Chapter 16: Home Alone

“Rocky I’m not going to stay around to fuck that Manaford guy. I want to go home.”

“It’s five thousand off your husband’s marker and it’s only for one more night.”

“Yeah, big deal; that doesn’t cost you anything,” she said bitterly.

“Okay, I’ll throw in fifteen hundred cash.” He pulled out three five hundred dollar chips.

“You’re a shit,” she said, but she took the chips. “I guess that one more night won’t hurt. I’ll have to tell Brad. Fortunately, he has to be at work and won’t stay and complicate things.”

Rocky was relieved. He wanted to keep the Montessario family happy. He had another three chips in his pocket that he’d been willing to give her if she held out for more. Luckily, she hadn’t yet learned about the charges that her husband put on their card.

“How should I dress?” she asked resigned.

“He likes slutty. I’ll send some clothes to your room.”

Marissa just rolled her eyes. “Whatever,” she said.

“But for now, why don’t you take your clothes off.”

“Rocky, I’m tired. I want to go to my room and go to sleep.”

“No rest for the wicked. Take your clothes off.”

She sighed and began undressing.

Marissa had driven Brad to the airport in the early afternoon Sunday. He’d griped about her not coming home with him, but she’d said that Rockford wanted to meet with her one more time before she left, and he’d told her that the only time he had available was Sunday evening and he’d given her another bonus.

“I hope that he’s making it worth your while,” he’d said, and she told him about the extra fifteen hundred which made it easier for him to accept.

After returning from the airport, Marissa showered and walked naked to open the packages Rocky sent up for her evening out. They contained a blue miniskirt with the black see-through blouse. There was no bra or panties, just black thigh-highs, strapped six inch heels and a pair of large, hooped earrings. She shook her head. “Fuck me!” she murmured as she sat down and opened the package of stockings and saw that they had a seam down the back which annoyed her since she would have to keep the seam straight down her leg.

She also disliked thigh-highs because they tended to slide down when she wore them too long. But then she knew that wearing them too long probably wasn’t going to happen. She expected to spend most of the night on her back with her feet in the air. After dressing she looked into the mirror and wasn’t surprised that the lacy tops of the thigh-highs showed below the bottom of the miniskirt.

The casino was slow, but as Marissa walked by to the private dining room, nearly every eye in the place watched her. She knew that the way that she was dressed, everyone would assume that she was a high-priced hooker, but then she guessed that that was what she’d become, she just didn’t like it.

As she approached, she saw Brandon, the waiter. She saw the look on his face and was embarrassed as he opened the door for her. He said, “Mrs. Henderson, Mr. Manaford is already here.”

“Thank you Brandon,” she said as she walked in.

Manaford stood and eyed her up and down. “Mrs. Henderson, thank you for accepting my invitation.”

“Oh how could I turn it down,” she said with a smile and just a hint of sarcasm.

Manaford said to Brandon, “You can open the champagne.”

“Yes sir.”

“I went ahead and ordered for both of us,” said Manaford, staring openly at her breasts under the see-through blouse. “I hope you like your T-bone rare.”

“That will be fine Mr. Manaford.”

“Please call me Gus.”

“Gus? That doesn’t sound very Italian.”

“It’s short for Giuseppe.”

“Marissa,” she replied and held out her hand.

Gus took it and kissed the back of her hand and then pulled out her chair. “So Rocky told me that your husband had to fly back home.”

“Yes, he had to work.”

“Well too bad, all work and no play,” said the man as he sat down opposite from her. Marissa rolled her eyes. “So, you knew Big Tony.”

“He was our neighbor,” she said, cautiously.

“I heard that you and your husband got to know him pretty well. In fact, I’ve seen some interesting home movies Tony took.”

Truly alarmed, Marissa asked, “Oh God, they’re not on the internet, are they?”

“Not to worry,” he chuckled and then paused to let that sink in. “He had quite a reputation as a ladies’ man, ol Tony did.”

“Well, he was always a gentleman around me,” she said defensively.

“He had quite a harem going for him back then,” said Manaford.

Marissa wasn’t sure where this conversation was going and wanted to get off of the subject of her liaison with Tony Montessario. She’d been a little in love with the man and wasn’t sure she wanted to know about a darker side. At the time, his untimely death had probably saved her marriage and here she was putting all of that in jeopardy again. She just didn’t know how to get out from under Rocky’s thumb.

Trying to deflect the conversation, she said, “Well, that’s all in the past. I noticed that you’re not wearing a wedding ring. No one in your life?”

“I like being single,” he said smugly. “I get to meet fascinating women, like you. Besides, I like to think that I’m a little more discriminating in the women I fuck. Your old boyfriend, Big Tony, would fuck anything with a skirt and he obviously couldn’t handle his drug habit.”

“He wasn’t my boyfriend,” she replied, a little annoyed.

“That wasn’t you in the videos then?”

“I got high a few times and we had sex. Now I can see that it was all a mistake.”

Manaford pulled out a small envelope and poured some white powder onto the small bread plate. “Perhaps you’d like a little hit now?”

“No thanks, not tonight.”

“Suite yourself,” he said as he split the powder with a knife into two lines before rolling up a hundred dollar bill and sniffed a line before placing the rolled up bill next to the plate.

Marissa looked at the coke and decided why not? She knew that she would enjoy herself more if she took a hit. “Okay, I guess a little won’t hurt.” He slid the plate over and she leaned over and inhaled the line.

“So, tell me about your husband,” he said.

“There’s not much to tell. He’s a tax attorney.”

“Sounds pretty boring.”

“It is.”

“How does he feel about your turning tricks for Rocky?”

“Why do people keep saying that? I’m not turning tricks for Rocky.”

“So, he’s not paying for you to spend the evening with me?” he asked as he rubbed the silky arches of her foot against his growing hard-on. She didn’t answer, but by the look on her face he could tell that he was right.

He took a sip of wine. “Why don’t you bring those silky toes onto my lap?” he said as he unzipped his pants and pulled out his rod.