Chapter 25

By the time David's airplane landed at Scottsdale Airpark early Sunday afternoon, everyone wanted to spend some time alone. It was if they'd all had too much of a good thing.

After doing some laps in his swimming pool to take out some kinks brought about by the flight, David stretched out on a chaise lounge by the pool and phased out. He wanted to get to know the cabal members a little better, perhaps give them some more grief, and he needed to check on his investments to anticipate any changes warranted for the portfolios Monday morning.

Nora changed into some casual clothes and told Pops she was going into the field office to see if the FBI artist had done any work on the new sketches.

Joe didn't mind. He planned to go to the ranch and check on the horses.

After putting everything away, Carol stripped and settled into the hot tub. With a big sigh, she closed her eyes and willed herself to relax. Until that moment, she didn't realize how stressed out she was. Silly, she thought. Everything turned out okay, more than okay. Joe had asked her to marry him. Oh, she'd forced the issue, but she'd known all along that she'd need to make her desires blatantly obvious so Joe would look past the idea he had in his head that he was a hick from the sticks while she was a worldly, wealthy, sophisticated, beautiful...

She giggled at her exaggerated description of herself. She often giggled when she was alone. Giggling made her feel younger when alone. Giggling embarrassed her when with others.

How'd I do, George? I cut my cowboy from the herd and tossed the marrying rope around his neck. I want to grow old with him, so I lassoed him. Waddaya think? Do you approve? If you're listening, Tess, put your two cents in, too. If either of you disapprove speak now or forever hold your peace.

"Do you mind if I join you, Mom?" Darla asked.

Carols eyes popped open, and she couldn't stop another small giggle. For a split-second when her daughter started to speak, she thought either George or Tess was about to voice disapproval.

Did she mind if Darla joined her? Yes. She'd have preferred to be alone to relax with her thoughts and dreams. But...

"Of course I don't mind. Join me," Carol said. "But don't expect me to be very talkative. I'm trying to wind down. It's been a stressful week."

Darla huffed a snort, dropped her towel and set the baby monitor on the cool deck at the side of the hot tub. She was naked like her mother. "Tell me about it. My shattered marriage has me bouncing off the walls. I don't think I've been so stressed since the night David filled me with his semen before I started taking the pill." She settled into the bubbling water, leaned her head back and sighed. "It's comical looking back on that night now. David and I were like the Keystone Cops, dashing here and there, bumbling, fumbling, utterly terrified."

"You kept your wits about you, though, and did the right thing," Carol said.

Neither woman spoke for a few minutes. Carol broke the silence. "You're doing the right thing now, too. Steve wasn't the man for you, Darla."

"Yeah, I know, especially after this weekend. Joe is certainly the right man for you, though."

"Uh-huh."

"Thank you for sharing him with me."

"Anytime."

"Nora's the right woman for David, too."

Carol didn't say anything. She wasn't one hundred percent sure about Nora, not yet, more like ninety percent. Although she couldn't define the problem, something wasn't quite right. Perhaps Nora and David needed to get through a few more disagreements and survive as a couple before Carol could be sure.

"When I find the right man for me, I'll share him with you," Darla said. "Nora, too."

"He might not want a middle-aged woman, especially with you and Nora ready and willing."

"Oh, phooey! If you don't get his motor running, he won't be the man for me. Speaking of Nora. She's something else again, isn't she? David has dated women more beautiful than Nora. He's dated women sexier than Nora, but he's never dated a woman as beautiful and sexy as her. Whew! That gal is hot!"

Carol chuckled. "Turned you on, did she?"

"Yeah. I couldn't get enough of her last night. Between Nora and David, it seemed like I moved from one climax to the next with hardly a pause. I had more orgasms this weekend than I had with Steve in the last six months. Joe's good, too. Ooh, I just love his hands on me. And talk about staying power! Of course, you hogged him last night."

"Yeah, I did. An engagement night shouldn't be shared. We made love. We talked. We made love and talked some more. We did a lot of talking, and this morning when I woke up, I was in his arms and realized my love for him had grown a lot overnight. It wasn't the lovemaking that made me love him more, either. It was the talking. Joe might be a hick from the sticks, but my cowboy has more good old-fashioned common sense than any man I've ever known, and he isn't all full of himself, either. He's comfortable with his masculinity and isn't afraid to show his feminine side. Ooh, Darla, I'm so in love I could burst!"

Her mother's happiness thrilled Darla, but at the same time, it took her down, reminding her she no longer had a man of her own.

"I want you to be my Matron of Honor," Carol said, "and I want David to give me away. I'm going to get married again, Darla. I keep thinking I'm just having a wonderful dream that will disappear when I open my eyes, but when I opened my eyes this morning, my man, my sweet cowboy was lying by my side."

Neither spoke for a few minutes. Carol broke the silence. For someone who didn't want company, she'd become quite talkative. "Do you like my house, Darla?"

"Yes. What's not to like? It's you."

"Do you think you could make it yours?"

Darla considered her mother's question for a few seconds before answering. "Possibly, but I don't want to try. Keep your house, Mom. I watched you and David build your homes, with envy, I might add. I want to do the same - from the ground up without someone like Steve mucking up the process. When I finish, the house will be me, like this house is you. Keep this house, Mom; shuttle back and forth. You can afford to own two homes."

Carol smiled. Her daughter was right. She loved her home. Oh, she'd turn the big house at Arabian Downs into a home, too, one that reflected not only her personality but also Joe's. The big house would be theirs. Darla was correct. This house would always be hers and hers alone. Besides, there would be times when her house would be handy, times when the six of them would all want to be together. She included Darla's future husband in the number. Just because she loved Joe so much she was bursting with happiness didn't mean she loved David any less, or Darla.

"Tomorrow, let's start our search for a couple of architects," Carol said. "One for you, and a different one for me. I doubt one architect can satisfy our different tastes."

Darla beamed. "Lets. Oh, Mom, we'll have so much fun."

"When you design your home, Darla, include a communal room, a place for the six of us to be together."

"Six?"

Carol gave her daughter a knowing grin. "I'm certainly not including little darlin' in the number."

"Oh," Darla said finally understanding. "Good idea. We'll share the pool, the hot tub, the gym and the communal room. The bed at the hotel Friday night was inadequate for the five of us, let alone six." She thought about the problem, and a few different solutions came to mind. Form follows function, she thought and dwelled on the functions, which caused some tingling in her pussy.

"Two king-sized beds shoved together would do the trick," Darla said, "but the solution lacks style."

"Too true," Carol said. "Besides, although the communal room should function like a bedroom, it shouldn't look like one. Ambiance is important, too. It must be a sensual room, one that pleases all the senses."

"Yes, a romantic atmosphere designed to heighten the libido." Darla slid closer to her mother. "Speaking of libido, thinking about the various functions a communal room will need to handle jump started my libido engine."

Darla slipped onto her mother's lap, straddling the older woman's thighs as she gazed into her dark eyes. She leaned to kiss her, but leaned back to be certain the kiss was wanted. It was. They moved toward each other at the same time until their lips met. It was a soft kiss and sweet, very romantic. Darla felt her mother's hand cup her vulva, which made Darla happy. She wasn't alone with an urge. The touch wasn't insistent, more friendly than sexy, but her mother's petting fingers soon took all the friendly out of the caress.

"It's nice to be alone with you, Mom," Darla whispered when she leaned back from the kiss.

"I agree. The communal room should have a private place for just two lovers as part of the overall design."

"And other areas for three, four, five or six lovers at the same time," Darla said as she tweaked her mother's large nipples, pinched them with the pressure Darla knew her mother enjoyed, and pulled them out away from her body, before rolling just the palms of her hands over the now hard points.

Darla felt a finger move inside her, and the heel of her mother's hand pressed against her clitoris.

"That's nice, Mom. Your touch is as talented as Joe's, maybe better, softer, not as hurried. Ooh, I'm getting hot."

"Let's take this discussion to my bed before our fingers get wrinkled from being in the water too long," Carol said. "We'll take turns tasting each other as we toss around ideas about the communal room."

Darla nodded, gave her mother a quick kiss and moved off her lap. She pulled herself up out of the hot tub and bent to give her mother a hand. "I'll eat you first while you tell me your ideas. Then you eat me while I expand on your concepts and voice a few of my own."

It's Sunday, Carrie thought. If I was home, I'd be going to church with Mom and Dad about now. Instead, I'm on my back fucking Baldy back.

He'd unbound her wrists so she could rub his baldpate with her hands while he fucked her. He'd told her he enjoyed the feel on her hands on his smooth head, and whatever Baldy wanted, Carrie made sure, if it was in her power to please him, to gave it her all. Rubbing his baldhead wasn't so bad. In fact, she sorta enjoyed it.

She rolled her little hips up to meet each of his thrusts. Fucking didn't hurt anymore. It wasn't all that great, either, but at least it wasn't painful like it was at first.

"Come with me," he grunted. "Come when I come."

Could she? She didn't come when they fucked unless he diddled her clitty at the same time. She came when he licked her or rubbed her clit when he fucked her ass. He was panting and was fucking her pretty fast, and Carrie figured he'd come pretty soon. She wasn't anywhere close to coming. If she didn't come, he'd be upset with her. He'd...

Stay alive.

Could she fake it? She'd heard about faking an orgasm. Mary Ann told her she heard her mother telling a neighbor lady that sometimes she faked it. Reaching into her memories, Carrie reviewed how she reacted when she climaxed and prepared herself to come, even if she didn't come.

When Baldy started to spew his spunk inside her - sometimes he called semen spunk - she stiffened her body, and while digging her fingernails into his shoulders and pulling at the bindings around her ankles, she moaned with pleasure, warning herself not to overdue her moans and groans. She shuddered and quickly squeezed his cock with her cunt, fast-like, over and over again, trying to make her pussy feel like it was coming for him.

She waited until he collapsed on her, which nearly knocked all the air from her lungs, before she forced herself to fall limply back to the bed like she did after a real climax. Even then, she gave his cock a few extra sporadic squeezes before she let her pussy relax. She didn't need to force herself to pant. Afraid he'd figure out that she'd faked her orgasm caused her to pant without an effort.

When Baldy kissed her and called her a great little fuck, she decided she'd take up acting as a career, that is, if Baldy ever let her go. Tears stung her eyes. He'd never let her go. When he tired of her, he'd...

Shaking away the heavy depression that started to overwhelm her, she smiled softly.

"Thank you," she said, making her voice less mature than it really was. "I like being a great little fuck for you. You made me come real good."

Stay alive.

If David could look stupefied while he was a ghost, that's the way he'd look. He'd just witnessed Gunn being gunned down in the street.

The disorganized hit smacked of the mob, not a planned professional job. When Gunn exited his home, three men stepped from an automobile parked at the curb and started blazing away like they were Wyatt Earp at the OK Corral. David doubted if a third of the bullets flying around struck their intended target.

When their weapons were empty, the three men stopped firing and hopped back into the car, which peeled rubber as it sped away. David joined the occupants of the car and listened.

"Is he dead?" the driver asked.

"Yeah," one of the men said.

"Are you sure?"

"Fuck yes!"

"You'd better be, or the Don will have your balls on a platter."

"He's dead. He got hit a half-dozen times, at least. One right between his eyes."

David switched his connection to Bello. He was sitting with Maldonado in the Don's study.

"I sent some boys to take care of Gunn," Maldonado stated nonchalantly.

"What?" Bello shouted, looking completely shocked for a second. Then his astonished expression turned into a grimace of concern.

"You heard me," the old man said. "When you didn't do it yourself, I took care of it. It had to be done."

"But..."

"I'm disappointed in you, Vincent."

The phone rang.

"Answer it," the Don said.

Bello picked up the phone.

"Tell the Don it's done," the caller stated and hung up.

Bello turned to the old man and glared. He wanted nothing more than to strangle the stupid, geriatric fuck with his bare hands. He was furious! He couldn't remember being as angry as he was at that moment.

The old codger had acted without consulting him first. Fuck! Offing Gunn was the last thing they should have done, especially using the dumb fucks the Don probably ordered to do the job. "The caller said to tell you it's done."

"Good. You shoulda done it yourself, Vincent. The man showed you disrespect. He defied omertà, the code of silence."

Bello shook his head. When Maldonado was like this, Bello knew he couldn't reason with the old man. During the past year, the Don had sporadically reverted to the old ways of getting things done instead of playing it smart. The Don's aging, demented mind had forgotten that playing it smart was what had brought him to power. His mind was slipping, becoming less organized with each passing day. The old man had to go.

With a sigh, Bello said, "I'd better call Frisk. All hell is about to break loose. We might need to go to the mattresses." Bello grimaced. Now he's got me doing it. Going to the mattresses indeed.

David watched Bello plod to his office, fix himself a stiff drink and slump into a large leather chair. He gulped down half the drink before he reached for the telephone and dialed.