by S. W. Frank
He turned left on Grand Army Plaza to Eastern Parkway, passing the Brooklyn Museum, chuckling because he envisioned Tonya and her doctor boyfriend strolling through the halls with the rest of the art nerds. Several blocks later he made a right, another left and double parked outside an immaculate brownstone. No parking. “Shit!”
He called his sister and she didn’t answer. “Alright, how you gonna’ just cut off your brother like this Tonya? Damn, I said I’m sorry, I’ll pay the money back!” he said to the answering machine before he chucked the phone to the passenger seat. Sergio sighed; he missed his baby sister. Growing up they were really close and were able to talk about almost anything. Now, they were estranged and Sergio accepted the blame. After their mom died and the bills started pouring in, he took more risks, lost a lot of money and the whole nine. Desperation can make a man do things.
The insurance money he used for a combination of debts or else he’d have his head knocked in. Bad deals, bad business partners, bad schemes and bad judgment had him so broke; the bums in front of the liquor store probably had better credit. “Ah, man, I need to clean up my life. Look at me. I’m destitute and driving a fancy BMW. ”
He sat straight when he spotted Tonya’s boyfriend walking toward the building. The man had to be his age, give or take a year or two, but he had his shit together. He graduated med school and was in residency at a hospital in Brooklyn. He walked with the confidence of an older man. When he first met Tyree, he subjected him to a thorough interrogation. What he learned was the guy managed to triumph despite adversity and beat every damn obstacle tossed at a black man, Sergio wasn’t as lucky. Their eyes connected. Tyree’s gaze was strong, x-raying the purpose of Sergio’s visit. Undoubtedly, he knew about the sibling rift, living with somebody makes it kind of hard not to hear things.
Sergio noticed Tyree did not approach the car to talk after he rolled down the window. He guessed Tyree didn’t want to come in contact with a thief and a lying sonovabitch!
“Your sister’s not here Sergio.”
“Can you tell her I came by?”
“Didn’t she tell you to stop coming around after what you did?”
“She’s my sis and as long as I’m living I’ll still check in on her.”
Tyree had an over the shoulder computer bag. His fingers slid down the strap near his spring jacket and Sergio noticed he wore scrubs. “Then act like a brother and not a dumb thug!”
“Fuck you man, mind your business.”
“Tonya’s my fiancée, she is my business.”
Sergio blinked. Tonya and Tyree were engaged. His little sister was getting married and she hadn’t mentioned it the last time he called. Wow!
Tyree walked away, jogged up the stairs to the brownstone, unlocked the front door and disappeared inside.
~
Tony watched the patrons from a darkened corner. Saturday nights were always busy. The bouncers did their jobs, letting in the regulars and keeping the riff-raff out. An occasional newbie was allowed through the door. Tonight there was a coming of age introduction for a kid who just turned twenty-one. Two of his friends were semi-regulars who knew the rules. No rowdy shit in here or you all get escorted to the door.
The sultry music reverberated from the walls. The clinking of glasses, people talking, dim lights and laid back atmosphere were strategic to the seduction of men’s money and loins. Nina was late, very late. On stage, in a studded G-string, stilettos and a few props was Naughty-Nice. She slid down from the silver pole headfirst, slowly spreading her legs and she touched the floor, did a back flip over her head and showed the audience her luscious sparkly ass. There were sharp intakes of lustful moans and reactions form the patrons he heard many times before. His eyes watched as some of the guys held their dicks and listened for offensive slurs or anything inappropriate which was grounds to get kicked out.
He leaned his elbows on the table. He never drank on duty. The liquor was ingested when he got home. Tony had to stay sharp. His head turned at the sound of his name. The security guard posted at the employee entrance stood near the aisle and gestured toward the backrooms on the main floor. “Nina’s here. Do you want me to send her to you?”
“Yeah.”
The man was gone and a few minutes later he returned with Nina. Her eyes were glassy. She sniffed and wiped her nose several times in the span of a minute. Tony’s eyes narrowed when she apologized profusely. “Sorry Tony. I’m not feeling too good. I think I’m coming down with a cold or something.”
“Yeah?”
“Um-hum,” she answered. Her speech accelerated as did the twitches of her hand. “I took Nyquil this afternoon and fell asleep and woke up after nine.”
Tony let her talk. The more she spoke and fidgeted, his suspicions were confirmed. Nina had fallen victim to the sordid trappings of an exotic dancer’s life. Tony sent the guard away and then extended his hand for Nina’s bag. She knew the rules. No drugs on the premises. “Give me the pocketbook.”
She didn’t protest. Tony wasn’t the type to fuck around. When she placed the bag in front of him, his fingers searched through the inside pockets and discovered an aspirin bottle which he confiscated and removed the cap. The salicylate drug was nowhere in sight. What he did find was small capsules which he surmised were filled with another drug, not for inflammation or pain reduction but to get high.
“Tony, look, please don’t tell Chip. I’m sorry, I…”
“Shut-up,” he said. Nina was Chip’s headliner. She also warmed his bed whenever the urge struck him and Tony didn’t give a damn what she did as long as it didn’t get done with him around. “Splash some cold water on your face, get your ass ready to go on in an hour. If you fuck up, then I’ll tell Chip about what I found, got me?”
The woman nodded.
Tony shook the bottle. “Get out of here, before I change my mind about letting you perform!”
She scurried to the dressing room and that’s when Tony saw Sergio coming toward the table and wondered why the bouncer let him in. The pill bottle went discreetly in his pocket. He was about to summon one of the bouncers when he observed Caminello and his Capo enter. Caminello’s burgeoning gut poked from the expensive suit and his eyes went straight to the stage. The wide smile forming occurred when Naughty-Nice extended her leg over her head to give a peek of her goodies, accented by diamond stars.
Sergio sauntered over and said, “Hey, what’s up, is Chip here?”
“What do you want with him?”
“I heard he’s giving out jobs and I’m here to interview.”
Tony looked past Sergio’s shoulder as he rose to his feet. Caminello and company were engrossed in the entertainment; otherwise he’d realize the usual greeting by the establishment’s manager had been delayed. “Look, the job offer’s been rescinded, besides it wasn’t for you.”
“I know, but since he’s being charitable,” Sergio continued, “I figured he’d extend some if it my way.”
Tony scoffed at the statement. “You don’t know when to quit do you?”
The act was almost over and Tony shifted in place. He’d given Chip back the five grand and said he hadn’t found Sergio and here the guy was looking to get him in deep shit. Maybe, Mohawk was right and he should’ve kept the money and bounced like Tigger right out of the Hundred-Acre Woods, but he hadn’t, mainly because it wouldn’t have looked good. Besides, he didn’t get around to giving the cigar to anybody to check. Mohawk remained unknown. Until he learned who the fuck Mohawk was, there’s no way he’d take advice from the mystery man.
Caminello suddenly looked around. “Listen, go home and stay away from the club,” he advised before going to welcome his customer.
Sergio decided to get a drink and catch the rest of the show. He’d paid the cover charge. To hell with Tony!
CHAPTER NINE
“Si mama,” Alfonzo said as he tossed back the covers and climbed in bed. He had her on speaker while Selange enjoyed a relaxing bubble bath. He could smell the jasmine scented candles and hear the soft music playing in the background. He thought to join her; however he decided to give her the peace and quiet every mother deserves. Sometimes, alone time rejuvenated the spirit and allowed a woman to appreciate a man who can understand.
“Bruno is flying with me to Puerto Rico in a few days for the fundraiser. I am very excited.”
Alfonzo’s face twisted in irritation at the mention of Bruno’s name. Lately, his mother included Bruno each time they spoke. Bruno this and Bruno that had become a repetitive song. First, religion had overshadowed her life and now it was an arrogant multi-millionaire, Alfonzo still had reservations about. He sneered as she continued. “Do you know hijo; he bought me a very nice SUV?”
“Why mama, I’ve given you a car?”
“Oh, I know, but, this car fits my needs. It’s a SUV and I can put the grandchildren in it and the groceries and it’s very spacious.”
“Why didn’t you tell me you wanted a SUV, mama?”
“Alfonzo, I love the car you gave me. It is…it is…”
“It’s what?” Alfonzo asked feeling a strange pang of jealousy that Bruno had stolen his mother’s affections. The Mercedes he’d bought for her birthday was outfitted with reinforcements for her safety and here she was bragging about an SUV, which was probably some shitty looking minivan.
“It’s too flashy…that is all I mean. I love it and will drive it on special occasions.”
‘Special occasions, what the hell did that mean, hardly ever?’
Alfonzo sucked in his hurt. To hell with it. He’d have Domingo check out this SUV she loved and take it to his guy to add the necessary safety features. He changed the subject. Any talk of Bruno upset his nerves. “I’ll be in New York on Monday, I might stop in.”
“I will have dinner prepared and perhaps you will sit and get to know Bruno. He really is a wonderful man, hijo.”
Alfonzo’s foot jerked, coño, was she capable of refraining from using that motherfucker’s name every other sentence, he wondered? “Mama, can you please stop talking to me about that guy. Before it was religion and now it’s some rich fart consuming the conversation.” He sighed. “Mama I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“My eyes are open hijo. For too long I’ve suffered shame within myself, hungered for absolution of sin, striving to do right in God’s eyes. I am happy at the moment, pardon your madre, my Heavenly Father knows my heart. If I am wrong to love this man, then it is to the Creator I will answer. Do not intervene in an effort to shield me from pain; it is an inevitable malady of life.”
Alfonzo abandoned trying to talk sense to her after that melodramatic comment. They were Diaz’, stubborn and passionate when they loved. “Okay, mama, nice talking to you, I’ll see you soon.”
“Buenos noche Alfonzo, give the children a kiss from Nana and tell your wife hello.”
“Um-hum, adios.” He slapped the screen, opened the top drawer on the nightstand and swept the phone inside and closed the damn thing. His mother was tripping. “He’s trying to buy you…c’mon ma damn. I should kill his ass, have him get into a fatal accident or inject rat poison in his beer…”
“Alfonzo?”
Oh man, busted!
He turned over and saw his wife standing there in this shiny black string type get-up. She looked sexy-naughty. Her outfit was missing material at the nipples and he smirked, certainly the crotch area had the same strategic defect. What caught his attention and narrowing of the eyes in contemplation were the straps in her hands. His eyebrow rose in skepticism. Was she telling him something, did she have an interest in BDSM he didn’t know about?
The role-playing on the honeymoon was fun, lightweight kinkiness but not a drastic lifestyle change. Her smile as she approached held an innocence which he found enduring and conflicted with a subculture she probably knew little about.
Alfonzo slid up when she neared the bed. “Are those for me?”
The sweet smile and a, “Yes," followed.
“Reading books again?”
“Always,” she answered as airy as the interior wind.
He watched her eyes. They were uncertain, those of a novice and he became perturbed. “Babe,” he said flexing forward and taking her hand to stop her before she began whatever experimentation she’d planned and guided her to sit. “Look at me.”
She did and the confusion concerning his reluctance was evident. “What, you’re not interested?”
“Are you?”
The pause was the answer before she said the truth. “I thought you might like it.”
“So you’re doing this for me and not out of your curiosity or a sexual fantasy?”
“Well, I’m not into this stuff, but I heard so much about it.”
He chuckled and shook his head in relief. “Esposa, if you’re not in to something don’t go against who you are and fuck what your heard. I don’t need to be bound, hog-tied or any of that shit to get sexually stimulated…c’mon…I look at you in jeans and my dick sprouts wings. My fetish is you.”
She tossed the straps on the floor. “I just wanted to keep you happy and sexually…”
He finished the sentence. “Fulfilled, is that what you were going to say?”
“Yes.”
Geez, he was flattered that she’d step outside her comfort zone to please him. He was also somewhat saddened she didn’t know he loved her without gimmicks or the requirement of kinky sex to become aroused. She obviously had no idea about the hardcore side of BDSM. The term incorporated the crossover communities of Bondage and Discipline, Dominance and Submission, Sadism and Masochism. She hadn’t experienced the depths of any of these practices which at times got fucking deep. He’d seen enough to know, whatever she read in a book or researched on-line was an introductory course to pique the interest of likeminded individuals. It’s also a subculture where the unskilled or unenlightened could easily misconstrue passion for aggression and someone could get seriously hurt. Yes, trust in a partner is necessary, however, there exists people whose perversions are not evident until they switch and take on a Dominant role. Who knows the truth of what lies in any person’s mind? Making love shouldn’t be risky or dangerous, shit, he had enough of that outside of his home and didn’t need it in his bed.
He took her hand and placed it on his muscularly carved and tatted chest, the side where his heart pounded and pressed her palm inward for her to feel the timbre. She stared in his eyes and his words were clarification of what sparked his desire.
Her.
Love.
Alfonzo leaned close, his breath a mixture of heat and aged wine. The tone of his voice was deep and forceful, not to seduce, but to hammer home, their relationship wasn’t defined by what others did. Their relationship consisted of mutual respect, in and out of the bedroom. They were not BDSM people whose sexual enjoyment stemmed from perversions, nor did they need to imitate anyone else. There’s nothing shameful in admitting they had their own belief system and it was simply to make love. “No toe cuffs, cords or any of that is needed to get me fired up. I’ll never subject you to anything which takes you out of your comfort zone. You’re my wife and I’ll always worship your mind and body. I won’t misuse any part of you babe because you’re my rib and it’ll be comparable to injuring me. I deal with viciousness outside these walls, and the whole BDSM isn’t what I want. We shouldn’t need safe words when making love, comprende?”
“Yes.”
His hands slipped down her wrist and moved to the nipple peering at him from the opening of the flimsy garment slightly larger than suspenders. His finge
r circled the bud and it instantly hardened. Her lips parted when he lowered his head to suckle the place he’d touched. She said his name when his hand spread her thighs to explore whether his suspicions were correct about the garment’s crotch –it was confirmed the moment his fingers touched her wet lips and inserted inside.
“Um,” she moaned, unaware his desire peeked the second she emerged in the outfit.
He pressed her to the bed, loving the way she gripped his head trying to pull him closer but he wasn’t finished with the exploratory expedition and stroked her clitoris several times for effect to display the futility of props. His fingers were removed and he spread her legs wider to orally taste the honey oozing from her open hive. His tongue lathed the corners of her lips, titillating and teasing with the tip. When his mouth connected with her feminine flesh, he made a seal to give her an oral French kiss.
“Ummmm,” she whined, flowing and thrusting to his mouth.
Her jasmine flavored skin and the fingers massaging his scalp were sensory overload. Damn, he couldn’t hold his need much longer and with one hand yanked down his shorts. He kicked them off in haste, sucked her hard before detaching his mouth and climbed upon the bed, and then palmed her knees with enough pressure to render her still to penetrate the crotchless garment, taking pleasure in the grunts stemming from her throat.
Every flaming stroke of his dick was a testament to his want of her. Each ripple and quake in response was of a woman in receipt of her husband’s love. He did not restrain her when she raised her torso, using his solid shoulders as an anchor. Nor, did he censure her mouth as she sucked hard on his neck in a passionate response. His palms were on the bed as she held on, pivoting and rolling her hips just as eagerly in carnal hunger. They fed one another, unleashed, unbound and unrestrained.