As he wondered what Lucy would wear today, he felt his cock stirring. Maybe she’d start with another leg-and-panty show. He was a little surprised to get one from her secretary. Wearing a pink denim mini-skirt and a fitted top that showed off her navel, she leaned back in her chair when he came in and put a knee up on the edge of her desk, showing her light blue panties. She announced she was Lucy’s cousin actually. So it ran in the family, flashing panties.
He sat stiffly and waited for Lucy to call him into her office.
Lucy pondered what to wear on her second round with Joe Perito. After an hour moving in and out of her walk-in closet, holding dresses and skirts in front of her, standing before the full-length mirror in her bedroom, she decided on something simple, something with a high collar, a dress reaching almost to her knees. It was light yellow, snug fitting and should be worn with a full slip. Without a slip, her white panties and cream-coloured thigh-high stockings could be easily seen, but not as clearly as her naked breasts. She decided on braless and watched Louie and Big Nose steal looks at her as she came out to the Caddy with her dark sunglasses.
Donna noticed right away when Lucy had walked in, stopping her with, ‘Hey, I can see right through that dress.’ Donna stood up, smiling excitedly.
‘That’s the point.’ Lucy did a slow turn for her cousin.
‘I can see your nipples, your complete tits.’ Donna giggled, like she’d finally caught Lucy doing something naughty.
‘Remember your appointment at the salon later,’ Lucy told her. ‘Shane Cody is the best around. Gay of course. And his head’s a little oversized. People come from New Orleans to get his treatment, which includes make-up counselling. Oh, and your elocution class starts day after tomorrow, right?’
‘Yes ma’am.’
‘Don’t give me that ma’am shit.’
Lucy turned to go into her office.
‘Wait. Whaddya mean his head’s oversized?’
‘He’s got a big head. Large. Like a basketball.’
‘Jesus.’ Donna leaned forward. ‘Really, I can see right through your dress.’
It was then Lucy took a minute to explain the power of the panty, of giving a man a peek at what he could have, if he played his cards right. Donna should know that but Lucy made sure. ‘Human males search for mates visually. That’s why God invented girlie magazines and porno.’
Donna’s chin sank. ‘I kinda like watching porno.’
Lucy grinned at her and went into her office.
Waiting for Perito, Lucy went over the questions she’d decided to ask all of the candidates about what they expected of this arrangement, about family and children, about what their expectations were. She also wanted to know these guys’ views; were they macho-men, typical Sicilian rule-the-house men or were they 21st century men, more understanding, not afraid to reveal their vulnerable side to a wife? Politics too, she wanted to know if they were democrats or a dixiecrat-republican, like her papa and most of the men in the family. She didn’t know if she could live with one of those whiteys lassoed into the Republican Party by Ronald Reagan’s cowboy boots and Stetson, hard-headed conservatives like the Bushes.
Lucy never realised she was political until she heard the men around her mouthing off against welfare moms and blacks and most recently, Hispanics. It was understandable, the Italians, particularly Sicilians, came to America speaking a foreign language and having trouble assimilating, sticking together like the Hispanics did today. But the Italians merged into American society; many becoming Republicans, leaving Sacco and Vanzetti far behind.
She’d never heard of Nicola Sacco and Bartolomeo Vanzetti until she got to Dartmouth where the story of the anarchists was bantered about by bearded professors and fresh-faced students seeking something radical to spout off about. Many turned to her because of her Italian name, so she looked up the story and discovered Sacco and Vanzetti were executed, not for the murder they clearly didn’t do, but for openly calling for anarchy. In the staunchly conservative 1920s, which Lucy saw parallels of in America, especially after 9/11 and the Patriot Act, the case of these Italian anarchists had gripped civil rights activists ever since.
At first she was intrigued by the Che Guevara posters adorning many dorm rooms, even the boys’ rooms, which she’d expected to have Playboy pin-ups on the walls. It was no wonder she’d never met a real man at college. She began to think the left-wingers were as limp-dicked as the rock conservatives.
So she’d subtly find out their political point of view. Hopefully, they would be middle-of-the-road democrats like her. Or better still, maybe they’d have Woody Allen’s point of view from Annie Hall, calling politicians one notch below child molesters. If there was one thing Lucy learned in the Incanto Family – don’t trust anyone in power.
‘So,’ Lucy said as she tooled her red Peugeot Feline along I-10, ‘it’s only 48 hours. We should have a lot longer to determine if we’re compatible, but we don’t have that luxury.’
Joe Perito took off his sunglasses to check out her breasts poking from between the seat belt strap. With the sun streaming in, it was as if Lucy were bare-chested. She noticed him looking and laughed that haughty laugh of hers. She’d pulled up the bottom of her dress too so he caught a glimpse of the top of her stockings. Already she was pulling his string, his cock actually.
He put his sunglasses back on and looked at the passing scenery, mostly piney woods. ‘You say it’s between Mobile and Gulf Shores?’
‘Fort Morgan, Alabama. On the peninsula dividing Mobile Bay from the gulf. There’s actually an old fort at the end of the peninsula.’
Joe nodded and looked at the black Cadillac Escalade SUV in front of them, driven by one of her twin bodyguards and filled with luggage and ice-chests. An identical Escalade following Lucy’s Peugeot held Joe’s lone suitcase and more of Lucy’s luggage and ice chests. When they’d pulled way from the Incanto building, he thought they were going to a wilderness retreat instead of a beach house on Mobile Bay.
A little over two hours after leaving Pass Christian, Lucy’s three-car caravan slowed as it accessed a two-lane blacktop leading from Gulf Shores, heading west now, with Mobile Bay on the right and the bright waters of the gulf on the left. Joe noticed the pale blue-green water in-shore and the dark ultramarine in the distance. They continued for a good eight miles before the lead SUV turned into a shell drive and Joe sat staring at the oddest beach house he’d ever seen. Most beach houses were wooden; elevated on creosote pilings, with a veranda surrounding the place, like the one next door to the Incanto’s sand-coloured stone beach house perched on a slight rise overlooking the white beach and gulf waters.
‘It’s field stone,’ Lucy said as she climbed out and stretched, her breasts pressing against the tight cloth of her yellow dress. He followed her shapely ass to the front door of the house, which was wood with a pointed top like a castle door. She punched a code into the alarm box outside the door and it popped open.
Joe started back for the SUV’s. ‘I can help with the bags.’
Lucy extended a hand. ‘They need the exercise. Your exercise is in here.’ She pulled him close and kissed his lips softly before Frenching him until he was out of breath. ‘You hungry?’ she asked.
‘I could eat.’
‘We will. After.’ She took his hand again and led him through a large living room to a stone staircase attached to a side wall. Over her shoulder, she called down to her twin bodyguards, ‘Instead of cooking after you bring in the gear, why don’t one of you go into Gulf Shores, to the Conch House and get us some grouper sandwiches.’
‘Yeah, you’re right,’ one of the twins answered.
She led Joe to a rear bedroom and opened the white curtains along a wall of sliding glass doors that opened to stone balcony running around the entire second floor and was telling him her bodyguards had their own bedrooms downstairs. It wasn’t until he was standing under an AC vent did he realise the place was cool, almost chilly.
‘You leave the AC
on all the time.’
Lucy turned and began to unbutton the front of her dress. ‘You saw that beach house about 50 yards away? Our caretaker lives there. He got the place ready for us. Cool enough for you?’
He nodded as she climbed out of her dress, draping it over a stuffed chair, standing with her fingers running through her hair as she stared at him for a long moment. She kicked off her high heels and moved to Joe, brushing his lips again, unfastening his belt. She helped him pull off his polo shirt, drop his pants and climb out of his jockeys. She left his shoes and socks to him then let him strip her of bra, panties and stockings.
In the super-bright sunlight streaming through the wall of glass, she looked radiant, those pink aureoles so soft looking, her small nipples pointy as he kissed her breasts, his hand moving between her legs. She spread them as his fingers rolled across her clit. Lucy let out a high-pitched sigh and manoeuvred Joe to the queen-sized bed where she lay and let him at her.
He tried his best to keep it slow, to keep it from being a frenzied fuck but she didn’t cooperate. As she dressed his cock in a condom, both panting now, her pussy so hot it almost burned his tongue, he thought about part of their conversation on the way over. Lucy said she looked forward to some long, slow love-making. Well, that would be later. For now, Joe shoved his cock in her and rode her like she was a bucking bronco filly. She worked her pussy muscles, milking his cock as she writhed beneath him.
Just before he came, she did with a high-pitched squeal he was sure the caretaker heard down the beach. She didn’t slow down a stroke, bouncing with his increased plunging. Pulling his face up he looked down at hers, saw the glow in it and the wide-eyed passionate stare in those brown eyes as they fucked. Jesus, he could fall for this girl, hard.
He came big time and then fell off, trying to catch his breath, desperate for the AC to cool his sweaty body. Before he could doze off, she slapped his leg and jumped out of bed.
‘The shower’s big enough for two.’
It was.
A pair of crispy fried grouper sandwiches later, washed down by icy Barq’s, the New Orleans root beer with bite, Lucy and Joe Perito walked hand in hand along the white sand beach. She wore the one-piece white bathing suit she’d worn with Furfante, the one that turned invisible when wet, dark sunglasses and the white hat to keep the sun off her face. Her pale skin sported a layer of sun-screen, while Joe’s glistened with suntan oil, smelling of coconut. The strong scents of salt water and sand swirled in the breeze as Lucy looked at the turquoise water inshore and the deep blue water away from shore, a white sailboat passing in the distance.
‘Is that your caretaker?’ Joe asked, turning Lucy back to the beach. She nodded at the white- haired man with a full beard as he approached with a man the same height, about five-ten, also with white hair and a handle-bar moustache. The caretaker walked with a rolling gait from knees obviously injured earlier in life.
When the men arrived, Lucy introduced Joe Perito to Luigi “Z-man” Zazzera, who introduced the man with him as his brother from Sicily, Guido Zazzera. ‘He doesn’t speak English. He’s visited before. I checked with The Guag for the OK.’
Lucy nodded. The old soldati – soldier – was so used to taking orders he would never do anything without permission, which made him the ideal caretaker. Loyal and unimaginative, this was the perfect retirement for a man who’d helped Big Luke ascend to Don and cement his position.
Guido looked older than Z-man who Lucy knew was about 60. Guido and Z-man wore black bathing suits, similar to Joe’s, Guido’s chest was white compared to his olive-skinned arms and legs. Z-man was well-tanned, the scars from four bullet wounds dotting his chest and belly with white divots.
‘The house was OK, Miss Lucy?’
‘It was perfect. Thank you.’
Bowing his head slightly, Z-man said, ‘You need anything, you know how to find me.’ He and his brother continued past the couple toward Cal who was trailing them at a respectable distance.
Joe picked up a sand-dollar and wiped the sand off. ‘Those were bullet wounds weren’t they?’
Lucy nodded. ‘And the limp is from being knee-capped back in the bad old days. He was one of my papa’s best soldati when they went to war with the Pepperonis.’
‘Come on.’ Joe laughed. ‘Like on pizza?’
‘Can you believe it? Sammy and Ray Pepperoni. Napolitanos from your city tried to muscle in when Papa was consolidating right after Camille.’ There again, everything to the Incantos timed from the big storm. Maybe they should mark time as A.C. – after Camille, instead of A.D.
Joe couldn’t stop laughing. ‘The Pepperonis.’
Before going back to the house, they took a quick dip in the warm, salty water. Standing up, Lucy watched Joe’s eyes light up at her transparent suit.
‘Where’d you get it?’
‘Fredericks of Hollywood.’
Joe laughed again and looked around. ‘If this is a public beach, why are we alone?’
‘We own all the private land a mile on both sides of the beach house. We get people on the beach but they have to hike.’
They came across two hikers by the time they headed back to the house. A young couple passed, the woman trying not to look at Lucy while her boyfriend raised his sunglasses to get a better view of her in the wet bathing suit.
That evening, after a plate of chilled anti-pasta washed down by a bottle of full-bodied Bolla Bardolino, they made love on clean sheets on Lucy’s bed. He was particularly loving kissing her face and mouth, neck and breasts down to her pussy, down her legs so the erogenous zones on the inside of her knees. She remembered one of the first things this man told her, ‘I’m a very, very good lover.’ It was true. She came to his tonguing and again as he came, shoving that cock in her, holding himself above her so his six-three frame wouldn’t flatten her and his light green eyes staring into hers with such emotion.
Later, as he slept, Lucy went out on the balcony, letting the night breeze blow through her hair. The full moon reflected off the shimmering gulf waters, the clear sky filled with stars that appeared especially bright that evening. She’d come up with the idea of a get-away with her candidates after watching a re-run of a Seinfeld episode, the one about couples taking trips together and how trips were relationship breakers, according to George Costanza. Well, with Joe Perito that wasn’t true so far.
As she moved along the balcony, she looked over at the caretakers and saw Guido sitting in a chair on the veranda. He had a pair of binoculars pointed at her. Lucy felt an immediate rush, knowing the old man was ogling her naked body. She pretended she didn’t see him only 50 yards away. She faced him, running her hands through her hair, giving him some full-frontal before turning around to give him a good ass shot.
When she peeked back, she saw him pass the binocs to Z-man, which caused Lucy’s heart to race. She leaned over the railing, pretending to see something below, then turned and flipped on the balcony light to give them a bright view, a few more minutes of full-frontal before turning off the light and going back in.
Joe was lying on his back. She went over and softly kissed his limp cock. She flicked her tongue against it and was sucking it when he woke with a start, lay back and rocked his hips to her sucking. When he was hard, she clothed his cock in a condom, climbed on top and rode him. She felt his cock deep inside as she rose up and down on it, triggering a shove from his hips. Closing her eyes, she envisioned what the old men had seen. Those old Sicilians watching her standing naked on her porch.
When she came, it was sudden and electrifying, sending deep shudders through her, drawing an immediate gush from Joe.
‘Jesus, Lucy.’
She collapsed next to him.
‘You know how to wake up a guy.’
Joe’s cock was sore. They’d fucked a dozen times the last 48 hours, mostly in her bedroom, but Lucy seemed hotter when they fucked on the beach as the sun set, then hotter yet when they fucked on the balcony, doggie style. He wasn’t sure but
he thought he saw the caretakers watching. Jesus, what a fuckin’ woman.
As he tooled his BMW away from Lucy’s office building, after a last lingering kiss, he got a call on his cell from his big brother, the underboss.
‘Yeah, it’s Louie.’ As if Joe wouldn’t recognise his brother’s voice. ‘Got a message for you from Joe ‘Ox’ Cavalcare. He’s a capo. From Miami. I think he’s one of the men Lucy Incanto’s running through the gauntlet to be her husband. Like you.’
Some fuckin’ gauntlet.
‘He wants a sit down. What’s he want to talk to you about?’
‘You got me. I’ll let you know.’
‘You want I should send a couple guys.’
‘No. This won’t be a duel.’ Joe was about to hang up but waited for his brother to give him the rest. When Louie didn’t he had to prod. ‘Where and when?’
‘Oh. He’s at someplace called the Blue Marina in Pass Christian.’
Joe rolled his eyes and told his brother he’d call after the meet. Slowing as he approached the Bleu Marine casino, Joe wondered what a man who called himself “Ox” would look like. He expected big, thick-necked and wasn’t surprised. What surprised him was the light blue Armani suit and soft voice of the solid man who came down from his room to meet Joe in the café.
At six feet, Ox was a good three inches shorter than Joe but his bulk made him appear larger. While Joe’s black hair was slicked back, a-la-Andy Garcia, Ox’s dark hair was unruly, which made him look younger.
They sat at a small table, each drinking iced tea.
‘I wanted to meet you,’ Ox said. ‘I came in a few days early. Kinda anxious, I guess.’ That the big man admitted any weakness was surprising. It made Joe relax somewhat.
‘I know what you mean.’
Ox shook his head. ‘She’s quite a woman.’
Joe nodded.
‘We have to keep our heads about this.’ Ox sat up straighter, looking Joe in the eye. ‘We can’t let this get out of hand. None of us are used to losing and only one’s gonna win.’
Mafia Aphrodite Page 10
