Naked Came the Stranger - By Penelope Ashe Page 0,34

at the road's end. She sat staring down at the water and his body ached to possess her, to tear off her clothes and crush her to him, to explore the smoothness of her body with his hands and mouth, to hear her….

But it was she who made the first move. Her arms were about his neck and her face was against his. "Poor Mario," she had said, "you want me so much." Her lips brushed his and her warm tongue darted into his mouth.

He stared at her, fighting it. And then he had said, "It's late. We better get home."

She had laughed at that. "I like you, Mario. There's something about you, something menacing, and that's intriguing. And you're afraid of me and I think I like that too. But chase away your ghosts, Mario, I may not like you forever."

Why hadn't he accepted her invitation then? God knows he wanted her. And she was right about that other thing, about being afraid. But not of her. Afraid of old Septimo and his Sicilian family honor. How could he tell her about a $500,000 Organization investment predicated upon his keeping his nose clean?

Twice that week he had called her. Twice they had met for drinks at the Dunes Motel. Each time it was the same. She fascinated him, stirred him. Each time he had driven her home untouched, unable to quell the instinct that had kept him alive when better men had died. Then she had worn that sack dress to a lunch at Peacock Alley. And it was then, over coffee, with her small, firm chin resting above her folded hands, that she said - "I'm not going to see you any more, Mario. You're beginning to bore me."

His first reaction was boiling anger. He had thrown the money on the table. He had said "So long, bitch," and walked out. He had walked and walked and he could not erase that final smile on her face. It was a Mona Lisa smile and Mario suddenly understood why the Mona Lisa smiled. It was because she was unattainable. It was because men were crazy to hold her breasts and suck the sweetness from her mouth, and it was an impossibility. It was impossible because then she would be just another woman with a silly smile.

But Gilly could be attained. He called the studio that afternoon. He called the studio four times before noon the next day. Each time a fag bastard had answered that Mrs. Blake was too busy to come to the phone. He waited for her later at the studio entrance, but she was with her husband and he had ducked into an alleyway. That same afternoon he had ignored a legitimate tip and the feds had raided one of the Organization's best cutting plants in the Bronx, nailing three men and six kilos of pure heroin. He had broken two appointments with Septimo the following day. And then, when he had given up, she was on the phone. Had he been calling her? she asked. Would she meet him for a drink on Tuesday night at the Dunes? he asked. A drink? she had asked. No, he had said, for more than a drink. She promised to be there and then the line went dead. Later he thought about it – had he said anything on the phone that could harm him?

Mario nosed the Bonneville down the steep cliff road leading to the Dunes. Even Septimo didn't know about this one. Charlie Friars, a Smithtown politician who got rich approving zoning changes for builders doing business with his insurance agency, had gotten a severe case of the shorts while building the Dunes, a modern motel-cocktail lounge complex. At Charlie's request, Mario had paid the unpaid bills and now had a hidden half ownership. It wasn't likely he would run into any of Septimo's bird dogs, not here. Organization men didn't get the red carpet treatment at the Dunes, and they naturally favored the mob-owned places. Gillian was already at the bar. Mario sucked in his breath and stood for a moment at the door, licking her with his eyes. She was talking to the bartender. Her slim legs were crossed at the knees and a lit cigarette was in her hand. The martini in front of her was untouched and moisture still frosted the outside of the glass. Good, she had just arrived. He was momentarily irked that he had not spotted her car outside.