by Robin Gideon
This was a new phenomenon. William had always been able to concentrate on one woman at a time.
Suddenly he was having trouble doing that. He wasn’t certain why…and he didn’t like it a bit.
* * * *
“It’s getting close to five o’clock, and you gentlemen have been entertaining me since the early morning hours,” Diana said as she started to slide out of the booth at My Place. “I’ll leave you alone now so you can enjoy yourself.”
In unison, the four deVille brothers did all they could to assure her that she was, by no means, a burden to them—quite the opposite! And they wished that she would stay.
Diana smiled at them and kept the truth to herself.
It wasn’t that she wanted to leave them. It was that her father was getting dangerously close to the blind-drunk stage of intoxication, and whenever he got that plastered, it usually meant it would be difficult to get him into the truck to drive him home. And since Diana liked all the deVilles, and the twins Marcus and William in particular, she didn’t want to abjectly humiliate herself by having to dead-lift her father out of a bar and into a pickup truck.
“Before you leave, can I talk with you privately for a moment?”
Diana was a little shocked at William’s whispered comment. The deVilles tended to do everything as a group, as a family. Individual members didn’t just slide away on their own, certainly not without permission, and Diana got very much the impression that Luke hadn’t given his imprimatur for this one.
She hesitated only a moment then nodded. It was the briefest of nods. Almost surreptitious. She suddenly felt as if she was in a spy movie.
And she liked it.
There hadn’t been much excitement in her life lately.
“Meet us out back in five minutes. There’s something we’ve got to talk to you about.”
Diana had turned and taken several steps toward the kitchen when she realized he’d said “we’ve,” not “I’ve.”
Now what in hell could that mean?
* * * *
William excused himself then slid out of the booth. Marcus followed him. When they were on their feet, Diana eased back into the booth.
William felt as though there was a giant fist inside his stomach, knotting him up, making it impossible for him to relax. He looked at Marcus, his twin brother, and could tell just from looking in his eyes that the emotions going through him were equally intense.
He started for the back door to My Place. Maybe outside, with Marcus at his side, they could make some sense of the things they were feeling for Diana. His brain felt in a jumble.
“William.” It was Julie Smith, a waitress that he’d always found pretty, but there was something about her that disturbed him, something that didn’t quite sit right in his subconscious. He couldn’t say what it was, though he felt it on an instinctive level—and he was a man who liked to follow his instincts. “Going out back for a smoke?”
“I don’t smoke.”
Julie’s gaze roamed slowly, flirtatiously, over the twins. “Then I suppose you two just need a bit of…fresh air. I’ll bet big men like you need lots of fresh air.” She smiled. “Maybe there will come a day when you’ll invite me back there to enjoy some of that fresh air with you.”
There was no way of denying that Julie was being openly flirtatious with them. She kept one hand on William’s shirtfront and the other on Marcus’s. Using just her fingertips, she sought out their nipples through the cloth.
“But let me explain something to you boys,” she said, her tone changing significantly. “If you’re going to meet Diana out back, you may want to reconsider. My current boyfriend is her old boyfriend, and he told me that her cunt smells like shrimp cocktail sauce that’s gone rancid.” She smiled like a rattlesnake would if it could. “You might want to think about that before you decide to go down on her. Oh, and my boyfriend said she doesn’t suck cock very well, either. He says I do it much better.” Her smile broadened. “I suppose that’s another little something you’ll want to think about…because I’ve just given you both an offer. Anytime. Anyplace.”
She smiled at them both and then walked away.
William looked at Marcus and said, “That is one dangerous bitch.”
“Amen, brother. Amen.”
* * * *
Sam Geary sat in his office on the executive floor, knowing he was right, knowing he had his boss vulnerable and right where he wanted him, and knowing that he could go in for the kill…but he had to wait until the time was right. No, not just the right time. He had to wait until it was the perfect time.
Old Man deVille simply hadn’t been the same leader since his wife passed away two years earlier. He pretended he was, but Geary sensed that what he showed the rest of the world was just a false front, a flattering facade.
The death of his wife had unmanned Old Man deVille. She was his reason for living, and when she passed away, Old Man deVille died. Not literally, perhaps, but his reason for living had vanished. As near as Geary could tell, all that he was now was a corpse waiting for his heart to stop beating so he could be put in the ground.
He maintained a pretty solid charade. Always showed up for work at eight, driven to corporate headquarters by his chauffeur. And he seemed lucid enough, though he didn’t seem to remember all the things that he should. At noon he again got in the limousine, going home for lunch. He told everyone he had phone calls that couldn’t be disturbed. “Don’t bother calling me because I’ll be busy.” That was his standard line.
But Geary suspected otherwise. Was it a steady stream of booze from noon until bed? That was a good possibility. What about something with a bit more kick? Cocaine? That didn’t seem likely, given the old boy’s temperament. Marijuana? Crack? Neither one of those seemed likely, as far as Geary could tell. What about painkillers?
Geary smiled. He could picture Old Man deVille reaching into a bottle of painkillers, just to ease him through some troubling times. But then he’d reach again…and again…and then there would be no end to the excuses why he needed painkillers. First he’d take them to ease the pain, but then he’d take them to avoid the onset of pain.
His sons think they’re such big wheeler-dealers. Geary despised the deVille siblings. I’ll steal that fucking company out from beneath them, and they won’t even know what’s hit them until it’s too late. I’ve been busting my ass for deVille Enterprises for thirty fucking years, and if those four snot-nosed deVille boys think they’re going to keep me from owning it, they’re in for a big fucking surprise.
He smiled and decided he was going to get a blowjob from Cindy tonight. She was his administrative assistant, and three weeks ago she’d missed an apartment rent payment, a car payment, an early childhood education payment, and her little shit of a child had gotten an ear infection that needed medication that required out-of-pocket expenses.
He’d given her the necessary money, and she’d been in tears of gratitude to receive it.
He wondered what kind of tears she’d be shedding when she was on her knees repaying the interest on that loan. Not the loan itself, he reminded himself. Just the interest. He’d have his cock in her mouth a hell of a lot more times than just once before she paid off all that she owed him.
A sadistic smile pulled at the corner of his mouth. How loud would she scream if I fucked in her the ass? For Geary, it was a pleasant question to ponder.
There were times when a woman screaming in pain made his cock as hard as it used to get when he was just a teenager.
Chapter 3
Diana stepped outside, feeling a little apprehensive. It wasn’t that she was frightened of William and his brother. Quite the opposite. She felt safer with them than she did with any other men. It was just that she didn’t know what their conversation was going to be about. They’d been flirting together now for weeks. Though nothing had come of it, Diana knew she’d be an absolute fool if she didn’t understand that, beneath the lighthearted banter, there was real, honest-to-goodn
ess all-American lust spurring it on. Men and women simply didn’t flirt with each other for no reason at all.
Diana liked to keep a tight rein on her libido and an even tighter hold on her panties. She accepted that she had many faults, but being promiscuous wasn’t one of them.
Her libido was prone to flights of fancy, which she always kept a check on. Not necessarily a bad thing. Certainly nothing she had to apologize for.
Still, losing her panties could have consequences far more dire than simply fantasizing about doing something that perhaps she shouldn’t.
And if ever there were two men she wouldn’t mind losing her panties to, they were Marcus and William.
They were standing thirty yards from the door leading to the rear parking lot, both of them looking tall and tanned and gorgeous in the early evening sunlight. A lot of men came out here to smoke cigarettes, and Diana was glad that neither of the deVilles smoked. At least she’d never seen them smoke, and they’d already spent many hours together on the river.
“Hi, guys,” she said, trying to sound infinitely more casual than she really felt. “What’s all the secrecy for?”
William said, “We wanted to talk privately with you about something.”
Diana’s heart did a cartwheel in her chest, but she did her best to not let it show on her face. Up close and without their sunglasses on, they were even more handsome than during the chartered cruises.
After several seconds, Diana managed to say, “Oh?”
She watched as William and Marcus exchanged a look. Obviously, they were uncomfortable with whatever they were about to say, and that did absolutely nothing to ease Diana’s escalating tension.
“You see, we really enjoy coming out here fishing and spending time with you and your father,” Marcus said then put a fist to his mouth and cleared his throat. “But William and I have seen that your father keeps everything he earns and hardly gives you enough to buy a burger and a cocktail.”
Diana felt it in the pit of her stomach—the apprehension that she was about to hear something she really didn’t want to hear.
“So William and I thought it would be nice if we could charter your pontoon. That way you’d get some money, and we’d feel better about the whole thing.”
Diana wasn’t sure if she was being propositioned, being bought, or being treated like a hooker.
“It’d just be a sightseeing tour. No fishing involved, so your dad wouldn’t have to be there,” William added.
“You just feel the need to give me money?” The sarcasm was thick in her tone, and she made no effort to make it more civil. “Listen, guys, in the world that I live in, when a guy gives you money, there a one hundred percent chance that he wants something in return. And that something is always—and I mean always—sex. In one form or another, in one way or another, he’s looking to buy himself some sex.”
Both brothers simultaneously put their hands up near their chests, palms inward in a universal defensive gesture. Diana wondered if they had rehearsed the move. The expressions on their faces were the very heart and soul of misunderstood innocence.
“It’s not like that,” they said in almost perfect unison.
Diana shook her head and partially turned away from them. “It’s like listening to a stereo that’s just slightly out of sync.”
“Okay, we used the chartered boat bit foolishly,” William said, “but we really do feel that you’re getting cheated out of your fair share of the profits.”
“And we want to get to know you better,” Marcus said. Diana turned to face the men again. “We’ve never said five words to you that weren’t in front of your father. That makes it a little tough to get to know you as a woman instead of just a fishing charter pilot, now doesn’t it?”
Despite herself, Diana smiled, just a little at first, but then it turned into a broad one that she felt spreading across her face. In turn, she looked the men in the eyes, trying to glean if they were telling the truth or if they were just clever liars.
Many men were the latter, she had learned. Quite often at a painful price.
“Okay,” she said after thirty seconds of dead silence. “But I don’t want your money. All you can pay for is the gas.”
“But—” William began but was silenced with a raised hand and a glare from Diana.
“Just the gasoline. That’s it. Agreed? You’re not going to pay me just for my companionship.”
Once again they spoke in unison. “Agreed.”
* * * *
“Are you kidding me?” Marianne said under her breath, her blue eyes round with shock and delight.
Diana was sitting in the same booth at My Place with her best friend, Marianne St. Simone, where she had sat in with the deVille brothers. They had left an hour earlier. Diana believed that most times in life, the best advice came from a best friend.
“They promised me it’s on the up and up,” Diana said then took a sip of her vodka and cranberry juice cocktail. “I said I wouldn’t take any money from them, but they could pay for the gas.” Marianne made a face. Diana was chronically short of money, and Marianne knew it. “I suppose that’s sort of like blasphemy to turn down money, but I didn’t want to feel like a prostitute.”
“I suppose you’re right. Especially if you end up hugging and kissing and doing all sorts of boy-girl stuff like that. Money would have just gotten in the way.”
The mocking, teasing tone in Marianne’s voice made Diana chuckle and reminded her why they were best friends.
“There are two of them, remember? If something’s going to happen, wouldn’t it happen in private? And we’ll be on the river where everyone could see us,” Diana said. She tried to take another sip of her cocktail but discovered that she’d already finished it. “While I admit to being sex deprived, I’m not sex depraved. Besides, I don’t relish the thought of being in a gang bang.”
“It wouldn’t be a gang bang,” Marianne said in a tone that would please any teacher. “With two guys it’s a menage a trois, with three it’s a menage a quatre. You’ve got to be doing the naughty with at least four guys to call it a gang bang.”
Diana suddenly felt utterly naive about things of a sexual nature. “How on earth do you know such things?”
“You’ve got to expand your reading material.”
“So you think it’s okay for me to go out on the river with the two of them?”
Marianne’s brow furrowed as though it was the dumbest question ever uttered. “Of course.”
“Okay. But what should I wear?”
“Oh, this is going to require another round of drinks and some serious consideration. You can’t just go about making these decisions on a whim.”
* * * *
Julie was behind the bar at My Place. She didn’t often get to tend bar, but several colleagues had called in claiming to be sick—a curiously high phenomena all over the world when the weather was nothing short of perfection itself—and Marianne St. Simone, Julie’s new boss because she also happened to be the new owner, said she could bartend. This was good news for Julie because a bartender at the wing joint made more in tips than a waitress and four times more than a hostess. And since Julie tended to spend every penny she made pretty much instantly, and rather often spent more money than she made in total, the chance to earn some extra cash was a pleasant surprise.
She was looking out the window into the parking lot when Julie got her second pleasant surprise of the late afternoon. Except this time it wasn’t one surprise, it was two—and they were both handsome as hell.
Julie watched as Marcus and William got out of a big, black Lexus SUV that obviously was either fresh off the new car lot or nearly so. Both men were in suits and neckties, and both carried clothes with them. Casual clothes, Julie suspected. Those two wouldn’t be the first businessmen from New Orleans to show up at My Place and have to change out of their proper business attire to get some fishing done on the Eau Claire River.
The idea that they’d have to go into the m
en’s bathroom to take off their business clothes immediately presented Julie with some enticing possibilities. And she was just the woman to capitalize on them.
She looked at the customers sitting at the bar. There were three men in their sixties a few barstools down. Since they were dressed in bib overalls, she pegged them as fishermen but definitely not oil rig workers. They were drinking tap beer but doing it slowly. They were regulars without all the extra money that the oilmen had.
Julie turned around then realized there was a full-length mirror behind all the liquor bottles that were stacked up. That definitely wouldn’t do for the grand plan that wasn’t yet fully formed in her mind.
She looked out the window. William and Marcus were hardly twenty feet from the front door. If she was going to act, she had to act now—and she did. Dropping to one knee behind the bar, staying very close to it so that nobody would see, Julie unfastened two more buttons on her white blouse. She now showed the inner swells of both breasts. She adjusted her blouse to show a little more cleavage then stood, pretending to have made some adjustments to the back bar, just as William and Marcus walked through the front door.
“Gentlemen, it’s good to see you again,” she called out then cursed herself silently because she’d never before referred to them so deferentially.
They gave her a smile, but it was a courteous one, not the kind of I’d-like-to-rip-your-clothes-off smile that she would have much preferred. If they wanted to rip her clothes off instead of simply take them off her, she wouldn’t complain.
As long as they turned their sexual attention at her, she was up for anything.
They couldn’t have misread my signals the last time I saw them. I made it clear without actually getting down on my knees and jerking down their zippers that I was up for anything they wanted from me.
“It’s nice to see you men at happy hour,” Julie said as they approached the bar. “You don’t usually show up for anything other than a late lunch after fishing.”
