Armored by S. W. Frank Page B

love...
    Tiffany’s arm went out to grab hold of the rack as he rocked within her as if pumping on a swing. His mouth sucked her neck when he rose high and she sunk with him on the descent, gripping like a gymnast the overhead bar filled with her clothes. She moaned loudly when masculine hands rolled her buttocks and he sang in her ear a lullaby during sex, “ She's got a fine sense of humor when I'm feeling low down, and when I come home to her when the sun goes down
    She takes away my troubles, takes away my grief ,
    Takes away my heartache in the night like a thief ...
    Tiffany’s hand moistened. Perspiration trickled from the nape of her neck and went on a water slide using her spine. She pushed backward to find herself thrust forward and her mind cleared away everything but his voice as he fucked her good.
    “ Yes I need her in the daytime, Yes I need her in the night, I want to throw my arms around her to kiss her, hug her tight…and when I'm returning from so far away she gives me such sweet lovin' brightens up my day, and makes me righteous…makes me whole…makes me mellow down to my soul.”
    Tony had a nice voice. The man sang. He could’ve screwed her until her pussy fell off with his fine ass, Tiffany smiled. She danced all right, all over his thighs like a shameless stripper in an erotica novel. When he stopped singing, made a choking sound, she knew he had peaked and that’s when her love came down.
    “What’s taking you so long finding a camera…?” The woman stepped backward when she realized she had interrupted an intimate moment.
    Tony growled. “Goddamn, in my own home I can’t even fuck without you barging in!”
    Tiffany was mortified. Tony’s mama was the most classless person she’d ever met. The woman didn’t have an ounce of respect for anyone or their privacy. Oh, their day of ‘ bonding’ at the spa had been a series of embarrassments. That lady brought drama everywhere they went. From the steam room to the mud bath elicited a complaint. She even cussed at the workers, yes she did. The ghetto heffa treated people like garbage, why? Because the masseuse asked her to remove her bra before she began.
    She hurried around Tony as he pulled up his trousers. Tiffany decided she wasn’t going to intervene, nope. Whatever he said to that woman, she needed to hear.
    Tiffany went straight to the bathroom to freshen up, and then seized the camera from the dresser as Tony gave his mama a good talking to.
    Ari held on to Nico’s shoulders as they danced to the slow song. She smiled knowingly when Tiffany reappeared among the guests. Her hair was somewhat tousled, she smoothed her dress self-consciously with an ‘um that was a damn good quickie’ expression. Ari recognized the look all too well. She and Nico invented the thing.
    Most of the people in the room were close friends or family of Tiffany’s. Several sorority sisters and their significant others had traveled to share in the intimate celebration along with two of her cousins. Tony’s relatives were the obnoxious folks who inquired about the cost of the seared pork cutlets on ginger infused silver beet with Moroccan cous cous served on fine china. They fingered the meat and talked with their mouths full instead of chewing and using napkins. Nico didn’t give a shit about any of that, neither did Ari, they came to eat, dance and drink.
    “So how you know my son?” Tony’s mama asked Nico as he opted for water in lieu of wine. He let his wife drink for the both of them.
    Nico put his glass down. “We work together.”
    Tiffany held her breath, hoping Nico didn’t say anything to scare anyone.
    “Yeah, and what exactly does my son do?”
    “He’s in charge of security for Palazzo Enterprises.”
    “You mean he works for that fella in Forbes?” Uncle Willy asked spitting as he talked. “The Concrete Don…something or other…people keep sayings a crook. He does look like a crook.”
    Nico laughed. “What does a crook look