Atavus (20 page)

“No, Al, I lost a friend. I cannot lose my husband-friend,” she said sadly. Her eyes settled on him sitting there with a heavy heart that only she could feel its insurmountable weight. He needed help to bear the crushing boulders and someone to balance his side when he tired.

“Babe, get down.”

“No.”

That’s where Allie inherited her stubbornness he realized when dealing with her mother. "Go in the house, you’re half dressed!" He scolded, giving her an intimidating stare that had no power over a determined wife. She wore those short boxers, a lace bra and fluffy slippers. Her theatrics were comical; however, he was dead serious about going for a spin to clear his head.

“I’m going with you.”

“No you’re not, now stop the shit and go back in the house.”

She put her feet on the ground, making him believe she would obey the order and instead grabbed the passenger door. She yanked it open and flopped in the seat before Alfonzo could speak. Selange clicked her seatbelt and stared straight ahead at blackness. "We made a pact, remember?"

Blue eyes shone from the liquor. "I need to do this alone babe. It's been a long time since I've had any freedom."

"I know," she whispered because she understood completely. She also at times felt trapped in a box wanting air. She did yoga, meditated for peace and gave to worthy causes. It eased the bad they’d both done and would do to stay living.

"Get out of the car."

"No."

He growled in exasperation. "Get the fuck out of the car!"

"No."

"Babe, I've had too many drinks."

"I know. That’s why we should go inside together and sleep this night off. You’ll have a clearer head in the morning."

"Nah, I need to take a drive.” He frowned. “When I wanted to think, I’d get in my car and just cruise. I’m tired of people driving me around. I’m tired of invisible chains holding me to the ground. I’m tired of all this bad shit I do when what I want is to just come home to you and my children and simply chill tu sabe?"

"Yes, I do."

“Do you, do you really chica?”

“Yes, I feel you completely.”

He punched the dashboard, shook the steering wheel and then fell back against the seat, beating at his heart with a tight fist. “Do you know it killed me to do that to Domingo? I blacked out with rage I was so damn mad. He put a fucking gun on me…me…chica…blood…we were blood mami and he turned on me like that didn’t mean shit!”

Selange listened, the sorrow and remorse Maria wanted spilled out to his woman who sat without judgment to hear the truth she already knew. Domingo’s killing had wounded Alfonzo, too.

He grabbed hold again to the steering wheel thumping his forehead on the edge. “You’ll never know how it feels to kill someone you love…it hurts…I don’t ever want to hurt like this babe but I’ll suffer the pain to keep you and the children safe –always!”

She listened. A faint melancholy song wafted from hidden speakers in the high-end car. Things, are collected, not people. She could never replace her husband if he did something foolish believing he was so far gone, there was no turning back or nobody cared enough to follow and return him to the path.

“Parents say their hurts aloud when they’re angry and so do their children.”

Alfonzo sat erect with a barreled chest. He had heard what his wife was saying. “I love my mom and it’s killing me neña inside that I’ve hurt her and Tia –everybody.” Alfonzo exhaled.

Selange reclined and sighed. “I want to take a ride. My dad often drove around with me when I was small and I’d look out the window and fall asleep just enjoying the scenery, being with him was always so calming. He’d take me along because I wouldn’t let him walk out the apartment after I’d hear him and mom argue. I’d cry to go and he’d take me. He didn’t know I was scared, he’d leave and never come back. I’d think if you go Selange, he has to take you back home.” She wiped a tear, thinking about her dad. “I thought with me at his side, nothing bad will ever happen. I just wanted to have my family whole and my mom happy. I didn’t understand life doesn’t work like that. You can’t change everything, but there are some things that can be avoided.”

Alfonzo silenced, his eyes moved to see she’d traveled elsewhere, he listened, hearing a girl who loved her dad grieving. Her eyes were on the distant nowhere as she continued talking. “He sold that junk of a car and bought a later model. I was happy the car had heat. I even told him that and he said he loved me and my smart mouth.” Her lips twisted to accent a dimple, a characteristic they shared. “I wasn’t there for him, I wasn’t there for my mom or Shanda, but I’m here with you riding shotgun honey through all of the good and the bad. You are extremely loved and appreciated by the kids and me.  You are not the mafia or Luzo, you’re you,” she said and then turned to him with fiery eyes, trusting in him, setting aside fear to don a reckless heart. He'd bring her home -safe. "What are you waiting for? Start the damn car. Let's cruise to nirvana papi."

Damn she’s tripping!

I’m glad she loves me and all but, I was only driving to the 24-hour café in the next province. I sent a car ahead to survey the roads and to check out the place –and there’s another car behind us. Shit, I’m not that drunk, but hey, if she wants to come along and save me in her underwear, I’m not complaining. Hell, if this is the savior I get despite my bad ass, then somebody up there must be looking out.

The engine roared and Selange turned up the volume to hear the song.  The lyrics were their backseat passenger as they drove in silence, reflecting on the past, present and future, allowing the lyrics to croon their hearts.

‘Oh baby, oh baby, oh we both know the truth

If it were the real me and you…

It's too late to run away from it all,

It's too late to get away from it all,

I'm done with running so I give in to you,

This moment has caused a reaction,

Resulting in our reattachment,

Will you take me to nirvana?

I don't think this will last,

But you're here in my arms…’

Chapter Twenty-Five

Cleansed of impurities, Yosef padded nude to the bed, moved aside the pretty cover and gave a snort of gratitude at how comfortable it was. His thick arm went beneath his wife and he tugged her close to his side to plant a loving kiss to her vibrant hair without gray.

She swiveled in his arms, surprising Yosef, it was very late and he thought she slept. He wondered if the disturbance to the bed had awakened her.

“You are beautiful, no matter the hour bubbula.”

“What mischief are you up to Yosef?” she asked, unaffected by the compliment. Many men sought to wilt her with empty platitudes as if beauty encompasses every attribute and there’s nothing as important.

“Mischief?” His hand roamed, kneading her soft tush before deft fingers slid inside from the rear of her panty to stroke like a chin her outer lips before venturing further in. It should be a crime a woman aged so beautifully and bring an arousal to the young and the old. She was a weapon of a fleshy sort, dangerous and enticing. “I work. That is what I do.”

“Work is not selling women?”

Yosef laughed. “They are professional prostitutes, of age, who willingly enter into a mutual exchange. They have a commodity that brings money in order to live what they deem as luxury.” He rubbed his fingers together, smiling at the viscosity of her cum clinging to his digits. It was creamy, as Sophie is sweet. His fingers went in again deeper and she latched on unconsciously. “It is not illegal to exchange pleasure for money here in Sicily. I do not sell anything. The women are the distributors. I only receive compensation for their transport, housing and protection.”

“Organized prostituzione indoors or controlled by third parties is illegal, bello,” she said without an outward sign of her enjoyment in his touch.

Sophie had discovered Yosef’s burgeoning business, which filled a supply and demand for exotic women from every corner of the world to pleasure Mafiosi. She found his choice of operating a gentleman’s club questionable, since Yosef dealt mainly in the drug and arms business. The club and the others he scheduled to open were fronts. She had been married to a Mafioso; did Yosef think she did not have a brain?

“Do you partake, bello?” she asked and maybe she should not have. Did she really want to know whether the husband she took had a mistress? What she began to feel for Yosef was strong possession and that is not good with the untamable.

Yosef’s broad smile, displayed his sharp canines. An attractive bad man to Sophie was always the most charming.

“Ah, bubbula, you are jealous. Do not worry my shvantz enters only you. There is nothing offered; I do not already have. Besides, I do not wish to share what is yours as I will not share what is mine.”

Sophie’s eyes flashed. “Do not tell me what you have told whores in dim parlors to appease me, Yosef. Your religion does not ensure your mind or flesh are kosher. People are oxymora. We are the perfect examples of that. I am not deceived by your charm or impressed by your yarmulke made of cloth.”

“Do not offend by insulting my religious attire. Those are the harshest of words to my ears.”

Sophie sat up, her cantaloupe breasts straining the camisole and Yosef followed their movement with appreciative eyes as his saturated fingers slid out to the bed.

“You must live elsewhere. This arrangement has become unsuitable.”

The comment occurred as she put her feet to the floor and stepped out of the panty that he made her soil with his touches.

“Is that what you want?” he asked, happy that she was angry, it proved she loved him but was too proud to admit her feelings.

Sophie turned; her eyes were on his face, not the sizable erection. “Ora!”

Yosef the brute flexed forward grabbed her waist and brought her to his lap and her knees went to the bed after her legs naturally parted to give access to what she truly wanted. His toes gripped the floor and she held on to his shoulders, angry and wanting.

Yosef’s husky grumble as he inserted in Sophie resulted in an expulsion of breath from his bubbula. “I will say where I live and you will accept your husband.”

She clawed at his back as he thrust in and out without insult but affection. His teeth guided the thin strap downward on her arm and she assisted with the other, and lifted the silk over her head before caressing her breasts to tease his eyes. “Accept that this is my home, bello.” She cooed in response.

He refused to live at another residence. To hell with her demands. The tigress drew blood from his tattooed back and kissed his mouth, biting his tongue, rotating over his shvantz with equal ferocity.

No, he would not go from this woman and he made his protest known with hard fleshy insertions, spreading her cream around from tip to shaft. “Within you is where I inhabit Sophie. Evict me and we die together.” He grunted with force as the need of more escalated.

Her sexiness was lethal. “Kill me then bello and make it pleasurable,” she whispered in his ear to incite the beast. She licked his mouth, parting his lips with her tongue and inserted for him to suck as rough as his plunges.

Yosef growled, stood with her attached, twisted fists in her lovely hair and spun her to the bed with a convict’s fortitude. “Then we die tonight by passion!”

Sophie nibbled his meaty flesh and they both smiled with delight. Carlo was also strong and passionate. Yosef made her remember their love and she hungered for the old days of her youth. She saw Yosef in his officer’s clothes, saddened when she returned to Italia after pledging his love and learning her heart belonged to another.

Carlo and Yosef were men of war, hard as the world where dogs unleashed on peaceful protestors tore apart brown skins.

She grappled with Yosef, breasts feeding him her milky essence, fighting the world that brought both pleasure and pain. They understood these Yosef’s and Carlo’s of the world, how to live without rules of strangulation invented by human jailors. Inside her was the same rebellion, held impotent by a dress.

“We are one Sophie and you will find it best to work in unison!” he stated as she lifted to his chest and he thrust deeper and harder pushing her backside inward to make her gasp at the fullness of his love. “Fight me no more. Say the words of love bubbula in your tongue!”

She throbbed at his girth, and smiled at his stamina. Yosef’s concrete and steel body sought compliance. He exacted pressure to the V of her ass and impaled her so deeply she bit his chest.

He moaned in enjoyment, releasing his hold to roll her down supine on the bed. She shrieked when he roughly brought her legs up to his shoulders while digging for her core with a penile shovel.

“Tell me I am your love Sophie!”

In the heart was Carlo, yet there was room for another. She cried Yosef’s name in the dark amidst sexual thrashes. Claws followed her declaration in Italian to his skin, bleeding rakes of pleasure to the hardened felon.