by Tina Little
I’m shaking. I thank him. Not very nicely. His eyes are sad.
Before he leaves, I ask, “Are you going around to everybody and telling them this?”
“Jamie…”
“You’re not.” Like a cold bath, the shock washes over me. “It’s just me.”
Massimo spreads his hands. He pulls his upper shoulders. Presses his lips together. His face is red.
Why, Massimo?” I’m crashed. “Why me, Massimo?”
“It’s the competition. Like I said.”
“What competition?”
“The shop front on the corner. The other side of the crossroads? You see it’s being renovated?”
I shake my head.
Massimo says, “One of the chains. Moving in on the corner.”
“But the chains all supply their own coffee. That’s how their business models work.”
“They’re taking coffee from us. At least for the first year.”
“On condition that all the smaller shops pay three months in advance?”
“Yeah.” He looks down. “Some of them.”
After Massimo leaves, I sit on a stool behind the counter. I call Summer. I feel like I’ve been drained out.
“Summer, I’m gutted.”
“How can you survive that?” Summer’s voice is quiet and low. I know she must be thinking about all the cakes that I buy from her. This is bad news for both of us.
“I’ve worked so hard for this, Summer. I’ve put everything into this little coffee shop. I know what the business from here means to you, too, Summer.”
“I know how hard you worked, Jamie. Try another coffee supplier, maybe?“ Summer suggests.
“At this short notice? Anyway Massimo’s roasters are the best. I did taste trials with about fifty potential customers. More than forty of them chose Massimo’s coffee.” There’s only one way I can see, but I don’t want to do it. “I’ve maxed all my credit, there’s nothing I can sell. I don’t have anything but my body. I wouldn’t get much for that.”
Summer laughs. “You sell yourself short, girl. Plenty of people would pay a lot for those curves. I’m not suggesting it as an option. I really am just saying, don’t be down on yourself about that.”
Well, at least we both manage to laugh about it. For a moment or two, anyway.
“No, Summer. There’s only one way I can see.”
There’s a hollow silence on the other end. I hear Summer gulp.
“What choice do I have?” I ask her. “I don’t have another line of credit anywhere.”
“You need to think hard about it, girl. You go that way, it’s a choice you don’t get to unmake. You go into business with someone like him, it’s for keeps.”
Chapter 8
Jamie
I’m chewing the inside of my cheek. Already the sound of his voice on the phone is washing down through my body like a hot waterfall.
“Jamie. Good to hear from you.”
His voice conjures up a picture in my mind. The picture has the smoky gleam of his eyes on one end. On the other end is the massive bulge in his pants.
I feel his eyes like I felt them wander over my body. I feel him studying me. Looking at me that way he’d look at steak. Or a tiramisu.
“Angelo, I need your help.”
“Hell, I knew you would fucking call me. We’ve got a connection. You and me? There’s something there.” There’s bravado in his voice. Like he feels the spot that I’m in and he’s keeping it light. Yeah, Jamie, I tell myself, He’s the mobster with a heart.
Now I don’t want to tell him. I didn’t want to tell him in the first place. I didn’t want to make this call. But now, now he’s talking about him and me, even joking, and I’m just calling to ask him for money. I never felt so cheap in my life.
“Angelo, you said that you could help.”
“Jamie, I’m telling you, I want to help you in every way that I can.” He’s in a crowded room with music. A bar maybe. I hear him stand, “One way in particular. I want to help you reach a cascade of devastating orgasms. I want to help you make babies by the dozen.”
It’s almost too much to bear. I shut off my mind, not daring to think about whether I want those things or not. I can’t think about that now.
He’s walking as he talks. “Tell me when you need me to come around so I can give you what you’re obviously dying for.”
“Angelo. I need money.”
There’s a sound on the other end of the line. He’s laughing. I’m begging him for money and he’s laughing at me.
Maybe it would be better if I just jump off a bridge. I don’t think I can bear this.
“Jamie?”
“Yes, Angelo?”
“Just hold on one minute, can you?”
He’s laughing again. There’s someone with him. “Okay, sugar, I promise, whatever you need. Why don’t I come see you, tomorrow. Morning. I’m not great for the first thing, crack of dawn style, get me. But later in the morning.”
“Angelo, I need money. I need it today. In the next hour or so.”
“It can’t be that urgent, sweet lips.”
“Angelo, please. Stop being such an asshole. I wouldn’t call you if I wasn’t in serious trouble.”
“Oh! You hurt my feelings. That’s the only reason you call me?”
I’m trying to hold it together, but he is really starting to make me mad. “Jamie, wait up, okay? Just one second.”
“Angelo, I said it was business. Can you be businesslike for two seconds?” I realize my voice is rising in pitch. I can hear the panic. I can see my business slipping right out of my fingers. I have probably three hours to save it from going under. If I don’t have that money by the time Massimo comes back, I might as well not even think about opening up tomorrow.
“No, wait, okay?” The sound changes, like he’s moved into a different room. I hear a door close.
Summer is right, of course. I shouldn’t even be thinking about doing business with this guy who is really a mobster. Plain and simple. A real, bona-fide, crime family.
“Jamie, okay, listen to me.” His voice is softer. Serious now. Reassuring. “I couldn’t really talk. I moved into another room. Tell me what you need.”
I tell him.
His voice lowers and flattens. His business manner sends a chill through me. “You know that borrowing from me is going to be more expensive than getting it anywhere else. You understand that, right?”
“There’s nowhere else I can go, Angelo.”
“That’s how it is. Jamie, I’m going to lay it out for you so you understand. Okay?”
Chapter 9
Jamie
That swagger in his hip, that look in his eye, he’s got more energy than most men half his age. He radiates it. As he steps into the coffee bar the air crackles with energy. The man is a walking powerplant.
His eyes register when I tell him that I want to borrow more. He’s not only thinking about the math, it isn’t just the business. He is thinking about what it means for me. I know he is. How do I know?
When I said, ‘how about I take a little more,’ for a moment there, I think he was thinking about the double meaning. Yeah, and maybe I was, too. But as soon as I said it, his eyes flicked around the coffee shop. He looked at the espresso machine. The chiller cabinets. He was thinking about how I was going to handle the debt.
And I’m thinking about that too. My idea, it only just occurred to me. Borrow more, but use it as a cushion. Hold it to lighten the load of the repayments. Of course, it would be tempting to just run out and blow it. Being in a financial corner, makes you want to blow off steam. that’s how pressure is.
But I’m just thinking down the line. And I’m very carefully not thinking about the burden that he could be, if he were lying on top of me. With his load, pressured up, ready for delivery.
It’s hard to spend a moment with him without thinking about it. And I shouldn’t be. Not only because he’s too old, but also because I’m getting into business
with a mobster.
I’m opening myself up to the boss of one of the most notorious crime families in this city. And while I should be thinking about the finance, about spreading the load, all I can think about is spreading under him.
How can it be? I never have more than the lightest flicker of attraction for a man. The guys that come into the coffee shop, lots of them are great guys. Some of them are even great guys who are hot and great-looking. But I never think for more than a moment about anything more. Okay, don’t get me wrong. I do think about it. For a moment. But really, that’s all.
Being within a few feet of Angelo, it’s like I’ve gone through the looking glass. It’s full reverse. It’s almost impossible to think about anything except how it could feel to grip his bones hard in my thighs. To plunge my fingers down the front of his pants. To have him haul out his cock and shove it in my mouth. Between my tits. Into my aching, wet pussy.
Thinking about it is making me squirm.
His eyes hold onto mine, and bright, hot cascades of tingle spread down the insides of my thighs. My knees feel like they’re about to give out.
The worst of it is, I know I need to keep a straight business head on. But I also know, given half the chance, I would jump and climb his bones in a heartbeat. I would knock him to the ground right now. Rip the buttons off his beautiful shirt and sink my teeth into the hard ripples of his abs. Sit on him, pin him down while I bounce on him, hard. Until he pins me and nails me.
Must. Not. Fuck. The. Mobster.
I should write it on a card to remind myself.
Chapter 10
Angelo
The little coffee shop has obviously been busy. She’s got her two helpers there. They’re busy clearing up, bussing trays into the kitchen out back. It’s a good sign. Jamie’s got the beginnings of a good little business here. She takes me to a table in the corner, farthest from the window. We sit in old, stuffed armchairs.
“Don’t want to be seen having coffee with the mobster?” I’m jerking her chain.
She says, “Mobsters don’t like to sit near windows though, right? In case a crew comes by to machine gun them?” Her face is deadpan. “ “The windows were expensive. I can’t afford to have them shot up.”
I pass her an envelope with the money in. As she takes it, she says, “I’ve been thinking about this. Can you make the loan fifty percent more?”
“I can. Of course I can, Jamie.”
“With the same terms?”
“Yes. But you’ve got to understand–”
“I understand. What I intend to do is to keep most of the extra part back. Use it to help cushion me for the repayments. Hold it for as long as I can, only use it when I have a bad week or an unexpected bill.”
“Seems smart,” I tell her. “I’ve known people do that and make it work. Most of them are mob guys, though.”
“Because an awful lot of the people who take your loans do it because they’re desperate, and they don’t think it through.”
“That’s right. So you said ‘most.’ What do you plan to do with the rest?”
“Marketing. Spread the word. Raise the takings. I’ve got competition coming. I need to be ready.”
“You’re really something.” I stretch a hand across the table. She pulls back. Sits up in her chair.
“I need to be clear about something, Angelo.” She looks me straight in the eye and I have such a boner I expect to hear it knock on the underside of the table. She tells me, “This is business. I think we both stirred up some feelings.” A tiny crack comes in her voice, “I’ve worked hard for this, Angelo, and I’ll need to work hard some more. I can’t have anything getting in the way.”
My hand is still out on the table, “I like that, Jamie. I admire your grit. I think you’re the woman for me. You won’t have to worry about your business. I’ll take care of you.”
“Then I’d be the mobster’s girl. A moll, do you still call them that?” Before I can answer she says, “Look, don’t think that isn’t exciting. I even love the sound of it. Just saying that. It’s a thrill. But it’s not for me. The idea of a man who’ll walk through a hail of bullets for me, yeah. I like that. But the reality? I’m not taking those risks, Angelo.”
Every word she says makes me want her more Makes me know that I need her. I have to have her. I don’t know how I’m going to do it, but I have to make her mine. Forever.
“Okay. I understand,” I tell her. “I’ll have to see you later with the rest of the money,” I take out my phone. “I’m sending you my address. Can you be there at nine?”
Chapter 11
Angelo
My home is a perfect movie-star pad and it looks at its romantic and seductive best on a winter evening. The moon hangs fat and low over the hills out back. Wind stirs the bushes and the lights in the pool make it shimmer.
I have red wine open, perfectly aired in a crystal decanter. Soft music and low lights, all cued up and ready. Some tasty nibbles, all set out on the table, in the soft light by the patio doors. Vines hang from the pergola outside, spotlit and framing the pool.
She arrives, still in her work clothes. I guess she’s telling me how it’s meant to be. She wants to get straight to business.
“What’s the hurry? You had a long enough day. I’m here to make all your problems go away. Did you get straight with your supplier?”
“I did.”
“So. Relax a moment. Have a glass of wine.” I at least manage to steer her to the table. I pour wine into two big goblet glasses. Just an inch and a half in the bottom of the glass. It looks so good, she softens. A little. She raises a glass and says, “Thank you.”
“To good business,” I toast. She takes a sip. It’s a fantastic Barolo. I know she’s going to love it. She does savor the taste before she puts the glass down.
“Are you going to make me beg for the money?”
“I am going to make you beg. But, no, not for the money. I wouldn’t do that to you.”
“What, then? What will you make me beg for?”
“You’ll have to beg me to let you call me ‘Daddy.’ You’ll have to beg me to spank you, because you’ve been bad. Then, you’ll have to beg me to fuck your little brains out.”
She sighs. “None of that is going to happen.” She does smile, though. I wonder if she can feel how serious I am. The spark in her eye makes me think she feels it. She presses her lips together as she shifts her weight.
I tell her, “No rush. The money’s in that envelope, out by the pool,” I draw her to the window. “Take it whenever you like.”
“I can go out and take it? Right now?”
“Of course.”
She looks at me a moment before she steps out to the side of the pool. I follow her. The envelope is on the edge of the pool, by the couch and the table. As she stoops to pick up the envelope and slip it into her pocket, she pauses. The patio is heated. It brings up the scent of lavender on the air.
She looks up to me. “I do want you to fuck me, Angelo.”
“I know.” I don’t move. I stand over her, holding my wineglass.
“I came here determined not to let that happen.” I can’t help smiling at that.
“Yeh. I know that, too.”
“But I do want it.” She stands. Close. I don’t move. She comes nearer.
“Are you really going to make me beg?”
“Yes.”
“Angelo, I want it. I want it really bad.” She leans up against me. Stretches up. Holds the back of my head to plant a kiss. I kiss her back, but I’m determined to restrain myself. That works. For about two seconds. I put the glass on a ledge, then I’m holding her. Pulling her to me. Kissing her. My tongue all over hers. Her body writhes and presses as she squeezes against me.
She breaks away, moving back a fraction of an inch. I feel her lips still almost touching mine as she says, “I want you to fuck me, Angelo.”
“I know.”
“Fuck me, you fucker.” She kisses me again. With for
ce. “Fuck me!”
I feel an evil grin spread over my face as I tell her, “You know you’ve been bad.”
“I do. I’ve been bad.”
“Have you?” The light in her eyes is setting me on fire. My cock is so hard right now, it’s huge. My hands and my chest tingle. My pulse hammers. I only thought the begging and ‘Call me Daddy’ thing as a bit of extra spice. A game for some added fun. But I can tell she’s as hot for it as I am. I hit a button.