Vendetta: Lucky's Revenge

  Venus and Johnny Romano made their exit shortly after Alex. Comfortably lounging in the back of his limo, Johnny stretched out his long legs and poured Venus more champagne. “Really boring, babe,” he announced. “Those people got no clue how to get down.”

  “Maybe that is their idea of getting down,” Venus remarked.

  Johnny smoothed back his Latin-lover heavily greased black hair. “Well, they got one dull life.”

  “Abigaile doesn’t think so.”

  He swigged from the champagne bottle. “So how come you told me not to say anything about the movie?”

  She gave a small, triumphant smile. “Because…I’ve got the role.”

  He smiled broadly. “Hey, baby—must’ve been something I said.”

  “I’m sure it was, Johnny.”

  “We gotta celebrate,” he said. “Wanna stop by my place?”

  “What kind of celebration is that?”

  “Don’t put it down till you’ve seen it.” He leered. “Wanna see it, babe?”

  “See what?” she asked, as if she didn’t get his double entendre.

  He grinned lasciviously, patting his immediate erection, quite obvious in his tight-fitting black pants.

  Venus averted her eyes, feigning a yawn. “I’m more interested in getting a good night’s sleep…by myself.”

  “Hey—baby, Johnny Romano never forced himself on anyone. Never had to. But I’m telling you,” he added boastingly, “you got no idea the goodies you’re missing.”

  “My—what a big ego you have,” she drawled.

  “Yeah, all the better to eat you up with.”

  She couldn’t help laughing. Johnny’s lines were outrageously corny.

  “Hey—” he said, reaching for more champagne. “Did you catch the face on that fat kid when he saw you?”

  “What fat kid?”

  “The Landsmans’ son. He took one look at you and nearly came in his pants!”

  “Johnny!”

  “Maybe he’s your number-one fan, babycakes.”

  “I didn’t notice him.”

  “You’re so cool. He’s gonna be talking about you for months, and you didn’t notice the poor kid.”

  “I saw the Stollis’ daughter twirling her little navel ring in your direction.”

  “Sixteen? Too young.”

  “What?” she said, amused. “By about three months?”

  He laughed. “You’re funny. We’re gonna have good times on this movie.”

  “You bet we are, Johnny. First we’ll work very hard, then we’ll have good times.”

  “I’m renting a house in Vegas. There’s room for one more.”

  “Thanks, Johnny, I’ll get my own house. That’s the nice thing about being a star—I can afford to do whatever I want. And what I want right now is to be left alone.”

  “I have an early photo shoot tomorrow,” Veronica said, glancing meaningfully at Cooper.

  He took the hint and stood up.

  “I enjoy those catalogues you appear in,” Mickey said, absently rubbing his bald head. “Very sexy, Veronica. Very sexy indeed.”

  “Thank you, Mickey,” Veronica replied, towering over him.

  Mickey moved a little closer. He liked tall women, they gave a whole new meaning to going down. “You ever thought about being in a movie?” he asked.

  “As a matter of fact, I have. Last week I signed with William Morris for film and commercial representation.”

  “Good move.”

  She favored him with a horsey smile. “I’m glad you think so.”

  He licked his fleshy lips, this one was a definite turn-on. He’d like to squeeze his cock between her big tits and come all over her. “Give me a call at the studio sometime. Maybe I can help.”

  “I’ll do that, Mickey.”

  Cooper kissed Abigaile on both cheeks. “Nice dinner, Abbey, thanks,” he said, not meaning it.

  “We must do this again,” Abigaile gushed, always delighted to have Cooper as a guest.

  “Absolutely,” Cooper said, thinking, No way! He took Veronica’s arm and led her out the front door. “Sorry about that,” he said in a low voice as they waited for his car.

  “I’m sure you’re planning on compensating me,” Veronica purred provocatively.

  “Definitely,” he answered, on automatic pilot, although his mind was on Venus. Seeing her with Johnny Romano had really upset him.

  He drove to Veronica’s apartment, got out of the car, and escorted her inside.

  In the elevator, she suddenly pounced, pinning his shoulders up against the wall, kissing him with the most inventive tongue he’d ever come across. God, she was strong!

  This was a switch, he was the one usually calling the shots.

  “Hey,” he objected as her hands traveled intimately down his body, rubbing his penis. “Let’s not get carried away.”

  “Don’t be a tease, Cooper,” she said, exploring his left ear with her probing tongue. “I’ve heard about your reputation. The girls are all dying to know.”

  “What girls?”

  A low, throaty laugh. “We have a little supermodel club. Y’know, see who can fuck the most billionaires and movie stars.”

  “That’s really impressive,” he said sarcastically.

  “No,” she said, her hand pressed firmly against his dick. “This is what I call impressive.”

  And before he could say anything, she reached for the Stop button, and as the elevator lurched to a halt, urgently began unbuckling his belt.

  Cooper felt like a girl with a guy who was coming on too strong. Was this date rape? Oh God, Venus, where are you when I need you?

  Before he knew it, Veronica had his pants down around his ankles and was busily working on removing his undershorts.

  It occurred to him that any moment somebody could buzz for the elevator, the doors would open, and he’d be exposed for all to see.

  “Let’s go to your apartment,” he said.

  “I want to do it here,” she countered, breathing heavily as she unzipped the back of her dress, allowing it to fall from her long, lean body.

  The most famous underwear model in the world didn’t wear any. She was tall and smooth-skinned, with a shaved pussy and prominent nipples. She was also very, very naked. “Kiss this,” she said, shoving one of her boobs toward his mouth. “Kiss it, suck it—c’mon, lover boy, show me what you can do.”

  “Am I about to make your list of billionaires and movie stars?” he groaned, chewing on a nipple.

  “Maybe you’ll be top of the list,” she promised, throwing a long leg around his waist, deftly trying to maneuver him inside her.

  “Are you sure they don’t have security cameras in these elevators?” he said, feeling his erection slipping away.

  “Get with the program, baby,” Veronica encouraged in her guttural voice. “Do it to me—do it to me good.”

  A standing-up fuck—just what he felt like.

  He wondered what Venus was doing now. Was she in Johnny’s infamous limo? Was he plying her with champagne while telling her she was the sexiest woman in the world?

  Johnny was too obvious, Venus wouldn’t fall for his corny crap.

  As he thought about Venus, his erection completely deserted him, and he slipped out of Veronica, who was not pleased. “What’s the matter?” she said sternly, sounding like a drill sergeant.

  Oh, God, he didn’t want her running back to the supermodel squad, reporting that he was a dud.

  “Can’t do it in an elevator—too public,” he explained. “It’s not my thing.”

  “Public sex excites me,” Veronica said, flicking out her extra-long tongue and wriggling it at him, kind of a snakelike come-on. “I once did it in a bathroom at the White House. Nobody knew.”

  “Except the President,” he joked.

  She didn’t get it.

  “Let me see if I can persuade you to overcome your fear of elevators,” she said, falling to her knees and taking his penis into her mouth, ramming in
his balls along with it.

  This little move made him nervous, not horny. She had the biggest mouth he’d ever come across. He felt himself shrinking more as each moment passed.

  “This isn’t going to work,” he said, attempting to remove himself from her mouth before she crushed his precious balls to pieces.

  “Don’t I turn you on, Cooper?” she said in her deep, brown voice. “Every man in America wants to fuck me. They leaf through my catalogue, then look at their fat wives, and go—‘Ah…Veronica…my fantasy woman. I want her tits in my mouth, my tongue in her pussy.’”

  “The problem is that I don’t have a fat wife at home,” Cooper said, groping for his pants on the elevator floor and hurriedly pulling them on. “I need a drink,” he added tersely.

  “Oh, you have to drink to get it up, is that it?” she said nastily.

  He was beginning to dislike her more and more; in spite of her outward appearance, there was nothing feminine about her.

  “I was married to Venus Maria,” he said. “In fact, I still am. We’re separated.”

  “She’s shorter than I expected.”

  “She’s a very special woman.”

  “Then why are you separated?”

  Good question.

  Someone yelled down the elevator shaft. “Are you stuck?”

  Calmly Veronica stepped into her dress. “Zip me up,” she commanded.

  He did as she asked and flipped the On switch. The elevator rumbled into action.

  Veronica smoothed down her dress. “How old are you, Cooper?” she asked.

  “It’s public record,” he said with an unperturbed smile, secretly livid she would ask such an intimate question.

  “Hmm…” she said knowledgeably. “Perhaps you need a shot of testosterone.”

  Bitch! “Not when I’m with my wife I don’t,” he said, wiping the smile off her horsey face.

  The only people left at the dinner party were Abigaile and Mickey, Donna and George, a drunken Jeff and an uptight Leslie. She’d been dying to go for the past half hour, but it was impossible to get Jeff to move. He sprawled on a couch with a sloppy smile stuck on his face. “Y’know, Mickey,” he said, “one of these days I’d like to produce.”

  You’d better learn to act first, Mickey thought sourly. There was nothing he hated more than the slew of good-looking guys who came to Hollywood figuring they could be actors, producers, directors. This Jeff guy was an out-and-out loser. Somebody had to talk some sense into Leslie.

  “Where do you think the children are?” Donna said, her lips pressed into a thin, disapproving line.

  “Dunno,” Mickey said, not too concerned. “Maybe the movie ran longer than they expected.”

  “I’m disappointed,” Donna said, ignoring George’s warning look.

  “How’s that?” Mickey said.

  “You invited Santo here for dinner, then sent him out to a movie. That’s not very polite.”

  “The kids didn’t want to sit around with a bunch of old people like us,” Mickey said expansively. “Tabitha will take care of your boy.”

  “He doesn’t need taking care of,” Donna said frostily. “He also doesn’t need to be led astray.”

  “What do you mean by that?” Abigaile said, quickly joining in. Nobody was going to criticize her daughter.

  “Santo is a good boy,” Donna said.

  “Are you implying that Tabitha is a bad influence?” Abigaile said, bristling.

  “Maybe I should call our house,” George suggested.

  “Yes,” Donna said, trying to control her aggravation.

  “Use the phone behind the bar,” Mickey offered.

  Leslie got up to go to the guest bathroom.

  “May I have a word with you, dear?” Mickey said, following her into the hall.

  “Sure, Mickey,” Leslie said, listless since Cooper had left with the skinny six-foot model with the phony tits.

  “You’re looking tired,” he said.

  “Do you think so?”

  “Y’know, Leslie,” Mickey continued, putting his arm around her shoulders. “Leading ladies—they gotta be sparkling at all times. Who is this schmuck you’re with?”

  “You mean Jeff?”

  “What are you doing with a loser like him? Is he a great fuck? ’Cause I can find you another guy who’s better in bed, and has brains to go with it.”

  “I really don’t appreciate your interfering in my personal life, Mickey,” she said huffily. “I might be doing a movie for you, but that doesn’t give you the right to comment on who I see.”

  “Honey,” he said patiently, “I’m trying to teach you street smarts. Never live with an actor. They’re ego-inflated pricks. Surely you’ve worked that out by now?”

  “Look, I admit Jeff is a little, um…happy tonight, but that’s only because he’s glad to be here.”

  “I bet he is,” Mickey snorted.

  “Anyway, Mickey, don’t worry—he’s not around permanently. I’m using him, the way you guys use women.”

  “I’ve never used a woman in my life,” Mickey said indignantly.

  No, of course not, she thought. How about that bachelor party where you had a girl spread-eagled on the buffet table while you ate the celebration cake out of her pussy for the boys’ amusement?

  “Anyway, I’m taking him home now,” Leslie said. “By the way, Mickey, I had an idea.”

  “What?”

  “Wouldn’t Cooper be great in Gangsters?”

  “The movie’s cast, Leslie.”

  “I know,” she said, her eyes gleaming. “But can you imagine? Cooper Turner in Gangsters, with Johnny Romano and me—what a combination!”

  “Didn’t you just finish a movie with Cooper?”

  “Yes, and it’s going to be big. Why don’t you find another script for us to do together? We have sensational screen chemistry.”

  “Yeah,” he said, thinking that this was exactly the out he was looking for. “That’s not a bad idea. If I come up with something, would you sooner do that than Gangsters?”

  “Yes,” she said, “as long as it’s with Cooper.”

  “A nice romantic comedy—right?”

  “Perfect.”

  “I’ll definitely get into it, baby. Come by the studio for lunch.”

  “My pleasure, Mickey.”

  “Meanwhile, take the loser home. I don’t want him throwing up on my couch.”

  “I can hear a phone ringing,” Tabitha singsonged, completely out of it. They were both lolling in the middle of Santo’s bed in a drugged-out stupor.

  When they’d gotten back to his house they’d shared another joint, then Tabitha started exploring his room, begging for something stronger.

  He remembered the heroin Mohammed had sold him. “Girls get off on it,” Mohammed had said. Tabitha was a girl. She had perky little tits almost exposed by her flimsy top. He wouldn’t mind touching them; he’d never touched a real girl. So they smoked the heroin and ended up floating on a beautiful blue cloud above the world, watching everyone.

  Santo was overcome with a feeling of goodness. Everything was so nice, and he was filled with joy. Wow! Tabitha felt the same way.

  They were both so mellow and calm that it seemed only natural they should take their clothes off and fling them at each other, screaming with laughter.

  Santo kept thinking about Venus at the party, her blue eyes, blond hair, and the way she looked in her daring red dress.

  He got naked, glanced down, and couldn’t believe how hard he was. His cock resembled a rocket ready for takeoff.

  Before he knew it, Tabitha was sitting astride him and they were making out.

  She moved fast, riding him like a show horse. All he could see were her perky little tits and her belly button with the gold ring bouncing up and down. It was a mind-blowing experience.

  When she fell off him, they both started laughing uncontrollably and rolling around on the bed.

  He wondered if he should show her his collection, mayb
e read her some of the letters he’d sent to Venus, which he’d dutifully copied.

  Something warned him she might be jealous. It wouldn’t do to have her and Venus fighting over him.

  “You’re not bad, Santo,” Tabitha said grudgingly, stretching out her arms. “We should do this again.”

  “Anytime you say.”

  “I’m starving,” she said, jumping off the bed.

  Naked, they ran downstairs and raided the fridge in the kitchen. Fortunately, the servants had retired for the night to their own separate quarters behind the pool house.

  “Where’s your parents’ bedroom?”

  He took her into Donna’s room. She threw herself onto the middle of the huge old-fashioned four-poster bed, flinging the velvet embroidered cushions at Santo, screaming with high-pitched laughter.

  “How we gonna clear this up?” he said, worried for only an instant. “My mom’ll know we were in her room.”

  “Who cares?” Tabitha said carelessly. “Come over here. Let’s do it again on her bed.”

  He hadn’t taken much persuading.

  Now they were back in his room and the phone was ringing.

  “Ignore it,” he said, grabbing her pointy little tits.

  “You sure?”

  “Wanna show you something.”

  “What?”

  He got off the bed and went to his locked closet.

  “What?” Tabitha repeated impatiently.

  Unlocking the closet, he reached in the back, pulling out his new prized possession.

  “Holy shit!” she exclaimed. “That’s a big gun.”

  “All the better to kill them with,” Santo replied, laughing like a maniac.

  “Huh?” Tabitha said, blinking rapidly.

  “One of these days,” Santo boasted, “I’m gonna blow their fucking heads off!”

  55

  JOHNNY ROMANO WAS NOT AS PUSHY AS VENUS had thought. When she turned down his invitation to go back to his place, he accepted her refusal in a good-natured way. His limo was now parked outside her house.

  “Gotta say I’m buzzed you’re doing the movie,” he said, flexing his long, surprisingly elegant fingers.

  “So am I,” she said, noticing his huge diamond pinkie ring and diamond-studded identity bracelet. He had to be wearing at least half a million bucks’ worth of diamonds. “The script’s brilliant, you’ll be terrific.”