Mafia Aphrodite Read online

  ‘Didn’t I say no more roses?’

  Donnas stepped in and gave her a knowing smile. Nineteen, just out of Pass Christian High School, Donna worked part-time, taking summer classes at Jefferson Davis Business College, trying to learn how to run the Macintosh on her desk. Rail thin, even thinner than Lucy was when she was in grammar school, Donna was pretty with two-tone hair, part natural brown, part fuchsia.

  Lucy waited, hand on her hip.

  Donna shrugged. ‘He’s so persistent. I think he’s cute.’

  Lucy turned to The Guag. ‘How did it get past your men?’

  His eyes narrowed. ‘It’s flowers.’

  Lucy told Donna, ‘Take them home with you. It smells like a funeral parlour around here.’

  The Guag took a seat in front of the desk while Lucy checked herself out in the full length mirror. She wore a knee-length, black wrap skirt today, full, not as obvious that it opened all the way in front, and a sleeveless red blouse with a high collar. She’d pinned her hair up on the sides with barrettes again and wore red lipstick today.

  ‘I saw your papa earlier and reminded the new doctor about the do-not-resuscitate order. He says Big Luke is slipping. His organs are shutting down.’ The Guag spoke softly as if that would cushion the words.

  Lucy had already spoken to the doctor but said nothing to The Guag’s statement.

  ‘What about this Al Racconto?’ she changed the subject. ‘Kansas City, right?’

  The Guag pulled out his note pad. The black suit he wore wasn’t double-breasted for a change. ‘OK, today we have Al “The Thrill” Racconto, another capo. His uncle is the Don. He’s very good with the business side of the Racconto family, runs most of their legitimate holdings.

  Lucy didn’t want to think about her father and was glad The Guag started reciting from his notebook. She didn’t listen too carefully. She’d memorised the data on “The Thrill”. She wondered what tonight would be like. The sex had been so good so far. She couldn’t stop thinking about it. She’d never had so much sex in such a short period and all it did was make her crave more. Maybe she had a touch of nymphomania? Or maybe, it was the touch of the Goddess of Desire.

  The word ‘Dartmouth’ brought Lucy back.

  ‘What was that?’ she asked The Guag as she moved around the desk to sit in the captain’s chair.

  ‘I never saw your papa’s face beam as proudly as the day we watched you cross that stage and get your diploma. The first person in the entire family to graduate from college. An Ivy League school to boot. All your papa talked about on the flight up and back was your degree in Finance, magna cum laude. Minor in Economics, you’re a natural to run the business side of the family business.’

  The Guag could probably recite my grade point average.

  ‘Did any of these “candidates” go to college?’ She’d had little, if any, small talk with either of the first two.

  ‘They all went to college,’ The Guag answered. ‘None of them finished.’ The Guag rolled his eyes. ‘Actually “The Thrill” lasted two years at UCLA. More than the others.’ He closed his notebook. ‘We don’t want them for their brains.’ He stood. ‘That’s what we have you for.’ Big smile on his way out.

  Jesus H. Christ. Lucy stepped over to the window and opened it, peeping through the screen at the beach and water. A wasp-figured woman with platinum blonde hair was modelling for a man with a Polaroid camera. Her laughter echoed above the sound of the surf. They didn’t seem to care who watched them camping it up. She looked like a woman from a Fellini movie.

  For a moment Lucy was reminded of another Fellini movie. She couldn’t remember the title but it was about a not-so-glamorous woman who had vigore nasosto, brio nascosto – hidden vigour, hidden liveliness. The liveliness came out when the woman learned to have fun with several different men. The vigour was sexual. Lucy laughed at herself. She had hidden vigour, all right. Only it wasn’t hidden anymore.

  When Al “The Thrill” Racconto stepped in, another six footer with dark brown hair and brown eyes, Lucy could only think, this one has a scar. A two inch scar marred The Thrill’s Robert Redford-like square jaw-line, but it gave his pretty-boy face some character, some depth. She liked the scar immediately and the polite way Al bowed his head when he asked if he could sit.

  Is he really this shy, or is it put-on?

  He stared at her with unblinking eyes, but it wasn’t a stare-down. He seemed surprised.

  ‘Something wrong?’

  ‘No. I want to thank you for calling me in for this second interview.’

  ‘Second?’

  ‘I must have passed Mr Guagliardo’s first interview.’

  ‘Oh.’

  He looked furtively into her eyes and she noticed how big and expressive his eyes were. Eyelashes any woman would envy. He looked away, at the window behind her now. He cleared his throat and said, ‘You’re not what I pictured.’

  ‘What did you picture?’

  ‘Well … I thought you’d be ugly, funny-smelling with a big nose, hair-lip, maybe a mole the size of Rhode Island or just a hunchback. That’s why you had to search for a mate. But, heck, you could have any man you wanted no matter how rich you were.’ He got up and then sat right back down, thumbing the chair’s arms nervously. ‘Any Sicilian man.’

  ‘Funny-smelling?’

  ‘You never know.’

  Lucy got up and went around the desk, positioning herself between him and the desk. She put her hands on the chair’s arms and leaned forward, brushing her long hair against his face. ‘Do I smell funny?’

  ‘Oh, no! You smell nice.’

  She stood up. ‘I should. I’ll have you know I’m freshly showered. I shower every day and the perfume is Venetian. Direct from Venice. Parisians aren’t the only ones who know how to make perfume.’

  His smile was shy and Lucy wondered, so she asked, ‘How old are you?’

  ‘Twenty-four. I tried growing a moustache to look older but it looked like soot.’

  Lucy leaned back against the desk and crossed her ankles. The skirt was too full to open by itself, so she had to help it by reaching down to pull up her right stocking, the skirt opening nicely.

  ‘These things tend to work their way down,’ she said, casually pulling it up all the way to her white panties. She did the left one next and looked up to see Al staring at her crotch. She felt a tingle as her heartbeat increased.

  ‘I thought we’d have dinner,’ she said, sitting up on the desk now, opening her skirt to her waist.

  He tried not to look for a moment, then just looked and grinned. ‘Dinner? Sure. Anything.’

  ‘Where are you staying?’

  ‘The Bleu Marine.’

  Lucy leaned back on the desk and let him get another long look before climbing down. He reached to help her, touching her hand but let go as she needed no help. He stood and seemed nervous.

  ‘Um, is Ames Skye close to here?’

  ‘Not far at all. Between DeLisle and Kiln.’ She went back to the captain’s chair and sat. ‘I haven’t been there since I was a little girl.’ A memory of the Ames Skye Amusement Park flashed in her mind. She’d heard it was renovated a few years ago, with the addition of a water park, probably just a big pool. ‘Why do you ask?’

  ‘I went there when I was six. That’s how I got my nickname.’

  ‘The Thrill?’

  ‘I wouldn’t get off the roller coaster. They had to pry my hands off the bar. My mom gave me the nickname.’

  Lucy laughed a little too loudly and closed her mouth right away.

  ‘I guess it is kinda funny.’

  ‘No,’ she said. ‘I was laughing at myself. I thought ‘The Thrill’ meant something else entirely.’

  ‘Most people do. But that’s as thrilling as I get.’ Again the humble look, hands in the pockets now.

  ‘Why don’t we go?’

  ‘To the Skye?’

  ‘I’ll pick you up at three and we’ll spend the afternoon there and have dinner after.�
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  ‘Sure. It’s a date.’ Al “The Thrill” Racconto slipped out of the office and John “The Guag” slipped in.

  ‘So, how’d you like “The Thrill”?’

  ‘Know how he got that nickname?’

  ‘No, actually.’ The Guag sat and looked at her curiously.

  ‘As you can guess, a woman gave him that moniker.’

  ‘Womaniser, huh? That might not be good.’

  Lucy kept her face deadpan. ‘I can handle it.’

  The Guag gave her a long stare before he said, ‘Actually, that might not be bad. You don’t have to fall madly in love with a guy who’ll run around on you. Keep it business.’ When Lucy didn’t chuckle with him, he added, ‘At least you know he’s not gay.’

  Where did that come from?

  ‘He doesn’t look … tough.’

  ‘What about the scar?’

  ‘I hear it happened at an amusement park when he was a kid.’

  Lucy laughed loudly, which made The Guag join in, albeit a little confused.

  Al ‘The Thrill’ bought a pair of light-weight white slacks, a tan linen shirt and white canvas tennis shoes in the mall attached to the casino. A new pair of extra dark Ran Ban sunglasses completed the outfit. He ran some styling gel through his hair to keep it from being so fly-away and looked in the mirror and saw Andy Garcia. Well, not as good looking but not bad.

  At ten to three, he stepped outside the front entrance of the casino’s hotel and was immediately greeted by the double-digit humidity to go along with the 98 degree temperature. Kansas City had heat waves, but never like this. He stepped back into the hotel and stood just inside the glass doors so he wouldn’t be all sweaty when Lucy arrived.

  At exactly three, a black Cadillac with blacked-out windows pulled up. A huge man with blue-black skin stepped out of the front passenger side, came straight to the door, which was opened by a doorman, turned and said, ‘Mr Racconto?’

  ‘Call me Al.’

  ‘I’m Earl. Miss Incanto’s in the car.’

  Earl opened the back door for him and Al slid in next to Lucy Incanto sitting in a white sleeveless blouse with a high collar, the top two buttons of the blouse undone, and a short pink skirt, white sandals. When she leaned over to reach into a small refrigerator, he got a peek of her white panties, different than the ones she’d worn earlier, these had sheer panels between white panels. He cock stiffened immediately.

  Lucy pulled two bottles of spring water from the fridge and passed him one.

  ‘Don’t want to get dehydrated in the heat at the Skye.’

  Al opened his bottle and took a hit of the chilled water. Tiny slices of ice cooled his throat immediately and the car’s AC helped.

  Leaning back with her legs crossed now, a mischievous gleam in her eyes, Lucy said, ‘So how did you get the scar?’

  ‘Picket fence. I was nine. Tried to climb it in the rain, slipped. Everyone’s been after me ever since to get plastic surgery. I’m not that vain, I guess.’

  ‘I like it,’ she said. ‘You’re too good-looking not to have it.’

  That seemed to make sense. At least she thought he was good looking and not too pretty, which plagued him when he was young. Since he started shaving and his face filled out a little, he lost some of that pretty-boy look.

  The Cadillac turned off Highway 90, which ran next to the gulf, into the piney woods common to south Mississippi. They passed tourist stores, piles of conch shells outside, alligator skins tacked to plywood, couple stuffed raccoons.

  Al turned back to Lucy. ‘When I was little some of the boys called me raccoon, thinking that’s what my name meant in Italian.’

  ‘Racconto means ‘story’ doesn’t it?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  Neither had to mention the obvious – there were no raccoons in Italy.

  ‘That’s how Cat Island got its name,’ Lucy said as the Cadillac continued through more piney woods.

  ‘Cat Island?’

  ‘One of our barrier islands, about a mile off the coast. Back in the 1700s, a British ship passed it and the sailors saw it overrun by these grey cats with striped tails and named the island.’

  They crossed a river named Wolf and within sight of I-10, the Ames Skye Amusement Park loomed on their left. It looked smaller and older when they parked the Caddy in a shell lot with only a dozen vehicles, pick-ups mostly.

  Stepping into the bright sunshine, Al put his sunglasses back on as Lucy donned a pair of retro cat-eyed sunglasses. Her bodyguards, which Al noted were twins, or should be, wore reflective, standard-issue, gangster glasses and identical white polo shirts worn out over black pants, probably to conceal their handguns. Al was unarmed, deferring to the Incantos protection while in Mississippi.

  One of the bodyguards paid for all four and they passed through a wooden archway with ‘Ames Skye Amusements’ in lights above. The strong smell of pine faded, replaced by the scent of mildew and hot dogs bubbling in a cauldron on the left, manned by a woman with few teeth in her mouth, smiling at Al to show him. By the time they reached the roller coaster, Al’s face dripped perspiration and the back of his shirt was already stuck to his skin. Lucy didn’t seem to perspire. The faces of her bodyguards were glossy in the heat.

  ‘Kinda dead, isn’t it?’ said Al.

  ‘I’m sure it picks up after dark when it’s cooler.’ Lucy looked around, catching the eye of several roustabouts who seemed to like what they were gawking at. A pair of young rednecks, in their early twenties but acting like horny-teenagers, checked Lucy out in her short skirt as Al followed her up the ramp of the roller coaster, called the Johnny Psycho. Al could see her panties as they went up and so could the rednecks, who hurried to sit in the front seat, Lucy and Al in the seat behind. Lucy’s skirt rose as the bar went down over their laps. The men in front glanced back as the coaster started.

  Johnny Psycho wasn’t the biggest coaster, and the wooden railing, besides needing a new coat of paint, seemed a little shaky, which added to the excitement as the coaster crawled up to the first and tallest rise. It was steep and as tall as the Ferris wheel and when Al was little, seemed like he was atop the Empire State building. Hovering momentarily at the apex, Al saw they were above the tree line of the piney woods, then in a blur they barrelled downhill at a breath-taking speed. The rednecks let go of the bar. Lucy’s skirt flew past her waist and Al felt his cock pressed hard against the rail, sending a stabbing pain through him. He had to adjust as the rednecks turned around to get a good look at Lucy’s panties. Al could see her dark pubic hair through the sheer panels of the panties, which made his cock throb. Lucy glanced down and laughed over the thunder of the roller coaster.

  ‘Wanna go again?’ she asked as Johnny Psycho eased to a stop to allow a family to climb in behind them. The elderly roustabout who ran the roller coaster came to check everyone’s roller-bar. Lucy hadn’t bothered to push down her skirt and he got an eye full, smiling widely as he reminded them it was pay-one-price at the Skye and they could ride the coaster until they passed out.

  They rode it three more times, Lucy’s skirt never going down, the rednecks, the roustabout and Al getting a good view before she led Al over to the Ferris wheel, which rose slowly, creeping along. She draped a leg over his as they went up, sending a shudder though his cock.

  ‘Enjoying the view?’

  He looked at the canopy of trees and she laughed.

  ‘Not them. My panties.’

  ‘Everyone is.’

  ‘Good. That’s the idea.’ She leaned over and brushed his lips with hers. He slipped his hand to her thigh and she opened her legs slightly. Up and down went the Ferris wheel, Al massaging Lucy’s pussy through her panties, pulling his hand away as they neared the ground, returning it as their rose into the air.

  ‘This is nice,’ she purred. Her panties were wet by the time they climbed off.

  ‘I noticed a water park of sorts,’ she said as she led him away.

  He noticed the rednecks were trailing, havi
ng picked up a couple young black men along the way. Lucy’s bodyguards followed, both looking around seriously. A breath of damp air washed over Al as they moved around a kiddy ride toward a large pool with a faux water fall and two big water slides. The pool was at the back end of the property with woods beyond a hurricane fence. Two families were in the pool, several kids going up and down the two slides.

  Lucy stepped out of her sandals and sat at the pool’s edge, her legs in the water as she said, ‘That’s better.’

  Al pulled off his shoes and socks and started to roll up his pants legs.

  Lucy looked over her shoulder and said, ‘Let’s get bathing suits.’ She scooped up her sandals and took Al’s hand, leading them to a shop attached to a café, of sorts. It was a small enclosure with clothing hanging on the walls, T-shirts mostly and some bathing suits.

  ‘Is there a dressing room?’ Lucy asked the attendant, a heavy-set woman reading a glamour magazine. The woman pointed to the right without looking up. It was a closet. Lucy took a yellow two piece in and a white one piece, coming out a few minutes later shaking her head.

  Al found a black bathing suit, boxer shorts style, that fit him well.

  Lucy had no luck. None of the suits fitted and she finally settled on a T-shirt. The first was too big, the second, white with Troy University stencilled in dark red over her right breast, didn’t quite cover her panties. He noticed she still had her bra on beneath it as he went to pay and found the bodyguards had already paid.

  ‘Don’t want it to look like a wet T-shirt contest, with kids out there.’ Lucy readjusted her sunglasses before taking his hand as they moved back to the pool, bodyguards and Lucy’s fans in tow.

  Al looked back at the four fans and told Lucy, ‘They’re enjoying the view.’ The bottom of her ass peeked out from under the T-shirt.

  ‘If they haven’t seen panties before, then let 'em gape.’

  The boys gaped and so did the lone man left in the pool after the other family with the kids left. Lucy slipped into the pool, sunglasses still on, and went under. Al joined her, glad he hadn’t bought a Speedo bathing suit with his cock as thick as an angry snake now. The pool was unoccupied. They swam to the shallow area as the rednecks, down to their shorts, started going down the slide.