I was a second-generation Italian, from my mother, and Sicilian, from my father. I was born into a world all things green, white, and red. So, it seemed only fitting that in my efforts to get as far away from the expectancies and stigmas that I would venture into the world of rice noodles and cherry blossoms.
If it sounds racist, it’s not.
More of an appreciation and gratitude to the planet for having such extremes. In their pictures and texts, I found a line of continuation—one so similar to my own. But unlike my immediate family, they didn’t seem angry. Of course, I know now the grass isn’t always greener on the other side, and I learned by pure accident that a raging father is the same in any culture.
“My name is Yumi Kim,” she whispers, grinning with a perfect, straight smile as she stripped off her gloves and thumbed across the latest gadget of a phone. “My close friends call me Tai.”
I could tell someone cared for this girl. She was pampered and pretty despite her grungy attire. Her teeth had been to the orthodontist, her make-up was flawless, and that swag look she so embodied wasn’t from the surplus store. The diamond studs lining up her lobes weren’t knock-offs either. On my father’s desk, I had seen enough ice to know the difference.
Nonna always said, “If you love something, you spend money on it.”
Someone loved Tai, and I could understand why—she was precious. With a sheepish grin, I replied, “Sal. You want to be close friends?”
She giggled and swished her ring-laden fingers over the front of my jeans. I guess that answered that. I had plenty of drunken party, make-out sessions. I was a popular guy, and there was never a shortage of girls, but I never had a girl touch me as Tai did. She opened my eyes and brought up – literally – a whole new world. She was the grand intersection of every fantasy I ever had.
With Tai in my crosshairs, I forgot all about the kinky club carnival despite so desperately wanting to see it all. I focused most of my attention on sneaking glimpses through their peepholes. They fueled my early fire, but suddenly, they no longer mattered.
“You want to get out of here?” I asked, not believing the words were dropping from my lips. “We could go ride.”
“Yes,” she said, locking her fingers into mine. “We’ll have fun.”
I nodded. “Yes, we will.”
We ran to the bike, and I shoved the helmet on her head. She mounted onto the leather seat like a seasoned pro, but I had a bit of trepidation having taken the witches for an occasional spin. I took a deep breath and cranked her up before we slowly merged into the traffic.
We rode all over Boston that night. She showed me her places, and I showed her mine. We ended up at the pier with an hour to spare before my shift started. “Your family sells fish. Mine cooks it,” she giggled as I showed her around. “They are determined for me to make it out of the kitchen,” she admitted with sadness. “I will start law school in the fall.”
“How old are you?”
“Twenty-one with a perfect GPA,” she said, tugging off her jacket. “I started music lessons young. I can play the violin, piano, cello, and flute. I can sing, too, but the choir was never much fun for me, and I wasn’t good enough to solo,” she says as if this one thing is a huge, burdensome failure. “I kept the first chair in cello even in college.”
I felt the need to ask a question to hear her answer. “Why were you at the club?”
“To let go,” she said, turning to face me with tears in her eyes. “You?”
I didn’t know what to say, so I tried the truth. “… Same.”
Her fingers brushed over mine as she said, “How old are you, Sal?”
“Sixteen.”
“That’s unfortunate,” she whispered as I cracked open the door to my father’s boardroom. The dimly lit space held a twenty-seat table and lavish wood workings. The room served as a crypt of my future. “Really unfortunate.”
“You’re beautiful,” I innocently remarked, standing beside her with my fingers tucked in my pockets. Peering out the giant windows, she studied the water and boats in the pitch-black night. Her curious expression was soaking up my world. I stepped back and plopped into one of the rolling leather chairs. I swayed back and forth, pushing off with alternating feet, just staring at her for a long while. We said nothing, but something passed between us at that moment.
She had her families expectations, and I had mine. We found common ground in our silence. In both of our worlds, the noise was prolific, but our understanding of one another turned into some spiritual meditation where we could be Sal and Tai.
And there we found solace.
“When do people arrive?” she asked without moving.
“The first shift will be here by three.”
A hitch in her breath startled my senses as she pulled her gloves off, chunking them on the jacket. “And what time is it now?”
“Quarter to two.”
“That’s enough time,” she remarked.
Time for what? I wasn’t sure.
Kicking off her sexy as hell boots, she smiled. Call it a sign of things to come, but I had a thing for feet and shoes even then. I will never forget them. They had probably three-inch heels with a silver wrap. Rhinestone embellishments continued throughout the body of the boot and led to two buckled straps.
I got hard just seeing them come off.
With a tilt of her head to the bar, she asked, “Do you have anything to drink?”
Walking over, I asked, “Preference?”
“Always whiskey, baby.”
It is ironic that this girl chose whiskey as after this night, it would become my second favorite drug of choice. The first is coming…just wait.
With a snarl, I poured two glasses. I slammed mine because – fuck – this was a lot to take in. When I turned back around, she was standing there completely naked. My mouth dropped open as I scanned over bare flesh and stumbled back to her. Trying to keep my cool, I licked my lips, but my breathing intensified to almost a pant as my heart threatened to explode in my chest. I handed her the glass, and she swirled the amber liquid around three times and tossed it back without any hesitation.
Spiraling away from me, she slid across the floor with the most delicate of steps allowing me to absorb the vision of her backside. This girl has some curves trapped beneath the baggy clothes. Her breasts were small, not more than handfuls, but her hips flared wide and pronounced her hourglass with a dedicated exclamation point. At that time, I had never seen a more beautiful ass, sensual and rounded with dimples begging for a swat. And by the dull sight of a handprint, I knew I wasn’t the only one that saw it.
Yes, anyone can be spanked, but for a spanking to be genuinely good, certain things must exist—one, a strong enough Dom to take it and two, an ass worthy of such. Flat ass is never good for spanking. It doesn’t pop the same – it’s got to have a strong bounce to it. Much later I would learn, proper submissives know this, too. It’s one of the many things no one ever speaks about. Good ass equals good spanking.
Don’t even get me started on boney pussy.
Thin girls are fine, but boney pussy threatens the platinum rod and jewels. Fragility should only exist concerning demeanor, not body. Most Masters don’t want to have to worry about actual physical harm, and good submissives can take a pounding in more ways than one. Anything that weakens the headspace is, and boney puss certainly qualifies.
With no signs of Kaci anywhere, I sigh. In our bed, I toss the pillow and get up with my semi-erect cock, demanding attention. I head to the shower hoping to escape the memories of Tai. But fuck.
I remember her slender fingers, setting the glass down on the window sill before she pivoted on her toes back to me. With a simple smirk, Tai came sprinting towards me and barreled her body against mine. Lost in our heated kisses, I paid little attention to her fingers stripping my ass bare. Hands were everywhere as I slid onto my father’s custom carved wooden table. The heavy shellac offered a gentle glide as she crawled after me. Her hands drifted over my chest, and she
touched my rosary.
“Don’t ever stop believing.”
“I won’t,” I said as she lowered and bit my bottom lip. “Don’t you either.”
Traveling down my body, she kissed my cross, taking it into her mouth and sucking upon it.
Sacrilegious, perhaps.
Incredibly erotic, fucking hell.
Her mouth spared no inch of my flesh, from my toes and fingers to my nipples and cock. She baptized me in her sexual waters. I realized later how lucky I was as most girls didn’t come equipped with Tai’s language of love. She knew who she was and what she wanted and it wouldn’t have mattered if I had said no. She would have seduced my ass.
Boy, did she.
Worked up beyond what a magazine and my hand could do, I was hungry—starving—and she aimed to feed me with her body and soul. Straddling over my dick, Tai slid on, slathering me in her dew.
In the tomb of expectations, I lost my virginity to a stranger that night. With every thrust and moan, I was reborn into making my own choices—good and evil. After that night, I knew I could never go back into the Cesario box. I wouldn’t be his mirror. I couldn’t. I didn’t want to run a fishery. Or be a crime boss.
I threw off the crown as his prince and pissed on it all because Yumi “Tai” Kim opened my eyes and made my dick come. It was a reawakening that would ultimately start a trail of bad choices. But each one was a lesson, and I didn’t have a habit of repeating mistakes.
We never hooked up again.
I assume she went to law school, found a man, and lived happily ever after. Sometimes, those chance encounters can change everything. And she did.
Under the steaming hot shower, I close my eyes to try and dissuade the inevitable—the pierced beast coming alive. My attempts are futile as I work a few quick strokes and shoot on the bathroom tile. “Fuck…”
I know it’s strange – this open marriage thing we have going on – but in our kinky world, it isn’t that farfetched. Kaci insists I stay in prime shape, including my sexual appetite. She even encourages me to partake of others because of her sickness. She won’t be able to keep up with me, and the last thing she wants is my frustration coming into play. I can, at times, be hotheaded. My raging, horny twenty-year-old will be bait for an epic fight.
I do my best to refuse the offer as often as possible, sticking to quickies with my hand between our sessions, which seems to be growing further apart. I can’t force the issue. She is dying. And I have a demanding cock. One she helped in creating. I may have had the idea, but she implemented the tools.
I call upon Charlotte a lot. She will suck me off without question. Hell, a lot of women will. But I happen to like Charlotte. She is a good girl, and Ella Hemsworth’s niece and any chance to hang out at Ella’s glass house is a good one. Her father was an architect, and he built the place set into the rolling hills surrounding Austin. The house had far more windows than walls and thus, led to the nickname.
Wrapping a towel around my waist, I grab my phone off the counter and quietly close the bathroom door. “Charlotte?”
“Hey, babe, what you need?” Her soft, scratchy voice inquires as I must have woken her up. “It’s early for you. Need me to talk dirty to you?”
I chuckle once. “No, I need to fuck.”
“Shit,” she says as I hear rustling across the line. “I’m with a client all weekend, but I think Jaid is in town.”
“Ugh…” I groan, knowing the bag of worms that opens up. Jaid and Kaci were involved intimately for several years, but why they broke up is still a mystery. I’ve messed around with Jaid, but we’ve never gone all the way as she professes to be a virgin. She’s kind of a nightmare—the lesbian virgin—also known as the agent, Ghost. She’s a hot ass piece of work that exudes sex with every toss of her dirty blonde hair and blink of her blue eyes. She pours it on thick, but she is off limits to the actual deed. She’s a ninja with graceful gymnastic-like moves. I get she is trained to be a seductress, but God almighty, what I wouldn’t give to fuck her raw. “Why do you do this to me?”
“Oh,” she hysterically giggles, “You know you love the time with her…”
“I do, but Jaid…” I pace around the bathroom, closing my eyes before my hand runs through my damp curls. I hate the idea that she now – thanks to Jack Kerris – has not only a loft next to ours in Houston but occupies the apartment right next door in Sugargrove, too. I think Kaci was torturing me and using Jack to do her bidding. “The history is real.”
“Yeah, I’m aware. Or, you can wait for me, I’ll be home Monday.”
Staring at my reflection in the mirror, I tilt my chin and check the week-old scruff. “I just need a fuck, and it may sound callous, but I don’t care who it is.”
“You could always go to Kate…”
“Fuck you, Charlotte,” I say, playing with her. “I’d rather gouge my eyes out than go back to Kate.”
Kate Capri had served as a bridge between my former life and the Juliet one. She was a “Mistress,” but a terrible one, who played emotional pool with my body and heart. And I was in no mood to have my balls racked up and struck with her stick.
“If you’re looking for a lay, call one of the girls, Sally.”
I roll my eyes. “I don’t want to deal with sub drool. They’ll be playing up to me only to advance, and that is not what I’m in the mood for… I need someone I can dance with.”
“You’re not picky at all,” she sarcastically says with a giggle. “Where is Kari?”
“School,” I reply, wishing Kaci’s best friend – Karissa Banks – was closer than England. “She isn’t coming home for another week.”
“Hmm,” she says, thinking. “A trip across the pond is a long way to go for a one-minute bang.”
“I think I’m insulted,” I scoff, pulling off the towel and assessing the ink. “You know what, I’ll just hit up Jaid.”
“What’s the worst that could happen?”
I chuckle. “… My wife kills me for messing around her ex-girlfriend, again?”
“I hate to make this joke, Sal… but at least you would be together then.”
“You’re right,” I reply, shaking my head. “But so very wrong, Charlotte. I gotta go, babe. Have fun this weekend. Oh, who are you entertaining?”
“Your favorite Mistress…”
I gulp back a breath as a wave of envy washes through me. “… Serene?”
“Uh huh,” she soothes with an innuendo. “We are at Ella’s hotel suite in Austin.”
“Bitch…”
Her laughter blares through the phone. “You’re just jealous.”
“You have no idea,” I reply with a grimace as my jaw tightens to a sharp line. What my inner masochist wouldn’t give for a good whipping with Serene. Of course, I would need to chase that with a long, hard, dominating fuck. And in my dream world, it would be Iris. “Well, be good. I love ya.”
“Same same,” she readily says as the call ends.
I turn around and lean my ass onto the counter as I scan my list of contacts. I zip out a text to the one to cause so much disruption of my thoughts.
“… Charlotte?”
I don’t expect Serene to respond to that. In fact, I accept it may piss her off royally. Part of my plan. I yank on a pair of jeans and grab a white t-shirt as I go hunting for my wife. Maybe I’ll get lucky, and today, she will want me, or more precisely, need my dick.
It’s tricky—this terminal pest—having taken over not only Kaci’s body but her spirit as well. She isn’t the same. Her entire persona has shifted from free spirit to walking zombie on some days, and I don’t blame her. I can’t. It’s not her fault, but the tricky part is I never know which will surface on any given day.
We have some excellent days, but we have plenty of bad ones, too. I never try to make Kaci feel worse with my issues, but sometimes, that is inevitable. We’ll get all dressed up, ready to go out, and she’ll start puking. I’ll hold her hair and blot her mouth, but she sees the disappointmen
t on my face. She thinks it’s because we won’t go out, but the truth is far darker. I cannot save or help her, and I feel like a complete failure.
So, our marriage is complicated.
But our courtship was, too.
The only thing that has changed now is we are on a deadline. We have a time limit. I get everyone does, but ours is bearing down upon us with extreme weight. Kaci wants to give me all the lessons that we don’t have time for, and I need my pixie back. To say we butt heads a lot of the time would be an understatement, but it’s different now. We are slightly more patient and giving, accepting each other’s issues concerning the said expiration date. We cannot change it.
Kaci is going to die. Soon.
All the doctors in the world cannot stop the inevitable. The scans get worse every visit as the crabs take over her innards. They are eating the love of my life from the inside out. I want to murder them. I want to destroy them with my bare fucking hands, set them ablaze, and scream, “Fuck you cancer!” as loud as I can. But this one time I cannot use my lightning reflexes and dedicated aim, I cannot be the rogue assassin I’m trained to be.
And it fucking sucks.
The loft is quiet this time of morning. By tonight, the whole area will be hopping as all the people who cannot afford or pass the security clearance at Juliet will be out on the prowl, roaming a couple of bars.
Finding the note attached to the fridge, I skim over the words.
Next door having coffee at Jaid’s. Come over!
I crumple the paper in my fist and bang my head against the stainless steel door. Anything but that. I cannot walk three steps out the door to Jaid’s because if I do, I will immediately find myself trapped with a hard cock and an impassable hole. I close my eyes.
Fuckity fuck fuck. Fuck.
“Fine,” I mumble. Tossing my shirt on, I grab a pack of smokes and snatch the keys off the counter. I continue cursing because this is the absolute last thing I want to do right now. I do not want to go “hang-out” with Jaid.
But the thing is – even if it hurts, or in this case, hardens me to an extreme level – I cannot tell Kaci no. That word doesn’t exist. And perhaps that has been our biggest challenge. There is no longer an option, and my opinion on things no longer matters because it can’t. I say yes to everything because I refuse to stomach the no.
Vote Then Read: Volume II Page 87