“Remember, Christian, no fooling around with her. I know what you're like. If you put a finger on her, I'll cut your hand off.”
Christian recognized the look Fabio was giving him and knew he meant it. “Don't worry, boss. I'll behave perfectly.”
*****
When Christian walked into the wedding reception, women turned their heads. The reception was in the garden of a luxury hotel in Beverly Hills. The guests were the smart set, people from Hollywood and big business. Christian also recognized a few people from his line of work, organized crime. He laughed to himself when he noticed the chief of police talking to man Christian new had murdered someone just two days earlier.
Christian didn't have an invitation, but no one would notice; there were so many people.
“Hello. What's your name?” a woman asked.
“Christian,” he replied.
She was in her sixties. She had been good looking at one time, Christian could tell, but she was way past her sell by date now. “You're very handsome. How much do you charge?”
“What?” he said.
“Your price. What is it? Dear boy, do you think I could get a man as nice looking as you into my bed without paying him?”
“I'm not a gigolo.”
“But you do have a price, don't you?” she asked.
He flashed his white smile at her. “Yes, of course. Five million dollars. Now fuck off out of my way.” The woman looked frightened and moved away.
“That wasn't nice,” someone else said, coming up to him.
“What wasn't?” Christian asked.
“The way you spoke to her. She's old.”
“Not too old to ask me to fuck her,” he protested.
“I'm Amy,” she said.
Sometimes Christian wondered about life. Here he was trying to find Amy, and something had brought her to him without him even having to try.
“Nice to meet you, Amy,” he said. She was wearing a long silver dress that revealed her breasts and clung to her hips. She had long dark hair that curled its way to the middle of her back and the most beautiful face Christian had ever seen.
“How do you know Madison?” she asked.
He had no idea who Madison was, but he guessed she was the bride. “Oh, I'm on the groom’s side. Went to school with him,” he bluffed.
“It was a terrible shock, her getting pregnant so soon after they'd met, wasn't it?” Amy said.
“Oh yes, such a shock,” he replied, hardly able to keep a straight face.
This is one hell of a good-looking guy, Amy thought as she let her eyes flow over him. Tall, athletic, and the most wonderful eyes. Decent bulge as well, she noted.
“Come and dance with me,” he said, taking her hand. Before she had time to respond, she was in his arms, being carried effortlessly around the dance floor.
“You're very beautiful,” he said. “What do you do for a living?”
“I'm a student of music.”
“You can play my instrument all day long,” he joked.
“Vulgar,” she said.
“That's me, though. I say what I want. I don't care whether you think it's vulgar or not.” She gasped when he pulled her tighter to him and navigated them around another couple.
“You dance well,” she said, aware that her thigh was dangerously close to a place it shouldn't be.
“Self-taught. Hundreds of hours dancing with beautiful women like you.”
“You're not very modest, are you?”
“No. Why should I be?”
“How many women have you had?” She noticed she was slightly turned on by his arrogance.
“A lot. Many different kinds of women. I love women; they are so unpredictable.”
“You are Italian, so I guess it's in your genes. Italian men are continually horny.”
The music changed, but Christian still held her and danced at his own pace. He wanted a slow grind, and that was what he was going to get, just as soon as he'd warmed her up.
“Yes. We're all sex mad,” he said, laughing a bit.
“You aren't married, are you?” He shook his head. “Girlfriend?” she asked.
“No. You can have me if you want.”
She laughed. “What makes you say that?”
“Because you keep putting your thigh against my crotch and make no attempt to remove it. You know you are turning me on, and you want to.”
“I do not,” she protested.
“Oh yes, you do. You can deny it all you want, but you like me, and you want me. Look at the color of your cheeks.”
“You're crazy,” she said as she tried to pull away.
“Stop your feigned shock. I'm not one of those guys you can pussy whip into submission.” He pulled her waist back to him and turned them in another direction. He bent down and let his lips glide gently over her neck. He heard her gasp. “See. You like it, don't you? You also like it when you feel me getting hard against your leg.” He leaned into her, put his mouth to her ear, and whispered. “What turns you on?”
“What?”
“From behind, I'd say. You look like the kind of girl who enjoys being rammed from the rear,” he said.
“You're so uncouth.”
“And you're so fucking beautiful that you make me like that.”
“You've only just met me, and you dare to talk to me like that?” she asked.