by Lily Knight
And then my hand would slip down her silky belly between her thighs, and down over her smoothly-shaven mound, where it would find a hot, wet slit opening with eager readiness for it. And I would slip it inside her, and a shiver of pleasure would run through her body as she gasped and shuddered.
And at this, she would increase the pressure and speed of the strokes she was performing on my member, sending rushes of bliss through my body. And then I imagined lifting her up into the air, where she would keenly spread her legs wide around my hips, and then lowering her onto me, and sliding myself into her until I was hilt deep, feeling her wet tightness enclosing my manhood utterly.
And then I would begin to thrust, slowly at first, bringing her surge after surge of joy, but moving faster and harder, faster and harder with every stroke until we were hammering away and crying out like animals . . .
I shuddered as the orgasm ripped through me . . . And couldn't wait for this fantasy to play out in reality. It would happen . . . I just knew it would.
CHAPTER 10
Bethany
I woke up in the morning feeling absolutely exhausted. I don't think that I had had even two hours of sleep in total. Every little noise had woken me up, and every time I heard a car drive by outside I woke up with my heart pounding, imagining that it was the gangsters coming back to get me and finish off whatever they had been planning on starting earlier.
Thus, at five am, when I dragged myself out of bed, unable to lie there wracked with fear and worry any longer, I sent Manny a text message telling him not to come in today because I would not be opening the diner. I made up an excuse, saying that I was feeling sick.
Surprisingly, soon after I sent the message he called me.
“Miss Verde, what's the matter?” he asked when I picked up the phone. He sounded very concerned.
“Oh, I'm just feeling really under the weather, Manny,” I said. It wasn't exactly a lie; I was feeling awful from the restless night and a total lack of sleep, and I'm sure I sounded really bad on the phone too.
“Do you need to go to the doctor or a hospital?” he asked. “I can take you, if you need to go. Ain't no problem fo' me to come pick you up an' take you if you too sick t' drive.”
“No Manny, I don't think that I need to go to the hospital or the doctor, thanks,” I said. “I really appreciate the offer though. Thank you so much, you're a kind person, you really are.”
“What's wrong wid' you anyway? You got a headache? Stomach pains? Fever?”
“I think it's uh, I think it might be food poisoning actually,” I lied. “I got some seafood last night that didn't seem too fresh.”
“Ooh yeah, bad seafood, that'll put a person down like a shotgun blast to the stomach! Damn. Well what are you gon' tell the customers?”
“I'll just put up a sign saying that we're doing renovations here, and that we're closed for the day,” I said.
“Alright Miss Verde,” he said. “Well I guess I'll just take it easy on this unexpected day off then. Remember though, if you need anythin' anythin' at all, just call ol' Manny here, I'll come right over an' help y'all out.”
“Thanks Manny, enjoy the day.”
I hung up the call and sat and thought about the day ahead. The CM guys would be coming back in the morning to demand the thousand dollars that I “owed” them, and I still didn't have a single cent to give them. I had already burned my bridges – well, what few bridges there had been – with Benito Sciotti, so it wasn't as if I could ask for his help to protect me against the CM guys.
So, what the hell was I gonna do?
I could go to a loan shark and borrow a thousand dollars easily enough, or even go into a bank and get a loan using the diner as collateral. But that would only be putting things off temporarily, and the problem would crop up again in another month, and there was no way in hell I was prepared to keep paying these thugs a thousand dollars a month just so that they wouldn't attack me or my diner.
And then, of course, there was Ben Sciotti. I had already presented him with what I had thought was a reasonable offer, and he had rejected it outright. I had then told him where he could shove his contract, but I knew that things were not over between him and myself. No, they weren't over at all. He wanted me badly, and he wasn't going to give up just because I had told him 'no'.
Also, I couldn't get him off my mind. It was weird – for someone who had put me in the position he had, for someone trying to make the demands of me that he was making, I should have loathed him, I should have been disgusted at the sight of him – but I wasn't. That sixth sense of mine was still telling me that beneath it all, he was a good guy, and that he actually wanted the best for me – even if he was going about it in a pretty selfish way.
In addition, I found myself physically attracted to him in a powerful way. He had a magnetism about him that was hard to resist. Didn’t help that the man was ruggedly handsome and built in a way that I found incredibly attractive. I had always been a suck for big, tall, broad-shouldered guys. And those Mediterranean good looks, with his dark hair and dark eyes . . . Yeah, like I said, it was kinda hard to resist being attracted to a guy like him.
But then, he was a mobster. It wasn't as if this guy, as good as his heart may be beneath it all, was some sort of paragon of virtue here. And while I couldn't really stop myself from being physically attracted to him, I could put the brakes on anything else. The idea of giving in to his crazy demands – going to live with him, as his woman, getting married to him – without even getting to know him in the most superficial way, it was crazy. It really was just a crazy idea. There was no way I could do that, no way at all.
So then, what could I do?
Again, the thought of selling the diner came to mind. A high school acquaintance was a real estate agent who had a reputation for being able to sell properties fast. I'm sure if I got hold of him and told him that I needed to sell the diner and the apartment above it quickly he could find a buyer soon enough. I wouldn't get much for it, and it certainly wouldn't be what it was worth, but I would get something. Enough to start a new life somewhere, doing something different.
This idea, the more I thought about, was becoming more and more attractive a proposition. I could just put all this madness behind me and never look back. Benito Sciotti, the CM gang – they would become nothing but memories, unable to harm me or take anything from me. I could move to California, with its sunshine and warm weather and beaches and music. Or I could go New York City, with its culture and fashion and cosmopolitan atmosphere. Heck, I could go anywhere I wanted, and do anything I wanted!
Except . . . what would I do? I hadn't been able to go to college, so all I had was my high school diploma, and I hadn't exactly been a straight A student, especially not in my senior years when my mother had gotten ill and died. And as for work experience? All I had was this place. Sure, I knew how to run a diner, how to manage the finances of the place and deal with staff and accounts and logistics and all that – it wasn't as if I didn't know anything. The problem was, even though I knew all this stuff, and I knew it really well, I didn’t have a certificate from some institution saying I knew it all. And that—that was the only thing that employers wanted to see.
So, what would I do? What could I do? I didn't know anyone in any other places. I didn't have family in New York, or friends in California. All I knew was this place, Detroit. And to be honest, I didn't really want to leave it. There were a lot of things I disliked about it, but there were also a lot of things that I loved about it. It was home, and I didn't think any other place could replace it.
This left me stuck right back where I had started. I didn't know what to do; I was trapped between a rock and a hard place.
Then I began thinking of Benito again. Maybe . . . just maybe . . . it wouldn't be so bad living with him. Maybe, even though he had said he wouldn't budge on the terms, well, maybe he could be persuaded to just give a little on them. Maybe I could convince him to allow me, at least, the freedom to keep m
y body to myself until such time as I was ready to give it to him. Maybe that would take weeks, maybe months, hell, maybe years . . . But I couldn't just hand myself over to him, mind, body, heart and soul, all at once. Even though there was that physical attraction between us, I couldn't just give all of myself to him just like that.
Well, the clock was ticking. I didn't have much time to think about this, and I really couldn't sit around thinking about it. It seemed that the only two reasonable options (and to call either of them reasonable was a massive stretch of the word) at this point were to either sell the diner and leave Detroit forever, or to capitulate to Benito's demands – as long as he was willing to give a little leeway on them.
I knew I couldn't leave Detroit. I just couldn't. This place was in my heart, in my soul, in my bones. It was home in the truest sense of the word.
So that left me with only one option: Benito.
Well, I guess there was no sense in wasting any more time, now that I had made my choice. I showered and cleaned myself up, put on some makeup and then got out a business suit that I rarely wore; I wanted to make myself look as serious as possible, if just for the slight psychological edge and confidence boost it would give me when negotiating with Benito.
After that I got a big piece of paper, wrote CLOSED TEMPORARILY FOR RENOVATIONS on it, and went and taped it to the windows of the diner storefront. There, everything was all taken care of. Now I just had to go negotiate with Benito.
I drove straight to his gym, and walked up to the front. Jacob, the guy who I had talked to before, was there. He recognized me, and even remembered my name.
“Hey there Bethany, nice to see you again! Have you come to join up, or are you looking for Mr. Sciotti again?”
“Nice to see you too, Jacob,” I replied. “Sorry, I'm not here to sign up for gym just yet. I'm looking for Mr. Sciotti.”
Just then I heard a deep, gravelly voice echo from just inside the gym door.
“Who's looking for Mr. Sciotti?”
“Oh, just this lady here,” said Jacob, leaning inside the door to talk to whoever was on the inside. “Her name is Bethany, she seems real nice.”
He stepped aside, and Tino, the massive bodybuilder guy I'd seen at Ben's strip club stepped out. This time he wasn't wearing a black suit though, now he was dressed in a gym vest and tight shorts, both of which showed off his gargantuan figure, which was slick with a sheen of fresh sweat. There was no doubt this guy was on a steady diet of steroids; he looked like a serious freak. Still, I guess if you're a mobster, having scary looking monsters like this around lets people know not to mess with you.
“Oh, it's you again huh,” he said. “Ben's not here, but I'm guessing you're here to talk to him about the diner and Sal's contract, right?”
“That's right, Tino.”
He nodded.
“I just gotta do two more sets of bench presses, and then I'm done with my morning workout. After that I'll drive you to Ben's house, where you can talk to him. He'll be having breakfast about now. Is that alright?”
I nodded.
“That's fine, thanks.”
“Okay. I'll be back in a few minutes.”
To pass the time while waiting for Tino to finish his sets, I made some conversation with Jacob. Although Benito had already told me Jacob's story, I wanted to hear what he thought about working for Benito, and what he thought of him in general.
“So, Jacob, what's it like having Benito as a boss?”
Jacob chuckled.
“You probably wouldn't believe me if I told you the whole story of how it was that I came for work for Ben, but suffice to say, he almost single-handedly turned my life around. Seriously. If it weren't for Ben, I'd be . . . well, to be bluntly honest, I'd either be in prison or dead. Most likely the latter. Ben was harsh with me, but I needed that kinda toughness to sort me out. And look where it got me today! If you asked me two years ago about where I saw myself being at this time, there's no way I could have seen this: a real job, a car, an apartment, a steady girlfriend, happy and healthy . . . no way at all. And it's all thanks to Ben.”
I nodded.
“That's really impressive. He sounds like a great guy.”
“He really is, Bethany, he really is. Just don't uh, don't get on his bad side though!” he said with a laugh. I could tell, however, that there were some serious undertones beneath that laughter.
Before we could talk any further, though, Tino came out with a sweat-drenched gym towel draped over his massive shoulders.
“Alright, I'll skip showering – unless you feel like waiting another twenty minutes?”
I shook my head.
“I'd rather go now, please.”
“Sure thing. You wanna go in my car or just follow me?”
I could smell him from a few feet away and didn't relish being stuck in the small space of a car with that smell assailing my senses.
“I'll just follow you in my car,” I said.
“Sure, suit yourself,” he said nonchalantly. “Wait out at the front of the lot. I'll be in a black SUV with black tinted windows.”
That rang a bell – he must have been the one who had been parked out front in my street the previous night! That was him! Still, I didn't say anything to him about this. I remembered the fight and the gunfire, and wondered if he had actually been protecting my store from the CM guys.
I said goodbye to Jacob and then went and got into my car, and turned on the motor, preparing to follow Tino. I saw the black SUV coming out from the underground parking, and now I was sure – it was definitely the vehicle that had been parked on my street the night before. Well, all I could do now was go ahead with this plan . . . I let him drive past, and then followed him out onto the street.
LATER THAT DAY
Even as I was packing my things and preparing to move out of this apartment I had spent my whole life in, it didn't seem real to me. None of this seemed real to me at all. I couldn't really believe that I was doing this, that I was packing my life into suitcases to move out and go live with a gangster in his penthouse, as his woman. It all seemed . . . like a dream, really.
Except that it wasn't. It was reality, and this was happening, this was really happening.
“Here's another suitcase to take down to the car, Tino,” I said.
He came over and picked up the fully-loaded suitcase as if it was filled with nothing but air.
“Anything else?” he grunted.
“No, but I'll probably be finished packing this one in about two or three minutes.”
“Alright.”
He tramped down the stairs with the suitcase. As he got to the back door though, I heard him shout out, and I walked closer to the stairwell to listen more clearly to what was happening there.
“Hey! What the hell are you clowns doing back here? You wanna get shot or what?” he yelled.
The sound of a firearm being cocked echoed.
“You're the one who's gonna get capped, you big dumb damn gorilla,” growled a now-familiar voice – Tyrese. “Next time, though. We'll be back, I promise you that. And you can tell yo' boss Benito dat we comin' fo' all you motherfuckers. That bitch up there is mine – an' I'm gon' make her mine, no matter what that fool Sciotti says.”
“Watch your mouth, asshole,” Tino growled, “or I'll grind that mouthy jaw of yours into powder. Now get the hell outta here before I air you out with this .45.”
“We'll be back, fool, we'll be back,” said Tyrese.
After that I heard him and whoever was with him striding angrily away.
When he came back, I couldn't pretend that I hadn't heard what had just happened downstairs.
“What was that?” I asked.
“Those CM punks came around here lookin' for trouble,” he said, his easy tone seeming to indicate that he thought it was no big deal. “I told 'em to get bent, and they left. Don't worry about 'em no more. The Sciotti family is protectin' you now. Those two-bit street thugs can't touch you now.”
&
nbsp; I didn't feel as if it was that straight forward, or if I was as safe as he claimed I was, but I had no choice but to agree.
“That's good to know,” I said.
“You finished packing?” he asked, changing the subject.
“Almost,” I said. “Just need to finish this last suitcase.”
I finished packing, and then that was it. My life was packed into suitcases, and the apartment in which I had spent my entire life up to this point was almost empty.
“Well that's it,” I said as I put the last few things into this suitcase and zipped it up. “That's everything. It's all there.”
“Let me take that. I'll meet you downstairs by the car.”
I handed him the suitcase and he took it downstairs, leaving me alone in the almost-empty apartment. The furniture was still here – I didn't need that where I was going – but everything else that had made this place a home was gone. The photos of my parents, my grandparents, my books and music, my clothes, all the little knickknacks that I had collected over the years, they were packed away and being moved into a place that was, essentially, a palace compared to this.
It was true; the level of opulence in which Benito Sciotti lived was way beyond anything I had experienced in my life. I had gone to a pretty average high school, with mostly middle class or lower middle class students who lived in apartments like mine, or in small houses in the suburbs, or in townhouses. I'd never been into a place like Ben's until today, with its vast spaces, incredibly expensive furniture and décor and almost space age technology.
I had never wanted things like these before anyway, and now I found myself wondering how difficult it was going to be adjusting to living in a place like that, where I was almost too scared to touch anything because of how expensive everything in that place looked. I had always been very comfortable in this little apartment, with all its old, familiar furniture and its homely feel. Now I was moving into a place that was the complete opposite of mine – and would be living with a man who was unlike any man I'd ever been with before.