Still, he is hopeful. “Maybe some other time,” he smiles.

  Should I say something along the lines of, “My husband won’t like that, sorry”? That just seems like a really bitchy thing to do. I mean, he probably just wants to make a new friend. But there is no way Frank would be okay with that.

  Maybe I should start wearing my engagement ring in public. But what if it slips off? It needs to be resized before I wear it around all day. There is no way I can risk losing it.

  God, this is so awkward. I have never been married before. And I certainly haven’t been in a relationship with anyone as intense and protective as Frank.

  “I’m Eddie,” he holds out his hand. I had taken too long to say anything to end this conversation already.

  I glance out the window – Dominic is off the phone and is attempting to cross the busy road to get here. My heart is in my throat. I need to think of something quick. “Do you eat here often?”

  “Uh, yeah,” he says, and I can see the gears clicking into place in his mind.

  “Maybe I’ll see you here…same time tomorrow then,” I offer quickly and start heading to the door. “My shout.”

  He follows me like a goddamn puppy, telling me he will be here tomorrow.

  Dominic is jogging across the street now, mere feet away.

  We reach for the door at the same time but Eddie gets there first, those lovely dimples plastered on his cheeky face and his black eyes glistening with cheer.

  I feel a twinge of guilt about setting him up for a lunch date that isn’t going to happen. My plan is to drop money off in the morning, giving Stacey a big enough sum to cover Eddie’s lunch for the next week and to tell him that I am sorry to cancel.

  Dominic’s mind is elsewhere as he pushes the door open wider for me, not realising that Eddie has started to open it for me from the inside.

  “Thank you,” I say to Eddie, quietly, hoping that it sounds to Dominic that I am thanking him instead.

  Luckily, before Eddie can reply, Dominic says to me, “We need to get you home, stat. The dressmaker needs to get started asap to have it ready for tonight.”

  Eddie’s eyebrows drop and he looks between us in puzzlement. I quickly follow Dominic to the car and slide into the back. He closes the door behind me and takes the front passenger seat.

  I wonder what this must look like to Eddie, but I don’t wonder for long as my phone rings.

  It’s Mason & Charles.

  The car pulls into traffic, away from the café and I answer.

  It’s Timothy Mason and
he regrets to inform me that I no longer have a position at the firm.

  My first thought is that Frank has sabotaged this for me because he doesn’t want me to work and I am too stunned to feel the outrage that I know is coming.

  However, after asking if they had received contact as such, Mr Mason snickers, “No one has spoken with us. We just cannot, in good conscience, hire you Mrs Mariano.”

  After I hang up, the quiet in the car is unsettling. Were Marty and Dominic able to hear that whole conversation?