Capu Read online

  “We have dinner reservations at Spago tonight. It’s in the Forum, and hard to get seats. I know the manager.”

  “You know quite a few managers.”

  “I know a few capus too,” she chuckled and turned from the mirror. He dropped his pants.

  “That’s not humanly possible, Carlo. How are you hard again?”

  “You do it to me,” he said.

  “And so, what? You want to do it to me again?”

  He nodded and grinned.

  She walked over to him. "I'm all sticky and stinky. Let me shower and then..."

  “No,” he said and kissed her.

  Carlo’s kisses were hard ravishments of lips, teeth, and tongue. Shae had to grab him by the throat to slow him down. There was no hiding how turned on she was, but she needed to get them into the shower if they were going to make love, rest, and then shower again in time to make their dinner reservations.

  Shae pushed him off and went inside. The water blasts were cold. She gasped and shivered. Carlo came inside with her.

  “Come here, I’ll warm you up,” he said in a deep accented voice. She ignored his request. She would rather he come for her. Instead, she picked up her loofah sponge, and her perfumed body wash. She felt the water warming as she lathered up her body.

  Another grunt was his response. And after a few fleeting seconds, he was behind her. His hard body was against her back. One of his strong muscled arms went around her waist, and she was pinned to him. He kissed the back of her neck. Shae didn't want to wet her hair, but she had to wash it now after sex in the limo. So her face went forward and the water poured over her closed lids, into her nostrils, down her lips and chin.

  Carlo said something. She couldn’t tell if it was English or Italian. But she knew the meaning. He was ready, and he didn't need for her to be. He was going to take her right there. She could slow him down. Force him to behave and work her up. But she had the same raw urge to be nailed, claimed, fucked.

  His dick nudged against the folds of her sex, thick, insistent, and then it probed. She dropped the loofah sponge. Carlo forced her to part her feet wider. He put a hand on her back and kept her in position as he found her entrance. And then he went deep inside with a single merciless thrust.

  “Oh shit!” Shae gasped with her voice on the edge of a sob. Heat slid through her channel as his dick thrust, withdrew, thrust deeper again.

  Shae’s soft sighs, moans, and curses while he fucked her tight, juicy honey-spot rewarded him, encouraged him to go further. The feel from the bounce of the soft curve of her ass against his pelvis made him grip her hips and go crazy with lust. If he slammed into her too hard or too fast, she wiggled her ass and teased him to go the distance.

  “Do you want me to fuck you, say it! Say it,” he grunted.

  “Yes! Fuck me, Carlo! Fuck me,” she cried out.

  "To be honest, I'm hanging by a thread, bambina. I don't know if I can last much longer," he confessed. Yes, he could get another erection after what happened in the limo, but he wasn’t physically strong enough to hold on to her. And damn it, he wanted to.

  Shae bent forward. She gripped her ankles and began to work her ass for him. Her thighs jiggled, and her buttocks moved in ways that were delightfully wicked. Carlo had never had it so good. He released his grip to her waist and gripped her hip with one hand while watching the way her ass danced while he slid in and out of her. And she kept moving, punishing him. Her pussy cinched tighter and tighter. He roared with frustration as his control slipped away from him and he released into her. He slammed into her hard and fast releasing every drop. When he was done, he nearly dropped to his knees. He stumbled back from her. He sat on the spa bench inside the shower in disbelief.

  Shae chuckled. “Now can I shower in peace?” she tossed him a wink. He dropped his head back and closed his eyes as serenity and peace went through him. He should have come to America sooner. Shae showered, singing in the softest, sweetest voice.

  Carlo smiled. His lady was one of a kind.

  ***

  Carlo was exhausted. The long flight and drinking on the plane had wrecked him. She had reservations and he owed her a good night of spoiling. He’d buy her plenty while here, and take her to any fancy restaurant she wanted. But for the night all he truly desired was to hold her and sleep. And being the beautiful woman of his heart, she agreed.

  He slipped into bliss. For hours. And then the phone rang.

  Shae rolled off him and reached for the phone. Carlo didn’t open his eyes, but he was awake.

  “What do you mean she didn’t show up? Did you call her room?”

  Shae tossed the covers aside. Carlo’s head turned, and he saw his lady now on the edge of the bed. She had her hand on her face while she whispered to the person on the phone.

  “When was the last time you saw her? Any of the girls see her?”

  Shae sighed.

  “Call the police. Yes, damn it. If her car is here, and her stuff is here, and she is missing, then you call the damn police.”

  Shae listened to the person and seemed to get more than agitated. “Okay. Fine. You girls look for her. But if we don’t find her we are calling the police. No more of this. Do you hear me? Call me back.”

  Shae hung up the phone. Carlo closed his eyes. Instead of her returning to him she picked up her robe and put it on. She left the room. Carlo tried to understand the trouble she was in. A person was missing?

  Carlo got up from the bed. He went to his suitcase and unzipped it. He found a pair of boxers and put them on. He started for the door when he heard voices. It was Shae and some other girls. Carlo peeked out of the room.

  Three girls sat on the sofa. They wore party dresses. Shae paced before them,

  “When was the last time any of you saw Candy?” Shae asked.

  “I saw her two days ago,” The redhead said. “She was doing a bachelor party at the Flamingo.”

  "Yeah, and I spoke to her that night. She said she was meeting Marissa later," said a dark-skinned woman with long braids.

  “What about you?” Shae asked a woman with long brunette hair. She had a dark olive skin tone and looked middle eastern or Spanish. “Did you meet with her afterwards, Marissa?”

  “No, Shae. I haven’t seen her. She never showed up.”

  "Well, she's missing. She missed a job tonight. That's not like her."

  “Missing? What does that mean? Like Jennifer? Like Tara?” the redhead asked with alarm.

  Shae put a hand to her head. “It’s time to call the police.”

  “And tell them what?” The one named Marissa asked. “This is Vegas. Girls go missing all the time.”

  “Not my girls!” Shae snapped. “We’re calling the police if we don’t find her in twenty-four hours. I want you to check the casinos. Check with her friends. I want to hear what you hear. Okay?”

  The redhead got up. The one with the braids joined her, and they both hugged Shae. The olive skinned, dark haired beauty was the last to hug her. “It’s okay. It’s not Spyder. Candy is probably hung over from a wild party or something.”

  Shae nodded. The girls went to their rooms in the suite. They put on their shoes and got their purses. They spoke briefly to Shae before they walked out. Carlo watched as Shae sat on the sofa. She drew her knees up to her chest and dropped her head on it. Part of him wanted to comfort her. But Shae wasn’t that kind of woman. She’d take his curiosity as him trying to control her or know her business. He had to get her to come to him and tell him what was wrong. This might be what Marietta was talking about. His lady was in trouble.

  Chapter Three

  “Breakfast is served!” Shae announced. “Wake up, sleepy head.”

  Carlo opened his eyes. His lady wore a pink shirt and tight fitted matching pink jeans. She was grinning at him with her hands to her hips. She had curled her hair, and it fell in graceful curves past her shoulders. “Look!”

  He glanced over to the other side of the bed and saw the silver domes cove
ring dishes of food he could smell. “You didn’t eat last night. Correction, you didn’t eat food last night,” she said.

  He chuckled. She walked over and revealed all the American favorites. A stack of pancakes, an omelet, potatoes, bacon, ham, and fruit. Shae put a tray over him. Carlo sat back and let her serve him.

  “You snore when you are tired,” she said.

  “Is that right?”

  She nodded and smothered his pancakes with butter before slicing up the fluffy stack. “I don’t mind. I missed sleeping next to you.”

  “Everything alright?” Carlo asked.

  “Yeah, let's eat, and then you get dressed. I want to show you what I do. We have rehearsals for the girls’ show tonight. And of course, you will be at my side."

  She poured the syrup and then forked some of his food and fed him, then fed herself. Last night she returned to bed late. And she clung to him. If he woke and rolled away, she rolled in close. Eventually, he just let her lay on his chest and sleep with her heart next to his. Whatever troubled her must be close to resolving. She now seemed vibrant and sexy as always.

  “Can you get the reservations again? I owe you dinner,” he said.

  “I can call and see. Or we can go somewhere else. I want to show you Vegas at night. Maybe we can do some gambling. You good with dice?”

  A sly smile curled his lips. “I think I can handle it.”

  She fed him some more. Syrup dropped to his chin. Shae flicked the tip of her pierced tongue and swiped the syrup off. “Mmm, baby, you taste so good.”

  “I like this tongue of yours. Does it hurt when you speak, swallow?”

  “No. It doesn’t.”

  “You said you got it for my dick, show me?”

  “Tonight. I promise. I’ll show you another special trick I can do.”

  “Like in the shower?” he chuckled.

  “Better than that, handsome,” she teased. She scooted up onto the bed and sat next to him. They fed each other, and Carlo flipped on the television. They watched the news. A report came up with a body being found of a missing young black woman. Shae stopped chewing. She stared at the screen. The broadcast showed the police and paramedics. A body was wheeled away on a gurney. The image of the woman flashed on the screen. Carlo’s gaze slipped over to Shae. She had a look of relief.

  “Did you know her?” he asked.

  “No,” Shae said. “But I’ve known women like her. I hate to see news reports like that. I hate it.”

  He turned off the television. Shae drank his juice, and he ate his eggs. "You know you can talk to me. Tell me anything."

  “Anything huh?” she grinned.

  “Yep. Try me,” he said.

  “I did sleep with the manager here. It was a year ago. I wanted the contract so bad, and I had some tough competition. I knew he... he wanted me, so…I did it.”

  Carlo kept eating.

  Shae set the juice down. "I'm not perfect. I have never been. But I'm not a whore. I'm a business woman. I only slept with him once. I got the contract and the suite. And I make my money with my mind, not my body. So do my girls. They aren't hookers or call girls. They are adult escorts, and we don't do anything we don't want to do. If they sleep with a client, it's their choice.”

  Carlo glanced over to her. “If I see him I’m going to kill him.”

  Shae’s eyes stretched.

  He winked and smiled.

  Shae laughed and hit him playfully. “You aren’t turned off?”

  “Sweetheart, I can’t control your past. Or change it. It’s your future I want. I don’t give a fuck what you did to get the business. But you’re mine now. Understand?”

  “Yes. I understand.” She rested the side of her head on his arm. He lifted it to bring her in close while he finished his breakfast. It was tasty.

  ***

  Carlo slumped down in the theater seat. Shae was on stage with seven other girls. They had some black man in tights and a leotard, with a long silver ponytail and painted fingernails, instructing them on dance steps. Shae did the dance moves with her girls. She stepped back a few times to check to see if they did as well as she did. She stopped a few and gave personal tips. It went on and on. He was bored.

  He checked his watch. She said it would be two hours of rehearsals, and then they would leave and get lunch. But he couldn't sit through it much longer. When he stood, Shae was the first to notice. She walked over to the side of the stage. Carlo came down the steps and walked over to her. Shae squatted.

  “Wassup, baby?” she asked.

  “I’m going to the casino. Play some games. You have my pager number. Page me and I’ll come back.”

  “Aww, I wanted you to stay and watch me work. You don’t like my moves?” she grinned.

  He frowned, and then he realized she was teasing him. She leaned over and kissed him. Her beautiful perfume filled his nose and made his loins ache. It was Shalimar. The kind Marietta wore. But Shae said she wore it first, and he believed her. It smelled different on Shae, softer.

  “I’ll be done soon. Promise. Here,” she stood and reached into her back-pocket. “This is a guest card. My account. You can use it to gamble with and pay me back.”

  “I have my own money,” he frowned.

  “Italian money? Did you get it exchanged to American dollars?”

  He glanced up at her and felt like an idiot. He had forgotten to. He had his credit cards, and they had high enough limits.

  Shae chuckled. “Just stay out of the high-roller’s room. Okay? Use my account. Pay me back later.”

  He winked and took the card. He would need to go to a bank. He brought money but forgot to exchange it over after he landed. She was too much of a distraction. Carlo walked away. He glanced back to see Shae again in the middle of her girls doing the leg kicks with them in her five-inch pink heels. She blew him a kiss. Shae often did that to him when he was leaving. It made him want to return. He smiled.

  The casino was everywhere. You leave one area of the hotel and walk into a casino. You go through another hall, and you're emptied into a casino. His boss, Don Giovanni Battaglia, had tried to open a few casinos along the Italian Riveria, but the politicians blocked it. They knew if they allowed gambling into the southern area of Italy la Cammora would be even more powerful. That is why the Battaglias had so many illegal gambling houses. Maybe Don Giovanni could invest in Vegas. Carlo liked that idea.

  Carlo walked up to a card table. There were only two men seated. Most of the tables were crowded. He found it odd that this one remained empty. He took a seat and put down the black card Shae gave him.

  “How much, sir?” the dealer asked.

  “A thousand,” he said.

  “This is a private table. Get up and walk away.” Another man said.

  Carlo’s gaze cut over to his left. One of the two men spoke. He wasn’t sure which one. Both had mean glares on their faces. One dropped his coins, and then picked them and dropped them from his fingers again.

  “You speak English?” The man asked.

  “You heard me speak it,” Carlo replied.

  “And you heard the boss tell you to get up and walk away,” the other man said.

  "He's not my boss," Carlo replied.

  “Gentlemen, please place your bets.” The dealer said.

  Carlo held the stare of the men and didn't blink. The one who played with his coins was the leader of the two; he blinked first. The man smiled and revealed a chipped tooth. He pushed his coins to the dealer. His wager had to be close to a thousand, if not a thousand. The other man tossed two hundred dollar chips down. Carlo tossed in several coins. Carlo didn't come to Vegas for trouble. But he wasn't shy either. If the idiot made any move, it would be his last. And he didn't need a gun to deliver on that promise.

  "The game is blackjack,” the dealer said. He seemed to be the most uncomfortable at the table. “Twenty-one is the winning hand." At the start of the deal, each player received two cards. They were placed faced up. The dealer had one card
faced up and one turned down. Carlo found that interesting. He had a 10 of hearts and a 10 of clubs. The man next to him had a 4 of spades and a 10 of clubs. The one with the evil stare was dealt a 7 of spades and a 3 of hearts. The dealer had an ace.

  Carlo perceived he was the first to place the wager. He shook his head no to a new card. The man next to him riding with 14 took a hit and received a queen of hearts. He sat back and grimaced. The one to the far end received a 3 of spades. Now with thirteen he had no choice but to take another hit. He could only receive a seven or eight to stay in the game. The card was laid down. It was a jack of hearts. The dealer then flipped over his card and uncovered a five of spades. He was forced to take another hit and busted. Carlo won the hand.

  “You owe me a thousand dollars, meatball,” the man said.

  Two men arrived dressed in dark suits. They had little gold badges on their lapels. Carlo picked up his money. He was always aware of his surroundings. Since he had sat down the men in suits had come closer. And now another man stepped behind the dealer. He glanced up and saw dark bubbles for security cameras at every angle. Giovanni never wanted trouble in the States. No matter how deserving. It was his duty to walk away. No matter how much his blood boiled. The dealer swept up the coins and was immediately replaced by another.

  “You hear me, wop?” the man said.

  It was an insult he didn’t have to travel to America to learn. It was given to Italians arriving in the country without papers. But it was derived from a word that in his Neapolitan dialect was pronounced as ‘woppo,' and meant criminal or bully. He glanced at the man, and it occurred to Carlo that the guy might know exactly who Carlo was.

  “Gentlemen, either place a bet or leave the table.” A security officer came over to diffuse the situation.

  “Hi, baby!” Shae sang from his right. He glanced over to see her smiling face. The two men at the table zeroed in on her. The one with the chipped tooth gave her a leering smile. “Let’s go, Carlo. I’m hungry.”

  Carlo sat still. He’d been insulted twice. And all he did was take a seat in an empty chair. Why should he be the one to retreat?