by S. W. Frank
Fear reigned supreme, “Alfonzo.”
He smiled reassuringly in response to her trepidation then kissed her abdomen, “I want you beautiful.”
All doubts dissipated and she clutched his waist. His passion escalated as her hands traveled up his chest, then neck before she traced his mouth with her finger. He sucked it, smiling devilishly and she relaxed.
No regrets…no what-ifs…love him…love him!
He began to kiss her hungrily, smiling at how incredibly scrumptious her lips tasted. She smelled nice too, like fresh flowers on the first day of spring. Her hair was soft and so was her skin, umm, he thought as she began to smile. He crawled over her and she lightly rubbed his spine. She was trying to avoid his injured side and he appreciated the consideration but her hands could go anywhere they liked and he wouldn’t complain. “I’ve been wanting to do this for a long time,” he said through the kisses then stared lovingly down at her. The exotic eyes were trusting and vulnerable. He recognized the uncertain, and frightened eyes of someone unfamiliar with lovemaking. Virgin eyes. Ones he hadn’t seen since he was a kid and popped his first cherry. How old was she again? Twenty-one or two? Damn, he’d rather not be the first because firsts never last. He tensed at this thought. Then her body arched naturally toward him, pressing against his erection, making him throb. She whispered, “Make love to me,” as her fingers raked through his hair and he acquiesced. Anyway, how could he refuse? He was already too far gone. She had upped the ante by being a virgin and now he had to make her first time memorable. Yeah, whenever she thought of it, she’d smile and touch herself down there.
He brought her legs up around his waist as he positioned himself and slid slowly but firmly between her thighs. There was a slight stiffening and he leaned forward, licked and sucked her breasts, waiting for her to relax before he surged further, telling himself, ‘Take it easy…go slow…wait for her.’
Her body began to adjust to the penile intrusion. He could feel the lubricants and her muscles expanding. He went further, pushing harder, prying her wider to fit him, making her gasp as he filled her. He tried to stay in check as the soft moist folds of her flesh were like bookends on his penis. She was extremely tight and he knew it was nerves, she was clamping down too hard each time he tried to stroke her. He grit his teeth, putting aside his urge to pump like a goddamn oil drill and concentrated on Selange. Her eyes were closed and lips parted as she breathed in this new sensation. Alfonzo’s movements were controlled, sacrificing carnal passion for gentle sexual introduction. She completely relaxed, he saw it when she smiled and felt it when the crushing sensation eased and her hips swiveled to join in this sexual dance. She peered from beneath those dark lashes with such satisfaction he almost chuckled. Mission accomplished, she was no longer on a virgin island.
She clung to his neck and imitated his movements, so naturally and on point he nearly forgot a minute ago she’d never been intimate with a guy. Obviously, she learned fast and when he kissed her hungrily, he met fire in return. Her fingers were squeezing his biceps and she was tonguing him like a pro. Oh Shit, now she’s stepping up the game!’
He gyrated, rolling his pelvis, lifting and descending with her, gripping her buttocks pushing up and down on them, rotating her cheeks to wax her interior walls. Her tongue froze, her head went backward as goosebumps appeared on her skin and she cried his name, as indescribable shockwaves exploded throughout her body.
She pant, “Alfonzo…Alfonzo,” as the sensual friction grew more powerful. She didn’t know how to contain it and he was increasing its intensity with his lips on her, suckling and tasting her as if she were food. He was extremely cut, muscles in all the right places and the one inside of her, so damn delicious, she wanted to taste it. But Alfonzo led the dance with his sensual movements and she had no choice except to follow. Their synchronized tempo was a sensual one and he grinned when she grabbed his ass panting from the sheer wonder of what was occurring.
Soon, he increased the tempo, loosening his personal restraints a bit and he brought her legs higher to his shoulders, went harder and she flopped like a ragdoll, thrashing, trying to lift forward, rubbing his thighs, anything to slow the momentum. But he wanted her to feel it all and smiled when she spasmed. He felt the heat increase on his penis and slowed the tempo. Moist hands gripped his flesh when another spasm seized her and she moaned. He smiled as she savored the euphoric sensation of copulation. He kissed her cheek, as the soft hands continued to caress his back and buttocks. Selange became totally pliant as the orgasmic sensation corrupted every fiber of her soul. She clutched at him when her vaginal muscles rapidly squeezed his shaft and her arms stretched over her head and she exhaled in one long musical note, “Ohhhhhhhhh.”
He slowly withdrew and Selange’s hand slid down his side as he tossed the soiled condom in the wastebasket then eased down beside her and brought her head into the crook of his arm.
What the hell am I doing, chicks never spend the night?
His flesh remained afire and beads of sweat were visible on his forehead. Selange caused him worry because he was beginning to care about her. She was atypical from the usual women he screwed. She was sweet, smart, caring and unspoiled. But he worried, he might hurt her…emotionally…and he didn’t want to do that. “How you doing?” He asked.
She smiled and it was breathtaking, “Tired and happy.”
He kissed her forehead and caressed her scalp with his fingers. “Go to sleep, I’ll wake you in a couple of hours.”
She nodded then drifted to sleep, wrapped protectively in his arms. Selange made him feel good. The sudden overwhelming possessiveness frightened him.
Was it possible to love a woman when bridled by demons? He wondered. Sometimes he stood on the edge of death, yeah; being out there humping and grinding with ruthless back-stabbing motherfuckers could get you a bullet. He wondered if all the crazy shit going on was because he pissed off somebody and didn’t know it. There were so many people standing on line for his ass, he should give out numbers like they do at DMV. Hell, anger and violence always lurked in the shadows on these streets.
‘Crazy blue eyes, that’s what they call me. Simply because I’m not afraid to die and they are!’
He scoffed, glanced at the fly woman in his arms and dismissed the possibility of a long-term relationship. She hadn’t witnessed the darkness of his life, or knew the depths of his deception. At this moment he experienced a semblance of normalcy. A joy of being connected with someone special, but he dared not hope for the impossible. One thing he learned about life was; on the heel of happiness sits tragedy. Happiness, even a small portion became a liability in this business. A steady woman was a lethal distraction. Enemies hid, plotted and waited for an opportunity to strike, sometimes they struck at the heart of a man and hit the people he loved. It didn’t matter if you got out the business, found religion…once in the game…always in the game.
This killer with the name Freddie had struck at his heart.
He realized the irony, Uncle Al and Selange’s mom were happy and now they’re dead. A relationship with Selange had been a transitory thought.
***
Maria cleaned the house with the assistance of Carmen’s children late that evening. She opened the drapes to see Alfonzo’s car parked at the curb. It was six in the evening and she had yet to tell him about his father. Those men last night said Luzo wanted to see his son. Panicked, she sent them away hoping they would not return. Carmen calmed her and advised her it was time to tell Alfonzo the truth before the men returned. The gift they brought for her son was placed in a hall closet, far back on the shelf. Shakily she retrieved the large package and decided to tell him now. They would open the box together. Yes, she must do it before her courage waned.
Lights were on in the basement. Glasses lined the bar and a small red box sat there. A box identical to the one Selange carried last night. She put her ear to the bedroom door, nothing. She tapped lightly, waited, then entered. She cupped her mouth emba
rrassed at imposing on such an intimate moment. Alfonzo slept cradling the nice girl Selange. Her wavy hair cascaded down his bare chest. They looked so peaceful and happy. Discreetly she retreated rolling the rosary beads around her neck in prayer. Once Alfonzo learned the truth he may never forgive her but God would.
CHAPTER TWENTY—TWO
His cell rang like crazy. It awoke him from a deep slumber. Alfonzo squinted groggily at the clock, “Man, it’s after ten o’clock.” He twisted his head to find Selange resting soundly with one bare leg peeking from beneath the cover. Damn, she looked so beautiful he thought before slipping quietly out of the bed. He rummaged through his pants pockets until he grasped the cell and checked the messages. There were numerous missed calls and texts. There was a long tirade from Antonia which he immediately deleted before dropping the cell on the nightstand and heading to the shower. When he finished bathing, he dressed in a casual outfit then strolled upstairs to raid the fridge. I‘m starved!
He returned later to find Selange sitting on the edge of the bed wrapped modestly in a sheet. He smiled, wondering why in the hell would she hide such a luscious body?
“Hi,” she said.
“Good evening babe,” he replied cheerfully. His mood light because of her.
I can get accustomed to having her around, regularly!
She stood too fast and a foot became entangled in the sheet bringing her crashing into him. He steadied her and chuckled, “Careful.”
“I guess I’m not awake, yet.”
“I guess not,” he chuckled. She looked radiant, even now.
“Can I have a towel?”
“Yeah, sure…follow me…they‘re right in here.” He said while escorting her to the bathroom. He opened the linen closet then departed.
Later, Selange emerged from the bathroom clean and refreshed to find the bedroom tidied, her clothes folded neatly atop the bedspread and Alfonzo MIA. She looked around the fashionably decorated bedroom with its king-size bed and paisley divan with the Aztec afghan draped over one side smiling from ear to ear. This was a masculine room, dark mahogany headboard, matching paintings of horses in muted hues of dusky brown and her smile faded when she wondered how many women he entertained here. She felt a pang of jealousy for the first time in her life. After what occurred between them she prayed he’d be gentle with her heart. A man like Alfonzo was certain to break it, but she was willing to suffer the pain for a smidgeon of happiness. The only reason she remained a virgin is because she hadn’t met anyone who elicited an emotional and physical desire until Alfonzo. She walked toward the closet, opened it and whistled, “Wow!”
She touched the assortment of men’s shirts, Gucci, Armani, True Religion, Hugo Boss, Calvin Klein, Ralph Lauren, Yves Saint Laurent and countless others. Her broad smile was a result of indecision. She couldn’t choose among the quality items to cover her nakedness. They were all brand spanking new on shiny wooden hangers with an aroma of cedar.
Oh what the heck! She reached inside and removed a light blue shirt which happened to be a Burberry Prorsum button down. When she put it on, it hung loosely on her like a dress and she laughed. This was like playing dress-up with her parents clothes. The memory quieted her joy.
Alfonzo entered the room just as she wiped her nose with the sleeve of his shirt, “Hey, what happened?”
She waved at him trying to get herself together. Her voice trembled, “I just started thinking about my father and got emotional, no biggie.”
He knew how it felt trying to be tough, wanting to let go but afraid of being labeled weak. He mastered the art of emotional suppression and at times wondered if he was born with a cold heart. Then she came along at a tragic juncture in his life and his heart began to melt. He was fighting the feeling but losing an emotional battle.
Alfonzo sat the plate of food and drink on the side to comfort her. Soon, a liquid warmth from her tears seeped through his shirt. He said nothing as she cried out the sadness, pain, hate, helplessness and frustration. He let the tears run a river across his heart. After a time she sniffled, wiped her face and grinned in embarrassment, “I’m not this emotional. I just get these moments when it all hits me.”
“Selange if you didn’t cry I’d think something was wrong with you.” He looked at her in the oversize shirt and asked, “Hungry?”
“Thank you I’m really starved.”
He guided her toward the plate of food and she sat down on the edge of the bed scooting forward to eat. He reclined and watched. He liked the way her mouth creased as she chewed and the dimples forming on her cheeks. He liked the way she smelled and the rich quality of her long hair. He liked everything about her and felt conflicted whether to walk away or stay. Detective Winoski advised he stopped hanging around her, it was dangerous, especially if someone was out to kill him. She was right but it was hard to do. He thought about his lifestyle, geez, he’d corrupt her. Man –everything about him was wrong for her. He reviewed her lists of attributes. She was smart, virtuous, caring, cultured, beautiful, classy and innocent. Yes, extremely innocent. He put his hands behind his head and closed his eyes listening to her eat and the sound of footsteps overhead. She suddenly jumped on the bed and straddled him. His eyes flew open, “Going to sleep again?”
“No, relaxing.”
“I had a really good time. Thanks Alfonzo.”
She was lying the length of his body, staring in his face. Her lips hovered above, soft and inviting. “Thank you for coming.”
“You’re welcome.”
He became aroused and sought distraction through conversation, “How is it working as a teacher, aren’t a group of rugrats stressful on a daily basis?”
Animatedly, she described the kids in her class and how great it was to work with them. He listened attentively. Impressed by her dedication and passion.
She tapped his chest, “Your turn.”
From a supine position he could see the perfect arch of her neck and a small beauty mark right below her chin. He noticed the slight pucker of her lips caused a dimple to appear just below the corner of her mouth. A sexy mouth he wanted to kiss, instead he replied casually, “What do you want to know?”
“Everything.”
She waited patiently and he decided to share. “I have a Master’s in Business from Columbia University.”
Her head jerked, “Serious?”
He smirked. Many people weren’t aware of this. He didn’t have an intimate connection or desire to share such personal details with them. “I have a Broker’s License and own a real estate development company.”
“A Latino Rockefeller, huh?”
“ Not really,” he said modestly.
“What type of books do you read?” She asked.
“Umm…” He thought a minute, “Greek Mythology…and anything about finance.”
Selange found this revelation antithetical to his outward appearance.
“Who’s your favorite Greek character?” She probed.
A smirk, she was testing him. He rubbed his chin then replied, “ Odysseus, y‘know from Homer‘s, Odyssey?”
She liked it, too, “Yes, why ?”
“I like he finds creative solutions to get his ass out of trouble. It’s analogous to my life in a way. Satisfied?”
“Yeah, I like that too.” She smiled to lighten the mood then asked, “Have you ever been in love. I mean deep passionate love?”
She listened intently, waiting, but he preferred discussing Homer, this topic opened old wounds. Reluctantly he shared, “Not really, I did have a bad crush once.”
“What happened?”
“I caught her kissing a guy in a club and finito it was over.”
“Whoa, that’s messed-up, how long were you seeing her?”
“Seven months too long.”
Selange became pensive and wondered if he was over his ex. She didn’t want to be the rebound chick, the one with the leftovers.
He sensed her unease and changed the subject, “What about you bonita, how man
y hearts have you broken?”
Embarrassed she said, “I haven’t had any serious relationships, I was preoccupied with school. Dating wasn’t a high priority.”
He smiled, beautiful and motivated. He liked that!
“I’m glad school is over then,” he said.
She laughed, “I‘m considering pursuing my Master‘s.”
“You should do it.” He was enjoying the intimate conversation. Talking to her was easy. “What else do you want to do?”
“I haven’t thought past that point.”
He nodded, “Tell me something quirky about you.”
She wiggled making herself comfortable and his mouth pursed tightly. She shouldn’t keep doing that. It was making him horny.
“Didn’t I already tell you I watch cartoons…that’s seriously quirky,” she giggled, “I love the artwork on a lot of the Japanese ones, their artwork is crazy.”
Her smile was infectious, “My little cousins think they’re pretty cool, too. What about literature, what do you like?”
“Um…let me see,” She mimicked, “Poetry, Stephen Crane’s one of my favorites,” she began to recite one aloud;
“A man saw a ball of gold in the sky;
He climbed for it,
And eventually he achieved it—
It was clay.
Now this is the strange part:
When the man went down to the earth
And looked again,
Lo, there was the ball of gold.
Now this is the strange part…”
Alfonzo completed the final verse: “It was a ball of gold.
Ay, by the heavens, it was a ball of gold.”
Selange stared in awe, “No guy I’ve met heard of Crane.”
“Well I have,” he said, with a very serious expression.
She shift her body again, “ Obviously.”
