by Mj Fields
The room is spinning, and I want to put my foot on the floor to make it stop. However, this bed is so far off the ground that I can’t without getting up. God help me, I don’t want to get up, I want to sleep.
But it spins on and on and on, so I slide down off it and manage to get myself onto the floor. I’m not loaded, I’m buzzed and I haven’t eaten all day.
I decide that’s the problem. I need a damn piece of bread. So, I contemplate how I will get down the stairs, and come to the conclusion that on my ass is the best way.
After sliding down the stairs, in a less than ladylike fashion, I steady myself at the bottom and stand. I am wearing just a t-shirt. Yes, his t-shirt, the one he put on me this morning that still smells like him.
Him.
The beast that likes ‘blow jobs just as much as the next guy,’ his words. Yet, he prefers to talk about them to some married whore, and not receive them from someone whose ears he has been banging for two days, with the ‘language of love,’ his words.
Yes, him.
Him.
The beast, who somehow in two days, has made me wanton with desire and dizzy with emotions not evoked previously. I decide, right here and right now, that the next man I bang is going to be a hot dog vendor, in the new city I reside in, and I will start all over again.
“Fuck. Him!” Yes, I say it out loud because that’s what I want the world to know, or at the very least, the inside of this refrigerator.
I turn around and see Abe and the Beast staring at me. Abe is looking at me like I’m crazy, and I want to flip him the bird. Dominic is looking slightly amused, as I set the gallon of milk-ish product on the counter.
“Want some?”
Dominic smirks as he looks at my tits that are also looking at him, son-of-a-bitch.
I turn around and open a cupboard in search of a cup, and it is full of shake mixes.
“Second on the left.” Abe has a smile in his voice. “Lock up behind you, Dominic. See you tomorrow.”
Then, I hear him walk up the stairs.
After getting the glass and turning, so that my tits and I are not facing him, I pour a glass of milk.
“I want some.” His voice fucks my ears again.
“Well then, get it yourself.”
I drink down the milk, or whatever it is, and it immediately wants to come back up.
I cover my mouth and head to the sink where I start to dry heave.
His hand is pulling my hair back and the other is rubbing my back. “You okay?”
I can’t even tell him to not touch me, because if I do I’m going to vomit. I’m going to vomit a lot.
When I wake in the morning, I am in bed and cold. I lift the covers and see that I am naked, except for my panties, and I wonder what the hell happened.
I sit up and there is a bottle of water and two Tylenol next to my phone and one message.
I hope you’re feeling better, Ladybug… Fucking Dominic
I lay back and try to fall asleep. The thought crosses my mind that he must have turned on my phone. I look and see the only message from him is this one. He must have erased all the others.
I open up Instagram and have over fifty new friend requests, and another picture of me sleeping on his chest. This time he has covered most of my back. I un-tag myself in the photos and want to cry.
So I do.
Four nights I have spent with him. Four, that’s it. I hate him for the pictures and for being attached to Jules. I look at his page, and both pictures were there, as well. I couldn’t read his responses; they were all in Italian. I could Google the comments, but why torture myself? I scroll through all his pictures, and the majority of them are with the girl I now know as his sister.
He adores her, I can tell. She is tall, like Dominic. She also has the same color eyes and hair, and that golden tan skin. I know it is the hangover I am sporting, but if not, I can easily say that he is so beautiful it makes my eyes hurt.
I see a message and click to open.
It is from Jules DeLuca.
You seem like a-- wholesome girl, so from someone who used to be, I reach out to offer this advice. Don’t get too comfortable. Dominic has a life in Italy. He has exquisite tastes and a pallet for the finer things in life. If you want to try to keep his attention, try oral. He loves fellatio. He says I am the best. That will not change. If you care to try, I suggest using a lot of saliva. It turns him on… Best regards J.B.
My stomach turns and not from the alcohol this time.
***
I receive a call from the property manager of the loft apartment. The credit check has been run and employment verified. I have a new home. I have a job. I have my new start. I should be excited. I am excited, but that message certainly cast a shadow over the beams of sunshine threatening to give me contentment.
I stand up, pace around the room, and stop in front of the dressing mirror. I look at myself, as usual when I feel like this. When I feel like it should be me and not Daleah, I feel guilty.
Why is it that happiness seems to be a threat?
***
We pull into Steelettos. Nikki is already here with Abe. He doesn’t want her to go, but she insists. The look on his face is priceless. I give her a heads up about the three Amazon chicks and my suspicions.
The girls know too, and think I am pulling their legs. I assure them, I am not.
We walk in and it looks different than it had before. There is artwork on the walls, the lighting is softer and there is a large, dark, wooden thick-planked table.
I quickly spot Nikki, Sabato, Abe, and four other men. Dominic isn’t there. Nikki waves us over and we go to join them. When I am introduced to Benito, he shakes my hand and kisses it. It makes my skin crawl. His eyes are black with no life in them. Efisto is introduced to all of us by Sabato. It is a very business-like introduction. What isn’t business-like is when Efisto nods to Mel and says to Benito ‘Voglio mangiatre la figa.’ I remembered Dominic using that same term when he and I were together the first night.
Sabato’s lip curls and isn’t seen by anyone besides me. His father’s comment is made after he kisses Mel’s cheek. Sabato looks at me and quickly away.
After we sit down, dinner is brought out by three women in black--I assume you’d call them dresses, although they barely covered their asses. Paige leans over and whispers, “Is that them?”
I nod.
Sabato watches as Mel looks at them. When their eyes meet, he leans back in his chair and holds eye contact.
“The tour of the club seems to be taking a little longer than it should, wouldn’t you say, Sabato?” Benito chuckles. “My wife must be entertaining. It’s a good thing I’m not a jealous man.”
The sick feeling in my stomach returns. When I look up, Dominic and a black haired woman walk out from the back.
Jules DeLuca.
Jules is taller than me and very thin. Her breasts seem too large for her frame. She wears a lot of make-up, too. I assume she is pretty underneath it all. Dominic sees me and quickly looks away. I glance toward her and her eyebrow rises slightly, as a look of malice crosses her face.
“Please excuse me for a moment,” I say, as I stand and leave the table.
I am in the bathroom, looking in the mirror, wishing I had not come. When the door opens, I am shocked to see her walk in and shut the door behind her.
“You know you’re wasting your time, don’t you?” she asks, as she pulls a tube of lipstick out of her handbag and leans toward the mirror to apply it. “You seemed to have had his eye for a few days, but as you can see, I’m here now. Ask yourself, Laney, if you could choose a diamond or cubic zirconia, which would you choose?”
She puts her lipstick back in her bag and turns to face me.
Shocked that she is here in New Jersey, here in the bathroom, and shocked by her audacity, I don’t respond immediately, leaving the door wide open for her to continue spewing venomous insults at me.
“Of course, it would be the diamond my
dear, dear, Laney,” She gives a fake pout. “So, did you take my advice? Did you wrap your lips around his thick, hot--”
“I have one question for you. Do you think a man prefers fake breasts or real?”
She isn’t expecting that and she isn’t expecting Dominic to walk in the door, any more than I am.
“Everything alright in here?”
She says, “Yes, of course.”
I interrupt, “No, not really, Dominic. Apparently, the photos of you and I, that you posted online, without permission, gave this lunatic permission to message me about how much you enjoy wet blow jobs.”
“Jules did you do that?” He seems shocked.
“Of course, I--”
“Excuse me, please.” I walk past him and out the door. He follows.
I sit, drinking my wine, and nearly throw up. The taste isn’t settling well with me after last night. Actually, it is worse, much worse but I don’t care.
“Did you take my wife in the bathroom as well?” Benito jokes, as Dominic sits across the table.
The girls working here laugh, but no one else does. It isn’t a joke. It is what he does. Fuck Benito DeLuca’s wife, with permission.
I watch her carry on a conversation with the table and everyone around us, as if she is unaffected by what just happened. Inside, my blood is boiling. Jules has crossed a line, and more than once.
When dinner is finished, Efisto stands and announces he would like to see the stage.
“It’s not finished yet. How about another time, Father?” Sabato suggested.
“Nonsense. What more do we need? Three willing participants and you. We have guests to entertain.”
Sabato stands and his face turns to stone, expressionless, and unaffected.
“Abe, a moment please?” I ask.
Abe and I stand in the entrance of the club, “The women need to leave. This isn’t something they need to see.”
“Agreed.”
“Is everything alright?” Nikki asks Abe, as she walks into the entry.
“We’re going to leave.”
“Why?”
“Not appropriate type of entertainment,” Abe answers.
“We aren’t children, Abe. A little striptease isn’t going to offend any of us. Well maybe, Mel, but she’ll be fine.”
“It’s a little more complicated than that,” he says, as he takes her hand and walks back inside the club.
I look around and the front room has emptied. Anxious, I quickly walk through the door leading to the stage room. The room isn’t like kink or fetish clubs, there aren’t any fluorescent lights or glitzy decorated crosses or pretty colors. It is, in essence, Sabato: raw, no bullshit to glamorize the lifestyle. Sabato made the crosses. If you look around the dungeon…playroom as it is better known, you will see the perimeter of the room is composed of small stages, all made for bondage, every other one with a cross. It is dark with an air of danger and mystery.
I watch Nikki whisper to the girls, who are seated in the center of the room, where several large, leather, round, custom-made pieces are arranged with the purpose of visibility.
Whatever your pleasure, is how Sabato describes it. If your seduction is to watch, you can easily and comfortably see all 365 degrees of the room. If you want to participate, you can pick your poison.
Very few things remain from when Zandor started this club and more changes are still in store.
Sabato and one of the club’s women, walk out of the back. Sabato is in the zone. He doesn’t take any of this lightly and his concentration is unbreakable. Sabato is shirtless and has changed his pants. Instead of dress slacks, he now wears dark green cargo pants. He told me once that he is more mobile in looser clothes. If clothes are required, he will wear his other business pants. His hand is on the lower back of the smallest of the three women who has come here to the US with him. Sabato doesn’t take the stage with one of the crosses; instead he takes one with rigs suspended from the ceiling. Ropes.
I walk over to the group and look around to make sure Jules is nowhere near Laney. She will be dealt with. When I don’t see her, I am curious but think nothing of it.
“Have a seat, Dom,” Benito pats the spot next to him. “Tonight we have a special treat.”
Jules walks out and onto a stage with a girl I don’t recognize. “The new girl,” Efisto says, as he licks his old dry and chapped lips.
I look at Abe and nod to the door.
He leans over and whispers in Nikki’s ear. Laney looks up at me and then quickly away. She is hurt. I want to talk to her, tell her things that I know I can’t, not yet, possibly not ever.
As they stand, Jules walks over in her red silk robe. “You are leaving before the show even begins?”
“The ladies are ready to retire,” Abe says, as he turns his back to her.
I see the way she looks at Laney and I step in, needing to ensure that Jules doesn’t antagonize her anymore. I am hurting her and not by choice. No one else will be allowed to do that to her in my presence.
I walk behind her, ensuring she will be out the door unscathed by Jules. I take her elbow before she walks out the door; she turns and looks up.
“You look beautiful tonight.”
“Do you think that makes this easier?” She waves her hand through the air. “Goodbye, Dominic.”
When Sabato’s scene ends, he gives me a nod. I follow him back to the office.
“Everything is set?”
“One phone call to Detective DeAngelo and they come in.”
“The girl looks young.” He closes his eyes and rolls his neck. I notice his right hand tremble as he holds it with his left.
“Not that young, Sabato. It’ll all work out.”
“It better.”
***
As planned, I leave before the others. Not as planned, Jules asks for a ride to their hotel, saying she doesn’t feel well.
As soon as we get on the road I light into her, “You do not ever, ever, speak to her like that, again. You do not message her, you don’t even look in her goddamn direction, are we clear?”
I have never seen Jules look scared before, and right now, that’s exactly how she looks. “Take me back.”
“No. You asked to go to your hotel, and that’s where I am taking you. Don’t look at me like I’m frightening you, either. You were wrong.”
“How am I supposed to act, like I am not in constant fear?”
“You know damn well, you have nothing to be afraid of with me. Don’t start, Jules.”
“You’re tense and that has always scared me, let me take care of you.”
Her hand slides across my pants and I push it away. “We’ve discussed this.”
“It seems she isn’t interested. The problem has been resolved.”
“It’s not a problem and nothing has been resolved.”
I am grateful that the hotel is only ten minutes from the club.
I pull up in the front, “You’re not coming?”
“Jules, I have things to do. This goes down tonight.”
“What if--”
“No what ifs. You go in and get settled. I will call you when it’s done.”
I look at my watch. I have three hours to get to the airport, pick up Valentina and try to explain what the hell is going on. I have an apartment set up in the city for her to be tucked away in, until the dust had settled.
I stand in JFK and watch as my little sister walks through the security gate and looks around for me. It has been since Christmas, and even then, it was only four hours before she had to meet up with her friends from secondary school.
She is beautiful and happy.
After we lost our parents, she used to cry all the damn time. I was the only one who could console her. Hell, I was the only one who tried.
Grandmother Isabella had lost Aunt Josephina. Her and Grandfather disowned her when she chose to marry Jonathon Steel. Twelve years later, they lost their son, my father.
I remember the funeral servi
ce where Aunt Joe and her husband, Jonathan, stood in the back of the crowded church. When grandmother saw her, she started walking toward them, and grandfather stopped her. I don’t know what was said, I never would, but they walked in the opposite direction.
I knew my father and aunt still spoke, once a month, until he died. I also knew it wasn’t talked about in front of my grandparents.
Grandfather died soon after; that’s when Grandmother stopped paying attention to us and focused on the business. It was only a year later when she married Anthony DeLuca.
When I found Benito, DeLuca’s only son, watching Valentina, a little too closely, I stopped it. Of course, I was reprimanded. They believed him when he told them I was telling them lies, in order to gain their attention. I was sent to therapy for anger issues. Valentina was sent to a private secondary school, an all girl school. I knew she would be safe and away from Benito.
In essence, that’s when I gave up on any dream I had of being part of the family business. A business my father helped to build. A business that was once Segretti had been renamed DeLuca. That name, that sign on the headquarters, took away the last part of my dream that someday I would be able to have what my father wanted me to have.
Benito rubbed salt in the wound every time he had the chance and it stung. When Jase Steel, my first cousin, contacted me, there was no hesitation. I wanted in. I wanted what was mine, and my family’s, back.
Valentina didn’t want it, not then. I insisted. Deluca was the majority shareholder in what was then, and is still now, Deluca. That would end soon.
We drive into the city and pull up to an apartment building: one that I had bought and paid cash for. The papers were notarized this morning, they just need to be filed and recorded.
“I can’t believe you bought this place,” Valentina laughs, as she gets out of the vehicle and looks at the warehouse.
“I needed a place to tuck you away, until this has all blown over.”
“Oh, yes. This is all about me,” she says, and grabs my hand. “Show me, and then take me to a five star resort.”
