#business brokers new york

[joannebarnes]

Are you a new business owner in New York? Discover the advantages of starting your own venture in the Big Apple! 🍎🏙️ Embrace the freedom to make your mark and set your own course. Tap into the city's diverse customer base. Connect with fellow entrepreneurs.

[vnbbusiness]

What You Need to Know About Selling Your Business Through a Broker

Selling a business can be a complex process, and there are many steps involved. One of the best ways to ensure that you have a successful sale is to hire a broker who will manage the entire process for you. If you are thinking of hiring a business broker, then New York City business brokers are professionals with years of experience in this field and can also assist you in obtaining the best possible price for your business. This article outlines the essential steps you need to take when selling your business through a broker.

Step 1: Get ready for the sale

Before you put your business up for sale, it’s important that you do some preparation work. This includes gathering all necessary documents and financial statements, conducting an audit, and performing any needed repairs or renovations on the property or building where the business is located. Additionally, you should ensure that all licences and permits are in order before proceeding with the sale.

Step 2: Set an asking price.

Once your business is ready to be listed, it’s time to determine an asking price. You should consider factors such as market trends, competition in your industry, and comparable sales prices when setting an asking price for your business. It’s also important to consult with an experienced broker who can provide valuable insight into pricing strategies and other aspects of the sales process.

Step 3: Market your business.

The next step involves marketing your business so potential buyers are aware of it. Your broker will handle this stage of the process by creating marketing materials such as brochures and presentations that highlight key features of your business like its location, size, financial performance, services offered, etc. These materials will then be distributed to potential buyers via email campaigns or direct mail campaigns, depending on what works best for your particular situation.

Step 4: Negotiations

Once buyers are interested in your business, it’s time to start negotiations. This is where having an experienced broker on your side can be especially beneficial. They will have knowledge of the market and be able to help you negotiate the best possible deal for your business. During the negotiation process, you’ll need to consider factors such as the potential buyer’s ability to obtain financing, their timeline for closing the deal, and other key details.

Step 5: Closing the sale

Finally, once a deal has been reached between you and the buyer, it’s time to close the sale. Your broker will help you with this process, which involves signing the necessary documents, transferring ownership of the business, and ensuring that all parties have met their obligations. Once you’ve completed these steps, the sale of your business is officially complete.

Conclusion:

Selling a business through a broker can be an effective way to get maximum value for your business while minimising stress and hassle throughout the process. The above five steps—preparation work, setting an asking price, marketing your business, negotiation, and closing the deal—are essential when it comes to ensuring a successful sale that meets both yours and the buyers’ needs. If you live in the United States, there are highly experienced professionals at VNB, a leading New York business brokerage firm who will assist you from start to finish, and selling your business will not be daunting—it can be exciting!

Source link : https://vnbbrokers.com/what-you-need-to-know-about-selling-your-business-through-a-broker/

[fdelopera]

America owes its independence to Haym Salomon, a Sephardic Jewish Patriot

A Jewish American Hero

by Yosef Kaufmann

October 17, 1781. An eerie silence takes hold over the battlefield outside Yorktown, Virginia. After weeks of non-stop artillery shells and rifle fire, the rhythmic pounding of a drum is all that is heard. Through the wispy smoke that floats above the battlefield, a British officer can be seen waving a white flag. General Cornwallis has surrendered Yorktown, ending the last major battle of the American Revolution. The surrender of Yorktown and the nearly 8,000 British troops convinced the British Parliament to start negotiating an end to the war. On September 3, 1783, the treaty of Paris was signed. The war was over.

If not for Haym Salomon, however, the decisive victory at Yorktown never would have happened.

Haym Salomon was born in Leszno, Poland, in 1740. In 1770, he was forced to leave Poland for London as a result of the Partition of Poland. Five years later, he left London for New York City, where he quickly established himself as a broker for international merchants.

Sympathetic to the Patriot cause, Haym joined the New York branch of the Sons of Liberty, a secret society that did what it could to undermine British interests in the colonies. In 1776, he was arrested by the British and charged with being a spy. He was pardoned on condition that he spend 18 months on a British ship serving as a translator for the Hessian mercenaries, as he was fluent in Polish, French, German, Russian, Spanish and Italian. During those 18 months, Haym used his position to help countless American prisoners escape. He also convinced many Hessian soldiers to abandon the British and join the American forces.

In 1778, he was arrested again and sentenced to death for his involvement in a plot to burn the British Royal fleet in the New York Harbour. He was sent to Provost to await execution, but he managed to bribe a guard and escape under the cover of darkness.

He fled New York, which was under the control of the British army, and moved to Philadelphia, the capital of the Revolution.

He borrowed money and started a business as a dealer of bills of exchange. His office was located near a coffee house frequented by the command of the American forces. He also became the agent to the French consul and the paymaster for the French forces in North America. Here he became friendly with Robert Morris, the newly appointed Superintendent of Finance for the 13 colonies. Records show that between 1781 and 1784, through both fundraising and personal loans, he was responsible for financing George Washington over $650,000, today worth approximately over $13 million.

By 1781, the American congress was practically broke. The huge cost of financing the war effort had taken its toll. In September of that year, George Washington decided to march on Yorktown to engage General Cornwallis. A huge French fleet was on its way from the West Indies under the command of Comte De Grasse. The fleet would only be able to stay until late October, so Washington was facing immense pressure to lead an attack on Yorktown before then.

After marching through Pennsylvania, with little in the way of food and supplies, Washington’s troops were on the verge of mutiny. They demanded a full month's pay in coins, not congressional paper money which was virtually worthless, or they would not continue their march. Washington wrote to Robert Morris saying he would need $20,000 to finance the campaign. Morris responded that there was simply no money or even credit left. Washington simply wrote, “Send for Haym Salomon.” Within days, Haym Salomon had raised the $20,000 needed for what proved to be the decisive victory of the Revolution.

Haym’s chessed continued after the war. Whenever he met someone who he felt had sacrificed during the war and needed financial assistance, he didn’t hesitate to do whatever he could to help.

He was also heavily involved in the Jewish community. He was a member of Congregation Mikveh Yisroel in Philadelphia, the fourth oldest synagogue in America, and he was responsible for the majority of the funds used to build the shul’s main building.

He also served as the treasurer to the Society for the Relief of Destitute Strangers, the first Jewish charitable organization in Philadelphia.

On January 8, 1785, Haym died suddenly at the age of 44. Due to the fact the government owed him hundreds of thousands of dollars, his family was left penniless.

His obituary in the Independent Gazetteer read:

Thursday, last, expired, after a lingering illness, Mr. Haym Salomon, an eminent broker of this city, was a native of Poland, and of the Hebrew nation. He was remarkable for his skill and integrity in his profession, and for his generous and humane deportment. His remains were yesterday deposited in the burial ground of the synagogue of this city.

Although there is little proof, many believe that when designing the American Great Seal, George Washington asked Salomon what he wanted as compensation for his generosity during the war. Salomon responded “I want nothing for myself, rather something for my people.” It is for this reason that the 13 stars are arranged in the shape of the Star of David.

[cuubism]

I'm a sucker for 80s Dreamling AUs and would love to hear about yours ❤️

My 80s au is sooooo close to being finished, it's a human au about stock broker Hob meeting goth musician Dream and realizing how meaningless his life has become 😂 basically I saw some 80s au art and was like 'how on earth would these two such different people ever meet' so I wrote how it would happen. Also featuring my beloved New York.

-

He realizes distantly that he’s finished the wine. He didn’t notice, too busy watching Morpheus and just kind of lifting the bottle mechanically to his mouth. He sets it aside, sways pleasantly on his feet, and catches Morpheus’s eye again just as he’s dropping into the final bars of what Hob thinks is probably his last song. Morpheus’s lips curl into a smile, and he swipes his sweaty hair back from his forehead, baring his throat as his neck cranes. God fucking damn Hob to hell. And then Morpheus steps far enough into the crowd to grab Hob by the arm and tug him back towards the makeshift stage. Hob stumbles after him. Morpheus wraps a hand around the back of his neck, twists the other in the front of his shirt, eyes glittering with so much life even as the supporting band plays on in the background without him. Hob’s whole focus narrows in on him. He gazes at the sweat gleaming on Morpheus’s neck, the dark smear of his lips, his heavy-lidded eyes, feels Morpheus’s palm on the back of his neck like a collar dragging him forward, and when Morpheus pulls on him he just goes. And the thing is… Hob’s always just a little bit… careful, when he’s out and about. At a party like the one where he had met Morpheus, no one really cared, and the ones who might were too drunk or high to even notice. But when he’s somewhere he doesn’t know he plays it closer to the vest. Because Wall Street is still a hypermasculine boys’ club, and this might all be legal now but that doesn’t mean Hob won’t be kicked out of his firm on his arse, and he’s always been too much of a realist, too much of a survivalist, to edge too close to that cliff. But as Morpheus drags him into a kiss, someone in the audience whoops.

[robfinancialtip]

🗽🌍Raja Iqdeimat, a successful pastry firm owner, describes her story. Born in Abu Dhabi, she grew up in several places, including Libya, Lebanon, Jordan, and Kuwait before moving to Turkey, California, and finally New York. Despite her parents' lack of education, she was the first member of her family to pursue higher education and succeed. She credits her parents for instilling entrepreneurial skills and determination in her despite their lack of formal schooling.

👨‍👩‍👧‍👦🌱Growing up as the youngest member of a large family of nine, Raja felt unusual, but she believed that each family had a unique person who contributed in different ways. Despite lacking a formal education, she describes how her father was a successful businessman who inspired her to pursue her aspirations. Raja's mother, though uneducated, was hardworking and concerned about her family's well-being, imparting in Raja a strong work ethic and tenacity.

😔💼Growing up in different places and seeking a profession in finance was filled with personal losses and difficulties. Despite working as a brokerage manager in Jordan for seven years, dealing derivatives, equities, and bonds, she felt great loneliness following the deaths of her parents when she moved to the United States as a single mother without a broker's license. When the mass layoff in 2008, she was unemployed for six to seven months in California, struggling to support herself and her kid. Realizing that California's emphasis on the film industry did not fit with her career goals, she boldly moved to New York, where she swiftly obtained a job at an insurance firm and began rebuilding her life.

🏙️🎉While working at a New York bank in 2018, her manager questioned her capacity to buy a Manhattan apartment, which proved critical. This distrust motivated Raja to pursue entrepreneurship and independence. Despite difficulties and misgivings, she bravely launched her own business, motivated by her passion for entrepreneurship and need for autonomy. This marked the beginning of Délice Macarons, her venture into the world of cooking pastry, and her journey toward self-reliance and success.

🚀🧁Raja, a dessert shop owner in New Jersey, faced challenges during the COVID-19 pandemic. Despite lacking retail expertise, she managed everything from decoration to recruitment, relying on her entrepreneurial flair. She and her chef friend opened their first physical store in Cranford, New Jersey, in January 2020. Despite financial constraints, they shifted their business strategy to focus on fundamental products like bread. Raja's resilience and ability to transform adversity into opportunity remained evident.

🌟🗣️Raja's message encourages listeners, emphasizing the value of endurance, adaptation, and believing in oneself. Despite various barriers, including financial difficulties and the enormous task of beginning a business in a new nation, she stayed determined to succeed, demonstrating that anything is possible with devotion and hard work. Raja's path demonstrates the importance of taking risks, pursuing passion, and never giving up on one's goals. Her tale resonates with individuals who want to overcome obstacles and succeed on their terms. Raja highlights the importance of perseverance, hard work, and financial acumen. She promotes confidence in oneself and pursuing one's goals, emphasizing that hard work combined with passion may lead to success in any activity.

[absurdthirst]

The Bodyguard: My Protector {Dave York x F!Popstar!Reader}

Rating: Explict

Word Count: 18.5K

Warnings: Enemies to lovers? Teasing, angst, creepy photographers, controlling behavior, oral sex (female receiving), vaginal sex, rough sex, unprotected sex, obsessed fans, stalking, violence, mentions of blood/blood broken bones, death, mentions of marking

Comment: As a pop star, you are being kept in the dark about the threats that surround you. Your security being led by Dave York, one of the best in the business. Driving you crazy as he restricts your freedom and still makes you burn for him.

Co-written with @pedropascalsx

**Follow @absurdthirst-writes and turn on notifications to stay up to date on all new fics.

|| MasterList || Dave York MasterList ||

A/N: The mood board below is not meant to indicate the race or ethnicity of the reader. Mood board by @pedropascalsx

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

‘You speak to me. Through every word you sing. ‘Take my heart and cherish it forever, I’ve never known true love until you’. I know you wrote that for me. Baby, you know I would never do anything to hurt you. You are my world, my soul. I don’t understand why you didn’t see me last time, maybe your people were rushing you by too quickly? I screamed your name and told you it was me, but you just need to tell your people to let me in backstage. I can just wait for you there.’ 

“Jesus.” Dave slaps the copy of the rambling, startlingly concerning, letter down and sighs as he leans forward and reaches for the scotch bottle that he had hoped he wouldn’t need. “This 'Martin' sound fucking insane.” He snorts to himself. Resnick, his right hand man, was on his way downtown with the original copy, to take it to a lab that was willing to run an analysis on it. Dave York didn’t gain a reputation as one of the best bodyguards in the business by cutting corners or being sloppy. Now he’s protecting, you - one of the newest and hottest performers - and his gut feeling is that this person is fucking dangerous.

He’s doing it again, you think to yourself as you roll your eyes. The rest of the team are being let in on some secret he has clearly made them agree to keep from you. His eyes dart towards you a few times before he passes something to Resnick, and you have to fight the urge to stomp your feet, charge over there and find out what it is. He’s keeping something big from you and you’re not going to stand for it much longer.

“You keep your fucking eyes out.” His tone brokers zero room for error. “No one without a picture ID pass gets by you.” That had been one of the first new rules that he had implemented on your tour. There were pictures on every badge around everyone’s neck or they don’t get near you. He’s seen too much to risk it. “And you keep your fuckin’ mouths shut around her.” His job is to worry, your job is to get up on the stage and perform.

‘Asshole.’ You mouthed as you watched him order everyone around. Your father had insisted on hiring him about a year ago after an incident involving a ‘fan’ climbing over your  gate and somehow going undetected. Thankfully you were out of town visiting family, but seeing the security footage of him sleeping in your bed made you physically sick. After that day your father took control and hired Dave York. Signing every contract Dave produced without even discussing how much and how impacted your freedom would end up being.

You hated him. He was rude, demanding, controlling and the thing that made everything 100x worse? He was the most attractive man you’ve ever seen. The competence and effortless way he captivated a whole room was mesmerising to watch. 

You found yourself riling him up on purpose on a few occasions just so you could secretly watch the way the material of his shirt would get all taunt across his strong shoulders and back. But most of all you wanted to hear the way his voice got raspier and raspier as he got angrier. The sound of his voice going straight to your core as dampening your panties as he cursed out your bratty behaviour.

Dave looks around the room, his eyes meeting every one of his team and he finally nods. “Okay.” He grunts, motioning them to leave. “Get the fuck out of here and do your jobs.” Every single man on his team had been carefully vetted by him and he only took the best. Men who wouldn’t hesitate to kill if necessary and die when warranted. Some scoffed at the idea of dying for some pop star princess, and they had quickly gotten their pink slip.

“How am I getting to my photoshoot this afternoon?” you asked your PR manager who was furiously tapping on her phone screen, “I’m happy to drive myself.”

Dave walks up to you and the vapid woman who runs your PR. He swears that woman would sell your fucking soul for a good headline. He hears the end of your comment about driving yourself and chuckles. “Funny, princess.” He tells you dryly. “You’re not driving yourself anywhere. I’m taking you.” He doesn’t know what it is exactly, but you aren’t going anywhere without him.

You turn to face him and scoff, “No. You are not. I am fully capable of driving myself and I am not a princess.” The urge to storm away grows stronger but the look on his face tells you that he wouldn’t let you if you tried.

“Oh so US Magazine didn’t call you ‘this summer’s bonafide pop Princess’?” Dave taunts, rolling his eyes at how fucking immature you can be at times. He’s never had a grown ass woman so willing to fight him on *everything*. “You are capable of driving yourself, doesn’t mean you’re going to.”

“Didn’t realize you were such an avid reader of trashy magazines, Dave, you should have said! I would have signed a copy especially for you.” You counter back to his mocking. “I don’t need you to drive me, so I will be driving myself.”

Dave’s eyes narrow and he shakes his head. “Not today, princess.” He growls, his voice low enough to have most cautious men stepping back, but you aren’t a man and you aren’t cautious.

“You’ll have to take me kicking and screaming,” you grit out from behind your teeth. Your lack of freedom since Dave's takeover has started to really piss you off. If it isn’t him that’s always a stone's throw away it’s one of his goons and you’re tired of being treated like you're incapable of looking after yourself.

“I’m a grown woman, if you haven’t noticed. I don’t need a babysitter.”

“Obviously you do.” Dave snorts, stepping closer to you and sending you a withering glare that would make most men cower. “Otherwise daddy wouldn’t have hired me.” It’s better that you hated him than started playing fast and loose with your safety. As much as he wants to drag you over his knee and spank your ass until you can’t sit down, he cares about your well-being. “Just…let me drive you. It’s my job.” He’s noticed you’re all woman, but he can’t think about that now.

“Fine,” you say through gritted teeth, “But I have to make a few stops on the way.” You hate the way your stomach twists at the way he’s looking at you. If you weren’t 100% convinced it was hatred you might have considered it was a hunger burning in those dark eyes. “And by the way my Daddy doesn’t tell me what to do.”

“No?” He quirks a brow up and gives a low chuckle, knowing your father controls everything to do with your life, including your career. “Too bad, although what you really need, I doubt your daddy would be up for giving you. He's too…soft to do it.”

You raise a brow to match the expression splashed across his face and take a small step forward until you’re toe to toe and ask him, “And what is it that I really need, Mr York?”

“A firm hand.” Dave smirks. “Applied liberally and quickly to the bottom of your spoiled ass.” He could get fired for talking to you this way, but you won’t. Your father wouldn’t allow it because he knows that Dave is needed, even if he keeps you in the dark on why.

“I’ll make sure to tell my next hook-up to pay special attention to that area just for you,” you reply with a sugary sweet smile. “We have to leave in an hour.”

Dave huffs, watching you turn and flounce off, trying to pretend that you didn’t get under his skin. You sleep with such pretty boys. None of them are even remotely capable of being able to protect you beyond making sure you don’t drop your purse. He huffs to himself, turning around and striding out towards the garage. He needs to make sure your SUV is ready for your little errands.

With less than an hour to get ready and get out of the door you bounced off to your bedroom and locked the door behind you. Resisting the urge to take care of the pulsing in your little bundle of nerves that had been steadily growing since he felt the need to involve himself in your discussion.

Instead you had a very quick shower, throwing on a quick outfit that was cheap and worn enough to not worry about it getting ruined in hair and make up and grabbed your purse before making your way back downstairs and towards the front door.

Dave is waiting for you when you come downstairs, on his phone and scrolling through the different emails that he has already sent to the lab about the letters. Another letter fired off to your publicity to screen all your mail and any more from that person should be brought to his attention immediately. Your popularity is growing and with it, the number of security threats.

“Let’s go,” you simply murmur at him as you push past the door and make your way towards the waiting car.

You slide into the passenger seat and immediately go to plug your phone into the aux cord.

Dave shakes his head, huffing under his breath. No matter how many fucking times he tells you, you refuse to sit in the back unless you are arriving at an event.

“Any requests?” you ask with a grin, knowing full well that he’s pissed at you for sitting in the front. Also remember I wanted to stop off somewhere first, I have a craving for a milkshake.”

“Yeah…” Dave shuts his door and grabs his seatbelt. “Move to the back and buckle your fucking seatbelt.” He knows you won’t, so he is already starting the engine.

“Temper temper, Mr. York,” you reply as you switch on a random playlist. You look at the window and watch as your house gets smaller and smaller as he makes his way towards the studio. “I have no idea what magazine this is for.” You admit and you start pulling at your sleeve.

“They didn’t tell you?” He asks, not even taking his eyes off the road. “Figures. Do you want Baskin Robbins or Cold Stone?” He asks, acknowledging your desire for a milkshake. “Or McDonalds?” He doesn’t tell anyone about your craving for the fast food milkshake even if he knows Arby’s is better.

“Nope. I just get told where to go and when to be there.” You reply with a shrug, “Anywhere closest with a drive-thru, please. Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.” He doesn’t turn towards you, just scanning the road for the closest restaurant that has milkshakes before he finds one about a quarter of the mile up the road.

“Weren’t you like a Marine or something? Why would you want to waste your time doing this?”

“Would you rather I just killed people?” He asks, tossing you a glance as he pulls into the parking lot to circle around and enter the drive through. “It’s not wasting time protecting someone. Just traded my country for a person and use the skills they taught me.” He smirks. “Plus the pay is better.”

“Ohh please,” you scoff back, “You hate this job. You hate me. You’re keeping god knows what from me!”

“I don’t hate the job, or you.” Dave pulls the car up to the window and turns towards you expectantly. “Chocolate or strawberry?” He demands, wanting to know what flavor you are craving.

You scoff again, “Sure, you don’t. Strawberry.”

Dave turns back towards the window. Once the person behind the speaker finishes their greeting, Dave orders your strawberry milkshake. Pulling forward when directed and instead of using the credit card he’s supposed to use for any purchases for you, he slips his own to the bored teenager at the payment window. It’s something he’s done when you just want a bit of junk, knowing your dad would object to you eating like crap when you are on tour. He doesn’t see Dave’s personal credit card bill and you’ve never noticed, so it’s his little secret.

“Thank you,” you say as he passes you your drink and you immediately take a large sip. The moan that leaves your lips is sinful as you indulge yourself in the sweet treat.

“You’re welcome, princess.” He pulls off from the window and moves to the exit. “What other errands do you need to run?” He demands, still unsure why you think he hates his job. He’s gruff, doesn’t take shit, but he’s never taken anything out on you. He’s just….rigid in his methods.

“You want a sip?” you offer, slightly annoyed he never orders anything for himself. You move the cup in front of his mouth and place the straw on his lips. A smile curling up on yours as await his reaction. “No other errands today. Just this goddamn photoshoot.”

Instead of pushing it away, Dave wraps his lips around the straw and sucks. Groaning at the sweet taste of the strawberry milkshake bursting on his tongue, he takes another gulp before leaning his head back. “Photo shoot, got it.”

“Taste good?” You ask as your thighs clench together at the way his tongue pokes out to wet his lips. “Yeah! Get ready to sit around and be bored out of your mind for three hours.”

“Tastes good.” Dave can’t say that he particularly cares for the photo shoots, a lot of the shit is just pretentious bullshit to him, but he does like seeing you in the little outfits. “I have plenty of emails to go through to keep me busy.” He tells you as he starts to drive towards the studio where the shoot is taking place.

“Mhmm,” you hum back at his tone. Clearly ignoring your attempts to flirt or at least make the atmosphere a little less… boring. “Sounds like you've got it all figured out.”

You spend the rest of the journey in silence, occasionally sipping on your milkshake and tapping on your thigh. The studio is in a surprisingly residential part of LA, tucked away somewhere quiet and away from the flashes from the herds of paparazzi that swarm the busier parts of the city.

He orders you to wait and you roll your eyes as he rounds the car to open the door. He ushers you into the studio and immediately starts asking a million questions about how can or can’t access the studio and ensuring that no one without a keycard or pass will be able to get in.

You offer the receptionist a small smile and mouth ‘sorry’ as he continues to whittle off all of his demands. Never before had someone been so thorough… Even he seems to be a little over the top today, you think to yourself as you stand quietly next to him.

Dave is moderately satisfied when his questions have been answered but he’s not thrilled at the security for this place. Instead of working on those emails like he had claimed, his head is going to be on a swivel. Finally, he turns back towards you and motions you over. “We’re ready.”

“Hair and makeup?” you ask the receptionist and she dutifully points you in the direction. You glance over and Dave and he nods his head as you make your way down the hall. “I wonder what the hell I'll be wearing in this one.” You say with a smirk.

“Maybe they will actually put some damn clothes on you.” He grunts, appalled at how little clothes they wanted you to perform in. You were a fucking singer, not a stripper.

“Doubtful,” you say with a shrug as you make your way to the makeup chair. A hoard of people immediately emerging towards you with thousands of dollars worth of makeup that’ll make you look almost unrecognizable when they’re done. “Enjoy your emails.” You shoot back at him over your shoulder.

He huffs, slowly following you but keeping his eyes out for any potential issues. You don’t seem happy with this photo shoot, and if he needs to, he will tell them that you are leaving. You are a pain in his ass, but you deserve consideration. It should have been your choice to be here to begin with.

The interview is brief, she sits and asks the questions whilst you’re poked and prodded in hair and make up. Dave had set a few more ground rules than usual and banned them from asking ANY questions about your personal life and the interviewer is clearly pissed at the lack of artistic freedom she’s left to work with and after about twenty minutes of generic questions she pretty much gives up and announces that the majority of the interview will be focusing on the new album rather than gossip.

You roll your eyes as you're presented with your first outfit of the shoot, it shows more than you’re comfortable with but you don’t have the energy to argue. So you pull on the almost see through body con and make your way into the studio.

The photographer wastes no time walking up to you and grabbing at your waist, pulling you in for an uncomfortable hug.

Dave always tries to hang around the edges of the photo shoot. Keeping a cup of ridiculously expensive - yet somehow horrible tasting - coffee in his hands in order to keep from looking like a hulking thug. He is there to be intimidating, yes, but it does no good to make people try to skitter away and hide. He frowns when the photographer’s fingers dig into your waist and he takes a step forward. His job is to protect you from unwanted threats and fans, but he has no problem telling a self important prick to get his fucking hands off you. “Okay.” He snaps. “Take the damn pictures. We don’t have all day.”

You spend the next ten minutes being contorted and molded into the most uncomfortable positions known to man. Your eyes seek Dave as the photographer makes a comment that makes you shudder and your stomach twist, before sending you off for your second outfit change. 

“Jesus,” you murmur as you look at the two piece swimsuit that left absolutely nothing to the imagination. It was supposed to be ironic, the set decorated like it was the middle of winter and you’re parading around in summer gear.

You squeeze your eyes shut and take a deep breath before putting on the swimsuit and covering it with a robe and making your way back out to the studio.

Desperate to keep away from his judging glare you kept Dave out of your line of sight and dropped the robe with a grimace and exhale that screamed, ‘I don’t want to do this.’ The material had barely hit the floor before the creepy photographer was making a beeline straight over to you.

Dropping the coffee into the trash, Dave can see how uncomfortable you are. His face twisting into a deeper scowl as he charges forward and reaches you right as the twerp reaches you and grips the waistband of your outfit to yank the hips holes higher to show off more of you and damn near exposes your fucking cunt. “You’re done.” He spits, grabbing the man’s hand and twisting it around so that the fucker is helpless to move any way but where Dave directs him - which is away from you. “This is fucking done.” He growls again, ignoring the shouts and curses from the photographer and the people rushing over. “Go get dressed, princess.”

You nod your head at Dave and almost run back to the dressing room, unable to hide from the sound of Dave and the photographer yelling at each other.

You pull off the swimsuit and quickly dress back into your casual clothes before stepping out the door and calling Dave’s name. You know you’re about to be in for a world of hurt when your PR team and your parents hear that you didn’t complete the shoot, but you push down those worries and start making your way to the exit.

“- I don’t give a rat’s ass who the fuck you think you are.” Dave shouts, not backing down from the prima Donna in front of him. “You don’t fucking touch her. The shit you were making her do was boarderline sexual harassment and you aren’t going to do shit about it. Otherwise the local PD might get a tip about the fucking pound of coke you gave in here.”

You stand by the desk in reception waiting for him to come to you. “Dave,” you yell back towards the studio before deciding to go wait by the car.  The air feels thick and you’re not ready for the fall out that’s to come.

The photographer jerks back and Dave smirks a very pleased smile. One that says he’s gotten his point across. “Use what you’ve got, or fuck off. And don’t worry, I’ll tell her people myself.” He turns around and strides off, rushing towards the door to find you.

The sound of the studio door slamming makes you jump, you turn around to see Dave making his way over to you. “I’m so fucked,” you say as you pull on the door handle seconds after he unlocks it with his key fob, “My dad is going to be so pissed. He worked for months to get me a photoshoot with him.”

“He is a fucking coked up pervert.” Dave snarls, snatching the door from your hands and watching as you climb into the seat. “I’ll take the heat, don’t worry, princess.”

“Good luck with that,” you sigh, “Thank you though. I’ve learned to accept that kind of behavior and it was nice to have someone on my side for a change.”

"No one will touch you like that while I'm working to protect you." Dave promises darkly. "Fucker is lucky I didn't break his arm."

"Yeah?" you ask with a slight smirk, "You'd really protect me, huh?"

Dave rolls his eyes and turns to look at you when he goes to shut the door. "It's what I'm paid to do, princess." He reminds you, shutting the door and walking around the SUV.

You watch him as he rounds the car, before opening the door. "Is it too late to run another errand? I'm sure there's some dry cleaning we can pick up somewhere before dealing with this." 

He snorts and tosses you a smug smirk. "Someone's not ready to face daddy?" He asks mockingly before he starts the car. He doesn't answer you, but he pulls out of the parking lot and turns the opposite way from your house.

"Nope," you say putting extra emphasis behind the 'P' "You wanna go eat?"

Dave chuckles and looks back at the road after glancing at you. "It won't be five stars, Princess, but l'll take you to eat the best fucking food you've ever had in your life.”

"Sounds good." You say with a smile before looking over at him, he seems the most relaxed he has all day and you wonder if it's because you're not at his throat for once.

It's not an incredibly far drive, but Dave pulls off the main boulevard and enters a gated community, slowing at the wrought iron fencing and pressing a button on the little pad inside the SUV to allow the gate to swing open silently. Nodding to the man in the guard shack as he drives through and down the street.

You raise an eyebrow as you take in the rows and rows of houses with meticulously kept lawns, "Where are you taking me, Mr. York?"

"Oh it's Mister York now." He snorts. "Told you, I'm taking you to have the best damn food you've ever had in your life." He reminds you. "At my house."

"Something tells me you like being called things that assert your authority." you giggle, "Do you cook? Or do you have a secret wife you've never mentioned?"

He rolls his eyes again and drums his fingers on the steering wheel, reconsidering this entire thing. It was stupid to bring you to his house. "You think I have a wife?"

"I don't know," you say with a shrug, " know three things about you. Your name, your job and I learned today that you like strawberry milkshakes."

Dave grunts and pulls up to another gated driveway and presses the next button on the panel. "Now you know where I live."

You hum in content. His house is beautiful, the lawn is meticulous and clearly he takes pride in every aspect of maintaining his home. "It's a beautiful house.”

"It's secure." Despite the fact that Dave took pride in maintaining the type of home he had always dreamed of when he was a boy, the security was the most important thing. It takes some doing to get to him. The car pulls up into the garage and he cuts the engine after closing the door behind it. "Let's go inside."

You climb out of his car and follow him into his house. It's just as meticulous inside and as it is outside. "You have a beautiful home Dave. What's for lunch?"

"French onion soup and grilled cheese sandwiches." It doesn't sound fancy but he learned it from the girl he had been sleeping with when he was in France and he would never eat it a different way. The soup was already made, he had done that last night and it would be quick and easy to reheat it and make the sandwiches. 

"That sounds incredible," you say as you take a seat, "Never pegged you as a cook." You look around the room and note that lack of personal touches, no photos, nothing to indicate a wife or kids. "Do you have a girlfriend?"

"When would I have time for a girlfriend?" He asks, striding over to the fridge to start pulling out the necessary ingredients. "I'm with you, and when I'm not with you, I'm reading reports that says I need to spend more time with you"

You hum in response, "Does that bother you?" You ask as he hands you a glass of water. "You must get... frustrated."

"I get frustrated when you are mouthy and obstinate. Not caring about your own safety." Dave grunts, removing his jacket and showcasing the double pistols under each arm from the holsters he wears.

"Fuck," you say out loud. "Is that really necessary?" You try to ignore the way your clit begs for some attention at the sight of his broad shoulders stretching the material of his shirt.

"What? You want perverts grabbing you and trying to kiss you?" He asks, lifting a brow. He knows you don't know about the stalker so he keeps it generalized. "Rooting through your trash can for your used tampons?"

"I don't think anyone's rooting through my garbage." you say with a shocked giggle. "I appreciate that you care... about the job that is.”

"That's because I had them change the procedures." It's shocking how much was being kept from you, but that was his job as well.

"What procedures?" You ask before taking a sip of water. And taking another glance around the room. 

Dave sighs slightly. "All your...intimate trash is either taken off property and disposed of, or incinerated. Personnel are monitored to make sure that they aren't taking items and selling them."

"Oh." You take another small sip of your water, your throat feeling extremely dry all of a sudden and then you raise an eyebrow, "What else are you keeping from me?"

"Do you really want to know all the details of your tour, princess?" He asks sarcastically as he spoons soup into bowls and shakes his head. "No, you don't." He answers for you.

"No wonder my Dad wanted to hire you," you murmur under your breath, "Two peas in a goddamn pod." You're pissed but you can't ignore the way your stomach growls at the smell of the soup, you can't remember the last time you had a meal that wasn't green and crunchy.

"I'm more dangerous than your father." Dave tells you simply as he slices a loaf of sourdough so he can make the sandwiches.

You scoff loudly and roll your eyes at him, "Right."

"Think what you want, princess." He huffs. "I doubt your father has a body count."

"A body count?" You ask with a confused look in your eyes, "What's yours?"

Dave turns around and levels a bland look at you. "I've killed more men than you'd want to know, princess."

"When you were in the military?" You ask. Surprising yourself at how calm you are after his shocking admission.

"Before I started protecting wealthy celebrities." He chuckles. "Pays better."

"Mhmm," you hum back, "Can't imagine protecting 'spoiled princesses' gives you the same thrill though." Your fingertip coats around the rim of your water glass as you watch him finish up the grilled cheese sandwiches. "Tell me something else about you."

Dave snorts and rolls his eyes. "Less people shooting at me." He offers dryly. "Well, you know I've killed people, I cook, what else do you want to know?" He tilts his head curiously. 

You giggle at him. The serious expression paired with the adorable head tilt makes your insides heat up, "I don't know. What do you like to do when you're not working?"

"I don't have much free time." He's with you nearly twenty hours out of the day and only had a few days off a month. "A lot of the time is spent in bed."

"Oh," you mumble. You know you're pushing it, and you know he's likely to completely ignore your question or scold you for being so invasive but the question slips out before you have time to stop it, "Not just sleeping I suppose?"

Dave snorts and shakes his head. "When would I have time to find someone to fuck, princess? I can't just pick someone out like you can." He growls, unhappy with the lackluster choices in men you've paraded through your bedroom. Discreetly, of course, so daddy wouldn't find out.

Your laugh loudly at that, "Like it would take much. I can't imagine you're short of offers," you hate the twang of jealousy that you feel at the thought of anyone throwing themselves at him. "You probably walk into a bar and before you can sit there are multiple women begging you to take them home.”

"I don't go to bars." Dave knows what you're trying to ask, but he just keeps on avoiding telling you what you want to know. Enjoying the increasing look of frustration on your lips.

"Okay, so you use hook up apps?" You ask. Intent on not letting this go.

"Hell no," Dave snorts, shaking his head. "I don't fucking use those things, they invite trouble."

"Bullshit," you snort, "You're telling me you're not inviting a new lucky lady into your bed every night?"

"Why?" Dave smirks at you in the most condescending way possible. "Is the princess jealous?" He laughs, shaking his head. 

"Curious. Not jealous," you say ignoring the heat rising in your cheeks. "So, you're what celibate?"

"Not celibate." Dave turns back to his sandwiches and flips them over in the pan. "I do alright when I want to.

"Anyone I know?" You ask, unable to hide the jealousy in your voice.

"Miranda makes it easy enough to get together when we need to release a little steam." Dave shrugs and doesn't even look over at you. He knows your face will be a sight but he wants to see what you say about him fucking your tour assistant. She was a beautiful woman and knew that it was just sex, so it worked.

You're pretty sure he saw the exact moment your heart stopped. "Miranda?" you croak out. "Wow. I guess you do make an attractive couple.”

"Couple." Dave scoffs. "No, we aren't a couple. We just fuck. Scratch each other's itches."

"Why her?"

"Convenience." Dave looks over at you and notes how you look like you're going to cry. "She wanted to cum and so did I, so it works when we want it to."

"So what? If someone wants to cum you'll provide that service as well? Or is it just my assistants that you feel the need to fuck?" Jealousy drips from every word spilling from your mouth.

"Did I hit a nerve?" Dave asks mockingly. "Someone's feeling neglected?" He knows you have a weird attraction to him despite hating his guts.

"Nope," you spit back completely unconvincingly, "Just interesting to find out what I'm paying you both to do."

Dave chuckles. "We fuck off the clock, princess. I don't steal time from you." It's laughable since he's not an hourly employee.

"Whatever," you mumble with a shrug. Annoyed with yourself for being so affected by this. He's made it clear that he doesn't have any desire to fuck you and you chide yourself for letting it bother you so much.

Dave snorts and just hums as he pulls the sandwiches off the heat and starts to plate them up. The last thing to do is melt the cheese on the soup and it will be done.

You reach into your bag and pull out your phone, ignoring the list of missed calls from your Dad and your PR team. You scroll through your unread messages and your fingers linger over an unopened text chain from a guy who you were briefly seeing, Chad, and you consider asking him if he's free to hook up later than afternoon. 

Needing to blow off some steam and try to rid yourself of the jealousy that has made itself home in the pit of your stomach. You're pulled out of your thoughts by Dave calling your name.

"Come eat." Dave slides the plate and bowl in front of the stool at the island.

"Smells good," you say before digging in. "Oh wow," you say with a moan after taking a large bite, "This is phenomenal."

Dave smirks slightly and stands across from you. "Of course it is." He murmurs, even though your praise makes his heart quicken.

"Holy fuck," you moan as you taste the soup. You're so used to eating the same thing pretty much everyday that you have to internally remind yourself to slow down. "This might be the most delicious thing I've ever had in my mouth."

Dave smirks and doesn't say what he is thinking. He can offer you something better, but he just hums and nods as he dips his sandwich in his soup. 

You stir your soup a few times before looking up at him. "Why not me?" you ask before dropping your spoon, "Why don't you want to fuck me?"

That makes him pause for a moment, staring at you and waiting for you to laugh. When you don't, he tilts his head and instead of answering you, he asks his own question. "Why would you want me to fuck you? I'm an asshole."

"Wasn't it you who recently said that all the guys I fuck are assholes?" you reply with a smirk. "You don't find me attractive?"

Dave grunts, knowing this is getting into dangerous territory. If you know how sexy he finds you, you will try to manipulate him, so his answer is just a shrug of his shoulders. "You wear too much fucking makeup."

"I can take it off," you say, looking directly in his eyes. "I can take anything you want off."

"Are you that desperate for a good fucking, princess?" Dave taunts. "You'd be a good girl and so anything I'd say so l'd fuck you?"

You feel conflicted. Your clit pulses with need from his words, but he's clearly mocking you. "You're a fucking asshole, Dave." The urge to get up and storm away from the table grows steadier but you refuse to give. Instead your eyes burn into his as you await whatever taunt he has next.

"I am a fucking asshole." Dave's grin is smug and cocksure as he leans in closer. "But obviously you like an asshole and I'm a bigger one than any of the little pussies you fuck." He shakes his head. "You let fucking losers touch you."

"Go fuck yourself," you spit back at him. Hating the way your body betrays you and despite his words being cruel they make you drip with arousal. "You know what... I'm pretty sure I heard Miranda talking about some limp dicked asshole she fucked once, I wonder who that could have been." You lie, wanting to piss him off in return.

Emotion slides off his face and his eyes flash with anger before they go carefully blank. You're trying to rile him up and you’re doing a good job. "Good thing she begs for my cock every chance she gets." He sneers. "Believe me, you'd feel my dick for days.

"I'm sure she does," you say with a roll of your eyes, knowing how much it pisses him off when you do so. You scoff loudly at him, "Is that what you tell yourself after you give whatever poor soul that finds its way into your bed a shitty orgasm?"

Dave growls for a second before he shakes his head. He knows you are trying to taunt him and it's working. "Keep it up, princess." He warns, jaw rocking in anger.

The growl he makes goes straight to your throbbing pussy, and despite the look on his face that tells you he's not playing with you, you can't help but throw out another jab, "How old are you now, Mr. York? Are you able to keep it up?"

It's the desire to shut your smart mouth that makes him snap. Coming around the island before you can react and grabbing your arms. "You want to find out, princess? I'll make that voice of yours raspy and hoarse for your next show."

"Fuck," you moan as he presses you up against the table. "Yes... Fuck, yes. Show me." you half whimper half plead as his body boxes you in.

This should be the point where he pulls back. Rejects the idea as impossible and takes you back to your people to rail about him being ridiculous and overbearing. But he doesn't.

Not when he sees the naked need in your eyes. Instead, Dave crushes his mouth against yours in a kiss designed to punish both of you.

The kiss is almost bruising, his hand twists around your hair as the other one possessively digs into your waist. He swallows every moan that you let slip into his mouth as his tongue battles yours from dominance. It's too much but not enough at once. You've never been kissed like this before and the only thought you're able to pull together is that you never want it to end.

He likes that you are still fighting him. Even if it's the stroke of your tongue against his. Demanding more of him, and pushing him. Growling into your mouth, Dave slides his hand around your hip and plunges it inside your stupid sweats that you are wearing and into your panties to find you hot and already wet.

You whimper into his mouth as he slides a finger into your slit, seemingly avoiding your bundle of nerves on purpose. "Fuck me," you murmur against his lips before reaching up to start undoing the buttons of his shirt.

His chuckle is dirty, leaning in and nipping the skin behind your ear to make you shiver as he slides his finger back to tease your entrance. "Maybe I can keep it up." He huffs in your ear right before he sinks his finger into your tight cunt.

You almost scream his name as one of his thick fingers pushes inside of you. "Fuck," you manage choke out as he curls it up inside of you. You're pretty sure it must be hurting him with how deep your fingernails dig into his arms, desperately grabbing onto him as your legs threaten to give way beneath you.

He chuckles and hums his approval for how vividly you react to him. "You want to go into the bedroom, princess? Stretch out on my bed and let me have you?"

"Yes, please," you mumble as your face nuzzles into his chest. "Ne-need you to fuck me."

He gives a dirty chuckle and pulls his finger out of you, enjoying the way you whine and your hips chase his hand. He doesn't guide you to the bedroom, instead he scoops you up and tosses you over his shoulder like a heathen claiming his prize.

You yelp at the man as he manhandles you, taking the stairs with ease before laying you down on his large plush bed. Something tells you that you should wait for him to give your permission to speak in here, so you look up at him all wide eyed and patiently, your teeth digging into your bottom lip.

"Why don't you put those stage moves to use? Strip for me." Dave growls, wishing you didn't have that fucking makeup on, but he's not going to make you wash it off right now.

"You want a show, Sir?" you tease, as you move to kneel on the bed. You slowly reach for the bottom of your shirt and inch it up slowly.

"You gonna tease me, or strip off so I can fuck you?" You've already started unbuttoning his shirt so Dave finishes it, shrugging out of the jacket and shucking the shoulder holster for his guns.

"Both," you reply petulantly before pulling your shirt the rest of the way off, and sliding off your bottoms. "I want you to taste me.

"Fucking brat." Dave growls, shaking his head as he peels off his shirt. Always trying to dictate things. "Taste you." He sneers. "You mean lick your cunt? Eat your pussy? Tongue fuck you?"

"Aw, have I struck a nerve? Does Daddy not like being told what to do?" You ask with an exaggerated pout, "Yes, Dave. I want you to lick my pussy."

He rolls his eyes and scoffs. "Bet none of those pussies actually made you cum, did they?" He challenges.

"All of this talk, Dave," you tut, "Yet you're doing nothing to prove you're any better."

"I’ll gag you." He threatens, even as he's kicking off his shoes and reaching for his belt.

"Bullshit," you counter back, "You wanna see if you make me scream your name too badly for that." You remove your bra and slowly remove your panties, making extra effort to bare yourself to him. Before laying back and spreading your legs for him. "Hurry. Up.” 

"Keep it up and you'll not even cum." He growls. "I'll fuck your throat and blow my load all over that pretty face of yours.”

"Doubt I'll cum anyway." You know you shouldn't keep pushing him, but you can't help yourself. "Sounds like that's not the first time you've thought about doing that, Dave. Would you want me to eat it or just lay there covered in your cum?"

"Eat it." Dave grunts, pushing his pants and boxers down in one swoop. "If you were just wearing it, I'd want to take a picture of it. And that can't happen."

"Oh wow," you gasp at the sight of him, and you don't need to look at his face to know he's wearing the smuggest smile right now. "I'd let you take a photo." You admit quietly whilst biting down on your bottom lip. 

"Never let anyone take a picture of you like that, princess." He growls as he stalks over to the bed. "Not even me.”

"I wouldn't let anyone else, but I'm just saying that I'd trust you. Are you going to touch me now?"

"Brat." He kneels on the bed and slaps your inner thigh before grabbing your ankle to drag you closer to him, instead of lowering himself to the bed, he is pulling your legs up over his shoulder to bring your cunt to his mouth.

Your hands scramble to find purchase on the bed as he lifts your hips up towards him, "Dave," you moan as he breath coats your inner thigh, "Please." The second his tongue licks a wide stripe through your folds, you start to lose it, chanting his name over and over and he dives into you like a man dying of thirst.

There's never a civilized way to eat pussy and Dave doesn't even try to pretend there is. His sole goal is to make you eat your words and make sure you never forget when he touched you. Sucking your clit into his mouth while he reaches down and slaps one of your tits.

"Don't stop," you plead as he does something magical to your clit, you whimper at the sharp stinging on your breast but you want to beg him to do it more. You brokenly sob out a pitiful 'please' as he brings you closer to your high. 

Dave doesn't acknowledge you beyond a grunt. Doubling down on the flicks of his tongue and watching you. This can only happen once and he isn't going to deny himself seeing you shatter for him.

"I’ve wanted this so bad," you croak out before everything goes black. Pleasure ripping through your body as his arm tightens around you to keep you still, his tongue continuing its delicious assault on your bundle of nerves as you're reduced to a whimpering mess.

Your choked cry of pleasure is loud, ringing out and he groans against your clit. Slowing his tongue down and working you through the buckling of your hips with the most profound sense of smug pride that he could have. Watching your face as it rapidly cycles through expressions as you cum.

Slowly everything starts coming back into focus, your thighs still shaking from the way he just completely shattered with your earth. "Oh, that was... wow." You say with a giggle. 

"Thought you said I wouldn't make you cum?" Dave huffs with a smirk on his face.

You want to hit him back with a witty retort but it dies on your tongue, instead you push yourself up when he drops your hips and smash your lips to his. Moaning at the taste of you still clinging to his lips.

It's a little too easy to wrap his arms around you and kiss you. Letting you set the tone of this one as he holds you. Dave grunts and he cups the back of your head and pushes his tongue into your mouth just like he had to your cunt.

You moan into his mouth and sink your fingernails into his shoulder blades pulling him closer to you. His cock throbs against your stomach as you bite down on his bottom lip.

"Fuck me," you whisper against his lips, trying to ignore the way your heart is fluttering in your chest. The way you're unable to stop looking into his eyes already tells you that you're fucked, but you ignore that feeling and concentrate on just feeling him. 

Humming, Dave pulls away from you. Watching you for a moment before he nods and pushes you back down onto the bed. Climbing over you to straddle your waist and he looks down at you with his cock pressing against your stomach. "Beg me." He orders, smirking at you. "I want to hear you beg me to fuck you."

It's unbelievable to you how quickly you're at his mercy, the urge to please him outweighing the urge to challenge him and so with absolutely no fight you're like putty in his hands. "Please, Dave," you whisper, staring up at him through your fluttering lashes, "Please fuck me. Fuck. You can do whatever you want to me, be as rough as you need. Use me however you want. Please. Please fuck me. I need to feel you. I.... I need you. Please."

Reaching down, Dave squeezes your breast before he starts to circle your nipple with his finger. Flicking it over the peaked tip and making you moan. "You look good like this, princess." He shuffles back and pulls your thighs out from under him to wrap around his waist.

The noises he so easily plucks from you fill the room, as you continue to be entirely at his mercy. "Yeah?" you ask, keening at his praise, "You like me spread out naked in your bed, huh, Mr. York?"

"What do you think?" He takes his cock and grips it tightly while he slides it through your folds, teasing you with it. Making sure he presses against your clit as he wets himself with your cum.

"I hope so," you reply as he makes you hiss. Your clit is still pulsing and a little overstimulated from your orgasm. "You gonna make me beg some more or are you going to push that big fat cock inside my pussy, sir?"

Dave chuckles at the quick way you try to push him to fuck you. Debating on drawing it out, he decides against it. Instead, he lines up and rather than sinking in slowly, he snaps his hips forward and splits you open in the space of a heartbeat.

The scream of pleasure that falls from your lips as he fills you to the hilt is sinful. It's overwhelming, the thickness of him is something you've never experienced. Even the few toys you've experimented with haven't been as girthy as his cock, and it takes a few moments for your pussy to adjust to the size of him. You whimper as he grits something about how 'he knows it's a lot to take,' as you involuntarily clench down around him. You give him the signal to start moving after pressing your lips to his collarbone.

He grunts as he pulls his hips back, feeling the way your walls drag against his cock and you are possibly the tightest cunt he's ever fucked. He knows he hurt you, his cock is thick, but you're squirming under him and wanting more. "Such a little whore." He chuckles darkly, looking down and watching your lips spread wide as he moves. "Want me to wreck you? Make it hard to sit down, princess?"

You simply nod your head, unable to form a coherent sentence as he continues to stretch you out. You feel completely overwhelmed by him but in the best possible way. "Please, Dave," you beg as he notches against something incredible inside of you.

It makes him grin when he sits up so he can push your legs back. Change the angle even more plus it gives him the distance to keep from kissing you the entire time. Your fingers dig into his arms and he hums. "Hang on."

You feel a little disappointed that his lips are no longer hovering over yours, but the feeling is fleeting as it's replaced by something extraordinary. The angle of his cock rubbing up something inside of you that you weren't aware existed.

Every thrust pushes you further into the mattress, pushing you up the bed as he snaps his hips forward with a single determined goal, making you scream his name.

The room is filled with the sound of your moans and whimpers, "Please," you mumble over and over, not sure what you're pleading for but being unable to stop. You've never cum without clitoral stimulation before now, but the way his cock drags against nirvana inside of you has you threatening to fall over that cliff at any moment.

He grunts, shifting. his hips and he reaches down between the two of you. Rubbing your clit goes against what he wants to do, but he's overheard you talking enough that he knows it's what you need. "Fuck- fuck you keep squeezing me." He pants out, his thumb rubbing hard circles around your bundle of nerves. "You're gonna soak me. You know you wanna."

The added addition of his thumb on your pulsing clit makes you shiver with anticipation, your orgasm is already teetering and you know you're about to be thrown over the edge. "Kiss me," you plead and he simply shakes head no and increases the pace of his thrusts, his thumb doubling down on its efforts as you start to come undone beneath him. Your pussy clamps down around him hard and you scream his name as you cum, flooding his cock and soaking him as he demanded.

You have gotten to him. He's broken his own self imposed rules of never getting too close to the client. He was supposed to care about your safety, your well being. Not give a shit about your orgasms, or the way you look when you cum. He bares his teeth and takes it out on you. Speeding up and making sure that his thrusts are punching the head of his cock against the spongy cervix deep inside your cunt as he tries to fuck away the realization that he's in too deep.

He pounds relentlessly into you, chasing his own orgasm as he mindlessly starts to build another up for you. Every drag of his cock makes your legs tremble more and more. You never want him to stop and you want to feel him buried deep inside of you whenever he needs relief. "Fill me up," you plead as your third orgasm washes over you. It takes you both by surprise as you clamp down hard around his throbbing cock. As he continues to thrust into you the realization that he may have ruined all other men for you hits you like a tonne of bricks.

"Can't." Dave growls out, twitching at the idea of filling you up and the next swing of his hips nearly makes him cum, but he can't risk getting you pregnant. He would ruin you and he can't do that. "You- it's too- too risky."

"IUD," you whine in response, "Wanna feel all of you."

That does it for Dave, the sound of need rumbling in his chest as he flattens himself over your body and drills his cock as deep as he can work himself. Watching you as he starts to pump you full of his cum with a groan of your name.

"Holy shit," you pant as he fills you up, "That was... you're incredible." You giggle. He stills inside of you and you think you'd be content to stay here in this moment forever. You want to ask him to kiss you again but you don't, instead you just look up at him and bask in the afterglow. "No one has ever made me cum before," you admit with another giggle. "I thought I'd just have to rely on my vibrator forever."

He throbs inside you for another moment before he chuckles and starts to pull out of you. "Then you have been fucking the wrong boys." He groans at the sight of his cum leaking out of your cunt, taken by it. Wanting to push it back into your cunt and keep it there with his fingers until he realizes that he can't do this again. Shuffling back and standing, he runs his hand through his hair. "Use the bathroom or whatever you need, I'll get ready to take you back."

"Oh, okay," you reply, feeling your face fall at how quickly he moves away from you. You push yourself up off the bed and scramble around looking for your clothes. You pick up your sweatpants, bra and t-shirt and make your way into the bathroom. Once in the bathroom you clean yourself up and start to get dressed. Realizing that you left your panties somewhere in his room but deciding not to bother him as he clearly wants you out of his house. So you pull on your sweatpants, bra and t-shirt and make your way downstairs to find him. Forgetting about your discarded panties in the process.

Downstairs, Dave sighs, redressed in some clothes from the dryer and mentally trying to put back up the barriers between you and him. He needed to be objective, not emotional and he had realized while he was fucking you that you've gotten under his skin. You are his client, not his girlfriend.

"Hey," you mumble as you enter the kitchen and see him standing there waiting for you. "Did I do something wrong?" you ask before slipping on your shoes. He barely glances over at you as you do so.

"No." Dave continues to clean up the kitchen and load the dishwasher. "Are you ready, princess?" He asks, closing the door to the machine and turning around to look over at you. "We need to get you back."

"Yeah," you say quietly, "I'm ready." You pick your phone up from his kitchen table and follow him out to the car. Climbing into the passenger seat and waiting for his incoming speech about how it's safer for you to be in the back but it doesn't come. He doesn't glance over in your direction, he simply switches on the ignition and waits for you to click on your seatbelt and starts to drive away. 

The drive back is quiet. He doesn't look over at you but he feels your eyes on him every few seconds. Refusing to start a conversation with you when you clearly want to. It's better this way, especially since this cannot happen again.

Your fingernails dig into the meat of your arm as you glance over at him, unable to stop yourself from trying to gauge what he's thinking. His demeanor is stiff and you can feel tension flooding the air but you can't bring yourself to say anything to diffuse it. Deciding that you'll wait to see if he speaks first.

Once he has pulled up, Dave puts the SUV in park and cuts the engine. Getting out of the driver's side, he walks around the car to open your door, staying silent as he waits for you to start pitching a fit or yelling at him.

"Thanks," you murmur with a fleeting but polite smile before walking past him. The second you open that door you know you're in for a world of hurt so you take a large inhale before twisting the doorknob.

"Where the hell have you been?" Your father booms at you before both of your feet are in the door. 

"Avoiding this," you say with a small gesture of your hand, "I'm not going to argue with you. And before you mention it... that photographer was a fucking creep." You walk past your father and your tutting PR manager and up the stairs.Listening to the cruel taunts your father bellows at you and leaving Dave to deal with the fall out. 

"Before you say anything, the asshole you chose to photograph her was pawing her." Dave growls, scowling at your father. "It was disgusting."

You close the door behind you. You don't want to deal with this right now, you just want to get into your comfiest pajamas, so you do just that. Before climbing into bed and thinking about today, thinking about how his lips felt as he crashed them against yours. Since the drive home your pussy has started to ache from the way he fucked into you. You close your eyes and focus on the way you can still feel him.

"Do you know how long it took me to land that photographer?" Your father demands, puffing up his chest and looking at Dave in annoyance. As if the man thought he could actually intimidate Dave."Who fucking cares?" Dave hisses. "The contract you signed states that I have complete control over your daughter's safety and that includes killing any sessions or events that I see fit." He reminds him. "I think her being assaulted by a fucking man who couldn't keep his fucking hands to himself posed a threat to her safety. Or would you rather there be a story about how her manager and father wouldn't protect her from sexual assault because the photographer was popular?" Dave wasn't above leaking a story for you, another clue that he was too involved with you. 

You can hear Dave's voice echoing through the house. His words are muffled but you're confident that he's standing his ground and sticking up for you. Lack of sleep and the events of today catches up on you and you let yourself drift off into a comfortable nap.

Dave watches as your father turns around a strides off, unhappy with his decision but there wasn't a hell of a lot he could do about it. Not if he wanted to keep Dave protecting you and he knows he can't change your security. Not with the threats that he has been keeping from you. 

Instead of going to his office, he climbs the stairs to see what you are doing. Opening the door to your bedroom, he finds you asleep sprawled over your bed and he huffs. Smirking with pride at wearing you out, he walks over and picks up your throw blanket and covers you up. Watching you sleep for a moment before turning around and walking out. He can't have another lapse in judgment, not when your safety was in jeopardy. 

*

It's been three days. Three days since the disastrous photoshoot and three days since Dave. You weren't sure what to expect from him afterwards, not that you were expecting anything, but the way he's clearly avoiding and ignoring you makes your heart drop. You've seen him a handful of times, using finding an excuse to dip out of the room or watching him start a conversation with someone else. You sent him three texts and all three have gone unanswered. This morning you walked into your living room and he glanced over at you before making his way across the room to Miranda and your stylist Luna. All three of them then disappear from the room as you stand there awkwardly.

"Before she uses anything, you verify where it comes from." Dave has gotten more letters and the results from the lab have him on edge. There have been traces of poisons on the paper but they can't tell if it was from the sender or something that had been contaminated in transit. There was even something off about the postal marks. That was still being investigated.

"Every bottle of water, every coke. If it doesn't come from us, she doesn't get it." He glances between the two of them. "Luna....you need to make sure that no one has access to your supplies."

Eventually the three of them emerge from the room and Luna gestured for you to follow her upstairs. You were briefly appearing on some tv show via video link and she was there to get you all glammed up.

Dave doesn't watch you as you climb the stairs but he does grab ahold of Miranda's arm when she moves to follow. Holding her back until everyone is out of earshot. "Hey." He frowns slightly. "Tonight. Get a drink with me?" He asks, watching as the pretty woman breaks into a happy smile. She wouldn't if she knew that he is planning on telling her that he's not sleeping with her anymore. "What do you say?"

You make a deal to ask Luna to go light with the makeup. No smoky eye or bold lip today. Wanting to keep it light and natural. She works her magic with your hair and uses minimal makeup, only enhancing your natural beauty and glow. Just as she's finishing up your door swings open and Miranda comes bouncing in.

"Hey babe," she greets you with, before turning all her attention to Luna, "You remember that guy I told you about, the one I've been kind of seeing for a little while? He asked me out tonight." She gushes with a wide smile plastered across her face.

"That's great," Luna gushes back before going off on some excited rant about how she should wear some off the shoulder dress that some magazine had lent to you, because they'd never notice that it went missing for just one night.

You feel tears spring up in your eyes, acid rain threatening to spill down your cheeks and you bite down onto your lower lip to avoid them breaking free. Luna and Miranda are too busy excitedly chatting about her upcoming date to notice how quiet you are.

You slink out of the makeup chair and pull the outfit set out for you from the hanger and make your way into the bathroom to get changed. "Fuck him," you mutter to yourself as you look in the mirror, he'd only touched you once but you were hooked. Never in your life had you felt more comfortable, safer and more alive than you did in those moments that he made you his and you hate yourself for losing yourself in him so quickly.

Dave strides back to the office and closes the door. He's tried to stay away from you, afraid that he will reveal too much. This has gotten complicated and if there's one thing he knows is that complicated gets messy. Pretending to ignore your hurt eyes has given him problems and he's picking up his phone. "Resnick." He greets the other man as soon as he picks up. "Need you to watch the princess tonight." He grunts, looking down at his calendar. "Need to take care of something and she's gonna be here all night. Easy work."

The interview goes by smoothly, the late night host asking you a few questions about your upcoming tour and your plans for once it's finished. He teases you about your plans for a much needed break after it's finished and he reminds you that the last time you said that you'd dropped a surprise album.

It's early evening once you'd recorded your segment for the show airing later that night. You have a few texts from friends saying they're meeting up at a bar tonight and how you should come.

After realizing that Dave will be too occupied on his date, you text back one of your friends for the address of the bar and say you'll swing by after escaping your babysitters. You see the rack of loaned dresses still untouched from earlier and run your fingers across a few of them, settling on a short black backless number and tucking it under your arms before heading back upstairs.

Dave represses a sigh when he sees that Miranda has obviously taken pains with her appearance tonight. He recognizes the dress as one that had been brought in to loan to you, but he doesn't know if you might not have encouraged her to take it. You knew that he was fucking your assistant and you might not care. Instead of frowning, he reaches for her and gives a tight smile. "I thought we could go to a bar." He offers, the real reasoning is that it would be public enough to prevent a scene, something Dave despises.

Once the coast is clear and you're happy that Resnick is too busy to notice you slipping out, you grab your keys from the drawer and make your way to your car. Slipping into the drivers seat for the first time in ages and punching the address to the bar into your GPS. Once out of your driveway, you switch on a playlist and drum your fingers against your steering wheel, singing along loudly as you navigate your way through the LA traffic.

Blissfully unaware of the car that's been trailing behind you since you left your gated community.

Almost 25 minutes later you're pulling up to the bar your friends are in and searching for a spot in the parking lot out the back.

You groan a little when you notice the only available spot is the furthest one from the bar. You pull in and switch the ignition off, taking a few minutes to look in the mirror and fix your hair.

You grab your phone and purse before stepping out of your car and locking the door, taking a few steps forward and almost crashing into a person emerging from the back of your car.

You start to apologize but he just stands there, staring at you with a smile splashed across your face that fills you with unease.

"Did you get my flowers?" He asks, taking a step towards you, "I'm a little upset that you haven't been writing back to me, but I know that you've been busy, sweetheart."

Your heart starts to slam in your chest as he takes another step towards you, you scan the parking lot for signs of another person but you're all alone with him.

"What's the matter, sweetheart?" He asks with a frown, "It's me. It's Martin. I know you've been reading my letters. I hand deliver them to your mailbox everyday."

“I’m so glad that you invited me out." Miranda reaches out and touches Dave's arms, squirming on her high top seat at one of the last remaining tables in the bar. "I didn't think we would ever do this." The sex has been fantastic but it's only sex and she doesn't try to push for more since Dave isn't the type of man who is pushed around 

"Yeah." Dave's head is on a swivel, glancing around the bar as they both wait for the drinks that had been ordered. Frowning slightly at the rowdy group of people in the back corner. 

You remember the one thing Dave warned you to do if you ever found yourself in a situation like this. 'Do NOT panic. Try to remain level headed.' You take a small inhale and plaster a fake smile on your face, "Of course, Martin. Hi. How are you? The flowers, oh, they were beautiful. Thank you. What are you doing here?"

He tuts and takes another step towards you, "I saw you leaving, sweetheart, wanted to see where you were going to in such a hurry. It's been so long since you left your house without that guy," he snarls and you realize he's talking about Dave. "It's been so hard to get close to you.”

A shiver runs through you as his words bounce off your goose-pimpled skin. "He's not here now," though he says with a creepy smile.

"We should go inside," you say as he continues to inch closer to you, "We should get a drink."

You don't want to go anywhere with him but you figure the second you're in the bar your friends will spot you and you can signal for some help but he just shakes his head "Oh, sweetheart, it's so loud in there. We have so much to talk about. So much to do.”

You breathe out a shaky exhale before an anxiety shiver rips through you. "Just a quick drink and maybe afterwards we can grab a bite," you suggest. Trying to remain calm as he starts to box you in.

"I don't think so," he says before shaking his head, "We've been waiting so long to be together, angel, why would we waste our time with those losers in the bar. Don't think I don't know who's in there. I've seen their pathetic instagram stories... They're not your friends, they're using you... can't you see that?" He rants.

Your phone vibrates in your hand, but you don't look down at it. Instead you attempt to unlock the screen with your passcode. Keeping your eyes focused on Martin as not to draw attention to what you're doing. Your phone lightly vibrates a few times, letting you know that your attempt to unlock your phone had failed. You take another deep breath as he continues his unhinged rant and you enter it again. This time correctly.

Without looking down you tap the bottom left hand of your screen and pull up your call list, pressing one of the names at the bottom of the list knowing that Dave number occupies the majority of the list. 

His drink is wrong. How they could fuck up a whiskey on the rocks and give him a tequila and water, he will never understand but that isn't important. His hand curls around the drink and he leans forward as Miranda sips her. "Listen, there's a reason that I invited you out tonight..." He starts, huffing when the phone in his breast pocket starts to vibrate. 

"Of course." Her lashes flutter and Miranda looks positively smug. "You wanted to get laid again. Don't worry, you're getting lucky."

Dave ignores that and lets go of the drink to pull his phone out. Seeing your face pop up, he frowns, wondering why you are calling him. "Princess? What are -"

"-you got all my letters. What did you think?" Dave's eyes widen when he hears a voice that doesn't belong to you, sounding like it's several feet away and he can hear the background noise. Obviously not in the house.

His face snaps into a fierce scowl and the chair screeches against the hardwood floors as he stands. He can't shout to get your attention, you might just have the phone in a pocket. Instead he's placing you on speaker phone and immediately starts to pull up the tracking app he put on your phone as he looks at Miranda. "Call Resnick now." He orders her harshly. "Ask him where the fuck your boss is and why he isn't with her."

Your eyes continue to dart around the parking lot, searching for any sign of life as it becomes clear that you're not making it into the bar. You pray Dave has picked up the phone but you're unable to sneak a glance, terrified that Martin will notice and take your phone off of you so instead you ask him another question, something to placate him and keep him from trying anything. "Oh the flowers," you gasp, "Gosh, Martin, you are so thoughtful. How did you know they're my favorite?" You ask. Making an effort to emphasize his name.

"You told me, silly," he says with a laugh that makes you skin crawl, "On Fallon. You said that tulips were your favorite. I know a hint when I see one. Let's get out of here, sweetheart. We don't want the paparazzi getting sniff of you being in the area. I don't want you photographed dressed like that."

"Fuck...fuck...fuck!" Dave rages as he hears the comment about leaving. If it's Martin and he gets you into a car, Dave might never see you again. "Stall him, princess." He hisses, cursing the app for taking so goddamn long to pull up your location. Fucking cell service is shit downtown.

"Why don't you get in your car and I'll follow behind?" You suggest. Not wanting him to get in your car and definitely not wanting to get in his. "I don't wanna leave my car in the lot."

"Don't be stupid, sweetheart." Martin hisses, "We will take my car. The last thing I want to do is get stuck in some god awful LA traffic because you got turned around trying to follow me somewhere."

"I have GPS, I'll just punch in your address and if I lose you it's fine, I can just follow the navigation system.”

Come on Dave, you think to yourself, praying he's on the other end of the phone and/or coming to your rescue.

"But really I think we should go inside and get that drink before we go anywhere," you say again, desperate to hold off for as long as possible. But you see the impatience in his eyes, you see the way his eyes go dark as he realizes that you're stalling for something. For someone.

"I'm not an idiot, sweetheart," he snaps at you, "And neither are you. He will arrive any minute and take you away from me if we don't leave now and I know you don't want that. I hear the words you're singing to me in your songs and I can't bear to spend another night being kept away from you."

"Fucking finally." Dave growls, moving towards the door when he sees the dot pop up on the map. His eyes widen when he realizes that you are right here. In the parking lot. You are right in the fucking parking lot of the same goddamn bar he is in. He doesn't bother to say anything to Miranda, just shoving past people and running out the door as he listens to the increasingly agitated Martin start to scream at you.

Your stomach twists as you listen to the delusional words he's now screaming at you, occasionally quoting some of your own lyrics at you in between the unhinged ranting.

"Martin," you plead as he boxes you up against your car door, "We're friends, right?" you try to calm him down by saying but the sudden burst of rage that flashes in his eyes tells you that you've really fucked up.

You squeeze your eyes shut after his hand comes out and strikes you across your cheek. It's only after the immediate throbbing from the slap that you realize that you're crying. Tears streaming down your face as you attempt to placate him. You squeeze your eyes shut again and you let the one word that you've wanted to scream for the past ten minutes fall from your lips, "Dave."

The phone in Dave's hand falls to the ground but he doesn't even bother to pause. Too busy running towards the parking lot and he hears a sharp cry. Eyes narrowed as he spots you, a man pulling his hand back and Dave hisses.

"You fucking bitch! You're mine! You're mine, you're mine! You belong to me!" You cry out again when he brings his hand down, slapping you across the face as he screams at you.

Pushing his body to move faster, fury floods Dave’s veins and makes him scream out a yell as he barrels towards the attacker who is trying to hurt you. 

You whimper as you feel his hot breath coating your face as he moves closer and closer, screaming louder as he does so. You prepare yourself for another strike as he repeats over and over than you're his property, keeping your eyes squeezed shut the entire time.

Lowering his shoulder, Dave slams into the assailant like a freight train. Driving him to the ground and away from you in a burst of rage that has him immediately hammering his fist into Martin's sides as he pushes up off of him to get a better angle to beat the motherfucker to death.

It's over as quickly as it started. The sound of someone crashing into another, followed by a sharp cracking noise as a fist slams into a jaw. Shattering the bones at immediate contact. Your eyes briefly flicker open and close again at the sight of Dave. 

Safe. You think to yourself as you crumble to the concrete ground. The ringing in your eyes drowning out the sound of each blow Dave delivers to your attacker. You don't hear the sharp squeal of a car tire as Resnick, Ari and Kovak pull up in the parking lot. You don't hear Dave screaming in fury at them as they pull him away from Martin. You don't hear Miranda calling your name as she drops down to your side and gently caresses your throbbing cheek.

Dave's focus narrows to just the target. The ten inch by five inch oval that comprises Martin's face. Bloody now that he has hit him multiple times but he just keeps whaling on him, again and again and again despite the other man not fighting back. The image of your terrified eyes and the welts on your cheek that he had gotten a brief, split second glance are all he can imagine as he tries to inflict as much pain on your attacker as possible. Screaming and fighting when hands drag him away from his target. Lunging for him again and scrambling to shake off his team in his bloodlust to get back to the man who had dared to touch you.

You feel unfamiliar hands on you and you shudder before everything comes back into focus. Miranda. She's kneeling in front of you, your face resting in her hands as she checks out the painful welt throbbing on your cheek. 

It takes Dave well over a minute but he finally calms down enough that the team lets go of him. Jerking his shoulders free of their hold, Dave spit towards the prone man, "fucker." He hisses before he turns and rushes the few steps towards you and drops to his knees in front of where you are sprawled on the ground beside your car. "Move." He orders Miranda roughly, needing to see you are okay himself. 

"She's fine," you hear Miranda shoot back at him, still holding your face in her hands.

"Move." His voice is harder, more forceful and his own bloody fists push her hands out of his way. He wants to make sure of that himself and even then he will have a private doctor come and check you out.

"Dave," you mumble as he inches towards you, "I didn't... ! didn't listen to you. And I'm so sorry. All of this is my fault."

"Shhhhh shhhhhh it's okay. " He will yell at you later, when you aren't in shock. But for now, his hands are slow and gentle as he reaches for you. "You're okay. He's not going to hurt you."

"He's not going to hurt anyone." Resnick huffs, coming over to stand in front of you and Dave. "He's dead."

"Oh God," you squeak out, "He's dead because of me."

"He's dead because of himself." Dave tells you sternly, his dark eyes focused on you. He was the one who had killed Martin, and he would do it again. "He chose his own fate. He could have walked away. He died because he didn't."

You nod a few times just to acknowledge that you heard what he said, before a new stream of tears start to flood your cheeks, "I need to get out of here."

Dave can't leave. He’s killed a man. He will have to wait for the police so he looks up at Resnick. "Resnick is going to take you home." He tells you, starting to draw you up to your feet. "But don't shower. Don't do anything. The police will come and they will need to see you exactly as you are."

"Okay," you murmur, looking up at Dave. "Don't be long, please."

"I won't." He breaks, seeing the fear and sadness on your face. Leaning in and pressing his lips to your forehead briefly before he turns you over to his teammate and watches him escort you away to the waiting car.

You climb into the back of the car, knowing it'll give Dave a little peace. Resnick speeds out of the parking lot and towards your home. The journey passes in a blink of an eye and before you know it he's rounding the car and helping you out, leading you into the living room and onto the sofa. Before disappearing into the kitchen to grab you a bottle of water.

When the cops arrive, Dave answers their questions as succinctly as possible. The bar's cameras on the parking lot confirmed Dave's version of events and the team had scans of the threatening letters in the vehicle. It takes an hour to get the body loaded up and the crime scene photographed.

Dave tells them to follow him to your house so they can collect evidence from you and get your statement.

The rest of the evening goes by in a blur. The cops ask you a million questions, some over and over again as you're forced to replay the evening over and over. You feel drained, your face is throbbing and your hands haven't stopped shaking for hours.

Dave walks over to you about another hour of questions and breaks in. "That's enough." He tells them. "She's given you her statement, you can collect her clothes but we are done." He insists. "Any other questions should be directed through the legal team. She's been through enough tonight." 

It seems like eternity for them to leave. Even after Dave tries to hurry them up. Eventually you're ushered up the stairs by somebody as Dave answers the last few questions. Someone stands outside your bathroom as you pop your clothing into an evidence bag and pass it out to them through a slight crack in the door. Immediately closing it back up again and slipping into a much too hot shower. And letting the tears you'd been holding back fall freely.

Once the police have left, Dave sighs and locks the door and sets the alarm. He's sent everyone home and even had a short conversation with Miranda. It hadn't been pretty, but she hadn't really put up a fight after learning that Dave had killed Matin. Apparently the idea of a deadly man was more appealing than the reality. Trudging up the stairs, he opens the door to your bedroom and hears the shower going in your bathroom. You've held yourself together with nothing more than sheer determination and even though his hands are bruised and cut, bones obviously broken, Dave doesn't hesitate to start stripping outside of your bathroom and once he's naked he opens the bathroom door to join you.

You don't hear or see the bathroom door open. Your skin is sore from the way you've scrubbed it raw. Trying to remove every trace of this evening from your skin.

Opening the shower door, Dave steps into the shower and his heart aches when he sees you curled up on the bench. "Shit, come here, princess." He moves over to you quickly and scoops you up into his arms, taking your place on the bench and holding you in his lap.

You're not sure how long he holds you for, his voice gently soothing you as you sob brokenly into his neck. You feel him gently wash the conditioner out of your hair before lifting you up and out of the shower.

"It's okay." Dave murmurs, grateful that he's able to carry you instead of insisting that you need to walk on your own. The only time he lets you stand is as he dries you off. Gently rubbing the towel down your body and wrapping your hair for you. Picking you up again to carry you through to the bedroom and tuck you into bed.

"Stay with me?" You ask as he tucks you comfortably into your bed. "Please." You feel a twinge of guilt for asking, knowing that he had gone on a date with another woman a few hours before, ignoring the feeling that he doesn't want you.

“I’m not going anywhere." Dave promises, rounding the bed and climbing in beside you before he plasters himself to your back and wraps his arms around you to drag you closer to him. "I fucked up." He whispers into your hair. "I'm so sorry, princess. I didn't protect you."

"I ruined your date," you murmur into the pillow, placing your hand on top of his, "I got jealous and I fucked everything up." Tears spill out onto your pillow as you start to sob again.

It's news to Dave that the reason you were there was because you were jealous. He pulls you to him and turns you around so you are facing him. He doesn't care that both of you are naked, he's trying to comfort you. "You didn't ruin anything." He promises you, rubbing your back as you collapse against his chest to cry. "It's- it doesn't matter. Miranda knows now that I was ending our arrangement."

"I'm so sorry, Dave," you sob into his chest, wrapping your arms even tighter around him. "Promise me you won't leave, even once I've fallen asleep?"

"I'm going to be here, princess." Dave tightens his hold on you, just shy of squeezing the air out of your lungs. "I'm gonna be right here, I promise." He doesn't know how to soothe you, just rubs circles on your back and holds you tight, letting you sob out all your fear and anger and disappointment. 

Sleep comes quicker than you anticipated. The warmth of his skin seeping into yours as he holds you plush against him. You wake as the early morning light breaks through the crack in your curtains and beams down directly on your face. His gentle snores vibrate in your ear as you press a kiss to his shoulder. He kept his word. He didn't leave in the middle of the night as you feared. He looks peaceful, his usually tense shoulders slack and his brow not burrowed for a change. You slightly shift up and press a kiss on his lips, before nudging your nose against his.

"Hmmm." Dave frowns slightly and his hand slides up your back. "You're awake?" He mumbles sleepily, opening an eye and looking at you. He had anticipated that you would sleep for a lot longer but you look better. Your eyes have bags but you don't look like you are about to cry again.

"Mhmm-hmm," you hum across his lips before pressing another kiss down on them, "Your voice is sexier when you've just woken up.” Exhaustion still lingers in every bone in your body, your face still throbbing from the blows it took the night before but you feel safe. His arms still protectively caging you in from any harm and it makes your heart flutter.

He lets out a slightly rusty laugh, sliding his hand up and down your back protectively. "Because I haven't woken up enough to be an asshole yet."

You giggle back before pressing a third kiss to his mouth, still remaining cautious about the situation you're in but not wanting to ignore your need to touch him. "Dave," you quietly moan as you wrap your legs around his waist. 

"What do you need, princess?" Dave rasps out, his eyes opening again and focusing on you.

"You."

His cock twitches and his fingers dig into your hips. "How do you need me?" He growls out.

"However you want," you croak as he pushes the head of his already hard cock through your folds, "Just need to feel you."

You are sprawled on top of him and he shifts his hips, starting to fill you up as he pulls you down onto his cock. "This what you need? You need to sit on my cock?"

"Fuck, yes," you moan as you sink down onto him. He feels even bigger than last time from his angle, "I want to ride you, Mr. York." 

There's a moment where he watches you close your eyes and smirk. He slaps your thigh and pushes you down harder onto his cock. "Then ride me, Princess. Show me how needy you are for my cock."

"Yes, sir," you tease as you start to rock your hips. He's a lot more vocal in the morning and it makes you keen down around him. You find your rhythm after a few moments and slowly increase your pace, bouncing up and down on his cock as his fingertips dig into your hips, hard enough to leave little circular bruises.

"Good girl." He grunts, his hips starting to shift up to meet your pace. Making you bounce harder on his cock and enjoying the way that you clench around him.

  You grind down on him slowly after his praise, his words making your neglected clit pulse with need. You pull him into a fleeting but bruising kiss before you increase your pace again, dragging one of his hands up to one of your tits. "I want you to fill me up," you whisper as your hand grips the bottom of his chin, "Fill me up and then eat your cum out of my cunt, Dave."

He groans, grabbing your tits harshly and rocking his hips to flip you over. Losing control at the neediness in your tone. He leans in and bites down on your shoulder. "Hold onto the bed." He orders harshly.

You grip onto the bed ready to take what he's about to give you, you clench down around him as his teeth sink into you. "Make this tight little pussy soak that fat cock."

He already knows that your next concerts are going to be canceled. He's not going to allow you to perform until at least a week goes by. So he doesn't hesitate to bite you again a few inches over. Giving you a hard thrust of his hips as he slides back so he can put your legs on his shoulders.

"Marking me up?" You giggle before a particularly hard thrust knocks the wind out of you. His cock slamming against that spot inside of you that only he had managed to find and the room is echoing with a lust filled scream of his name. The position your in allowing him to fuck you even deeper than before and he continues to rut into you.

He doesn't give a fuck who hears, although there's no one in the fucking house. He would have gotten an alert on his phone. He knows it won't stay that way for long so he makes sure that his hips snap forward with a determination to make you shatter for him, watching you closely every time he rocks forward.

With every sharp snap of his hips you're being pushed closer and closer to that delicious edge and you know he can feel just how close you are. Your pussy flutters around his throbbing cock, sucking him back in every time he moves back. "Gonna cum," you garble incoherently as you start to fall apart beneath him.

Instead of slowing down, he rocking his hips faster. Hissing and grunting curses as he fucks you frantically. Loving how tight you get and how your legs go tight, just making him lean into you harder.

"Oh, fuck, Dave," you choke out as he fucks you harder and harder throughout your orgasm, ripping it from you with ease as you soak the sheets with your arousal. You clamp down on him hard as your body convulses with pleasure, every little sound that you're desperate to unleash getting trapped in your throat as the whole world goes black. And all you can feel is him.

He sees the moment where everything fades away. Where all you can do is feel nothing but pleasure. Groaning, he pushes deep one last time, reaching up and wrapping his hand around your throat, not to squeeze, instead he tilts your head up to press his mouth to yours as he pours himself into you.

“That may have been the best way I’ve ever woken up in my life,” you say honestly but with a giggle. Nudging your nose against his. “Thank you for staying.”

Dave gives himself another moment, kissing you again before he closes his eyes and starts to pull out of you gently, his fingers let go of your throat and caresses the skin softly as he opens his eyes and looks down at you. “I quit.” He announces, staring at the swelling on your cheek from where Martin had hit you. It’s gone down, but he can still see it. “I didn’t do my job, I didn’t protect you.” He shifts off of you and onto his back.

“Oh,” you utter, feeling the happiness that you’d been floating on fleeing your body and being replaced with hurt, “No. You can’t fucking… no. What is this? You regret this again? Just like you did last time? No. I won’t touch you again but you can’t quit.” You feel your eyes burn as tears spring into them, threatening to stain your already bruised cheeks. “I don’t want to feel unsafe.”

“I can’t do my job.” Dave hisses, hating the fact that he is making you cry. You have to see that he’s doing this for you. Sitting up, he cups your cheek, hating how it’s still swollen. “I did this. It’s because I had to have some clarity. To stop things with Miranda. I wasn’t with you. I should have been. But I wasn’t. Because I couldn’t keep sleeping with her when I wanted you.” He growls angrily.

“Bullshit,” you snarl back, pushing his hand from your face. “You want me? So the solution to that is to just leave me? Make it make fucking sense, Dave.”

“I-“ Dave’s breath shudders. “I was afraid.” He confesses softly. “Afraid I couldn’t get to you, afraid he would hurt you.” He closes his eyes. “I failed you, princess. Why would you want me here? You got hurt and it’s all my fault.”

  “Can you stop pretending like I’m not a grown woman?” You say with a scoff, “I made the decision to go out last night. Am I pissed that you didn’t warn me about him? Yes. I’m fucking furious. But you didn’t fail me. But if you walk out on me right now, you will fail me, Dave.”

“You would have frozen.” Dave argues. “Every fan that comes up, you would wonder if that’s him. Every time the doorbell rang. You would have become a wreck. It’s my job to protect you from that. To let you do your job and keep the monsters in the shadows.”

“And now you don’t want to do that job?”

“Why would you want me to keep doing the job I failed at?” Dave frowns, shaking his head. “You should scream at me, kick me out, tell me you hate me.”

“You didnt fail, Dave,” you scream back at him, “If you want to go, just fucking go, just don’t pretend it’s because of the job.”

Dave hisses, grabbing your arms and the only way he stops himself from yelling at you is by doing what he really wants to do. Kiss you. He kisses you roughly, every fucking fear and emotion he had last night pours into the kiss. Hard and unyielding until it isn’t. Until the softness breaks through and the other emotions show.

You attempt to fight him off for a few moments, your efforts futile and not convincing to either of you. Before giving in and sinking into his arms, letting his kiss consume you both emotionally and physically. “Please don’t go.” You whisper as he rests his forehead against yours.

“I’m not.” Dave admits, shaken by the depths of his feelings for you. “I’m not going anywhere.” He looks into your eyes and sighs. “I could never leave you, princess. Never.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” you murmur against his chest, terrified that he’s a flight risk. “Just please don’t push me away.”

“Princess, I love you.” He murmurs quietly. “I killed a man for touching you. I’m not going anywhere.”

Your eyes search his for any sort of sign that he’s not telling the truth, but the way they soften as the way he holds you tells you that he’s being honest. Your mouth crashes against his as his grip around you tightens, your kiss is possessive and messy and filled with hope. 

“I want to release a statement, tell the world what happened and then I want to take a much needed break. No touring right now.” Obviously some details will be left out but you want a brief statement out there. Something that’ll explain to your fans what happened, but keep the darkest side of how it ended hidden.

“Then that’s what you’ll do, princess.” Dave nods, knowing your label and your father will be furious, but he doesn’t give a shit. Your safety and well being is too important.

“Thank you for always being on my side. Even when you’re being an asshole.” You mumble into his neck.

He snorts and rubs your back gently, turning his head and kissing your hair. “I’ll always be on your side, Princess.” He promises softly. “That’s why I’m your bodyguard.”

**

Eventually, you had to get up and dress. Your entire team was going to descend on your house in a fury of questions and concerns. He had held them off for as long as he could but barely an hour after you had put on a pair of leggings and a sweater and Dave had put on his gym clothes, your father walked into the house, calling your name. “She’s in the kitchen!” Dave has you seated at the bar, drinking a coffee while he makes you breakfast.

“Hi,” you offer meekly to your father, whose face is twisted with fury. There is no concern for your well-being, no checking that you’re okay or asking about the night before. He just screams at you. Furious that you’d already posted a video on your social media account and gave as much detail as you could in regards to the night before and offered full refunds to everyone who had bought a ticket to the tour you had now indefinitely postponed. 

“What do you have to say about all of this?” He bellows at Dave after finishing his expletive filled rant and Dave just shrugs and makes a comment about it being your life before squeezing your shoulder gently.

After many failed attempts to placate him and explain what had happened the night before you simply shrug, and tell him to leave.

Dave is the one that herds him out the door, not even listening to the man as he screams that he hired Dave and he will sue him for breach of contract. He obviously didn’t read the contract, he can’t. Only you could fire him. When the door is closed, Dave shakes his head and turns around the walk back over to you, giving you what looks like a much needed hug. “It’s okay.” He promises again. “He can’t make you tour.”

“I know,” you murmur against his chest, relishing in the feeling of his arms wrapped around you. “Dave, he’s in control of all my finances. I need to figure so much out today.”

“So call in your business people.” Dave murmurs into your hair. “I can call in a lawyer I know. Have him look over everything.”

“I don’t know who to call,” you admit, feeling yourself get all heated from embarrassment, “I just got called into sign shit.”

Dave has participated in this, feeling guilty about it now. “He will treat you right. Get it all figured out.” He promises.

You take a step back from him and awkwardly giggle, “Guess you were right about me being a princess,” you try to joke to hide your embarrassment.

“You were concentrating on your music.” Dave argues. “Letting others take care of the details. I did it too.” He won’t deny that. “Now, you just need to decide how hands on you want to be.”

“Yeah,” you half heartedly agree with a shrug, “But mostly it just seemed easier to let other people deal with it.”

“So you still let other people deal with it.” Dave tells you. “Just have them answer to you.”

“Like you do?” You say with a raised eyebrow and a little smirk, “Clearly, I’m great at keeping you in line.”

Snorting, Dave shoots you an unamused look. “Just try it, Princess.” He warns darkly. “I’ll do exactly what I wanted to do the first time you pitched a fit.” He pauses for a second. “Throw you over my knee and spank you until you are crying.”

“Oh yeah?” You challenge him. “I think you’d do whatever I told you to do. No argument.”

“Not if it compromises your safety.” Dave will stand firm on that. Loving you will not make him just give in to you to make you happy.

You take a step forward and whisper in his ear, “So you’re telling me that if I said really nicely that you’re to wrap those thick fingers around my throat and rail me as hard as you can… you wouldn’t? Because you’re all for safety?”

“Shut up.” Dave hisses, narrowing his eyes at you as he pulls back. “You know what I meant, princess.” He growls. “Keep it up and won’t get my cock at all until I decide you can have it.”

“We both know that I’ll be getting it exactly when I want it, sweet boy.” You know you should be focusing on your never ending list of chores but teasing Dave is too much fun.

Dave doesn’t answer, instead he draws his hand back and slaps your ass harshly. “Go eat.” He demands. “I’ll start making calls.”

“Fine,” you mumble, knowing that he’ll want to get the ball rolling and that the ache in your pussy will have to wait. “I’ll eat and then deal with myself after.” You shout back to him as he makes his way to his office.

“No you won’t!” Dave shouts back, smirking to himself as he shakes his head. You are going to continue to be a pain in his ass, but he’s not quite as annoyed by it now.

You giggle as you take a bite of the eggs he cooked you. “Oh yes, I will,” you say to yourself as you think about the way his cock feels as it drags across heaven inside of you.

**

It had been a rough three weeks. Your father had dug his heels in and made everything as difficult as he possibly could. But Dave had kept his word, the lawyer he had put you in touch with had worked tirelessly and for the first time in your life, you were in charge of your future.

Your team had agreed that you were due a break, and agreed to let you take a few months to recharge. The minute it was final Dave had pulled out his phone and booked two one way tickets to St Lucia and found a private villa on the beach that had a chef come in three times a day to prepare your meals. He paid for everything, packed both of your bags and kept everything a total secret until you were pulling up to the private jet that would be flying you to paradise.

For the past three days that had been in heaven and he’d taken you more times than you could possibly count.

The first time on the flight with his fingers, then his mouth and finally with his cock.

“See Princess? Relaxed.” He groans, slowly rocking his hips up as you grind down on his length. Sitting outside in the warm sun, the breeze trailing over your skin, you look like a fucking goddess riding him on the surprisingly sturdy lounger by the infinity pool that overlooks the ocean. No boats were allowed in this private cove and you had free reign to do whatever you want. “Just like I promised you.”

“So relaxed,” you moan as you keep the pace slow. Loving the way he completely fills you up. Your walls hugging his cock as his thumb draws slow circles on your clit. “God, you feel so fucking good.”

He chuckles, hearing those words every time he fucks you. You’ve become addicted to him being inside you and he’s not complaining. Dave’s other hand comes up and squeezes your tit. “Even more relaxed when you cum.” He coos. “Lay out in the sun and nap after?”

“Oh God, yes,” you say as you press a kiss to his lips. “As long as I get to lay on you.” You slightly increase your speed, wanting your high to come quicker. Needing to feel the warmth of his cum coating your walls.

“You’re like a leech.” He jokes, squeezing your breast again and pinching your nipple. He knows as soon as you cum, you’re going to collapse against his chest and fall asleep with his cock still inside you. It’s become your favorite way to sleep since that second night he had spent in your bed. 

“And you love it,” you say with a giggle, knowing that he loves the way it feels when you giggle on his cock. “Make me cum, Mr York.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Dave grunts as he leans in and nips your bottom lip. “Have to follow the princess’s order.” He lets go of your breast to grab your hip and braces his feet on the lounger slats to thrust up into you harder.

“Yes you do,” you giggle back. Your mouth captures his as he fucks up into you. You bite down on his bottom lip before licking your way into his mouth. He swallows every moan you unleash as you wrap your arms around him tighter, “I’m gonna cum,” you garble as he starts to lose restraint fucking you harder and harder as you come undone on his cock.

Watching you peak has become his favorite view. Watching your mouth open and your entire body spasm in pleasure while you cry out is what sends him over the edge himself. Letting you burrow your way deeper into his heart as he cums, filling you up with his cum until it’s pushing out with every shallow thrust to slide back down his shaft and pool in the curly hairs in his groin.

His lips press against yours as you come down from your high, and his hand rubs comforting circles into your back. The world comes back into focus and absolutely everything becomes clear, his dark eyes find yours before you rest your forehead against his. “I love you, Dave. I love you so much.”

It’s the first time you’ve said those words to him and he sighs softly, reaching up and cupping your cheek. “I love you too, Princess.” It’s only the second time he’s said the words, but he’s shown you how he feels everyday since that morning. “That’s why I’ll always protect you.”

“My protector,” you say against his lips. “Now, I think you promised me a nap.” You nuzzle your face against his neck and snuggle up to him. His softening cock still inside of you as you feel his protective arms wrap around you.

"That's right, princess." Dave rubs your back gently and leans back against the lounger as he brings you with him. Knowing that you will be asleep in minutes. "You sleep." He urges you softly. "I'll make sure nothing ever happens to you again." He promises, looking around even though he knows the two of you are completely alone. He's still your bodyguard after all.

[ask-nyc-boroughs]

“….It is not fit that such great warriers should fight anymore, but that they should remain like women who were not warriers…. treaty is held sacred all this time and they say it will until the party that put the coat onto them shall take it off, or break the treaty.” - Thayendanegea to Holmes 1801 regarding the Haudenosaunee-Lenape Peace of 1669.

This is just a quick little drawing of “Sara”/Min-asin-ink/ Munsee Lenape & her sister Wënami/ Unami Lenape around the time of this peace treaty.

Indigenous histories is something I’m trying to understand more as its own separate history of US & Canadian canon. And as my main focus has always been New York City, and given that “Sara” is Lynn/NYC’s biological mother, I was curious as to what happens to her following the theft of her lands with the founding of New Netherlands. Lynn is also a lot like her mother. Sara is a bit of busy body, a bit nosy, but very charming and she has a way with words- historically allows her to make good deals and treaties what have you. Lynn is also like this except Lynn is probably the poster child of girlboss capitalism 😔 Lynn is like monopoly woman. Also “Sara”’s sister Wënami is Luke/Philadelphia’s mom.

The tl:dr on Lynn’s relationship to her mother is: it’s rocky. I think they both love each other. But Lynn has spent much of her time as a settler personification and has adopted very different values than her mother’s values. So sometimes they, but more so Lynn, get on each other’s bad side. Also both are quite stubborn

I plan on expanding further and making proper designs and lore for other nations, but my main focus is settler-colonial history. I want to eventually discuss the events of Tecumseh’s War against the United States because it’s a pivotal moment in settler and indigenous histories but we never fully discuss the Indigenous sides of it. So I’m trying to learn more about each nation outside of their relationship to settler-colonial powers hence why I also focused on the great peace of 1669.

Info dump below the cut

Also I want to quickly note that the Lenape were made of several different groups prior to colonization, and could be broken culturally into Munsee and Unami, but this changes with colonization. I assume “Sara” & her sister are the youngest the Lenape personifications given that they represent the broader groups.

Historically, it was like highkey the Haudenosaunee Confederacy versus everyone and their mother. But in 1669 the Lenape along with the Mohicans brokered a peace deal with the Haudenosaunee. This treaty in effect by calling the lenape women gave them a nation status of being peace makers and also gave them neutrality within international conflict.

This status explains a lot about how “Sara” and her sister were able to survive but also why they later align themselves with the Haudenosaunee, or the Cherokee or why they were involved in Tecumseh’s war.

[lindszeppelin]

DIRTY DEEDS [pt. 1]

Pairing: Austin Butler x Fem!Reader

Prompt: 1970s New York. Austin is tightly wound in the Italian Mafia. Living a life of crime has it's drawbacks. Austin and his wife figure out whether enjoying the perks of being the hottest couple in the big apple with high roller power is worth their lives.

Rating: Mature. 18+.

Word Count: 13.5k

Warnings: Violence, physical assault, blood, smut, oral (m. receiving), fingering (f. receiving), swearing, some 70s slang/verbiage, drinking, corruption

The streets of New York City are dangerous to navigate for the uninitiated. It's not enough to be savvy with book smarts - that will only get you so far in life. Try walking down 5th Avenue at night. Even if you're the smartest person in the world who thinks they know everything, you're a damn fool. Best case scenario is you're gonna get mugged within an inch of your life, and the robbers will leave you a bloody pulp on the sidewalk like yesterday's trash. One has to be wise to the dealings of the streets. It's a dog eat dog world, and only the toughest, thick-skinned individuals can survive the Big Apple unphased.

For Austin Butler, a life of brazen crime was not one that he envisioned for himself. It seemed like he was thrust into quick sand, and before he knew which way was up it was too late. Austin was no regular Joe-Schmoe however. He was well aware of the goings on around New York City. As an actor who's climbing the social ladder and intertwining himself into the higher echelons of society, he's learned a thing or two about keeping your mouth shut and never fucking with the wrong people.

But Austin is one of the lucky ones. At least to any outsider. He came from a good, loving family who supported his dreams. While money didn't grow on trees, he was well off than most people. His parents raised him on the value of a dollar and treating others with respect. Plus, he knew what it was like to go hungry. Ever the gentle soul, he was drawn to helping the less fortunate. And New York City's growing homeless population was the perfect breeding ground for those with dastardly schemes to sink their teeth into the ripe flesh and feed.

It's no secret that the Italian community is thriving and strong, becoming the backbone of the state's culture. You can't walk down the street without seeing about three Italian restaurants, a deli serving the freshest meats, and a pizzeria selling hot pies like it's going out of style. But before New York City became rife with bigshots with bloated pockets full of hundred dollar bills wrapped in rubberbands, poor immigrant families of times yonder sailed the seas to Ellis Island. Brooklyn became a home away from home for these wandering souls. Little Italy was just a small slice of the Bronx, but everybody knew everyone's business.

One of these immigrant families ruled the city with an iron fist, and they have been for generations. The thoroughbred Sicilians named the Tenaglia's reigned supreme, offering those in need of assistance with whatever they asked for. But of course, it always came with a price. The poorest of neighbors to the high ranking officials of the city like the police were in the back pockets of the Tenaglia's. You name it - lawyers, bankers, real estate brokers, doctors and others were on bended knee to the Tenaglia's - especially to the Godfather, Don Antonio Tenaglia. And nobody batted an eyelash. It's a funny thing what money can do to a person's morale.

Austin's acting career led him to the Big Apple mostly for gigs and also for charity work on the side. It was here that he met someone that would alter the course of his life. Pellegrino Tenaglia was the youngest son of Antonio, and often considered the best looking Tenaglia - his long dark locks are always tucked nicely behind his ears, and his dark hazel eyes shine gorgeously off his olive oil tanned skin. If he wasn't knee deep in his father's business he would probably make it big as a model or movie star. Antonio made sure all his sons latched onto some kind of career where they could have a foothold in all different areas of the city. Pellegrino is a nice boy and dutifully respects his father. So he took up looking after some of the charities in the poor neighborhoods. While it's not the life that Pellegrino wanted for himself, who was he to go against the wishes of his iron fisted family? As the baby of the bunch he knew it was almost impossible for him to get a word in edgewise before he gets overshadowed by his older brothers who think they know better. He figured that while he was put into this situation, he might as well try to do some actual good for the community he was born and raised in. This was where his path with Austin would collide.

While it might seem like an unlikely match, Austin and Pellegrino bonded naturally over their love of helping the less fortunate. They were also close in age with Austin being a year older than him at 31. They struck up a friendship rather quickly, and pretty soon the laidback Tenaglia son showed Austin around to some local spots. While Pellegrino is a party animal, he likes to schmooze and have a good time. He can make quick friends with strangers in only minutes with a flash of his crooked smile and effortless charm.

Nightlife in the city was unmatched. Studio 54 was the hottest dance club to ever grace the nation - anyone who's anyone goes there to rock to the pumping music and get their picture taken for publicity. Austin was a shy man, so he doesn't get out to dance that much. But spending time with Pellegrino, who goes by Green, allowed the genteel blonde to open up more.

"You gotta get out and embrace life a little, man. I know you don't wanna be cooped up in a soup kitchen all damn day. Lemme show you the ropes." Green would say cheerily, his thick Bronx accent rolling off his tongue.

One of these particular evenings, the line at Studio 54 was reaching far around a couple of blocks. While Green could probably sweet talk the bouncers with a knowing wink and the utterance of his last name, he got the better idea to take Austin to a hole in the wall club that most people don't know about. "It's fucking awesome in here. You're gonna love it." Green would say, pushing Austin along with a firm but friendly hand on his back. Austin on the other hand is sweating bullets.

One last turn of a corner and there they were, at their destination. Green held the door of the club open for Austin and the tall man walked in with his tail tucked between his legs. If you didn't know it, one could assume Austin was on his way to get a stern lecturing from his boss based on how badly he was shaking. He was out of his element completely. But he didn't have time to convince Green to turn around and walk home. Before Austin knew it, he was already thrust to the club's bar and forced down onto an open barstool with a slap on the back from his friend. The bartender nodded to the gentleman and expectantly waited for their orders.

Green spoke up first with his voice, smooth as butter. "A beer for me, please. And what do you want, Butler?" He asked.

Austin cleared his throat and tired his best to adjust quickly to the change in surroundings. "Uh, i'll have a whiskey on the rocks." Austin spoke to the bartender politely. The sharp dressed man in a polyester suit behind the bar went to work on fixing up the men's drinks.

The loud music blaring and the chatty cathy's coming in and out of the club passing by Austin was overwhelming to his senses. He could feel his wallflower demeanor start to creep up on him. He hoped he could curb the anxiety by placing a Marlboro cigarette between his plush lips and flicking his zippo lighter he pulled from his pants pocket, inhaling the cloud of smoke deeply into his lungs before exhaling through his nose.

Green seemed to notice his friend's reservations and leaned his elbow on the counter, facing Austin with his muscular build. "Hey man, no stress. You know I wouldn't take you to a place that wasn't happenin'. Once you get some of that whiskey down your neck I'm sure your feet will lead you to the dance floor." He said, projecting his voice loud enough over the music so Austin could hear.

The shy man put the cigarette between his lips as he ran a hand through his long golden tresses. "We'll see where the night takes us I suppose." He muffled. Two long fingers grasped the cigarette as he took another drag and blew the smoke out the side of his mouth, away from his friend.

This satisfied Green who plastered a wide grin across his face, and patted Austin on the shoulder. Austin was used to getting physically manhandled by Green, it was just how he showed his affection. "Cool, man. That's what I like to hear. Keep an open mind."

Clubs were not a place that Austin frequented very much, if at all. He was the kind of man to enjoy staying home or going out to a nice restaurant. He wouldn't even consider himself a dancer. To think about going out on the dancefloor and moving his feet to the beat of the music has his palms clammy and his stomach doing nauseating flips.

The bartender slid down a freshly cracked Heineken for Green, who thanked the man behind the counter with a nod before wrapping his lips around the bottle and guzzling down the frothy liquid.

Slowly but surely the music started to dwindle down and a sleazy voice slurred over the club's speakers. "Alright ladies and gents, this one goes out to two very foxy mamas out there on the dance floor. You know who you are. Take it away." Said the DJ, a little too close to the microphone. The curly haired mustachioed man behind the booth replaced the vinyl with a fresh one on the turntable, and turned the volume all the way up to eleven.

The sweet melodic strings of Bee Gees "More Than a Woman" rolls on through the club and hit's Austin's ears. Instinctively he rolls his eyes. He's heard the song all over the radio and frankly he despises the tune for how overplayed it is. But tonight will give him a reason to turn his opinion around, he just doesn't know it yet. The party goers all rushed to the dance floor and grabbed a partner. Anyone who had any sense at all would be swaying back and forth to the music, but Austin and Green were onlookers as they observed from their barstools on the second floor of the club.

Austin kept taking drags from his cigarette, watching the way that the beautifully dressed women were spinning around their partners. While he wasn't one to think he had a chance at dancing, he did yearn for a special someone to hold close to him and put the rhythm in his body. While he looked on with a good poker face, on the inside his heart swelled for the chance to take his forever lady on the floor. Maybe one day.

Completely oblivious to the two men, the bartender placed Austin's whiskey on the counter with his own coaster. When Austin heard the glass clink down on the counter top he spun back around and gingerly sipped away at the musky amber liquid. He tapped the excess ashes of his cigarette in a nearby ashtray, taking his eyes off the dancefloor to shyly study the mound of ice in his glass, letting his melancholia posses his thoughts.

Green however was not one to wither away into his drink. He kept his focus entirely on the crowd of dancers, admiring the smooth moves from some of the couples. His foot was tapping on the floor and his head was bobbing along in time to the swing beat. This was his sanctuary away from his family, and he found comfort in the multi-colored lights and sparkling discoball that shined like a beacon touching down from Heaven.

As he scoped out the crowd his eyes narrowed in on two particular women in the center of the floor, dancing together. His deep set eyes widened at the realization. "Holy shit. Unbelievable." He gawked.

"Hmm?" Austin mumbled, quirking his brow at Green.

"My wife is down there. I was wondering where this chick was at all day. Should have known I'd find her on some dancefloor." Green laughed. He took another swig of his beer, his eye never leaving the vision of his wife working wonders on the floor. Tiffany was also a party animal like Green. The two go together like bread and butter. If she wasn't out shopping or at home making the house all perfect for her husband when he gets home, she's out strutting her stuff under a discoball.

"No kidding," Austin chuckled. "She's a dancer?" He asked, bringing his cigarette back to his lips.

Green smirked knowingly. "Only the best dancer in the whole tri-state area as far as i'm concerned." Green leaned back against the bar counter and admired his wife twirling around on the lower level.

Austin blew his smoke out his nose and spun around on his barstool to face the crowded floor once more. "Which one is she?" He asked, trying to scope out the terrain.

Green gestured to the dance floor with the nose of his beer bottle. "You see the one in the middle of the floor with the red hair? Green dress? That's my Tiffany." He smiled proudly, his heart swelling at the thought that the beautiful woman out there dancing to her heart's content was his wife.

Austin squinted his eyes, finally landing on the firey redhead, who stood out among the crowd of blondes and brunettes alike. He nodded absentmindedly to himself that but of course the handsome Tenaglia son would bag a beautiful girl. He caught a glimpse of her satin green dress twirling around her as she spun hand in hand with her dance partner. Tiffany was never alone on the dance floor, her best friend would always accompany her. And tonight was as per usual.

As the men watched Tiffany dance, they could finally see the woman she was dancing with. At first all that they could make out was a mass of fluffy, perfectly bouncy blown out curls. When the woman finally spun around, her visage no longer a mystery, Austin's jaw nearly hit the floor. The mystery woman looked like she had stepped out of a fairytale. Her curves were supple and accented gorgeously with white bellbottom pants and a cropped long sleeve top that was tied at the small of her waist, accenting her cleavage. Did Cupid just come down and strike Austin's heart with an arrow? Because in all his life he swears he's never seen a more sexy creature. He leaned forward on his barstool, trying to get a better look at the woman who set his heart asunder. At any moment he was sure he'd have a heart attack. "Who's that dancing with your wife?" Austin asked perhaps a little too nervously, but he tried to play it off.

Green rose to his feet to get a better view from up above. "Oh that's Y/N. She's like a sister to Tiff. Known her for years. She's a nice girl." Green placed his hands on his hips and turned back on his boot heels to face Austin. Almost immediately he could tell that Austin was somewhere on another planet. He had faraway eyes, and all he heard Pellegrino say was her name. It played on a loop in the blonde's mind, thinking it was the most beautiful string of syllables he's ever heard. He so lost in his own thoughts that he barely noticed his cigarette was burning so fast that it was mostly all ash crumbling in his hands and threatening to make a mess of his nice slacks.

Green smirked at his friend, and raised a quizzical brow. "You want me to introduce you?" He asked, knowing the answer would most likely be yes.

Austin's mouth went dry at the thought. She looked like an angel as she smiled wide, giggling with Tiffany as the women danced around each other. The way her body swayed to the beat of the music sent blood rushing straight to Austin's manhood. He needed to know her. He had to talk to her. But like this? Austin felt like a school boy with a crush on the prettiest girl in the class. He rubbed the sweat from his palms onto his thighs and tried his best to quell the blood rushing straight for his cock. Not that it had been a long time since Austin was with a woman. But there was something about this femme fatal that captured his unique interest. She beguiled him from across the room. For all she knew, she didn't even know of his existence. Not yet anyway.

"Do you think she'd go for me? Honestly." Austin asked Green anxiously.

The charming brunette walked up to Austin and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder, shaking him a little to jostle those nagging thoughts out of his mind. "Listen here. You're a single, well-to-do good looking man. She's my wife's best friend, an exceptional dancer, and she's also single. I know she hasn't gone steady with a guy for a long time. She's not a sleaze, she's got brains and a heart. So in my opinion I think you two would hit it off. But we don't know that for sure unless you make a move." Green said confidently. He was right. How could you really know unless you just plunge headfirst into the deep end. Tonight, Austin would be putting his faith in the universe and himself to the test.

Austin placed the barely there cigarette between his lips and inhaled deeply. He nodded as he let the smoke exhale from his nostrils. Austin was accepting his fate. He knew he would either let the anxiety he was feeling ruin his night and have him leaving the club, crawling under the covers never to see the light of day again. Or, he would probably embarrass himself when sweet talking his dreamgirl. Either option is far from acceptable. But, he had to make the effort and try. Otherwise some other guy would scoop her up before he has the chance. This was it. It was now or never.

"Fuck it. You're right." Austin said, self assured in his final decision.

Green took hold of the glass of whiskey Austin was nursing and forced it into the blonde's hands. "Drink up brother, I can tell you haven't done this shit in a while." He laughed.

Austin smiled nervously, a breathy chuckle fogging up the glass. "Is it that obvious?" He asked. Austin took a generous helping. The amber liquid pooled into his mouth and coated his tongue, letting the fragrant musk linger on his palette before swallowing it down in one gulp.

"Unfortunately yes, but I think we can remedy that. Just follow my lead and you'll be good as gold. Capisce?" Green slapped Austin on the back before nudging him off the barstool and up on his feet.

As the Italian man took Austin by the collar of his shirt he felt like the room was spinning. He pushed Austin down the flight of stairs that led from the second floor down below to the open dance floor. Every which way drunk patrons were fumbling around the tall blonde. The flashing colored lights disoriented him as he kept his eagled eyes strictly on his earth angel. His heart was about to leap out of his chest.

As the romantic Bee Gees song came to a fadeout, Tiffany and her friend slowed their movements and paused to catch their breaths. Out of the corner of her brown eyes, Tiffany spotted Pellegrino. The expression on her cherub face was one of surprise and pure delight.

Green's arms fell open to his sides and he beamed out a pearly white smile. "Well well, look at what we have here! My beautiful wife is dancing without me." He spoke playfully.

The cute redhead scrunched her button nose and scurried over to her husband. Tiffany's porcelain complexion balanced out with her eye-catching locks, which she paired with a matching red lipstick. Her satin dress was a divine shade of sage, complimenting her perfectly. She cutely tip toed on the balls of her heeled feet and flung her arms around Pellegrino.

"Fancy seeing you here, handsome!" Said Tiffany excitedly. She had the voice of a princess, and her sunny personality was definitely infectious. She could light up a room. No wonder why Pellegrino married her. The lovebirds hugged each other in a warm embrace for what seemed like eternity. And while Green and Tiffany were wrapped up in each other, Austin couldn't hide the obvious fact of his staring at the gorgeous creature standing beside the redhead.

A shy, nervous smile crept up on the corners of his voluptuous lips at the woman standing by Tiffany's side. Now that she was close enough to him, Austin could make out more of her features up close. She was even more beautiful than he had realized, which strikes him dumb and unable to function. The woman smiled back at Austin as she tucked a piece of her hair behind her ears. To his surprise, she looked like she was captivated by him as well. He noticed that she gave him a quick once over, eyeing his tall and built frame accented gorgeously in Austin's suit- and she definitely liked what she saw.

Tiffany pulled away from Green and gave him a quick peck on the lips, wiping off the red lipstick residue from her husband's mouth. Green sheepishly smiled and turned his attention back to Austin. "Babydoll, there's someone I want you to meet. This is my friend Austin Butler. Austin, this is my better half."

Austin snapped out of his daydream and turned his attention to his friend. He nodded and graciously shook her hand. "Tiffany, it's a pleasure to meet you."

She giggled, her friendly eyes shimmering as she stood tall and proud. "Nice to meet you too Austin."

Green placed one of his hands around Austin's shoulder, and the other one gestured out to Y/N. "And this is Y/N. She keeps my Tiffany on her toes, literally." He laughed.

Austin closed the distance with one stride of his long legs, and he held out a trembling hand to the beautiful lady. "Hi. It's most certainly a pleasure to meet you, Y/N." He cooed.

Her cheeks flushed a rosy hue, blushing at how kind and downright handsome the blonde was. She extended one of her hands, and the minute she made contact with Austin he felt a bolt of lightening rock him to the core. To hold onto just this tiny piece of her was intensely electrifying. He couldn't help but gasp faintly as he looked into her gorgeous eyes. She was sucking him right into her sphere.

Finally, he heard his angel speak. "It's wonderful to meet you too, Austin."

And as the saying goes, the rest is history. To say that Austin was smitten about you was an understatement. He always struggled in past relationships, trying to find the girl of his fantasies that he could settle down with. Because of his celebrity status he either had girls that just wanted to fuck him and run to the press about it, or girls that only saw dollar signs.

But you were different. You saw through to who Austin was at a soul level, and you loved him as if he was just any run of the mill person. To you, he is your guiding light. And you intend to keep him happy for the rest of your life. You and Austin spent every waking moment together. Soon enough you were spending holidays with his family and getting ingrained with the Tenaglia's, who had in a way adopted Austin as their unofficial son and brother. To have their approval meant the world to you, and to him as well. Finally, he had found the missing piece to his puzzle. He felt whole and complete with his woman by his side - his dance partner for all eternity.

The tabloids had a field day when it was announced that the handsome bachelor was engaged to be married. Pictures of you and him were smattered across every newspaper on the east coast. Eventually, he permanently moved from California to settle down with you in New York. This transition worked out well in favor of the Tenaglia's who liked to keep their friend close by to them.

Pellegrino was chosen as best man, and Tiffany was the maid of honor. Anyone who was anyone was invited to the "wedding of the decade", according to the New York Times.

The dance circuit was still as popping as ever, and after a little while of settling into married life and figuring out finances, you and Austin merge as business partners to create Tease - the hottest club to rival that of Studio 54. Every Saturday there would be a dance competition called Boogie Nights where all the best dancers would compete for first place bragging rights, a trophy, and a bit of a cash prize. It was good incentive for people to keep stopping by the club and spending their hard earned money at Tease.

The place actually started to be self sustainable after only a month or two. Green naturally drew more people into the club, and he used a lot of his connections in the mob to bring his friends down there and spread the word. it wasn't long before Tease was the most popular club in New York. The likes of celebrities, musicians, actors and more were spotted at your club - and it only increased your profits. Most of the money made at Tease was split between you and Austin, and the Tenaglia's also got a small cut for helping to promote the club by word of mouth and a little persuasion.

It's not exactly what you envisioned when opening a club with your husband, to have his mafia compadres be latched onto it, but you learned real quick that to appease the Tenaglia's you had to play by their rules and keep your mouth shut. So that's what you did. Plus you trusted Austin's opinion on the family. They took him in and treated him like a son. So, what harm could it do to have them be a part of Tease?

It's not like you were crawling on your hands and knees for the Tenaglia's to help out with business. Afterall, you and Austin are the hottest couple in New York. While you were once an unknown random woman to the general public who was marrying a high profile celebrity, now you were one yourself. All the women took inspiration from how you wore you hair and makeup on the dancefloor, and they definitely copied your fashion. You were becoming somewhat of a local celebrity. And with Austin by your side, you felt like you could do anything. You were on top of the world.

~~~Present day~~~

Tonight is Boogie Nights down over at Tease. The place is bumping with loud disco music. The club is filled with thick clouds of cigarette smoke, and the clinking glasses of alcohol filled the air. There was barely a seat left unoccupied, it was a packed madhouse. Everyone in the Bronx got all dolled up in their best outfits and hair sprayed high to the heavens for this event. Before the competition starts, you let the patrons have their chance to dance on the floor before the professional competitors tear it up.

You and Austin are like the perfect tag team, keeping the joint going. You're out there on the floor, schmoozing with the guests and selling them on getting a drink at the bar. Meanwhile, Austin is letting in all the high rollers and making sure the friends of the Tenaglia's and other goodfellas are well fed and well drunk. Keeping them happy means keeping everyone happy.

You spot your husband from across the room. You decide to take a break from forging friendships with the crowd and make an appearance by his side. Afterall, you know as well as Austin that when it comes to being linked to the Tenaglia family, you have to show people how powerful you are. Seeing is believing.

Your red dress flows effortlessly around your stocking clad legs, the breeze wafting through your perfectly coiffed curls. You wear your best smile as you near the table at the side of the dancefloor where Austin is working his magic at winning over the men. He looks so sexy in his black button down shirt and grey pinstripe pants that hug the curve of his ass deliciously. A couple of buttons are left undone, on purpose, and the gold cross he's wearing hangs down his chiseled chest and lands in his tufts of blonde chest hairs. He looks scrumptious. You almost can't believe this blonde beauty is yours.

Austin stands over the table, looking authoritative yet friendly as he laughs and greets each man one by one with a firm handshake. You make yourself known by reaching out to touch your husband's back with a soft caress of your hand.

"Hi baby, I see that you've welcomed our guests." You say in your bubbliest voice. "I hope you gentlemen are enjoying your evening." You announce to the entire party. Austin smiles warmly at you, wrapping his arm around your waist and bringing you into his side, showing you off to the men.

The group of Italian men smirk at you, while some of them keep their nose down firmly in their drinks, not giving a damn about niceties and looking to get plastered. The man who you assume to be the ring leader flashes a smile at you, showing off his imperfect teeth. He's probably about 60-something, around the same generation as Don Antonio. He seems to have kind brown eyes. And he has a nice head of salt and pepper hair combed back off his ruddy complexion. A thick Brooklyn accent seeps past his thin lips. "Thank you doll. It's hard to not have a good time when you get treated with the upmost of respect 'round 'ere. Your husband keeps a tight ship I see."

Austin shyly smiles, and you pat his chest lovingly at the praise. "Yes he certainly does. I'm the luckiest woman in the entire world." You say proudly.

As you pass glances around the table, you notice some of the men perk up at you. You brush off the ones the ogle a little too long for your liking, which you thought was inappropriate for the setting and the fact that your husband was standing right next to you. Austin notices this as well. He makes a mental note of which men are looking for trouble so he can keep a close eye on them. Obviously he's aware that you're a beautiful girl, and it's only natural to get a couple of eyes on you. But you're his woman, and these bozos should know their place. Austin leans over and kisses your temple, making a show for certain men at the table. They cock their eyebrows and get the picture, going back to putting their head down and drinking their beverages. That put them off for now, and Austin feels his ego boosting.

"I should be so lucky as to be called her husband. You say I keep a tight ship, sir, but Tease wouldn't be what it is without this little lady right here. She's the reason for it all." Austin cooed, beaming a dazzling grin at you.

The older italian man bowed his head in respect with a smile still plastered on his crooked teeth. "You seem like a good kid, Austin. I speak for everyone here at this table when I say that I wish you and your wife many years of a blissful marriage. It'll be 20 years with my Maria in a couple of weeks, so I understand the bond between a husband and a wife. Not that any of these schmucks would know what it means to bring home the bacon to a doting wife. Ain't that right, boys?" The man said rhetorically, purposefully getting a rise out of the other mobsters at the table. If they wanted to keep their heads, they would nod and laugh along with the joke. Some of them do, and others roll their eyes snidely. Again, Austin took note of who clearly had respect and who didn't.

You perked up, sidestepping over the joke with grace. "Well fellas, please let either me or Austin know if you need anything tonight. More refills on your drinks, a song request. Anything, you name it." You say happily, playing the role of mafia wife to a T.

The older italian man raised his glass. "Greatly appreciated, Miss. Salut." He said. The table all raised in saying cheers before downing their drinks.

Austin bowed gracefully at the entire table, and turned on his heel with you still glued by his side. You could feel Austin's hand grip your waist just a little bit harder as you both walked away.

"You saved me back there. I definitely owe you one later." He said out the side of his mouth, attempting to pass smiles and little nods to the patrons that waved hello to the two of you.

"All in a days work, Mr. Butler." You joked.

Austin chuckled, his laugh reverberating deep within his chest and vibrating off of your body that's tightly pressed into his polyester side. "How's about I get you a drink, baby? Tell me what you want, i'll have Marcus make something special for you." Marcus is the bartender for Tease. He's young, handsome, and charismatic enough to attract everyone and keep them filled with booze. He's not a Tenaglia, but he's aware of the prestige that comes with being part of the family unit. Plus he makes a great cocktail.

Before you were about to say to Austin what you wanted to order, while you're both standing at the bar, a boisterous voice cuts through the music and random chatter of the crowd like glass. You recognize that husky sing-song anywhere. Carmine Tenaglia, also goes by C. He's the oldest son to Antonio. You can always tell when Carmine enters a room because you can hear him before you see him. His voice has taken a bit of a beating, sounding like he smokes about 4 packs a day. He wasn't blessed with conventional good looks like Pellegrino, but he's rough around the edges in a bad boy kind of way that gets the attention from women. His big brown eyes can melt butter, but behind those eyes is a fire that screams "don't fuck with me." He never lets his hair down, he always keeps is slicked back with gel and a side part. And he dresses to the nines. Clearly, he loves the life and everything that comes with it. Out of all the Tenaglia brothers, he enjoys spending money on clothes, cars, and fancy dates - even though he's married. But what his wife doesn't know won't hurt her, according to his logic.

Carmine is imposing, loud, but most of all he commands respect from everyone he meets. As the oldest son, he likes to think he takes charge over his father. And sometimes he will give out orders on behest of the family name before consulting with the other men. You know better than to try and cause problems with him. When he drinks, you never know what Carmine is capable of.

Carmine pushes through the crowd of dancers, and you can now clearly see the Italian man making his way over to you both. He has a nice smile surrounded by his typical 5 o'clock shadow he sports. And of course he's in his Saturday best with a matching black suit adorned with gaudy gold jewelry. "Hey! Look at youse! If I had a nickel for every time I'd see you two attached at the hip i'd be a millionaire." He said, laughing heartily. "Come 'ere, you son of a bitch!" He said, pulling Austin around by the shoulders. Austin laughed and embraced Carmine with a bear hug.

"Hey C, nice to see you." Austin said in the man's ear. After a few seconds of a warm familial hug, Carmine pulls away and looks over Austin, patting him on the shoulders roughly, clearly a Tenaglia family trait of brotherly rough-housing that got passed down.

"Man, you always look like a million bucks. You must go to the same tailor I do. Sanduskies on 34th Street will have you going from rags to riches in a few stitches. Hey, they should use that as their tagline." Carmine chuckled, thinking he's the funniest man since Richard Prior.

Austin blushed and patted Carmine on the back. "I learned from the best." He said, sweetly.

Carmine grabbed Austin by the face with his hands and kissed both his cheeks in typical Italian fashion.

"Oh Marone! Now ain't you a sight for sore eyes." He said, eyeing you once over. "Come give me a hug, you look terrific." Carmine gestured you over with a wave of his hand adorned with rings, his gold chain bracelet rustling along his wrist.

You smiled and hugged Carmine warmly. "Thank you Carmine. Are you here alone?" You asked when you pulled away from the hug - not seeing his latest flavor of the week on his arm.

Carmine shook his head. "Nah, you know me I ain't ever alone. The young buck with little miss fire engine is in tow." He said. The young buck is a nickname he gave to Pellegrino, and little miss fire engine is in reference to Tiffany, if it wasn't obvious enough.

And as if on command, the handsome italian man with his gorgeous redheaded wife make their way over to the three of you.

"Hey, what's going on Austin? Y/N?" Happily said Green. He flashed a warm smile, his olive eyes friendly as he greeted you both with quick hugs.

Carmine laughed. "See, it's a family affair."

"It's nice to see you too, C." Said Tiffany playfully, slapping his arm.

Austin placed one of his hands behind him on the bar countertop. "You guys should get a table before they fill up."

Green raised his brow and threw his arm around Austin's shoulder. "Come join us for a bit, man. It's good to catch up with you." Green narrowed his captivating eyes on you. "Is it okay if we steal him away from you for a little while, Bambi?" He asked. Bambi was the nickname the men gave you, and it's a double meaning. Bambi is short for bambino which means baby in Italian. And Bambi is also in reference to the film because you're as ethereal and beautiful as a doe eyed deer. The nickname coming from Pellegrino pulls at your heartstrings.

"Oh, I suppose I can find a way to live without my marito." You said in a playful longing tone. Marito is one of your many petnames for Austin, and it means husband in italian. Of course, being adopted into an Italian family you learn some choice words.

Austin winked at you and pressed his soft lips to yours in a simple but tender brush of his mouth. "I'll be right back, babygirl." He said in a sultry low tone.

You shivered at his baritone and nodded, chewing on your bottom lip as you drank in the lingering taste of whiskey from the kiss he left behind.

In a flash, the three men waltzed their way to a smokey corner of the club. Tiffany stayed behind with you.

"I'll keep you company, honey. Besides, I wanna dance. Let's boogie." She said perky as ever. And how could you not oblige your best friend? You linked arms with the fair redhead, making your way to the dance floor.

As time passes on, Austin is still lounging at a round table with Carmine and Pellegrino. They nurse their drinks and smoke cigarettes, catching up on their day.

You and Tiffany have barely left the dance floor. With your experience as Club Owner, you've noticed that it helps to bring customers back to Tease when they see you so eager to dance alongside everybody else. And you're not gonna pass up an opportunity to have a good time. The music makes you sway to the funky rhythms. The skirt of your dress twirls around you as you and Tiff join hands in sliding on the dance floor.

You were so caught up in the moment of the dance with your friend that you barely noticed a familiar man making his way to you slyly from the corner of your eye. Out of your peripheral you caught him. One of the oggling Italian men from the table you had greeted earlier was bold enough to slither his way to your side. He paid no attention to Tiffany, making his beeline straight towards you. The man was alone, so you thought perhaps this situation could turn out okay given that the right steps are taken.

You tried your best to not look over at him, hoping he would get the hint and go away. Unfortunately, he wasn't gonna care if you took notice of him or not. He was gonna make himself known regardless.

A gross, creepy smirk plays at his thin lips. You can smell the stench of his cuban cigar and bourbon overwhelm your senses, making your stomach churn.

"Care to dance, bella mia?" He asked, sounding heavily intoxicated. His slurred words fumble out of him, but even in his drunken state he attempts to exert dominance over the situation. His beady eyes scan the curves of your body and you wanna crawl out of your skin at the thought of the nasty things he's probably thinking about you right now.

Tiffany eyes him cautiously and then looks over at you to gauge your reaction. You clear your throat and briefly make eye contact with him. "No thank you. The only man I dance with is my husband." You assert strongly. Hoping that was enough to get the drunk wise guy off your case.

He doesn't take to kindly to that. He cockily raises his thick black brows. "Come on, sugar. We both know that Blondie doesn't satisfy you. You need a man like me to show you what's what." He says, stifling back a hiccup.

"You've got some nerve saying that to me when you know exactly who my husband is." You say, letting go of Tiff's grip and crossing your arms over your chest. The v-neck cut of your dress shows off your round breasts, and unfortunately you regret crossing your arms now because the weirdo makes no attempt to hide the fact he's staring right down your cleavage. You not only feel dirty, but revolted.

The Italian man doesn't back down. In a loud manner he raises his voice and flails his hands around as he talks for emphasis, and he takes a step forward to get closer to you. "I know exactly who your husband is, and frankly I don't give a fuck about them pansy-ass Tenaglia's. People know me 'round these parts. I could snap my fingers and your husband would be an obituary in Sunday's papers. What I want, I get. Now, lemme ask you again. And this time, be smart with your answer. Would you care to dance with me?" He bites back, not leaving any room for interpretation of his words.

He's making such a scene that the dancers around you all are eyeing the both of you with a concerned look on their faces, and some of them stop dancing entirely to watch the scene unfold, not knowing what to do.

"Not a chance in hell, you don't scare me." You retort. While you are visibly shaking, you don't want to give the guy the satisfaction of knowing you are intimidated. He'd be a first class fool to make even more of a scene with half of the Tenaglia crew waiting in the wings. He's so drunk that you don't even take his threats seriously.

The Italian man simply stands there, hands ball up into tight fists. He dryly chuckles, and purses his lips. "Wrong answer, sweetheart."

Sensing trouble afoot and seeing that this guy isn't leaving, Tiffany chimes in and comes to your aid. "Listen here, you take one more step and I'll yank those hair plugs right off your head. My husband is also a Tenaglia and he'll beat the shit out of you." The redhead says with as much sass and fervor as she can muster. She's not one to always get into confrontations, but for you and her family she'll cuss out whoever she needs to.

The man places one of his heeled boots in front of the other, daring to go against Tiffany's warning. "You broads think you're tough shit, huh?" He exclaims, his voice raising an octave with his anger. "Seems like ain't nobody put you bitches in your place. Well, you're about to get a firm lesson with the back of my hand." He says, raising his right hand adorned with chunky gold rings.

Suddenly it's all happening so fast you can barely process what's happening. Tiffany pushes you back and attempts to step into the line of fire, bringing her arms up to deflect the man's hand in time. But you two don't have to worry about a thing. What you didn't know was that the Tenaglia's caught the tail end of the situation. It was hard not to when the man was making such a ruckus on the dancefloor. This idiot dared to show disrespect to Tiffany and to you, which cuts through even deeper because this is your club. Pellegrino and Austin watched on for a minute with furious anger as the man was making idle threats to the family and imposing himself onto their wives. Like hell they were gonna stand there and not do something about it. The men down their drinks and make their dissent, on a one-way mission to teach this guy a lesson.

Carmine, Pellegrino, and Austin march their way over to the dance floor and push through the bewildered crowd of dancers. Austin is fuming, and he looks like he's about to go into a blind rage. He walks with determination, fists wound tightly by his sides. He's seeing red.

"Back away from my wife, you motherfucker." Austin bellowed. He grabbed hold of the man's shoulder and spun him around so he was face to face with the scumbag. Austin's right fist swung hard and fast, connecting into the italian man's face, making him see stars.

Both you and Tiffany stood back, mouths agape and looking on with shock. You can't believe the situation took a turn for the worse. Pellegrino steps to the side and ushers you and Tiff away from the violence on the floor. Meanwhile, Carmine and Austin were ontop of the man as fast as lightening. There's no chance they're letting this guy get away unpunished. They were gonna use him as an example to every other wise guy in the club that if you act like vermin you're gonna get treated as such. Austin landed another devastating punch to his face, and Carmine wrapped his arms around him in a bind to stifle the man from fighting back.

"Get this fucking guy out of here." Austin huffed. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to regain his composure. "Bring him out back." He commanded. Carmine nodded and grabbed the man by the scruff of his neck, heading towards the back exit of the club. Pellegrino was hot on the heels of Carmine, grabbing one of the arms of the beaten man and holding him in a vice grip.

People weren't sure if they should continue dancing or if they should head out early. But the DJ clicked on the intercom, making an announcement to assure people everything was fine and to resume dancing as normal. So the disco music never ceased to play loudly over the speakers, as if nothing had happened. It's a surreal combination to experience the cheery, jazzy beats swelling in your ears coupled with the the intense emotions on the dancefloor.

Before Austin followed Carmine and Pellegrino outside, he shot a quick glance in your direction, checking in on you. His baby blues were stormy with anger. He softened a little bit seeing your face and scared eyes, but he knew this was all in an effort to protect you. So he soldiered on.

The backdoor sprang open, the blinding light from the outside world is a jarring juxtaposition from the dark atmosphere inside the club. Carmine threw the italian man down onto the ground without a care, pushing him outside. He stumbled and spit blood out onto the cobblestones below him.

Pellegrino followed after Carmine, grabbing onto the shirt collar of the man on the ground and forcing him to his feet. "Get the fuck up." He was just as upset this slimy guy disrespected Tiffany, and he was gonna get in a good swing when he could - he'd patiently wait his turn. Right now, Austin was intent on fucking this guy up.

Austin was the last one out, and he slammed the door behind him with a loud thud. Carmine and Green held onto either arm of the scared italian man, pinning him to the brick wall opposite the club. He was no match for the strong Tenaglia's.

Austin, with a sneer on his face, rolled up his shirt sleeves. "You think you're some fucking tough guy. Coming into my club, drinking my liquor, and making a pass on my wife. And after I welcomed you and your buddies so kindly. You must be a real chump." He said haughtily.

The italian man slurred his speech even more, the blood dribbling out of his mouth. He shot daggers into Austin. "I guess Blondie's got balls after all." He said tauntingly, getting in one last petty blow. Carmine and Green looked at each other and then down at the man, amazed that he actually has the gall to talk back in the predicament he finds himself in. Those would be his final words. He was digging himself an early grave.

Austin rolled his head around his neck, the cracks vibrating off of the brick, and he rounded his shoulders back. Not wasting any more precious time, Austin landed punch after punch on the man's face. Blood was flying every which way. His blonde waves unkempt and fell over the slope of his forehead as he brought his fists back and smashed into the scumbag's face - it was crumpling beneath his hand like an overly ripe tomato. The man wailed as he had to stand there and take the blows. Meanwhile, Austin was grunting like wild animal, his knuckles getting swollen by the second. He was determined and couldn't think straight. All his years of studying the art of boxing has finally come in handy. And by God he was gonna fling all of his might and fury into this lowlife's face.

Carmine and Pellegrino kept holding firm onto the man, wincing slightly as to not get too close to Austin's blows. After what seemed like eternity, Austin landed one last punch square in the mouth and backed away heaving ragged breaths, gulping down fresh air into his lungs. He pointed his index finger right into the man's bruised and bloodied face. "I swear to God, if you even so much as look at my wife again i'll rip your eyes out of their sockets." He spit out aggressively.

Carmine laughed and looked over the victim. "Nice work, Butler. I think the asshole learned his lesson. Never fuck with the Tenaglia's." He smiled devilishly.

Austin put his hands over his hips and nodded at the men. Carmine and Green took the blonde's non verbal queue and released their grip on the bloody pulp of a man, who immediately fell into a heap on the cold alley floor with a groan. Carmine spit down towards the man on the ground, and walked over to Austin cool as a cucumber.

Pellegrino however was not about to walk away without landing one blow for his own pride. He crouched down and landed a punch so hard he knocked a few teeth from the beaten up Italian man's mouth. "That was for my wife, you rat." He said with sour resentment.

Carmine walked over to Green and placed his hands over his shoulders. "Come on fratellino, don't get your nice suit all dirty with this fucko's blood. The stains are a bitch to get out." He says, trying to cut through the seriousness with a morbid joke. Green huffed and nodded, walking back into the club and disappearing from the scene of the crime - he fears if he stays for a second longer he'll lose his composure even more. He had done his part, nothing more was needed. Carmine brushed the dirt off his shoulders and he too stepped back into the club. And now there were two.

Austin stared down at the pathetic man below him, feeling empowered. It felt damn good to deliver swift justice on behalf of his wife. And he hoped this beating taught the man a powerful lesson. Respect means just as much to any Italian clan as loyalty. Without respect, you might as well be considered dead. He knew as soon as he gawked openly at his wife at the table that Austin was gonna have his hands full. He never thought however that it would take a turn like this, and so swiftly. But he would do it again all the same knowing that he protected you.

With one final passing glance at the man on the floor, Austin turned around and opened the exit door, walking back into the club.

Everyone seemingly enough forgot about the altercation that just took place. The music kept blaring and the drinks kept pouring. But you were still on the sidelines of the dancefloor. And one by one you saw the Tenaglia brothers walk back inside. Carmine tapped Green on the shoulder, whispering something into his ear, and Green nodded. Carmine walked off towards the front door of the club while Green headed back over to the men's table.

You were looking for Austin when finally you saw him rush back into the club, looking disheveled. You can feel his anger from a mile away. He made a beeline for the men's bathroom, with both hands he pushed the door open forcefully, disappearing inside.

While against your better judgement to follow your husband into the men's bathroom, you wanted to make sure he was okay. No one had exited the bathroom, so you assume that he's alone in there. Thinking that it was safe to make a move, you start to make your way over to the bathroom, and timidly open the door.

"Austin?" Your angelic voice calls out to him sweetly as you peek open the door, not wanting to barge right in. You can't see a lot from your vantage point except for the running water in one of the porcelain sinks as Austin stands over it.

"Come in and close the door, honey." Austin said as his voice waivers, still riled up from the events that just transpired.

You immediately shuffle in and close the door behind you, turning the lock so that no one would try to interrupt and see the mess. You're in shock when you see Austin standing over the bathroom sink, the water turning a shade of pink as he washed the copious amount of blood off of hands. You've never seen Austin like this before. He was amazing at using his words to win in a fight if need be, but he never resorted to physical violence. This was a new hat that Austin was wearing at at first you aren't sure what to make of it.

Austin sensed your nervousness as you just stood by the door fiddling with your hands, not venturing inside. He turned his head over to you, capturing your eyes in a searing look. The disgust was still prevalent as it rolled off him in droves, but he started to melt seeing his beautiful wife look so innocent, unaware that he just beat a man within an inch of his life just a minute ago. And it was all because of her.

The corners of his lips curled up slightly in a soft smile. "Don't worry baby, this isn't my blood." He said, trying to pacify the situation and put you at ease. As if knowing it was someone else's blood makes it any better.

"Are you okay?" You ask shyly.

Austin nodded. "I'm maybe a little shaken up, but i'm fine. it's you that i'm concerned about." He says, getting back to washing his hands in the sink with some soap.

Your high heels click against the white linoleum tiles as you make your way over to Austin's side. You place one of your hands lovingly on his shoulder. He feels tense under your hand at first, but once he feels the warmth of you he starts to relax.

You look into the sink and see Austin's hands up close. His knuckles are red and swollen, they must really hurt. You can only imagine what the other guy looks like right now if Austin came back with these battle scars. You shiver uncomfortably at the thought. You'd rather not know.

You move to stand behind Austin, and your arms wrap around his waist, bringing his body into your soft curves. He brings his head back up to look at you through the bathroom mirror. Even in your high heels you were still considerably shorter than he was.

He sighed deeply, turning the faucet off and letting one of his battered hands rest on the ledge of the countertop, while the other one placed tenderly over your hands around his front.

"I've never seen you like that before. It's like you had a fire behind your eyes that couldn't be extinguished. When I saw you walking out back I thought you were gonna kill him." You said, muffled into his shoulder blade.

He looked at you through the mirror with weary eyes. "I almost did, but not on purpose. The bastard had it coming. No one ever dares to lay a hand on you. If they're stupid enough they can try but I'm always gonna be there to protect you. You're my wife, my most cherished earthly possession." He paused briefly to turn around in your arms and he brought his hands up to show you the damage. The water trickled down his long fingers mixing with the residual blood on his knuckles. Your brow furrowed with worry seeing just how scarred his beautiful hands were. "And this is what happens when someone tries to tarnish my treasure." He said matter of factly.

You sighed, your hands carefully cradling his and inspecting them further. You bring the back of his right hand to your lips and press a featherlight kiss to his skin, staring up at his ocean eyes.

Austin winced a little bit, but the brief glimpse of faint pain turned into pleasure as he let out a throaty whimper. You continued to place gentle, easy kisses along his rugged hands, peppering them with love as you dote on him tenderly. Your face nuzzled into the palm of his right hand, your lips brushing up against the sore pad of his thumb as you bring the digit into your wet mouth, sucking slowly.

"Babygirl." Austin sighed longingly.

You wanted nothing more than to take care of your man. He's never had the proper moment to defend your honor before tonight, and in such a violent way no less. While it scared you at first seeing Austin punch the lights out of a wise guy who definitely deserved it, and was foaming at the mouth with rage ready to rip his head off his shoulders, your body is on fire - not with anger, but with a swell of burning passion. He came to your aid and protected you. While that might frighten off any young girl who would probably pack her bags the minute their husband beat the shit out of somebody and comes back with bloody hands, you were different. This is the life you inadvertently signed up for. Plus, you're no ordinary woman. You have to admit the truth - it turned you on like no other.

And seemingly Austin felt the same way, as you could feel his growing erection pressing into your stomach the longer you smother his inflamed hands with spellbinding kisses, bringing him back down to Earth. You never thought aggression like that would make you wetter than a waterfall, but there's always a first time for everything.

You hummed around his thumb, your long lashes fluttered as you continued to stare up at your man, who was slowly coming undone Infront of you. You release his thumb from your mouth with a pop and your hands roamed over his chest. You let your fingers trace over the gold cross necklace that dangled in the tufts of blonde chest hairs. Something about this very symbol of devotion to God being worn around his neck while he was beating that horrid man out back to smithereens in your honor made the coil in your stomach wind tight and your pussy throb with desire. You needed Austin, and now.

You lock eyes with Austin's blues, heavy lidded with lust, and bite your lip. "We don't have much time before we have to head back out there and play the role of Club Owners. But you're not leaving this room until you've shot every ounce of your cum down my throat. As your wife, that's what I want."

Austin moaned at your bold, heated statement. He licked his lips and cradled your face in his hands, his thumbs stroking your cheeks. "As your husband, who am I to deny you?" He says huskily.

He crashed his lips onto yours, moaning into your mouth. Your tongues probing each others mouths, lapping back and forth for mutual dominance. His tired hands roam the expanse of your body, greedily palming the flesh of your ass, bringing you closer to his hard body. Your hands trailed down to the waistband of his slacks and hurriedly unbuttoned and unzipped them. To your surprise Austin went commando under his pants, but this allowed you for easy and quick access to the part of him you yearned for.

You let one of your small hands palm his cock, letting your fingers dance along his velvet length. He shakes in your hand, softly moaning against your parted mouth at the contact of your warm hand over his aching desire. You don't want to waste any more time, you need him right now. Going down easy, you kneel down in front of him, perched prettily on your high heels. Your hands reach up to his open pants, pulling them down Austin's long legs and letting the fabric pool at his ankles. The cool breeze hits his lower half for the first time, and his hard cock throbs in your face at the sweet release. The poor thing is already red and leaking with pre-cum. It won't take him long at all to deliver on his promise of filling your throat with his load. But you want to savor the feel of him for as long as you can. Sweetly, you place kisses all along the underside of his shaft and make your way back towards the tip. Austin blushes at you lavishing his manhood - you take such good care of him, he's in awe of the wonder of you - his darling wife. Your tongue slips past your lips and you lick the red and puffy head.

Austin tilts his head back and moans "Jesus fuck, I need your mouth on my cock so bad, baby."

His plea makes you wet, and you're gonna make sure he fully enjoys the messiest blowjob you're prepared to bestow upon him. You let a generous amount of spit gather in your mouth and you allow the drool to pour out over his cock, coating him nice and good. You wrap both hands around his engorged cock, giving him a few pumps and earning you throaty, hoarse, whiny moans from Austin above you.

Finally, your mouth parts and you take him into your mouth. You play with just the tip for now, sucking the sensitive head in your mouth and stroking his shaft. You moan around him like a good girl, making him shiver.

"Oh yeah. My girl knows how to suck me good." He moans delightfully. All the little whimpers and throaty groans he makes is like music to your ears, and you've barely gotten started. He's just as down bad for you as you are for him. Your panties collect all of the spilled nectar from your pussy, and you wish he could sample how good you taste. But there's plenty of time for that later. Right now, Austin's pleasure is all you care about.

Slowly, you start to sink your mouth down around his cock, taking him further into your mouth. You place both of your hands on the backs of his thick thighs, stroking him lovingly as you set to getting to work. You create a strong vacuum seal with your mouth, wrapping tightly around his throbbing cock and begin to bob your head up and down along his length. It's beyond messy, and drool is falling out the corners of your mouth, making his cock slippery as he slides deliciously along your wet tongue. Droplets of your saliva fall to the floor Infront of you. He grows heavy and harder by the second, making you work your little mouth off to satisfy every single glorious inch of your husband's heavenly made cock.

He knits his brows together, his eyes heavy and glazed over in pure ecstasy at the sight of his wife on her knees sucking him off while there's a packed room full of patrons right outside the door. He hoped the music was loud enough to disguise his obvious moans.

"Fuck. Just like that, baby. Your mouth is incredible." Austin groans desperately.

You gurgle around his cock as you pick up the pace just a little, the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat. You relax your jaw to accommodate his impressive size. Somehow he's even bigger today. Perhaps all the adrenaline from a few moments ago is rushing straight to his cock. He's a needy and whimpering mess up above you. His hands card through your soft silky hair, holding on for dear life as he brings you further along his cock. He's lost in the feeling of your warm, sloppy mouth milking his shaft - somehow, even though you've been married for some time, you make every sexual experience with Austin feel like the first time all over again. He doesn't know what the hell he did to deserve you. Never has a woman gotten down on her knees for him and sucked the soul straight through his cock, determined to make him see stars. At this point he doesn't give a fuck who he has to beat up if it's all in the name of protecting you, and getting his dick wet in you after.

You moan around him, never letting up on the rumbling vibration from your mouth penetrate straight through his cock and through to his aching balls, which are desperate to unleash their load.

His body starts to shake, you know he's close. His plush lips form an O shape as he lets out a raspy, deep moan. "I-I'm gonna cum."

In one last final move to put him over the edge, you bring one of your hands back to his base, and your mouth sloppily sucks off his engorged tip once more. You know this is his finishing move. His head is so sensitive and you know he can come in record time with this combo of jerking him off and blowing his puffy tip. You make obscene sloshing noises around his cock, the sound of his wet skin in your hand echoes off of the bathroom tiles. If anybody were to walk past the bathroom right now they'd think a porno was being filmed in here. Your hand milks his shaft while your mouth works his throbbing tip.

Austin lets his head fall back. "Oh god yes, i'm cuming." He groans in a needy high pitch for his baritone. "Take my load down your throat. Take all of me." He moans thickly and dark.

And you do, happily. His hips stutter as he heaves ragged breaths, his salty cum gushing into your mouth. You sputter around his cock as you swallow every last drop of your husband's cum. You moan once more around him before pulling back, ensuring you devoured every morsel his precious seed. His cock springs free from your mouth and nearly slaps you in the face as the wave of his orgasm courses through his body. You lick your lips of the remnants of his cum on your mouth.

Austin's hands reach down to grasp your forearms, helping you up onto your feet. You wobble a little, and you'd be lying if you said your feet weren't killing you from crouching on the balls of your heeled feet for the duration of your sloppy blowjob. But it was worth it to see the warm, sultry look over Austin's face. He was love drunk on you.

He tucked himself back into his pants and fumbled to button and zip up his trousers, but he managed to do it. He smiles and brings you in to his lips for a passionate kiss, not caring if he can taste himself on your tongue.

You're about to step to the side of him, making your move to unlock the bathroom door as your mission to seduce your husband was a success, but he stops you. He takes you in his arms and pins you up against the edge of the sink. You gasp when he bends down and his hands grip the backs of your thighs. With a grunt, he places you up onto the counter, and settles in-between your parted legs.

"Let's see how fast I can make you cum." Austin says seductively with a devilish twinkle in his eyes. This was certainly not what you were expecting, but you're not complaining.

You don't even have time to respond before Austin spits on two of his long fingers, and with the other one he shifts your soaked panties to the side. He's not surprised when his fingers make contact with your dripping folds that you were soaking wet. You whimper at his fingers dipping in deep into your sweet cunt. Your juices coat his swollen, rough fingers, your pussy lips drawing him in as far as he can go. And without a moment to lose, his fingers disappear into your heat.

"Austin!" You moan loudly as you feel his fingers enter you and brush against your g-spot. Oh, he's in deep. He's so deep in fact that you feel full of him instantly. Austin is buried knuckles deep in your sopping cunt. Your hands grip onto his broad shoulders for support.

"Mm. Always so wet and tight for me at a moments notice. My perfect wife." He moans sexily.

He doesn't take his time, he meant what he said by how quickly he can make you cum. He's set for the task at hand. And he's willing to bet it will only take you a minute with his skilled fingers, perfectly in sync with your body, knowing exactly what you need to set you over the edge.

Keeping his fingers the deepest they can possibly go inside you, he begins to finger fuck you hard and fast. Your slick sputters around his fingers and gush out around him. It sounds so fucking wet.

"Oh god, yes!" You squeal. He knows exactly how and where to press all your buttons to make you squirm in the best way possible. And right now he's blasting your cunt so good you can't even think straight.

You let your head fall back and the breathy whines escape your mouth. Austin groans at the sound of your juicy pussy sloshing your slick around his fingers. The obscene thought that these same fingers were soaked in that man's blood crossed your mind. But the violence Austin's hands endured only moments ago is replaced with primal pleasure, and his girl's heavenly nectar washing away the blood stains.

Austin clenches his jaw and grits his teeth. His hand is worse for wear and it's not helping matters that he's pounding into your soft heat with his beaten up hand, but there was no way he was letting his girl walk out of here without being treated to a good fuck.

"Fuck! You're so good." You moan. Austin is unrelenting on his brutal pace. He's not letting his fingers slip too far out of you either. He's keeping them cemented deep down inside your pussy, his fingers brushing up against your g-spot and bruising your cervix with every thrust. The open palm of his hand barely grazes your clit, and your walls clamp down hard around his fingers, causing him to bite his lip and moan. He brings his other hand around your front and brushes your clit in determined circles. "Oh my god, Aus!" You whine. You feel his biceps flex hard underneath your hands as he expertly churns the coil down at the vast depths of your dripping wet pussy. It's getting him hard all over again.

Austin's lip twitches into a coy side smirk. His dimples making an appearance. "You like this, baby? You like knowing these fingers stuffed full in your pussy were defending your honor? Hear how wet you are for me, darlin. All your heavenly juices are mine. I wanna fuckin' drown in it. Make a mess of me." Austin moaned, never daring to look away from your eyes that were welling up with tears of pure bliss.

Your body trembled as you felt yourself getting closer to your climax. You allowed yourself to moan to the high heavens, not caring how loud you were being. In fact, you wanted everyone to know that Austin Butler was bringing you to your wettest orgasm you've ever had.

"This pussy is yours baby. Take all of it! Oh F-Fuck, im gonna cum!" You squeal, your walls fluttering around his fingers.

Austin groaned. "That's it, my love. Give it to me." He said, huskily.

With a few final, brutal thrusts of his fingers, your pussy spasmed hard around him, groaning loudly and shouting Austin's name. Sweat drips down Austin's forehead, his blonde waves tousled out of place looking unkempt yet effortlessly sexy. Your body collapses in a heap on the bathroom counter, and Austin braces you with one hand. He keeps himself inside you for a little longer as you ride your orgasm to completion. When he thinks you've crash-landed, he pulls his fingers soaked through to the bone with your cum out of your swollen pussy. Austin bit his lip and admired how his bruised knuckled glistened with your arousal. He brought them into his mouth and sucked them clean, moaning in delight at the delicious flavor of you.

"Holy shit, Austin." You breathed heavily, laughing a little.

"I think that was record time." He said, giggling cutely.

You smiled and pulled him by the shirt collar into a soft kiss. Pulling away, you inspect his hand. "That probably didn't feel good to your hand. I'm sorry, honey." You said.

Austin blew off your apology. "Nothing to even be sorry about," He placed his hands around the small of your waist and hoisted you up, helping you back down onto the ground. "Besides, I think your pussy was the miracle elixir I needed to get my hand on the mend." He said, flashing you an adorably crooked wink at you.

You laughed, playfully slapping his chest. Austin jumped back a little and chuckled heartily.

"Just so we don't look like we spent the last 20 minutes in here fucking like rabbits, I think you should go out first and then I'll follow you shortly." You said smiling, still regaining your composure. You know you're gonna be walking funny for a few hours. Your pussy took a rigorous beating, but it's a sore feeling you wholeheartedly accept.

Austin stuffed his hands into his trouser pockets. He looks like a freshly watered pot of daisies. His angry temperament had faded away long ago. You were his cure. He nodded. "Okay, suit yourself baby. Don't wait too long though. This is the men's room after all." He laughed.

"I won't, I promise." You reassured him sweetly.

Austin winked again and puckered his lips, kissing the air in your direction before turning around. He unlocked the bathroom door and glanced back at you one last time with his beautiful eyes that were sparkling, and a cute smile on his face before he walked away. The disco lights and the blaring music from the outside world briefly showed itself. Reminding you of where you were.

You sighed and looked at yourself in the mirror. Your shaking hands smoothed over the front of your dress. You cleaned yourself up as best you good. And you attempted to fix your hair that had fallen out of place. Luckily you made sure to put a little travel size bottle of hairspray in the mens and womens bathrooms for your guests to touch up their hair after dancing, so you took the aquanet and sprayed a generous amount on your coiffure. After fluffing your hair once more, you decided enough time had passed and you were safe to exit the bathroom without no one the wiser.

Your feet were on fire, and you wanted nothing more than to get out of these heels. But you still had a few more hours of work before you and Austin could head home. You gingerly pushed the door open, and suddenly you were back into the dark world of Tease. You walked further into the club, and seemingly nobody noticed you. So your plan worked.

Your eyes scanned over every corner until you found Austin again, who was back at the bar talking with Green and Tiffany. Carmine still wasn't anywhere to be found, at least from where you were standing. You assumed maybe he left early. And while that was a little odd for a man that thrives on being out and not at home with his wife, you shrugged off the thought.

But your stomach dropped when you noticed the gang of Italian wise guys that you had greeted at the table earlier in the evening. They looked like to be in a hurry to scamper out of here. You didn't spot any sign of the sleezeball who had attempted to pimp slap you on the dancefloor though. Maybe he had gotten the obvious hint and left. The way the men were tightly grouped together and walking like they mean business made the little nagging voice in the back of your head spring to life. Something was wrong.

The men had opened the exit door where Green, Carmine, and Austin had once been earlier. Why were they sneaking out the back when they could just walk out the front door? Going against your better instincts, you decide to follow them from a considerable distance away. This was probably the worst idea, but you had a bad feeling about this, and you were gonna find out what it was to quell your nerves.

You hung back as the exit door swung open and you caught a glimpse of the men bending down to the cold alley floor and picking up mister hair plugs, who seemingly was still laying on the ground and never left his spot the entire time you and Austin had your quickie.

In the light you finally saw the damage Austin had done to the man. You gasped when you saw the black eyes, missing teeth, and blood still pouring from his mouth. You made sure to hide in the shadows so the men didn't see you from the inside. He barely resembled the man you had seen on the dancefloor.

"Jesus Christ, they somehow made you even uglier." Said one of the younger suits.

"Shut your big mouth, Tommy. Just pick him up." Barked the older Italian man you knew to definitely be the ring leader of the pack. You recognized him from earlier - he said all those nice things to you and Austin about Tease and your marriage. You hoped he was still one of the good ones out of the bunch. You couldn't account for the others.

The man on the ground moaned in pain like an injured dog. Tommy and the young fella who you vaguely recognized from the table, plus the older gentleman was flanking the beaten man. And slowly but surely, the scumbag rose to his feet. He could barely hold himself up, he was leaning on his men for help. He spit out a generous helping of blood onto the cobblestones, a trail of the viscous red fluid started to stain his suit and corn starch stiff button down shirt.

"Well, what the fuck do we do know?" Said young wise guy number 2, who's name you still hadn't figured out yet.

"We gotta get him back home, that's what the fuck we do." Retorted Tommy.

"Ey. Just zip your fuckin' pie holes all youse, and keep Michael on his feet." Says the older man. You learned another new piece of information. The man who made the bold move against you and Tiffany was named Michael. You jotted that down for safe keeping. You wish you could remember what Italian family they belong to. All you knew was the older man who was the head honcho, who's name alludes you. You have Michael the fuckwit, and Tommy the bigmouth. You also had the other young suit who looked to be Austin's age and was struggling to keep it together.

The man who you gathered now was Tommy peered out into the street, making sure the coast was clear before he waved the other men in the alley with his hand to signal it was good to move.

Before the group of men made their final dissent into the street, you heard Michael utter something that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand to attention, and send a bone chilling shiver down your spine.

"Blondie and his fucking whore wife are gonna regret this day." He said with as much bitter resentment as possible. He spit out more blood before letting his head roll in front of him. It looked like he passed out as his eyes were closed, and the no-name, scared shitless gangster was slapping his face, trying to keep him conscious.

"We'll deal with them Tenaglia motherfuckers later. Move your asses. We're good to go here." Loudly whispered Tommy. And as quickly as they came, they vanished into the hazy Brooklyn streets.

You closed the door and stood there in a stupor, trying to process what you just heard. These guys seemed like they're not to be trifled with. But you can't know for sure. You've meet half a dozen Italian mafiosos who were all bark and no bite. While you knew Michael was in no condition to do anything to enact on a revenge scheme, you weren't sure about the other men. The scaredy-cat goodfella might not be a threat, but that Tommy guy definitely had a vendetta to enact. They all seem like loose canons, and you couldn't really pin any of them down. And that terrified you. What did he mean by "dealing" with the Teneglia's later? You weren't sure. And you weren't waiting long to find out.

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[justinspoliticalcorner]

Bill Prutt for Slate:

On Jan. 8, 2004, just more than 20 years ago, the first episode of The Apprentice aired. It was called “Meet the Billionaire,” and 18 million people watched. The episodes that followed climbed to roughly 20 million each week. A staggering 28 million viewers tuned in to watch the first season finale. The series won an Emmy nomination for Outstanding Reality-Competition Program, and the Television Critics Association called it one of the best TV shows of the year, alongside The Sopranos and Arrested Development. The series—alongside its bawdy sibling, The Celebrity Apprentice—appeared on NBC in coveted prime-time slots for more than a decade. The Apprentice was an instant success in another way too. It elevated Donald J. Trump from sleazy New York tabloid hustler to respectable household name. In the show, he appeared to demonstrate impeccable business instincts and unparalleled wealth, even though his businesses had barely survived multiple bankruptcies and faced yet another when he was cast. By carefully misleading viewers about Trump—his wealth, his stature, his character, and his intent—the competition reality show set about an American fraud that would balloon beyond its creators’ wildest imaginations.

I should know. I was one of four producers involved in the first two seasons. During that time, I signed an expansive nondisclosure agreement that promised a fine of $5 million and even jail time if I were to ever divulge what actually happened. It expired this year. No one involved in The Apprentice—from the production company or the network, to the cast and crew—was involved in a con with malicious intent. It was a TV show, and it was made for entertainment. I still believe that. But we played fast and loose with the facts, particularly regarding Trump, and if you were one of the 28 million who tuned in, chances are you were conned. As Trump answers for another of his alleged deception schemes in New York and gears up to try to persuade Americans to elect him again, in part thanks to the myth we created, I can finally tell you what making Trump into what he is today looked like from my side. Most days were revealing. Some still haunt me, two decades later. [...]

Now, this is important. The Apprentice is a game show regulated by the Federal Communications Commission. In the 1950s, scandals arose when producers of quiz shows fed answers to likable, ratings-generating contestants while withholding those answers from unlikable but truly knowledgeable players. Any of us involved in The Apprentice swinging the outcome of prize money by telling Trump whom to fire is forbidden. [...]

Trump goes about knocking off every one of the contestants in the boardroom until only two remain. The finalists are Kwame Jackson, a Black broker from Goldman Sachs, and Bill Rancic, a white entrepreneur from Chicago who runs his own cigar business. Trump assigns them each a task devoted to one of his crown-jewel properties. Jackson will oversee a Jessica Simpson benefit concert at Trump Taj Mahal Casino in Atlantic City, while Rancic will oversee a celebrity golf tournament at Trump National Golf Club in Briarcliff Manor, New York. Viewers need to believe that whatever Trump touches turns to gold. These properties that bear his name are supposed to glitter and gleam. All thanks to him.

Reality is another matter altogether. The lights in the casino’s sign are out. Hong Kong investors actually own the place—Trump merely lends his name. The carpet stinks, and the surroundings for Simpson’s concert are ramshackle at best. We shoot around all that. Both Rancic and Jackson do a round-robin recruitment of former contestants, and Jackson makes the fateful decision to team up with the notorious Omarosa, among others, to help him carry out his final challenge. [...]

Trump will make his decision live on camera months later, so what we are about to film is the setup to that reveal. The race between Jackson and Rancic should seem close, and that’s how we’ll edit the footage. Since we don’t know who’ll be chosen, it must appear close, even if it’s not.

We lay out the virtues and deficiencies of each finalist to Trump in a fair and balanced way, but sensing the moment at hand, Kepcher sort of comes out of herself. She expresses how she observed Jackson at the casino overcoming more obstacles than Rancic, particularly with the way he managed the troublesome Omarosa. Jackson, Kepcher maintains, handled the calamity with grace. “I think Kwame would be a great addition to the organization,” Kepcher says to Trump, who winces while his head bobs around in reaction to what he is hearing and clearly resisting. “Why didn’t he just fire her?” Trump asks, referring to Omarosa. It’s a reasonable question. Given that this the first time we’ve ever been in this situation, none of this is something we expected. “That’s not his job,” Bienstock says to Trump. “That’s yours.” Trump’s head continues to bob. “I don’t think he knew he had the ability to do that,” Kepcher says. Trump winces again.

“Yeah,” he says to no one in particular, “but, I mean, would America buy a n— winning?” Kepcher’s pale skin goes bright red. I turn my gaze toward Trump. He continues to wince. He is serious, and he is adamant about not hiring Jackson. Bienstock does a half cough, half laugh, and swiftly changes the topic or throws to Ross for his assessment. What happens next I don’t entirely recall. I am still processing what I have just heard. We all are. Only Bienstock knows well enough to keep the train moving. None of us thinks to walk out the door and never return. I still wish I had. (Bienstock and Kepcher didn’t respond to requests for comment.) Afterward, we film the final meeting in the boardroom, where Jackson and Rancic are scrutinized by Trump, who, we already know, favors Rancic. Then we wrap production, pack up, and head home. There is no discussion about what Trump said in the boardroom, about how the damning evidence was caught on tape. Nothing happens.

We attend to our thesis that only the best and brightest deserve a job working for Donald Trump. Luckily, the winner, Bill Rancic, and his rival, Kwame Jackson, come off as capable and confident throughout the season. If for some reason they had not, we would have conveniently left their shortcomings on the cutting room floor. In actuality, both men did deserve to win. Without a doubt, the hardest decisions we faced in postproduction were how to edit together sequences involving Trump. We needed him to sound sharp, dignified, and clear on what he was looking for and not as if he was yelling at people. You see him today: When he reads from a teleprompter, he comes off as loud and stoic. Go to one of his rallies and he’s the off-the-cuff rambler rousing his followers into a frenzy. While filming, he struggled to convey even the most basic items. But as he became more comfortable with filming, Trump made raucous comments he found funny or amusing—some of them misogynistic as well as racist. We cut those comments. Go to one of his rallies today and you can hear many of them.

If you listen carefully, especially to that first episode, you will notice clearly altered dialogue from Trump in both the task delivery and the boardroom. Trump was overwhelmed with remembering the contestants’ names, the way they would ride the elevator back upstairs or down to the street, the mechanics of what he needed to convey. Bienstock instigated additional dialogue recording that came late in the edit phase. We set Trump up in the soundproof boardroom set and fed him lines he would read into a microphone with Bienstock on the phone, directing from L.A. And suddenly Trump knows the names of every one of the contestants and says them while the camera cuts to each of their faces. Wow, you think, how does he remember everyone’s name? While on location, he could barely put a sentence together regarding how a task would work. Listen now, and he speaks directly to what needs to happen while the camera conveniently cuts away to the contestants, who are listening and nodding. He sounds articulate and concise through some editing sleight of hand.

Then comes the note from NBC about the fact that after Trump delivers the task assignment to the contestants, he disappears from the episode after the first act and doesn’t show up again until the next-to-last. That’s too long for the (high-priced) star of the show to be absent. There is a convenient solution. At the top of the second act, right after the task has been assigned but right before the teams embark on their assignment, we insert a sequence with Trump, seated inside his gilded apartment, dispensing a carefully crafted bit of wisdom. He speaks to whatever the theme of each episode is—why someone gets fired or what would lead to a win. The net effect is not only that Trump appears once more in each episode but that he also now seems prophetic in how he just knows the way things will go right or wrong with each individual task. He comes off as all-seeing and all-knowing. We are led to believe that Donald Trump is a natural-born leader.

Through the editorial nudge we provide him, Trump prevails. So much so that NBC asks for more time in the boardroom to appear at the end of all the remaining episodes. (NBC declined to comment for this article.) [... So, we scammed. We swindled. Nobody heard the racist and misogynistic comments or saw the alleged cheating, the bluffing, or his hair taking off in the wind. Those tapes, I’ve come to believe, will never be found.

No one lost their retirement fund or fell on hard times from watching The Apprentice. But Trump rose in stature to the point where he could finally eye a run for the White House, something he had intended to do all the way back in 1998. Along the way, he could now feed his appetite for defrauding the public with various shady practices. In 2005 thousands of students enrolled in what was called Trump University, hoping to gain insight from the Donald and his “handpicked” professors. Each paid as much as $35,000 to listen to some huckster trade on Trump’s name. In a sworn affidavit, salesman Ronald Schnackenberg testified that Trump University was “fraudulent.” The scam swiftly went from online videoconferencing courses to live events held by high-pressure sales professionals whose only job was to persuade attendees to sign up for the course. The sales were for the course “tuition” and had nothing whatsoever to do with real estate investments. A class action suit was filed against Trump.

That same year, Trump was caught bragging to Access Hollywood co-host Billy Bush that he likes to grab married women “by the pussy,” adding, “When you’re a star, they let you do it.” He later tried to recruit porn actor Stormy Daniels for The Apprentice despite her profession and, according to Daniels, had sex with her right after his last son was born. (His alleged attempt to pay off Daniels is, of course, the subject of his recent trial.) In October 2016—a month before the election—the Access Hollywood tapes were released and written off as “locker room banter.” Trump paid Daniels to keep silent about their alleged affair. He paid $25 million to settle the Trump University lawsuit and make it go away. He went on to become the first elected president to possess neither public service nor military experience. And although he lost the popular vote, Trump beat out Hillary Clinton in the Electoral College, winning in the Rust Belt by just 80,000 votes.

Trump has been called the “reality TV president,” and not just because of The Apprentice. The Situation Room, where top advisers gathered, became a place for photo-ops, a bigger, better boardroom. Trump swaggered and cajoled, just as he had on the show. Whom would he listen to? Whom would he fire? Stay tuned. Trump even has his own spinoff, called the House of Representatives, where women hurl racist taunts and body-shame one another with impunity. The State of the Union is basically a cage fight. The demands of public office now include blowhard buffoonery.

Bill Pruitt wrote in Slate that Donald Trump used the N-word on the set of NBC's The Apprentice in 2004 when referring to a Black contestant (Kwame Jackson)'s chances of winning the competition by saying "would America buy a n***er winning?"

This is yet another example of Trump's long record of anti-Black racism that dates back to the 1970s.

[thefallennightmare]

Moment of Weakness-twenty three

*credit to whoever created the gif. found on google/Pinterest *

Pairings: Mob!Bucky Barnes x reader

Warnings: language, smut, angst, fluff, affair, cheating, violence.

Summary: Reader is the assistant to New York's most feared mob boss, James Buchanan Barnes. He had the picture-perfect life: status in the mob, friends, and beautiful wife. So why can't he keep his mind and eyes off of reader?

Author's Note: unsure if another update is coming today or not. so enjoy this one for now!

Tags(closed): @splendidreads @sebsgirl71479 @mdpplgtz03 @pattiemac1 @unaxv @alana4610 @broadwaybabe18 @themayzittcha @playboystark @raajali3 @ozwriterchick @ragamuffin285 @screamingdying @themorningsunshine @kenziekugler22 @calwitch @sebastianstansqueen @stanaddict @stucky-simp03 @sleyeveryday @loustan90 @lyra-black13 @valsworldofcreativity @cjand10 @tesseract69 @batprincess1013 @subwaysurf45 @arsonfrogger @yoruse @5moremin @lipstickandtanqueray @mandijo17 @joannaromanoff @justsebstan @winters1917 @elizacusi-blog @football1921 @elxvrr

EIGHT MONTHS LATER. 

I let out a deep breath while pulling my jacket closer to my chest as I continued the walk down the busy streets of New York City. It was after six in the evening and everyone was rushing to get home to enjoy the rest of their evening while I was trying to make it to the office in time, before he left. 

This wasn’t an easy decision I made, knowing the consequences that could follow. But I didn’t have any other choice. He was the only one that could help me with this.  

The thought of if he would even want to help me did cross my mind a few times, especially with how things ended, but there was a small part of me that hoped his feelings for me were still strong. Strictly to help me with my problem, nothing else. 

It had been so long since I talked to any of the three men I used to work with, deciding to stay off of social media because I couldn’t bother to see what happened with Bucky and Natasha. By now, he had to have realized that I was right; Natasha was faking the entire pregnancy. 

Yet, I hadn’t heard from him so maybe he still decided to stay with her. 

You told him to stay away. 

Shaking away the thought, I turned the corner and the all too familiar building came into view as with one last deep breath, I pushed through the door and my eyes landed on the person sitting at what used to be my desk. My heart hammered in my chest as his scent filled my senses. 

“Well, it seems like the job isn’t available anymore, huh?” 

He turned around in a haste in the chair, eyes grazing over every inch of me to make sure I had been standing in front of him. 

The last time we talked was a few months ago and we actually hadn’t seen each other since before I quit. He looked the same, hair and beard a bit longer. 

“Hi Steve,” I smiled. 

“Y/N?” 

Steve was quick on his feet to wrap his arms around me and lifted my body off of the ground a few inches. I closed my eyes at the warmth, silently missing him just as much. 

“How have you been?” Steve asked while setting me back onto solid ground. 

I nodded. “Good, I guess. How have things been here?” 

Steve hesitated, his shoulders going stiff. “Have you talked to him at all?” 

This time I shook my head so Steve gently led me to the couch in the main area of the office and we sat next to each other. He scratched at his beard, trying to find the right way to say this. 

“He’s gone rogue the last couple of months. He doesn't need mine or Sam’s help for anything, he takes care of the problems himself.” 

I pointed towards his office. “Is he here?” 

Steve shook his head. “I haven't seen him all day. He called me earlier to say he’s got something to take care of so he’s going to be at Power Brokers tonight.” 

My eyes narrowed. “He hates that club. Why would he go there?” 

“I don’t know,” Steve sighed. “He doesn’t tell Sam or I anything anymore. We only show up here now in case he needs us.” 

“Are he and Nat-?” 

He placed a hand on my knee, stopping the words. “That’s something Bucky has to talk to you about.” 

With a slow nod, I contemplated my next move because I knew that if I went to Power Broker tonight, it would be a disaster from the start. That club was highly known as a black market, people trying to sell you things that you couldn’t buy anywhere else. But if you didn’t agree to it it would be highly unlikely that you would make it back out alive. 

“Are you going to tell me why you showed up tonight?” 

I gave Steve my attention now and shrugged. “Trust me, I would rather go to anyone else with this but Bucky is the only one that can help me.” 

He cupped my cheek. “Please be careful.” 

“Always,” I covered his hand with my own. 

The music of the club vibrated against my bones as I maneuvered my way through the seas of people, who did their best to either dance with me or sell me on their latest project they had hiding in their pocket. I ignored all of them, keeping my focus on finding the one person that I needed. 

When I asked the bouncers outside if they had seen Bucky, they were quick to give him up. 

“He’s been causing problems here all night but refuses to leave. The men we have here aren't nearly as strong as he is to kick him out.”

I was on high alert, skiing tingling with my senses, as I observed the giant open dance floor of the club until some commotion at the bar piqued my interest. I watched as a guy was thrown onto the glass bar top, black and gold fingers wrapped around his throat. 

“Where is she?!” 

The voice was deep, angry, and wanted to know the answers. 

My heart beat intensified as I marveled at how different he looked yet looking exactly the same. The brown leather vest that covered his broad chest was missing a sleeve, his entire vibranium arm on full display.  He didn’t look like a mob boss any longer but more so a soldier. 

The heat pooled between my legs but I squeezed them shut, knowing that now wasn't the time to think about that. 

“I swear, I don’t know where she is! Last I heard, they were in Budapest!” The man struggled for his life under the tight grip around his throat. 

“They were together?” 

The man on the bar nodded, as best he could. “That’s what my guys tell me.” 

As I saw a glimmer of sharp metal emerge from the pocket of the other man's vest, I finally decided to speak up. 

“Bucky.” 

My voice might have been hushed with the background noise of the club but I knew he heard because Bucky looked away from the man he had pinned, his once blue iris now dark stared back at me. The firmness in his body faded with his face softening, as he dropped the man to the floor below. 

“Doll?” 

I swallowed thickly at the old pet name because I couldn't get distracted, I needed to finish what I came for. 

“I need your help,” I admitted with a shaky breath.

[joannebarnes]

Ultimate Guide: Sell Your Business Quickly & Avoid Common Mistakes

Welcome to the ultimate guide on how to sell your business quickly and avoid common mistakes. Selling a business can be a complex and overwhelming process. Still, with the proper knowledge and preparation, you can make the process smoother and more successful. This guide will approach selling your business in steps, including:  1. Tips to prepare your business for sale  2. Making your business more visible 3. Navigate the negotiation and closing process 4. Resources that help you avoid common mistakes  Additionally, we will discuss resources that help you make informed decisions throughout the process and avoid common mistakes. Whether new at selling a business or an experienced entrepreneur, this guide will provide you with the tools and knowledge necessary to market your business quickly and effectively.

1. Tips To Prepare Your Business For Sale  Preparing your business for sale is crucial to getting the best deal possible. Here are some tips to help you prepare your business for a successful sale: 1.Get your financials in order: Potential buyers want to see detailed financial records, including income statements, balance sheets, and cash flow statements. Make sure these documents are accurate and up-to-date. 2. Clean up your operations: Streamline your operations and processes to make the business more efficient. This will make the company more attractive to potential buyers and demonstrate efficiency. 3. Build a strong team: A strong team can help to ensure that the business continues to run smoothly during and after the sale. Consider hiring key personnel or offering incentives for current employees to stay on. 4. Review and update your legal documents: Make sure all your legal documents, such as your articles of incorporation and operating agreements, are up-to-date and in order. 5. Develop a marketing plan: Develop a marketing plan to promote your business to potential buyers. This can include creating a website, advertising in trade publications, and networking with industry professionals. 6. Understand the value of your business: Before putting your business on the market, understand its value. Consider a professional business valuation to help you determine an accurate asking price. 7. Get your paperwork ready: Have all the necessary paperwork ready for the sale, such as purchase agreements, tax returns, and any other legal documents that may be required. 2. Making Your Business More Visible You want to be visible to those potential buyers looking for a business like yours. Here are some tips on how to effectively be known in the industry: 1. Create a website: A website is a great way to showcase your business to potential buyers. It should include detailed information about the company, including products or services offered, financials, and contact information. 2. Use social media: Social media platforms like Facebook, Twitter, and LinkedIn can be used to promote your business and connect with potential buyers. 3. Network with industry professionals: Networking with other business owners and industry professionals can help you to connect with potential buyers. Attend trade shows, conferences, and networking events to meet potential buyers. 4. Become visible in trade publications: Publish in trade publications and online platforms. This can help you reach potential buyers already interested in businesses like yours. 5. Use direct mail: Direct mail can be a cost-effective way to reach potential buyers. You can create a mailing list of potential buyers and send them information about your business. 6. Hire a business broker: An advisor can help make your business visible to potential buyers. They have the knowledge and experience to help you get the best deal possible. 7. Prepare a teaser: Prepare a brief summary of your business, its financials, and highlights that can be distributed to potential buyers. This will give them a quick understanding of your business and its value. By following these tips, you can effectively make your business more visible in the market and to potential buyers. Remember that the key is to reach as many potential buyers as possible and to make your business stand out in a crowded marketplace. With the proper strategy, you can increase your chances of getting your business's best deal.

3. How To Navigate Negotiations And Close The Deal

Navigating the negotiation and closing process of selling your business can be challenging. Still, you can make the process smoother and more successful with the right approach. Here are some tips for navigating the negotiation and closing process: 1. Be prepared: Have all the necessary paperwork ready and be prepared to answer any questions that potential buyers may have. 2. Have a clear understanding of your business's value: Understand the value of your business and have an exact asking price in mind. 3. Hire a lawyer: Hire a lawyer specializing in business sales to help you navigate the sale's legal aspects. 4. Be flexible: Be open to negotiation and be willing to compromise on certain aspects of the sale. 5. Communicate effectively: Communicate effectively with potential buyers and keep them updated on the progress of the sale. 6. Seek guidance: Seek guidance from a business broker or advisor who can help you navigate the negotiation and closing process. By following these tips, you can navigate the negotiation and closing process more effectively and increase the chances of getting the best deal for your business. Remember that the key is to be prepared, be flexible, and communicate effectively with potential buyers. 4. Resources To Help Avoid Common Mistakes When Selling Business When selling a business, you can avoid common mistakes by utilizing your resources.  1. Hire a business broker: Business brokers can help you to navigate the selling process and avoid common mistakes. 2. Seek guidance from a lawyer: A lawyer specializing in business sales can help you understand the sale's legal aspects and avoid mistakes. 3. Read books or articles on business sales: Many books and articles available can provide you with valuable information on how to sell your business and avoid common mistakes. 4. Attend seminars or webinars: Seminars and webinars on business sales can provide valuable information and advice on avoiding common mistakes. Using these resources can avoid common mistakes and increase the chances of getting the best deal for your business. Remember that the key is to be well-informed and seek guidance from professionals with experience in business sales.

[vnbbusiness]

Looking to buy or sell a business? A business broker can be a great asset in these situations. Business brokers specialise in helping buyers and sellers navigate the often-complicated process of finding and transferring ownership of businesses. But who can benefit from hiring a business broker, and when should you start looking for one? Let’s take a look.

When should I hire a business broker?

There are certain scenarios when hiring a business broker is an absolute must. For example, if you are buying or selling an existing business, then working with an experienced broker is essential. A good business broker can help match buyers with the right seller and guide them through the entire purchasing process—from valuation to due diligence to closing the deal. They can also provide valuable information on local market conditions, trends, and regulations that could affect the sale price or terms of the transaction. In addition, if you are starting your own business from scratch, then working with an experienced Long Island business broker may be beneficial as well. They can help you determine your budget and financing options, develop your competitive advantage in the marketplace, find potential customers or suppliers, and create strategies for marketing and promotion. They will also be able to provide solid advice on developing contracts and other legal documents necessary for setting up any new venture.

The cost of working with a business broker

When it comes to cost considerations for working with a business broker, it’s important to understand that there is no single answer that fits all scenarios. Generally speaking, however, most brokers charge either an hourly rate or commission based on the size of the transaction they facilitate. If you are looking to buy or sell a large company, then you should expect to pay more than if you were looking at smaller deals. Additionally, some brokers have minimum fee requirements, so make sure to read their terms carefully before signing anything!

Some tips on how to find a professional and reliable broker

When it comes to finding a professional and reliable broker, it's important to do your research. Finding someone reliable you can trust with your investments is key to successful trading, so don't take the process lightly. Before committing to a broker, check their credentials and qualifications. Make sure they are licenced and regulated by the appropriate authority in your area or country. Additionally, look into their track record, the services they offer, their financial standing, and how long they have been in business. Ask around or read online reviews to get opinions from other customers before taking any further steps. Above all else, only proceed once you're confident that you're dealing with an honest and dependable professional.

Conclusion:

A business broker can provide invaluable assistance and guidance when it comes to buying or selling a business. Depending on their individual specialties and the services they offer, many brokers are particularly well-suited to negotiating deals, finding buyers and sellers, or handling legal documents. It never hurts to consult with them in order to determine how they can help with your particular situation. To ensure that you’re hiring a reputable and trustworthy broker, investigate their past dealings, research reviews of their services online, ask for references if necessary, read contracts thoroughly prior to signing them, and make sure they’re properly insured. If you have any doubts or questions, then consider consulting directly with the professionals at VNB, leading business brokers in New York NY who have years of experience in this highly competitive market. With their expertise and extensive resources at hand, you can rest assured that your needs will be met with the utmost care and attention.

[crimson-rites]

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑹𝒆𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏 𝒐𝒇 𝑪𝒓𝒊𝒎𝒔𝒐𝒏 𝑹𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒔

It’s reworked, redesigned and officially back now! The ask box is open and I am more than happy to take questions about this AU pspspspspspsppsspsps-

The character designs are ready (finally) and I’m excited to be able to share this world in full with you guys now :) 

Character Intros

Part 1

𝑰𝒎𝒑𝒐𝒓𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒕 𝑷𝒐𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒔

The phrase “make a deal with the devil” takes on a whole new and more absolute meaning here. Many humans and members of other species make contracts and pacts with members of the demon species. It is possible to form these agreements with angels as well, they’re just much more picky in regards to stipulations; contracts with demons are more popular for this reason. Demons still make rules surrounding their contracts, they just tend to be a little more lenient. Many still fear for their souls, so the majority of these deals are more calm/domestic in nature. However, it would be a lie to say that nobody has used or would use one of these deals for malicious purposes. Most of these deals, malevolent or not, are made in what’s called “The Underworld of New York” (commonly just called the Underworld by citizens and is an area of Queens) in a place known as the Bottle Eater. Just pray that your name doesn’t come up there outside of your awareness.

An organization that was donned with the name “The Dire Coven” by the citizens of the Underworld serves as an underground highway of supernatural goods beyond even the most creative child’s imagination. Any cryptic device or deadly poison you can come up with, they most likely have. For the right price, that is. They call it the “dire” coven for a reason; the people there forge hope from hopelessness. Different branches of the organization exist, but this AU focuses on the one situated in the Underworld: Styx. The main body of the organization is comprised of four groups: 

Brokers: sell and collect goods

Artificers/Brewers: Create most of what can be found on the market outside of extremely rare items

Entrepreneurs: Often members of higher class society; meant to root the organization higher up but mostly act as eyes and ears 

The Collecter (also called “Founder”): A figure shrouded in mystery whom runs the entire organization; no one has ever seen them face to face, not even Entrepreneurs

The organization has ties to many contract making beings; they provide the goods said beings need to fulfill contracts and the beings make mutually beneficial contracts with them. It’s a win-win. 

𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒔

Now there is one demon that is especially popular when it comes to contract-making, the one they call “The Boogeyman.” Really, it’s the Ink Demon, who goes by Bendy in business affairs. He basically runs the Bottle Eater and resides in the hotel it’s attached to along with many of his other companions. As for the reason why he’s so popular, well, when you hear “ink demon,” you’re not expecting something too scary, right? Most people enter a deal with him because of this; they think he’s less intimidating. Well they sure are wrong.

Alice resides in the Underworld as well with her two sisters, Nyx and Calliope. All were the result of an angel father and demon mother. These siblings are some of the Underworld’s most prominent entertainment figures, holding back to back shows at the Trinity Colosseum. They make for a killer trio, quite literally sometimes-

Joey Drew is the head of the Styx branch and manages nearly all of its internal affairs. Henry Stein, the co-owner, mainly handles the finances and stock. The branch itself is one of the biggest among the many that the Dire Coven has, so it was seen as fitting for it to have two managers. Now, for some of their star employees:

Delilah O’Neal: The leading Entrepreneur of the Styx branch. She’s known for her scary efficiency in regards to intel collection and is unmatched in terms of persuasion.

Anya Morozov: A broker with the most successfully collected goods on record; you could say she’s got a bad case of sticky fingers, but hey, they’re put to good use. Often uses the alias Cheri out on ‘business’; in her words, secrecy is the best policy (can you see the trust issues)

Thomas “Tom” Connor: An artificer who is responsible for some of the most intricate device designs on the market. He was pursuing a career in engineering prior to joining the Dire Coven, and combined with supernatural energy, his machines hold much more potential.

Allison Pendle: Earned herself the title of ‘Head Brewmaster’ due to her creation of 606, a one of a kind potion known for it’s regenerative properties. She works as a medium outside of the Dire Coven, giving her a strong connection to and understanding of the supernatural world and how it functions.

𝑺𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈

So first off, this AU takes place in Queens, New York in 1920 on what I can only describe as a whole other planet earth, not really multiverse style, but I’ll explain. This earth is basically the result of several different dimensions merging into one. As a result, many mythical beings live among humanity (ex; angels, ghouls, demons, sirens, werewolves, fauns). The area this AU takes place in is populated mostly by demons, humans, angels and ghouls. The event that caused this is widely regarded as “The Collision.” The main focus isn’t this event itself, but it’s why this world is what it is. These beings have come into contact with humanity on several occasions throughout history through little blips in the lines between dimensions, this just gave them more permanence on earth. Throughout the world, different landscapes/environments from these overlapping dimensions can be found. The Collision also left three moons in its wake.

note: this is prone to got through some editing overtime so nothing here is set in stone :) it’s really just setting the story and main characters up. there are a few side characters which i’ll introduce along the way as well, but you’ll have to wait a little for them ;)

[the-hinky-panda]

June Bug Series: Chapter 1

Title: June Bug

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Goodie Carangi x OFC!Reader (June)

Summary: You're a business owner that's trying to fly under the radar in Tulsa but that's going to be extremely difficult when you fall for Goodie.

You’re stuck in a rut. A boring, dull, exasperating rut. It’s your third time in the same week coming out to the barn to spend time grooming your ten year old mare, Ruby. It was something you did whenever you needed to get out from behind your desk, out of the four walls of your home. You’re usually not this frequent a visitor to Fennario Ranch and your presence has finally piqued your friend’s interest. 

“If you keep showing up to groom that horse, you’re going to brush her until she’s bald.” 

You stop mid stroke and run a hand over the horse’s coat. “That can happen?” 

Margaret chuckles. “God, no. It was a joke.” 

“Oh.” You go back to brushing Ruby’s flank. “That wasn’t funny.” 

“It was a little funny.” Margaret sits on a tack trunk. “I’m not used to seeing you out here so much in one week. You’re getting dangerously close to running into Cal at some point.” 

“I’m not too worried. Your staff always gives me a heads up when he pulls in.” 

“So you can go hide?” 

“So I can avoid confrontation.” 

“Considering how often you’ve been here this week, maybe some confrontation would be good for you.” 

You flash her a grin over Ruby’s withers. “You just want me to run him off because he’s bugging you now. Wait, aren’t you seeing someone? That guy from New York?” 

Margaret gives you a side eye. “Define ‘seeing.’” 

“Call it whatever you want. He can do your dirty work for you. In fact, I wouldn’t mind seeing Cal have his ass handed to him by some mobster from New York City.” 

“Then maybe you should make friends with him.” 

“What? And have him find out about our little business venture? If he’s really affiliated with the mob then we’ll have to pay a kick-up to him. I already brokered a zero kick-up fee to Kansas City. I don’t want to have to sweet talk my way out of another situation like that.” 

“Alright,” Margaret sips her coffee. “Don’t make friends with him but he does have a guy that works the casino floor that’s from New York as well. He’s your type too.” 

“My type,” you scoff. “And what exactly is that?” 

“Clean cut, good shape, dresses impeccably. He seems personable.” 

Okay, that is your type but you’re going to be damned to let Margaret know she hit the nail on the head. “Sounds boring.” 

Margaret sighs in exasperation. “God, June, come on. You need to get out and have some fun. Loosen the fuck up for a change.” 

You drop the brush back into the tack box and pick up a carrot, snapping it in half before giving it to Ruby. “I’ve been researching through the latest group of men and-” 

Margaret interrupts. “No. No work. Go by yourself. Do something wild and pick someone up.” 

“Oh yeah, a one night stand will solve everything.” 

“Maybe not everything but it’ll take the edge off. You know, let him do all the work for a change.” 

You nod in resignation at your friend and business partner. “Alright. Fine. What’s this guy’s name?” 

Margaret smiles at you. “Ask him yourself.” 

And that is how you end up spending the entire evening at the newly opened Bred 2 Buck Casino and Cabaret. The name kept popping up in your research as an upcoming hot spot in Tulsa and it was also the only place you were guaranteed to not run into your ex-husband. So you pulled out one of your many little black dresses, slipped into a pair of Christian Louboutin pumps and headed to Tulsa’s newest casino.

Some people go to museums to analyze the art, you go to establishments such as this to analyze the patrons. And there were a wide range from out of state high rollers playing black jack and craps to locals who would play $20 on the slots and then go listen to the live music while they sip on mid-shelf whiskey. After making a couple passes through the casino floor and losing fifty bucks on a slot machine just to fit in with the locals, you settle near the end of the bar where you can still hear the house band but the bass doesn’t rattle your martini glass. You’re content to sit in peace but a whiff of expensive cologne alerts you to someone taking the seat next to yours. 

Here we go. 

***

Goodie noticed you the moment you stepped onto the casino floor. You’re dressed in an elegantly cut black dress and expensive heels, your hair is in a sweeping updo with small white flowers tucked into the dark waves. You move around the floor in measured, graceful steps. When you pass behind him at one of the craps tables, he catches the scent of jasmine and cedarwood. Your eyes meet his briefly as you move past the table and he realizes that noticed isn’t a strong enough word. 

Colpo di fulmine. The thunderbolt. 

Fifty-five years old and it happens precisely as his mother predicted it would. No warning, no prelude, nothing. He’s already taken half a step away from the craps table he’s been monitoring to follow you before he comes to his senses. He keeps one eye on the table and one on you as you drift between the gaming tables. You take a seat at one of the slot machines and it strikes him as odd. You don’t seem to be a slots gambler, not with your sense of high style and grace. 

By the time the wannabe oil baron craps out and the pit boss starts to reset the table, you’ve left the casino floor and his heart sinks. He takes a shot and scans the bar and cabaret area and sees you sitting at the bar. The relief he feels is ridiculous but then the nerves return as he approaches you. He can see the small frown, the subtle downturn of your mouth, as he takes the seat at the very end of the bar and the bartender slides him a vodka and lime. 

“You don’t strike me as a slot player.” 

Your eyes scan his face and the frown straightens. “And what kind of player do I strike you as?” 

God, you’re stunning. And that is the proper word because he’s struggling to find his words, his breath. He is properly stunned. But words are his speciality. “Poker.” 

“Poker? Really?” You raise a finely arched eyebrow. “How’s that?” 

“You look like a woman who likes the challenge of reading a room, reading a person.” 

“And you figured this out just by sitting down next to me at the bar?” 

“No, I figured it out by watching you scope out the casino floor. All the craps games were too hot at the moment for you to jump in. Blackjack’s too simple to engage you. Roulette, same. But for the life of me, I can’t figure out why in the world you played the slot machine.” 

“Looks like I’m not the only one who enjoys watching people.” You finally give him a smile and his heart nearly stops. “As for the slot machine, what can I say? I was in the mood for something different tonight. New experience, so to speak.” 

“I get that,” he laughs. “If you can’t tell, I’m not exactly from around here.” 

“No kidding.” There’s a mischievous glint to your eye. “Let me guess, Jersey?” 

He puts a hand to his heart. “Ouch. You wound me.” 

That earns him a soft laugh from you as you pick up the speared olives from your martini. “My apologies. I may have never been to the east coast but a New York accent is very hard to mistake, especially here in Tulsa. But there seems to be an odd influx of youse guys.” 

“That’s not too bad,” he teases. “For someone who’s never been, you’d blend right in.” 

“Well, what can I say,” you look him directly in the eyes, “I like mafia movies.” 

He understands exactly what you’re implying but he’s not sure how to take it. Is this simple flirting? Digging for information? Were you sent by someone? No, it was exceedingly rare that women were sent to deal with family business. But with Chickie’s unstableness recently, he wouldn’t put anything past him. He chooses to proceed as if this were a regular conversation and see where it leads. “Oh yeah. What’s your favorite?” 

“I was an avid Sopranos fan. Never missed an episode.” 

Goodie scoffs. “Sopranos was shit.” 

You actually laugh. “You don't like it because it took place in Jersey.” 

“There was that.” He can feel his phone buzz in his pocket and he knows he has to get back to the casino floor. You notice the dull sound and motion to his suit jacket pocket. 

“It sounds like duty calls and I don’t know your name.” 

He takes out a business card and writes his name and number on the back of it. “To be fair, I don’t know yours either.” 

You take the offered card and narrow your eyes. “Goodie?” 

“It’s a nickname,” he shrugs. “My real name’s Dennis but no one calls me that.” 

That answer satisfies you enough that you return the information. June. Simple, elegant. It fits you. He puts your drink on his tab and heads back to the casino floor. Someone hit big at the blackjack table and needed to cash out their eight thousand dollar winnings. It was a young guy partying with his groomsmen before getting married the next morning. By the time he had handed over the money and saw the very happy groom-to-be out the door, you had already left the premises. Just as he was wondering if you would ever use his number, his phone buzzes again. Pulling it out and wondering what the issue is now, he sees it’s from you. 

The next free night you have, let’s do dinner.  -June

***

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[morbidology]

Breck Bednar was a bright, intelligent, year ten pupil at St. Bedes in Redhill, Surrey. His father, Barry, was a successful City oil trader originally from Houston, Texas, who went on to manage a series of companies, including Rubicon Oil Brokers. Breck’s mother, Lorin LaFave, hailed from Michigan and had previously worked for clothing companies before she became governor and teaching assistant at St. John’s C of E Primary School.

Like many teenagers, Breck found solace and companionship on the internet, immersing himself in online gaming and making new friends. He joined an online community called TeamSpeak after being introduced to it at a church youth group. The platform was similar to Skype, allowing him to play games with his school friends and meet new ones, including two boys named Liam and Tom. Although they attended different schools, they would all chat on the server after classes.

Initially, Breck’s parents believed the online server was a positive thing for him as it fostered socializing and interaction with like-minded individuals. Breck excelled in sports, but it was computers that were his passion and future career. Even as a young boy, he had a deep interest in computers, teaching himself code and building his own gaming computer using components purchased online.

The server was owned and controlled by 18-year-old Lewis Daynes. Breck became close to Daynes and looked up to him. First of all, he was impressed by his extensive computer knowledge. As the relationship grew, Daynes told Breck that he worked as a computer engineer by day and had even worked for the US Defence Department as a hacker and promised Breck great wealth through a fictional software company. According to Lewis, he had ties to the FBI, ran multi-million-pound businesses and owned luxury homes in London and New York City.

In reality, Daynes was unemployed and lived in a flat in Grays, Essex. He had been abandoned by his parents and had spent his childhood and adolescence in and out of foster care. Online, he created this persona as a wealthy and successful entrepreneur and Breck was impressed. He believed that Daynes was living the kind of life that he had dreamed of for himself.

After grooming and manipulating Breck, Daynes did the unthinkable..

𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐞:

[streetlightyeri]

and the old men that i've swindled really did believe i was the one

hope that anon who wanted me to write for Javi is still here cause this idea came to me while I was having my weekly Everything Shower and had evermore playing (she's defrosting guys). here's a peek at one of my many wips, this time based off of cowboy like me. I really like the idea of pre-movie Javi where he kind of doesn't care that he's chasing Riggs for money and is willing to do anything to get his business off the ground, which leads him to high society New York where he meets a girl who kind of doesn't care where the money she spends comes from either. trying not to spoil everything, but I really am enjoying writing this so far! I feel like a lot of my FMCs fall into either the grumpy or sunshine archetype, so this FMC is very fun to bring to life.

please let me know how yall feel about this, I feel like this might not have a great reception since this is pre-redemption arc javi with a morally gray FMC, but im really interested in everyones opinions, good or bad.

as always with my tip posts, unproofread. <3

The rain pattered on the tent above the tennis court where Robert Tomlinson IV’s wedding reception was being held. His wife was dressed in a beautiful silk wedding gown, outdoing all the other women in the venue, as to be expected. But from the moment Javi was introduced to her, he couldn’t even remember what the bride looked like.

A business partner of Riggs grabbed him by the elbow, one too many drinks in, and brought him to a standing table towards the center of the room. “Javier, I’d be delighted for you to meet my date for tonight! I think you two would get along wonderfully.”

The way he said his name, so whitely, irked him a bit. But Javi had no room to say no; insulting this man, no matter how drunk, could put an even deeper strain on his relationship with Riggs. And Javi needed his money. While Javi gathered that most of the men in this layer of society had married up (in the sense they married way down their age), he at least expected someone who matched the man in attractiveness. There was no outward signs that this man, who Javi eventually learned was stock broker Albert Hemingway VI and a distant relative to the Belgian royal crown, was a complete and utter creep, but the jokes he laughed at at the bar and the way his eyes lingered a moment too long on his date’s bust made it clear to Javi he was just like the other men in the room who told said jokes. This man, no matter how sleezy, had money and sway and, evidently, was a man Riggs wanted pinned to his lapels.

“Javier, this is my date, Violet.” That’s how Javi found himself eye to eye with the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. She wore a black silk, floor length gown that he wasn’t sure she’d be able to even sit in, paired with the reddest lipstick he’d ever seen. Her lips were wrapped around a cocktail straw, sipping lightly at the dirty martini in her hand. Her nails were a perfectly manicured nude. And she didn’t seem to care about Javi’s opinion of her at all, if anything, she was judging him. Which was fair in his eyes - he was dressed in his army dress uniform, and who in this walk of life joined the military? He was brushing shoulders with the same people who paid to dodge the Vietnam draft; these were the people whose names were on the buildings and tanks and weapons Javi interacted with every day on base. He had been mistaken as venue staff more than once, empty glasses held out to him by people who didn’t even bother to look away from their conversations.

So, he opted for a tight-lipped smile and nod of acknowledgement for the girl. Her crimson lips pulled into a small smirk. “Hello,” her voice was sultry, a note of an accent that Javi couldn’t place; he just knew that her vowels were wrong, an inkling that she was just as out of place as he was. She just played the part better.

The night proceeded on, Javi’s eyes following Violet the entire time. He had to swerve to avoid glasses and hors d’oeuvre plates being thrust at him. At one point, he accidentally took one as he fixated on the way Violet covered her mouth as she shook her shoulders and crinkled her eyes at one of Hemingway’s jokes; Javi saw the way her mouth stayed stoic behind her hand. Hemingway didn’t look at her long enough to care, instead turning his attention back to his friends. By this point, Violet had abandoned the cocktail straw and downed the rest of her glass when his hand found her waist.

The night continued. Violet was holding her liquor well; Hemingway was not. He was with other men Javi was with at the bar earlier in the night, his forehead connected to the bartop, the other men not far behind. He scanned the crowds, finding her standing outside the coverage of the tent, smoke billowing from her lips. He found himself making his way towards her, the perfectly manicured lawn of the Tomlinson’s Hamptons home squelching under his dress shoes until he made it to the small gazebo she was standing in, alone. It was clear she heard him with the noise his shoes made against the granite floor, but she didn’t turn to look at him. Under the stained glass gazebo, the rain pattered at a more comforting pitch, as though the raindrops were singing to them. A breeze tunneled through the small building. The bottom of her dress was muddied and damp.

“I think you’re in the clear, as far as sleeping with him goes.”

Violet looked at him from the side of her eyes before averting her gaze back to the front. Her voice was coated in that posh accent that he had a feeling wasn’t real. Her Gs weren’t polished and her As extended. “What if I wanted to?”

“Did you?”

She took a long drag before responding to him. “Would you?”

He let a puff of air out from his nose in a humorless laugh. “Would anyone?”

She mimicked him. “He has eight kids.”

Javi’s eyes widened and a real, shocked laugh fell from his lips. “Eight?”

“Yeah, I think he’s hopin’ I can round him out to double digits.” She laughed as well. “He and every other sad, lonely man with too much money on Wall Street.”

From the tent in the distance, a French love song began to play, the live string band increasing their volume, signaling the newlyweds were preparing to depart. A cheer went up by those who were still coherent. Javi repositioned himself, one hand behind his back. He bowed slightly to Violet. “Would you care to dance with me? Have a good moment to remember from this night?”

She tossed the cigarette onto the ground and extinguished it under the toe of her still-wet stiletto. “Dancin’ is a dangerous game, Javier.”

She departed from him, walking back to the tent, no doubt to collect the drunk Hemingway and put him in a limo back across Long Island Sound. He called after her, “It’s Javi.”

She looked back at him over her shoulder, a mischievous grin that Javi couldn’t exactly pinpoint the meaning of. “And it’s not Violet.”

She disappeared into the crowd of people as he gazed down at the extinguished cigarette drenched in red, trying to make out what was her lipstick and what was the moonlight seeping through the red, stained glass rose above him.