First Down

by Paula Mabbel

  He paused a second before stepping inside, leaving a discrete trial of musky cologne behind. I followed him into the tiny living room and immediately felt embarrassed for the smell of my humble mac and cheese that permeated the air.

  “Something smells delicious,” he remarked and started for the kitchen. I was stunned by his boldness. “Oh, you’re not, by any chance, making mac and cheese, are you?”

  I nodded.

  “I love comfort food.”

  Should I invite him to stay? I cleared my throat.

  “Would you like some?”

  “I couldn’t impose.”

  “You wouldn’t,” I insisted, unsure of why there were sounds coming out of my mouth when I was sure I had just told my brain to stop talking.

  “Are you sure? Because I would love to have some of your deliciously smelling macaroni.” He even winked.

  I smiled weakly, cursing to myself. He stepped closer to me, a bit too close, and raised the bottle.

  “Where should I put this?”

  His scent went straight to my head and I struggled to reply. “Umm, the counter is fine. Would you... would you like a glass?”

  He chuckled. “Allow me.”

  He seemed to be such a gentleman for a mobster. I walked across the kitchen and took out two stem glasses. He had already magically found a bottle opener and was now ready to serve what looked like Italian wine.

  I watched him gracefully fill the glasses, unable to take my eyes off his slender fingers. I swallowed hard and forced myself to shift focus towards the oven. Dinner was ready.

  “You can wait in the living room. It won’t be a minute,” I suggested.

  “I could help, if you’d like.”

  I narrowed my eyes, trying to figure out his angle. What was he getting at?

  “Pass me the plates, then.”

  He did and I filled them with generous portions of mac and cheese. We set the table together and he brought the glasses to the living room as I was making sure nothing was out of order. “God, I hope he won’t see my bedroom tonight,” I thought, then mentally slapped myself. Why would he see my bedroom?

  We ate in silence, mainly because he watched me with a look in his eyes that sent ripples through my body, making me unable to speak.

  I was grateful when the meal was over. I could, at least, concentrate on doing something instead of bearing his gaze.

  I proceeded to gather the plates and cutlery, still feeling his eyes on me. It made me so uncomfortable, I had to down my wine in one gulp. I chose to ignore the shame that tried to creep up on me, I had enough on my plate as it was.

  “Are you alright?” He startled me when he spoke. I didn’t realize he had gotten so close to me and I dropped the forks. Instinctively, I bent to pick them up, move that sent my ass against his crotch.

  The touch shocked me and I tried to stand. I ended up hitting my head on the edge of the table and losing my balance. He caught me in time and I found myself in his arms, staring at his defined lips.

  When he parted them lustfully, I knew what was to come but I couldn’t pull back. He kissed me and I let him. I savored him for as long as he let me, before he ended the moment.

  He let go of me and I stepped back, realizing what had just happened.

  “Oh, My God,” I whispered, covering my mouth; his taste still lingered on my lips.

  “I’m sorry,” he apologized, looking away. “I shouldn’t have…”

  My body wanted him like I had never wanted anyone before and it was a struggle for me not to wrap my arms around him. He looked up to check if I was alright and saw what my eyes were saying. He responded to my unspoken invitation, I didn’t even have time to think before he grabbed me and taking possession of my mouth once again.

  I melted in his arms, responding to his every touch and soon I knew I had to have him.

  We stumbled towards my bedroom and I fell onto the bed. He let me go and hurried to get rid of his jacket and shirt, throwing them on top of the other clothes that were already scattered on the floor. I started to pull my tank top off, but he took over.

  He kissed every inch of my skin as he undressed me and I felt the need growing inside me. By the time he got to my leggings, I wanted him with all my being.

  “Oh, for goodness’ sake,” I murmured and went for his belt.

  “God, I want you. I. Want. You, Lydia,” he said, watching me as I trailed my fingers over his perfect skin. I looked up from where I was sitting. He planted a kiss on my lips before pulling me further onto the bed.

  He laid on top of me, grinding his erection between my legs.

  “God, you’re so wet,” he groaned in my ear and I shivered.

  I trailed my hands up his back, to his thick hair, and lifted my hips, ready for him. He shared my hunger, he wanted me as much as I wanted him.

  I felt his hand go between us to adjust his cock at my entrance and gasped when he pushed inside.

  “Fuck…” was all he could manage as he started moving. My body was already quivering in anticipation.

  “Oh, Aldo,” I whispered and he kissed my lips like he wanted to drink my desire, to share into my pleasure.

  His muscles contracted in sync with my body, as he fucked me slowly, making sure I got every last inch of him. I moved my hips against his, I wanted more.

  And he gave me more. He moved faster, hitting my core in ways that set fireworks alight and I soon found myself on the brink of cumming.

  “Oh, God, yes!” I signaled my climax; he thrusted deeper, watching my face as I neared blissful release. I had never orgasmed so fast before.

  “Cum for me, baby,” he demanded and I bit my lip to suppress a scream.

  He caressed my body with the tips of his fingers as I stiffened underneath him, my orgasm coming in powerful waves over me.

  I felt him thrust one more time, hard, before he came too, his body covering mine, his lips whispering mingled words of lust into my ear.

  *****

  The next few weeks of my life had passed like a dream. I couldn’t believe the happiness I had been gifted with.

  Aldo had visited me as often as his obligations had allowed and we had spent many a night of passion.

  He liked to watch me cook, his eyes lighting up whenever I asked him to taste the food, like wanted to be involved in every small thing I did. I had grown accustomed to finding him home on some nights, either watching TV or napping like a child.

  I loved the way we had become a couple. Neither of us had ever said anything about our future, we didn’t need to. It was all there, in the way we embraced and kissed, in the way he made me his, in the way we shared our moments of laughter, a stolen glance or the pleasure of just being together.

  It felt right.

  I did, however, noticed something was tainting his joy. His smile had become smaller, his eyes had lost some of their spark and he suddenly needed to hold me longer in his arms.

  One night, after we had dinner, I wrapped my arms around him as he stood in front of the window, and asked:

  “What is it, baby?”

  “What is what?”

  “You seem upset lately. Did something happen?”

  He turned to me, a smile on his face that I could see he faked.

  “No, my love. Everything is in order. I love you, that’s all.”

  “You what?” I asked and pulled away.

  What he had just said?

  He seemed to be taken aback by my reaction. I looked into his eyes to make sure he told the truth.

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have just sprung it on you like that,” he retracted.

  “No,” I wouldn’t have it. “You sprung it just the right way. I just never thought you felt this way too.”

  “Too?”

  I nodded, tears prickling my eyes. “What?” he pressed, a grin starting to form on his lips.

  “I love you too,” I mumbled, too emotional to speak clearly.

  “Oh, my love.” He lifted me in his arms and pinned m
e against the wall. “I love you so much. I don’t deserve you, but I can’t help it. I just love you.”

  “What do you mean you don’t deserve me?”

  My words seemed to have brought him to reality. He pulled back.

  I understood it was a subject he wasn't comfortable disclosing yet. It hurt, but I wanted to give him the space he needed, I wanted him to trust me. When he tried to pull farther away, I held onto his arms and looked him in the eyes, trying to share the warmth I had to give.

  “What does ‘Aldo’ mean?” I asked, changing the subject.

  He looked surprised and grateful for my decision.

  “It’s just a name. It comes from -”

  “Aldobrandino,” I remembered.

  “Yeah. It means ‘little old sword’. Do you know Italian?”

  I giggled but his phone rang before I could answer.

  “Pronto,” he said, frowning. “What is it, Matteo?”

  I took a few steps back, looking for something to do so it wouldn’t seem like I was snooping.

  “I can’t talk right now,” I heard him say between gritted teeth. “He what?”

  His expression turned serious and I couldn't look away. Something wrong seemed to have happened.

  “Cavolo!” he cursed, stealing a glance at me. I looked away. “Look, I can't talk right now. Tell The Spider we need his services again. I’ll call you.”

  He hung up and I tried to look busy fumbling through a stack of old magazines.

  “I’m sorry, love.”

  “It’s no problem. You could’ve talked, I was just about to… make some coffee.” I didn't want him to put his business on hold, especially when it looked to be this important.

  “No, it’s alright. I’m sorry you had to hear that… sort of conversation.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I didn’t mean it like you were listening in. It’s just not something everyone can stomach.”

  “Baby, I grew up in the hood. You have no idea what I can stomach,” I replied, my fists defensively balled to my sides.

  His eyes widened. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were a tough girl.”

  He seemed amused, that familiar glint of mischief back in his eyes. His expression made me laugh.

  “You never assumed?”

  “What? That because you’re black, you had to have lived in the hood?”

  When he put it like that, it did sound silly. I looked down, embarrassed for misjudging him.

  “I thought that, you know, with your… friends’ predisposition to…” I tried to explain myself.

  “You mean their racism?”

  I nodded.

  “Would I have loved you this much if I was a racist, my love?”

  Something in his tone made me look at him. That sadness was back.

  “What is it?” I asked again.

  He tried to look away but I caught his face between my palms and forced his eyes back to me.

  “Tell me, baby,” I encouraged him.

  “It’s nothing that you should concern yourself with,” he attempted to elude the question.

  “If it makes you feel like this, it concerns me very much. Please, let me in, baby.”

  I could see the struggle in his head. He seemed torn between keeping some bad news from me or lifting a weight off his chest. I chose for him:

  “Tell me. You have to tell me if you say you love me.”

  He grabbed my wrists and freed his face. “You won't like it, my love.”

  “You don’t either. Why should I?”

  He kissed me before confessing what I had already known.

  “We cannot be seen together, my love.”

  I nodded. “I knew as much.”

  “You did?”

  “Like I said, I have seen your friends’ attitude towards me. Is that what was bothering you?”

  “Yes,” he admitted. “But it’s not all.”

  “Oh?” I took his hand and pulled him towards the couch. “Come, sit here. Let’s talk about it.”

  He laid on his back, his head on my lap. I massaged his head as he spoke.

  “My mother, she’s worse than all of them. I can deal with them, I’m their boss, but Mamma, she’s something else entirely.”

  I didn’t say anything, leaving him space to think, to find his words.

  “She wants me to get married. She thinks that I am losing face if I remain a single man. You see, we have rules. Unspoken, like a code of conduct. And one of those rules says that a leader needs be an example. The way he leads his own family is the way he’ll lead his other family. Do you understand?”

  “La Famiglia, I know.”

  Where he had kept his eyes closed while he spoke, he opened them now to look at me.

  “You know Italian?”

  I shrugged. “A bit. I studied in Milan for two years.”

  “You did? I didn’t know that.”

  I laughed. “Of course you didn’t. We haven’t had that much time to talk. We’ve been… busy.”

  He grinned. “You’re full of surprises tonight, Miss Knight. Do you have anything else to confess?”

  “Why don’t I show you, Don Galeone?”

  *****

  I had worked a double shift today and I felt exhausted. All I wanted was a warm bath and some ice cream but Aldo had called me while I was still at the hospital, to tell me he had a surprise for me.

  When I got home, I still had two hours until 8:00, the time Aldo had notified me he’d pick me up. His only request was that I wore no panties so I decided I had enough time for a bubble bath.

  I couldn’t stop giggling trying to guess what he had prepared for me. In fact, I sent him a couple of texts, using every tactic I knew to make him spill the beans, but he wouldn’t budge.

  I shook my head, reading his last message, before stepping into the tub.

  “Nope, still not telling you,” he had written.

  I moaned. The water felt so nice against my skin, relaxing my tired body almost instantly.

  I pressed the play button on my iPad and I would’ve blissfully missed our date if it weren’t for Aldo’s call.

  “Are you ready, my love?”

  “What time is it?” I asked, slightly confused.

  “Oh, don’t tell me you fell asleep!”

  “Nope, no, I’m fine. I’m ready. Where are you?” I rose from the tub as I spoke, almost slipping on the wet tiles.

  “On my way to your place. I’ll be there in 10 minutes.”

  “OK. I’ll be waiting!”

  I hang up and raced to the bedroom. Digging through my messy wardrobe, I decided for a neutral combination of black cotton pants and a red blouse I had recently bought. I liked the way it floated around my waist, only short enough to show a little skin whenever I moved.

  I let my hair loose and gasped at the sight. “Oh, Lord!”

  What to solve next, the shoes or the hair?

  I decided for the former and tired on three pairs before settling on some plain black leather pumps. I was on my way back to the mirror, armed with several of my strongest hair ties, to gather my hair into a bun, when I heard the doorbell.

  “Oh, shit.”

  I was frozen in place when he walked in, afraid he might get scared away by my mess of a hair. When I saw his jaw drop, I knew all hope was lost.

  “You look…”

  “I know,” I cringed.

  “Amazing. You’re perfect, my lovely Lydia.”

  “What?”

  “I… I’m speechless. You’re stupendous.”

  “Really?”

  He didn’t say another word, just grabbed me in his arms and kissed me passionately.

  “I hate to break this moment,” he said, pulling back, “but we need to leave.”

  I nodded, still amazed by the fact that he liked the way I looked.

  He held the door for me as we left, and kept his hand on the small of my back until we were outside.

  In the street, a black limousine with coppery
wheels awaited us. I was impressed. He helped me get in and opened a bottle of 1997 Cristal.