ATONEMENT (Alfonzo)

by Frank, S. W.

  Nico’s mouth pried open the soft folds of her lips and his tongue entered like a venomous snake fusing with hers, forcing her into a lingual sparring match. She pushed at his shoulders and he rolled over onto his back, gripping her hips letting her ride him. She glided with ease, displaying a feminine athleticism in the art of lovemaking, making him smile as she stroked and squeezed his penis. He let her explore him with her lips and brought heat to his mouth with her tongue.

  The titillating rotations of the small tongue tickled and excited his senses and he took hold of her curved hips and lifted his pelvis into heaven. He felt the insides of her walls, painting them with heavy strokes and her torso bent forward in abject surrender. She quaked but held tight and he rolled again and she was beneath him languid with love. The lust filled eyes were no longer of innocence but of a woman who embraced the fact Nico was her lover and although it was sinful, it brought her immense pleasure.

  The gravitational pull toward Selange was partly due to her goodness, a virtue he did not possess. He wanted to acquire the unobtainable and realized she was the closest he’d get to goodness. He’d take it, even the tiniest piece and claim it as his own.

  She moaned his name, clutched his neck, moving her buttocks back and pumping forward as if she were on a swing. They rocked back and forth, meeting and grinding in a soulful union. Nico grit his teeth trying to hold down a powerful urge to push harder, aware of her delicate condition but somehow this excited him more. Sex with the woman possibly carrying his child was the most pleasurable merger. And yes, Selange brought him such gratification he could no longer deny himself. He dreamed of her for months, thought he’d go mad from the lack of her touch and having her here was the culmination of his every desire. No, he had no apology, whatsoever, this is what he wanted and she’d voiced the same.

  He fed on her body, every inch of her flesh until she screamed to the rafters. His decadent adoration elicited heavy pants from her parted lips as he lifted her from the floor, carried her to the sofa, spread her legs and knelt in worship. She nearly climbed the soft seating under the probing tongue and bent over his dark head, in complete abandonment.

  Nico sparked in her spirit a force she could not repel. Her head flopped backward, he was dragging her forward opening her to him, devouring her flesh, making her climax.

  This dark delicious place he unveiled with a touch of ice and heat left her nowhere to hide. His mouth was brazen and confident in its expedition. His bedroom skills belonged to a man certain of his craft; an unabashed and fine-tuned solicitor of pleasure. Nico was the hidden sex book she read when she was but a naïve virgin; the kind which made her blush and cream her panties from the descriptive sexual acts. –But it’s Nico’s flesh and what he was doing to her body that made the books pale in comparison. He felt too good, her body was no longer her own. He hijacked it from Alfonzo and was taking it on a dangerous voyage. He twist her around, leaned over her spine, the warm air from his breath at her ear as he held her stomach to take what she promised. He fed a ravenous hunger and gave no reprieve, and oddly her carnal needs obliged. She could not deny him and this was her damnation; she understood her sin. She opened her heart and during weak moments he made it strong, then bound himself there and slowly consumed it. There wasn’t a doubt anymore, she needed more now’s with Nico or she’d wilt and die without him.

  His stamina was remarkable and he took her to a place far beyond consciousness, a place so gratifying and full of love she cried. Nico loved her with his soul, it came through and took possession of her mind and body until she relinquished everything to him.

  The words were her undoing, “Nico, I love you…please I need you…so bad…don’t leave…oh…yes…Nico.”

  Nico’s body tensed; his fate was sealed.

  Her waves crested over him like the heat of Egypt’s Red Sea and were met by the tumultuous waters of the Mediterranean. They were swept away by the currents and were far adrift from shore.

  They were the tragedies of Shakespeare; doomed loved sonnets and in each sorrowful tale a lover died. He kissed her, turned her around and lay with her on the sofa. He touched her cheek with the side of his hand, wiping away streaks of tears, thinking how unbelievably beautiful she looked. “You cry too much, must be a hormonal thing.”

  “I’m happy.”

  He chuckled, “So am I but I don’t cry.”

  She laughed and her damp hair nestled under his chin and she snuggled there in his arms and if felt so right. She fit perfectly.

  He thought aloud, “I love you, too.”

  She purred and rubbed her head against him like a human cat and giggled, “Boy, talk about a delayed response.”

  Nico closed his eyes to rest awhile. He’d keep her safe even if he had to rise from the pits of hell to do it. He’d forfeit his life for these now’s and take his final breath smiling because of the joy he found in her arms. He’d chosen, broken his vow and in time would answer for it. But for the duration of time, he wouldn’t abandon this love, unless she sent him away or death intervened. His chest pound thunderously at this reality. At the edge of every sweet lie sits the dirty truth. Nico’s days were numbered!

  ***

  Night came. Nico and Selange stood at the door of the estate waiting for it to open. They brokered an understanding. They were lovers until she said otherwise. They’d seize every opportunity to spend time together. He’d given her a way to contact him in emergencies and forced her to memorize numbers, stressing it was vital she never use any traceable device. He told her ways to get hold of such items and how to dispose of it.

  At the door he stole a glance in her direction and she appeared extremely happy. She had the blushing cheeks and content-dreamy expression of a woman…well…a sexually vibrant woman who recently enjoyed a thorough fucking!

  He lowered his mouth to her ear with a warning, “Hey, get it together, you’re way too…cheerful. If you’re intent upon going through with this deception, it’s time to learn to keep a poker face. Think of something else, less pleasant or these women will smell your heat like pit-bulls. Never give weapons to your enemies. I’m nothing to you when we’re around people, capisce?”

  Her eyes furrowed in understanding and she sobered, “Okay.”

  “Good,” he said then a smirk appeared, “by the way, it was damn good for me, too, I can’t wait until next time!”

  She laughed then attempted a neutral expression. It didn’t work so well and he sighed. Yeah, I’m dead!

  CHAPTER NINE

  Constantine listened to his wife. She learned nothing useful and the extortionist pretend cops were breathing down his neck. Three days and all she did was shop with those vapid women, dally at spas and dine on hors d’oeuvres. She was enjoying this moment far too much, why else had she not produced the list? How difficult could it be?

  “You must get the information. Do whatever it takes and quickly or they will kill me and your means of support will end. Do you want to return to Calabria penniless, because that is what will happen when the money stops?”

  “I am doing my best, if I ask too many questions they’ll become suspicious.”

  “Woman, you must want me dead!”

  “I will get it, I promise. Patience.”

  “These men are not patient. There’s only a week until the wedding and I must produce it before then, hurry!”

  “Okay.”

  Constantine sighed, “You are a good wife for doing this. Once this is over, I will show my appreciation.”

  “How?”

  “I will abstain from drinking, a glass of wine on occasion, nothing more.”

  “Abstain means to go without. A glass of wine is still drinking.”

  “Then I will abstain, not a sip ever again.”

  “Bellisimo, because your love of spirits has brought nothing but trouble.”

  She hung up and Constantine frowned. His wife had no idea of the troubles coming if she did not deliver. The men were threatening to expose him and kill her if
he did not have something concrete very soon. He was becoming desperate and considered fleeing town –but where would he go? He would be found. He thought to go to the authorities, request their protection then dismissed the idea. Constantine knew he would not survive the next day. Messini would get wind of it, think him a police informant or seeking to save himself from a criminal charge by ratting on his boss and have him killed. Constantine would not know who would strike the blow. Messini’s influence stretched behind the walls of the prisons to the courtrooms. No, he would not chance it.

  ***

  Days of festivities and fittings occupied most of the days before the bachelorette party. Sophie was keeping all the women busy, making it nearly impossible for Nico and Selange to sneak away. Three days of this put Selange in Nico withdrawal.

  When the group were not flittering about in preparation for the upcoming wedding, they’d cluster together discussing the final details of the bachelorette party on Saturday. They laughed in private at the surprise in store for the soon bride to be. Which Selange learned was a famous male porn star with a sizable…well…um…you know.

  She marveled at their energies, retiring earlier than most to sleep each night and awoke later than them all with bouts of morning sickness she disguised. She told Nico during a quiet moment on the veranda, it was becoming more difficult finding drive to keep up with them and he’d gone out and returned shortly with a prescription of prenatal vitamins. She didn’t ask questions, instead plopped one in her mouth and secreted the bottle in her purse.

  Yes, they helped.

  Today, they were visiting the Galleria, the studio of renowned photographer Guillermo Toscalvo for a group picture as personal keepsakes.

  She listened to their banter and sat quietly engrossed in her private thoughts. She missed her children and the sound of their voices each day. The distance fostered a longing to hold them. She missed reading to them and kissing them good-night. Then there was the matter of her husband, she sighed, how could she be mad, especially knowing her own indiscretions? She shut her eyes for a moment as the limo rolled smoothly past ancient buildings and historical treasures. They passed La Scala Opera House, as they came closer to another obligatory engagement that kept her from her family.

  “You’re a teacher?” Crystalia asked drawing her into the conversation.

  “Yes, but I haven’t taught in a classroom in a few years.”

  “Why not?” Marcella asked.

  They were listening.

  She shrugged, “I prefer homeschooling my children over the classroom.”

  It’s Amelda, who made an unladylike sound and blew raspberries, “You are afraid for them, say it.”

  This candid remark hit home, “And that, too.”

  “Many of us have careers and children. We have lives outside of our husbands. We cannot live fearfully or we do not live”

  Renalda commented, “Yes…you cannot live in isolation. The men have their jobs, we are entitled to our passions as well.”

  There was a round of raucous laughter and the statement, “Yes, and their passions are not only business but other women.”

  Many agreed, “Yes…this one, that one, yet we accept it because we have secrets of our own.”

  These revelations were shocking and Selange had to ask, “But aren’t you afraid they’ll find out.”

  Sophie interjected, “Discretion is a woman’s closest friend.”

  “The girdle she wears to give her silhouette curves.”

  More laughter.

  “When my husband goes for days, where is he?” One of the women queried.

  “In the home of a cheap woman in Naples,” voiced another.

  “There are some things we pretend not to know for the sake of peace. If he is a good husband he will not flaunt his affairs in public.”

  Amelda added, “If he is a perfect husband, he will see only you.”

  “But what is perfection? None here are. We are people and oh people have many flaws!”

  On this Selange remained silent. These women were opinionated and vocal. Their conversation continued, revealing more about them. For example, Marcella ran a cosmetic business and talked about her expansion to other markets. Amelda was an up and coming clothing designer who was invited to Fashion Week in New York next year. Renalda was a news reporter and ironically covered organized crime. Go figure? Lucia, she didn’t care to know. She learned Crystalia was also a teacher. These were definitely not the stereotypical stay at home mob wives.

  ***

  Nico could hear the women’s boisterous conversation through the partition. No wonder the elderly ladies stayed behind. They probably wanted quiet, leaving poor Sophie to serve as the singular chaperone.

  Nico slid closer to the passenger door, needing an inch more of space from the oversized bodyguard who’d fallen asleep between him and Crane.

  Crane opted to drive which was perfectly fine with Nico, it allowed him to thoroughly scan the streets and focus his attention on his job, which was to provide security as they approached the Galleria. He saw the men standing out in the vacant parking spaces with their fanny packs, hustling the tourists. Not valets, but the dreaded car parkers, known as the posteggiatori. The lowest form of blight in Italy, once the scourge of Palermo who Carlo Dichenzo eradicated by issuing threats to the families who allowed it to fester. Nico was a proud Sicilian, his olive skin and dark features indicative of his southern roots and indelible ties to Calabria. Here, in the northern city of Milan, this riff-raff flourished because Giuseppe failed to squash it, finding nothing wrong in these hustlers bringing money to his northern associates. Unlike, his father who firmly disagreed with the practice of charging fees to park. It hurt tourism, affected Italy’s economy and caused unnecessary troubles for the families. Giuseppe learned much from his father but failed to inherit his wisdom. Shaking down legitimate businesses for protection money, commonly known as ‘the pizzo’ had become a thorn for Carlo and he parted with the practice as a sign of good-faith, hence the Italian authority’s deference to the old man.

  Carlo’s fortune’s derived from illegal gambling, money laundering and accepting busterella or bribes to gain access to corrupt bureaucrats, not penny ante crimes that tarnished Italy’s proud heritage.

  Nico was out the vehicle, walking toward the man with the cap. As he neared the man, his other cohorts strolled over when they saw the well-dressed six foot statute approaching. They should have suspected by the dangerous glint in his eye and the scowl curtained by the beard he was not a tourist but an inhabitant. In their greed this went unnoticed.

  “You have to pay if you wish to park here.” The one in the cap announced in Italian.

  “How much?” Nico asked, giving the man a chance to rescind his demand.

  “Depends on how long you will stay.”

  The unscrupulous posteggiatori were grinning behind their friend, not understanding they had come in contact with one of the Serano brothers and the son of an infamous butcher of men responsible for the contract killings of scores of so-called deadly enforcers and others.

  “There’s a charge for the length of time, too?”

  “Of course,” one chuckled.

  Nico removed a pen from the pocket of his cashmere coat, seized the hand of the man in the cap, pierced his palm with it and squeezed down. The laughing stopped. Sweat trickled from beneath the man’s cap and glistened across his large forehead.

  Nico held tightly, not letting him escape. A sinister grin snaked along the edge of Nico’s lips undetected by onlookers. These were friends exchanging a cordial handshake.

  “There’s no fee for the Dichenzo’s. Let Don Telini know this, show him the payment you received for your insult, capisci?”

  The sweat rolled down the bridge of the cap wearer’s nose as the pain began to spark along his nerves. He hopped from foot to foot nodding, “Capisco…capisco.”

  The other men inched away once they heard the Dichenzo name. Everyone in Italy knew of the Dichenzo�
��s. They were one of the richest families in Europe and the most feared.

  “You two have the pleasure of making sure my limo isn’t vandalized while I’m gone, got it?” Nico said pointing to the pair moving away.

  They nodded.

  Nico smirked, held up the dancing man’s hand and jerked the two hundred dollar pen out. He brashly wiped the blood on the man’s fanny pack, stared him in the eye and dared him to speak or move. The man simpered like a child, intimidated and in pain. Certain his point was made Nico returned to the limo.

  Crane shook his head, “Nico, you are scary.”

  The look in Nico’s eyes told him to shut-up and park.

  CHAPTER TEN

  “Dad, can I come?” Sal asked his father.

  Alfonzo lifted his chin, undid the silk tie and started again. He wanted it perfect, close to perfect anyway. Selange was so much better at these things. He cocked a brow in the mirror to see the boy’s petulant face. Allie was jumping on the bed, a miniature of Selange with all that hair.

  “Go put on a suit, comb your hair and I’ll take you.”

  Sal whooped in excitement then he dashed out the bedroom shrieking, “Yippee, I’m going with dad!”

  Alfonzo chortled, turned from the mirror and playfully snatched his daughter off the bed right before her umpteenth jump and lifted her high above his head. He swirled her around until she became dizzy then brought the small face close to his mouth, kissed it and said, “You sweetness are staying with Anita, I can’t have you terrorizing everyone in the office they’ll quit.”

  She smiled, “Do it again daddy.”

  A one track mind is what the girl had, He swirled her around several times until Anita caught him.