Note: I realised I had a draft and got impatient. Lol.
Anyway enjoy and updates will on a three day gap.❤
I ran myself a hot a bath the first thing after I got up from sleep the next morning.
I was tired, sore and hungry.
Sometime around the morning, I felt Angelo wake up and shower and get dressed and leave to wherever.
At this point I don't even want to know where he went, only to add fuel to the already burning fire inside my chest.
From my spa and bath essential supplies, I added a generous amount citrus bath salts, on the a level up then warm water and stepped into the bathtub, spreading my legs as far as they'll go to let the warm water soothe my throbbing core.
What a monster. I thought and I fingered my hair untangling them from the knots.
But then again, I was the one demanding so I can't really complain.
I stayed in the same position till the water cooled, pulled the plug of the tub to let the water drain and added some more water along with salts to make me feel better.
My legs were achy, my pussy was throbbing, constantly wet, my arms hurt, my head was spinning.
And all I could hear was my loud screams from last night as Angelo's throbbing dick pummeled me.
I don't even remember how many times I came and how many positions we changed until I passed out.
Stepping out of the tub another five minutes later, pondering about what's wrong with me, I wrap myself in a towel and walk back into the bedroom falling on to the bed.
I was done for the day. I needed some food and sleep. Good quantity of sleep.
The knock on the door made me groan.
"Ariel?" Bertie's strong but gentle voice came muffled from the other side.
Jesus.
Getting up, I discarded the towel and pulled a robe over my naked self tying a knot on my mid stomach as I opened the door for Bertie.
He had Coco by the leash who yapped from happiness seeing me.
As we went to the brunch last day, Berrie took Coco to his place with him since he was dismissed for the day.
And I was glad Coco made a friend.
"Hey, Bert." I say kneeling down and fondling my mutt. "He did not trouble you too much, did he?" I ask.
"I was wondering about getting him checked actually." Bertie said. "All he does is watch TV and sleep, I don't know, aren't dogs supposed to be energetic."
I shrug. "He's like this since I got him."
Bertie nods. "Capo Bestone called to make sure you're fed."
I roll my eyes. "And where is this Capo Bestone of yours?"
"I am unaware of the Boss's whereabouts." He says, clearly lying with a straight face.
"But he ordered meal for you from the inn and it's sitting in the kitchen." He adds.
I share breakfast with Bertie even though he don't want them but I still do.
I play with Coco for a while and debate calling Angelo.
Nope.
I am pretty sure he's fucking his French friend so I'd rather not intervene in his business.
I make a simple lunch of flat bread sandwich and slap some cheese and eat by myself while watching reality TV shows since Bertie refuses to eat.
After that I feed Coco and sit to do my nails.
These past three weeks, waiting and worrying, I completely ignored myself.
I was also getting lazy from not working. I hated being lazy.
My nails were not perfected as as usual, I was not perfectly presentable as usual since I took a break.
I had no idea if I still had the job or not?
The Ariel who danced five days a week looked damn gorgeous even with sweat matting her body.
The Ariel that stares back at me from behind mirror of the dressing room table looks tired and in need of sleep and self care.
I missed the ballet auditorium. I missed the whiney kids.
I missed the small five year old to ten year old munchkins constantly huffing and puffing to perfect one single move.
I missed the sensual music at the club, the way my body reacted on those twelve feet poles, the cheers, the feeling of euphoria while the music took over me.
I missed living.
This is prison. I mentally think to myself as I use a nail file to oval out my nails.
They were not overly grown or long like acrylics people put on these days, decent length, enough to hurt an asshole if he steps over the line.
Which I am sure I'll be doing once Angelo is home.
After I file out all ten of the nails, I dip them in warm water for a while to loosen the dead skin and use coconut oil to clean them and then wash with hand soap before smothering hand cream.
Finishing my almost twenty minute business in the bathroom alternating between standing before the wash sink and sitting in the toilet seat, I walk out and sit in front of the dressing table and open my large make up bag.
Being a stripper had it's perks. The club offers make up in the green room but I wasn't gonna smother my face with powder and brush used by a lot other girls, no thank you.
I buy my own stuff.
Selecting a bottle of maroon nail lacquer to paint my nails and add slight gold details as much as my amateur self allows me.
I was blowing my wet nail paint dry when the sound of the door knocking came to my ears.
"A second." I called to Bertie.
That man wouldn't even step inside the bedroom even the door was opened.
"Open the damn door you!" I heard Blaire whiney voice from the other end still beating on the door like a mad women making me run across the room instead of just walking like a normal person and swinging the door open.
"Oi?" She greeted, looking me up and down with a suggestive look. "Nails look good, mama." She complimented.
"Thank you!" I squeak and hug her tightly for the second time.
"You do mine too, mine look like a panda's." She said showing me her bitten uneven nails.
Look at her demanding.
Well, at least I have some stuff to do.
I spread a towel on the bed and use that as make shift nail salon for Blaire as I clip them to shape and file them and tell her use the coconut oil to clean her nail and kick her into the bathroom to wash her filthy hands and smear my hand cream over her hands.
"I'm allergic to almonds." She complains reading the ingredient behind the cream tube. "Some people be really putting nuts into these stuff."
"It's nut less." I say. "It's grape seed oil based"
"I trust you not to make my hands swell the size of Roman's nuts."
I snort at her analogy, given that I have no idea about Roman's balls.
"Besides, you get allergies if you eat almond." I point out.
"I'd not take a risk and walk around with Roman's balls for hands." She quips rummaging through my makeup bag compartment where there are the bottles of nail lacquer, like greedy little shit.
"Okay, I want blue and yellow, swirls like yours." She demands.
"On this finger I want just yellow." She shows me her ring fingers.
"Look at you demanding like you're paying me." I mumble shaking the container of blue nail paint.
"Oh wait." She says looking for some more colors. "I don't want that stupid yellow, I want neon yellow."
"Your color sense, sucks." I say snatching the bottle from her hand. "How bout we do silver? That's classy."
"I want them bitchy." She crosses her arms over her chest. "Like a bad ass."
"Okay." I agree. "Okay, let's do them black."
"And neon yellow!" She screams.
I decline her whiney childish offer and paint her nails black and paint her ring nails maroon.
"Okay." Blaire examines her nails. "They look good, so I am not mad."
"Bitch." I narrow my eyes at her and hand her a transparent top coat.
We do our toes next giggling and laughing like fifteen year olds until Blaire stops laughing at one point and frowns.
"Ariel?" She asks.
"Yeah?" I ask dragging the transparent coat through my big toe.
"Don't you ever wander how little we know about each other?" She asks serious all of a sudden.
"Not really." I answer truthfully. "I feel like I know you enough."
"We practically don't know anything about each other." She says. "And yet, look we talk like we know each other for the whole life-"
"Maybe we were besties in previous life." I mutter, not really knowing where she is going with this topic.
"Maybe." She shrugs. "I feel like I've known you forever."
"Me too." I agree.
Like I sad in the beginning. Where she comes from is not my headache.
She can be a princess or a homeless truck driver or a mutant and I'd still love her the same.
Sometimes to love a person you don't really need to know a lot about them, to be honest.
"What about your parents?" She asks abruptly capping the nail lacquer and tossing it on to the bag.
I shrug. "I haven't talked to them for a while."
"My dada died sometime ago, my mum hates me." She volunteers.
How could anybody ever hate you, Blaire?
"Why?" I ask.
"My Dada, he left a hefty amount of money for me. They become mine when I turn twenty two. My mum wants them, she wants me practically deceased." She chuckles shaking her head.
"Sounds like a mean- lady to me." The word bitch lingering on the tip of my tongue.
"She's a straight bitch alright." She snorts.
"Choosing money over blood. Women like that shouldn't be allowed to be mothers for fucks sake. A lot of women want kids but they don't get to have 'em, then there is Janice Anderson." She shakes her head. "I hate her back, if that helps."
"Why is your sudden outburst?" I ask her.
Blaire rarely talks about deep stuff and this is going deep stuff.
"I've been thinking about it-" She says softly.
"About choosing money over flesh?" I joke trying to lighten her mood.
"No." She says. "No. Kids."
"What about them?"
I don't think about kids anymore.
I am still trying to forget the one I had.
"Do you want kids?" I ask tentatively.
"Not really." She sighs. "Not really, I don't."
"Then what are you thinking about?"
"Nothing." She say. "Forget it. Whatever." She sighs.
"You're not pregnant are you?" I ask horror flashing over my face.
Jesus God.
Blaire, oh Goodness.
"No!" She shrikes. "Jesus Christ, no."
"Oh." I exhale. "Okay."
"Are you sure?" I press.
"Yes." She laughs. "I went to a doctor before your birthday, she checked me up and put me on birth controls. I am safe."
"Okay." I sigh.
"I was scared, I might be." She whispered. "I mean, I heard morning after pills fail-"
"You were having condom less sex?" I ask horror all over my face. "Blaire!"
The last thing she needs right now is an unplanned pregnancy.
Possibly an abortion.
A broken heart and more mess then she can collect herself cause I for one know Roman won't be there to pick up the pieces.
In this life, in the mafia life, a class, a marriage is required to bring a Don's or Capo Bestone's child in this world.
And for that Roman sure screams a lot for the man who killed his fiancé.
"Twice." She says holding two fingers up. "Twice. I am fine, I make Roman wear a condom. I don't want another scare or a pregnancy. Period. Kids make me vomit."
I nod and pick up my phone to see the time.
Six thirty.
"How long have we been doing this shit?" Blaire asks eyeing our meni-pedi supplies on the bed.
I giggle.
"You're staying for dinner." I declare clearing off my supplies from the bed and put them in places.
"Roman might throw a fit." She crinkles up her nose.
And since when does she care?
"But who cares?" She says plopping down on the bed in a seductive position. "I'm not complaining about him fucking miss croissant, so who is he to boss me?"
"That's Angelo's side." I point out.
"Ew." She shots up from the bed and proceeds to dust the invisible dirt off, of her body. "Cooties."
I laugh making my way down stairs to the kitchen.
"What are you gonna make?" Blaire asks sitting herself down in the counter making herself helpful.
"Pasta." I say. "Tortellini."
"I don't know what that is." She says. "But yeah okay."
"Remember we had ravioli?" I say bringing the packets of frozen tortellini from the freezer. "It's same with just a different shape."
She nods as I take out the pre made pasta from the packets and put them aside.
"Chuck it in the oven." Blaire says as I take out pre blanched tomato cans. Two of them.
"It'll get cooked too much." I say.
"Cooking is hard-"
"Signora Ariel?" I hear Bertie's voice as he stands behind the kitchen counter.
"Hey, Bert. I then back with a smile ready to ask him what he wants with his pasta.
"Capo Bestone and Don said they won't be home tonight and that signora Blaire is allowed to stay at the penthouse."
"Lies!" Blaire retorts. "Roman said he has just one meeting-"
"I delivered what I was told to."
"And where is Capo Bestone and Don?" I ask. "Don't lie, Bert."
The man sighs realising he was lost. "Minx."
"That's it." I say throwing the rag I was using to open the tomato cans in the counter. "That's where he's been all day, hasn't he?"
"Sí." He says.
"Even though he was given a week off, he was at the club." I say. "And correct me if I am wrong, Anne is there too?"
Alberto sighs. "Sí."
"We're going clubbing." Blaire says jumping down from the counter and putting the pasta back on the freezer.
"I don't think if that's a good idea." Bertie says.
"I'd like the car ready please, Bertie." I say in a soft voice feeling hurt and betrayed.
"Ariel." He sighs.
"Please." I say.
Bertie stands for a moment assessing that is his loyalty to his boss more important or the hurt in my voice more painful for him.
"The car will be ready in five." The man says.
I nod him off.
Nothing of mine fits Blaire. It's a size big and a size short.
It was frustrating me until I pulled out a skirt from the very back of the wardrobe drawer.
"There." I handed it over to her with a top that was stringy at the back, so it would fit.
"You don't even wear these kind of dress." She complains loudly. "Sluty."
I crack a forged smile as I fumble with my black bodycon with spaghetti straps.
I wore this dress twice.
I rarely have time, for clubbing.
And this isn't how I wanted Blaire and It's clubbing date to initiate.
"Good thing we painted our nails though." Blaire says.
I could tell she was nervous.
I wasn't. I was hurt.
Just- hurt.
He fucks me all night, reassures me, sleeps beside me and just wakes up to go back where left off last night? To her?
We get dressed quick, finish off with minimal make up and put our shoes on before we make ways downstairs where the assigned SUV with windows tinted black stood, Bertie sitting behind the steering wheel.
Blaire was nervous and upset.
I have no idea what scenario was playing through her head but it clearly wasn't a good one given that she kept bouncing her knee and running her fingers through her wavy hair.
I looked out of the window as the car pulled through the busy road into the heart of the city.
My head a mess. More then usual.
It was a five to ten minute drive from the pent house to the club and soon we parked into the entrance as Bertie got out and solved it with the bouncer before opening the door for us.
"You have somebody looking after, Coco, don't you?" I ask the man fumbling with the chain strap of my clutch.
"Sí." Bertie agrees. "You can still turn around and have a quiet night in-"
"No." I whisper. "I'd like to see what he's doing to celebrate his break with his old friend, Bertie."
"Ariel-"
"I've waited three weeks." I say years threatening to leave.
Why am I even emotional?
Angelo has been like this since forever.
He does whatever he wants to.
"I've cried my self to self often scared and worried, tensed to death and this is the pay back I get."
"Ariel, please." He says torn between his loyalty and friendship that he developed with me. "Just get in the car and I'll drive both of you back to penthouse-"
I shake my head patting his chest as I make my way to the club entrance closely followed by Blaire.
The bouncer doesn't ask for ID or anything, neither do we have to shove a roll of cash on to his hand we just get past the line and into the heavy surrounding of the club premises.
It was packed.
Men on the way from office, ladies for a girls night out, friends looking for a good fuck, twisted cops, high government officials, old men desperate for a good time away from the nagging of their wives-
Blaire and I make way to the half circular bar where the barman accompanied by some other barman was mixing several cocktails.
"This place is jammed." Blaire says squeezing both of us in among the mesh of people standing to order drink.
"I doubt they'll find us, in this human sea." Blaire complains.
"Oh trust me, they will." I roll my eyes my heels clicking to the floor as I wait for our turn to order.
And I don't care if they don't. Angelo can come and kiss my ass.
"Two chocolate milk in the rocks." I say. "Put whipped cream on top. Lots of it and put the bills on my tab."
The barman nods recognising my face even though I look nothing like I do on regular work nights.
"On the contrary." I hear a voice instead. "Put the beautiful lady's drinks on my tab instead."
It's not a voice or a face that I recognise, but Blaire grabs my arm in grip, I pat her to cool down.
"And why would he do that?" I ask leaning against the bar edge. "I don't know you."
"I do hope you'd like to know me." The man says with a slight smirk. I can't really place his accent.
It's weirdly mixed.
"What makes you think there is something to know about you, Mr-"
"Mikhail Ivanov." He says. "You can call me Mike."
"Well Mr. Ivanov." Blaire pipes up. "We have enough money to buy some drinks for ourselves thank you."
Jesus, Blaire, down.
"We'll find you when we're out of cash, though." She smiles. "Lovely offer you gave us-"
"I like your friend." He chuckles. "Where you from sweetheart?"
"Geographically I'm from 52.3°N, 1.1°W. Right now I'm from Naples, Italy." She smiles meanly.
The man looks confused. "What are you?" He chuckles.
"Human, of course." Blaire says as if it's most obvious thing ever and grabs her drink from the barman and nudges me to do the same then pulls me away from the presence of Mikhail Ivanov.
"That bitch had a gun, Ariel." She hisses once were away and have found ourselves a high table. "You were flirting with a bitch with a gun who talks weird." She hissed.
"You sleep with a man who is a pathological killer." I point out she dismisses me with a wave of her hand and a click of her tongue. "I sleep with a man who is a psychotic asshole who'd put bullets in the skull and threat later-"
"He talks weird." She says. "Like if he's the kind of people who kidnaps girls and cuts open their liver and has it for dinner!" She whines.
I sigh.
"Blaire."
"What?" She cries dramatically.
"Were under protection." I say. "There are CCTV all around." I add.
"Oh." She registers.
I nod.
"Well I still don't like Mikhail Ivanov or whatever the vodka fuck."
I shake my head and use the straw to sip my drink.
"I missed this place though." She complains. "Let's go see the dance."
Reluctantly she walks me toward the strip club part of the club through the hallway that was too well known to us.
"Damn look at all that booty shaking." Blaire hoots curling a finger in her mouth and whistling loudly as she enjoys the dance.
Is this what we're doing here? Watching strip dance?
This is the most exposed part of the club that is seen directly from the VIP deck and the office.
Gold job, Blaire bear.
"I swear if the piglets don't see us now, I have no idea when they will." Blaire says licking the whipped cream using her tongue.
"They probably won't." She shrugs. "They're probably balls deep inside miss croissant. At once."
Her imagination makes me wince. "That sounds scary."
Blaire shrugs whistling and hitting and clapping again.
She's clearly enjoying this.
"This look oddly satisfying when I watching this." I comment. "Like- this is art."
"I know right." Blaire says. "I wish I had good shake able booty too."
"Booty exercise helps-" I say
"Signora Ariel?" I hear a rumbly deep voice. "Signora Blaire?"
I turn to face the burly man, muscles the size of two Blaire's standing behind us, body clad in a work suit.
"The Boss would like to have an audience with you two." He says.
"Which one of your boss?" I ask raising am eyebrow.
"Both, Miss." He says narrowing his eyes not liking the talk backs.
"Well, tell them fuck off." Blaire says.
"Orders are to hurl you if necessary." He says back.
"Especially you." He points at Blaire.
"Of course." Blaire smiles flirtatiously.
"Roman hates me minus the time he's inside me, then he loves me, Oh, Blaire." She moans mocking Roman's accent.
"Tell him to wank himself to death and leave me alone cause if I see him right now, I'll strangle him." She hisses. "With his dick."
"Miss Ariel?" Unprovoked he turns to me.
"What?" I ask as my eyes trail up toward the VIP deck.
Roman wasn't there. Angelo was.
He had lost his suit jacket, black silk shirt donned his muscular frame, the top several buttons undone, chain dangling from the neck baring a white gold cross while he watches me with intent determination.
I divert my eyes from the man leaning against the VIP deck.
"If he wants an audience with me, tell him to come find me and stop sending his representatives. I deserve that much." I snap turning my head and focusing on the dancers on stage four.
I want to get back up there, feel the excitement vibrating through me. Feeling how my body reacts to attention.
Damn if I don't miss myself up on that stage.
"Talking big now, are we?" I hear him before his smell evade me.
The expensive spicy citrus and woody scent sends my head into a frenzy.
And then I feel his hands on me. Around my waist pulling me back so my behind snuggles his restrained erection.
"You look edible but I am debating if punishment comes first."