by Frank, S. W.
Alfonzo’s shoulders flexed and he rose, licking her from valley to navel then scowled when he realized he had yet to undress.
Her mouth twisted in a half smile as he rapidly undressed, hopping out of his pants and she giggled. “Don’t trip.”
“Nah, that’s you babe. I have no problem with balance.”
Selange turned around, to face the door and over her shoulder said, “You’re making fun of me, I guess you want me to leave.” She teased and reached for the door handle and poking out her ass to give him a glorious view.
The response he gave was exactly what she intended. He gripped her waist and flattened her to the door and she squealed. Her arms were spread-eagled and the pounding which resounded wasn’t her seeking to get out, heck no, it was Alfonzo getting in. Selange was crushed against the smooth wood, sliding up and down from the moisture of her body generated by his heat. His hands were on her throat, in her hair and rubbing her down with each primal thrusting. She smiled, imagining the metal hinges melting and the door giving way to send them crashing to the floor. Ah, she missed his body and what he showed her was he missed hers, too.
Pinned between the hard and the firm, one an inanimate object, the other the flesh of a man, made her feel soft as cotton. The dual pleasures and their secret romp was beyond stimulating, it was a pleasurable sin.
Alfonzo stroked the length of Selange’s shapely torso and hips. He kissed her damp shoulders, glorifying in her womanhood, exulting in the way she rolled and clamped him, never wanting to release her, swearing to her he’d never touch another woman as he thrust harder and deeper unconcerned with the racket they made or Lou out in the hall blushing at their loud mating.
Alfonzo moved the damp strands of hair from her neck with his fingers. He whispered endearments in Spanish and she splintered. Her head leaned back and he lift her higher and burned her through.
What should have been a quickie elapsed into thirty minutes of Selange riding him atop his desk, another twenty minutes of Selange bent over his chair and time halted altogether as she knelt and worshipped him with her soft moist lips until her cell began to ring.
Shanda.
They’d forgotten all about the girl.
****
Shanda crossed her arms, not buying Selange’s excuse. The girl had gone M.I.A to who-knows-where and by the looks of her disheveled appearance and that damn smirk on her face, wherever it was had a good big dick!
It wasn’t cool. A four hour tops girl time in the salon became six. Shanda had to sit waiting. Her hair was done and now she had to sit and wait for Selange. See, this is the type of crap she didn’t like. If the girl wanted to meet up with somebody to hook-up, all she had to do was say so. Not have her believe they were doing something together when in fact she had ulterior motives. What’s up with Selange, she wondered?
Only somebody who has everything squanders it. Seriously, Selange was tripping. See, when you’re effortlessly pretty, men willing to die for your ass and loaded, you start doing stupid shit, like cheating on a stud of a husband with his friend. That’s some cold hard gangster-ho shit. Even, she wouldn’t have done that.
She hated to go hard on her friend but this chick was losing her mind. It’s like why didn’t you do all this whoring around before you got married?
Heck, that’s what she was doing, getting it all out of her system so when big daddy comes along she’d pour all her loving on his fat dick.
Shanda frowned as Selange was being led to the row of dryers. Look, see, chick just now going under the dryer, another forty-five minutes, Shanda complained then gave up altogether. To hell with it, since everybody’s getting some, the first good-looking dude she sees, she’s going hard, really hard.
Selange smiled as Shanda flipped through the outdated hair-style magazines, thinking of Alfonzo and feeling such warmth, she swore she came right there.
****
Alfonzo couldn’t sleep. It was his gut, again. Yep, it started talking but wasn’t telling him where to look or how to ward off what’s coming. He rolled on his side and gripped the pillow. Selange was on his mind. Ah, it was torturous, literally a test of his willpower to lie in bed without the feel of her body against his. She’s right, he suggested the arrangement. Estúpido, certainly had. He said he didn’t want to give the government any ammunition. His next court appearance was in six months. He blinked, Six months. “Nah…nope…can’t do this shit for six months!”
He picked up his head then let it fall again into the super fluffy padding. He tried to think about something else. Tomorrow was Allie’s birthday. His nina was turning four, believe it? Damn, he still remembers when she was a little runt of a baby, sleeping the days away without a fuss. He sighed, the one Angelina, geez, she cried for nothing. He chuckled, like her mom. Damn, crybabies –both of them.
He closed his eyes and for a moment he thought it, a strange and wishful dream. Those blue eyes had yet to dim and he wondered…what if? He chased it away, blowing at it, “Nah, how is it possible?”
Then, the thought reappeared in his mind and he sat upright and snatched his laptop from the nightstand and did some research. He sat there reading information on genetics and twins. What he learned gave him an awful ache, because for a dude with a master’s degree he didn’t know squat. There’s no twin gene. Twins can be a result of hyper ovulation and twins do not skip a generation or because you are a twin, doesn’t guarantee your children will be twins. These are only a few of the facts he learned in his Google research.
Alfonzo frowned, hot damn!
Why hadn’t he considered getting a paternity test?
Why?
Because he was angry, that’s why.
There was a strong possibility those babies were NOT Nico’s.
He picked up the remote and flicked on the television. CNN, was his favorite news program. They gave an international news report. He lay there listening to weather, politics and a brief mention about the murder of federal agents guarding a witness. One of the agents killed was Christopher Hernandez. Alfonzo frowned, Franky. He guessed it couldn’t be helped. The man was on the wrong assignment, at the wrong damn time.
Three hours later, he finally slept, but it was a fitful sleep and in his dreams he sought the truth.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Giuseppe stood over Alfonzo staring down at his cousin laughing. He had his leg outstretched, clutching the pillow, snoring and mumbling incoherently like a deranged man.
Giuseppe slapped the soles of his feet, “Wake-up, cugino!”
Alfonzo bolt upright, his eyes focused, noticed Giuseppe and he groaned, “What time is it?”
“Time to wake-up!”
Alfonzo rubbed his eyes, the broad shoulders, one side covered with tattoos on display. “Ah, you’re messing with a sleep deprived man.”
“We go for coffee, and you find energy. Come on.”
Alfonzo climbed out of bed, stretched then dropped and did fifty push-ups. By the forty-sixth one, he had the blood pumping and Giuseppe smiling at his back.
“Do fifty more then you impress me.”
“Not trying to impress your dumb ass,” Alfonzo said sideways as he put a hand behind his back and did a set of one arm push-ups.
Giuseppe sat on the bed and lay back, “Let me know when you finish prancing.”
After a series of crunches, Alfonzo leapt to his feet and went to shower. Sleep gone.
Giuseppe had fallen asleep and Alfonzo laughed, “Who’s sleeping now, huh? Get the fuck-up!”
“Not sleeping.”
“Hell you weren’t,” was the retort from Alfonzo as he dressed. “How’s things Geo?”
“Buono. And, how are things with the cheater wife?”
“Bueno, we’re good.”
Giuseppe sat up, his large frame seemingly expanding at this, “Good, how can things be good?”
“They are. We’ve come to an understanding.”
A broad smile creased the masculine face, “You fucked her, no?”<
br />
Alfonzo didn’t answer.
“You like pain, eh cugino?”
Alfonzo slipped the white-short sleeve V-neck shirt over his head. His toned arms were visible. “It depends on the type of pain.”
“You cugino are hopeless when it comes to her.”
“Sure am.”
“Eh, then fuck her brains out and be happy. Don’t let Nico near her, or you two may find yourselves in a who fucks Selange better contest.”
“Alright, Geo, shut the fuck-up with the wisecracks and fess up with what’s going on in your shitty part of the world?”
“Eh, do not degrade our motherland, she is good to me. She doesn’t screw behind my back.”
“She’s not flesh and blood Geo, of course you know that right?”
“She is to me.”
“You’re touched.”
“Funny, this is what everyone says about you.”
“Then I guess we’ve got the Giacanti crazy gene.”
“Um.” Giuseppe took the opening, “Nico is Alberti’s son, did you know this?”
“What?”
“It’s a long sad story of love and loss, but in the end we are related by blood to the bastard.”
This information fostered the urgency for a DNA test of the twins. Nico was his first cousin and this caused him pain. His mind automatically remembered Vincent and wished he had known this. It explained the brotherhood he experienced with the man and pain changed to sadness. “Vin was like my brother, you know?”
“Yes, cugino. I hurt because he was the better of the two. Vincent would have never betrayed you like his shit of a brother has. I grieve over his loss and now I must do it again over the passing of a friend.”
Alfonzo zipped up his pants then sat on the edge of the bed to don socks. The tone in Giuseppe’s voice changed to false sincerity when he spoke of the friend. Alfonzo cast a questioning glance in his direction, “You expedited the inevitable, huh?”
“I had no option.”
“What did this friend do?”
“Talk to the DSS about our family business.”
Alfonzo’s ears twitched, “Did you dig the grave deep?”
Giuseppe smirked. Ah, he loved his cousin. “Yes, cugino. He is mixed with the excrement of the earth as fertilizer.”
Alfonzo slipped his feet in the soft black leather shoes. “Fucking-A!”
“We understand the way, you and I –except she is your weak spot and you must fuck her to submission.”
“Geo, every man has a weak spot even you, and what’s this shit you got in your head about women, kinda’ sadomasochistic, don’t you think?”
Giuseppe puffed out his broad chest, “No, weak spot in me. Yes, my woman must understand I am boss.” He grabbed his crotch, “This is my paddle I beat her with until she does everything I say.”
“Ego is your weakness, primo. Can’t wait ‘til a boss chica squashes it, and then we’ll see who’ll do the submitting. Guarantee, you primo, you’ll eat pussy anytime she cocks open her legs. That’s how hungry you’ll be.”
The smile became a sneer, “Not funny, cugino.”
Alfonzo slapped the back of his cousin’s head playfully, “Ah, what part offends the great Geo, eating pussy or submitting?”
****
The entire Diaz clan converged upon the sprawling island estate. A colorful giant slide, a clown, a miniature pony and other games filled the lawn on the opposite of the house, far away from the pool. There were sensors on the pool. However, with the many children on the property, Alfonzo insisted it was covered and posted a guard to monitor the area at all times. He wanted no tragic accidents on his daughter’s special day. He wanted everything perfect for his angel.
Small children squealed happily, running around to nowhere, enjoying the wide open space. He stood by Selange’s side as pictures were taken with the birthday girl and her pony shaped cake. Yes, she loves ponies. Before that it was cuddly bears and before that purple butterflies, oh yeah with sparkly wings. Nana Maria beamed proudly as did tia Carmen as the little girl blew out her candles then jumped from her frilly chair at the huge pony table, Alfonzo ordered and clapped pleased with herself. “Happy Birthday…me!”
“Feliz Cumpleanos…Aldonza!” Everyone applauded and the family party got under way.
Alfonzo and the men sometime during the face painting, pony rides and stuff, gravitated inside the house to the beer and large screen to watch sports. Alfonzo was laughing at a joke Giuseppe made about the shape of Domingo’s head when Shanda strolled in, strutting harder than usual. He grinned when Giuseppe took notice and followed with his eyes the hot chocolate approach.
“Alfonzo, Selange asked if you can get the large serving bowl down from the top cabinet.” She said, stopping right in front of the men to give them a full view of her betty-boops.
Alfonzo jumped to his feet. Shanda was shameless. He supposed she had her tentacles set on Giuseppe and planned to go hard with the flirtations. Poor Geo.
He heard Giuseppe speaking in his broken English to her, “Shanda right?”
“That’s my name.”
Giuseppe was on his feet, towering like a massive building over the woman. “I’m Giuseppe.”
“That’s nice.”
Alfonzo had the bowl in his hand and leaned against the kitchen counter watching the play-by-play with amusement. Domingo decided to join his kids outdoors; he didn’t want to witness Giuseppe’s annihilation by the barracuda.
“You like big men?”
“It depends, big in the sack or big pockets?”
“Both.”
“I’d have to see the merchandise first.”
Giuseppe unzipped his trousers, took Shanda’s hand and placed it in his pants, holding it there until her fingers touched his bulging flesh and closed around the impressive organ. Alfonzo ducked his head in disbelief. He would’ve warned Giuseppe about Shanda but thinking about it, maybe those two were a good match.
He decided to take the bowl out to his wife; he didn’t want Shanda’s nasty hands on it. He spotted Selange immediately. She wore her hair in a ponytail. It was full and untamed running down her back, touching her skin. He could see the line of her spine in the long open-back dress. She was smiling and moving among the children and guests. She was the ultimate hostess. She held one side of her dress as she walked across the grass toward his mother who sat under the shade, the sleeping babies beside her in dual rockers. She held a drink out to the woman and Alfonzo saw his mother smile. She always smiled with Selange. She’d liked Selange from the jump. He wondered if she knew this would be the woman to bring him such joy and misery. He gazed upon the assembly. They were all smiling and happy. His family was the light in the darkness, seeing them this way, reconfirmed how important they were in his life. The bad things didn’t make him a bad man, because bad men have no conscience and his were torturous ranting’s, at times. Until, Selange’s hand or kiss silenced it. She loved him; he realized he loved her more during this trial.
His eyes absorbed Domingo and Teresa, cozy near a tree, hugging and kissing. Jessica, ah, crazy chica and Emilio laughing at something his aunt Carmen said as she fussed over her grandchild. Sal ran around with his bigger cousins, rolling on the grass and acting a fool, like boys do. The young girls chased the boys, their hair falling loose from ribbons flowing with the wind as they ran.
Allie was being pranced on a rented pony with Anita’s lips moving, undoubtedly in warning to Aldonza about something or other. The woman complained far too much, yet he loved her like family.
Then Selange turned and saw him there alone outside the patio doors. Her smile dazzled him. She walked with a regal grace, her eyes flashed green-brown at a point where the sun caught them as she neared. He didn’t know why, but his heart saddened at the time they lost hurting each other. Without care she took the bowl out of his hand, put her arms around his neck and kissed his mouth. Just like that, she acknowledged him in front of everyone, ending the charade. “I refuse to l
ie or hide how much I love you. I’m outing us, hun, you can spank me later for it,” she whispered. “I’m not ashamed.”
He leaned his forehead on hers; his mind on the babies which might possibly be his flesh and blood. He thought of the future, his legal battle looming ahead and on her. He didn’t want to lie or hide anymore either. No more secret trysts. He needed her at night, during the day and when his heart grew troubled. She was the only one who calmed it. Like, now, it slowed and listened to truth. Selange always represented home.
****
Darren dribbled the ball then shot it in the air and it spun right into the basket. His friend cheered him on as he made yet another shot far back from the court with ease. Teenage boys were competitive, they also didn’t know when to quit. The older kid, who missed all of his shots, slapped the ball out of Darren’s hand and ran down to the end of the court with it. Darren took up chase and crouched, eyeing the ball, tugging on the edge of his shorts as he pivoted from side-to-side waiting for an opening. He saw it, slapped the ball away and took off dribbling with the older, but shorter kid at his back. He did a Jordan and the game was over.
Sweat poured down the smooth boyish face and he grinned as his friend Tim collected the cash. “Come on, pay-up. Your boy lost.” Tim said to the losing side. A group of six neighborhood kids who liked talking smack about their skills, then when it was time to prove they’re athleticism in the game, they’d all fallen short. Darren whipped their asses, royally. Ten points a game, ten bucks a point and he beat all eight of the youth and gave them a windfall of eight hundred dollars.
They whined and cursed like losers, but in the end they paid. Their parents had money. It’s not like Darren needed money, he and Tim just liked taking it from braggarts.
