In French, bleu marine, was navy blue and the carpet inside the beachfront casino, the smallest along the coast, was navy blue, as were the mini-dresses of the waitresses and female dealers. The males were in all white. Built on a nautical theme with a huge ship’s wheel atop the roof, the Bleu Marine was actually the classiest of the Mississippi Casinos, with a four-star restaurant and a hotel to rival the best in New Orleans.
His car was waiting for him, air-conditioner on medium. He tipped the valet and climbed into his early-issue, mid-sized, titanium silver, 2006 BMW 530xi sedan. Plush with a maple wood dash, a GPS navigation system and a zooming 255-horsepower engine, it was still a mid-sized four-door car, unlike the full-sized Mercedes his father drove or the flashy yellow Hummer his brother tooled around in. That damn thing could be seen from the space shuttle.
OK, he thought, I’ll get the waiter aside and pay for the meal. No, this was her invitation. She might be insulted. He’d just ask to pay the check when it arrived. He suddenly realised he should bring her something. He should have been looking for something instead of napping this afternoon.
What do you get for a woman who could have anything she wanted? Something personal? Flowers? Candy? No, way. Lucy was thin and probably worked at it. Something personal but not over the top. No jewellery. Not yet, anyway.
He was about to turn around to return to the casino gift shop, when he spotted a small gift shop next to what looked like a high school in downtown Pass Christian. Inside he found something funny and bought it. Make a woman laugh and you’re on the right track.
Glancing at the dashboard clock he saw he was going to be early for their date, so he slowed down and drove past the marina, continuing along Highway 90, the scenic highway running along the gulf, water on one side, homes on raised ground on the other. Most of the homes were white, wooden, with covered galleries running around all sides. Some were brick, some mansions, some ante-bellum houses that had survived many hurricanes. He’s heard the Incanto estate was built before the Civil War, set back a ways from the highway, surrounded by a stone wall and separated from the noises of beach and highway by a splash of piney woods.
He made a u-turn, arriving at the small Pass Christian Marina dotted with shrimp boats on one side and pleasure craft along the other. He parked, got out and started for the gangway leading to the yachts. He spotted a large black man in a black suit, the tell-tale bulge of a semi-automatic under his left arm. Joe had left his .40 calibre Smith and Wesson in the glove compartment. The man watched him approach, nodded and said, ‘Miss Incanto will be here in about 60 seconds, Mr Perito.’
Joe nodded as he stood holding the small gift bag from the gift shop. Not a minute later, a black V-series Cadillac with blacked-out windows pulled up. The driver’s door opened and a man identical to the man standing next to Joe nodded their way. The man next to Joe stepped over and opened the back door for Joe, who took off his sunglasses before climbing in.
Lucy Incanto was inside, seated against the far door. He caught a whiff of her perfume as he slid in next to her. Facing him, her knees pointed in his direction, he took her in, from her hair hanging in long curls now, wide eyes glimmering at him. She wore a silky red dress with a lacy front that looked more like a fancy slip than a dress. Short enough to show the tops of her thigh-high stockings as she sat. But it was her face that was most alluring. Her make-up was subtle but dramatic, showing off her eyes and those kissable lips.
He took the gift out and handed it to her. Her brow furrowed as she held the small, super-soft stuffed animal in her hand. It was a hound dog, floppy ears, big eyes, red tongue sticking out as if it was panting.
‘Since I acted like a hound dog earlier, I thought it appropriate.’
She giggled.
That was something, at least.
She was braless, her pointed nipples pressed against the silky fabric, small nipples. She let him take a few seconds to drink her in as the man who’d been waiting for Joe climbed in front next to the driver, the Caddy eased through the parking area as Lucy smiled and said, ‘You look nice.’
‘You look great.’
She nodded at his crotch. ‘I can see you approve.’
He looked and his dick was protruding. He readjusted the way he sat so his loose-fitting pants wouldn’t be pressed so tightly around the front.
‘Sorry,’ he said.
She smiled again and took his hand. ‘What would you prefer, Caribbean cuisine or old-fashioned southern?’
‘This is your show, lady. I thought you’d show me your yacht.’
She gave him a wicked smile. ‘That’s for later.’
He could feel his heart stammering in his chest and tried his best to look as if he was, in fact, cool.
Over chilled Caribbean shrimp, Joe politely asked her not to call him “Little Joe” as they both ignored the glances of the other diners in the Martinique Bistro. She nodded, smiling warmly. Set on pilings over the dark gulf water a few miles east of the marina, the bistro was unpainted outside, looked funky with an interior reminiscent of a Carib beach bistro, but the food was magnificent, specializing in seafood and a surprising array of French dishes.
They said very little, letting their eyes talk and that seemed more attention-grabbing to the people around them, who seemed to sense something elemental was going on at their table, something that needed little talk. With Sadé, Bob Marley and Peter Tosh echoing softly in the background, Lucy and Joe spent their first meal together, holding hands on the way out, not saying a word once back in the Cadillac, not until they left the twin-tower bodyguards on the private dock of the Incanto family yacht.
‘Wine or something stronger?’ Lucy kicked off her high heels as she led the way into the main cabin of the 100-foot sailing yacht.
‘Wine’s fine.’ Joe knew little of yachts, but this one seemed to have all the bells and whistles, including a sumptuous living room with built-in sofas, a big screen TV, stereo system, VCR, DVD, everything except a robot-butler.
She brought them matching glasses of red wine, dry and familiar.
‘Valpolicella,’ she confirmed. ‘Bolla, of course.’
‘I’ve been there. Outside Verona.’ As they settled on one of the sofas, he took a few minutes telling her about the northern Italian vineyards sandwiched between the River Adige and Italy’s largest lake, Lake Garda, the bright green vines, the dark purple grapes.
He felt he was rambling and stopped. Lucy put her glass down and leaned forward, hesitating as her face neared his, a softer smile on those sculptured lips now, an almost innocent gaze to those alluring eyes. Their first kiss was feathery soft, slow and tender. The next wasn’t. Tongues working against each other, Joe reached over, brushed her bare shoulders with his fingers and pulled her top down. His hands moved to her breasts, caressing them, rolling over her nipples.
Finally coming up for a breath, he moved his mouth to her neck, kneading her breasts as her breath came out raspy, his hot and strong. He kissed his way down to her nipples, running his tongue over them. As he kissed them, back and forth, he saw how light pink her aureoles were and felt his cock throb as if it would explode.
Lucy lay back, pulling him with her as he continued kissing her breasts. He looked up at her face and her eyes were closed, those sculptured lips open and gasping. He lost his momentum, took the moment to sit up and start removing his shirt. His mind flickered on for a second, knowing he was giving her a second to reconsider what was about to happen next. Rarely would he do this for an ordinary woman, but this half-naked woman lying next to him was Lucy Incanto, daughter of … no matter if the old man was in a coma. This was family.
Lucy watched him take off his shirt, stand to kick off his loafers, unzip and pull down his pants, jockeys and shove off his socks. Standing naked in front of her, his cock sticking straight up like a flag pole, he could see her staring hungrily at it and knew there was no slowing down with this hot hussy.
But he forced himself to move slowly, purposefully, to satisf
y this woman like he’d satisfied no other. He pulled her dress past her hips. She raised her ass as she stared into his eyes now. Cupping his fingers into the top of her white panties, he pulled them off and looked down at her pussy for the first time, the soft, silky pubic hair, the wet lips. He pulled off her stockings one at a time, dragging his fingers down her legs as he did, still staring at her open pussy. He kissed his way from one knee up to her bush, licked it, then kissed his way down her other leg. Raising her leg, he moved his head to kiss the backside of her knee, which seemed to send a shudder through her.
He licked his way back to her pussy and sank his tongue in it. She cried out and grabbed his hair. Joe worked her clit with his tongue and slipped a finger inside to roll around in circles within the hot folds of her pussy lips. She was so wet and sweet tasting, he wolfed her pussy, working it as she cried again and again, her hips bucking.
‘Oh, God!’ She came, bouncing and panting, yanking at his hair, then his ears, pulling him up. He rose over her and pressed the tip of his swollen cock into her pussy.
‘Condoms!’ She gasped. ‘In my purse.’
He nodded, reached down and picked up her purse, passing it to her before returning to the same position, pressing his cock against her sopping pussy.
‘Here,’ she said, yanking the wrapping from a condom.’
He took it but continued working his cock into her tight pussy.
‘I want,’ he gasped now, ‘to feel your pussy without a condom first.’ He shoved himself all the way in and she curled her back and cried out again. He stroked her several times, feeling the hot folds of her pussy pulling at him before he withdrew and slipped on the condom.
She reached down and guided his cock back to her pussy and wrapped her legs around him as he started a frenzied fucking of this gorgeous woman. He tried slowing down several times, but she wouldn’t, fucking him back, bouncing, pulling at him with that pussy.
He tried his best to hold on, to hold back but she wouldn’t cooperate and he came in furious spurts and continued pounding her until his flaccid cock slipped out. They lay there for a few minutes, catching their breaths, letting the air-conditioning cool their hot bodies.
‘Bathroom?’ Joe asked and was directed to a door at the far end of the cabin where he removed the condom and flushed it. Running cool water over his face, he ran his wet hands through his hair and looked in the mirror. For a second he looked 15 years old, like the first time he’d had pussy, looking so excited, so wide-eyed, so fully of discovery.
Lucy tapped on the bathroom door and said, ‘My turn.’
She came out a minute later, brushing her hair, taking him by the hand and leading him into a bedroom cabin where a queen-sized bed awaited them. She tossed the hairbrush on a dresser, pulled him to bed to curl in his arms. They kissed for long minutes until he felt his cock throbbing again. Pressed against her, she felt it too, reached down and stroked it as she laid him on his back and kissed her way down to it.
Her tongue flicked its tip, before she kissed the shaft down to his balls, kissed each ball and back up to the tip before sinking her mouth on his cock and sucking, head moving up and down. She worked it as his breathing increased, then she suddenly sat up, a condom in hand, the little minx, dressed it over his cock and climbed on, sinking on it and riding him.
He watched those luscious breasts moving up and down. He reached for them and she sank against his hands, her mouth finding his. The second time took longer in coming for both, but she came and he followed quickly. She sank on him and eventually rolled on her side to cuddle with him. He fought off sleep, staring at the ceiling, but when he looked at her she was dozing, looking angelic, so he closed his eyes.
Something moved next to him, waking him hours later and he saw Lucy propped up on an elbow staring at him. He blinked twice and said, ‘So, how’s my tryout going?’
‘Pretty good, so far.’
Thirds were slow and took even longer, with much kissing and little noises now, instead of the gasping and crying out. And it was nice, very, very nice.
Joe left before dawn, leaving Lucy in bed. She watched him dress through the open door before he came back in to kiss her goodbye.
‘When can I see you again?’ he asked.
‘I’ll call you.’
He laughed. ‘That’s my line.’
She reached up and pulled him down for a long French kiss.
‘I’ll call,’ she said as he left.
‘You’d better.’
She lay on her back, spread eagle, the AC cooling her, feeling the sticky perspiration on the sheets now. Mr Joe Perito had certainly done a number on her. Her pussy felt sore, pleasurably sore. It was a good fucking and more. Affection in those green eyes, gentleness. He really wanted this gig. She remembered the little hound dog she’d left in the Caddy and smiled again.
Mr Joe Perito would be hard to top.
She closed her eyes and smiled, wondering what the next one would be like.
Chapter 2
Fellas, We Have to Have an Understanding
LUCY WORE A YELLOW wrap dress, fitted, opening in front. She wore thigh-high stocking again. Pantyhose would mask her extra-sheer white panties when she flashed him, she wanted him to see the hint of dark bush under her panties. She checked herself in the full length mirror, liking the new pale blue eye-shadow over her eyes and the dark, almost brown lipstick. It gave a more striking appearance.
Moving back to the desk, she glanced out at the beach and gulf water. Not as many people today, and it looked hot out, hotter than normal. The light breeze filtering through the window screen was almost steamy. She closed it, sat in the captain’s chair and buzzed for the second candidate.
Another Joe, this one wore a grey Armani suit. Joseph Cavalcare, nephew of the Boss of Miami’s La Cosa Nostra family, was six feet seven, a nice cleft chin in a square jaw and deep brown eyes. At 28, Cavalcare was a capo and ran the family’s illegal gambling and legitimate hotel holdings.
He strolled in confidently, squinted his left eye as if examining Lucy closely as he stood in front of the desk and said, ‘I had reservations about this, until I saw you.’
‘Have a seat, Mr Cavalcare.’
‘Call me Ox.’
Ox? Lucy fought off a grin. This thing of ours, La Cosa Nostra, produced some pretty interesting monikers, Jackie “The Nose” D’Amico, “Three-Fingers Brown” Luchese, Albert “Mad Hatter” Anastasia, Willie “Ice Pick”, “Big Al” Capone. Lots of “Bigs,” like her papa, “Big Luke” and Joe’s father, “Big Joe”. Then again, there were animals, Chicago Boss Anthony Accardo was not only known as “Joe Batters” but also “Big Tuna”. There was “Joe Pig” Pignatelli, “Tony Ducks” Corallo, Salvatore “The Bull” Gravano, even Tony “The Roach” Rampino. Why not an Ox? Cavalcare wasn’t thick enough to be an Ox, but was on the way there. His had very little neck. There already had been a “No Neck”. Lucy forgot the guy’s real name. From the old days, of course.
‘So, what do I have to do to win this gig?’
‘The Guag has given me your qualifications,’ Lucy said evenly. ‘You seem to have the business acumen. We just need to see if we … click.’
A wide smile came to the face that wasn’t unhandsome. ‘So how we do that?’
‘We start with dinner.’
‘All right. Where and when do I pick you up?’
Lucy came around the desk, her heartbeat rising as she leaned her butt against the desk, the front of her dress opening nicely to show the tops of her stockings, maybe even a hint of panty. She told him where to park his car at the marina. She’d have him picked up and they’d return to her yacht after dinner.
The smile grew wider as he nodded and looked her over.
Sliding up on the desk, she went through the pulling-up-stockings routine. The wrap-dress opened all the way to her waist as she raised her knee to pull up the first stocking. Those brown eyes leered between her legs as if mesmerized, as she switched legs and worked the next stock
ing up, her legs tingling, a quick dampness coming between her legs. She closed them but the front of the dress remained open as she sat with her knees together.
‘You know how to get a man’s attention.’ Ox reached down to readjust his cock. He looked up at her eyes and said, ‘Whatever you have in mind sounds OK, ma’am.’ A sexy smile now as he took in a deep breath and waited for what would happen next.
Lucy laughed and climbed off the desk.
‘Later,’ she said on her way back around the desk.
‘I’ll just walk out now,’ Ox said. ‘If I can.’ He got up and walked stiff-legged out of the room, The Guag coming right in.
In another double-breasted suit, this one dark green, The Guag sat and asked, ‘What’d you think of Mr Cavalcare?’
‘He’s an ox.’
‘That’s his nickname,’ said The Guag with raised eye-brows. ‘You pegged him.’
As if.
‘Y’all set up a date tonight?’
Lucy nodded, turned and looked out the window at two brown pelicans gliding past.
‘Then I’ll leave you to it.’ The Guag got up. ‘I understand “Little Joe” Perito sent a gift.’
‘He doesn’t like being called “Little Joe”.’
‘Duly noted.’
The gift came that morning. A small box with three red roses. One for each time they fucked, no doubt. Joe wasn’t one to lavish expensive gifts on a woman. She liked that.
She hadn’t spoken to the Dutas since Joe’s night. They were fairly mute most of the time anyway, but she wanted to clear the air with them so she asked them to drop by the yacht before going to pick up Cavalcare. She was still in her bra and panties when her cell phone rang and Cal said they were on the dock outside the yacht.
‘Come in,’ she said. She opened the door, her heart racing, and waited for them to react to her lacy French bra and matching see-through panties, but they came in and looked at her as if she wore a sweatshirt and jeans. Jesus, maybe they’re gay.
Mafia Aphrodite Page 2
