by Mia Madison
11
Valencia
“You did a fantastic job today, honey. Feel free to order whatever you want. I’ve got a bunch of menus upstairs on the counter,” Dad said. “I’ve got to go over some paperwork before I make my way up.”
I grabbed my purse. He didn’t have to tell me twice.
“Italian good?”
“Yes.” He groaned and patted his tummy. “Make sure it’s authentic.”
I could barely hold myself together for the five minutes it took to walk from the office to the penthouse.
Dad working late in the office was another blessing. It’d be nothing less than awkward for either of us if he happened to hear the sounds I made fucking the tension out of my pussy.
Tension created from his best friend and military brother, no less.
I tossed my purse and keys onto the kitchen island and scampered into my bedroom. My feet were dying to be freed from their ankle boots, but not as badly as the knot in my pussy screamed for attention.
I pulled the Melissa McCarthy pencil skirt up to my hips, and grabbed my pillow from the side of the bed. I had a special pillow I used for times like this, times where I was too horny to control myself and needed a hard nut. It was silent but deadly because I could have the best orgasm in the world, but you wouldn’t know because pillows didn’t vibrate or make noise.
Rolling it like a joint, I bent it midway to form the firm nub needed for erotic release. Holding it in place, I seamlessly wrapped my legs around it and lowered myself enough to make contact with my clit.
“Ooooh fuck!” I moaned. Moving my hips back and forth, I imagined myself riding Gio’s cock, which just had to be thick and meaty, and his face. The coarse stubble of his beard alone could bristle against my pussy and force me to cum before I was ready. Men with the perfect chin stubble could to that.
In my mind’s eye, Gio gripped my curvy thighs as he feasted on my shaven pussy, sliding his tongue up and down my cuntslit as he engulfed himself in my heady aroma.
He spoke to me in English and in Italian, something that turned me on greatly. Unfortunately, that didn’t happen often. Most guys didn’t know how to speak to a woman in bed, much less speak Italian.
It didn’t take long to gyrate and maneuver myself to climax. The sweet release sent my legs shaking and quaking. With a satisfied sigh, I collapsed with my pussy just to the side of my makeshift orgasm device, trapped between my legs.
Delivery arrived right before Dad came home. We shared bucatini and meatballs from Pie Tap. Dad loved a glass of wine, and there was a special, so I ordered that as well.
“I forgot how good this place is,” I confessed.
“You forgot how good Dallas is, period.” Daddy made a teasing face as we ate. “It’s not so bad here.”
“I know,” I replied. “It’s just that I really wanted to stay in Houston. I’d gotten used to being out there. And I also didn’t want to go through the hassle of moving all my things back.”
“Speaking of, we’ll get your things out of storage this…”
He coughed, a couple of times, and then started breathing heavy. The labored breaths were uncharacteristic.
“Dad, are you okay?”
He held his hand to his chest, and put down his fork to hold up the other hand and signal to give him a moment. I observed, curious and concerned, because I’d never seen this happen.
As soon as I was ready to call 911 - it was seriously that bad - he took a deep inhale.
“Okay, sweetheart. What were you saying?”
“Not me, dad.” I looked at him, in disbelief he was so nonchalant. “You were talking. What happened? What was that?”
“Honey, it’s nothing,” he dismissed. “Just a little chest pain. It happens from time to time. It’s just part of getting old.”
“Dad you’re only 52. You look better than I’ve ever seen you,” I replied. “But that’s not normal. Have you been to the doctor?”
“Yes. He says exactly that. That I look better than ever.” He pointed toward my noodles. “You’d better eat, honey. You barely have any food on your plate.”
I didn’t like the way he shifted the conversation, removing the focus from him, but I accepted it at the moment.
“I’m watching my intake.”
“Nonsense.” He looked me in the eye, fury in his expression. “You’re Italian, Valencia. Curves are inherent in your blood. We are a proud, healthy people who love proud, healthy women with curves.”
“Your mother had curves,” he insisted.
“Yes, but mom also worked out. She had a trainer, and she watched her figure.” I neglected to mention the laser lipo she’d snuck off to have while Dad was in the office, or her hidden stash of weight loss shakes.
He placed his hand on mine.
“Valencia Lilit Valenti. Look at me.”
I put the fork down. Daddy always meant business when he used my full name.
“I understand you want to keep yourself in shape, the way American women do. But you see, even American women realize thicker sizes are healthy. They say the average woman is what - a 16 or 18? You’re wearing a 12.”
I gasped. “Dad, are you snooping?”
He blinked. “No. You left clothes in the washing machine.”
“Oh.” My face blushed with embarrassment.
“My point, sweetheart, is that you deserve to enjoy your youthful beauty and metabolism. I don’t want you eating like a bird while you’re here. If you want to maintain your figure, then we’ll work out. You and I will go to the gym. But you will not starve yourself to be unrealistic.”
Daddy’s scolding was gentle yet heartwarming. I felt like a little girl on the receiving end of his words, which were more loving and supportive than triggering. My friends had parents who commented on the tiniest of weight fluctuations, and here I was being praised for my shape.
“See, that’s why you need to be here.” He continued eating. “To be reminded that you’re special. You’re a Valenti. Valenti women have natural beauty and curves, not that skinny minny stuff you see on TV.”
I groaned as I resumed my meal. “Oh, Dad.”
12
Gio
Thursday evening, Vit and I were in the office, going over some plans for a new acquisition. The building was in Frisco, about forty minutes north of Dallas. The area was expanding rapidly due to plenty of corporate relocation. Companies including Toyota were making their way to Texas in honor of cheaper costs of living, and no state taxes. In an era of fiscal uncertainty, North Texas was in an economic boom.
“Who’s going to manage this project?” I asked. “The building is over 20 years old. It needs extensive remodeling to be up to speed with modern expectations.”
“Figueras has a referral we can use. A team of Mexicans - largely undocumented, but highly skilled - who are able to take this on.”
“So we’re going to skimp on the expenses to get this done?”
“No, not at all.” Vit looked at me and pointed a finger. “I don’t personally understand how frustrating it can be to make money when you’re undocumented. However, I know what it’s like to sacrifice your life and comfort to create new opportunities in a strange new land that’s full of opportunities.”
Vit had a big heart. A big, compassionate, sappy heart, I tell you. If there were anyone who could see past social lines, it was him.
“My goal isn’t to exploit them,” he said. “I just want to give them a hand. Besides, our regular guys are already full with work on current projects.” He raised his hands and shrugged, as if to say, Who else we got?
I nodded. “You teach me something new, every time Vit.”
Changing the subject, he asked. “How’s things with my niece?”
“Riley’s good. It’s her mother that’s the problem.”
“Why? What’s going on?”
“Riley’s got a recital coming up. It’s about a month away. She asks me everyday if her mother is coming. I don’t know if she is.”
&nb
sp; “Is she still out there finding herself?” The disapproval was obvious in his tone.
“Yeah.”
My soul felt flattened at the admission. Initially I missed my wife, blamed myself for being too busy. But over time I realized, it was never me. I always knew where I stood, and I always made the extra effort.
She just decided being a wife and mother wasn’t for her.
“Hm.”
Vit’s tone was contemplative, and calculating, all at once.
“What are you thinking about?” I cocked my eyebrow.
“Perhaps it’s time for you to seek a new wife?”
I scoffed and leaned my head in my hands. I should have known. “Nooooo. We’re not having that discussion again.”
Vit believed, very deeply, in family. He felt nothing on Earth besides God himself was ever more important than family.
I agreed with him. I knew the importance of love and family. But I couldn’t change the fact that my wife hadn’t shared the same feelings.
Or that my heart was cordoned off from the idea of being emotionally exposed to another woman, ever again. Riley was all the family I need.
“Riley has a lot of love.”
“Riley needs a mother.” Vit eyed me with the intensity of a cage fighter. “She needs a woman who will show her the ways of love and family, and groom her into the beautiful young lady she is destined to become.”
“Riley has a mother.” Albeit not a very present or active mother, but a mother nonetheless.
“She has a biological mother, yes. But she needs an emotional mother. A woman she can turn to when she goes through things we men cannot understand…” His tone dropped off, letting me know he intended for me to take the hint wherever my mind wandered with it.
“She has teachers at school, aunts, and she’ll get to know Valencia.” My argument was solid.
“If she gets her period in the middle of the night… Do you think those aunts or school teachers are going to help her?”
He had a point, but I shrugged him off.
“Gio, you haven’t been on a date since the divorce.”
“I’m aware.”
“You need to get out there. He who findeth a wife findeth a good thing. You can’t findeth her if you’re not out there looking for her.”
I tossed my head back. “What does this have to do with the building?”
“Nothing. And everything.” He stood to his feet. He did this every time he was getting ready to lecture me. His hands clasped behind his back, like clockwork, as he started his speech.
I closed my eyes and covered my face. Here he went again, giving me the family speech. I had it memorized by heart at this point.
“We work hard for ourselves, but most of all for our families. Our parents have shown us the power of hard work, all in the name of…”
…family, God, and perseverance.
I was waiting for him to finish the line but he didn’t. Maybe he was changing it up, thinking of something new to say?
“Come on, man,” I chided, eyes still closed. “I’m waiting to hear the rest of it.”
Still, more silence.
I opened my eyes. Vit was standing at the window with both hands on the windowsill, gripping tightly. He was stiffer than what seemed normal.
“You okay?”
No answer. He seemed to be staring intently outside. I followed his gaze, yet saw nothing.
“Vit?”
I placed my hand on his shoulder. His eyes bulged as he grabbed his chest. He groaned. Shit.
“Vit!”
His solid form dissolved. I caught him just enough time to prevent him from a hard hit to the ground.
13
Valencia
Urgent bangs on the door, loud enough to be heard from the shower, interrupted my peace. I’d just finished a 30 minute yoga session from YouTube.
“Coming!” I yelled.
BANG BANG BANG!
I grabbed the towel from the shower curtain and headed to the door.
BANG BANG BANG!
Shit. This had better be damn good.
BANG BANG BANG!
“Valencia!?”
My heart dropped when I realized Gio’s voice on the other end of the door. He couldn’t see me like this, wrapped in a towel, but I didn’t really have a choice. He was banging like a madman, and I didn’t have time to run back to the other side of the house and get dressed.
“Coming, I’m coming!”
Swinging the door open, I was surprised to see him. He was wild-eyed and frenetic. “Gio, what’s wrong?”
“Your dad… He collapsed.” His face softened with apology. “I… I didn’t have your number, so I had to wait until he was put in the gurney and stabilized.”
“What happened?!”
He shook his head, eyes fading out of focus as he recalled the events. “We were having a conversation about business. He stood up to look out of the window, and suddenly went stiff, grabbed his chest, and collapsed.”
He gestured as he showed me, “I got him in just enough time to prevent him from hitting the ground.”
My face was frozen as I recalled the dinner we had the other day. When he couldn’t catch his breath.
“Oh my god…” I pulled away from the door. “I have to get dressed.”
“Go ahead,” he nodded. “I’ll take you to the hospital.”
Fifteen minutes later, we were in Gio’s car on the way to the hospital. Gio already had Dad’s effects with him, so we didn’t need to go back to the office for his cell phone, wallet, or keys.
My entire body trembled in the passenger side of his black Mercedes truck. I didn’t have anyone I could talk to or call, except Erika. I shot her a text and let her know what happened, but I couldn’t answer the phone when she called.
I just lacked the stomach for conversation.
Rocking back and forth, I bit my lip and feared the worst. I just replayed the way he clutched his chest at dinner, blaming myself over and over for not saying something to him.
According to WebMD, he had either had a stroke. Or a heart attack. Or suffered the onset of a million other things.
I was in my own world, rocking and trembling so much that I didn’t hear Gio call for me. It wasn’t until the heavy warmth of his hand came down on my shoulder. I yelped and came back to Earth.
“Valencia,” he gently said. “It’s okay. He was conscious when he was taken, just woozy. We’re almost there.”
“It’s not okay.” I insisted on blaming myself. “This is my fault.”
I explained what happened Monday night while we were eating.
“One minute he’s telling me about being a healthy Italian girl who needs to eat, and the next minute he’s clutching his chest and having trouble breathing,” I said. “He waved me off when I asked him. I should have known something was wrong.”
Instead of being angry, or shocked, Gio’s face speckled with amusement.
“Ha,” he said. “He was giving me one of his famous lectures too.” He faded into his thoughts, and turned into the hospital.
Dad was still in the ER when we arrived. He looked ashen, but appeared in good spirits when he saw us.
“Hey sweetheart.”
“Daddy are you okay?” I hugged him with every ounce of strength I had. “What happened?”
“Oh nothing. It happens when you’re old.” He attempted to dismiss his medical emergency, as always, but I couldn’t allow that to happen.
“No, Dad.” I shook my head. “This is almost twice this week.”
“I didn’t collapse the other day. I was just out of breath.”
“Why didn’t you tell me you were having chest pains?” Gio asked. He and I stood next to each other in solidarity, both exuding concern and frustration over the issue. Two episodes in a week is nothing to take lightly.
“It’s happened here and there.” Dad shared that these episodes happened from time to time over the past year, but diminished when he decided to clean up his
lifestyle. Since losing 30 pounds and laying off red meat and bacon, he had felt much better.
“I think, honestly, it’s just stress,” he said. “I just need to relax a little more.”
“Mmm-hm.” I gave him a knowing look. “You won’t really have a choice if this keeps happening.”
14
Valencia
Dad had suffered from a heart attack. He was also diagnosed with high blood pressure. Doctors advised him to remain admitted overnight in order to be monitored.
Once he had been transferred upstairs, Gio and I made our way back to his car. He paid the parking fee, and we exited the lot.
“I’m starving,” he said. “Are you?”
“What time is it?” I looked at my phone. “I didn’t realize it was almost midnight.”
My stomach rumbled.
I also hadn’t realized it had been hours since I’d eaten.
“I suppose that’s a yes?” I could hear Gio’s smirk in his tone.
“I shouldn’t be eating so late.” My protest was an attempt to remain firm to my diet goals, even though my tummy roared for something in it.
Gio patted my shoulder. I felt an extra layer of warmth as his touch sent a delicious tingle through my body.
He’s only comforting you, you horny bitch.
“Let’s get something to eat.
Without waiting for me to ask, he pulled into Buzzbrew’s Kitchen, a 24 hour diner.
“I’ve heard about this place,” I said.
“Now you’ll get to experience it for yourself.” I reached for the door handle, and he stopped me. “Wait a minute.”
He walked around to the side, and opened the door for me. Holding out his hand, he helped me down from the car ledge.
“Thank you.”
“Quite welcome,” he said. “Ladies don’t open doors in my presence.”
“You didn’t open it for me earlier.”
“Well… that was a little different.”
“I know. I’m just teasing.”