Wiseguy Encounter

Tomaso "Tommy Big-Shoes" Moldanado waited patiently at a small table in the rear of the "Peak Time" social club. He was not, by nature, a patient man, but he made exceptions. The Peak Time was the headquarters for the Panetti crime family. Tommy was waiting for his boss, a captain in the Panetti family, to give him a job. Not a job in the typical sense, but a "job." This could entail anything from reasoning with reluctant debtor to throwing the reluctant debtor off of a roof.

Tommy covertly looked at his watch. Closing his eyes, he mentally counted to ten. He knew from experience that any overt sign of impatience would not sit well with the man he was waiting to meet. Looking several tables over he could see three men at a large table. Two of the men sat facing him, the other sat with his back to Tommy, his shoulders hunched forward, head hanging. Tommy hoped that the meeting would be over soon, he had better things to do than cool his heels.

A few moments later, Pete Panetti, the boss's cousin, and captain of Tommy's crew motioned him over to the table. Tommy passed the man who Pete and been talking to and noticed tears drying on his cheeks. The man scurried past Tommy; his eyes fastened to the floor as if looking up would have the direst of consequences. Tommy was surprised the man walked out under his own power. Not many people took a meeting in this place that they could walk away from. "Pistol Pete" Panetti was as unforgiving as a sunburn.

Tommy, walked towards the table, stopped short and, very carefully, unbuttoned his suit coat. One of Pete's torpedos's quickly and expertly patted him down for weapons or a wire. The torpedo nodded once to Pete and quickly walked out of earshot.

Pete came around the table and gave Tommy a hug and kiss on both cheeks. "Tomaso, how you holdin' up?" Pete asked, genuine concern in his voice. Tommy shrugged. His wife of five years had been killed in a one-car accident four months previously. The shock of her death was gone, but the void she left still with him.

"I'm ready to get back to work, Pete." He said.

"I'm glad you said that, 'cause I got a little thing for you take care of for me," Pete said. "You remember Annette Reilly?"

Tommy looked up at the ceiling for a second, then back at his boss. "She was the bookkeeper for that jewelry store over on Columbus Avenue, the one that was a bank for us."

Pete threw his head back and laughed. "That's the Tommy Big-Shoes I remember. Never forgets a fucking thing." He smiled for a second, then it disappeared. Back to business, Tommy thought.

"Well," Pete said, "You know the old man who owned the joint? He took a vacation." Tommy nodded, both men knew he wouldn't be coming back from his trip. The jewelry storeowner had been cooking the books, making a fortune by skimming off the top. A lot of Panetti family profits had been laundered through the jewelry store, and even more through the late owner's contacts in Luxembourg. When Pete found out about the old man's scam, he had personally taken him "on vacation."

" What I want" Pete continued " is for you to toss the broad's apartment. See if he stashed anything with her."

" I'll take care of it." Tommy said. "You want me to have a little chat with her, too?'

"Nah," Pete said, "She's the one that gave us the old man. We're just making sure. We even got her working on something else for us right now. But, before it gets to heavy, we wanna make sure she ain't dickin' us around, capice?"

Tommy stood up and buttoned his jacket. "Consider it done, Boss." As he turned to leave Pete called to him.

"Hey, Big Shoes!" Tommy turned to face him again

"Good to have you back, Piasan."

Tommy sent one of his underlings to talk to the doorman of Annette Reillys apartment house.

"Listen," the enormous thug told the petrified doorman, "The guy is gonna be here real soon, so don't fuck this up. Big, good lookin' guy. Salt and pepper hair, blue eyes. He's gonna walk up to you and say 'give me the keys.' You give him the fucking keys and don't say a fucking word. You buzz him on the buzzer if she shows up. Got it?" The doorman nodded his head so fast that his hat fell off. The thug rolled his eyes and handed him two hundred fifty dollars. The other two-fifty was after he got it right.

Fifteen minutes later, Tommy Moldanado walked up to the doorman.

"Gimme the keys."

The doorman took the keys from his pocket and, careful to not look at him, handed Tommy the keys to Reilly's apartment. In the elevator Tommy put on a pair of surgical gloves and wiped the keys down carefully on his shirtsleeve. Getting off the elevator, he checked the hallway and, seeing no one, went to Annette Reilly's door and quickly entered her apartment.

"Here boy, good dog, c'mere." Tommy said. No answer. She didn't have a dog. He moved directly to her bedroom. Tommy stopped at her dresser intending to look there first. He came up short, staring at the picture. He remembered Annette Reilly as a pretty woman, but nothing to write home about.

Always wearing baggy clothes with her auburn hear up in a tight bun. The picture on the dresser was obviously the same woman, but what a difference! She was in a lime green string bikini, cut high over her slim hips. Tommy stared transfixed. Her half-closed, almond shaped eyes gazed seductively at the camera. Her full breasts spilled from the sides and front of her top, nipples hard and high, poked through the thin material. Her legs were perfect, long and lean. Her stomach was flat, almost concave. In the pose, her legs were slightly spread, hips thrust towards the camera. The outline of her sex could clearly be seen pressed against the bikini bottom.

Tommy's head jerked up at the sound of the front door opening. Oh, shit! He thought. I'm gonna kill that fucking doorman. He moved quickly and quietly to her closet door and slipped inside leaving it cracked enough to see out into the room.

Annette Reilly walked into the bedroom and immediately began to strip off her work clothes. She pulled off her oversized sweater, revealing a lacy, filmy, almost transparent bra. Her nipples stood out prominently through the lacy material, areolas darkly outlined. Next she unzipped the baggy skirt she was wearing and stepped out and Tommy almost gasped out loud. Under her skirt she wore a matching thong and sheer stockings. She reached around and unhooked her bra, shrugging forward and releasing her perfect breasts. She sat down on the bed and reached up to undo her hair and Tommy broke into a light sweat.

Tommy had not been with a woman since his wife had been killed. Despite the image portrayed by most of his peers, Tommy had been faithful to his wife. He had loved her deeply and missed her greatly. Even with the advances of several desirable women, he had remained in mourning, paying respect to his wife's memory.

Annette's hair fell across her shoulders, covering her breasts. She reached up and pulled her hair behind her. The air hitting her nipples again caused them to harden. She turned slightly on the bed, until she was facing the mirror on her dressing table. She reached up and cupped her breasts, pinching her nipples, pulling on them. Bringing one breast to her mouth, she sucked the nipple groaning slightly. Then the other

Tommy could see her reflection in the mirror. Her face had a slight flush and her eyes were closed. Her nipples, shiny with saliva stood out as she ran her index fingers around her engorged aerolas, flicking the nipples rapidly.

Tommy stepped out of the closet quietly and moved to the end of the bed.

"Hello Annette."

Her eyes popped open. Then, surprisingly, she smiled at Tommy. She made no move to cover herself and her hands never stopped moving over her breasts.

"Hello, Tommy," she said. "I had a feeling Pete would send you over sooner or later to check up on me." She stared directly at Tommy's crotch. "I guess you like what you see."

"What's not to like?" He said hoarsely.

"I always wondered why they call you 'big shoes,'" she said coyly. "Now I know."

Tommy wordlessly began to take off his jacket. Annette pushed herself back on the bed, propping herself up with pillows. Tommy's eyes never left her body, watching as she ran one hand gently over her stomach while pinching her nipples with the other. She slipped her fingers under the elastic of her panties and began a slow circular motion.

Tommy, shirtless now, groaned and moved towards her. He kneeled down in front of her, his face inches away from her probing fingers.

"Do you like watching me play with my pussy?" She asked in a husky voice.

"Yes"

"Take my panties off, Tommy." He reached up and slowly drew the sheer-faced thong down. Annette lifted her hips closer to Tommy's face and for the first time he smelled her heady musk. Her fingers continued to gently slide over the outer lips of her sex. She used her middle finger tease the hood of her clitoris as her hips began to slowly move up and down.

Tommy threw her panties aside and gently pushed her knees further apart. He began to lick her thigh just above the knee while tracing his fingers up towards her wetness. Annette made a small cry and her hips pushed upward involuntarily. Her free hand began to pull at her nipples again.

He was alternating thighs now as he moved towards her squirming fingers. She reached up and grasped his head and lowered it to her. He sucked and licked her fingers clean as she placed his hands on her stiff nipples. Tommy Pulled on her nipples and Annette rocked her hips forward, grinding herself against his open mouth.

"Oh, Tommy! Lick me faster, baby." She groaned in her sex charged voice.

Tommy flattened his tongue and began to rhythmically lick the length of her. She met every stroke of his tongue, grinding small circles against his mouth.

Tommy was possessed. Her musk was driving him wild. Sliding his hands up the back of her thighs, he pushed upward, raising her hips higher. Annette's juices were flowing freely now, he saw as he pulled his head back.

He slowly ran his pointed tongue up the crack of her ass, and heard her sharp intake of breath. Keeping his tongue pointed he hesitated, then stabbed forward into her.

Annette cried out as Tommy drove his tongue again and again into her ass, his thumb rubbing roughly over her clit.

"I'm coming! Oh God, yes! Don't stop Tommy! YEEEEEESSSSS"

As her breathing slowed, Tommy moved his face to her taught belly, kissing and licking.

Tommy felt Annette's hand running through his hair and he looked up and smiled at her. Suddenly, her thighs clamped his head, immobilizing him. Her hand entwined in his hair jerked his head to the right, and the other hand buried the ice pick in his exposed temple to the hilt.

Tommy reared up like a fish, hooked on a line. Annette rolled with him her hand still on the pick. She twisted it savagely once, twice. Tommy shuddered and his bladder and bowels relaxed, then he was gone. His eyes still open stared up at her.

Annette, still gripping him with her thighs, relaxed the hold on his hair and checked for a pulse. Finding none, she got up and went to the phone by the side of her bed. She dialed a number from memory, then spoke without preamble.

"It's me," she said, "he's done. Send someone to clean this place up."

"O.K" the voice on the line said. "The man, says good job. The money is being sent right now. He says we'll talk to you in the usual place in a couple of days."

Annette looked down at Tommy and lit a cigarette.

"Too bad, big shoes." She said with a tight grin. " You had a great mouth. A fuckin' shame you couldn't keep it shut."

Annette walked into the bathroom and turned on the shower. She didn't look back.