by Tia Siren
“No, boss. Something good I hope,” he said, a cheeky grin etched across his face.
“No, Christian. While you were, in all probability, dipping yourself in some super model, I was being held at gunpoint in my own fucking bedroom.” Fabio's voice reached a deafening crescendo. To add effect, he slammed his fist onto his desk, which sent a pen flying up into the air.
Christian's expression changed. “What? How?”
“You tell me. This house is supposed to be guarded like Fort Knox. I want you to find out why it wasn't.”
“Sure, boss. Who was the man?”
“I don't know, but he was fucking my wife. She's in the basement. Go down and make her tell you who it was. Use as much force as you need.”
Christian went down to the basement and opened the door. He saw a tearful Maria sitting on top of the washing machine, smoking a cigarette from a gold holder.
“Who was he, Maria?” Christian asked.
“What are you going to do to me if I don't tell you?” she said.
Her mascara had run, and her skin looked blotchy. She'd obviously been crying for some time. “I'll have to torture you until you tell me,” he said harshly.
“That's Christian, ever faithful to my husband. You'd jump from a bridge if he asked you, wouldn't you?”
“Yes. He's been very good to me. Without him, I would have been a nobody.”
“You're the most beautiful man I've ever seen, but you're an asshole,” she said. “You're stupid for believing what he tells you. He's just using you.”
“The name please, Maria. I really don't want to have to hurt you. Spare yourself.”
She knew what he would do to her, and it would hurt. “You will never find him. He lives abroad, far from here.”
“After this, I won't ask again. What's his name?”
“Alexander Gorev.”
“And where does he live?”
“I just told you, dumbass. He lives abroad.”
Christian walked toward her and knocked the cigarette out of her hand. “Don't ever call me that again. Now, where does he live?”
“He's Russian. He lives in Moscow, and if you're stupid enough to go there, you'll never come back.”
“Thank you, Maria,” he said. “I really wasn't looking forward to dragging it out of you. You know I've always thought you were a nice-looking woman. If Fabio hadn't been my boss, I might have had a crack at you myself.”
“Don't flatter yourself,” she said.
Christian took a look at her. Who knew, it may have been the last time he saw her, he thought. He'd been working for Fabio for ten years, and he'd always fancied sleeping with her. She could have been his Mrs. Robinson. He would have like that.
“He's called Alexander Gorev, and he lives in Moscow, boss,” Christian said. Fabio looked out of the window and noticed the guards doing their rounds. “Maria says there's no way we'll be able to get him.”
“If he's fled to Moscow, we probably won't. We don't have anyone there. Find out if he has family, anything we can use in the States to persuade him to come back. And find out why my guards missed him.”
“Maria. She told them he'd come to fix the boiler,” Christian said immediately.
“Make sure she leaves as well,” Fabio said.
Half an hour later, Christian returned with a smile on his face. “He’s got a daughter named Amy, and she lives in LA. She's an American citizen.”
“How the hell did you find that out so fast?”
“Maria knew more than I thought.”
“Did she tell you where she lived?”
“I had to really persuade her to tell me that, but yes.”
*****
“Right, listen up, Alberti,” Fabio said as he looked at Christian and Alberti. “Christian has found out that the dog that fucked my wife has a daughter named Amy. We're going to kidnap her. This afternoon she's attending a friend’s wedding. Christian is going to the wedding, and he's going to charm her.” Alberti nodded and drew on his cigarillo. “Christian is going to befriend her, get her to the street under some pretense, and bundle her into the car. You are going to drive her to Oaktree Lodge and keep her locked up.”
“Okay, boss,” Alberti said.
“Remember, Christian, no fooling around with her. I know what you're like. If you put a finger on her, I'll cut your hand off.”
Christian recognized the look Fabio was giving him and knew he meant it. “Don't worry, boss. I'll behave perfectly.”
*****
When Christian walked into the wedding reception, women turned their heads. The reception was in the garden of a luxury hotel in Beverly Hills. The guests were the smart set, people from Hollywood and big business. Christian also recognized a few people from his line of work, organized crime. He laughed to himself when he noticed the chief of police talking to man Christian new had murdered someone just two days earlier.
Christian didn't have an invitation, but no one would notice; there were so many people.
“Hello. What's your name?” a woman asked.
“Christian,” he replied.
She was in her sixties. She had been good looking at one time, Christian could tell, but she was way past her sell by date now. “You're very handsome. How much do you charge?”
“What?” he said.
“Your price. What is it? Dear boy, do you think I could get a man as nice looking as you into my bed without paying him?”
“I'm not a gigolo.”
“But you do have a price, don't you?” she asked.
He flashed his white smile at her. “Yes, of course. Five million dollars. Now fuck off out of my way.” The woman looked frightened and moved away.
“That wasn't nice,” someone else said, coming up to him.
“What wasn't?” Christian asked.
“The way you spoke to her. She's old.”
“Not too old to ask me to fuck her,” he protested.
“I'm Amy,” she said.
Sometimes Christian wondered about life. Here he was trying to find Amy, and something had brought her to him without him even having to try.
“Nice to meet you, Amy,” he said. She was wearing a long silver dress that revealed her breasts and clung to her hips. She had long dark hair that curled its way to the middle of her back and the most beautiful face Christian had ever seen.
“How do you know Madison?” she asked.
He had no idea who Madison was, but he guessed she was the bride. “Oh, I'm on the groom’s side. Went to school with him,” he bluffed.
“It was a terrible shock, her getting pregnant so soon after they'd met, wasn't it?” Amy said.
“Oh yes, such a shock,” he replied, hardly able to keep a straight face.
This is one hell of a good-looking guy, Amy thought as she let her eyes flow over him. Tall, athletic, and the most wonderful eyes. Decent bulge as well, she noted.
“Come and dance with me,” he said, taking her hand. Before she had time to respond, she was in his arms, being carried effortlessly around the dance floor.
“You're very beautiful,” he said. “What do you do for a living?”
“I'm a student of music.”
“You can play my instrument all day long,” he joked.
“Vulgar,” she said.
“That's me, though. I say what I want. I don't care whether you think it's vulgar or not.” She gasped when he pulled her tighter to him and navigated them around another couple.
“You dance well,” she said, aware that her thigh was dangerously close to a place it shouldn't be.
“Self-taught. Hundreds of hours dancing with beautiful women like you.”
“You're not very modest, are you?”
“No. Why should I be?”
“How many women have you had?” She noticed she was slightly turned on by his arrogance.
“A lot. Many different kinds of women. I love women; they are so unpredictable.”
“You are Italian, so I guess it's in your
genes. Italian men are continually horny.”
The music changed, but Christian still held her and danced at his own pace. He wanted a slow grind, and that was what he was going to get, just as soon as he'd warmed her up.
“Yes. We're all sex mad,” he said, laughing a bit.
“You aren't married, are you?” He shook his head. “Girlfriend?” she asked.
“No. You can have me if you want.”
She laughed. “What makes you say that?”
“Because you keep putting your thigh against my crotch and make no attempt to remove it. You know you are turning me on, and you want to.”
“I do not,” she protested.
“Oh yes, you do. You can deny it all you want, but you like me, and you want me. Look at the color of your cheeks.”
“You're crazy,” she said as she tried to pull away.
“Stop your feigned shock. I'm not one of those guys you can pussy whip into submission.” He pulled her waist back to him and turned them in another direction. He bent down and let his lips glide gently over her neck. He heard her gasp. “See. You like it, don't you? You also like it when you feel me getting hard against your leg.” He leaned into her, put his mouth to her ear, and whispered. “What turns you on?”
“What?”
“From behind, I'd say. You look like the kind of girl who enjoys being rammed from the rear,” he said.
“You're so uncouth.”
“And you're so fucking beautiful that you make me like that.”
“You've only just met me, and you dare to talk to me like that?” she asked.
“Yes, I dare. I told you before, I get what I want.”
The band announced they were taking a break. “If you think I'm easy, I'm not. You'll have to work for it if you want it,” she said. “Fetch me a drink.”
“Fetch your own drink. Who do you think I am?” he replied. “Work for it,” he scoffed. “I've never heard such shit.”
He did what he often did when faced with women who were high and mighty. He moved away and started to talk to other people. It worked every time. Soon he felt Amy staring at him. He knew exactly what she was thinking. She was pissed that he'd dared to leave her side. He'd seen her type before. She was one of those beautiful women men flocked to with their tongues hanging out like thirsty dogs. She'd been conditioned, by men's own ridiculous behavior, into thinking she could get whatever she wanted by simply fluttering her eyelids. Well, not with him.
He smiled to himself when she reappeared by his side a few minutes later. “Oh, it's you. Miss me, did you?” he said.
“You're such a cocky asshole.”
“So why don't you go and talk to your friends then?” he said nonchalantly.
“Dance with me again,” she said.
Outside in the street, Alberti kept glancing at his watch. Christian had told him he'd bring her to him around 3 p.m. It was 5 p.m. and there was no sign of him. There were a number of people sitting outside the cafe on the other side of the road, and Alberti was more than tempted to join them.
“Fuck it,” he said. He got out of the car, walked across the road, and ordered a double vodka.
“Are you ignoring me?” Madison said as she and her new husband danced by.
“No, I'm just...”
Madison winked at Amy as if to say, I know exactly what you're doing.
Amy didn't want to talk to anyone. She didn't want to stand around, chatting idly, when she could be in the arms of this handsome man, whose scent was so wonderful. He was the kind of man she'd found impossible to find so far in her life. He was a man who told her what to do, and that made her feel calm.
They danced until Amy's feet hurt, and then they sat at the bar and flirted some more. It had been dark for a couple of hours, and some of the guests were beginning to leave. As they spoke, Christian noticed Amy touching his leg from time to time. That was his signal.
“Come on,” he said, taking her hand.
“To where?”
“To my place. I want you,” he whispered.
She stood up and followed him. “I've got a driver somewhere,” he said when they reached the street. “There's the car. Where the fuck is he?”
Alberti saw them from his place in front of the café and stood up. Christian heard the crash of someone knocking glasses over and looked toward the café. “Shit,” he said when he saw Alberti sprawled on the ground. He walked over to him, picked him up, and punched him. Alberti flew across the road and landed in front of their car. Christian picked him up and once again hit him. “You were supposed to wait for me, not get drunk in some café,” he exclaimed. Alberti was too far gone to answer.
“Stop it, Christian. Everyone's looking,” Amy said.
“Fuck. Get in the car,” he said to Amy.
Christian got the keys from Alberti's pocket and left him lying in the gutter. After three-quarters of an hour, they reached the narrow road that led from the freeway to Oaktree Lodge.
“This is a bit remote, isn't it?” Amy said.
“I don't like people too much. I prefer to live out here,” he replied.
Amy wondered if anybody ever came down this road except him. It wasn't just narrow, but also bumpy, and she was beginning to feel a little car sick. She was relieved when they stopped outside what appeared, in the dark, to be a log cabin.
*****
As soon as they were inside, Christian reached for her. He pulled her to him and kissed her. She leaned against the wall just inside the door and felt him push against her. The thin material of her dress did nothing to hide how hard he was. She was flattered that such a handsome man wanted her so badly.
“You're keen, aren't you?” she said.
“I've been looking at you all night. I'm horny as hell now.”
“But I couldn't leave any earlier,” she said.
“Sure. I'm just telling you why I'm so keen to fuck you.”
“I can feel how much you want it,” she said. Her hand slipped down and caressed his length as it strained against the inside of his pants. He pulled her from the wall and took her to the bedroom. When he turned on the light, she blinked. The room was big enough for a double bed and a wardrobe, and it had a window that she assumed looked onto the forest behind the cabin.
“I love your ass. It's so perfect,” he said as his hands ran over her buttocks. They kissed again, standing next to the bed.
When she felt his hand reach behind her and lower the zipper on the back of her dress, she put her head into the nape of his neck and inhaled his scent. At the beginning of the afternoon he'd smelled of aftershave, but now he smelled of a wonderful blend. When her zipper was open, his manly hands caressed the soft skin on her back. As he stroked her, he turned every nerve into a small fire. The mix of his hands caressing her and his hard shaft pushing between her legs set her on fire, and she reached up and put her tongue into his mouth. When she tasted him, she felt a wet wave flow through her, preparing her for what he was going to do to her.
As he kissed her, he put his hands on her shoulders and pushed the top half of her dress down. Her naked breasts sprang free, her nipples stiffening against the material of his shirt. She wanted to feel and smell his skin now. As he watched her breasts move, she unfastened his tie and popped opened the buttons on his shirt. She thrust her hands inside and felt him. His body was hard, and his skin felt so smooth. She put her nose to his chest and inhaled him. It sent another wet wave crashing to her underbelly.
When she pushed his shirt off, he picked her up and put her down on the bed. He stood at her feet and pulled her dress off. The sight of her lithe body, naked except for a white thong and her shoes, made him harder still. She reached down to take her shoes off.
“No. Leave those on. I like it,” he said. It was one of his things. He loved fucking women in black heels.
She put her feet on his chest as he stood in front of her. His hands slid over her ankles and momentarily massaged her calves before working their way up to her outer thighs
. When he turned his palms inward and stroked the softness of her inner thighs, he felt a gush of warmth come from her womanhood.
“Don't stop. That's so wonderful,” she said. Slowly his hands massaged her, working their way ever closer to their goal. When his fingers danced around the folds to the side of her thong, she threw her hips toward him, inviting him to remove the material. He ripped it from her and put his hands back on her. His fingers ran small circles over her delicate folds, caressing softly, intermittently dipping into her. Her breathing became labored, and she clutched at the bedclothes as he slowly but surely brought her to an orgasm. When he stopped massaging her and bent down and placed his mouth on her, she exploded, grinding herself against his face. He lifted her lower half from the bed, flung her legs over his shoulders, and took more of what he wanted until she pleaded with him to stop. He let her fall to the bed and took off his pants. He wasn't wearing shorts. She gave an involuntary lick of the lips when she saw his penis. She looked at his body. It was long, no fat, just hard muscle. His thighs looked strong, and they were covered in dark hair.
He pulled her to him and took his penis in his hand. When he rubbed the tip over her clitoris, she moaned and tried to get him to push into her. He liked teasing her and continued to rub her. She was on the point of another orgasm when he shoved himself into her.
She clung to him, her hands gripping his biceps as he rode her with hard thrusts. It was a warm evening, and soon his body was bathed in sweat.
“I love your body. It's so firm,” she cried as his thrusts took her higher once again. “Come with me,” she pleaded.
“Close,” he gasped. She bucked against him, encouraging him. When he cried out, she came with him, both of them clawing at each other.
*****
“What the hell?” Amy cried as the bed sheet flew from her. Christian woke up with a start and looked at Fabio, who was standing at the end of the bed. Amy put her arm over her breasts and a hand over her pubic hair.
“Who the hell is this?” she asked Christian.
“It's Fabio,” he replied.
“He's just pulled the bed sheets from us. I'm naked. Do something.”
