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Reputation

By: carrieoct15



My Uncle Lon reputation preceded him. Every woman in the family knew about him. He is into fucking family members. Because he is a stub in bed, he really has no trouble getting between the legs of women in my family. I been one of the few to hold out, I always my sister would remain strong like me. The slut had Uncle Lon over for the weekend, when her husband was away on a fishing trip. According to my sister first hand report, uncle Lon had world class endurance, able to fuck for an extended period of time without cumming. Hearing my sister account of their affair, I can honestly say my panties were wet. But I had never cheated on my husband in the seven year we had been married, even if he wasn't the best in the sack. So I had always made sure to steer clear of my uncle.

But my calling my sister back for more detail, gave off enough signals that I draw my uncle interest. He boldly appeared at my front door one afternoon, knowing my husband was, at work. I should have slam the door in his face, since I knew what he was there to try and do. Instead I let him in. 

My uncle Lon is a good looking man, and cocksure of himself. He boldly wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me to him, rubbing his swelling cock against me. In comparison my husband was nervous about kissing me on our second date. My resistance melted away and turning me into a big puddle of pussy juices within seconds. I couldn't believe how rapidly, and how easily my resistance dissipated. 

When he moved to undressed me, I should have stopped it then and there, but I offered no resistance. He peeled my clothes off me as easy and peeling a banana His lewd comments as his fingers slide over my flesh as it was exposed to him, should have offended me, or a least embarrassed me. My husband never talked to me that way, he was soft spoken and sweet and boring. Instead my uncle nasty comments only served to damping my panties crotch further. That was until he peeled them down my legs. He threw them across the room but not before bring them to his face inhaling my musky scent. My uncle had made me feel more like a sexually, hot, desirable woman in ten minutes than my husband had I had feel in years of loving making. 

I trembled slightly as I stood in my living room before my uncle naked. The only place my husband thought a person should be naked is in the shower. We didn't ever make love in the nude. My uncle lewdly stated he like to walk me naked down the street, I looked so good. If I was his woman I never have in more than a dress. So he'd have easy access to my goodies anytime and anywhere. The thought of my uncle want to show off my body was exciting me again it was the complete opposite of my husband desires. My husband barely touched me in public. Once we were first married I tried to get my husband to finger me in the privacy of our car. He thought I was being lewd and weird, our fool around was for the bedroom only. 

My uncle's kisses were electrifying, jolting every nerve ending in my body. My toes tingle as he kissed my neck and shoulders. He knelt and kissed the slight roundness of my belly, softly breathing into my navel, he turned me around to graze the white cheeks of my ass with his teeth. His hands roamed over my body feverishly, kneading my ass, fingering my cunt, frigging my clit, thumbing my nipples into rigid little erections. His hands traveled place on my body in the ten minutes he stood there running his hands over me that my husband's hadn't in months.  

My hands trembled as I undressed him, my hand wrapped around his cock, stoking it as rhythmically as he was fingering my cunt. Without loosening our grip on each other, we lay on the couch, the couch my husband and I sat on every night and watch TV. This was the first time in the seven years I had been married I had ever been naked on the couch, making out. Soon I found myself doing something else I had never done on my couch, I found myself my legs spread wide waiting for my uncle's hard cock to enter my steamy pussy. He kissed the insides of my thighs, avoiding my pussy like it didn't exist, my body tensed with need, his lips, tongue, and teeth fanning my flames of desire.

But Uncle Lon wasn't ready for me to have him yet. He wanted to torment me more and draw this experience out. Though his seething cock was weeping copious drops of pre-cum, he didn't rush to satisfy himself and plunge into my pussy, as my husband would have. Instead, he continued sweetly to torment, making me feel special.

My underarms were next to come in for a share of his attention. He kissed my pits softly nuzzling into them then he returned to my neck for more nuzzling. My cunt felt if it was on fire. "Please fuck me now Uncle." I begged him. "I needed to feel you ramming into me."

Lon reached over to his pants on the floor and extracted a condom from his pocket. He ripped the package open with his teeth and unrolled the latex onto his nice-sized cock. 

Once he was sheath, he reached between my spread legs opening my dewy petals, his sheathed cock penetrated me, slipping fluidly into my hot wet cunt. Lately my husband and I had needed more lube to wet my cunt for sex; this was something my uncle had no need of. I sighed, relaxing, ready to enjoy the fuck all the other women in my family had marveled about. To date I think I was one of the last to hold out, and feeling my uncle cock slide in to me, I wonder why I had every held out. Uncle Lon moved his hips in a circular motion, kind of corkscrewing his cock into me, thrusting all the way in each time, pulling out until only the head of his cock remained between my puffy pussy-lips.

His grinding fucking motion was turning on all my other fuck nerves, turning me on like I hadn't felt in years. My lube churned inside me, and his suctioning cock made lewd squishy sounds in my extreme wetness.

Uncle Lon fucked hard, deep, and fast, and when it seemed like he was ready to cum, he slowed his pace, letting his balls simmer, letting the orgasmic urge subside a bit. Then he launched into it again, thrusting hard, fast, and extremely deeply, taking me rapidly toward the brink of ecstasy. As his body thrust up and down in heat, his prick made mini-incursion into my horny body. His meaty prod sawed in and out of me, thumping to the bottom with every stroke, but taking it slowly and gently. My uncle phenomenal self-control, fucking in and out of me slow but steady rate, not nearing climax, but spiraling me higher and higher towards a bone-jarring climax. I clenched my pussy muscles tightly, clamping my inner walls around his hefty dick. He moved his hips in circles so his dick probed at all angles insides me, not missing an inch of my love cavern.

Then he stroked my breasts, not squeezing hard, like my husband, not manhandling them, but making them feel good. Soft brushing approaches tantalized my stiffened nipples, and slow, rubbing strokes tormented my areolas. He fondled every bump on my chocolate-brown circles. And all the while, he was lazily fucking my horny pussy, taking his own sweet time as he drove it in and out, cramming me with his hot cock meat, yet never rushing the act at all. 

I moaned, "I am going to cummmm." "do it," my uncle urged me, humping faster but giving me no sense he was close to climaxing. I felt his hot meat thrusting in and out of me, as I driven toward my first orgasm, soon, little prickles were shooting through my body, every muscle tight as an over wound clock, and every nerve screaming for release. Then a giant tidal wave washed over me and I grabbed my uncle pulling his chest against mine, feeling his curly chest hairs tickling my boobs. 

When I recovered, I immediately felt a second climax building, "cum with me please, Uncle. Please cum with me" my uncle Lon pick up his tempo and intensity goal-oriented at last. When he spurted his sperm into the rubber he had put on before entering me, he howled like a cat in heat. I nibbled his earlobe and breathed into his ear, as the feeling of his climax pushed me over the edge. Our body shook and shuddered in a massive explosion that had been worth waiting for. 

It was the first time a man had fucked me to orgasm, in fact two of them. My husband always has to orally manipulate me to orgasm, but Uncle Lon had the staying power, the remarkable endurance to fuck me to orgasm. 

The women of my family were right. Uncle Lon is indeed wonderful. He was the best I'd ever had, just like my sister promised he would be. That night I fantasize about him when my husband is on top of me, poking me with his pecker. Somehow, it seems to made sex with my husband better. But not nearly good enough to stop me from have my uncle's cock inside again. 

Reputation



As always:

Thanks to rf-fast for the editing work. Your insights are what takes this story from mindless drivel to readable.

Happy Reading!

*****

Reputation:

Reputation: an act or a series of acts that defines the perception of yourself in others. 

Now that is not Webster's definition but one of my own, as at the moment I do not have a dictionary in front of me. The results could be positive or negative and the effects are long lasting. The acts could come from years, months, or weeks of habitual redundancy, or in my case, a single, solitary moment in time. And for me, my reputation in the office in which I work is that of a depraved soul. But still, that doesn't explain why I am gagged with a shroud over my head while being tied down to a chair. And the very reason I do not have a dictionary in front of me.

I was late. It was my first day at Windham Securities, a firm that deals with investments for the most wealthy of individuals. Some wanted stock advice, some wanted retirement assistance, and some only wanted use of our accounting services, but all were prestigious. I was doing my best to make up for the time lost, running as fast as I could in my navy blue suit and fake oxford shoes. As it turns out, running is not the greatest of actions to do when you have poor quality shoes and two left feet. Passing by the bushes that lined the cement walkway I was on, I saw the finish line. I also saw Janet Crosby. She had long blonde hair, blue eyes, and was wearing a red executive business suit that screamed power. She was my soon to be coworker and she was being kind enough to hold open the door for me. As I got close, I smiled at her. I also tripped. With the speed in which I was going, my action was more like a dive, a head first aerial assault onto the aforementioned Janet Crosby. When the dust settled, I was lying on top of the poor woman with my right hand unceremoniously enjoying the feel of her left breast. With several eyewitnesses viewing the event, my ineptitude at running became sexual harassment.

I was embarrassed but determined as I explained myself to the human resources director, thankful there was a security camera in the lobby to show my side of the tale.

"Troy Miller," Mark Driscoll, the head of Human Resources started. "I understand that this was an accident but I also cannot ignore the results of what happened. You are admonished from this instance, but if you slip up just once more, the company will be forced to let you go. You are now on probation for six months." 

My job was saved but not my reputation. Gossip spread across the office like wildfire and I was henceforth known as the Depraved Demon of Windham Securities. No matter how polite or nice I was, hell I even spent forty dollars on cookies a colleague was selling for their kid, it was always assumed I was just playing an angle. Some feared me, some wouldn't speak to me even if we were working on the same project, but most just looked at me with abject disgust. I just couldn't shake my reputation.

Despite the drawbacks, I was determined to make my mark in the financial world. I followed the market, dissected trends, meticulously analyzed companies and prospects. If a stock would allow even a penny of growth, I jumped at it. I was also great at reading my clients. For instance, I had two small business clients say, "I want my company to be environmentally conscious." One said it and meant it. The other meant, 'I want my company to 'appear' to be environmentally conscious.' I knew what was required simply by the client's body language. I worked late every evening, pouring over the portfolios of what few clients I had to ensure their futures were secure. 

It was another late night at the office and just like the others, I was alone. I finished a retirement plan for a client, one that would provide enough equity so he and his wife could live until they were a hundred and fifty and still be financially comfortable, grabbed my briefcase, and made my way to what is always my last stop before vacating the building; the restroom. When I reached the door, I realized my shoe was untied, so I did what anyone would do; I knelt down and took hold of the laces.

A creak of a door and the sound of two footfalls had me looking up at a woman who I have never seen before. She was gorgeous, but not in a supermodel or curvaceous type of way. Those never interested me. Her face appeared soft, her hair, black in color, cascaded down to her lower back, and she dressed in a navy blue blouse, a black skirt, with a black overcoat. The fabric was of obvious high quality and not something off the rack at a department store. Everything about her screamed innocent and wealthy... all except her dark brown eyes, piercing in nature, and they radiated a sense of danger. One glance into them and I knew she could beat me to an inch of my life or further if she so chose. And I couldn't look away. Just one look and I was already infatuated with the woman before me.

"I see what you are doing, Troy!" The voice of Janet came from behind and I turned my head just in time to see her purse arching down toward me. "I can't believe you would have the audacity to look up a client's skirt, you pervert." The force of the blow was enough to flatten me to the ground. What did she have in there, a cinder block? 

I struggled to stand, more out of fear from being attacked again. "I was not looking up her skirt. I was tying my shoe when she came out of the bathroom." 

Janet shook her head, let out a disgusted huff, and rolled her eyes at me before focusing back on her client. "Allow me to apologize, Triela. Please know that his actions in no way reflect the high standards that Windham Securities is known for and furthermore I will ensure this animal is dismissed first thing in the morning."

"Thank you, Janet, but that isn't necessary." Triela glanced over her shoulder as the two of them headed for the exit and she smirked at me, "I'm sure he has learned his lesson."

"Well I appreciate your forgiving nature." Janet then stopped a few steps short of the elevator. "I just realized I left my keys in the office. Do mind seeing yourself out?"

"Not at all, I'll see you next month."

The elevator doors opened and Triela entered. Janet turned on her heels and headed back to her office. I pushed open the men's room door, not at all looking forward to another human resources interrogation come morning.

I did my business in the restroom and stepped in the hallway. I noted that Janet's office light was still on and debated about heading down there to attempt to diffuse the situation but decided against it. Why bother? It would just invite an argument and allow Janet to insult me more without hearing a word I say. Instead, I went the other direction and pushed the down button on the elevator.

Exiting the building, I inhaled deeply. The cool night air filled my lungs and as it always does, helped dissipate my stress. I gingerly started walking down the walkway, appreciating the few stars I could see through the light pollution the city was emitting. 

My attention was diverted from my astronomy hobby by the sound of a gunshot. I paused. It came from our parking lot, the same parking lot that was my destination. A few more paces and I glanced around the building to see a terrible scene. Two very large men had grabbed Triela, one by her feet and the other by her arms, and were trying to force her into a white van. She was struggling with all her might.

"Fuck you, assholes!" 

I thought those words were odd as I assumed most people would cry out for help. She wiggled a foot loose and planted her heel in the face of one of her attackers. The brute fell to one knee, blood coming from his cheek where the small heel of her shoe cut into him.

I took that as my opening. I charged the goon that was still holding Triela.

"Dumb Bitch!" The man I was going after took hold of her head and slammed it into the side of the van. He straightened his overcoat as she slumped to the ground. "There, now you can't cause any trouble."

I swung my briefcase - I should thank Janet for implementing the idea for that maneuver - and it crashed down on his back, pushing him against the side of the van. I continued to blindly thrash about, wielding my briefcase with the expert precision as a newborn does with its rattle.

When my strength was exhausted, I opened my eyes to learn the truth about the carnage that I'd done. I expected to see blood everywhere, a corpse on the ground, maybe even Triela preparing to give me a kiss on the cheek for heroically saving her, but no. What I got was two Italian thugs laughing at my poor excuse for fighting techniques.

"What do you call that, The Trying to Swat a Fly attack?"

"Wait, I know, it was the Briefcase Fanning move. He must have thought our van overheated and he was trying to cool it down!"

"What he did was the I'm butting into other people's business so I'm going to get fucked up assault."

As I was being laughed at, I glanced down and saw Triela. Her face was a mess as she already had a large lump from where her head was forced into the side of the van and there was blood coming from her nose. There was a gun right next to her. I knelt down and placed two fingers to her neck, hoping for a pulse.

"Hey, whaddaya think you doin'?" 

I breathed a sigh of relief and looked up. The sight of a gun pointed at my head startled me. "I was just checking to see if she was alive."

"She don't concern you no more." The thug on the left said before glancing at his partner. "Whaddaya think we should do with this guy? He was pretty entertaining."

"He deserves the choice for that." The second brute responded before asking me, "Do you want to see it coming or do you want turn around?" He finished by combining a shoulder shrug and making a quick movement with both his hands as if saying 'he didn't care.'

"Uh."

"Sorry guy, but this is goin' to happen." The first goon cocked his gun at me.

I can't believe this is how I'm going to die. I closed my eyes and tensed up, waiting for the end.

Two shots rang out almost simultaneously which were followed by two dilapidated groans and two thuds. Was I dead? Am I having an out of body experience? Because I didn't feel a thing. I didn't see the light, my life didn't flash in front of my eyes, and no dead family members suddenly appeared. My eyes creaked open to see the two thugs with bullets in their heads and me... my hands quickly explored my body and sure enough, I was fine. "Ha, ha!" I screamed with excitement.

And that's when everything went black.

*

I awoke groggy and with a ferocious migraine. I went to rub my head, but found I couldn't as I was tied to the chair I was in. I went to open my eyes but it didn't matter as I had a shroud over my head, and I went to scream but all that came out was the sound Charlie Brown's teacher as I was gagged. What the hell? Despite my secure position in the chair, I struggled for freedom. I probably looked like I was having a seizure.

"Calm down." The voice was stoic and exuded authority and I did stop. "You ain't leavin'." I heard footsteps circling me. "We only brought you back here because Triela deserves to have vengeance on her attackers and after that, we want you to give Salvatore a message. Well, we'll put a note in your body bag." 

I really began to struggle now. "I didn't do anything! Let me go!" That's what I said, but it actually came out as "Ah ihin ooh nyhing! Et ee oh!"

"Oh for Christ's sake. Lorenzo, if I wanted to hear him bitch and whine I wouldn't have had you gag him."

"Sorry Boss. Do you want me to fix it?"

"No, don't fix it. I enjoy having this guy interruptin' every thought I fuckin' have because he doesn't understand there's a reason I have him gagged."

There was a few seconds delay. "Of course you should fix it! Jesus Christ. Why the fuck do you think I had you gag him? Fuckin' idiot."

The shroud lifted and the light caused me to turn my head and squint my eyes. Lorenzo attempted to readjust the gag but to no avail. 

"This is the best I can do, Boss."

When my eyes adjusted, I found myself in a large office. Everything was made of a wood; a desk, the chairs, bookshelves, and even the floor was a deep mahogany color. The man in front of me was an older, stout man with grey hair and he was wearing a black, tailored suit. He was also wearing a ring that had a large ruby in it. "Fuck. Whatever. Triela, get it over with."

"Gladly." Her voice came from behind and I heard her step forward. She raised the gun in her hand as she faced me. Her head tilted in surprise before her eyes narrowed. She lowered her weapon, "This isn't one of Salvatore's men, Fathah."

The Boss gave out a frustrated huff as he angrily stared at Lorenzo.

"Boss, I swear, when me and Tony got there, this guy was sitting over Triela talking to the other two. They then pulled out their guns and was going to kill her."

"Ey err ohin oh ill ee!" I desperately pleaded.

"What?" The Boss just shook his head as he leaned within an inch of my face.

"Ey err ohin oh ill ee!" I repeated.

The Boss rolled his eyes and threw his hands in the air. "This was supposed to be a simple execution, but now," he gave off a disgruntled noise. "Lorenzo, take off his gag."

As the gag was untied, I briefly stretched out my jaw, glancing up at the behemoth of a man behind me. "Thank you."

"I didn't have him untie it so you can give thanks," the Boss was quick to get my attention to what he wanted. "So what the fuck were you sayin'?"

"They were going to kill me."

"And who are you?" The Boss crossed his arms, and stoically eyed me.

"He works for Windham Securities. Janet claimed him to be a pervert." Triela then smiled, "She thought he was trying to look up my skirt."

"He what?" The Boss lunged at me, both hands clutching my neck. "I'm goin' to kill you!"

"Fathah, he didn't. His eyes never left mine." Triela tried to pull her Dad by the shoulders. The Boss glanced back at her. "I swear. He did no such thing. Janet was twenty feet behind us when she made that accusation."

The Boss straightened up, brushing his hands together before he stepped back. "And why would a couple professionals stop what they were doin' and care about your sorry ass?"

"Well..." I started but tailed off.

Triela stared intently at me, "You tried to save me, didn't you?"

I gave a slight nod, which caused a raucous of laughter from everyone in the room. Everyone except Triela.

"Let me get this straight, you, Mr. Coin Counter, tried to fight off two professional hit men?" The Boss slapped his hand against the desk that was behind him and with the other, clutched his stomach. "What did you do, throw a calculator at them?" 

"My briefcase." I was barely audible but it was enough to be heard which caused an even greater bout of laughter. I'm glad I can be here for their amusement. My head lowered and my eyes seemed to bore holes into the Oriental rug on the floor. I had a fleeting thought that I now wish I had been shot. This was humiliating.

"So Boss, do you still want me to whack him?"

"Untie him, Lorenzo."

It was Triela that answered, and her words made the room stand still. It was eerie and I knew the next words spoken would decide my fate.

Triela had her arms crossed, glaring down Lorenzo. Lorenzo stared at his Boss, who was tapping his fingers in a slow cadence, one after the other on the desk. He glanced at Triela before refocusing on Lorenzo. He then gave an order with only a slight nod.

I felt the knife in my back and let out a gasp of scared anticipation. A quick movement upward severed the ropes that bind me and, despite my previous notion of wanting to die, I took a few quick breaths grateful to be alive. I was grateful to Triela. Why had she put herself at risk for me? Her father certainly would have executed me without a second thought.

"C'mon, I'm takin' you home." Triela immediately went toward the door.

"Take Lorenzo with you."

"I don't need him, Fathah. If anything happens, I'll just give this guy a briefcase."

That garnered a small chuckle from Lorenzo but the Boss was anything but amused. "Triela." It was all he spoke but it spoke volumes. 

She turned back with a smile, "I'll be fine Fathah. Trust me."

The Boss let out a sigh, "Fine."

Triela gave a head motion urging me to follow, "C'mon, you."

I stepped out of the entanglement of ropes and entered the hallway behind her. Not a word was aired as we walked through the expansive estate. After what seemed to be a longer route than the Boston marathon, we entered the garage. There were high-end cars everywhere, BMW's, a Mercedes, a Lamborghini, a Ferrari; I was genuinely surprised I didn't see the Batmobile. Triela walked over to and proceeded to get into a red... Toyota Camry.

As I slid into the passenger seat, Triela simply said, "What's your address?"

"I live in a high rise apartment building; 15720 Aubrey Lane."

Triela typed the information in the GPS and pulled out from the driveway. I couldn't stop gazing at her. So many questions and I didn't have the nerve to ask a single one. Whom am I kidding? I just wanted to etch her beauty into my memory. Her eyes kept glancing at me in her peripheral vision. I still couldn't look away. She knew I was staring and it didn't deter her one bit. She was in control. 

We pulled up to my apartment building and Triela put the gear into park. I opened the door and put one foot onto the sidewalk before I faced her once again. I had to at least give my gratitude. "Thank you for not having me killed."

Triela's head was straight forward, eyes still on the road. "You look at me funny."

I wasn't expecting those words. Not from her. She always gave me the impression that she had everything worked out, no surprises as if it all had been calculated and the results were already predetermined by her. I didn't know what to say. "Sorry."

Triela finally turned her head toward me. She gave me her little smirk as she pulled the key from the ignition and then got out of the car. I was still half in and half out when she came around to my side. "So which one's yours?"

"Um, 412." I was barely vocal as I stood, unsure of what to think. 

I opened the entrance door for Triela and she made her way to the elevator. The only sound from either of us was the small clacking her small heels made on the lobby tile. She stood away from me in the elevator and when the chime sounded stating we were on the fourth floor, she went straight for my door. Once again, I opened it for her and she gracefully strode a couple steps inside.

"How quaint."

Was that a compliment to a simple one-bedroom apartment with very few furnishings? I was nervous at how to respond to this woman knowing full well if I upset her in the slightest I may never be seen from again. "Thanks." 

As soon as the door latched, Triela was on me. I tensed up before realizing she was just kissing me. I let myself relax and slithered my tongue into her mouth. I felt her smile when I did so and I became more daring. I wrapped my arms around her, one hand to her back and the other lightly cupping her ass.

The kiss was incredible. It was sensual. It gave me goose bumps. I picked her up, which elicited a small giggle before her lips reconnected with mine. I wasn't in a rush as I carried her into my bedroom, her toes barely scraping the carpet as I did so. The kiss was exciting enough.

Triela's hands went to my top shirt button and made short work of it before moving onto the next one. Soon, my shirt fell to the floor and she worked on my belt. She was quick in all her movements to get me undressed. Was this how she was used to having sex? 

In her lifestyle, I'm sure the men she meets are brutish and uncaring. I wanted to be different. Besides, I was with the most beautiful woman I have ever seen, let alone had sex with; I wanted this to last. I wanted to be memorable.




Reputation



I was meticulous with the disrobing of Triela. I slowly lifted her arms in the air and lifted her blouse. I sensed her disappointment when we had to break the delightful dance our tongues were doing, but as soon as I had the hem of her shirt overhead, that sense of longing was a memory. 

A red lacy bra held two of the most fantastic orbs of flesh I have witnessed, but instead of attacking them, I took my time and nuzzled her neck. I then pecked at her earlobe. I traced an imaginary line with sensual kisses down her collarbone and used my teeth to nudge the first strap of her bra off her shoulder. "Oops," I chuckled before moving to face her, a mere breath away. I paused and could tell Triela's breathing was labored. I moved in and allowed my lips to scrape tenderly against hers. I nudged forward and kissed her. It was soft in nature and she seemed surprised by my conduct. When I released her, Triela was panting and I moved to her other shoulder where I repeated my actions. 

My hands went to Triela's thighs and slid underneath her skirt. Her skin was so smooth. I rubbed all around before kneeling in front of her. One hand caressed her ass while the other deftly pulled at the zipper. The skirt crumpled to the carpet and my hands went back to her thighs. My mouth began kissing around the red lace of her matching panties.

I blew lightly on her quim just to say hello as I slowly slid her bottoms off. I moved my head closer and let my tongue scrape across her slit. Triela was quivering. I glanced up only to be met with her looking down on me with stunned excitement in her eyes. This had never happened to her before. I smiled back as I pushed my tongue into her folds. Her head flew back and my smile grew larger. I slowly speared into her. Every in motion was combined with a random movement; I arched, wiggled, made circles, and flicked my tongue in every way imaginable. 

Triela was rapidly being worked into a frenzy. That's when I placed one hand at the top of her mons and applied my thumb to her pearl. One small brushing and she was sent into a state of bliss. 

"Oh my God," Triela uttered as she lost her balance. 

I threw my free hand on her hip to steady her. All the while, my tongue was still doing its playful pirouetting. I couldn't help it; she tasted so sweet, so divine.

Ensuring I had her protected from her own equilibrium, I slowly stood, landing soft kisses upon her skin as I did. When I reached her breasts, I toyed with them. In concert, my hand caressed the right one while and my lips enjoyed the left. I massaged as I kissed. I tweaked as I nibbled. I found that her breasts were sensitive, and she was melting in my grasp at my ministrations.

After some time, Triela pulled away. I scarcely knew why until I peered into her lust filled eyes. 

"What are you doin' to me? I've never had anyone..." Triela stopped mid-sentence and pushed me to the bed.

She collapsed on top of me. I couldn't help my smile as she straddled me. If nothing else, I knew my dream girl will remember me fondly. 

Triela's hands were on my chest as she lowered down. I entered her easily, feeling her velvety sheath encase my manhood inch by inch. It felt exquisite when she finally bottomed out. She began a slow rocking of her hips before changing her pattern and doing a small circular motion. I got the impression this position was new to her and she was taking this opportunity to explore her newfound control. I didn't mind in the slightest.

Soon, Triela began to move up and down. Slowly at first, but with each subsequent plummet the speed she exuded increased. She would whimper with each impalement of her body and I would echo her with a moan of my own. 

With her movements steady, I found myself able to participate. I caught her off guard when I sat up and entangled her in my arms. I leaned forward and placed my lips to hers, allowing my tongue to massage every erogenous pore in her mouth while my hands took to stroking her back. Once our bodies were thoroughly connected in two places, I added a gentle thrusting motion into her. We developed a rhythm; our mutual labors increasing our body heats to a euphoric satisfaction.

"Oh Troy!" Triela cried out as her body let out spasm after spasm, her pussy clamping around my shaft like a vise.

It would be easy to say that that action caused my own climax, but in actuality, it was her words. It was the first time she referred to me by name and it caused me to go off like a rocket. I gripped her tightly, pulling her as close to me as possible. She returned the embrace.

We held onto each other, just sitting there, panting through strained breaths, allowing each other to calm down from our mutual delight.

I was unsure of what to do, which really has been my feeling to every predicament I have encountered since I left work this evening. But here I was in bed with the daughter of a merciless man. A lethal female I know can kill me but also someone who has saved me. I simply made a choice to lie down, bringing Triela with me to the softness of my bed.

I then saw her eyes. Since the moment I first saw Triela, her eyes have told me she is a strong willed, take no prisoners, I'm going to kick your ass type of person. She exuded confidence and toughness. Right now, her eyes were full of wonderment, the dangerous persona was gone and lying next to me was a miraculous flower, a woman. In that instant, I knew I liked her, possibly even loved her and prayed this wasn't a onetime tryst.

"No one ever took their time like that before." I did not think it was possible, but Triela's eyes softened even more at that declaration. "This was supposed to be a one night thing, and... I really like you." My heart soared at hearing those three words. "But..." And with that, my heart plummeted down to my feet.

"But what?" I tucked a stray tendril of hair behind her ear, preparing my thoughts so I can hopefully refute any statement of dilemma she may have.

"Why do you look at me that way?" Triela then sat up in a start. "You know, I am the daughter of Angelo Giordano, one of the head families of the mafia in the United States. Most men eithah see me as some ruthless animal or they try to be nice to me to appease my fathah. And if I ever had sex with any of them, it was always hard, fast, and without caring about me, but you..." She then got out of bed and started to grab her clothes.

I didn't know anything about the mafia, in the United States or elsewhere, but I knew she was the daughter of someone who didn't have a problem breaking things; the law, people, or otherwise. I didn't care. I saw Triela. I saw what was really in her heart. "So all that means we can't start a relationship?" I sat up in bed, confused beyond my wits.

"You don't understand; I am his only child. He went to great lengths to have the heads in Sicily accept me, a woman, as the next head of a great family. It's never happened before." She clasped her bra on and grabbed her blouse. "And I have a big target on my back because other families think I'm going to be a pushover, especially the Salvatore Luciano family. Fuck, I drive a Camry for Christ's sake because it's inconspicuous."

"Congratulations." I stretched out the word, completely lost in this conversation. "Why does that matter about us? I'll support you in whatever you need. I saw what's really inside you. Sure, you have a strong sense of duty, you're confident, and strong willed, but you are also a wonderful person, with a great capacity for compassion, and even though you may not know it, you are sensitive and caring."

Triela shook her head, "Stop sayin' things like that. You're makin' it difficult for me."

I walked over to her and enveloped her in my arms. "I really like you too."

"Did you get knocked in the skull today?" 

"Actually, yes I did."

Triela giggled before shaking her head, "It's not only the fact you would be in danger. It's also impossible for us to be together because you're not Italian. The Sicilians will not accept a male who is not Italian to be married to the head of a family."

"I suppose I could be your mistress?" I chuckled. "I've seen enough mobster movies to know the guys always have a girl on the side. I can be that to you."

Triela playfully slapped my chest, "There's a double standard when it comes women - and that's not just an Italian thing." She looked me over carefully and saw none of that bothered me in the slightest. I just gave her a soft smile. She then hugged me, her head nuzzling my chest. "All right, you win. If you're willing to accept me, I do want to give us a chance."

I lifted her chin and forced eye contact, "If it's the only way I can have you." I sealed my promise with a kiss.

I just didn't know at the time what my promise entailed.

The next morning, I arrived to work right on time. As soon as I walked in the front door, I was ushered into the office of Mark Driscoll by two of our security guards. Damn.

"Have a seat Troy, this won't take long." Mark gestured to the chair in front of his desk.

As I did as he asked, I attempted a preemptive strike to diffuse the situation. "I think I know what this is about Sir and I wasn't looking up the client's skirt."

"So you admit there was an incident last night."

"No, I was tying my shoe. Janet is just out to get me fired. Ask the client and she'll inform you of the truth."

Mark sat down and stared at me for what felt like an eternity, but was actually a few seconds. "You want me to ask one of our highest priority clients whether or not you were looking up her skirt?"

"Well... yes," I threw my hands up defensively. "That's the only way I see to extract the truth."

Mark shook his head. "I told you before that it doesn't matter the action, it's the results that have to be punished. You were on probation and now this incident occurs. We are going to have to let you go, Troy."

"But I didn't do anything." It came out as a whine.

"The guards will escort you to your desk so you can pack up your personal items and then to the front door. You have five minutes." 

"But." I slumped back into the chair, stunned into a near catatonic state.

Mark pressed the intercom button on his phone. "You can send them in now."

The door opened behind me and Mark stood, "Mr. Holloway, what brings the CEO of Windham Securities here?"

The man ignored Mark and towered over me. "Are you Troy Miller?"

I didn't hear him as I was still trying to get over being terminated.

"Are you Troy Miller?" He asked again, his voice clearly upset that he had to repeat himself.

I jumped a little in my seat, before glancing up, "Yes Sir."

Mr. Holloway let out a relieved sigh, "I thought I was going to be too late. I'm here to promote you. You'll have your own office, a secretary, and a team of your own."

"Excuse me?" It was all I could say in this rollercoaster moment.

"But Sir," Mark intervened. "Do to inappropriate conduct, I just fired Mr. Miller."

"Fired?" Mr. Holloway chuckled. "Nonsense. I just received a phone call from Ms. Triela Giordano and she insisted that Troy here be placed at the head of her family's account. She said if we didn't, she would find another firm that would. So I looked into Troy's history and found an outstanding track record of navigating the stock market not to mention his tireless effort in providing his clients the best possible service. I also saw that he had a meeting today with you concerning the very client that wants him to head the account. I don't know what happened, but people who feel they are sexually harassed don't go around demanding something like that."

With that, Mr. Holloway turned toward the door. "Let me show you to your new office, Mr. Miller."

I stood with a smile, "Good day, Mr. Driscoll," and I proceeded to follow the CEO into the elevator.

After a few floors, I decided to break the elevator music silence we were sharing. "You didn't check my records, did you?"

"No Troy, I didn't."

"You're only promoting me because Triela Giordano called you."

"I am."

"And you know exactly what type of business her family is in."

Mr. Holloway turned and had an anxious expression on his face, "I do and it's obvious that you do as well, so don't fuck this up." He pressed his finger into my chest. "For both of our sakes."

"Sir, you have nothing to fear from me."

Instead of being thrown out the door by two guards, I was escorted, by the CEO of all people, to my new plush office. It had a leather chair, a black, sleek desk, and a magnificent view. It paled to Angelo Giordano's but it was nice. 

Not more than a minute after Mr. Holloway left, in stormed Janet Crosby.

"How dare you steal my top client?" She nearly screamed.

"Hello Janet, how are you today?" I couldn't help smiling.

Janet moved close, almost eye to eye, and she began waving her finger at me, "You little shit, just because you helped her, don't think I'm going to let you get away with this." She smacked her hand against the desk which caused my smile to dissipate. She finished by stomping out of my office in an angered rage. 

Wow. That was impressive. I ran a hand through my hair and took a deep breath. I looked around and realized where I was again. I have the best girlfriend ever. My smile returned at the thought.

The computer hummed to life as I turned it on. I had work to do and decided I needed to start sorting through my new client's portfolio. As I continued on my task, I found out the Giordano family was loaded, obviously, but I couldn't crack the ledger. They had money going in and out and only abbreviations to discern to where and to whom. Did I even want to know? I had made a promise, which meant I had to decipher this, which now meant I needed to work with Janet. I rolled my eyes at the thought as I picked up the phone. She would have to be the first member of my team. 

*

I was eating a turkey club sandwich at my typical spot; the Roasted Bean, a café and deli shop a block from my place of work. I was reading up on the stock market trends in the Wall Street Journal and took a sip of lemonade.

"Are you using this chair?"

I didn't even glance at the female voice. "Nope, all yours."

To my surprise, the person sat down next to me at my table. I quickly peered over the top of the newspaper and a smile ravaged my face, "Triela." I folded my paper and leaned forward, "What a wonderful surprise." I went to stand, wanting to give her a kiss, before I stopped, looked in both directions, and fell back into my chair.

"Something wrong?"

I gave an awkward grin, "Are we alone?"

"What do you mean? No one else is sittin' with us," Triela obviously found amusement in my trepidation.

"You know what I meant," I chuckled. "Is anybody watching us right now?"

"No," Triela laughed. 

I let out a sigh, "Good. I'm happy to see you."

"You are?" Triela's head tilted to the side. "Why is that?"

"What do you mean? Because you are you," I smiled. "Thanks for the phone call this morning. I was actually getting fired and your call saved my job."

"Really? What for?" 

"Because Janet told them I was looking up your skirt."

"Well, I'm glad it worked out for you," Triela laughed. "Anyways, I came by today to ask you somethin'."

"So this wasn't a coincidence." I took a sip from my lemonade. "How did you know where I was?"

"I'm informed."

I didn't know what to make of that, but decided I might not want to know. She was here with me now and I was enjoying the company. "What would you like to ask me?"

"Were you serious last night?" 

"About what?"

"Everything." The word came out hard, a very serious tone connected to it. Triela sat stoically but her eyes were showing that same susceptibility she showed last night. She had been hurt before.

I leaned forward and put my hand atop of hers. "Very much so. In fact, I was wondering when you would be free to go out on a date."

Triela blushed before a small smile appeared. "I got a thing tonight, but I can meet you afterward, say nine o' clock."

"Great. Do we meet somewhere or how does this work?"

"I'll pick you up at your place." Triela stood and I did as well.

"Sounds great." I gave a brief peck on her lips. "I'll see you tonight."

Triela turned and after a couple paces her head lowered slightly and her hand went to her lips. I could just make out the words, "I can get used to this," as she continued walking away.

*

After lunch, I was sitting in my office staring across my desk at four souls. For three of them, Thomas Welch, Kevin Barlow, and Ingrid Braxton, this was a promotion. Instead of handling individual accounts, they were under me handling some of the premier clients of our firm. If they did well for me, they could soon be in my position. Their giddiness was evident in their fresh faces, which proved exactly where I stood on the seniority ladder when it came to putting a team together. 

The fourth person was Janet Crosby and her reaction was different from what I anticipated. I expected cooperation through gritted teeth and her countenance to be one of a permanent scowl. After all, this was extra work to her. She had her own team. She was only sitting here before me because I didn't comprehend the Giordano ledger. But she didn't seem upset. Her expression implied one of wishing to be helpful, supportive, and, dare I even say, she appeared happy.

"All right, Thomas, Ingrid, and Kevin, here are the accounts I want you to work on, go ahead and get started and I'll follow up with you in a short while." As they left, I brought up the Giordano account on my computer. "Thank you Janet for taking your time to help me decode this."

Janet walked around to my side of the desk, rolling a chair with her. "No problem. I'm always willing to help one of my colleagues." She sat down, gave a grand smile, and extended her hand, "Congratulations on your promotion."

Sitting down and in close quarters, the handshake was, at best, going to be awkward, but I greedily accepted the olive branch, hoping that come tomorrow I wouldn't have to explain myself to human resources that this wasn't sexual harassment.

The Giordano account was more complicated than I thought. Each symbol and abbreviation stood for something and most of those something's were not legal. Bribery, extortion, money laundering, blackmail - they were all in there. Drug trafficking, prostitution, grand theft auto- they were just a few of the businesses to which the Giordano family were involved. What did I get myself into? 

I had to close my eyes just to come to grips with what I was being shown. I'm certain Triela knew all of her family's indiscretions. Triela. I focused on her, causing the edges of my mouth to involuntary move upward. Yes, I can do this for Triela. What harm would I be doing, anyway? I'm just keeping the books. 

I opened my eyes to see Janet looking at me suspiciously. "Are you all right?"

I chuckled back, "Outstanding."

"Good to hear," Janet continued on, as she started to explain the financial intricacies of an insurance fraud business.

"Sorry to interrupt, but I had found something strange earlier. What is this?" I clicked a myriad of times, much more than I should for a ledger to show Janet what I found. "What is this SL? It's embedded deep within some folders and I keep seeing it but I'm not sure what it is. It appears to be a once a month debit from the account going to a Swiss bank?"

"Um, it is, uh," Janet appeared flustered before regaining her composure, "it's for protection, yeah, in case the government takes everything, the Giordano's have money they need to leave if necessary."

"But if it's an asset, how come there isn't a total anywhere? How do I account for it?" I was genuinely confused.

"Don't worry about it." Janet's hand fell to my knee and she gave me a faint smile, "Another firm handles all of their offshore accounts."




Reputation



As the day progressed, each of my underlings came in and handed me their reports about what could make more money for the clients I gave them. I spent some time with each, hearing them out while offering some polish to their thoughts. Janet waited through each of them and after each left, we delved back into the Giordano account, her hand still getting cozy with my knee.

"Thanks again for your assistance."

Janet seemed to have a twinkle in her eyes, "It was my pleasure. Remember, I'm here to help you whenever and however you need." Her hand shifted from my knee to my inner thigh and began a light grazing there.

"Uh," I gulped. "What are you doing? Did Triela contact you?"

"No... well, yes. But that was only because she asked where you went to lunch. And isn't it obvious what I'm doing?"

I reached down and grabbed her wrist, "No, what I mean is what is with this new attitude of yours? Ever since we've met, you've hated me. Understandably so, but..."

"Can't a girl change her mind?" Besides, if you're good enough for a future mob kingpin, then maybe I misjudged you." Janet licked her lips and pushed her hand through my defenses; forcibly placing it on my crotch. "Oh, that could be why."

I grabbed her wrist again and this time pulled it away from me, holding it firm. I tried to act coy, "I don't know to what you are referring, but even if that was the case, which it isn't, wouldn't you be worried?"

Janet gave a playful grin, which turned almost sinister after she did. "Not everyone is afraid of Triela Giordano." She straddled my lap and shoved her cleavage forward. "C'mon stud, I'll let you touch them all you want, whenever you want. Wouldn't you rather be with someone who won't put your life in danger? Someone you don't have to meet in secret every time you wish to see each other? I can be that for you." She finished by leaning forward, her lips pressing against mine.

It took me a moment to break the spell. I glanced at the clock and knew if I didn't hurry, I'd be late for Triela. I grabbed Janet by her hips, eliciting a smile. She thought I accepted her offer but I was just trying to get a base so I could get her off me. I proceeded to lift her up, turn her around, and place her on my desk. Her hands went to my belt but I took a step away.

"You tease you." Janet's expression was back to playful but turned to one of confusion when I took another step away. "Hey!"

I'm sure the struggle was evident on my face. Her proposal had merit and she was gorgeous as well; a classic 50's pinup girl in an executive suit. But that would have been lust, not love. I couldn't just sweep all my new feelings that I have for Triela under the rug, nor all the memories of being treated like a leper in my own workplace because of Janet's constant reminders of my barbaric nature to everyone. "Thanks for the offer but I'm going to be late."

Janet shook her head and let out a frustrated sigh before smiling once again. "I suppose I can wait for you to get that murderer out of your system." She grabbed a hold of my tie and pulled me into a kiss. Her tongue pushed past my lips and did a pleasurable dance before she released me. "Just don't make me wait too long Troy. A girl can only hold out for so long."

All through my drive home, my mind couldn't let go of Janet. Her behavior was odd to say the least, but her proclamations rang true. Could Triela be my future? Could I really be comfortable living in secrecy? My heart felt so but the rest of me was conflicted. 

I pulled up to my apartment building at quarter to nine and Triela was already there, waiting in front of her car. She looked so demure and sweet. My heart rate began to increase; what was I thinking before? I quickly got out of my Chevy Cruze and went over to her. 

I took both of her hands in mine, "You look stunning." And she really did. It was the first time I had seen her in something other than business attire. Her red dress was form fitting, hugging her curves nicely, and it sparkled in the moonlight. She had also put some effort in her hair as if she tried to curl it, got frustrated with the results, and then just tussled it because of a lack of time. She was beautiful.

Triela blushed, "Thank you."

"Oh, you have a little something," I put my hand to the side of her neck and wiped a small blotch of red from it. I rubbed the substance between my thumb and index finger. 

Triela's eyes went wide before she started digging around in her purse. "Here, I have a tissue." She pulled one out and handed it to me.

"What is this?" I asked as I wiped it on the paper.

Triela's head tilted and her eyes narrowed, "Do you really wanna know?"

Looking at her, I suddenly and very much did NOT want to know what I just had on my fingers. "No."

"It was some spaghetti sauce." I let out a relieved breath, thankful for her lie. "Speaking of which, where we goin' tonight?" 

Oops. With all that had happened at work and with this being last minute... I had no idea. "Uh."

Triela smiled, "That's okay, why don't we start with dinna and go from there?"

"I know a great place." I opened up the door for my date, "Shall we?"

I pulled up to Oscar's, a five star restaurant known for their steaks. After handing the keys to the valet, Triela and I made our way up the red brick walk to the entrance. I kept glancing at her every couple of steps, still amazed that this lovely creature is willingly on a date with me.

Conversation flowed between us. I found Triela was well versed in the classics; art, music, and literature were all great sources of discussion. Apparently, her father wanted to make sure his daughter was educated. I talked about my hobbies of astronomy and hiking to which she was intrigued. We were able make each other laugh and we were genuinely enjoying each other's company.

"Thanks again for calling my boss today."

"Well, my intention wasn't to get you promoted. I felt I owed you for tryin' to save me. I'm glad it worked out." Triela took a sip of wine, her face becoming serious. "I understand that you don't wanna know what I do..."

I interrupted her. I knew this was going to come up. "After going through your portfolio today, I know full well what you do for a living. I just prefer to not know the details."

Triela glared at me for a second, "Not many can get away with cuttin' me off mid-sentence." Her face then softened. "But you see, I can't guarantee that. Sometimes my work follows me, like yesterday."

I leaned across the table and cupped her hands in mine. "I won't lie and say I haven't second guessed myself about being in a relationship with you because honestly, I can't say that I approve of what you do. But that's true of my job as well. Just look at how many people 'Occupied Wall Street' in protest. There are things we all must do to achieve our business desires and I will support you. If I am somehow there in a few instances, well, that's a risk I am willing to take. To me, you are worth it." I meant every word. My heart wouldn't allow me otherwise.

Triela started to tear up at my words. She pulled a tissue from her purse, blew her nose, and then sniffled with a smile. "By the way, thanks for not choosing an Italian restaurant. We could have gotten in trouble entering any number of those establishments. Besides, this is really good."

That was the last time we discussed the issue of her job. I knew the ramifications if something should arise with me around but I didn't care. I wanted to be with Triela. I knew it. 

We had ended up staying in the restaurant, drinking and laughing until the placed closed. I just didn't think two people could chat for so long and still have such a superb time together. With it being late, we just went back to my place. Unfortunately, Triela said she had an early morning so we decided to end our night at her car.

"I had a fantastic evenin'," Triela tucked a tendril of hair behind her ear. "Thank you."

"It was my pleasure." I leaned and kissed her. Her lips were soft and tender. When it broke, she put a hand to her lips as I opened the door. "Drive safe."

Triela got in, "And thanks for makin' me feel like a woman." She didn't look at me when she said it, instead turning the ignition and keeping her eyes forward.

I didn't know how to respond to that, so I simply nodded as I shut her door. It became obvious why Triela would choose me. No one treated her the way I did. As for me, I have to admit I craved seeing the vulnerability in such a strong, tough woman. To know I did that created a sense of warmth in me. Despite her hard exterior, she was smart, fun, and caring. I also knew that I would be the only one to see it. A shame, really, because Triela is that wonderful.

The next few weeks, my life was all about sneaking around. With Triela, we got together whenever we could, which wasn't easy. We enjoyed the theatre, the opera, museums, and simple walks in the parks. She relished in my gentlemanly ways; every time I opened a door for her, complimented her, or gave her a gentle touch, she would melt into me. I cherished every minute of it. We were definitely becoming more than just a fling.

At work, it was all about avoiding Janet. The change in her demeanor was insane; she was a woman possessed. Every day she found an excuse to visit my office and every day I had to find an excuse to leave it. She would also try to corner me in other places as well, going as far as entering the men's restroom with me. She was persistent, and it felt like her goal was for us to be a couple. Not only was she very hands on in trying to get me to bed her, but her words were meant to drive a wedge between Triela and I, constantly bringing up that my life is a secret and I could soon end up dead.

It was a rare Sunday night that Triela and I was out on the town. Triela said it would be different when she became in charge, but just like the rest of life, crime is at its best on weekends. She looked sexy in a little black dress and I was wearing a black, pinstriped suit. It took me a minute to get her joke of me looking like a cliché.

Dinner was at a classy French restaurant, Moreau's, and it was easily surpassing its reputation in ambiance alone.

"So what is it?" Triela was seemingly dissecting her food with her fork.

"It's a French delicacy. Try it." Triela just stared at me. I raised my eyebrows and grinned back. "I'll tell you after."

Tentatively, Triela took a bite. She shrugged her shoulders, "It's not bad."

"Not bad?" I sat dumbfounded. "We're in perhaps the best French restaurant in the world outside of France and you say 'Not bad'?"

Triela took another bite, "So what is it?"

"Snails and duck liver." I sat back, still digesting her prior statement.

Triela laughed at my disposition, "Look, no offense to the French, but I'm Italian. Just wait until I cook for you."

"You? Cook?" I leaned forward and took my first bite of this exquisite delight. "Really?"

Triela gently slapped my arm, "What do you mean by that? I'm Italian, of course I can cook."

"Just because you're Italian doesn't mean you can cook. That response is stereotypical. It's like saying all Americans are nothing but money grabbing, materialistic, and over consuming ego maniacs." 

"So if you're not the money grabbing materialistic type, why are in the business you're in?"

"Do you really think that?" I exasperated and then began to ramble, "Look at my one bedroom apartment, I drive a Cruze because it gets good gas mileage... I do what I do because I like math. That and I want to help people make good decisions with their money." I was finally able to catch myself, noting Triela's raised eyebrows and mirthful grin. She was teasing me so I smiled as I pointed my fork at her, "You should be happy I assumed you couldn't cook. Women fought hard to get rid of the stereotype of being good for nothing but cleaning house and having dinner ready and on the table by six."

Triela giggled, "Okay, I take my slap back. But I'm goin' to knock your socks off first chance I get with some Italian home cookin'."

"I look forward to it."

As we exited the restaurant, I inhaled deeply. "I love this time of day."

Triela chuckled, "You mean night."

"Yeah, that too."

We started walking and, to be honest, all my attention was focused on the woman latched onto my arm. 

"Umph," I grimaced as my shoulder ran into someone.

"Watch where you're going, asshole!" A sleek dressed man with a supermodel on his arm scoffed at me.

"I'm sorry, Sir. My fault."

"Why the fuck are you apologizin' for?" Triela's face was masked in anger. "He's the dick that ran into you."

I turned to my girl, "Relax, it's all right. No big deal."

"That's right," the sleek man shoved me in the shoulder from behind. "No big deal," he added as they walked toward the restaurant.

"Come back here you fuck!" Triela screamed as she was trying to break through my grasp to charge after him.

I normally would have responded to the shove, especially since I did apologize but my concentration was now completely diverted to the ticking time bomb that was ready to explode in my arms. I quickly forced eye contact with her. "Triela, calm down. It's all right. We're fine. No harm done."

It took a few seconds for Triela to visibly compose herself but there was still a fire in her eyes. She took a step back and ran a hand through her hair, "Okay, I'm calm now."

"Are we good? Ready to go dancing?" I threw my arms up and shook my hips.

"Yeah," Triela laughed at my awkward movements. "But I gotta go to the bathroom now. Here hold this," she gave me her purse. "I'll be right back."

I watched from outside as Triela went back inside Moreau's. The sleek man and his date were at the reception desk when Triela cut in front of him. She was frantically telling the maître d something. Whatever it was, the maître d then left to go inside to where the tables were located. As soon as he passed the corridor and out of sight, Triela turned viciously with her elbow up. Even outside I heard the sleek man scream in agony as he hunched over. I was sure his nose was broken as it was gushing blood.

Simultaneously, I charged into the restaurant and due to the commotion, the maître d returned.

"Oh, I am so sorry." Triela draped herself over the now not so sleek man. "I didn't know you were right behind me. You shouldn't sneak up on a girl like that. I'm so sorry. But you're a man, you'll be okay. This is no big deal." She patted him on the back as she smiled at me. She then turned to the maître d. "I'm sorry for troublin' you. I didn't realize my date had grabbed my purse for me." She walked over to me, "I'm ready to go dancin' now." She was proud of herself. I wasn't. And her face fell upon seeing my expression.

The silence was deafening as we walked to the car. Even the city seemed to mute every noise from us. I first opened the door for Triela and then walked around and got in myself. I put the key in the ignition but couldn't bring myself to turn it.

"You're mad at me."

I sighed and then turned to face Triela. Her face showed disappointment. If any of her colleagues were here, they would have applauded her actions, probably even would have helped, and she would have had a sense of accomplishment. But with me, she now felt ashamed. This was the true Triela.

"I'm not mad. It's just..." I took a deep breath to ensure I was precise with these next words. "It's just I know that is not you. In the past, that may have been you, but it's not anymore."

Triela's eyebrows raised, "Are you sure about that?" Her words were soft and expressed her insecurity.

"Positive. If it were, then we wouldn't be having this conversation right now. You wouldn't have asked me to wait outside the restaurant in hopes that I wouldn't see what you were planning to do. Right now, you care about my reaction. You care about me. You are most definitely different."

Triela put her head in her hands, gently crying. "I'm sorry Troy. You're right. I know what I did wasn't right, but you've done everything for me and I wanted to show you that I can bring something to our relationship too."

"But you do." I lifted her head, forcing eye contact. "You bring you to this relationship. Besides, I can't have my girlfriend, the woman I love, get in trouble over something trivial on our date. What would I do if..." I stopped when I realized she started crying harder." What's wrong?"

"Did you just call me your girlfriend? Did you just say you love me?"

"Yes, I love my girlfriend, Triela Giordano. I love you."

"Oh God Troy," Triela wrapped her arms around my neck and kissed me. It was passionate and full of fervor. "I love you too."

After our impromptu make out session, we made the drive over to the Whirl Room, an upscale place where couples can partake in the refined nature of dancing. We marched right onto the dance floor and I felt the trepidation in Triela as I held her in my arms.

"Are you ready for this?"

Triela nervously glanced down at her feet. "This isn't what I thought you meant when you asked me to go dancin'."

I chuckled, "Expecting the club scene, were you? Perhaps a funky disco night?" I put my fingers to her chin and raised it. "With you being such a classy woman, I thought that this would be more appropriate. Relax and just follow my lead." I repositioned my hands, one in hers and the other I placed firmly on her hip.

Triela gave an anxious smile as the music began to play. My feet began to move in cadence to the beat, forcing Triela to move likewise with every footfall. It was a waltz and after a few hesitant movements, the woman in my arms smiled, realizing she only needed to react to my movements.

By the time the music faded, Triela's smile was ear to ear. "That was wonderful. I felt so graceful."

The band began their next tune. "Ooh," I responded, my playful tone evident.

"What?"

"If you enjoyed that, you're going to love this." I locked our frames and began guiding her in step to the tango.

We danced the night away. Triela's smile was ever present and her girlish attitude, so unlike how she would behave with anyone else was unrelenting. I was positive she changed from her stern personality; that she knew she didn't have to be that way in front of me.

It all started with eye contact. We were in the elevator when, after me pressing the button for the fourth floor, our eyes locked. Triela appeared so demure standing there. I easily closed the one-step distance separating us. I put a hand to her cheek and kissed her. It wasn't a peck either. It was one of those love, lust, and full of need connections.

Triela reciprocated, equal in lasciviousness, as her arms eagerly wrapped around my neck, her fingers entangling in my hair. I let one of my hands move around her and cupped her ass and the other moved down her side, following every contour of her form. Time stood still as we enjoyed our own private heaven, our bodies melting into each other.

"Eh hem."

The gruff voice startled Triela and I, causing a small separation as we glanced over to where the elevator doors opened. "Are you getting off?" the short old man added.

"Sorry, Sir," I peered behind the man, surprised to see the lobby.

"Well?" The old man responded, slightly irritated.

"Uh, we're going up."

"You just came from up?"

I looked to Triela, "I suppose we missed our floor." She giggled. "What floor, Sir?"

"Sixth." He hesitantly stepped into the elevator as I pressed the four and the six buttons. "Wouldn't a bed be more comfortable for what you were doing?"

I chuckled, "That's where we were going before we got sidetracked."

We left our conversation at that. I stood in the back, simply enjoying the feel of Triela's palm in mine as the old man kept looking back at us. Every time his head turned, I got the impression he was disappointed there wasn't any porno action occurring. The elevator beeped, signaling our arrival at my floor, again.




Reputation



"Don't get sidetracked until you get inside your apartment," the old man called out as the elevator doors closed.

Triela and I both laughed.

I fumbled with the keys before getting the door unlocked. Triela glided in and turned, "Now where were we?"

She was on me as I tried to shut the door, flailing my arm behind me in hopes of contact before I gave up and kicked my foot straight back to complete the job. Her lips eagerly feasted on mine and I was finally able to reciprocate. Our tongues caressed and ignited our combined passions into a hot flame. 

Triela broke our kiss and had a serious expression to her face, "I wanna do somethin' for you."

Her look gave me pause. It was as if we were getting ready to discuss our future or something else equally improbable. "And what's that?"

Triela gave me her smirk as she descended to her knees. Carefully she began removing my lower garments as she explained. "I've never done this for a guy before. I was told it could be taken as a sign of allowing me to be dominated by a man. In my line of work, that could be dangerous. But with you..." She moved forward. At the last second, she briefly paused and gave me a nervous smile before her lips opened and she continued to my now free manhood.

Triela was obviously not an expert in the art of fellatio but it didn't matter. It wasn't about how it was, but about the why. She trusted me enough to know I wouldn't try to take over her business. She trusted me to know I wasn't trying to be nice to her for her father's sake. But I won't lie, what she was doing was still damn good. 

Her lips were tight to my shaft while her head bobbed up and down. She developed a small rhythm and her tongue began to explore. She then brought her hands into the equation, each taking a turn at touching my favorite appendage. Steadily increasing in confidence, her ministrations were having the desired effect and I wouldn't last long much longer. But I wanted more from this encounter with my beloved.

"Triela." My voice was strained and those words were all I could get out.

She suddenly stopped with a defeated look. "Was it okay? Did I not do it right?"

I pulled Triela to her feet and kissed her. "It was wonderful." 

Triela let out a sigh of relief, "So why'd you stop me?"

"Because I want to make love to you."

Triela kissed me this time, our tongues securing in the sacred dance of love. We quickly rekindled our passion that we were sharing in the elevator, knowing that there was no chance the old man would interrupt us now.

Our lips remained locked, only separating for the briefest of lonely moments whenever we were removing an article of clothing. I picked up my love, causing a squeal of delight to echo in my mouth, and I began to backpedal down the hall. Her legs wrapped around my waist as we entered the master bedroom. My thighs bumped against the bed, forcing our mutual collapse on the mattress in a fit of combined hysteria.

I stared at the beauty next to me, brushing a lock of hair from her face. She looked exquisite. I moved slowly, crawling on top of her form. A faint smile pursed Triela's lips, her body doing nothing but allowing me to do whatever I desired and right now, I desired her.

I moved forward, my body pressing against both sets of her lips, my mouth to hers and my cock to her labia. I eased forward and Triela spread her legs wider, accepting- wanting- needing- us to become one. 

It was an indescribable experience when I realized I could go no further, our midsections pressed together in a pleasure causing bliss. Our eyes met and it felt as if it was more than just the physical that now conjoined us. I slowly pulled out until only the tip remained. As I pushed forward, Triela raised her hips to meet me, her lips forming a silent 'O' shape. Taking my time, I slowly thrust again and again Triela responded by enveloping my body with all her limbs, her arms encircling my neck and her legs around my waist.

It was a simplistic coupling. There was no hurry in our motions. I would move forward and she would lift up. But there was something more. We were connecting on a higher level. I saw through the window of her eyes that Triela was feeling it too. I saw everything I wanted in the being below me and I opened myself- my soul - to her and she to me. It was beautiful. It was special. We were making love.

I sped up but only slightly and Triela greeted me in the same fashion, already knowing. Her channel clung to my cock with every insertion. A moan escaped her lips with every penetration and I resonated that with a grunt of my own. 

Then I felt it. A releasing of pleasure from Triela that coated my shaft and triggered my own. We both let out elongated groans acknowledging our simultaneously shared euphoria.

I looked down at her soft beauty, her hair slightly matted with sweat, her eyes sparkling, and her smile ear to ear. "That was..." How do you describe what just happened?

"Perfect," Triela finished my sentence immediately and I couldn't think of a better word.

"My sentiment exactly." I gave her a brief kiss before sliding to her side, my arm holding up my head. "Are you sure you can't stay the night?" I asked but knew the answer.

"I really wish I could." Triela then snuggled into me. "But I do want to enjoy this a little longah."

I put my arm around her and she purred. With her contentment, I let my head fall to the pillow, wishing this could last forever.

All too soon, Triela slid to the edge of the bed. "I gotta go." I reached out for her, my hands connecting with her hips. She let out a giggle as she slapped at my hands. "Evah since they tried to kidnap me, my Fathah's been increasingly worried. I'm late as it is." After a few seconds of playful tickling, I released her and she started getting dressed.

I got up as well, putting on a pair of boxers and a t-shirt so I could walk my lady to the door without a nosy neighbor seeing me in the buff.

"I love you," Triela put her hand on my chest and leaned in for a kiss. 

"I love you too."

Triela smiled as she left. I must admit, I was smiling too as I went back to bed.

I was alarmed awake by the force of two people grabbing me. "What the fuck!" Unfortunately, those were the only words I got out as a sock was immediately injected into my mouth, followed by duct tape going across that, and then finally a black shroud. Then my hands were taped behind my back and my feet together. I tried to struggle throughout, wriggling and doing my best to flail about, but it quickly proved futile. At the very least, these assholes could have used a clean sock.

I was easily manhandled as I was carried down the steps of my apartment building and then thrown into some sort of vehicle that took off before I even made the thud onto the hard interior. The driver sucked at driving as every turn seemed to be taken at a sharp ninety-degree angle, which sent me rolling in every direction until I hit the side of the vehicle. There's nothing like being chauffeured around in style.

At last, my rollercoaster ride had reached its conclusion. I heard a door slide open before being pulled out, though I did unsuccessfully try to use my feet to push back, and I was carried into wherever we were. I was forcefully seated and my hands and feet were cut free but then attached to a chair. 'Damn it, not again.' I shook my head at the disturbing thought.

"So this is the guy that the Giordano chick is hung up on, eh?" Like all my recent encounters, this man also had a heavy Italian accent. His gait was powerful as he walked around me. He then grabbed my chin, "Look at this fuck, he's a fuckin' pussy." He punched me across my face and my head whiplashed to the left. "Nothin' but a cunt." He punched the other side just as firm and my head went in the other direction. "The Giordano's must be getting desperate, eh?" He started laughing which caused a slew of other people in the room to do the same.

"I can see the appeal." A female voice answered from behind me. I couldn't place it, but it sounded familiar.

"What?"

"He's smart, loyal, a gentleman, and has a nice cock." How does this woman know me so intimately or was she just egging on the brute?

"Are you sayin' I don't know how to treat a skirt?"

"You have four girlfriends, and none of them could be happy with that. Unless your problem is a little further south."

"Listen, Half-Breed," I then heard the man take a forceful step toward the woman, "No one asked for your opinion and no one asked for you to be here so beat it, capisce."

The sound of two footsteps occurred and the room immediately fell silent. "Did you start without me, Antonio?" It was an older man's voice, one full of authority.

"Pops, um, sorry. I know you don't like when I call her..."

The sound of the slap was deafening. "Then why did you do it - again!" Two more slaps echoed the room. "Someday, you are goin' to be the head of the Luciano family. Grow up, will you. And as for your sister, I wanted her to be here." 

The old man's footsteps resumed and stopped right before me. My chin was suddenly grabbed as he turned my head from side to side. "Antonio, why is my guest wearin' a hood? I don't recall sayin' he should be in a hood. Did I say he should be wearin' a hood? Remind me Antonio, what were my instructions."

"You said to go pick up Troy Miller because you wanted to have a chat with him, Pops. And then you gave me the address."

"That's right. Now tell me, does any of what you just said mean to put a hood on him?"

"Uh, no Pops."

"Then why is he wearin' a fuckin' hood!"

"Sorry, Pops." 

The shroud was lifted, and just as before, I had to squint my eyes as my sight readjusted to the light. The room itself didn't have any adornments, the floor concrete, the walls were drywall; it was as if we were in an empty room in a warehouse. But what it did have was a handful of men and I assume a girl, but she was out of my peripheral vision. The most distinguished of them was the man in front of me. Salvatore Luciano had a slim frame to go with his peppered hair and mustache. In his black suit with red tie, he was very sharply dressed and he stood straight, easily commanding the attention of all that were in the room. 

"There you go Pops." I glanced back to the voice, and all I could see was Antonio. He had a bigger body than his father and his hair was black, but he stood slouched. At that moment, I knew Antonio was a peacock; strutting with his chest puffed out, doing acts in front of his boys that would make him look strong. But when true power appeared, he turned into a five year old after being caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

"Sorry about this." Salvatore reached for the end of the duct tape and yanked it.

It hurt but I was grateful for the freedom I now possessed. I immediately forced the disgusting sock out of my mouth, coughing and using my tongue until it was free. "Can I have some water?" I choked out.

What is it with mob bosses and the head nod? First Angelo Giordano and now Salvatore Luciano ordered people with just a head nod. A bottled water was being held at my lips with such speed Superman would have been jealous. I chugged the liquid quickly to disperse of that odious taste. "Thank you. I had sweated all day in that sock." Salvatore gave a hard look at Antonio. "I presume I am now in the presence of Salvatore Luciano." I then tilted my head as I narrowed my eyes. "You're SL aren't you, from the Giordano ledger?"

"I told you he was smart," the female voice called from behind.

"Troy Miller, you don't mind if I call you Troy do you?"

"No Sir."

"Allow me to disagree with her opinion of you Troy." 

"By her, you mean Janet, don't you?" A small smile percolated my lips.

Salvatore's stare became steel, "This is what I'm talkin' about. People who are smart don't usually go around babbling people's secrets when they are standing right in front of them. Especially when that person can put a gun to their head." And he proceeded to do just that.

My smile had been vanquished and I sat there paralyzed. The sound of three quick high-heeled steps came forward. It had to be Janet, unless one of these goons was a cross dresser.

Salvatore held up his hand and Janet stopped immediately. "Now my daughter warned me that you were an intelligent guy and would probably pick up that I was stealin' from Angelo sooner or later. That's why I brought you here. To talk." He lowered his gun, "You impress me Troy. You really do. A gun pointed at your head and you didn't back down. That and you are going to single handedly take down the Giordano's for me. The Sicilian board is going to take that little bitch Triela and cut her in half when this affair of hers becomes public." 

I struggled against my bonds, a fury in my heart. "You Bastard!"

Salvatore laughed, "Looks like I struck a nerve." The room echoed with laughter as everyone else copied his lead.

I put my taped feet firmly on the ground. My anger swelled into an outpouring of adrenaline as I pushed upward with all my might, sending the back of the chair right under Antonio's jaw, leveling him. With a determined look in my eye, I was about spin and level Salvatore but five men, surrounding me with their guns drawn, quickly halted my onslaught.

"That's enough," Salvatore pushed on my shoulder causing my unbalanced body to fall backward. 

The chair teetered briefly, before collapsing backward and I unceremoniously caved to the floor. It hurt, specifically because of the migraine I was sporting as the result of my head bouncing off the concrete.

Salvatore walked over, standing with his legs on either side of me, "What was your play here, huh? Beat up seven guys with guns while being taped to a chair? You must be a real dumb smart guy to think of somethin' as stupid as that. You really pissed me off," He added as he pointed his gun at my head.

"Papa." 

Salvatore glanced at his daughter. He sighed and shook his head. He then gave me a glare of death. "You are lucky I love my daughter." His arm seemed to shake, and with it the gun as well, and it appeared he was doing his best to control his rage. "Janet is going to tell you what is expected of you from now on because if I stay Troy, it would take the police a month to drag through the lake to find your body." He forcefully stomped away and I exhaled a breath I didn't know I was holding.

"I'll have you out of this in a minute," Janet grabbed a pair of scissors and began cutting the tape. She mostly concentrated on her task, but she did keep giving me quick, mirthful glances.

"Get the fuck off me!" Antonio screamed at his posse, as he was finally able to get to his feet. He gave me a harsh look as I stood myself. "I'm gonna kill you. You hear me?"

Janet shook her head. "Don't worry about him. He won't do anything without Papa's permission." She put her arm to my back and with a small amount of encouragement got me walking to the door. "I figured we can have a drink while I tell you what's going on."

"That's right Half-Breed; get your kicks with that piece of shit while you can."

'A peacock'... "I'll be right back. I forgot something." I turned on my heels and marched up to Antonio. As I stared him down, he had a look of reservation in his eyes, surprised at my audacity. "Hand me my sock."

"What?" The confusion evident in his voice.

"You heard me."

"Uh."

I slapped his face. "Now!" Antonio bent down and picked up my sweat and saliva saturated sock. I ripped it from his hands. "And apologize to your sister."

Antonio's head shied down, "uh, Sorry Janet."

"It's okay."

I stuffed the sock in my boxers pocket and as I turned around, I couldn't help my grin. I then saw Janet's tears. I waited until we were both out of that room and out of earshot, "Are you all right?"

Janet let me have it - and she didn't hold back. Her response was swift and powerful. She hugged me. Her arms wrapped around my body in a tight embrace. "Thank you for that."

My hands were suspended in midair before I let them fall onto her back. In what was meant to be a consoling gesture, I let one rub lightly just below her neck.

Janet sniffled as she straightened up, wiping at her eyes while doing so. "There's a room up ahead where we can sit and talk."

Janet offered me a beverage as I sat in a small fold out chair in front of a card table. We were actually in an abandoned factory and it was obvious the Luciano family spared no expense in the decorating of this place. Literally.

"Lemonade, please."

Janet's movements halted at my words. "Lemonade? Uh, not something that we have." She was definitely looking at me funny. "Think wine and liquor."

"Do you use soda for mixers?"

Janet peered around, "There's some cola in here."

"That works." 

Janet let out a chuckle and shook her head as she poured the drinks. She set mine in front of me as she sat down. "You don't drink?"

"Not when there's the possibility of me getting shot if say or do the wrong thing while I'm drunk." I picked up my red plastic cup and tapped it against hers. "So, why am I here?"

Janet gave small giggle. "First, I want to apologize to you."

"Apologize?"

"Yeah, I want to say I'm sorry for the hell I put you through at work. I let how I am treated here affect me there. My father is Salvatore Luciano but my mother is not his wife. I'm not even allowed at his mansion because I am a reminder to Martina he had affairs. Hence the name Half-Breed Antonio and everyone else calls me when he's not around." The poor girl began to cry as she continued to bare her soul. "I took all my frustrations out on you. I know it was an accident when you fell into me, but I used it as an excuse to harass you and you didn't deserve that."

I put my hand over hers, "Don't worry about it. There's no need to dwell on the past."

"Don't say that, you're making it worse."

"What?"

"You're being nice and I don't deserve it." Janet sniffled, "After Triela transferred their account management to you; I was ordered to try to seduce you to protect the family. I didn't have a choice. But you rejected me. And rejected me. And rejected me... At first, I thought there was something wrong with me, I just didn't understand why you would keep saying 'no.' Every guy I see is always talking about how they have multiple girlfriends on the side or some hot piece of ass they can always call up. Then something strange happened, I got to know you. The more time I spent with you, the more I liked you. And the more you rejected me, the more I knew that it wasn't me, but it was you. As a man, you were capable of loving only one woman. I fell in love with you - and I was acting like nothing more than a whore, begging someone to fuck her." At that statement, her sobs became violent with her shoulders trembling uncontrollably.

I stood and went over to her, easily engulfing her in my arms, "You're not a whore. A whore wouldn't be self-conscious about those acts. They weren't even your choices." It took some time, but Janet was finally able to calm down. "You going to be okay?"

"Yeah," Janet wiped her reddened eyes with the sleeve of her shirt. "You're going to hate me more after I give you the bad news."

"I won't hate you," I brushed a lock of hair from her face and tucked it behind her ear. "I assumed there was more. I certainly wasn't brought here for what you just told me."

"I'm sorry to be the one to have to tell you this, but the reason Salvatore wanted to meet with you was to blackmail you. He says he'll tell the Sicilians about you and Triela if you stop the money flowing into the Swiss account."

"I can't keep a secret from her."

Janet clutched at me, a deep fear in her eyes, "You have to, the Sicilian's are brutal. They'll not only kill Angelo and Triela, but you as well."





Reputation



"I don't understand, wouldn't the deaths of the Giordano's help Salvatore? Why would he care about a few dollars if it meant getting rid of his rival?"

"Because the Sicilian's, citing betrayal, will take over their household and that's something Papa doesn't want. They would immediately be the head family here and everybody else would be forced to fall in line."

"So why tell?"

"It's pride. The Giordano's are the head family in the states. Right now, he's stealing from them to boost his ego but if you take that away..."

I shook my head. That's why greed and pride are two of the seven deadly sins. I didn't like my choices. I took a deep breath, "All right, all right, I'll keep it a secret, but you're the one that will be doing the scamming. I won't be a part it."

"Deal," she chuckled.

"On one condition." My eyes furrowed, "On the day Triela was being kidnapped, you forgot your keys so she left alone; that was planned, right?"

"I'm sorry about that too. What Papa wants, Papa gets." Janet tilted her head, "When did you start to suspect me?"

"When you told me that I got the account when I helped her against being kidnapped. How would you have known that?"

Janet shook her head. "You really are intelligent."

I smiled at the compliment. "So what did Salvatore want with Triela?"

"He was going to use her as a bargaining chip to try to be the head family." 

What a hectic day loaded with chaotic information. I ran my hand through my hair and took a deep breath. "Why can't we all just get along?"

Janet whispered, "There is another way out of all this."

"And what's that?"

Janet stood, our closeness putting our faces mere inches apart. "I love you." She pecked my cheek. "If you choose me, then we can get away from all this. Papa won't care about me leaving and we can live a happy life together. And everyone lives."

I took a step away. "Janet, I'm flattered you think so highly of me but..."

Janet put her hand to my lips, "See, it makes me love you more. Just please, think about it." She let loose a small laugh. "It's almost morning, I'll see to it that you get a ride home. Giuseppe, Mario!"

Two men came in the room, one holding the black shroud from earlier. I rolled my eyes, "Seriously?"

"Sorry," Janet snickered as she left the room.

To my relief, I was chauffeured back to my place by a different driver. I was ecstatic that I was able to sit upright for the entirety of the trip. We came to a stop and I was pushed out of the van, my feet stumbling beneath me before I found my balance. I pulled off the shroud with just enough time to be able to smack the side of the grey vehicle once.

"Hey, this isn't my home!"

My words did nothing as the van sped away. I turned to face the building known as Windham Securities, my job, wearing nothing more than a t-shirt and a pair of boxers that had a sock in the pocket. Some of the early birds were strolling in and couldn't contain their amusement at my predicament. I weighed my options. I didn't have many. I could try to get home but without my wallet, I would be walking it. I could go wait in Janet's office, but that would require me to walk through the building and risk being fired - again. Or I could just put the shroud back on and try to hide in the bushes. I was tempted to do option three.

"Troy Miller, I need you to come with us to answer some questions."

I spun around quickly to the voice, finding two men. Both were equal in appearance - slightly above average height, black hair, black suits, sunglasses, and a look of intimidation. The only difference was that the man on the left had his hair in a crew cut and the other had a full head of hair that was parted. The only positive was that these men didn't look Italian, nor did they have a shroud for me to wear.

"And you are?"

"Oh forgive me," the one on the left declared while the other moved to my side, presumably to keep me from running, "I'm Agent Smith and this is Agent Jones of the Federal Bureau of Investigation." He pulled out his identification. As he did, I took note of the gun under his jacket. "Now right this way."

Being involved with two different mafia families has its disadvantages. I tried to stall; for what, I'm not sure. "And what's this concerning?"

"Mr. Miller, you're in your underwear standing in front of your office building. Does it really matter?"

Agent Smith made a solid point and I couldn't think of anything else to get me out of this situation. "Lead the way."

Agent Smith did lead the way and it felt like my shadow weighed two hundred pounds. Or that could have been because Agent Jones was walking in step right behind me, his feet seemingly on my heels. Agent Smith opened the rear door to a black Ford Edge. I hesitated knowing that once I was in the confined area, I would be at their mercy. I looked into his eyes and it was as if he were ordering me to get in. At least he didn't give a head nod. I slid in and Agent Jones did as well, pushing me over with his hip. I had assumed he would have walked around but I was wrong. Agent Smith got in the driver's seat and peered over his shoulder at me.

"Put the shroud on."

I raised my eyebrows, "You're kidding, right?" I glanced at both agents and they were steadfast. I guess they didn't need a shroud if I provided one. "Seriously?" It was a rhetorical question and one I used to vent frustration as I resigned myself to my fate. I opened the end of the shroud and lifted it to my head. Suddenly, both men started laughing.

"I just wanted to see if you'd do it," Agent Smith chortled while handing over a twenty-dollar bill to his comrade.

I was tired of being the butt of everyone's jokes just because I wasn't an insider in the mafia or the F.B.I. "If you only knew what I've been through..."

"That's what we intend to find out, Mr. Miller," Agent Smith coldly stated as he turned the ignition.

Oops.

It was a quick drive to a parking garage. I went to get out, but was halted by Agent Jones. Agent Smith turned to face me. "Who are you, Mr. Miller?"

"Wait, we're doing this here?" If the shock in my voice wasn't evidence enough, I'm sure my wide-eyed expression told him how astonished I was.

"Yes, and my partner and I have been given the task of putting an end to organized crime in this city. So I repeat, who are you?"

"Um, I'm Troy Miller." I drew out the words, unclear on what he wanted me to say.

Agent Smith let out a frustrated sigh, "I already know your name, Einstein. What I want to know is," And he forcefully wagged his finger at me, "how come I have pictures of you with Triela Giordano and now last night I have you coming out of the abandoned textile factory on the docks; a place that just so happened to have Salvatore Luciano in attendance. Now tell me who the fuck you are!"

"I'm a financial advisor at Windham Securities, nothing more. I swear." My voice had raised an octave as this time those words rushed from my throat.

"Nothing more? A person with ties to two rival mobs is never just a financial advisor, Mr. Miller. So, we can do this the easy way or the hard way, the easy way is you answering my questions. The hard way is..." To finish Agent Smith's statement, Agent Jones stabbed his gun into my kidneys.

I now understand why I'm being interrogated in the back of a car. I gulped, "Uh."

"Why did you meet Luciano last night, Mr. Miller, and don't make me ask you again."

"He wanted a meeting."

"To discuss what exactly?" Though Agent Smith asked, Agent Jones punctuated his question my nudging his gun further into my side.

"He's stealing from the Giordano's and didn't want me to ruin it."

"And how could you do that?"

"By telling Triela about the swindle."

"Ah," Agent Smith nodded his head. "Now we're getting somewhere. Let's talk about your relationship with Triela Giordano. You're telling me you're just a financial advisor, but I have all these pictures," and he began tossing pictures of Triela and I that were taken during our dates at me, "of the two of you dancing, eating dinner, oh, here's a good one of the two of you kissing. Now I don't know what your firm is practicing, but I never have kissed my financial advisor."

"Why? Is he old, fat, and balding?" Answering questions about Salvatore Luciano was one thing, but there was no way I was going to mention anything to jeopardize Triela.

Agent Smith glanced at Agent Jones and I let out a gasp when I was violently elbowed in the side. 

"This is what I think happened. You were assigned the Giordano account. You met Triela and she seduced you so you wouldn't go to the police. But someone was watching you and told Salvatore Luciano that his little scam was going to be uncovered. Am I right?"

I looked from Agent Smith to Agent Jones, "You're up."

He answered by gut punching me. 

"You know, I like you Mr. Miller. You've got some balls. But your silence tells me everything." Agent Smith laughed. "But you're throwing your life away. Is Triela Giordano that good of a piece of ass to risk going to prison?"

I sneered as I digested his words. I was tired, irritated, and angry; and that combination spurned me to cock my fist and swing at a federal officer.

Agent Jones hooked my elbow with his before I even came in the vicinity of Agent Smith and with his other, he punched me. My head flew back and I was certain I'd shortly have a black eye.

Agent Smith then got out of the vehicle and Agent Jones followed his lead, dragging me with him. Agent Jones stood me up as Agent Smith walked up to me. "You listen to me, you piece of shit," he punched me in the stomach and as his hand withdrew, I saw the brass knuckles explaining why that punch hurt so much more than what Agent Jones did, "I'm tired of this assignment. The sooner I'm finished with your girlfriend, I get promoted. Maybe I'll fuck her before I send her away for rest of her life since her pussy is so damn good."

I was hunched over, gasping for oxygen, when I coughed out, "I take it my rights flew out the window."

"Rights?" Agent Smith decked me in my jaw and continued to swing with both fists randomly switching from head and body shots. "Your rights went out the fucking window when you decided to break the law." I didn't see it, but I'm sure he gave a head nod to order Agent Jones to let me go. I crumpled easily to the concrete. "I'll be in touch Mr. Miller and don't worry; I didn't do any permanent damage... this time."

It was a long walk home. At least the parking garage was closer to my destination than my work was. It still took the same amount of time to get there due to the punishment I incurred. Thank goodness for the sock! I was able to use it to somewhat control the bleeding my nose seemed to want to expel at a rapid rate. I crashed into the mattress without a second thought. It had been well over twenty-four hours since I woke up and my body didn't care.

Someone was running their hand through my hair. It was done with a feathery touch and it felt nice. I almost didn't want to open my eyes. Then it hit me that someone was touching me in my house where I live alone. My eyes shot open as my body bolted upright. Or at least tried to. It was dark, but I was still able to make out Triela in the moonlight. Her arm had reached across my chest, encouraging me not to move. With the amount of pain I was in, it didn't take much for me to oblige.

"Shh, it's okay. It's just me, Tesoro." Triela gave a weak smile and it was obvious she had been crying. "Just relax and let me take care of you."

Yeah, I can do that. "What was that word you just used, tes ..."

"Tesoro. It means treasure in Italian. Is that okay? Do you not like it?"

I gave her my best smile, which wasn't that great but I tried, "I am honored that you feel enough for me to call me that." I reached up and put a hand to her cheek.

Triela leaned down and kissed me. It wasn't hard but I still cringed and let out a hissing sound as the pain from being used as a punching bag was too great for even that small amount of contact. "Oh. I'm sorry."

"I would gladly endure that pain for your sweet lips."

Triela blushed a little as she brushed a few tendrils of hair out of her face. "So what happened to you?"

I told her everything. The meeting with Salvatore Luciano and how he's stealing from her, the conversation with the now known daughter of Salvatore, Janet, as well as the reason she was targeted for a kidnapping and my now being blackmailed to the feds beating the snot out of me and leaving me for dead in a parking garage. I focused on the hard truth that the Giordano family was being pinched on two sides and very soon it could be three if the Sicilians get involved. Throughout the tale, Triela's eyes hardened and she kept flexing her right hand. 

"I'm goin' to kill every last one of those bastards."

"Triela, Sweetheart," I figured since she gave me a pet name I can give her one, though I don't think I can call her that in front of anyone else, "I don't want you to do anything."

"But..."

"You can't go after federal officers. Did they abuse their rights... yes, but if you kill a F.B.I. agent; you will go away forever. If you think about it, being separated for life is far worse than a few bruises."

Triela's face softened a little and I got the impression her heart was opening up to the reality that the majority of the world lives in: there are consequences for breaking the law. "What should we do?"

I wanted to run but I had promised her I would never ask that of her. Maybe not those exact words, but I did say I'd support her despite her job. No, if we left to start a new life, it would have to be Triela's idea.

"We lay low for a while." I was taken aback at Triela's immediate nodding, reaffirming my statement. "You do understand that I'm asking you to stop doing your job - that you have to stop handling the affairs and businesses of your family, just for a little while?" 

Triela smiled, "I know. But as you've told me time and again, I'm worth putting yourself in danger, well, you're worth enough for me to take a break. I'll just have to dodge my Fathah for a while." Her face then contorted in worry, "What about you?"

"Everyone seems to know where I live, so I'm going to move into a motel. I'll talk to my boss and see if I can do my work out of the office. If I can't, I'll use my vacation time. It's really all we can do until we know what the feds and Luciano's plans are."

And it worked. I had moved into the Aphid Motel that very evening. I relaxed, my body recovered, and Mr. Holloway even allowed me to work from there. I did get the distinct impression he was only willing to allow me to work away from the office because he received a phone call from someone else. I didn't ask. Triela and I used the web to keep in contact just so we could see each other.

Triela was successful in avoiding her father like the plague and had managed to live life as if she were a normal citizen. She eluded him so much so that other members of her family trickled the message down to Triela at how angry Angelo was with her. We had managed to add a ruthless murderer to our enemies. But still, my plan was working flawlessly.

When Triela and I did get together, Triela took several cabs, stopping at heavily populated places like the mall before getting into another one. We would eat at the diner across the street and then go back to my room and watch movies, be intimate, or simply talk while holding hands and cuddling. It actually was a special time as it allowed us to further increase the bond between us. Only later did I realize how naïve I really was to think that not coming to a solution to our problems, in fact ignoring them, would allow us to live happily. With so many people trying to find us, all it took was time and we afforded them all they needed. I was a fool.

I had just finished with a financial meeting with the Howard family, a couple who wanted to plan for their son's college tuition. As I have been, this was done over the internet. I had actually found my clients preferred this method to prevent them from having to trek the city. Despite my less than professional surroundings, I still wore a suit to convey that I was still someone worth speaking to about their securities.

No sooner had I powered down my laptop, my motel room door burst open. Shards of the wooden frame went flying every which way and the door itself hung by only the top hinge. As several armed men stormed in, I quickly tried to flee, darting away from the brutes and into the bathroom. Though there was no chance for escape - no window, no nothing - it was the furthest from the intruders. I was trapped and seconds later, there was a gentle tapping on the bathroom door.

"We know you're in there." There was obvious amusement in the man's voice and I heard a couple of other people laugh at how he said it.

They didn't wait for me to open the door - not that I was going to - nor did they ask me to do so. No. In just a breath of time since the amused declaration did this door suffer the same fate as the entrance door.

I duck and covered, cowering next to the furthest wall, not so much in fear, but in the abrupt knowledge that I was soon to be a dead man. Fragments of the door landed on me and a moment later, there were hands that followed the same path.

"Get off of me!" I screamed as I struggled.

The men found humor in this as well and that's when I saw an old familiar acquaintance of mine - the shroud. A piece of cloth was stuffed into my mouth and I was silenced once again with tape holding it in place. My hands and feet were then secured as the shroud was placed over my head. It was unlike any of the prior two. Instead of a thick material, it was thin and I could see. It was as if I was meant to see but not be seen.

The van pulled into an old abandoned factory on the docks - Salvatore Luciano's place. This confused me as for safety reasons, namely my own, Triela gave me permission to keep funneling money into his account. She just didn't see a way to avoid not only a war, but also bringing our secret relationship to light if she told her father. So there was no reason for Salvatore to kidnap me.

I was hauled into the same room as before and I had a sense of déjà vu as I was similarly attached to a chair. All of this was expected. People tend to stick to their routine of what they feel works best. What did surprise me was that Salvatore Luciano along with Antonio and Janet were in the same room as Angelo Giordano. Even more impressive is that there didn't appear to be any friction between them.

Minutes went by with me just witnessing this spectacle before Angelo walked toward me, putting his hand on my shoulder and his lips to my ear.

"I hate you," Angelo's grasp tightened and caused me to grimace. "I hate you more than anyone I have ever met before and I am going to have you killed in the worst possible way." As he stood straight, he had a sinister smile and his hand took the form of a gun, his fingers the barrel and pointed it at my head. He laughed as he made the gesture of pulling the trigger.

From behind, I heard the door open. "Sir, she just pulled in."

"Excellent." Angelo replied before turning to face Salvatore. "Let's get this over quickly."

Suddenly, Janet's voice was in my ear, "I told you that you should have picked me. Sorry, Love."

I heard the footsteps coming from down the hall, each one like my own personal death taps echoing off the walls. I wonder how many individuals had met their fate in this very room?

"The Luciano's?" My head jerked up as I heard Triela's voice. "Fathah, what's goin' on?"

I started going crazy, lurching and straining against my restraints while mumbles and groans came from behind the gag.

"Knock it off!" Angelo smacked me hard against my face. "You tried to take my daughter, you fuck!"