Mafia one night stand

"PHIL, I am scheduling a meeting between you and Mr Peter tomorrow."

"Why?," I protested, surprised. She seemed to be forgetting something.

"He is due a delivery," she said, unmoved by my protest.

"But I told you about my meeting with the Mayor at Los Angeles."

"That's the reason I'm sending you there."

"How? We both know Mr Peter has no business in L.A.," I reminded her, just in case she had forgotten.

"Well, he used to have no business in L.A., but..."

"Can't you send someone else!" I Interrupted her. I just wasn't ready for a meeting with Peter. I guess I had no choice.

"You already know Peter is a high risk client. I can't trust someone else," she had said.

My mother always triumphs. She would never take no for an answer. Not that I didn't understand what she meant by 'high risk client,' but I had an important meeting with the Mayor...and he didn't like to be kept waiting.

"You f*cking owe me, Phil," he had angrily said to me when I told him I won't make it early for our meeting.

I knew what he meant by that, and I obliged...not that I had a choice.

Unable to convince my dear mother to send someone else, I packed whatever I needed for the trip, got a few of my men ready and headed off to the airport the following morning. It was going to be a long and hard day, I had presumed. I seldom traveled, except on business trips.

Having successfully scaled the security checks without any hitch, I sat down, ready for the punishing six-hour flight to Los Angeles. I had barely had a break when I noticed the beautiful eyes that were fixed on me. I swear, these ladies were nothing but gorgeous. They could melt any heart, their eyes. Not that the stare was unusual...who wouldn't want a piece of me...but I just wasn't in the mood to have my eyes fixed on anyone. I had more important things to take care of.

The flight had not been up in the air for long when I dozed off. How I needed it. I had barely had enough sleep the previous night. My father's Ill health had really got me worried. He had been diagnosed with Alzheimer's disease and, according to the various medical experts we visited, his had gotten to a stage where it was incurable. We all knew he was going to die, but no one was ready for it. Even in his sick bed, where he had been confined to for the better of two years, he still controlled business.

How I admired him.

My family must surely be the most famous in New York City. Anyone in the city who claimed not to have heard of the Brandons must surely be a newbie. We practically controlled the City the way Adolf Hitler controlled Europe in his prime. To the outside world, we were a very successful furniture producing family, but we were much more than their eyes met. Only those special business partners knew what we were about. Even at that, we were all bound by the oath of secrecy. No one dared to go public about us.

Finally, we arrived L.A by noon. Mr Peter's men were already waiting for us at the airport. Smartly suited in black, with sunshades that made it nearly impossible to know what they looked like, they appeared stone faced, as if they were ready for combat. Ushering us into the waiting black van, they sped off.

After about 15 minutes of non-stop driving, we finally arrived at our destination. The security men at the entrance thoroughly searched us, to ensure that we had no weapon on us.

"You may go in," their leader, a broad shouldered man, said, satisfied.

"Hello, Phil," Mr Peter said, exchanging hands with me.

"Hello, Peter. It's been a while. You don't look bad," I remarked.

"You can say that again, my friend. How's my old friend putting up. It must really be tough for him."

"He's in good spirits." I didn't have the patience to discuss family matters with a man of Peter's standing. I just wanted to get done with business and get out of his sight.

"Here," he said, offering me a glass of whisky. Continuing, he said, "Where's the package?"

"Here," I said, giving him the black suitcase I had held in my hands.

"Complete," he said, having examined it. He had one of his men had over to me a suitcase which contained some cash.

"It was nice doing business with you. Thank you for the drink."

"It's nothing. My best wishes to my old friend. I wish him a smooth exit."

"Thank you." Quickly, my men and I took exit in a waiting van.

Quickly, I dialled the Mayor's line, but it was not connecting. I tried it again, but it was the same.

"Damn!"

This meant that, much to my frustration, I would have to come back to L.A if I couldn't get in touch with him before I went back to New York.

"Take us to Santa Monica," I said to the driver. Instead of just flying back home without seeing the Mayor, I decided we would buy some time by having a nice time out at the beach.

No place appealed more to my tired body than Santa Monica.

Clean, with super-wide, soft, sandy beaches; an amusement spot; a beachfront boardwalk, amazing restaurants and restrooms, Santa Monica was equal to none.

The beaches have an old school, East Coast feel, with the addition of bike paths and plenty of outdoor exercise areas. The classy motels made for more fun.

We got checked in to two rooms, with my men lodged opposite mine. Not that I feared for my life, but, considering my status, I thought it wise to carry extra bodies along.

Since I needed to cool off, I headed straight for the beach. Dressed in my swimming shorts, I looked f*cking hot,I knew it. Just as I stepped out, my eye came in contact with hers.

"Who is she?," I thought to myself. She made beauty look so underrated. "Damn!"

She was damn hot! My heart raced! I didn't know I had stood at that spot for way over one minute! I was brought back to reality when a couple of ladies came racing towards me, either wanting me to sign an autograph on their flashy boobs or wanting a photoshoot with me. Some even offered to swim with me. I wasn't interested. Before I could finally free myself from their grips, she had melted away from my eyes. I looked for her everywhere I could, but there didn't seem to be a sight of her anywhere. Like angels, she had disappeared. Frustrated, I went back inside, having lost any appetite there was to swim. The thought of her had invaded my space.

"A glass of whisky, please," I said to the bar man. "Another glass!" I had gulped the first as soon as he had brought it..

"Hello, handsome." A young lady said as she approached me, all smiles. "I see you're all alone. You don't seem familiar. First time?"

"Yes." I wasn't interested in whatever she had to say. My mind and thought were glued to the strange lady I had met earlier.

"Business or pleasure?"

"Business."

"I'm Lucia. If you need anything, I'm here," she said, seductively caressing my skin. Seeing that I clearly wasn't interested in what she was selling, she went back to her seat.

After five extra glasses, I stumbled to my room, drunk. I couldn't even switch on the light. My body was on fire. Sex was all I thought of, even in my drunk state. Luckily, a savior walked in.

We both seemed to want the same thing; we were both horny. First, I gently brought my mouth down hers, and engulfed her lips in a harsh kiss. She curled up round me and returned the kiss more passionately. In a moment, my hands gently travelled down her smooth skin. I got to her hips and stopped at her zipper. Quickly, I unzipped her trouser and pulled it off. Like a hungry lion, I climbed her, devouring every part of her, with her moaning doing little to stop me. I don't know how long it lasted, but it was so intense, and I didn't want it to stop.

It must have been a long night.

The Mayor's call had woken me up very early the next morning. I had to quickly meet with him.

My sex partner...or whoever she was...was still asleep. I put on the light! I was about to be shocked.

Lying down there was the strange lady at the beach who had got my heart racing endlessly. "How!?" I whispered to myself, dazed.

I wanted to wake her up, but I gave it a second thought. Quickly, I wrote a note and dropped it on the small table. I hoped she would get in touch with me as I took exit with my men.

"Jesus! What am I doing here!?"

The whole place looked so strange to me. Not a thing looked familiar, except for the surroundings of Santa Monica.

"This is definitely not my room."

I had woken up feeling so much pain, but I had no idea what it was about. I was more concerned with the fact that I was in a room that didn't look like the one I had lodged in. My mind was saved the stress of wandering when I stumbled on a letter on the other side of the bed. Quickly, I grabbed it.

"It must have the answer to my question," I thought to myself.

Surely, it did.

"I had to leave for a while because I have some business to catch up with. Please make sure to wait

for me to come back. Also, last night was fun. Even though we were both drunk, we definitely had the best moment of our lives."

"...we definitely had the best moment of our lives..." I read that part again and quickly looked at my beneath. I didn't seem to realize I had been naked. I saw blood stains on the bed sheet.

"What the fuck!" I just didn't know what to say. I had let myself down; I had allowed a stranger take my virginity.

I was broken.

Gradually, I started recalling the events of the previous night. After I concluded business with Mr Scott, I had gone back to Santa Monica to cool off, since I was going back to New York the next day. I met a group of ladies whom I had played games with by the beach side before going back inside to have a glass of whisky. One glass turned to a couple. I don't even know why, considering I didn't like drinking much. I don't remember clearly what happened afterwards, but I know I was drunk and staggered towards a walkway before walking into a dark room. I must have mistaken it for mine.

I walked into a trap! And now, I have allowed a stranger take my virginity. Anger or hurt, I had no idea which I felt most...maybe I felt both.

Even if I couldn't hold back the tears, I had no one to blame. If only I hadn't gotten drunk.

"I don't really think going to L.A is a good idea. I just have a bad feeling about it," my best friend, Laura, had earlier advised.

I should have listened to her.

Quickly, I cleaned myself up and walked quietly to my room. Packing my luggage, I left, boarding a taxi to the airport.

My heart raced!

I felt used and broken. I couldn't help but cry as we journeyed.

A lot of thought ran through my dismembered mind at will as I continually stared at the letter the stranger had dropped, but none hurt more than knowing that he had had a piece of me. He even assumed I enjoyed it. Like a flash, my heart raced to Bridge, my boyfriend. We had been together for nearly two years and, in that time, I never allowed him have sex with me. I had explained to him that sex was a commitment I wasn't ready to make. I didn't want to be used and trashed. Like the gentleman that he was, he respected my decision, a trait that was rare to find amongst men in America. He knew I was a virgin, but how was I going to tell him that I, in my drunkenness, had let myself loose to a complete stranger. He also knew I wasn't given to much drink. Would he even believe me?

My cell phone beeped, jolting me from my endless thoughts. Someone had sent me a text message.

"I need $800 now. Thank you." It was my mother, Catherine. I can't even tell why I kept referring to her as my mother. She was everything a real mother wasn't. She did nothing but set for me the worst example of motherhood. The only time she called or texted me was whenever she was broke, or was in some trouble.

Massively addicted to gambling, she always ensured she left me huge debts to pay. She felt entitled to whatever I had, as if I owed her such loyalty. I would work my socks off only for her to squander it. She was compounding my woes, but I was having none of it.

I picked up my cell phone and sent her a text message.

"I don't have any money to give you. Go sort yourself out," I had ended, visibly upset. I loved her, but I really disliked her way of life; it clearly was at odds with mine.

Hardly had I dropped my cell phone when I got a text from her... "If you love me, prove it," it read.

She knew my weak point...and she had taken advantage of it. I couldn't say no to her, even though I wanted to. Feeling defeated, I called someone.

..."Jessica..."

"Laura," I replied,trying hard not to sound how I felt.

"Are you okay?," she asked.

"Yes," I lied.

"Sure?." She didn't seem satisfied. She knew me better than anyone, and, obviously, she knew my voice betrayed me when I said I was okay.

"I got a text message from my mother."

"Another cash?." She already knew it was only on the basis of money that Catherine would call or text me.

"Yes, but I don't have it." "How much?"

"$800."

"I'll send it to her, but we really need to put a stop to her unbearable addiction. You can't keep paying for her sins, you know."

"I do, but I'm just tired. I don't even know what to do anymore. This shit is getting me f*ucked up."

"You'll be fine, baby girl," she assured me. "Thank you; thank you for the cash. I owe you."

"Big time!" We both managed to laugh.

"See you soon," I said.

"I can't wait. Hope you got my favorite?"

"What if I didn't?." We both laughed. She knew I wouldn't forget it. Luckily for me, I had bought it the previous day. Laura, what a friend she is. She is the only one who could hear my words even when I said nothing. My childhood sweetheart, we had both sworn not to give our bodies to anyone until we were married...and we held on to it until last night.

How do I tell her I failed!?

The thought of this only breaks me. I've made a costly mistake, one I would have to live with for the rest of my life.

Costly!

I couldn't wait to get back to Santa Monica.

I had quickly concluded my business meeting with the Mayor and had to be driven back

immediately to the beach. My heart raced as we drove. I had to deal with so much questions. My earlier excitement had given way to guilt. I wasn't the type to feel guilty, but a stranger had my heart caged, it seemed.

What would she think of me? A wolf who took advantage of her drunk state to devour her?

"But we were both drunk," I thought to myself. That's enough reason not to feel guilty, but would she understand? I didn't think she was going to believe me. Well, it's useless being worried over what I can't control. I'll explain myself when I see her, after all, I didn't run away.

I headed straight for my room when I alighted from the van. "Wait for me," I said to my men.

"Excuse me, Sir," the lady at the front desk called my attention, halting my exit. "Yes," I halfheartedly replied, impatient.

"Your key," she said, handing it over to me. "A young lady dropped it. She said you were gone."

"Oh. Did she drop any message or note with you?." I didn't even know what to say. I was shocked.

"No. She left hurriedly. She didn't seem happy."

"Okay. Thank you." I collected the key and rushed to my room. I wanted to be sure she didn't leave any message as the lady had said. I went in and scanned the entire place, looking for anything that looked like a message from her. Disappointed, I went back to the lady.

"Here," I said, giving the key back to her. "Do you know where she came from?" "Yes, but I can't divulge that information to you."

"Why?"

"It's against our policy."

"What if I'm an undercover agent, investigating her?." I adjusted my posture to suit my new profile.

"Are you?," she asked, unconvinced. That was a wrong thing I said, for, my appearance and countenance betrayed me.

"What happens when I slip $300 into your palm? Not waiting for an answer, I gave her the cash. I guess that was the only language that could throw to the dustbin whatever policy she was talking about earlier.

" New York," she said.

"Thank you." I stepped out, satisfied that I didn't lose out completely. At least, she was in my territory and, I was not going to stop searching until I find her. Quickly, we drove to the airport, ready for another gruelling six-hour flight back to New York City. Our business in Los Angeles had been concluded.

*​*​*​*

I couldn't get her off my mind. Every time I slept, I dreamt of nothing but her. Her face had become my eyes. I was shocked when I found out she was a virgin before our tangle the previous night. That's very rare in America. I had enjoyed her body, so much that I wanted more.

I was worried. I needed to look for her, but I had no clue how and where to find her. The only picture I had of her was in my head. Well, it's something. Being one who loved and lived arts, I could translate the picture in my head on a drawing board. It took me three days, but I eventually drew what I was sure was the stranger who had got my heart racing non stop. I gave it to my men with the instruction to look for, and find her at all cost.

Days turned into weeks, but there was no sight of her in New York. We had driven to every known place in the city, including the beaches, since I met her at one in L.A. I was already getting frustrated and tired if searching when I had my lucky break.

Two of my men had gone out to take care of business when they sighted her at the mall.

"Keep an eye on her. I need her location and every known information about her," I had told them. They kept following her for days until they had enough information.

I was finally ready for another meeting with this stranger. No lady had ever had my heart messed up, not even my girlfriend, Julia. Since I knew her routine, I had scheduled to meet with her at the mall where she worked, the following day.

...But tragedy struck...

My father had finally succumbed to his sickness. Though we had all expected it, it was devastating. Not that we were kids, but we were so hurt. His death seemed to hit me more. I had to take over the family's business. That seemed an easy thing, except that we were more than the furniture making family we had come to be known for. I wasn't ready for the other part of the Brandons' merchandise. I felt I still had a lot to learn from my father. He wasn't the perfect father, but the way he grew the Brandons was very remarkable. I have never seen a man who could pull his enemies to his side. He was so smart, a combination of good and evil.

I couldn't afford not to carry on with his business legacies, whatever they were. Our rivals had taken advantage of his demise to try to pull a level ahead of us.

"You cannot let them win. We have always set the standard...and we can't do less. Raise your stakes; raise the bar higher!" My mother had said to me. Though she didn't say it, I knew she

was worried I would crash. Not that she didn't believe in me, but she knew my luxurious lifestyle got me distracted.

I was determined to prove her wrong! I swore to raise the bar even higher!

But is it possible to forget the one who makes your heart race non stop!? Time will prove me!