Caution: This Action/Adventure Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Consensual, Heterosexual, Fiction, Violent, Prostitution, .
Desc: Action/Adventure Sex Story: Chapter 1 - When the family breaks up, Tony heads to sunny Arizona and a new life.
Sure, you wanna know everything right up front.
Well, I don't blame you no way no how. That's exactly what I would do in your position and that's a fact you can take to the bank and cash it. Without getting into too much BS about why I am a stone cold killer and an egotistical prick to boot, I will just say my up-bringing left room for lots of improvement.
My name is Tony Esposito and before you start thinking it is Hispanic let me fill you in so there ain't no doubts. I am Italian. Well, yeah, I mean Italian American but I always tell anyone who asks me that I am Italian so there ain't no trouble down the line. Most of my friends in the neighborhood are Italian just like me but I don't make no bones about just being friendly with my own kind.
Talking about making bones, I made my bones on the day Don Alfonso asked me to stash his rod where the cops could never find it. I ditched it in the roof pipe of the vacant apartment building up on the Avenue because I knew the only time that would ever see the light of day was when they decided to demolish the whole thing and that didn't look anytime near because the old Jewish family that owned it refused to pay the taxes to the city and it would sit in limbo for a long, long time. I never told anyone that and the old Don was so pleased that his charge of murder disappeared just like his piece that he made me an honorary soldier in his organization.
I was only about sixteen that summer and not too many people in the neighborhood knew about my raise in the ranks of the Mafia and I sure as hell wasn't saying a single word.
I started running the numbers for Don Alfonso who was a tightwad with his wallet but he never failed to find something to help me earn. Me and the other Tony in my building called Tony Sorrentino used to do the candy store scam boosting the cigarettes and the other stuff the truckers brought in untaxed telling the City to go fuck themselves for the fucking taxes. It was strange how they always found plenty of cops to go fuck around with some shopkeepers just trying to make a living and jewelry store and liquor store stick-up artists were always able to make a clean get-away. Those pricks with the night-sticks knew enough to get there after the perpetrator had made his escape so they didn't have to go to the hospital with a stab wound or even a bullet hole if the guy was heeled.
The professionals all had their little deals with the cops and nobody thought anything about it. It was just a cost of doing business. Besides, we helped keep the riff-raft out of the downtown areas and made certain none of those goons tried to muscle into our territory without paying the Don for a license. The West side guys with their black buddies from Harlem knew enough to steer clear and we let them go about their business looking the other way. It seemed like the numbers was the real bread winner in those early days but soon the drugs started to take over the streets and the old guys like Don Alfonso knew it was time to retire to Florida.
I personally never saw what all the aggravation about the drugs was really about. The junkies that used and the pushers that sold all were fairly normal people except the stuff sort of ruined them for polite society. The females all paid for it with selling their pussy and the guys just naturally turned to a life of crime to finance their habit. In any event, it meant higher levels of earning for a wise guy and you had to be ignorant not to take advantage of it.
It was the greed of the high rollers that put the kibosh on the whole frigging thing when they started bringing in the hard stuff from down south and the ritzy crowd started using just to be "cool". I was pissed when my girlfriend Gloria stashed her smack in my place because that was all I needed if the cops ever decided to toss me for evidence for something or other. I really pounded her fat ass hard for that and she thanked me for straightening her out about the using of drugs. I constantly check her for tracks and told her if I ever found any again she was going get a red ass from my belt every night for a week. She must have learned her lesson because she never did it again and it made me proud of her when she finally graduated from the community college with a degree in Business. Her family was sort of stuck up thinking I was some sort of low-life scum but I knew if it wasn't for me their daughter would be walking the streets with a habit that would kill her before thirty.
When Don Alfonso retired, there was a sort of gang war in the city but I tried my best to stay out of it knowing that it didn't really matter who was in charge just as long as those pricks up in Harlem didn't take over the numbers. It was just at that time that I started to take high roller money on the college sport scene even though I didn't know shit from shinola about the crap. I had a couple of college guys with lots of inside scoop on the odds and stuff that kept me out of trouble and soon I was earning more from the basketball and the football than I ever made on the numbers even working 24/7.
My Gloria started taking care of the call-girl racket for me because she felt it was a lot safer and cleaner for the girls than standing out on some street corner like a written invitation for some cop to fuck with.
We were doing pretty well until the Chicago guys started getting rambunctious about expanding and came in with their Columbian hook-up to try and push us old-timers out of downtown. I call myself an old-timer but I was only 29 and really still learning the ropes compared to guys like Don Alfonso and the Torelli brothers who still ran the docks like clockwork. I never got interested in the docks because it was so Union conscious that I figured it would eventually just collapse from the sheer weight of pay-offs. My brother-in-law Ralph was a Union guy and he told me not to fuck around down there because it was all political and shit and guys just disappeared with no trace. I was glad I took his advice but he must not have taken his own because my tearful sister lamented the fact he disappeared into thin air less than a year later. The Torelli brothers swore up and down he probably just got tired of my sister and decided to make a new life somewhere. I almost had to laugh out loud at that because I figured his new life was about forty feet under the surface of the Hudson River with a block of cement around his ankles.
When the Chicago guys started pushing into the college sports scene, I drew the line and commissioned the removal of about a half dozen of their enforcers with very little fanfare. Most of them made a one-way trip to New Jersey and the supervisor who was a Columbian prick making extra money on the side I personally put on a boxcar filled with coal heading to some refinery in Alabama. We never heard anything about that so I figured he got dumped into the ovens with the rest of the coal.
I got called down to the main police headquarters in downtown Manhattan to "discuss" some discrepancies in my inventory reporting and when they brought of the subject of missing Chicago businessmen, I just smiled and shrugged my shoulders like it was all a mystery to me.
I had to laugh at these jerks thinking they could browbeat me into spilling the beans on the family. Only a stupid prick would do something that silly. Of course, I don't think they knew I was already a "made" soldier because they didn't really show me any respect at all. I didn't care because I already had a plan to throw them off the track with dropping the dime on my deceased brother-in-law who wouldn't ever feel the heat again. I had him stitched real good for about a dozen hits over the last seven years or thereabouts because he was dumb enough to let me use his place of business for stashing stuff related to the killings including guns and wallets and shit like that. It was still sitting there in the basements and under cement patios and other strange locations. I even clued them in on the location of one of the stiffs since they probably needed more than just forensic evidence to sell a case on my gullible in-law. I even told him that his code name was "Ice Pick" because he liked to shove an ice pick in his victim's ears sometimes even after they were gone.
I got a real laugh out of that because it was like my M.O. for an official hit so my boss knew I was following orders. After the family sort of splintered and I was on my own, I continued to do it but added some other patterns to throw the profilers off into thinking it was some sort of psychopath doing the killings. I think a skilled investigator could easily see they were all professional hits and there was nothing personal or unnatural about them.
The Feds down at the federal building were all excited at wrapping up a dozen related murders and were fast to swallow the bait about "The Ice-Pick" killer. There were a bunch of other hits that could not be possibly connected to me as they were all out of town and contracted through the main guys who were actually in Detroit and not Chicago like the feds were certain. Those guys were more Union related than gang related and most of them had legitimate connections to protect at all costs. One or two of them had actually gone into politics just to put a vanilla face on their operation.
I settled for a deal that sent me incognito to Arizona of all places. Why they couldn't make it Las Vegas I don't know. Anyway, it was a good gig and after a year or so, I was able to use my car dealership as a base for running a great hot car scam out to the San Diego docks and over to Asia. The insurance companies never knew what hit them and I had picked up enough spare change to start a string of car washes along the main east-west interstate and operated a legitimate RV rental business that furnished great safe houses for guys that needed to lay low for a period of time.
My girlfriend Gloria had stayed in the city and she wrote me she was getting married to some dentist from New Rochelle that was already divorced and had teenage children. It was hard to picture her in that sort of suburban housewife role but I knew she would be a fish out of water in Tucson, Arizona.
I got a girlfriend of sorts now.
Her name is Angela and she is from one of those Central American countries that are always getting the government overthrown by the rebels. Her whole family got wiped out in a coup and she was lucky to make it to the American border where a coyote took her across for the promise of pussy. I guess she paid her debt and moved on and now she was working a housekeeping gig for the rich people up in Prescott. I made her an offer she couldn't resist when I found her bending over making the beds early one morning when I just came out of the shower. We seemed to hit it off real good and I could tell she was a broad who got the picture without asking a thing.
In all honesty I was more worried about my own people than I was of the Feds or the cops because in a similar circumstance I wouldn't hesitate to put the contract on a guy was a loose cannon no matter how loyal I thought he might be.
Now out of the blue the Feds in Phoenix are asking me to go to Las Vegas and finger the visiting big boys out of Chicago. I am seriously considering it since in a way those pricks are responsible for my family's breaking up and me being on the lam in fucking Tucson, Arizona.