Chapter 4 – Peter
Chapter Four
Peter
The woman looks at me and then tosses a head of curly hair over her shoulder.
Damn, she looks good for a woman in her forties.
But that’s expected. Black women age like a fine fucking wine.
Her friend isn’t as good looking. No offense, but Indian women don’t really do anything for me.
Or women from Afghanistan… I can’t really tell.
I look over at Flora, who gives me a knowing smirk.
“She’s cute. But she’s probably married.”
“Thanks, Flora.”
“I’ll go talk to her for you.”
“What? Like Cosima talked to Myra? You sit your ass at the bar and don’t move.”
“Or what?” Flora taunts me, clearly letting the alcohol get to her critical thinking. I glare at my sister, who makes it too easy for me to whip her back into shape.
“I’ll pay that fat fuck over there $10 to spank it.”
She bites her lip.
“Talk to her, or I’ll go over to her and tell her that you have a disgusting fetish for eating caca.”
“I swear, I’ll convince Michael to sell you off to an Arab billionaire.”
“Do you think he would pay for me to get new tits?”
“I’m going to talk to her,” I say to Flora. “But don’t you dare step out of my sight.”
“I’m not stupid,” Flora says. “I don’t want to end up in Pittsburgh forced to fuck my own cousin. I’ve told you that several times.”
“Good. I don’t want any trouble tonight.”
I walk across the bar to the woman dancing with her friend and wave to her once she turns her body to face me.
Her eyes catch mine and she… ignores me.
Her friend looks over at me and then taps the woman who caught my eye on the shoulder.
The friend says something to her, but the music is too loud for me to hear what they’re saying.
Please don’t run. The closer I get to the chick I was looking at, the more I want to talk to her. She shakes her head and then her friend grabs her shoulders and turns her body around to face me.
It’s the best opening that I’ll get.
“Hey. You look beautiful. What’s your name, gorgeous?”
“Gorgeous?”
“Sorry. I’ve been drinking.”
“I can tell,” she says. “Well… I’m not in a good place to meet a man right now.”
“Oh yeah?” I ask her. “So you’re not going to tell me your name because you’re in a bad place. That’s new.”
For a moment, all the drunken bliss vanishes from her face. She has a pretty round face with soft, full lips and long hair in a thick ass afro-textured hair.
“My husband died today.”
What the fuck? The smile returns to her face. I think she’s a little tipsy, but I can’t tell if she’s joking or just trying to get me to stop talking to her. The look on her face made that comment seem serious.
“Are you serious?”
“I’m drunk,” she says, shaking her head. “I’m sorry. Aricia. I’m a lawyer.”
A lawyer? Is it bad that I think she’s kind of hot to be a lawyer? No offense, but I never met a female lawyer who looks like Aricia. She’s naturally pretty with long dark eyelashes and a smile so fucking sexy it could knock me unconscious.
“What kind? Criminal defense?”
“I mostly take on the firm’s family law clients. My husband takes… My husband used to take on the criminal defense clients.”
Interesting. She holds her liquor pretty well for a drunk woman, I’ll be honest. I don’t know if I buy this story about the husband. Women can lie just as easily as men can, if not more easily… But she’s hot enough that I want to believe her about that dead criminal defense attorney husband.
If he’s alive… I’ll put him on retainer after fucking his wife.
“Your dead husband?”
Her face changes again. “Yes.”
Again, the strange shell-shocked look on her face when she says “yes” makes me believe this isn’t a joke or a twisted lie told by a skank trying to step out on her husband. Strange response to her husband dying today, I’ll be honest.
“I see.”
“I’m only here because my friend Rana convinced me that what happened today was traumatic.”
I want to reach out and touch her so badly it hurts. I stand a few inches closer, planning to buy her at least three tequila shots or however many it takes to slide her out of that form-fitting Calvin Klein work dress.
“So you’re drinking the pain away?” I tease her, keeping Aricia’s intense gaze. She must have everybody in those courtrooms wrapped around her finger. Damn, she’s fine. I’m a sane, red-blooded man with no particular preference for one skin tone or another but…
There’s something about a woman who has this deep, very dark brown skin color with those mahogany undertones that gets my dick hard.
Her exotic complexion and the rich shade of color makes me want to reach my hand out and touch what will surely be soft, supple skin.
Most black women have the softest skin you’ve ever touched…
What? Just because I’m not as stupid as my brother Michael and never had anyone caught or hurt doesn’t mean I discriminated in my past. We live in Buffalo, New York and there are plenty of fine ass black women who I’ve seen and even chased over the years – even if most of them wanted nothing to do with a white boy, much less an Italian involved with the mob.
That usually kills all desire for most black women who don’t see the sense in leaving the comforts of their culture for criminal troubles with a white man. In some strange way, I feel lucky that Aricia is a lawyer… She might have a higher tolerance for my illegal activities because of her job.
Quietly, I calculate.
“Yes,” she nods after finishing her drink and giving me the opportunity to offer her another one. My heart pounds with excitement and my dick becomes semi-stiff at the possibility of dragging this woman off into my bedroom for the night.
“Lawyers. You all work hard and play hard.”
“It’s the only way to get through law school.”
I glance over my shoulder at Flora. Aricia catches me looking and then wrinkles up her face.
“Hold on… If this is some swinger, sex freak situation, I’m not interested,” Aricia said, her mood cycling to disgust and outrage. The one thing that makes her drunkenness and trauma seem more believable is how rapidly she cycles through her moods.
“That’s my sister. I’m… babysitting.”
“She doesn’t look like a baby.”
She looks like something much worse with her ass hanging out of that dress. But I bite my tongue and try to say something that won’t turn off Aricia. She’s a lawyer so… most likely one of those “strong woman” types who doesn’t like it when you get a slick mouth with her outside of the bedroom.
I enjoy a woman like Aricia… a mental challenge. Judging by the hips she moved around the dance floor, she might be a physical challenge too. That’s half the fun of taking a woman to bed. My mind flickers to life with thoughts of all the things I could do with Aricia.
But first.
“She’s adjusting to life away from Pittsburgh and more anti-social than she looks… Can I get you a shot?”
“Okay,” she says. “But I’m going to meet your baby sister and confirm what you just told me…”
I can’t blame her for questioning me and it proves that she’s an attorney.
She turns away from me and talks to her friend, who looks me up and down with a big smile on her face.
Hm. Not really my type, but I appreciate the look of approval from her friend.
It feels good to have your hard work in the gym recognized, even passively by lingering stares and other signs of attraction that women can’t help.
I put my arm over Aricia’s shoulder as I lead her towards the bar.
Her ass swings with each step and I have to fight the urge to drop my hand lower from the middle of her back to Aricia’s thick ass cheeks.
I wish I could banish my lewd thoughts about her and the intrusive desire to split her open but… liquor.
It’s not like I would mind getting to know her.
She says her husband’s dead, right? That means we’re both single and at my age, you can’t be too picky about what life circumstances you can and can’t accept.
The bullshit comes for all of us in the end.
My arm around Aricia’s shoulder feels far too personal and too possessive for a stranger, but she doesn’t pull away from me.
Encouraged, I draw her body close to mine and steal some of her warmth away. She shudders and sinks against my body. I can feel the emotional tension from earlier when she made her strangely morbid confession. Dead husband. Did her husband really die today?
They can’t have been that close if she’s acting like this…
There has to be a story there…
As my drinks course through me, my desire to unlock every last secret about Aricia grows and becomes my singular mental obsession. She’s downright gorgeous and even if she’s clearly in her forties, there’s an energy about her that you don’t see in most forty year old women
There’s just enough liquor in both of us. Flora eyes the two of us as I approach her. The smile on my sister’s face is far too smug and cocky about this entire situation.
“Who is your new friend?” Flora asks, smiling sweetly at Aricia. “Did you tell her about your chlamydia diagnosis?”
I glare at Flora, but Aricia smiles at her.
I can’t read her opinion of Flora. I can’t imagine any woman who dresses like Aricia looks at Flora and sees anything other than a skank.
But maybe Aricia won’t judge me by my sister.
The two of them lock eyes and I disappear for a moment in a way that I don’t like.
Women forming alliances spells danger. I hover as close to Aricia as possible without turning her off.
It’s hard not to stare directly at her rack.
Damn Aricia has a pair of huge breasts.
“I’m Aricia,” she says, smiling as she extends her hand to Flora. They shake hands and weirdly, I sense a connection between them. I immediately want to separate them in case this gets too far.
“... Are you his sister or his daughter?” Aricia says all this with a nervous laugh that makes her seem so energetic and downright sexy. She shakes the hair off her shoulders and exposes her shoulder blades which gets me instantly hard…
“His daughter?” Flora laughs. “That’s funny. No, he’s my older brother.”
“So you weren’t lying,” Aricia says, giving me a suspicious side-eye. I’m just happy she’s looking my way at all. The smirk that crosses Aricia’s face makes her seem especially fucking hot.
“No,” Flora says. “He wasn’t. He’s single. Dangerously single.”
I clear my throat and glare at Flora. Aricia doesn’t notice because she’s busy laughing at my sister’s stupid joke about my singleness. Her laugh is genuine and quite unburdened considering she told me that her husband died.
“And I promise, I’m his sister,” Flora says, elbowing me and then running her finger along the edge of one of those whorish fake lashes she wears. “Flora Corsini. I like the name Aricia. It sounds like a cocktail.”
I wish I didn’t have to look after my sister tonight because I am desperate to get Aricia alone. I don’t know how to have both.
“Thanks.”
“What brings you here tonight?” Flora asks. “Surely you weren’t looking for men like my brother?”
I could wrap her hair around Flora’s neck and choke the life out of her, I swear. If she’s not going to help me, I wish she would at least shut the fuck up. Now that Aricia proved that I’m not a dirty lying bastard, I need to find a way to get her alone.
“I just came with my friend to unwind.”
“It’s nice here,” Flora says. The song changes and Aricia tilts her head back with the satisfaction that only listening to your favorite song can provide.
“Oh, I love this song.”
“Will you dance with me then?” I ask Aricia, ignoring my annoying sister snickering nearby. I’ll punish her for that later.
“Wait!” Flora says. “Before the two of you dance… One drink together?”
The bartender from earlier comes over with three shots. The three of us exchange glances and look at the shots.
“Did you order these?”
Flora shrugs. “Yes! Let’s drink.”
“Thank you,” Aricia says.
“To a new friendship!” Flora says, raising her glass. Aricia joins her, making nervous eye contact with me first.
Friendship? I have no intentions of friendship with this woman. She’s hot and I want her in my bed… or sitting across the table from me at dinner.
“To a beautiful woman,” I say in response, winking at Aricia before I down my shot of whatever the hell it is. She clinks glasses with my sister and they both drink…