Hitwife

 

Not packaged for resale - Viewer Discretion Advised. Keep out of reach of children.
Servings per container: 1 Calories from fat: 0 How's my driving? Call 63(02)2446913 (international rates may apply)
Story Codes: F/M+, FemDom, Mafia, Violent, Oral, Anal, CP
Synopsis: When a suitcase full of cocaine goes missing, the Don wants it back and he's got the perfect girl for the job. With her loyal crew to back her up, Rachael Graziano gets more than her hands dirty as she unravels the mystery and settles old scores. The only real question is, how will she convince her innocent fiancé that being the husband of a notorious hitwoman isn't really as bad as it sounds?

Download the complete hitwife.zip plain text file here (66kb)
Copyright 2004-2009 Rachael Ross all rights reserved

       

Chapter One        Chapter Two         Chapter Three

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

 

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.

We went back to the club and I spent two hours doing the books. It was the only part of the job I didn't like, but what was I gonna do? I had Lucky looking for Carmine in the Bronx, which was Carmine's neighborhood, and I had Sal checking Queens, since that was Vic's turf. I sent Jimmy over to see Danny Pats, figuring we'd need to get a whole lot more friendly if it turned out his boy Carmine was working for Vic. And if all that wasn't headache enough, I had to lose my car.

"Rache, phone!" Georgie called from the kitchen and I sighed, standing up and stretching.

"Yeah?" I said into the receiver.

"You wanted word on the rabbit? The tags just popped." It was a cop who worked autos in robbery.

"Thanks. Get yourself some donuts tomorrow, ya sound skinny." I'd just promised the guy some cash for the tip.

"Georgie." I walked over to my purse and fished out my keys, tossing them to the kid. "Take my VW and park it in front of the precinct there on West 49th. Leave it running." I thought for a minute. "And get my Evanescence CD out of the player."

"You sure, Rache?" He looked at me. "You love that car."

I smiled. "Yeah, I'm sure." I would have chopped it, but a VW don't go for shit in New York, and anyways I figured the owner deserved a break. It had been a great little car for the two weeks I'd had it. "Then stop by Huey's and tell Lance I'm looking for a cool ride. Something legit."

I sat back down looking at numbers and punching my calculator.

"Rache, phone!" Tony the Barber called, holding it up. "It's Lucky."

I frowned. "Yeah, yeah…" I got up, deciding I'd never get through the books. "Talk to me," I said, cupping the phone to my ear.

"I got a line on our fish, down at Bozio's in the Bronx. He's sweatin' like crazy!" Lucky laughed.

"I bet. Who'd ya get it from?"

"His wife, you believe that shit? I had Cali give her a ring, just smoochin, and badabing, she starts bitchin about some ho makin time with her sweet Carmine."

"Okay, get down to Bozio's and sit on him. I'm on my way."

Cali, short for Calista, was Lucky's wife. All those women knew each other and they all hated me, which didn't bother me a whole lot. I didn't have much use for them either, but once in awhile…

"Tony, yo…!" I looked around and the big guy finally popped out of the basement with a case of beer in his arms. "Hey Tony, get Jimmy on the phone, tell him I'm comin' over for a sit down with Danny Pats an about an hour." I looked around. "Is Georgie back yet?"

"No, he ain't back. Why? What you need, Rache?" He was picking up the phone.

"I need a ride."

"Yo, Tommy!" he yelled and one of his boys popped out of the kitchen. Tony just jerked his thumb at me.

The kid was young, maybe 24, but still older than I was and I'd heard good things about him. "You're driving," I told him and I grabbed my purse and jacket, following him out to the parking lot. "You carrying?"

"Yeah." He smiled like he was just begging for me to tell him to whack somebody.

"Just keep it in your pants, got it?"

"Sure. Yeah," he nodded and started getting in an old blue Chevy Nova, all jacked up in the rear with slicks and a big air scoop in the front.

I got in the passenger side and it was snug. I glanced at Tommy and he was a looker, with olive skin and big doe eyes, real sexy. "You drive a car like this, you gotta have the prick to go with it," I told him with a doubtful smile.

"Balls too." He grinned back at me and dropped the hammer, leaving thirty yards of rubber down the street.

After that little show Tommy settled down and I gave him directions to get to Bozio's, a little restaurant just off the Battery. "Okay, look…" I said after he turned off the engine and we were staringing at the place through the car windows, "…you gotta be cool, right? You don't say a fuckin' word, you got me?"

"Sure, Rache." He nodded, but I'd never worked with the guy before.

I sighed and stepped out of the car, dodging traffic across the street with Tommy right behind me. He wanted to get the door, but I wasn't waiting and I walked into the softly lit interior. It was dressed like a mom and pop place, simple and clean. Lucky had been sitting in a booth and he got up as soon as he saw me.

"Hey Rache." He glanced at Tommy and gave the kid a nod.

"Where is he?" I asked, looking around. There were a few people eating, local civilians, I didn't see anyone I recognized. We grabbed a table and pretended to look at the little menus stuffed between the parmesan cheese and the napkin holder.

"Bozio has a spare room down in the basement. Carmine set up some bimbo named Charlene with it about a month ago. He came in two days ago and hasn't left."

"He got a phone down there?"

"I dunno," Lucky shrugged. "Why?"

"Seems like a bad spot to hole up, don't it?" I didn't like it.

"Maybe he ain't hiding," Tommy offered, just dying to impress me. "Maybe he's just knockin' off some of that tail, you know?"

"Nobody's knockin' off tail for two fuckin' days either." Lucky frowned at the kid who just shrugged.

I had a sinking feeling in my stomach. Sure enough, when we got Bozio to open the door it was ripe. Carmine and his girl were dead. Somebody had made a real mess on the little bed in there, shooting them both in the head. Bozio was an old guy and he looked like he was gonna have a heart attack on the spot, luckily for him or I might have figured he was in on it. But he didn't know jack. I called Jimmy and gave him the bad news. I didn't need that sit down after all.

By Thursday things had settled down and my period was almost over. I'd talked to Bert and he wasn't happy having no answers, but whoever had whacked Carmine had done it clean. I had my money on Vic, but it could have been Danny too. Whichever one had tried to heist the cola was just covering his tracks. The one good thing was that whoever it was would try again. Wise guys are dumb that way.

I'd found a place for Paul and I through a friend in the real estate business. A real nice little house on Long Island. Five bedrooms, three baths, a three car garage, dining room, kitchen, den, etc. etc.

It had been appraised at 865, on the market for 750, and I picked it up at 485, getting a loan from the Longshoreman Union in Jersey City. That got picked up in turn by UAW for 3.2pts and dropped an hour later on Local 432 of the NYC Sanitation Services. They wrote it off as collection due, I love their sense of humor, and I paid them 250 in some T-notes I'd happened to have found, the rest was a loss and fell into a tax shelter so the union would collect on the appraised from the Fed to the tune of 615 in tax credit come April. 

After Paul and I were married we'd take out a mortgage through Jersey First for 500 grand and wash some money for the Don at 15pts. That would net us 75 grand every three months since we'd be taking out 90 day notes. The house itself was owned by the Frontier Club, which was in turn owned by a trust established with the Azteca Banco in the Cayman Islands. Paul and I would pay $1800.00 month rent, plus utilities. Of course the rent went straight to the club and that was just a front for the Capo of Manhattan, who happened to be me. So all we were really doing was making a paper trail.

The IRS loves paper and it's pretty handy for wiping your ass with too.

Of course on Thursday afternoon, meeting Paul at the airport, I didn't explain all that stuff to him. I didn't even totally understand it myself, but as long as I had a free house, I didn't care. My accountant was from Syracuse…the one in Sicily, not upstate…and you know how those people are! So, I just kissed Paul really hard because I'd missed him so much.

"I've missed you so much!" I smiled and hugged his arm, pulling him out to where I was illegally parked.

"Hi, yeah. I missed you too." He seemed a little bewildered though. "Why did I need to fly down? I could have just driven." He clearly wasn't happy that some guy named Mario was going to be driving his precious BMW down from Syracuse, the one upstate, the next day. He'd be following the Mayflower truck loaded with Paul's stuff.

"Because, silly! I want to show you the house we bought!"

"We bought a house?" He looked at me, but I was jumping in the driver's seat of my new car. Paul bent down and looked at me through the passenger window. "Who's car is this?"

"Mine! Hurry up and get in!" I laughed at him as he did as he was told. "Don't you like it?"

"Uh…Yeah. It's great. It's…"

"It's a Lincoln Sports Coup. Pretty hot, huh? Check this out!" I hit some switches and the hydraulics engaged, lifting the car about three feet off the axles. "I like it better down though." And I flipped them again and the car dropped until the bumpers were almost scraping pavement.

"What happened to the Volkswagen?"

"Oh, that was just a loaner. This I got from some guys in Spanish Harlem. They owed me a little something and, well, the car was interest. I just love it."

"Yeah, it's, uh…something, Rachael."

It was a totally hot car, midnight blue with a moon roof and power everything. A super stereo with huge woofers in the trunk. A gigantic engine, hydraulics, even the cigarette lighter worked. And best of all, it wasn't hot at all. I had the registration in my old landlady's name. She didn't mind stuff like that, since she had Alzheimer's.

"Hey, we're getting married on Saturday. So the boys wanna take you out tonight." I told Paul with a smile.

"Saturday? But what happened to…" he blinked at me.

"The sooner the better right?" I giggled. "I don't wanna be a virgin forever!"

"Uh…" he gave me a funny look, but I thought he knew what I meant. Paul accepted it anyway. "What did you say? Boys?"

"Yeah, Lucky, Jimmy, Sal, some of the others. You remember! You met them last week in Jersey. They really like you, I think."

"You mean the boys you, uh, slept with." He looked down a little petulantly.

I laughed. "We definitely weren't sleeping, dear." I reached over and rubbed high inside Paul's thigh. "But yeah, the guys who fucked me."

"I wish, um…I wish you wouldn't say that, Rachael." He squirmed a little and I grabbed his penis feeling it growing hard already.

"Oh?" I glanced over and grinned. "Somebody doesn't seem to mind if say I got seriously fucked by my crew." He was throbbing. "I bet you'd like to watch sometime, wouldn't you, Paul?" I teased.

"Rachael! No…No, that's not why, uh…no," he protested but his penis was tenting his Dockers something fierce.

"Oh. Well, that's too bad, because the boys are giving me a bachelorette party tomorrow night and, well, I know it's not really traditional, but if you wanted to come along…" I shrugged.

"A bachelorette…party?" He looked at me. "With the…boys?"

"Well who else is going to do me…er…it, I mean? I don't have any female friends!" I giggled. "Don't you think it's sweet of them?"

"Um, well…"

"Plus there's some people I want you to meet, some people I work for who would like to meet you, get a feel for you. Marriage is a big deal in the Family."

"I see, well, oh…okay then…" Paul was such a pussy, it made me very happy that I'd judged him correctly when we'd first met. But I'm good at that, sensing the way people are, what they're thinking, what they'll do next. It was a big advantage in our thing.

"So, how was your little trip? Did you get everything straightened out?" I asked sweetly. I'd had daily updates, of course, but Paul didn't know that. 

"Uh, yeah, mostly. I got everything packed and I gave notice at work, but there's so much, Rachael. I mean, I just can't, uh…quit in the middle of the semester, I…"

"So you didn't resign?" I already knew he hadn't.

"Um, no." He looked at me. "I need to be back on Monday, but it's only for three more weeks, okay?" I didn't say anything. "Please?" I just stared at the road. "Rachael?"

"Do you love me, Paul?" I finally asked.

"Yes, I do. More than anything."

"Anything?" I stared at him for a second.

"Yes."

"Even more than your job? Your students? Your career?" I was smiling inside but I kept my face hard.

"That's…that's not fair, I mean…"

"Yes or no?" I asked.

"Yes," he sighed.

"So if I asked you to quit, to call them up and tell them you weren't coming back, ever." I glanced at him. "You'd do that for me?"

"I…" He was frowning. "Yes."

"Okay, then you can finish the semester." I rubbed his leg again. "I love you too, Paul."

"Thank you, Rachael," he breathed, allowing himself a smile as he relaxed visibly, sinking back into the buttery leather seat.

"Now, tell me…Were you a good boy while you were up there?" I squeezed his penis but it wasn't hard anymore.

"Uh, what?" Paul blinked hard.

"Did you go out? Have a little fun with the guys?" I smiled and rubbed him gently.

"I, um…" He didn't know what to say. I don't think he'd ever lied to anyone in his life, certainly not to me.

"It's okay, come on. What did you do, get drunk and pass out?" I laughed.

"I, um…Yeah, I guess, er…I…Yeah." He was so bad at it.

"You know…" I was talking in a soft, matter of fact voice. "If I ever thought you were cheating on me? I'd cut off your balls." I grabbed them through his trousers, squeezing his testicles hard. "Especially after our little talk last week."

Paul groaned and pressed his thighs together, but I didn't let go.

"Yep, I'd cut them off and hang them from my mirror, Paul. So I'd always know right where they were. So I'd never have to worry if my husband was fucking around on me." I rolled them in my fist as I drove.

"I'm…Ohhhh…" Paul reached for my wrist. "P-Please! Rachael!"

"Are you sure you don't want to tell me anything, Paul?" I smiled at him. "Oh look! I know that man. Let's say hi." I let go of Paul's nuts as I spied a brown Plymouth sedan. It sat right where it was supposed to be, in an empty lot next to a 7-11, even though I was running about 10 minutes late.

I pulled up next to it, facing the opposite direction so my side was next to the driver of the other car. I rolled down my window and saw Jerry, my ex-vice cop sitting there. He handed me a large brown envelope and I handed it to Paul as I pulled away, never saying a word.

"What's this?" Paul asked me, turning the envelope over in his hands. The sun had started setting, but there was still plenty of light, so I just smiled.

"I'm not sure, dear. Open it and take a look." I kept my eyes on the road, I'd already seen the pictures anyway. Jerry had brought the negatives and the originals by that morning and my crew had been impressed.

Paul, of course, was taken completely by surprise. I'd told Charlie what I'd wanted and he hadn't let me down. He'd fixed my fiancé up with a pair of blondes, one quite beautiful in a fashion model sort of way, the other an almost unbearably cute girl next door. I'd been impressed, seriously doubting there was any talent to be found in Syracuse, but you just never knew. I thought about opening an escort service up there.

"What have you got there, honey?" I was careful to keep my eyes straight ahead, although I really wanted to see what I was sure would be panic on my husband-to-be's handsome face.

"Oh my God," he whispered, and I doubted Paul was even aware he'd said it. I heard the rustle of photographs. Large, bright, color 8x10 glossies being hurriedly shoved back into the envelope. "It's…uh, it's…some…uh, pictures."

"Oh really?" I asked innocently.

"Rachael, I…I…" He was quiet for a moment, staring at the envelope in his lap. "You set me up." His voice suddenly filled with the realization. "You…You know already!"

"I especially like the one with you on your back, one riding you like a cowgirl and the other one sitting on your face? That's real class, Paul. How did she taste?"

"It wasn't my fault, Rachael, you know that!" His voice was accusing and he really seemed to think he was the victim.

"Oh?" I shrugged. "I suppose it was my fault?" I looked at Paul, shaking my head sadly.

"No…Well, yes…Maybe…I don't know." The poor dear was so confused. "You arranged it, somehow, I know you did."

"I told Charlie to make sure you had a good time, Paul, that's all."

"But…Why? Why would you do that and pay someone to…to take pictures? Like you're blackmailing me or something."

"Because Paul," I sighed. "This is the way it is, everyday. Someone will always be looking for a way to take me down. To take us down," I corrected myself, looking at Paul deliberately in the fading light. "If you ever try to hide something from me, someone else will try and use it against us. If you ever do anything that would hurt me, like fucking around, someone will know and try to use it."

Paul didn't say anything for awhile and I continued. "This is just a lesson, okay? I wanted you to have fun, to get laid, okay? It's alright, because I wanted to see how you'd handle it. I have to be able to trust you, more than anyone else in the world. If you have any secrets, we're in trouble. Do you understand?"

"Not really, Rachael," he sighed. "What about you? What about your secrets?"

"You don't have to know." I gave him a sad little smile.

"But that's not fair."

"I know, honey." I patted his thigh. "You can keep your balls. This time!" I giggled and pulled onto the Long Island Expressway, quickly accelerating my new car with a satisfying deep throated growl.

Our house sat in a nice neighborhood, with lots of room between us and the neighbors. There were automatic gates at the driveway and I hit a little button attached to the visor so they opened slowly, pushing it again to make them close behind me. I thought that was pretty neat. I could see a few cars in front of the house already, a few vans too, and even a truck.

I was getting a security system installed, the movers were finishing up, and the phone company was putting in an additional phone line. My crew was there, and had been for most of the day, making sure nothing got lost.

"Hey, Rache!" Lucky grinned when he saw me. "And the lucky stiff!" He came over shaking Paul's hand. "Nice to see you again!'

"Rache." Sal was coming over too. "Howsabouda we show da hubby Marci's?"

"Marci's? No, we're goin' to Slim's, ain't we?" Lucky frowned.

Jimmy appeared around the corner. "Yo, Rache. Hey, uh, you need to call Bert about the, uh…the thing."

"They got the phones hooked up?" I looked around, we all had celphones, but rarely used them. "Go find out, Jimmy." The place was a mess, boxes and packing all over, people walking around. I hated moving.

"Your office is over there, we got that fixed up nice. First thing," Jimmy winked and went off to see how the phone guy was doing.

"It's, uh, nice to see you guys again," Paul was saying. Shaking hands with Lucky and Sal, doubtlessly remembering that these two guys had been fucking me while he himself hadn't.

"You ready to go have some fun?" Lucky was grinning.

"Ya, I seen dose pics from upstate, Paulie, youse look good in blonde!" Sal laughed and Lucky glanced at me. I just shook my head and laughed too.

"As long as he doesn't make a habit of it." I kissed Paul's blushing cheek.

"You, uh, saw the pictures?" he asked.

"Oh! Fuckin-A we saw 'em, spread 'em all out an…uh…" Sal looked at me, thinking about what he was about to say.

"We fucked on top of them, Paul. I made my crew fuck me while I looked through them." I laughed and Lucky and Sal grinned while Paul turned six shades of red.

Jimmy called me over and I went into the den that had been set up as my little office, he held up a phone. "It's clean," he told me. Our security guy had just checked it, which was no surprise because not even the feds could get a tap warrant before a phone was even connected.

"Bert?" I said. "What can I do for you?"

"Rache, I need you," he said. "Right now at Mixie's."

"Casual or dress?"

"Dress. We gotta have sit down with Vic."

I frowned at that.

"Right. I need an hour," I agreed and hung up the phone.

 

        Read Hitwife Ch. 3