The Nightlife: New York
Copyright 2012 by Travis Luedke
Book Cover Art by Ida Janssen
http://www.amygdaladesign.net/
THIRD EDITION
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
Adult Reading Material (17+)
Contains scenes of graphic sex and violence
unsuitable for underage readers
Publication Release Schedule:
The Nightlife Series:
I The Nightlife: New York
II The Nightlife: Las Vegas
III The Nightlife: Paris
IV The Nightlife: London
BLOOD SLAVE
V The Nightlife: Moscow June 2014
Young Adult novels by TW Luedke (Travis Luedke)
THE SHEPHERD
SINE NOMINE Spring 2014
CHAPTER 1
Dead on his feet and ready to clock out, Aaron Pilan didn’t immediately react when Charlene groped a good handful of his ass. Burned out from a long, hard shift of waiting tables, Aaron’s delayed reaction wasn’t anything charming or witty as his boss Bemichi would have preferred. Refilling Charlene’s merlot that he’d already refilled one too many times, he deadpanned, “Is there anything else I can do for you?” He realized too late, his question could easily have been misinterpreted as an encouragement to her advances.
He definitely didn’t want to mislead or encourage Charlene. He found her attractive, with that “MILF” allure––Mother I’d Like to Fuck––of older more sophisticated women. But the problem with Charlene came two-fold. She was both a regular customer, and of sufficient age to actually be his mother. And she probably knew enough about sex to thoroughly corrupt his innocence, which, much to his chagrin, remained mostly intact.
The real reason he chose not to fraternize with customers was his ever-present fear of the wrath of Bemichi that could descend upon his shoulders like angels of judgment bearing fiery swords. His boss Antonio Bemichi, who owned the restaurant for two decades, wasn’t one to allow such indiscretions to pass without consequence. Aaron had been warned his first day in training, “Hell hath no fury like an Italian restaurant proprietor scorned.”
Bemichi, like many Italians in New York, took great pride in his fine dining establishment and customer service. After all, the place carried his namesake, Bemichis Restaurant. Like many Italians, Bemichi’s fiery temper flared and screeched in a fountain fireworks display. Fortunately his tirades sputtered out just as quickly.
