Act II
By Micki L. Bailey
Maggie wasn’t able to put her overactive libido to any use at all that evening. Roger wasn’t in the mood when he finally returned from California. Oh, he was talkative and warm. He went on and on about the fair city of San Diego and the Porsche he’d purchased. He even brought her back a Gore Vidal novel she’d been trying to find. But alas, when the lights went out and the covers were pulled up, no sexual activity took place in the Lococco household that night. Roger merely pulled her close to him and held her there.
She wasn’t sure if he deliberately ignored her kisses and touching or if he was too exhausted to act on them. But she gave up after awhile and attempted a conversation instead.
"I met one of your prize customers this afternoon, honey."
"And who might that be?"
"Nick Santucci." She felt a slight shiver just voicing his name.
Roger groaned a little. "Santucci’s a wiseguy, baby. He runs with a dangerous crowd back in Brooklyn. Ask Vince. You don’t wanna mess with him."
"But it’s okay for you to do business with him?" She felt defensive again, in a different kind of way.
"Ah, he always comes up with the cash, and I don’t havta ask how. He wants a set of wheels I’m selling, and he’s good for the dough. Business is business."
"He seems like a nice guy is all I’m saying. I invited him to the restaurant the next time he’s in town." She forced back to strong urge to add, "He’s just something different."
"Whatever you wanna do, Maggie. I’d just be careful if I were you. People tend to go missing when Nick’s around." Roger’s voice was whispery in the darkness.
"Not very unlike your own personal self, huh, Roger?"
"Days gone by, baby. Can we just go to sleep now? I’m beat."
When Maggie determined from his breathing rhythm that he was snoozing, she untangled herself from his grip and retreated to the bathroom. Her stimulation from that afternoon had blossomed and multiplied each time she replayed the lobby scene in her head. So it took no time at all to massage her swollen, wet flesh into a tension-busting, gasping-silently orgasm that left her heart beating frantically. And it wasn’t Roger who had her pinned up against the wall in her fantasy, thrusting upwards into her, pounding her G-spot until she could see nothing except blinding white light.
It was Nick Santucci. Holding her with his large, capable hands and those brilliant black eyes.
* * *
The next day at 1 p.m. sharp Maggie stopped by their office with some lunch from Renaissance for Roger and Earl Ray. But the two people she found there instead were Earl Ray and Nick. Surprise.
"Well……..if it isn’t the lovely Mrs. Lococco," Nick said, standing up to greet her and help with the box she carried.
She was elated to see him but tried not to show it. "Nick! I thought you left for a far away time zone long ago."
"Flight got canceled. Next one out’s not ‘til this afternoon. So here I am shooting the shit with the good Mr. Michaels. You mind?"
His hand grazed hers in his effort to assist her, and she blushed with the memory of how that hand had performed on her body in her dreams the night before. She looked into his face and stifled a wince.
"And what if I do? Are you gonna get the hell outta Dodge right now?" She smiled.
"I told ya she was a spicy one, Santucci." Earl Ray had been watching them from behind his desk. "Whatcha got there, babe?"
"Lunch. Ya hungry?"
Earl Ray bit his lip pensively. "We just got back from Applebee’s, Maggie."
"Roger didn’t tell ya I was bringing it by? Where is he?" She looked around, then back at him.
Nick sat down again and said nothing. Earl Ray hesitated but didn’t look away from her. "Down at the shooting range………with Shannon Foster."
She whirled back around and gripped the box. Before she could stop herself, she hissed under her breath, "Bastard."
Then, aloud, she said, "Guess he didn’t remember that I said I’d deliver this shit………Or maybe he just wasn’t thinking ‘bout eating."
"Not eating THAT anyway," Earl Ray said quietly. Then she heard him snickering behind her.
Quickly turning back to him, she squinted her eyes and said, "Why don’t you just be a little more cruel, Earl Ray, and say that he’s not interested in ANYTHING I might come over here with."
He stopped laughing. "Sorry, Mags. I’m just playing with ya. Shannon’s no big deal. Don’t let it get to ya."
"Go to hell, Earl Ray."
"Hey, Maggie……..You shoot?"
She turned her gaze to Nick and felt a soothing effect ripple through her body. He stared at her with a half-smile on his chiseled face. He was gorgeous, so different. "Yeah," she managed. "Sometimes I do. I used to be the one going to the range with Roger."
"You wanna go with me? I’m crazy ‘bout firearms."
A grin slowly broke across her face. "Why, Mr. Santucci! I do declare you’re trying to flirt with me."
"So is it working? You wanna go or not?" he asked, kind of no-nonsensically.
"Right now?" Could he be serious?
"Nah………next time. I don’t have time now before the plane takes off." He shrugged, and Maggie watched every little movement.
"Next time then." She wished now more than ever that there’d actually be a next time.
"He needs a ride to the airport, sweetie pie. You wanna show off the new Lexus?" Earl Ray purposely interrupted their little chat.
"You’ve got a Lexus, Maggie?" Nick stood up again, clearly interested.
"I’ve got a brand new SC 400……….beautiful piece of work…….And I’d love to cruise you down to the airport in it just as soon as I dump this fucking wasted food in the trash out back." She seized the box again, almost savagely.
"No, Mags!" Earl Ray stopped her. "I’ll take it home with me. I’m still a bachelor, ya know."
The trek to the Portland airport prevented Maggie from being furious with Roger. In fact, she never even mentioned the whole incident/mix-up to him at all that evening. She was too wrapped up in remembering the time she’d spent alone with the intriguing Mr. Santucci.
He had loved her car. And, apparently, watching her drive it. She caught him eyeing her a few times and wondered if he was aware that she was doing the same to him.
They discussed their respective worlds and got more acquainted with each other. He’d already been clued in on the fact that she used to be Mrs. Michaels and vaguely on the circumstances of why they were all three in the Pacific Northwest. She discovered that he’d never been married and lived in Manhattan now, that he wasn’t really a "wiseguy" but did have business with mob-related persons occasionally.
True or not, Maggie hung onto and believed every word he said. Being in his presence had proved to be as fascinating as she’d dreamed it would be. He somehow lit up things inside her that had been hiding in the dark, and she refused to try to deny it. When he got out of the car, he shook her hand gently, and she was sure tiny sparks flew and crackled when their flesh touched. And she was sure he saw them too.
"Thanks, Maggie. You’re a damn trip. This beat the hell outta a cab ride."
"Don’t forget to come by Renaissance, Nick. I’ll show you about lasagna."
He laughed. "Friday night. Save me a seat"
"You got it."
"Oh, and Maggie………I met the other chick…….You got nothing to fret ovah."
She smiled with sweet sarcasm. "What other chick is that, Nick?"
* * *