Читать книгу Red Velvet - Noelle Mack - Страница 6

Sofia picked up the remote and turned off the baseball game with one press of her press-on fingernail. The screen went black. “They lost, Ruthie. Pay up,” she said with a smirk.

“How could they do this to me?” Ruth wailed. “I love the Mets.”

“Then you’re a fool for love. You owe me.”

“Guess so.” Ruth grabbed her beat-up purse off the coffee table. She took her wallet out, parted the leather folds, held it upside down and shook out a bus ticket. “But I’m broke.” She shook the wallet again. A small blue feather drifted down.

“Is that all you have?” Her cousin raised a perfectly tweezed eyebrow. “A parakeet feather and a bus ticket? I shoulda known.”

“That’s right. Until next Friday.” Ruth mentally calculated the budgetary impact of losing a $50 bet to her cousin. “You know this means no new birdcage for Bambino. No new raincoat for Tuff.” Her little mutt looked up at Ruth with a sad expression, and jumped on the couch beside her.

“You’re breaking my heart.” Sofia tapped a cigarette out of the pack in her other hand and sucked it between her lips.

“No smoking.”

Sofia gave her an insulted look and spoke around the unlit cigarette. “I’m not smoking it, I’m sucking it. Do you see a lighter in my hand?”

“No. Just wanted to make sure.”

“I don’t smoke unless I see an ashtray, and this is your place, so no ashtrays. Okay, tell you what. I’ll give you the cash.”

“Huh?”

“The Pet Palace on Fordham Road is having a sale on birdcages,” Sofia said in a coaxing tone. “Beeyootiful white wire birdcages with bonus plastic bell. The Bambino would love one. But if you take the fifty, you must do my bidding. You said you would.”

Ruth groaned. “Oh yeah. That contingency clause I supposedly agreed to—you mentioned it at a critical point in the last inning. I don’t remember anything except the outfielder dropping a fly ball.”

“I do.”

“So tell me. What do I have to do?”

Her cousin looked her up and down. “Get dressed up and get out in public.”

“No.”

“You can’t say no. You want that fifty, I know you do. All you hafta do is strut your stuff and that ugly dog in front of Mrs. Agnelli and all the neighbors and God himself.” Sofia took the cigarette out of her mouth and crossed herself with it in her hand. “Who will not believe that you actually own nice clothes.”

“I don’t. You gotta lend me some.”

“Not a problem.” Sofia cast a disparaging glance at Ruth’s sweatpants, grubby T-shirt and scuffed sneakers.

Tuff made a yarping noise. Ruth pulled the dog closer to her. “He’s upset. You didn’t have to say he was ugly.”

“I was being polite,” Sofia pointed out. “And it won’t kill you to get dressed up and get out. All you do is sit in this rent-controlled apartment and write those freaky little poems. You haven’t worked in, what, a year?”

Ruth shrugged and stroked Tuff’s coarse fur. “I’m on hiatus.”

“Yeah, from life.”

“My dad told me to find myself before he died. You know he left me money. Not much, but enough.”

Sofia took the cigarette out of her mouth and eyed her narrowly. “At least that whore he left your mother for five years ago didn’t get it all.”

“No, because Mom had a good lawyer. And she’s been living it up ever since at Lake Como,” Ruth pointed out.

Her cousin shook her head sadly. “Which means you have no one to look after you but me. I’m tellin’ ya, Ruthie, their divorce gave you a complex. You think being happy is wrong. You didn’t even have a good time in college. No, you hadda go and major in English, so you could be unsuccessful. You don’t go out, you don’t date. And you need a makeover anyway.”

“Thanks a lot.” Ruth glared at Sofia, who set down the cigarette and took out a compact. Parting her lips, Sofia examined her long, sweeping eyelashes for glumps of mascara. Not a glump in sight. Ruth wondered how Sofia managed to look so good just to watch a ball game. “For your information,” she began, “I have been thinking of writing experimental short fiction instead.”

“Oh, please.”

“I have a few chapters of a novel on my hard drive. Does that impress you?”

Sofia shot her a hopeful look. “Is it a romance novel?”

“No. But the screenplay I started has romantic elements.”

“You could write for the soaps!” Sofia’s expression was awestruck. She even looked at Ruth instead of the little mirror in her hand.

Ruth only shrugged. Her cousin was a lifelong fan of The Young and the Restless, a show that Ruth privately thought of as The Hung and the Reckless. All the characters did was sleep around with everyone in the little town of…what was it called…Glandview?

She snapped out of it when Sofia clicked the mirror shut and gave her a worried look.

Ruth sighed. Her cousin meant well. “Okay, okay. When it gets dark, I will put on borrowed finery and go for a walk.” Tuff wriggled with enthusiasm and yarped loudly. “Uh-oh. He heard the W word.”

Sofia stuck the cigarette back in her mouth and frowned, making it hang down. “Why dontcha get a normal dog? He can’t even bark.”

“Later, Tuff. Not now. When my evil cousin goes home. She’s making this up anyway. I never agreed to this.”

Sofia shook her head. “Where’s my handbag?”

“What does it look like?” Ruth said innocently.

“Black patent leather mock croc. As if you didn’t know. You’re stalling for time.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Because you’re afraid I kept the proof.” Sofia lifted her coat and found the handbag. She scrabbled through it, then thrust out a crumpled piece of paper.

“That’s your handwriting,” Ruth said indignantly. “And your words.”

“You signed it.”

“Five months ago.”

“A bet is a bet.” Sofia smoothed out the piece of paper and read aloud. “I, Ruth Caterina Pirelli, biggest idiot in the five boroughs, swear to pay my beloved cousin Sofia $50 next time the stupid Mets lose, because I think they can’t lose. And I have to do whatever she says if I can’t pay.”

Ruth hugged her dog. “Kill her, Tuff Stuff. Eat the bet. Save me.”

Sofia got up and put on her coat, still talking around the unlit cigarette. “I’m gonna drive home so I can smoke this thing and see what’s in my closet. Then I’m coming back. Before the sun goes down.”

Unaccustomed as she was to pantyhose and cold to the bone, Ruth flipped the finger at Sofia, watching from inside her car. “You planning to drive around after me?” Ruth asked.

Sofia rolled down the window. “Nah. I gotta get back in a few minutes. Lou’s making carbonara sauce. He always screws it up unless I hover.”

“So you trust me not to skitter right back through my door, huh? Tuff, quit yanking me around!” The dog stopped pulling and gave her a who-me look, then lifted a leg and did his business on a hydrant. At least he was happy. And Bambino would be happy in a new, bigger cage. Ruth was not happy but she could always write a poem about it. She tugged down the black leather micromini her cousin had picked out and turned up the collar of the matching, tightly fitted black leather jacket. The top underneath was buttoned all the way up but it wasn’t going to keep her warm.

“Did I say I trusted you? Walk.” Sofia pointed a fingernail. “To the end of the next block. While I watch.”

Ruth walked. The red velvet high heels Sofia had insisted she wear had half-inch platform soles, which made her sway, then stumble, with every step. The dog, pulling hard on his leash, didn’t help.

She swallowed a mouthful of hair, then dragged it out of her mouth. The spring breeze was whipping her long, dark hair around. Between it and the wraparound sunglasses she’d insisted on to conceal her identity, Ruth felt like a blind person. With the world’s smallest Seeing Eye dog. Who was doing his best to drag her in front of the bus coming down the center of Hughes Street. The red velvet high heels were killing her.

But her humiliation was not complete. In the brick house next door, Mrs. Agnelli came to the picture window under the two-tone metal awning, clutching a dustcloth for the figurines she kept on the sill. Her eyes widened when she saw Ruth.

Ruth turned around just long enough to see Sofia wave good-bye from the car at the corner. She heard her cousin take off and held her head high, shortening Tuff’s leash so she could walk quickly by the house. She wasn’t fast enough to escape the notice of Mr. Agnelli, who rustled up out of the camellia bush he was pruning in the small front yard and stared too.

She picked up the pace, dragging Tuff for a change. This was a walk. He had peed. The sparse grass of early spring that edged the sidewalks couldn’t be that thrilling, not even to a sniffing fanatic like him. But once she got around the corner, he planted his paws and refused to budge. Oh, yeah—one of the natural wonders of her Bronx neighborhood, the World’s Most Fascinating Hedge, was just ahead. She’d meant to go the other way but the Agnellis had distracted her.

Tuff loved that hedge, had to sniff every leaf and then lick it, the little perv. And then he had to sniff the World’s Second Most Fascinating Hedge down the next block.

The hell with that. Sofia had driven away, and Ruth was going to get around the corner and through the alley to the back of her apartment building. Just why her cousin thought this experience would be good for her, Ruth didn’t know.

She looked down at Tuff, then up, and did a doubletake. A white stretch limo with tinted black windows was careening toward her. On the sidewalk. She grabbed her dog, pressed herself into the scratchy hedge, and prayed. The stretch limo came to a stop about a foot away. She let out her breath.

The guy at the wheel rolled down the back window and then popped the trunk, stabbing at unseen buttons until he got the passenger side window down. He leaned over to it and yelled at her. “Hey, Gina! Hop in!”

“That’s not my name,” she snapped.

He seemed taken aback. “Ain’t you Gina? They said she’d be on this street, maybe walking her dog.”

Friggin’ idiot. All the same, she softened her tone. “What a coincidence.” She didn’t want to argue with someone who was so stupid or so drunk that he drove a limo on the sidewalk. Ruth wasn’t even sure she wanted to step out of the hedge. The dry twigs prickled her but she stayed where she was, clutching Tuff. “Lots of people have dogs,” she added, hoping he would go away.

He didn’t. The limo door swung open and the driver got out. “Ya sure ya ain’t her? I’m s’posed to bring Gina to Brooklyn. You know, for dinner with la famiglia.” He leered at her.

Tuff growled. Ruth wasn’t sure if her dog had ever seen a real, live goombah but he was seeing one now. The man wore a sagging, badly made black suit that pulled across his beefy shoulders and a black sweater underneath it. Ruth glanced down. Yeah, his pants were creased to kill, but too short for his thick legs. And he had on narrow, custom-made loafers that pouched out around his bunions.

“Why’re ya in the hedge?” he asked curiously.

“I didn’t want to get run over and I was afraid you didn’t see me.”

The goombah laughed loudly. “No, no, I saw ya. All of ya. That itsy-bitsy skirt don’t leave nothin’ to the imagination. I was drivin’ on the sidewalk for laughs because I thought ya were Gina. Ya live around here?”

Ruth emerged from the hedge and set Tuff down. “No. Gotta go. Nice talking to you.”

“Hey, wait a min—” He shut up when an unmarked police car pulled up next to the limo. The car was a gleaming navy blue and it looked brand new. Maybe a hybrid. Neither of them had heard it driving down the street.

She looked behind the wheel, hoping it was a cop she knew. Actually, it was driven by a detective she knew, although the tinted windows made it a little hard to see him. At least she thought Nicky Del Bianco had made detective. He was supersmart, a John Jay graduate with a master’s in criminal justice who’d started out as a beat cop just because he wanted to, in the Bronx neighborhood they’d all grown up in.

And he was a total sex god. Always had been—some of the younger nuns even used to check him out on the sly in high school. Nick was unbelievably hot-looking, with dark-gold hair and tawny skin and olive green eyes with thick black lashes. From northern Italy—well, his father was. Maybe a little Swiss in the genetic mix, maybe Austrian? Ruth would have to ask Sofia, who prided herself on knowing things like that. His mother was from the south, Calabria, like practically everybody else in this neighborhood, Ruth was pretty sure.

Her cousin still got stars in her eyes when she talked about Nick now and then, even though she’d been married forfriggin-ever to Joey Castiglia, who was almost as hot. But no one was as hot as Nicky.

Ruth looked through the windshield at him. He was resting his large, strong, tawny hands over the steering wheel like they were lion paws. Able to break the neck of a goombah with a single blow.

Stop thinking like Sofia, she told herself sternly. Ahead of her by a few years, her cousin had gone through Catholic school with Nicky, writing SOFIA + NICKY4EVER and Sofia Del Bianco (Mrs.) and the names she wanted for their children—Nicky Jr., Anthony Marco, and Brianna—on the inside covers of her notebooks. Hoping to get somewhere, somehow, with him, Sofia had even attended mass when his mother did, Nicky being conspicuously absent from Our Lady of Mount Carmel on most Sundays because he stayed out so late on Saturday nights. But as far as Ruth knew, Nicky had never even kissed her cousin.

The other man looked at him uneasily as Nicky got out and kept the car between himself and the two of them, leaning on its roof. He took a small ID folder out of his jacket pocket and flashed his shield in a bored way. The high-gloss paint reflected his killer smile upside down as a killer frown. Ruth had a feeling he knew the goombah and didn’t like him. “Ignazio. Long time no see. Who’s your friend?”

Huh. Nicky didn’t recognize her. Ruth was about to open her mouth and enlighten him when she realized she would be enlightening the goombah at the same time. She clammed up.

Ignazio gave a theatrical shrug. “We just met.”

“Uh-huh.” He looked directly at Ruth. “Is he bothering you? Need a ride somewhere?”

“Okay.” She picked up Tuff again and edged past the limo driver, who was sweating.

“Get this boat off the sidewalk, Ig. Don’t make me run the plates. I don’t even wanna know where you stole it from.”

“I didn’t steal it,” the limo driver said, looking outraged.

Nicky shook his head as if he didn’t want to hear another word. The sunlight hit his dark-gold hair just right, Ruth noticed, and the breeze ruffled it. Even though he was standing on the other side of his car, he was tall enough for her to see through the window that he was in plainclothes. As in faded jeans. And a nice shirt that the breeze kept pushing against his body. Chest to die for, biceps ditto. He’d been a golden boy in high school and he was a golden man now.

It crossed her mind that maybe Sofia had set this up—but no, that couldn’t be. Ruth had gotten incredibly lucky, that was all.

She wobbled to the unmarked car on those goddamned red velvet platforms. Safe in her arms, Tuff indulged in a few parting growls at the goombah.

“Go back to Brooklyn, Ig,” Nick said quietly. “Don’t let me catch you around this neighborhood again.”

The other man opened his mouth to protest, then shut it again. He got behind the wheel of the limo, puffing a little, and slammed the door. Then the same fandango with the windows started again—up, down, up—until he figured it out and drove very carefully off the sidewalk, maneuvering the white limo with a little more skill than he’d shown before.

Nicky watched him go around the corner and turned to her. “Where to? I’m Nick Del Bianco, by the way. Detective NYPD.”

“Um, that way,” Ruth began, gesturing vaguely. He really didn’t know who she was. Interesting. Very interesting. She decided to change her destination and go someplace else besides home. “But could you drop me on 187th Street instead, near Arthur Avenue? At De Lillo’s? I want to get a cannoli.” She did want one—the crunchy sweet tubes of pastry filled with flavored whipped cream were her favorite treat.

He looked at her like she was a cannoli, grinning like a hungry wolf. “Sure.”

Like mirror images, they opened their respective doors, got in and closed them at the same time.

“How about that. Simultaneous…never mind.” He grinned at her and started the car. Tuff wriggled so he could look out the window and then he yarped. “Is that how he barks?”

“Yeah, when he’s happy. Thanks for rescuing me. I mean, that guy wasn’t really bothering me, but I was kinda nervous.”

Nick drove, keeping his eyes on the street. “They don’t call him Ig the Pig for nothing.” He didn’t say anything more for a minute, just went left and then right, moving into the center lane.

“Oh, so you, like, know him?”

“He’s on our list, put it that way. Why was he talking to you? I could tell you didn’t want him to.”

“The fabulous Del Bianco, psychic. How’d you pick that up?”

The fabulous Nick looked at her and gave her a half smile. “Just observant.”

“He thought I was someone else. Someone named Gina, who was supposed to go to a thing in Brooklyn with la famiglia.”

“Got it. Gina Bertelli. She works the motels near LaGuardia now. You do kinda resemble her, at least in shades and that outfit.” He gave her an appreciative glance. “But you’re a class act all the way and she—uh, she isn’t. Believe me, you don’t want to spend a sun-filled, fun-filled weekend with that famiglia.” Nick slowed down and a gypsy cab behind him honked. He waved the guy around. “Hard to find a spot near De Lillo’s.”

She looked ahead on the bustling street, thinking fondly that the neighborhood had hadn’t changed much. Her mother’s falling-apart photo album from her 1950s childhood showed the same brick apartment buildings with Art Deco details, butted up against much older tenements. And the people hadn’t changed much, either.

The local women still shopped almost every day, buying everything fresh, going in and out of the stores: Borgatti’s for pasta, Calandra’s for cheese, Biancardi’s for meat, Tino’s Salumeria for cold cuts, and Randazzo’s Sons for fish. They sniffed and sampled everything, gossiped, prepared to stock up shelves and refrigerators that were already crowded with good things to eat. Ruth pointed. “Up ahead.”

Nick pulled over into an empty spot by a fire hydrant. “Okay. You and Tuff enjoy yourselves. I’d stay for a cannoli, but I gotta get back to the precinct. See you around, Ruth.”

She pulled down her sunglasses and looked at him with mingled disappointment and amusement. “You knew it was me all along.”

“Yeah, I remember you tagging around after your cousin Sofia. But you were always so shy. Pretty, though.”

Ruth gaped at him. Had Nicky Del Bianco really thought of her as pretty? The thought was mind-boggling.

“But you had me fooled for a little while. I really didn’t recognize you at first. So are you in disguise or what?”

“Kinda. I lost a bet on the Mets.”

Nicky gave her a pitying look. “They never win any more.”

“Sofia made me pay up by dressing me like this.”

He gave her a long onceover. “Yeah? She did you a favor. You’re a knockout in that. Can I have your number?”

Ruth swallowed hard. She wanted to scream it to the heavens—Nick Del Bianco wants to hook up with me!—or at least into Sofia’s ear on a cell phone. “Uh, yeah. Sure. But I don’t have a pen. Can’t you look it up on your superduper cop computer or something? I thought you guys could get anybody’s number.”

“Yeah, we can. I just wanted to know if you wanted me to have it. And now I know.”

“Then, uh, call me.” What in holy hell had gotten into her, Ruth wondered. Were the hooker clothes making her bold? Or was it because, Nick, the sex god, was only six inches away? Looking her up and down…from her tousled hair to her red velvet shoes.

She liked the way his look made her feel. Warm all over. Hot all over. Um, she needed to think about that. Ruth reached out to unlatch her door and swing it open. She slid halfway out of the seat, holding Tuff, who suddenly wanted to get down in a big way because he saw another mutt in front of De Lillo’s.

The dog’s front paws scrabbled at the air and his back paws caught in her micromini, hiking it up so high her black panties showed. Brand new—a present from Sofia that she’d added to this ridiculous outfit. Teeny-tiny. Sheer front and back. Decorated with a crystal drop that hung from a thin, black satin ribbon to right about where she was desperately pressing her thighs together.

She could drop her dog or yank down her skirt, but not both. Tuff was going nuts barking, trying to escape, so that answered that. Ruth got a better grip on him and felt her face slowly turn beet red.

Nicky looked. And looked. “Nice panties, Ruth,” he said at last.

“Thanks,” she gasped out.

“I like the little thing on a ribbon. What is that?”

“Ah, a decoration. A crystal.”

Kept in place by the pantyhose, it did catch the eye. Then Tuff launched himself out of her arms, and she grabbed the hem of her skirt, yanking it down. Okay. She was halfway decent. Good enough. At least no one at De Lillo’s had seen. “Bye-Nickyseeyathanksfortheride,” she said all in one breath and went after her dog.

She bent over to grab Tuff, missed and grabbed him again. She stepped back, stumbling in the high heels and her butt slammed into a man’s crotch. Ohmigod, is he hung, whoever he is, she thought, and turned a beetier red as she whirled around to face…Nick.

“Sorry. Just thought I’d help you.” His low, amused voice sent a scorching heat through her. And there was a sexy edge to it that was probably making the tiny crystal decoration on her panties chime in cosmic harmony. “Tell you what. Put the pooch in the car and I’ll buy you a cannoli.”

A few hours later, they had eaten an entire dinner but backwards: two cannolis and three espressos at De Lillo’s, followed by two bowls of the famous puttanesca at Dominick’s, salad, chewy bread, and most of a bottle of good wine. By the time the check came, Nick was sitting close enough to touch her thigh. And he did, sliding a hand up her pantyhosed flesh. Ruth was on fire with lust.

“Want to come over to my place?” he asked at last, not innocently.

“Yes,” replied a person that Ruth had a feeling was her.

Nick called Sofia on his cell phone, holding it far away from his ear when she shrieked at the sound of his name, then demanded to speak to Ruth, getting the explanation out of her in record time and squealing with glee.

“Ruthie, all I wanted to do was get you out of your stinkin’ apartment! And you manage to run into Nicky Del Bianco? Do you know how lucky you are? I mean, he is a womanizer, but who cares, right?” Five more minutes of yapping and Sofia agreed to babysit Tuff for the night. Bambino would just have to tuck his little blue head into his speckled breast and chill until Ruth got back.

They dropped the dog off. Sofia, who’d hurriedly changed into something low-cut and tight, cooed over Tuff and cuddled him in her arms like she’d never said the dog was ugly, all for Nick’s benefit. But Ruth didn’t mind. She could hear Joe snoring in the den from where they stood. Sofia was too nice to invite them in, casting an appreciative glance at the arm Nick draped over Ruth’s shoulders. “Have fun, you two,” was all she said as she closed the door.

It was getting late and it was suddenly a lot colder. Ruth shivered as they walked back to his car. Nick let go of her, clicked open the locks with his key, and reached into the back seat to hand her his leather jacket. An old, beat-up one that he’d probably had forever—she put it around her shoulders like it was the nicest thing she’d ever worn.

Nick drove through the quiet streets of the neighborhood, not saying much, while Ruth digested…everything. Was he a womanizer? Well, she wanted to be womanized. Every part of her wanted to be, especially the lonesome flesh now moistening up a storm in her sheer black panties. How long had it been? She hated to think. And who had it been with? She didn’t want to remember.

Nick’s big hand, resting idly on the gearshift knob as he drove, would soon be sliding between her legs. He turned to smile at her. Those sensual lips would soon be kissing hers. Ruth closed her eyes and trembled. Being on fire with lust was totally fucking scary—and a lot of fun.

He turned into a driveway and parked in the garage of a new condo building. “Here we are. Ready?”

“S-sure,” she said.

Next thing she knew, she was in his living room, drinking something sweet and boozy and straddling his lap. With the exception of his jacket and hers, which he’d hung up, she was fully clothed. Him too.

Nick took her glass and nuzzled her neck. “So what’s your fantasy?” he whispered.

“You,” she whispered back.

He stroked her back and her ass, and kissed her luxuriously. Ruth got her fingers into his dark golden hair and kissed him back, pressing herself down on his hard-on. The tight miniskirt got in the way, and she grabbed it by the hem, rolling it up so she could spread her thighs.

“Oh, man. Make yourself comfortable,” he murmured. “What a body. How come I never saw you around the neighborhood after you graduated high school?”

“Because I went to NYU and lived in a dorm in downtown Manhattan.”

“Why’d you come back to the Bronx?”

“Long story. Anyway, maybe you did see me around. I don’t usually dress like this.”

He ran his hands over her pantyhose-clad ass and thighs. “Mmm. I love it all. The skirt. The tight top and all those tiny buttons, which I’m going to undo, one by fucking one. The red velvet high heels. When I get your clothes off, those shoes are going to stay on.”

“Oh, these clothes”—she tried to sound blasé—“they’re not me.”

He nibbled her ear. “Who cares? Pretend you’re working undercover.”

“Okay,” she laughed. “Ruth Pirelli, undercover poet. I like the sound of that.”

Nick slapped her on the butt in a friendly way. “The NYPD is looking for a few good poets.”

“Oh, yeah? Sign me up.”

He pulled her close into his chest and hugged her. “I was kidding. Undercover work is dangerous. And I don’t want to talk shop. We were talking about…what were we talking about?”

“My fantasy,” she said softly.

“Does it involve cops? Jesus, I hope so.”

She sat up a little and began to unbutton his shirt, stroking his nipples under the fine ribbed cotton of the tank-style undershirt he wore. They were nice and dark and tight. Nick smiled sensually.

“Yeah. One cop. Who’s been watching me.”

He arched a brow and gave her a lazy but intrigued look. “You like to be watched, huh?” He began to undo her buttons and caressed her breasts inside the bra. “Is that a nipple ring I feel?”

“Yeah.”

He groaned with pleasure. “You’re full of surprises. Shy women are the wildest. So why is this cop watching you? What’d you do?”

“I didn’t do anything. He lives in the building across from mine.”

Nick’s eyes narrowed. “For real? I’ll have to kill him.”

“No-oo. I’m making this up.”

He pulled both breasts gently out of her bra, propping them on the soft edge of the cups and playing with her nipples. “Mm. That ring is unbelievably sexy. Any other identifying marks? Tattoos?”

“I thought you didn’t want to talk shop.”

“Sorry. Get back to your fantasy. I’ll play with your tits and you talk.”

Ruth rubbed her overflowing breasts against his face. Nick latched onto the one with the delicate nipple ring first, putting the tip of his tongue through it and tugging gently, then licking the hard tip.

“So I just got home from a club. You know, I went dancing with a few guys but no one I wanted to go home with, so I called it a night—”

“A few guys? I’ll have to kill them too.” He cupped both of her breasts in his big, warm hands and looked up at her blissfully.

“Nice to know I can turn you into a homicidal lunatic.”

“I’m a man,” Nick said. “I guard what’s mine.”

Make that a red-blooded Italian-American man, Ruth thought, looking down at him with admiration she couldn’t hide. A native son of the beautiful Bronx and from around, just like her.

Knowing where he came from made her a whole hell of a lot more confident than usual. She pushed the other nipple into his mouth. “Shut up. So I’m feeling restless. Then I peek out the window and whaddya know—my cop is watching. I can’t see him clearly but I saw the curtain at his window move a little and I get a glimpse of the outline of his body.”

“Mmf.” Nick got busy with her tits again.

“I want to masturbate while he watches.”

He leaned his head back and tried to sit up straighter. “This could be good.”

Ruth raised herself up off his lap and kneeled on the sofa next to him, resting her arms on the back and her head on her arms. He turned to his side, taking in the new view.

She peeked at him, almost not believing that she could be so wanton. But it wasn’t like she didn’t know him. She had, for almost all her life, and that made all the difference.

And she wasn’t lying about her fantasy. She wanted Nick to watch what she was about to do, wanted to see how hot she could get him before he begged to penetrate her. He got up with alacrity, ripping off his shirt and tossing it aside.

“Keep your pants on. This is about watching.”

“Right.” He kneeled in back of her.

She hooked her thumbs in the elastic waistband of her pantyhose and pulled them down about halfway down her thighs, leaving her sheer underwear where they were, still cupping her soft, round ass cheeks.

Ruth set her knees wide apart so the pantyhose were stretched tight. Nick caressed the sides of her hips, pausing to press kisses on the black chiffon of her panties, licking right through the sheer material to her swollen cunt, tasting her briefly and then going back to ass worship.

He stopped only when she reached behind with both hands and began to pull her panties down about halfway, pausing to let him fondle and stroke her ass and take a few gentle nips. Then she pulled her panties down more, really slowly, until her behind was completely bare. She could feel his breath on her naked flesh, knew he was waiting for what she would do next.

“My panties are so wet,” she said softly, bringing her hands back in front of her and touching the soaked black chiffon from inside. She cupped her pussy with the same hand, then stimulated her labia with eager fingers, thrusting one in to get her juices flowing.

Nick sure as hell wasn’t shy. She felt him bury his face between her thighs, thrusting his tongue in where her fingers were, working on her sensitive flesh at just her rhythm and speed.His hands were around her ankles, and he stroked her red velvet shoes, toying with the straps like they were bondage gear, obviously enjoying giving oral pleasure to a woman who was still almost completely clothed.

Ruth knew what she looked like. She’d used mirrors to masturbate this way, looking into a little one that reflected a tall mirror in back of her, aroused by the sight of herself with a skirt pulled up, her panties stretched tautly between her thighs and her bare ass in full view, plump pussy in between. It was like watching another woman and being that woman at the same time.

Nick was licking her harder now, spreading her cheeks with strong hands. She pulled her fingers out of her pussy and stretched it open, very wide, so he could see the glistening pink.

He took his cue and shoved his tongue in deep, using it like a cock until Ruth began to moan with pleasure. He thrust his tongue again and again, giving her the hot loving she craved there, eager to be of service to her. And he stayed away from her throbbing clit, knowing instinctively that she wanted the experience to last.

After a very thorough tongue-fucking that a dyke would have been proud of—Ruth was almost in tears from the intensely pleasurable sensation of not being able to come—he pulled away, wiping his wet mouth on her warm, bare ass.

Nick got to his feet, standing over her to reach underneath and feel her breasts, overflowing the bra cups. He tugged on her nipples, handling the ringed one with particular gentleness; then kneeled on the sofa with his long, jeans-clad legs on either side of her half-bared thighs. She could feel his erect cock straining against his taut fly, pressing against the lowest part of her spine, almost between her ass cheeks, as he caressed her tits.

He reached around her waist and flipped her over like she weighed nothing, settling her on her back and grabbing her by the straps of the red velvet shoes. He lifted her legs and pulled her pantyhose and the black chiffon panties to her ankles, bunching them up so the little crystal on the ribbon was folded inside.

“I should make you stand up now,” he said, his voice raw. “The way you walk in those high heels just looks so sweet—like you don’t know what you’re doing. Not sophisticated at all, but so sexy.”

“Then let me strip. And I’ll walk for you. Naked. Nothing on but the shoes,” she whispered. Nick’s green eyes shone with deep desire and his cock looked ready to rip through his jeans. Ruth thought with pleasure that he still hadn’t been teased and pleased enough. As much as he’d seen, her peekaboo session wasn’t over.

She folded her legs, knees by her shoulders, so she could unbutton the shoe straps and treat him to a good look at the juicy, bare pussy squeezed between her thighs at the same time. He toyed with the delicate curls that rimmed her inner flesh, watching her take off the shoes. He bent to lick her there with passionate tenderness, as Ruth slowly rolled the pantyhose off her feet, then the black panties, wiggling her toes.

Nick came up for air, wiping his mouth and grabbed her ankles again. He rubbed her toes sensually, easing the slight cramp from their confinement with firm pressure that shot straight to her pussy and made her writhe.

“Hold still, Ruthie.” He put one of her legs over his shoulder, then bent the other one a little, licking and sucking her toes. He rested that foot on his thigh when he was done, and repeated his oral attentions on the other foot. Ruth wriggled with pleasure. Then he set that foot down too so that her thighs were widely spread and she was completely open to him. He stroked the sensitive, silky flesh on the inside of her thighs for a minute before he spoke again.

“Go ahead and masturbate,” Nick said. “I want to watch. I want to learn exactly what you like.” He gazed dreamily into her eyes until Ruth slid her hands down her body, undoing the last of the tiny buttons on her top and pulling it open but keeping it on. Her skirt was rucked up around her waist—below it, everything was bared to him.

She took her clit between her middle finger and her thumb, pulling it up from the slick flesh that enfolded it.

“Want me to suck that?”

“No,” she whispered. “I don’t want to come yet.” But she did want to turn him on even more. She rolled it, even pinched it, and heard him draw in a ragged breath. He was staring hard at her pussy. He watched her masturbate for a little while longer, then took her hand and sucked her hot juice off her fingers.

“Get up,” he said hoarsely. He picked up the red velvet shoes from the floor. “And put these back on and do that strip you promised me.”

“Mmm,” was all she said. Ruth sat up, feeling deliciously woozy, and bent over to strap on the shoes, standing with unsteady grace. He grabbed her skirt and pulled it down, flopping back into the sofa cushions.

“Oh, yeah. I can see your pussy from here. Go, girl.”

Her long, dark hair was mussed and half-hiding her face as she reached around behind and unzipped the skirt. With a seductiveness that amazed her, Ruth slid the micromini down over her hips and stepped out of it. Then she slipped her unbuttoned top down around the tops of her arms, using it to squeeze her breasts higher out of her bra.

She turned around, letting him look at her ass. Nick didn’t grab, just reached for it. His hands were big enough to clasp each cheek. He spread them while she stood there. She knew he was looking at that tight little hole in between. Ruth let the top slide off her arms to the floor and arched backward, letting him support her with his hands on her spread cheeks, and unhooking her bra.

Naked, feeling sexed up, she just stood there, teetering on those red velvet platforms. Then she twisted her hips and tried to turn around, but he wouldn’t let her.

Okay, she thought. Have it your way. Ruth bent over at the waist, sliding her fingers into her dripping wet pussy again, knowing he could see exactly what she was doing.

“Get back on the sofa and do that,” Nick moaned. “Face to the wall, ass to me.” She obeyed, amused by how fast he moved to get behind her again.

She got comfortable on her knees, working her fingers into her pussy again, making him crazy with watching. Then she reached completely around and inserted one slick finger into her asshole. Just the tip. Working nice and slow, penetrating the tight ring of puckered flesh.

He gasped. “Oh, no. I’m about to come in my pants.” She heard him unzip but she didn’t turn around, just pulled her finger out of her ass with a soft pop. He shucked his jeans and everything else.

Nick rested his hands on her bare ass, placing his legs to either side of hers the way he’d done before. “Reach back, Ruthie. Touch my cock. I’m too big to go in your ass. But thanks for the show.”

She did. The shaft that bobbed between her legs was long and heavy, and smooth as silk. She curled over a little to give him long strokes from base to the head, catching the first hot drop of cum by accident in her palm.

Rocked by lust, he grabbed her ass for support. “Condom,” he muttered. “Scuse me.” He let go, looking somewhere for the necessary article while she waited, being wickedly patient and swaying her bare ass, aware that she had excited him to the max.

Ruth wanted to shove that huge cock inside her, and get her pussy pounded by an Italian stallion in the worst way. She rested her face on her crossed arms, listening the foil packet being ripped open, and the quick, soft sound of a stiff penis being sheathed with practiced skill.

He came back to her. Nick positioned the plum-size head right at her labia, grabbing her buttocks again, prepared to thrust.

But Ruth beat him to it. She pushed hard against the wall back at him, taking him into her so deeply the pleasure made her cry out. She banged her ass against his taut groin again and again, and it took all his strength to hang on.

And all his willpower not to come first. But when Ruth curled over and began to rub her pussy with wild abandon, he could feel her fingertips just brushing his big balls.

With each touch of her hand, his scrotum tightened. Her flesh, his flesh, hot and slick, hard and soft, moved with turbocharged speed, until he held her hips motionless, his fingers digging into her, and cried out in a strong orgasm. And a second afterward, so did she.