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 in 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 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 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 at 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 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 hand over to me a suitcase that 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 the exit in a waiting van.

Quickly, I dialed 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. 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 into 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 barman. "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 thoughts 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 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 around me and returned the kiss more passionately. In a moment, my hands gently traveled 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 the 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 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 from 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 had the best moment of our lives."

"...we had the best moment of our lives..." I read that part again and quickly looked at my beneath. I didn't seem to