Maid for the Mafia -
Au Naturale
**ALEX**
"... of course I will be maintaining my apartment in South Brook to keep up my appearances, although I don't really see any reason to commute back and forth during the week. I can oversee the upkeep of my place from here. As long as I visit my mother once a month on our regularly scheduled day, no one should be the wiser. However, I was thinking... maybe you should assign me a work phone. *You* know... because I'd prefer not to use my personal cell that much while I'm here. Santos doesn't call me all that often, but on the off chance that *he does*... it's probably best if he *can't* get ahold of me when I'm here. Just in case he has one of his techie's track my phone. Oh! And I was wondering..." Dana goes on. And on. And on. As she has been for the past forty-five wasted minutes of my life.
Doesn't this bitch need to breathe?
Is she on *speed*? Or did she maybe stop on the eastside for some Columbian white? Please tell me there is a chemical substance behind all of her chatter. Half of the shit she has said, not only will I not remember, I do not think *she* will. The more she talks, the harder it is becoming for me to keep my face neutral.
Reaching toward the corner of my desk, I grab my bottle of whiskey and my empty fourteen ounce tumbler. Pouring the glass so full it spills over the sides, I finally allow myself to send her an annoyed look before downing the entire goddamned thing. She's still talking when I'm done and I slam my glass down on the table so hard I hear the bottom splinter.
"...and then I could..." Her words finally slow and she tilts her head at me. "Mister DeMarco... drinking like that is terribly unhealthy. It causes weight gain and liver disease. Not to mention kidney failure. I hope you don't drink that way too often." She frowns and my eyes are immediately drawn to the innocent dip of her expressive little mouth.
"I don't," I answer. "Usually I prefer to down the bottle. I only used the glass this time to keep my hands busy."
"Oh," she squawks in surprise, her eyes immediately shifting back and forth in calculation. "I believe there's a name for that! It's a disorder of some kind! How often do you feel it? The need to keep your hands busy?"
"I don't." I chuckle, unbuttoning the three top buttons of my shirt as my temperature rises a bit.
"Oh... then why did you feel the need to just now?" she inquires, crossing her legs and leaning forward like she's just slipped into her therapist's shoes.
"Because you're seated about five feet away from me and my arms aren't quite long enough," I answer flatly, uncapping my whiskey bottle to take another desperate swig.
"Long enough for what?" she pesters, scooting her chair closer to my desk expectantly.
I sigh, rolling my eyes as her gaze wanders over the exposed muscles of my chest. "To strangle you without having to leave my fucking chair."
She starts to laugh, sees my fists clench, stops... "Y-you're serious?" She flinches, her eyes bulging. "Wh-why would you want to d-do that?" she stammers.
"I *don't* want to do that," I supply, just as the alcohol I've consumed finally trickles into my bloodstream. "But had you been three feet closer, I would have. Just to shut your fucking mouth."
Her brow furrows with disappointment and she nibbles her lip nervously. "I guess I get a bit excited from time to time." She shrugs helplessly. "I've been known to elaborate a little too extensively. People say I talk too much." "They weren't lying," I surmise. "Thinking before speaking might help. You should try it."
Her face flushes with indignance and she pushes herself back in her chair angrily, her arms crossing over her chest like a spoiled child.
*How old is she again?*
For a moment, I study her. Attempting to see *how* - if at all - she resembles that giant bull cousin of hers, but I can't connect a single feature. The dark chocolate hair color seems to be the only trait they share.
Santos is a fucking beast of a man. With arms *at least* as thick as Tiny's and a four inch spiked mohawk that crowns the top of his six foot five inch head. As much as I hate to admit it, he's not terrible looking. He's not as devastating as *I am*, but you definitely notice when he walks into a room.
Dana... she *might* be and inch or two over five feet. About the same height as Romany, but without any of Romany's supplemental charms. Dana would practically vanish standing next to my angel. *She's* not particularly eye-catching, for sure. There's just nothing about her that stands out. Although, she's pretty enough to fuck so long as she isn't talking. Her dark brown hair is a bit lifeless and falls to just about the middle of her back. She's wearing too much eye-shadow and sporting *feather* eye lashes that seem more pigeon than peacock when she bats my way. However, she doesn't appear to be wearing a bra under that silky black blouse of hers, which is probably the only thing she has going for her tonight. Then again, leaving her pert little breasts au naturale when she has all the curves of a twelve year old boy may not have been the best choice either.
But... her neck is long and inviting and her skin is a glowing shade of warm mocha. As much as she flaps her gums, I assume she must have good breath control and the wide set of her mouth tells me she can probably put her entire fist behind it. Her lips are small, but appear soft enough and definitely stretchable. With a heavy sigh, I take another deep, long drink, wanting to be thoroughly inebriated now that I've decided on a way to shut her up.
Then I glance at my grandfather clock next to the locked office door to check and see if the little red light behind the pendulum is still glowing. Seeing that it is, I angle my chair outward and begin to unbuckle my pants, watching Dana's face the entire time.
She stiffens, but I don't miss the telltale dilation of her pupils nor the instant pebbling of her tiny pearl nipples. Her tongue darts out to wind around her lips and I realize suddenly that all her wagging may have its uses after all. "Get over here," I command her, "and wrap that tongue of yours around my cock."
When I free myself, I'm only semi-erect, so I close my eyes for a moment and picture my angel wrapped in Damien's arms. The image gets me so angry, I can feel the blood pulsing behind my temple. So, I imagine how I am going to punish her later and my balls tighten almost immediately, my dick climbing to its full height so swiftly I heard sweet little Dana gasp.
I open my eyes to find the girl already kneeling between my thighs.
*Good girl.*
It's time to see if she's as much of a cocksucker as her cousin is.
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