by S. W. Frank
Selange was his fetish, her skin his stimulant, her pussy his Dom and his heart her submissive. The arduous kisses which seared his neck transferred to his lips. Alfonzo’s mouth was wider, his tongue longer, his possession unrelenting and this is the power of a man when his love is so strong he needs nothing but the object of his desire to turn it on.
Inside of his babe, touching loving skin, experiencing ecstasy when the world outside was dark is what gave him light. He needed tenderness more than ever before to balance the harshness of his violent life. His mouth became suction, pulling her soft perfumed skin, going outward to her cheek to lick her face and her neck, as his body bent her back to the bed and her hair spread around her gorgeous face. Strong hands separated the tight fitting garment which partially bound her breasts and as he separated the material from her skin it broke. A man enraptured by one woman’s flesh, whether loving or trusting when taken to a euphoric place beyond the mind can inadvertently cause harm.
Alfonzo was aware of his intense obsession with his wife. The feel of her pussy gripping his pulsing staff, keeping it warm with sticky honey as he thrust in and out with his mouth attached to her breast was an all-consuming fire. Any instruments to bind, whip or chain could easily unleash a closeted demon fueled by rage, therefore, he took no chances with his love because Selange took him outside of his head and his passion could turn crimson.
He loved her intensely, until the blackness dissolved and when he peaked, the release which erupted from his body to his honey was a tsunami of cum.
During the drowsy hours of night, they lay cuddled and he caught a sudden chill. His eyes flew open to see her asleep with a smile. Her breathing was undetectable, he looked to her breasts to ensure their rise and fall. Lou’s final words haunted him. His demons were the nightmares of a man with a conscience. There were so many deaths attributed to his name and the count increased each enemy, each friend. The rapid ice freezing him over was worse than anything he’d ever felt. He said a silent prayer in the dark. "Forgive me father for every sin. What must I do, must I bleed; is love the purgatory, am I destined to cry tears of red on a battlefield and call it living?"
Selange snuggled closer; perhaps, she too had a premonition. Through a hazel colored gaze, she whispered. “Honey are you okay?”
“Yeah, I think you might’ve elbowed me or something.” He lied.
She gave a weary smile and returned to comfort’s slumber. He put an arm around her waist, tucked his chin to her hair and shared her pillow to be closer. He kissed the top of her tousled ebony locks. Selange was very innocent, whether she knew it or not. Despite the tragedies she’d endured, she didn’t possess a decadent or perverse soul. Clutched to his body was love, woman, mother and an undeserving man’s life’s source.
He wanted the doom to pass; sleep was no longer peace. When the sandman finally came, it was dawn.
CHAPTER TEN
Giuseppe stood in his mother’s kitchen, which was not an unusual place for him to be. He made no qualms about loving her cooking. Shanda was in the home, too, outdoors on the patio with Carlo talking to a very pregnant Ari. Giuseppe fingered one of the rolls set out on the counter, squeezed to test its freshness before placing the pastry in his mouth. He took another and received no reprimand from his mother as she and the cook busied themselves.
He would have eaten every delicacy had she not sauntered over after placing the lasagna in the oven to where he leaned with his elbows on the counter.
Sophie rubbed his shoulder as she went to the opposite of the marble island to face her son. “You cannot use children as weapons Giuseppe. I do not like what you have done.”
Giuseppe’s mouth tugged low. Shanda had spoken to his mother seeking an ally. He did not care. The woman deserved harsh treatment after making him worry. She should be grateful he had not carried out the threat and spoke to her about family instead. She agreed to his terms for the bodyguards, which is the only importance. Gossip among women was for the bored with nothing substantive in their lives. This morning he dropped Shanda to his mother’s home on his way to work where he spent hours assuaging sour men’s fears about Timpico’s spiral out of control. The man had not spoken to the press since receiving the warning about mafia doings, yet Giuseppe’s gut told him, such a man would not remain silent long when emboldened.
Hungry and angry at the prima donna who hijacked his life, he glanced toward the patio door as the object of his derision entered carrying their son. She was pretty, extremely sexy in her short dress and heels. She smiled at the baby as she held his head gently to the cloth on her shoulder and addressed Giuseppe. “He’s tired. I’d like to take him home.”
“You are not staying for dinner?” Sophie asked.
“No thank you Mrs. Dichenzo, I’m tired and I think I need a nap, too.”
Giuseppe pushed from the counter, worry creasing his brow. He’d forgotten what the doctor advised. He wondered if she’d taken her vitamins as instructed. “Sí, I will take you home donna.”
Sophie spoke rapidly to the cook, instructing her to put plenty of food in containers for his son and Shanda. She could not let them leave empty-handed. When this was done and she exchanged farewells with her son, she went to the patio to sit with Nico’s woman.
“It’s beautiful here. I can sit for hours looking at your garden,” Ari said to her hostess.
Sophie nodded. “Yes, I love to see the flowers bloom as I eat. My husband and I spent many mornings here together.”
Ari noticed the wistful way in which Sophie spoke. To cheer her spirit she smiled. “Nico’s told me you are his surrogate mother. He says my cooking lack’s Sophie’s magic.”
“He said such a thing to his wife, eh, my Nico lacks tact?”
Ari laughed as did Sophie. Ari rubbed her belly as life kicked and turned to get her attention. Her due date was less than three weeks away and she couldn’t wait for the baby to come. “Yes, he lacks tact, but I love him.”
Sophie’s laughter echoed over the manicured garden. “He knows how to cook, the scoundrel.”
“I know.” Ari winked. “That is why I always have culinary mishaps whenever he’s around.”
The women laughed in unison. Sophie liked the attorney; apparently she had the wisdom to deal with the wayward Nico. Such a woman was needed in his life, too bad he had not brought her to visit many years ago. Sophie’s eyes sparkled with happiness. Earlier, she messaged Selange. An important meeting to discuss the state of the family was long overdue. Sophie’s grandson’s birthright required his mother to enter the circle, yet this Shanda had little interest in learning their family’s ways. She did not agree with her son’s tactics with Shanda, no woman is receptive to ultimatums and bullying which is exactly what Giuseppe always did. Therefore, to ensure no further discourse in the house of the Giacanti’s, Selange must reign over the women. She was ready, besides Sophie believed Selange was best suited with her even temperament. In age, impatience at young foolishness had begun to sprout gray hairs. A color rinse is what she needed due to this Shanda and Giuseppe business. Remaining objective was hard to do each time she held her grandson and a selfish Nonna wanted the couple to work cohesively for the sweet child’s sake. The turmoil in that house was because two stubborn people refused to mature and take their responsibility seriously.
Sophie’s rose colored lips formed a thin line. The children required mothers, nurturers and protectors who put their well-being above all else. The lawyer lady of Nico seemed wise; an advisor is what a teacher needed. Yes, she believed Selange with Ari’s assistance could effectively lead. The time had come for new blood to rule the women and the unlikeliest of duos were the most qualified.
Sophie saw from Nico’s perspective. As a surrogate mother to the man, she understood his love for each woman. They possessed differen
t strengths. But, his choice in Ari felt so right.
‘Yes…yes…Nico…a romantic heart existing in abstract form requires a realist. Selange is a dreamer who lit the flames of the artist in you, but you are no longer the boy and only a non-dreamer can keep you grounded to your task as an adult,’ is what Sophie was thinking, until Ari pat her hand and said in Italian, “Do you mind if I cut a piece of your delicious pie. I don’t mean to sound greedy or anything but I’m really hungry.”
Sophie’s face glowed with joy. “Sit, ah, I get the pie. What a treat it is to have you as my guest.” She rose from her seat and bent over to kiss Ari’s cheeks. Her steps were almost girlish skips as she hurried inside to fetch the lovely woman’s dessert before the main course.
‘Oh, yes…Nico…a woman who eats…bellissimo!’
~
Giuseppe leaned against the door of the car, speaking gruffly to his Capo. A shooting had occurred in the coastal town of Trapani. The polizei suspected the victim was a young student from the university protesting the mafia influence by scribbling graffiti outside the home of an associate. The shooter had not been apprehended, and thus Timpico re-emerged once more to denounce organized crime, stirring the timbers Giuseppe had sought to stomp out.
Giuseppe’s Capo had informed him, the family of the victim were rich friends of Timpico, thus it all made sense. Giuseppe peered at Shanda and the child as the evening settled over the province. The baby had not stirred, in fact if not for the occasional puckering of the tiny lips he may have thought the child did not breathe. His donna fought slumbers demand. Her eyelids were heavy as she placed her head near the infant seat which separated mother and father.
Giuseppe ordered his Capo to find the shooter of the student. “Lean hard on someone’s neck!” He fumed. With a child and a woman to care for he could not afford to have these problems attach to the Giacanti’s. He would wait to witness if Timpico’s posturing ended. Peace among those who sought his leadership was paramount, yet actions of rogue members of La Famiglia in this volatile atmosphere of public unrest only further heightened the anti-mafia sentiment.
The vehicle was let through the gate and Giuseppe waited for his bodyguards to open the doors. “We are home bella,” he said to Shanda.
She nodded, grateful to arrive to the house. Giuseppe retrieved the infant, gesturing to the woman to go inside and he followed with Carlo in one hand and the bag of food in the other. He put the food in the kitchen and carried his son upstairs, laying him carefully in the crib before removing the little outer clothes and placing the pride of his life gingerly on his side. Out of the corner of his eye, he witnessed Carlo’s mother undress and climb in bed.
His brows furrowed in concern. He did not like to see the feisty woman in this condition. In a display of civility he fetched her medication and water and returned to the room, sat at the edge of her bed and shook her awake.
“Hmm, what is it?”
“Your vitamins and water. Sit up and drink.”
Surprisingly, Shanda did not argue. He shook two pills in her hand and when she ingested them whole he put the glass to her lips. Over the rim she squinted at him while sipping. “Um, thank you,” she said after she had drunk enough.
He put his hand on her forehead. “Are you ill?”
“No Giuseppe just tired. I didn’t get much sleep, remember?”
“It is not my fault you did not sleep.”
“I didn’t say it was your fault,” she whispered. “Please keep your voice down before you wake the baby.”
Giuseppe frowned. He had not slept at all because of her roaming, come to think of it, his irritability throughout the day may have stemmed from weariness.
He placed the half empty glass of water on the nouveau bureau with the vitamins and removed his shoes. Shanda had turned on her side to sleep and when he lay beside her fully clothed, she said nothing. When his arm went about her in protection, no profanity spilled from her lips. When he spooned her, closing his eyes after the tiresome day, still nothing but nature’s breaths. The silence was a sleep inducer. The mouth accustomed to kisses and giving orders went slack. In the stillness a mob lord’s guilty conscience spoke. “Rest, Giuseppe. Refrain from warring with the woman you vowed to protect.”
They were new parents, unskilled, unprepared and utterly oblivious their mood swings affected the child. Unnecessary conflict had zapped their reserves. They could not continue in this state of volatility for the sake of their son. Giuseppe understood his transgressions. He thought of his father’s serenity in the home with his mother. It is what he grew up knowing, strength and love. In an exhalation, he set aside his pride for domestic peace for the benefit of Carlo. He would treat Shanda kindly, take care of her as promised, it is what his father would have done. Once he adapted this approach, his eyes closed without hesitancy. This was the earliest Giuseppe retired since adulthood. But, it was nice to hold his donna affectionately and just sleep.
Apparently, an infant took pity on his childish parents and stifled its wants. His lips puckered, yet no sound came out. This intermission was required for a weary couple to rest which had not occurred since the day he was born.
Carlo’s innocent face twitched. The tiny mouth yawned. It was the sign of life’s renewal through youth. Beyond the trials of men and women were the littlest blessings, angelic faces of children bringing wisdom to its elders, saying peace…for my sake…hold love’s chalice sacred…be one another’s comfort and shield for the life you have created in the upcoming storms.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Nico enjoyed the overnight visit with Ari’s folks. Yeah, she was lucky to have a normal childhood, he certainly hadn’t. But, it was time to get back to reality. He was on the road again after the relaxing day. He’d assisted Ari’s dad with installation of a new door. The task got him a handshake from Ari’s father, a nice dinner and then he was on his way.
The night had come quickly. Time sort of ran ahead of him, probably due to the fact he was having such a good time. He’d sent a message to Ari, encrypted, nothing genius, a simple e-mail via Sophie which read: B’ Day. Anyone hacking might believe it was an innocuous Happy Birthday wish when in fact to the receiver it was a code for BEEN DELAYED.
He never used the same contact sources or any mafia lingo, such as ‘this thing of ours’ which is a literal translation of the Italian words La Costra Nostra. The Giacanti’s were not of that lot; however in the course of business and time the lines had become blurred. Men like Nico were the protectors of a family, royalty by their own right; rejected outcasts who became inadvertently the rulers of lawless men deemed an organization of crime.
Nico was a lethal ambassador for the Giacanti Famiglia. His actions were always in their interest. In the field avoiding detection from law enforcement required he limit correspondence with loved ones. Except checking on his pregnant ex-wife and to give an update on his ETA became a high priority.
Nico stopped at a 7-Eleven for peanuts and coffee. He wanted a gourmet tea, but many of these national chains only carried standard brands. After he paid for the stuff, he sat in the parking lot, munching peanuts and checking his laptop. The satellite and long distance tracking devices on his sons and wild sisters was uneventful. So far, the rebellious foursome remained stationary. The bright blue dots were clustered with Ari’s red one. Madeline and Evangeline were pink dots right at the exact location of their estate. Most likely the girls were in bed preparing to wake or in their case sleep late since it was an early Sunday morning in Sicily.
He checked his inboxes. Two messages, both important. One came from a tracker, an IT guy in India with a coordinate, another recommending a book on politics. He memorized the information and then cleaned out the hard drive. He checked his watch, took a gulp of coffee, tossed some nuts in his mouth and analyzed the information while st
aring at the Long Island Expressway.
Hell, he had to go to Italy and check it out. He finished the nuts, and hesitated when he glanced at the GPS screen tracking Sergio’s car and growled. “Goddamn that fucking kid. Christ Vincenzo you’re playing a cruel joke on me…aren’t you. You always did have a warped sense of humor, you hear me fratello?”
He started the engine and tore out of the parking lot.
~
Nina finished her act and headed to the dressing room to change when Tony stopped her. Caminello requested the Diamond Room and Nina as his guest. She nodded, Caminello was a great tipper. The kind who doesn’t chuck one’s at the dancers and thinks that’ll get her attention. Oh no, he came with one hundred dollar bills, stuck them on the waist of G-Strings with the certainty he’d have a night of splendor like a president.
“Give me five minutes and then send him in.”
Tony walked back to Caminello’s VIP table, leaned over and said to the honored guest, “She’s honored.”
The stout man gave a knowing smile. “Thanks Tony,” he said in a gravelly voice of someone who smoked too much and shouted orders. He reached in his pocket for his money clip, peeled off several bills and placed it Tony’s hand. “Have a bottle of the best inside and you keep the rest.”
Tony closed his hand around the cash without looking at the amount. Caminello wasn’t cheap like Chip. There was no reason to count the bills, in fact he probably overpaid by a thousand. “No problem.”
Tony sauntered to the bar, spoke to one of the scantily dressed women tending bar and made the preparations. He craned his neck at the sound of a male voice that he thought he’d sent on his way. Sergio was trying to put the moves on one of the dancers who passed and Tony’s feet started in Sergio’s direction. When he got to Sergio his temper was short. “I thought I told you to leave. Do you want me to have you thrown out on your ass?”
