The story of Evaleanna Di Genovia O’Reilly began and ended in a suite at the old Sands Hotel in Atlantic City- at least as far as her father of origin, Gianni ‘Gigi” Di Genovia was concerned.
“I paid the little whore a pretty penny to shut up and go back to her family in Milwaukee, seventeen years ago, and I only done that because I took the girl’s cherry for chrissake.” Gigi bemoaned his current situation to his Captain, Giacomo ‘Jocko’ Cardonella, shortly after he received the call from Brigid O’Shaughnessy, Attorney at Law and executrix of the humble estate of the recently departed, Shannon Kathleen O’Reilly.
“You remember da girl, Jocko, pretty little pinky piece a ass? You’se was all callin’ me Chesta that trip, remember? Like Chesta the Molesta, cause in the face, the girl looked twelve years old. But that body! Momma mia! Remember you kep askin’ me if you could check her ID?”
“I’m an old man, Gigi, I can’t remember the piece I had that trip, let alone you.” Jocko chuckled as he put his big hairy arms around Gigi and patted him firmly, but lovingly several times on the back.
“The fact remains, this girl could very well be your daughter. The timing is right. The girl’s mother never married. Never had any other children. I say you meet with her. See what she wants. Don’t necessarily admit to anything. But show her that much respect, huh, Gigi? Wadda ya say?”
And so it was arranged. Gigi would meet with this girl, this Evaleanna O’Reilly who claimed to be his daughter. He would check her out, see what he thought. In fact, Gigi thought to himself, he’d have Wojo, Jackie Pescatore’s Polack step-son drive him up there. Word was, that kid could really work a woman.
As an up and coming young soldier, ‘Wojo’, as Damian had been christened by Jocko himself, was not only Jackie Pescatore’s right hand, but he was also one hell of an earner. What could it hurt? They’d have lunch with the girl, compare notes, get their knobs greased, and most importantly Gigi’d have some alone time with the kid. Time to feel the young ‘Polack’ out.
All due respect to Jackie, but in Gigi’s opinion, it didn’t matter how much money the kid was pullin’ in, he wasn’t Italian. And in Gigi’s book- that meant he would never be one of them..
Gigi and Wojo arrived at the designated meeting place half an hour early. Gigi had reserved a table overlooking the ocean, and as they strode across the crowded dining room, Gigi had to admit to himself, he done a good thing- bringin’ the young buck along.
The kid was a virtual chick magnet. There wasn’t a set a tits in the place that wasn’t pointed right at ’em. Sure most of ’em was dreaming about ridin’ roughshod over the taut young flesh of his handsome young companion. But hey, even an old married guy of fifty-eight was bound to pick up on some pretty perky leftovers in this kid’s wake.
Wojo saw her first. A vision of loveliness, like nothing he had ever seen. Opalescent flesh, that shimmered with pink undertones, as the sunlight flooding through the windows danced over it. Soft flowing curls, the color of which could only be described as strawberry champagne, framing a cherubic, heart shaped face, and playing softly over perfectly formed breasts, that bounced invitingly with each gentle rise of her hips as the Maître d’ escorted her across the dining room.
“That her?” Wojo put the question to Gigi, without looking away.
Gigi, ripped himself away from dreaming about the prospects of tender young pussy, and caught Wojo’s gaze. The minute he laid eyes on the girl, he was transported back to the sultry summer nights he had spent in that suite at the old Sands. The girl was the living image of her mother. For a brief moment, Gigi’s heart leapt into his throat.
Both men jumped to their feet, as the Maître d’ graciously pulled away a chair, and la visione della bellezza, was seated.
“I’m Evaleanna.” The girl half whispered breaking the awkward silence, as Gigi took her hand gently in his.
“You look… I mean, my god, you look..” Gigi stuttered.
“I know. Just like my mother.” Evaleanna lowered her eyes innocently. “And I guess that makes you Gigi?”
“Yeah.” Gigi nodded repeatedly in affirmation, but no further words would come.
“And you are?” Evaleanna asked, her hand still caught in Gigi’s tender grasp, but her attentions very much on Wojo.
“Damian.” He answered through just a hint of a smile- his striking blue eyes at half mast saying something else all together. “But everybody calls me Wojo.”
Caught up as he was in the moment, even Wojo had no idea he had just introduced himself to the only woman that would ever school him in the high cost of loving.
This is the third installment of the Las Donnas Fatales series which can be read in its entirety by following the Las Donnas Fatales category header located in the drop down menu on the blogs home page.. I have incorporated the three phrasal prompts provided by the OLWG #36. The phrases were:
- right at them
- the high cost of loving