The Guitarist
- 4 years ago
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HitwifeChapter 2 free porn video
I told Paul he would quit his job at Syracuse and apply for something closer, like Columbia or City University, because we had to live in the city. I wasn't going to give up my career for him and end up some two-bit hood in Buffalo!
A couple guys from Charlie's crew went with him, borrowing a truck from Mayflower since Lucky was one of their Union Reps, to bring Paul's stuff back down here. We'd keep it in storage until we found a house with enough room for us to live comfortably. That would take him a couple days, even with the guys helping. I told Charlie to make sure his boys took Paul out and got him entertained. He needed a bachelor party. Charlie grinned and said he knew what I meant, but I doubted it.
I called Jerry. He used to be a vice-cop, but got suspended for taking bribes and then finally resigned when he got caught again. Turning little people was better than doing time. Attica ain't safe for ex-cops, especially the dirty ones. Jerry was a private investigator now and did a lot of work for the Family. He did good and made three times more than he'd ever made working vice. I told him what I wanted and gave him five bills up front.
First chance I got, I called my hair dresser. Fucking Mondays. I sent Sal out to Coney to look at some guns that had gotten lost from NYPD's weapon destruction program. Over 300 pieces of all shapes and sizes that had been found, confiscated, or evidenced. We wouldn't use any, but some people in Cleveland were looking for cheap hardware to sell the kids in Chicago. Some crazy fucks in the Windy City and I didn't go near the place. They needed another Al Capone to straighten the place out, I thought, but it would be an easy buck anyway.
I put Lucky on collections with Charlie's guy. I trusted Charlie, but his boy was new and I wanted to avoid trouble before it happened. New guys are new for years, and losing so much as twenty bucks was enough to get clipped. If your short, you're skimming, don't matter if you stole it, if you lost it, if your fucking dog ate it ... If money was missing, you skimmed it. And that meant you'd been skimming all along and never got caught. Charlie liked his boy, he was his nephew, and I didn't need the trouble.
I kept Jimmy close. Not just to keep an eye on him, but because I was going to see Bert, the Wise Man for the Don. Jimmy's father had been Bert's cousin, so that made them blood. It wasn't much, but it would remind the old man that we were all Family here, and I was bringing business, not bullshit.
We went to Mazzoli's for lunch, to see Bert and find out what the Don wanted to do. Originally, I was supposed find out what happened to Yancy and make it right. Yancy wasn't a made guy, but he was one of Vic's boys. Vic the Prick was a Capo and ran Queens. We didn't like each other. He especially didn't like me being the one to find out why Yancy had lost 20kilos of coke along with his head. He was Vic's boy, so Vic should be finding out, right? But Vic wanted to be Don someday, maybe sooner than someday, and 20kilos of blow buys a lot of friends.
I'd found the cola – A small timer named Frankie Fingers had it. He'd gotten it via a whore named Simone, from Carmine Capina. He'd made his bones a few years ago and worked for Donate Pattazi, who was Capo of the Bronx. I owned Manhattan, so you see how messy all this was getting.
I really wanted to clip Carmine and that would be that. But him being a made guy was like wearing a bulletproof vest. I needed permission to do it, and that had to come from either the Don, Bert, or Pattazi. The biggest worry though, for the Don, was who gave Carmine the go ahead to hit Yancy? It had been Vic's deal, but it was the Don's coke, see? At first I figured it had to be some Cubans or Columbians, maybe even some crazy Crips from Brooklyn, who did it. But this was a Family thing. And those are always bad.
I wore a nice dress, conservative and black, cut just above the knees. I got my power with a silk blouse, blood red to match my two inch spikes. I had my face made up just right, a little shadow, a little crimson lipstick and nothing else. I had my long auburn hair pulled back, in a 75 dollar French braid. I wore real silk stockings and rubies in my ears. Bert appreciated a good-looking woman as much as the next man, but I needed his respect, not lust. He wasn't going to entertain me like a whore, so I didn't dress like a whore. I was his troubleshooter; I needed to look like the Princess of Darkness.
I put Jimmy in some black Armani, he looked good and I love watching men dress and undress. Something about it ... I wished I could have fucked him, but there wasn't time. I had my little .380 in a thigh holster, invisible beneath my skirt and tucked between my legs. It was a small gun, but reliable with a good punch. Jimmy wasn't carrying; he left his .38 in the glove compartment.
We were in a private dining room, one of several at Mazzoli's. It was nice, an Italian Gentleman's Club in Midtown Manhattan. As far as I knew I was the only female member, a fact that was not publicized and was a dubious honor at best. I was restricted from the Argentia Lounge, for example, because that was where the entertainment was. Never mind the fact that the girls working in there kicked 20% of their commissions directly to me.
Bartelmo Capris, or just Bert as he liked to be called, was sitting with Vic the Prick and Danny Pats, at a large table already crowded with plates, glasses, and all the accoutrements of an expensive lunch. A couple buttons stood around behind them, minding their manners. I walked in, rather hoping I'd have been able to see Bert alone, but hiding my disappointment rather well, I thought. I greeted Bert first, as all three men rose, Vic and Danny rather less than formally.
Bert was an old man, almost 70, but still in good health. Tall, erect and handsome, quite the ladies man in his day, and not so bad these days either. I smiled and said hello as he embraced me, kissing my cheeks and grabbing a feel of my ass. I doubted he did that with any of his other Capos. I shook hands with Vic and Danny, exchanging the perfunctory social necessities. Jimmy kissed Bert's hand and they talked about his family briefly, just enough to show that Bert still knew their names. Then Jimmy moved to stand with the other men, against the wall.
I let a waiter pour some champagne for me, took a small sip as I offered a toast to the Don's good health, and then put the glass down. That would be all the alcohol I'd be drinking.
"Tell me about this Yancy business," Bert said, without any preamble. His time was valuable, lunch or not.
"Yancy was bringing 20kilos of coke from our friends in Miami last Tuesday. He was supposed to give it to Danny's boy, Carlo, that night. Carlo never got it," I said with a shrug.
"We all know that," Vic interrupted me and I ignored him.
"Yancy turned up in Breckinridge with his head and hands gone. I guess to hide who he was or something," I snorted. "It was an amateur job. Police ID'd him from that tattoo on his chest..."
"What was it?" Bert wondered.
"The tattoo? Uh ... The Last Supper," I told him with a shrug. "So then Thursday, I got a call from a dealer in Queens, Vic's turf, who told me Frankie Fingers had come around shopping 20kilos of pure powder. What a coincidence."
I paused and took a drink of water. Vic wasn't liking some dealer from his neighborhood calling me in Manhattan. I'd hear about that later, I knew.
"I found Frankie and the coke, took him for a little ride. He got it from a locker at Grand Central. The key came from a whore in the Bronx, Danny's turf. I got her through her pimp, a guy named Louis who gave up her boyfriend, a dealer in Atlantic City named Bucky."
"What a fuckin' mess," one of the buttons muttered behind me.
"They won't say anything anymore. The whore, Simone, gave up..." I paused for dramatic effect, " ... Carmine Capina. That's where she got the key and all she knew was to give it to Frankie." I looked at Danny. "And Carmine is your boy."
"I don't believe you." Danny sat back looking at me, his arms folded across his chest. He was young, mid-thirties and had come up quick. "Carmine's a good boy, a good earner."
"I'm just telling you what I heard," I shrugged.
I motioned to Jimmy and he lit a cigarette for me while the men exchanged looks, thinking about what I'd told them.
"Carmine's got debts," I said, looking at Vic. "He's into you for six bills a week."
"What?" Danny looked at Vic and the older man shrugged.
"He picks names, not horses. What can I say?" Vic gave me a look and I smiled. He was wondering how I'd found that little tidbit out.
"He's also into our friends in Atlantic City for another six grand. The note's a gift, but only for another month. Then you're looking at nine bills a week on that." I looked at Bert. "Mr. Sciani wrote that note. He asked me to convey his respects to the Don, but he hoped you'd understand his concern."
I took another sip of water as Bert waved his fingers at that, but he knew better than any of us that we had to watch out for our friends in Atlantic City.
"If you'd like Danny, I can deal the note to you for the original six," I offered with a thin smile. "Mr. Sciani made it clear to me that he'd be happy to do that. He's in the gaming business, after all, not the collecting business."
"Made it clear ... to ... you?" Vic was staring at me. "Who the fuck do you think you are?"
"Vic..." Bert held up his hand. "How much did this Carmine send up last week?"
Danny thought about it. "About twelve bills. He's got some girls, a couple dealers. His crew works good." He looked around the table. "I'll talk to him. Find out what's going on."
"That's my boy got hit, I'll do the talking." Vic leaned on the table. "Something ain't right with this whole deal."
Bert nodded. "Rachael, you talk to him." The other two men started to protest but Bert held up his hand. "Just talk."
"Bert, you don't believe this..." Danny stared at me. I'd dropped a lot of bad news on his lap. We got along okay usually, but that could change real quickly too.
"Danny, I believe its time to eat ... But I think I'd rather have lunch alone, you two are giving me indigestion." He looked at Vic and Danny and we all started to get up. "Rachael, why don't you stay? I could use some pleasant company."
Vic didn't look at me as he got his man and left. Danny stared at me a long time before he gave Bert a hug and left with his boy. Bert's two men, standing with Jimmy, relaxed noticeably and so did I, deciding I could have another sip of champagne.
"They're going to think we're plotting something, Bert." I shook my head with a wry smile.
"They're going to think we're fucking too, so why don't we make them half right?" The old man pushed his chair back from the table and patted his knee like he was calling a dog.
I stood up, thrusting my hips out a little and drinking my champagne. "Okay, so what shall we plot about?"
Bert laughed and his lively gray eyes twinkled. "I am happy to see you, Rache, even if you are full of bad news."
I put my right foot up on the chair I'd been sitting in and pulled my skirt up, above the garter of my stocking. "It's only bad news if it's true." I smiled and removed my small holster, setting my gun down on the table. "And if it's true, then I get to pay a visit Queens, right?"
I walked over, letting Bert's wrinkled but still strong hands touch me, unbuttoning my dress. "You're sure it's Vic then?" He undressed me slowly, carefully and let each piece of clothing fall with a whisper to the carpet.
"Not a hundred percent," I admitted. "But I'm sure it's not Danny."
Bert pulled my panties down, leaving my stockings in place. "Beautiful," he whispered. "How do you know it isn't Danny?"
"Because..." I sighed as he slipped two bony fingers across my slit, finding me already growing moist with excitement, " ... I don't want to kill him."
Bert laughed again. "You bloodthirsty bitch!" He pushed me down. "Suck an old man's cock back to life so I can fuck you properly."
I laughed too. "Bring me an old man then."
I sank to my knees happily for the Don's Consigliore, his most trusted advisor and oldest friend, if anyone really had friends in our business. He might have been pushing 70, but Bert's cock didn't know it. That big dick sprang immediately to life as I wrapped my delicate fingers around it, feeling the warmth beneath his smooth skin. It was a little wrinkled, sure, and nested in a thick patch of silver pubic hair, but it looked delicious.
I opened my mouth wide and took the pinkish head into my mouth. I always gave Bert the best blowjobs I knew how and I played with him gently, teasing and tickling the underside with my tongue. I kept my mouth open too, knowing how much the old man liked to see his virility. I kissed the sides, licking and sucking sweetly all the way down to his heavy balls, bathing them with my mouth and then eagerly returning to suck the head once more.
Bert put a hand on the back of my head, urging me on as I bobbed my head up and down on his hard penis. "Do you know how I keep that prick so hard, Rachael?" he asked and I knew the answer; he'd told me many times.
"Mmmmpph-uummph." I said, taking him as deep as I could, so his pubes tickled my nose.
"Virgins!" He laughed and so did the three guys watching us. "Seriously. Virgin blood, Rachael. I anoint that prick every week and it just stays hard as rock."
"Mmmmpph!" I agreed. Swallowing spit and precum as it flooded my mouth. I was sucking harder now and Bert was really enjoying it.
"Hard to find virgins these days though. Women that is. Kids..." he made a sound of disgust. "About 34, I've found, is the perfect age for a virgin. A woman that age doesn't just want sex ... she needs it. Do anything to get it too. Virgins keep my prick young for sluts like you."
Bert was talking to me like we were just sitting around, shooting the breeze. I worked my mouth harder, trying to make it the best blowjob he'd ever had. That was probably impossible though. I mean, the guy had been getting head before my grandfather was out of diapers. I jerked his cock with my hand while I just sucked the head, using every trick my tongue knew to get him to moan, just once.
"I remember when you were a virgin, Rachael. All sweet and innocent. Popped you right after you popped..." Bert searched his memory. "Hey Ritchie, who was the jackoff Rache popped the night I took her cherry?"
One of his boys, I didn't see which, answered, "It was that Irish prick, Junior Riley, Boss."
I could have told him that, but my mouth was full.
"Oh yeah, Riley. What a vicious little bastard. You did him with that little girly gun, didn't ya, Rachael?" He didn't wait for an answer but pulled my head down so I could deep throat him again. "And there you were, fresh out of charm school, with your leather pants and those big gold earrings you used to wear. With Riley's brains all over your face! Goddamn what a mess! You're somethin' Rachael. Like God broke the mold."
"Mmmpphh ... ummmph!" I agreed and pushed my tongue out under his balls while I sucked.
"Everybody thought you were one of those lesbians. But when you spread those soft thighs and gave me that sexy smile." He patted me on the head. "I knew you were just savin' it up for me."
"Mmmpphhhh ... ummph!" I tried to nod, because that was about the truth of it.
Everybody knew Bert liked virgins, but he wouldn't touch a girl until she was 18 and you had to admire that. Bert might have been helping to run a criminal empire built on the backs of little girls as young as 12 or 13, but he'd never touch one himself. I'd had a hard time too, keeping my virginity until I was 18, but it had been worth it! I'd gotten my cherry popped by the best!
"Rachael, my little troubleshooter, lie down on that table there and let me crack that peanut of yours." He laughed and I pulled my mouth away with one last hard suck. That was what Bert had said the first time he'd fucked me.
"How many men you whacked, Ritchie?" he asked, watching me move seductively, smiling and licking my lips.
"Six, Boss."
"How about you, Lenny?" he asked his other boy.
"Nine men, Boss"
"Jimmy?" Bert walked between my thighs. Gazing at my widespread legs and rubbing his wrinkled old hands along my calves.
"Men? Seven, Mr. Capris."
Bert put the head of his dick on top of my mound, rubbing it back and forth over my flushed skin while I grinned. I took it in my hand, feeling the shaft throbbing nicely, and rubbed it lower, across my slit where it belonged.
"How about you, Rachael?" He paused. "That's not fair ... How many women have you killed?" He thrust his cock inside me slowly.
"Oh!" I gave a little grunt as he stretched me a little. "Th-Thirteen ... Mmmmm ... That feels good!" I hooked my legs around him and sighed as he started stroking me.
"They all deserve it, Rachael?" He rubbed my thighs.
"Well, you know what ... uh! They say..." I grinned up at him. "Deservin's got nothing to do with it."
I stared up at the old man as he fucked me, enjoying it almost as much as I enjoyed the fact that this was something he couldn't do with the boys. Being the only made female in the Family definitely had some unique advantages. I started moaning as Bert started fucking me harder, it was just unbelievable the patience and power of that old man. He wasn't even breaking a sweat and he had me on the edge of a screaming good orgasm. Whatever his prick was doing in there, it was good.
"Maybe you should take it easy on her, Boss," one of his boys said. "I heard she's getting married."
"Is that right?" Bert looked down at me shaking his head. "You just don't seem..." he slammed his cock in me hard and rotated his hips so I finally did cum, shuddering violently and biting my lip with a whimper, " ... like the marrying kind."
I gasped for air, managing to nod and tell him it was true. "Oh yessss..."
"Well then, that's good news. Might even settle you down a little," he chuckled. "You don't mind if I cum inside you ... Do you, Rachael? I know married women can be a little sensitive about things like that."
I didn't say anything; I was too busy cumming again. "Ohhhhh ... God!" was about the best I could manage.
"I'll take that as a yes then." Old Bert fucked me hard and fast. I hoped he didn't have a heart attack, because I'd probably get clipped if he did. But I'd have such a rep as the one who whacked Bert Capris that it would almost be worth a bullet.
I came three or four times really good before Bert finally gave up his load, shooting his sperm deep inside me.
"There's a little wedding gift for ya, Rachael." He jammed himself inside me hard. "And a little something extra for the hubby!" He laughed and withdrew, breathing hard. "You bring him around some time. Ritchie will set it up. I'd like to meet him."
I was soaked with sweat and my pussy felt wonderfully sore and full of Bert's cum. I nodded and smiled. "I'm sure he'd like meeting you too, Bert," I breathed.
"Hey, I just thought of something." Bert zipped up his pants. "You're a made girl, we need to give you a bachelor party ... er, bachelorette party, I should say. Ritchie, set that up too. Something special for our girl here."
"Sure thing, Boss." Our three button men laughed, talking amongst themselves.
"You watch Vic, Rache." Bert looked at me as I sat up weakly. "He didn't just fall of the boat."
"I already got him," I nodded. "He's gonna move, Bert."
"When?"
"Soon as I find Carmine."
"If you're wrong, it's gonna be your ass."
"When's the last time I was wrong?" I stared at him. "Give the Don my respects."
Bert looked at me and nodded, leaving with his two boys while I sat there naked on the table with the rest of Bert's lunch. "Got a smoke, Jimmy?"
He lit it for me and passed it over. "What do you think, Rache?"
"I think Bert's getting old, Jimmy. He's starting to see what he wants to see." I looked at my boy and he nodded. If Bert had been on top of it Carmine and Vic would already be dead. It almost made me wonder if the old man didn't have something playing.
"Fuck." I looked down between my legs.
"Whatsa matter, Rache?"
"We gotta stop and get some pads on the way back." All that pounding had started my period.
"Uh ... Sure, Boss." Jimmy was stifling a little chuckle and I just sighed.
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