BETWEEN THE SHEETS
Story Codes: MF


BETWEEN THE SHEETS
Argentina Marcuteanu



The scent of fish on Mott Street never ceased to attract tourists as
they passed by, even if it reeked like a couple of just-used strumpets
that had let out a quif. In essence, it added character to downtown
Manhattan in the heart of Little Italy whose many residents grew up on
the fish markets. "cuza bella, but are you a Pisces?" asked a
lowly man holding a brown paper bag, who was tall, skinny, and stunk of
liquor. He was laughing as he raised the paper bag toward his mouth.
Madeline Nevsky was disgusted, and kept walking to catch up to her
fiancée who always left her behind. Her toes were frozen in her pointy,
thin leather shoes and heels, hurting from walking on this late January
night.

Tall and thin, she had curves that knocked spotlights off any
woman her age. She was only twenty-three years old, and had strawberry
blond, shoulder length-hair that curved outward with bangs. She had
high cheek bones and hazel eyes. Frustrated that he could be so
inconsiderate of her at times, she walked faster and caught up to see
him suddenly flip down his cell phone to say, "Ready?"

"Who was this now?" She wondered, but knew if she asked, he would say it
was his father or one of the other family members he had to answer to.

Madeline asked anyway, "Who was that?"

He turned his head sideways; with one eyebrow raised he squeezed her
hand and stopped in the middle of Mulberry Street. "It was my old
man."

Jesus Mary and Joseph, you know I have to make a couple of stops for
him tomorrow morning, so I was telling him that I'm sleeping over at
your place tonight, and that I'd still do that for him in the
morning.

"Now don't ask me any more questions about who, what, or where I am
going because I'm not getting you involved!"

This sent her pulse spinning to the point of making her cry. He began
to swing her hand back and forth like a lullaby song, and, with a
smile said, "Now pick a restaurant, anywhere you want, and then a
cafe afterwards for our traditional zambuca coffee drink."

With her head down as they continued walking, she suggested
Umberto's Clam House. She was afraid to say more.
Her fiancée was tall and medium built, with an olive complexion and
shiny, brushed back, dark hair. In fact, no one talked back to
Salvatore Dionisio the second, named after his grandfather. Salvatore
was no kid, he was thirty-six years old, and had a livery business of
his own. His father ran the Beltmont racetrack and was loaded.
Everybody knew his father as Samuel Dionisio, except a few people who
were allowed to call him Dion.

Later that evening, Madeline smelled the liquor odor right above her as
he pumped away with his hard body on top of her. He arched his back and
reached out to pinch her nipples with both hands until they became pink
and perky. She gasped in sweet agony as she tightened her legs around
his waist. This let him know when she was about to climax. She just
wanted to get this over with. Her body felt as if it was half ice, and
his body felt to her like it was half flame. Her breasts were glowing
red from all his groping. Then felt her breasts crush against the
hardness of his chest as he cried out her name in pleasure that was
pure and explosive. He flowed into her like warm pudding.
Salvatore rested on top of her as he fell asleep as quickly as he had
come. Her body squirmed from under him, and she ran to the shower to
wash off her sticky thighs and wet vulva.

He only cared about his pleasure. She had pleaded with him so many times to go
down on her, but he had simply blown her off and claimed that was disgusting.
Madeline reported to work the next day. She took Mrs. Urbaez's tray
of hot food to her bed. With a smile of delight on her face, Mrs. Urbaez
asked, “How do I look? My grandson is coming to visit me today. Oh,
I'm so proud of him; he’s in finance and lives in Chicago. He arranged
for me to be a part of this fine nursing home.” Madeline shot a warm
smile back at her.

Behind the nurse's station, she examined the hygienic cleaning supply
order form as a tall, dark business man approached her desk and
introduced himself as Ruben Torres. All she could muster was, "Ah, yes."

"We were expecting you."

She was not expecting such a fine grandson though. He had dark eyes that stared
deep when he spoke, with a light voice that articulated each word as clearly as they
appeared in lexicons.

Madeline had her hair tied up in a rubber band leaving frizzy hair all
around, and did not have any make-up on. Her white scrubs covered her
slender body, and felt unattractive when she was at work.

After spending two hours with his grandmother, he walked over to thank
her for her excellent hospitality. Ruben then extended his gratitude
and invited her for a drink later in the evening before he went back
home. She accepted without any reservations.

Madeline paced nervously in her bedroom as she was getting dressed. Not
because she had a date with Ruben, but because she had to lie to
Salvatore. He fooled her all the time, why shouldn't she?

The phone rang three times before he picked up, and she told him she
had cramps and would be hitting the sack early. Ruben was downstairs
waiting for her in the cab. Salvatore was garrulous on the phone and
she pretended to fall asleep and hung up.

They were seated in the back of a fine restaurant called The Clove. The
sound of the piano and endless drinks of wine made her feel sexy. He
was a sharp man. Ruben was a financial analyst and explained to her the
latest earning rates on stocks. He had just met her, and was already feeding her
investment ideas for the betterment of her future.

Madeline's mind was on other things though. Three months
away from walking down the aisle, she wanted to be screwed and ducked
as a wild woman hanging off the chandeliers. And what better person
than a fine man who didn't live nearby. It was perfect.
Ruben was checked in at The Mark's Hotel. He invited her upstairs
where he had ordered room service of chocolate covered strawberries and
champagne. He embraced her; picked her up and walked over to their king
size bed and gently lowered her. He reached out with one hand for a
strawberry while caressing her thighs with the other. He was kissing
her softly, blowing on her neck between the kisses.

This sent her shivering as he twirled his finger on her clitoris. He added another
finger, stabbing her in her soaked lust canal. Peaches and cream was
the name of the game. She was spreading her legs even more, as her
triangle of brown pubic hair parted to the side, perfectly showing her
small patch of juice. He poked her with a strawberry, and shoved it
inside her an inch where you could only see the leaf. Ruben nibbled on
the leaf as he started licking her clitoris. She purred like a kitten,
and his hardness began to throb. She had pointed nipples and started to
climax in long quivering spasms.

He unzipped his pants and she took him in her mouth with a savoring
pleasure. Ruben penetrated her deep with his erection, reaching her
tonsils. She began choking and tried to cough when he hosed her throat
down with his milky pleasure bursting spirits. He could not keep
himself from screaming out loud. He shot down her throat that went down
like a funnel, while her lava hot pussy serum pushed out the
strawberry, with melted chocolate that was dripping down her thighs. He lowered his
head and licked her plenty...all chocolate and strawberry glazed vaginal sap.

A month later, Ruben had arranged for her flight to see him in Chicago
and a trip to Rio de Janeiro followed after. What will she tell
Salvatore? He still had no idea what a sexy siren Madeline was becoming. She was
sure it was time to leave  him. Her relationship with Ruben was evolving amorously,
and who would of thought something this exciting would happen on the way to the
alter? She had just fallen into it.

No problem, Madeline had her own plans. She decided to tell him over
the phone. With cold hands and a lump in her throat, she dialed his
number and accused him directly of being with other women because he
hadn't seen or touched her lately. Salvatore defended himself by
telling her that he was working on his soon-to-be best selling novel
which was now at a publishing house. They were both aspiring writers,
and that was the only part about him she would miss. It didn't matter
anymore; she belonged to Ruben, and he was giving her everything she
wanted.

A year passed by quickly and she was still growing strong with Ruben.
He had taught her how to save money and invest. He had bought bonds and
upon maturity, he'd invested the proceeds into real estate for her.

She was now an owner of two apartment units housing twenty families.
She'd had quit her job at the nursing home and started writing a manuscript
novel, which was her passion.

Ruben always took her to upscale restaurants where the gentry
socialized. Madeline had on a beige, beaded shoulder less dress as she
stepped off the elevator. The restaurant, Russo's On the Bay, was mobbed with
people. It appeared they had  multiple parties. She walked hand-in-hand with
Ruben as they had a cocktail by the bar. She pardoned herself to the ladies room
while there were more people coming in with camera apparatus and she heard
guests murmur about the award that was to be presented tonight.
Madeline was brushing her hair in the ladies room with her fingers as
she heard a group of girls giggling over how sexy this new young film
director was. One of the girls pulled out a book to show them that he
had started out as a novelist. To her horror, she read the author's
name backwards in the reflection of the mirror and stormed out of the
restroom.

Madeline swung her hair around her face, and heard her name called out.

She stopped in her tracks and looked up to greet her elderly friend,
Papa Alphonso. This caused others to look their way, and that included
Salvatore.

She smiled politely, poised between fame and trouble. Salvatore took a
few steps cautiously toward her. She could see he was trying really
hard to hold back the tears for publicity sake. Those around them
cleared out and she was facing him. Salvatore stammered, "Madeline,
this is everyone who was supposed to be at our wedding. I don't care
about this award, I am nothing without you. I wrote because you
encouraged me. Please give me another chance to make things right."

Madeline grew angry at the thought of her past. All she could remember
was how he had put her second to everything and was unreliable when she
had needed him. She had also bailed both he and his father out of jail with her own
money and was promised reimbursement after their court would release their
assets. But he had never bothered to give any of it back to her because
he thought if she had money again, she would leave him. She also denied
everything she knew about them when she was called into court as a
witness.

This brought back painful memories of all the good she had done, and
for what? For them, and for that life? She was feeling glamorous
though, because she was ready to face him, and in a classy tone said
"Salvatore, did you really believe you could give a wine taster
colored water? Perhaps you thought, I wouldn't notice."

He was amazed to hear her speak so eloquently, and stood frozen with a
face full of lament, regret and guilt.

"You had a full glass of rich wine, all in your hand."  She
continued,  "But you carelessly tipped your glass over, leaving the floor with
shattered glass and sweet red wine shining on it. I saw you in the
reflection, and I waited for you to come back. Not to me, but to do the
right thing. Now it's too late. I've been swept right off that
floor!"

Salvatore could not look her in the eyes. He looked at the fine Merlot
wine that filled his glass half full and then examined her from her
toes to her head. He felt a stab in his heart. He lowered his head and
whispered, "Shame on me!"

He paused and looked with his twitching chin as he was holding back a flood of
emotions and admitted, Whoever he is, he's taking better care of you than I
didn't Congratulations on your writing and film award. Excuse me.

Madeline turned away to meet Ruben on another floor. Ruben never asked what
had taken her so long.


© 2013 Argentina Marcuteanu


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