Friday afternoon found Carol Bongiovi making a phone call.
“Hello, this is Mrs. Bongiovi. Is Mr. Davidson in?”
“Yes ma’am, one moment please.”
Carol was put on Muzak hold for less than a minute.
“Davidson here, Mrs. Bongiovi, how are you?”
“I’m fine. Did you find out anything?”
“I have a lead I need to follow up on, but it looks like her husband wasn’t as squeaky clean as he appeared.”
“What does that mean? You have to know something!”
“Not enough yet, I don’t work that way. Let me confirm things and then I’ll have a report.”
Silence came from the other end of the phone and then Carol’s voice hummed as she thought.
“Find out. I need to know.” She demanded. “I’ll call in another week.”
~~~
Peter Davidson, ex-FBI, retired, now head of his own investigative agency, looked at the phone for a few minutes after he had hung up. He knew who Carol Bongiovi was, of course, as one of the first things he always did was an investigation of those who hired him. He valued the contact he had, both in police departments and at the FBI, and working for someone who planned harm to the person he was investigating once he had found them, wasn’t in his plans.
He had been investigating Amanda Matthews for enough time to realize she had a remarkably unremarkable past. No arrests, a few minor traffic tickets, no bankruptcies, no outstanding debts, no enemies that he could find yet, and nothing else out of the ordinary. The only thing he had found so far that raised a red flag for him was the amount of time her deceased husband had spent in Miami. That and the car license plate of one Enrico Sanchez.
A woman in the office next door to where the Matthews’ business had been located had copied down the license plate of a car that had struck her vehicle, scratching the bumper. The car had left without stopping and she had caught the license number, intending to ask Jeremy if he knew who owned it since the man had come out of his office. The next day Jeremy had been killed in a car accident and she never got to ask. It was only when he had been talking to her that she had suddenly remembered the scrap of paper thrown into a drawer of her desk. She had turned it over to him and he had run it.
Enrico Sanchez. Miami. Major drug trade. Jeremy Matthews and Enrico Sanchez. Was there a connection? Or was Sanchez just a customer.
He called and arranged for a flight to Miami.
~~~
Patricia and Richie had spent the entire week together and Friday found them returning to Trish’s apartment after a decadent dinner out. As had become their custom, they settled on the couch with a glass of wine and talked more about their lives, their dreams, where they had been and where they were going.
Silence began to creep into the conversation as each turned more thoughtful as the time progressed. A rising tension in the air belied the calm exteriors of the two. Richie found himself visually tracing her from brow to waist as their discussions died down. He saw a flush start to cover her face as the silence stretched. He reached out with his hand, stroking the fullness of her lips and smiling as they parted.
Patricia took a shuddering breath at his touch, closing her eyes to feel the sensations he was causing. She opened her eyes to see him gazing deeply at her and she knew she wanted this man. Wanted him with a longing that had been growing since they met for their first dinner. Richie seemed to sense a change in her tonight and the ache he’d had since that first night grew in direct proportion to that change.
“…Richie…” she breathed out.
“…Trish…” he answered, his voice deeper with want.
He let her take the initiative, not wanting her to have any regrets. She moved into his arms then and he enfolded her, tasting her sweet mouth in a leisurely manner, arousing her senses until she made small sounds deep in her throat. She stood then, looked at him, then took his hand in hers, leading him to the bedroom.
Everything seemed to move in slow motion as they undressed the other, pausing every few moments to kiss, his lips soft and undemanding even as he felt himself reaching a level of painful arousal. Trish’s body was on fire from his touches and her senses were reeling from the warmth of his mouth on hers.
Neither was sure when they moved to the bed. The room was lit by one soft lamp in a corner and the light caused as many shadows as if the room was lit by candles. Pressing Trish back against the bed, Richie paused over her before he moved to arouse her more deeply.
“Baby, you sure?” His voice was so hoarse with need that she shivered just hearing it.
“Oh yes, I’m sure…” She breathed out huskily, her skin aching to feel his against it.
A slow, lazy, deeply satisfied, yet sweet smile spread across his face as he began to make love to her. Nuzzling the full breasts that pouted so prettily at him, he felt her arch to allow him greater access to her. He blazed a trail from those rounded mounds, kissing his way to her aching center. A gasp, a feeble attempt at demurring, and then surrender met his persistence. She moaned over and over as he pleasured her until the explosion occurred and she went limp and languid in his arms.
Richie raised his head, taking in the temporarily sated woman on the bed. He took another sip of his wine, allowing the warm liquid to heat in his mouth before he again took one of her breasts in his mouth. Trish stirred, now urgent to have him inside her. She had no idea how well that urgency would be answered.
Managing to apply a condom while still kissing and caressing her, he poised himself above her as she opened to him. He nudged himself into position, gentling his movements although he ached to plunge into her until he was buried to the hilt. Slowing increasing the pressure, gritting his teeth as he did so, he felt her expand to accommodate him. He looked at her, making sure she was not hurting and she smiled at him to continue. The longing he saw there filled him with a burning desire to take her, to lose himself inside her. He thrust to the hilt then, hearing her gasp as he filled her with every last inch. Her eyes widened in surprise and then he moved, plunging inside her again and again as he brought her over and she screamed her pleasure.
“Hello, this is Mrs. Bongiovi. Is Mr. Davidson in?”
“Yes ma’am, one moment please.”
Carol was put on Muzak hold for less than a minute.
“Davidson here, Mrs. Bongiovi, how are you?”
“I’m fine. Did you find out anything?”
“I have a lead I need to follow up on, but it looks like her husband wasn’t as squeaky clean as he appeared.”
“What does that mean? You have to know something!”
“Not enough yet, I don’t work that way. Let me confirm things and then I’ll have a report.”
Silence came from the other end of the phone and then Carol’s voice hummed as she thought.
“Find out. I need to know.” She demanded. “I’ll call in another week.”
~~~
Peter Davidson, ex-FBI, retired, now head of his own investigative agency, looked at the phone for a few minutes after he had hung up. He knew who Carol Bongiovi was, of course, as one of the first things he always did was an investigation of those who hired him. He valued the contact he had, both in police departments and at the FBI, and working for someone who planned harm to the person he was investigating once he had found them, wasn’t in his plans.
He had been investigating Amanda Matthews for enough time to realize she had a remarkably unremarkable past. No arrests, a few minor traffic tickets, no bankruptcies, no outstanding debts, no enemies that he could find yet, and nothing else out of the ordinary. The only thing he had found so far that raised a red flag for him was the amount of time her deceased husband had spent in Miami. That and the car license plate of one Enrico Sanchez.
A woman in the office next door to where the Matthews’ business had been located had copied down the license plate of a car that had struck her vehicle, scratching the bumper. The car had left without stopping and she had caught the license number, intending to ask Jeremy if he knew who owned it since the man had come out of his office. The next day Jeremy had been killed in a car accident and she never got to ask. It was only when he had been talking to her that she had suddenly remembered the scrap of paper thrown into a drawer of her desk. She had turned it over to him and he had run it.
Enrico Sanchez. Miami. Major drug trade. Jeremy Matthews and Enrico Sanchez. Was there a connection? Or was Sanchez just a customer.
He called and arranged for a flight to Miami.
~~~
Patricia and Richie had spent the entire week together and Friday found them returning to Trish’s apartment after a decadent dinner out. As had become their custom, they settled on the couch with a glass of wine and talked more about their lives, their dreams, where they had been and where they were going.
Silence began to creep into the conversation as each turned more thoughtful as the time progressed. A rising tension in the air belied the calm exteriors of the two. Richie found himself visually tracing her from brow to waist as their discussions died down. He saw a flush start to cover her face as the silence stretched. He reached out with his hand, stroking the fullness of her lips and smiling as they parted.
Patricia took a shuddering breath at his touch, closing her eyes to feel the sensations he was causing. She opened her eyes to see him gazing deeply at her and she knew she wanted this man. Wanted him with a longing that had been growing since they met for their first dinner. Richie seemed to sense a change in her tonight and the ache he’d had since that first night grew in direct proportion to that change.
“…Richie…” she breathed out.
“…Trish…” he answered, his voice deeper with want.
He let her take the initiative, not wanting her to have any regrets. She moved into his arms then and he enfolded her, tasting her sweet mouth in a leisurely manner, arousing her senses until she made small sounds deep in her throat. She stood then, looked at him, then took his hand in hers, leading him to the bedroom.
Everything seemed to move in slow motion as they undressed the other, pausing every few moments to kiss, his lips soft and undemanding even as he felt himself reaching a level of painful arousal. Trish’s body was on fire from his touches and her senses were reeling from the warmth of his mouth on hers.
Neither was sure when they moved to the bed. The room was lit by one soft lamp in a corner and the light caused as many shadows as if the room was lit by candles. Pressing Trish back against the bed, Richie paused over her before he moved to arouse her more deeply.
“Baby, you sure?” His voice was so hoarse with need that she shivered just hearing it.
“Oh yes, I’m sure…” She breathed out huskily, her skin aching to feel his against it.
A slow, lazy, deeply satisfied, yet sweet smile spread across his face as he began to make love to her. Nuzzling the full breasts that pouted so prettily at him, he felt her arch to allow him greater access to her. He blazed a trail from those rounded mounds, kissing his way to her aching center. A gasp, a feeble attempt at demurring, and then surrender met his persistence. She moaned over and over as he pleasured her until the explosion occurred and she went limp and languid in his arms.
Richie raised his head, taking in the temporarily sated woman on the bed. He took another sip of his wine, allowing the warm liquid to heat in his mouth before he again took one of her breasts in his mouth. Trish stirred, now urgent to have him inside her. She had no idea how well that urgency would be answered.
Managing to apply a condom while still kissing and caressing her, he poised himself above her as she opened to him. He nudged himself into position, gentling his movements although he ached to plunge into her until he was buried to the hilt. Slowing increasing the pressure, gritting his teeth as he did so, he felt her expand to accommodate him. He looked at her, making sure she was not hurting and she smiled at him to continue. The longing he saw there filled him with a burning desire to take her, to lose himself inside her. He thrust to the hilt then, hearing her gasp as he filled her with every last inch. Her eyes widened in surprise and then he moved, plunging inside her again and again as he brought her over and she screamed her pleasure.
Richie felt her response, felt her fly over the edge into orgasm, and allowed himself to follow her into sweet release. Sweat soaked their bodies as they floated in a sea of sensation and passion and fulfillment.
Wow - great chapter. Carol you conniving bitch, leave the past alone. Something tells me if the detective digs too deep, someone will get hurt.
And oh so glad Richie and Trish are taking it to the next level. A smoke is in order after at hook up.
Can't wait to see what happens next. I hope the detective gets a conscious and let's Jon know what his mom is up to. His digging could turn bad for everyone.
Colleen
Thank you so much for another new chapter! I agree with Colleen in wondering what this all will mean and where it is heading...
Linda
Hooray! Richie got himself some!!
Damn Mrs. B - she better get over herself!
Great chapter!
I'm happy for Richie, but what the hell is Carol thinking? Jon will freak out if he figures out...and something's telling me he will, because Carol will surely confront Amanda with the results of the investigation. Why can'T she just be happy for her son?
I just love Richie and Trish! They make such a good pair and your descriptions were so vivid that I needed to go have a smoke after that last chapter, LOL!
I actually enjoy Mrs. B as a villain...I may be in the minority here, but you've done such a great job painting her as in a devious light that I find myself unable to see her any differently!
i have a strange feeling that mr matthews is still alive...hmmmmmm