Player's Ultimatum by Koko Brown

could pile-drive a box of nails. He hadn’t had a hard on like this since he was a kid.

    An hour and one long, cold shower later Paolo pulled his black Bentley into traffic.
    He barely made it three blocks before his cel phone rang.
    “ Signor Saito ,” a gravel y voice rumbled through the other end.
    “ Chi è questo ?” Paulo asked, answering in perfect Italian.
    “This is Malfi. I tried cal ing you at home but your butler told me you were out.”
    “What do you want?” Paulo bit out, unable to keep the growing impatience from his voice. He needed to get laid! Yvonne Floyd had him tied in knots.

    “Gutierrez.” Malfi paused for dramatic effect. For goodness sake, the man had taken his job too seriously. At times he felt the Malfi actual y thought this was some game of intrigue.
    “What about him?” Paulo sighed unable to escape his nemesis.
    “I toured his vil a this morning and took pictures of him and his fiancée for an upcoming pictorial for Arrivederci magazine.”
    “And?” Paulo asked trying to keep his voice calm. Shifting the gears violently, he changed lanes.
    “Other than the man is a clothes horse with a shirt in every color of the rainbow. A regular Valentino he is,” Malfi chuckled.
    His humor wasn’t shared by Paolo.
    Malfi continued hurriedly, “I did notice something of interest. When Bracci went to look in the master bedroom’s second closet, they dragged her downstairs.
    Once alone, I took a look and there was nothing there.”
    Paolo almost pitched his cel phone out of the window. “You called me about an empty closet?”
    “An empty closet proves they do not share a room together. The woman is nothing but a red herring to divert the media’s attention away from the rumors.”
    Now it was Paulo’s turn to laugh. “Don’t be sil y. No one would go to such lengths. I’ve got to go. I don’t like to talk on the phone while I’m driving. Find something else to dig up Malfi, c iao .” Paulo hung up, but didn’t set his cel down. He scrolled through the directory in search of a possible companion for the evening. From beginning to end, Paolo found no one who caught his interest. His fondness for the beautiful, tal and unat ached had suddenly paled to a very much taken dark-haired, brown-skinned vixen.

    *****
    “Did you make sure you packed the kitchen sink?”

    Yvonne glanced at the three Louis Vuitton bags at the bot om of the stairs. They were only going on a three-day holiday to Venice, but Robbie had packed enough clothes for a month.
    Robbie looked down at the bags and cocked his head. “I’m still deciding on whether or not to pack that along with my black leather skinny jeans.”

    Yvonne rolled her eyes. She might look high maintenance, but she was stil plain ole’ Yvonne Floyd underneath the fashionable clothes. Thus the reason why she’d only packed a change of clothes for every day and managed to fit them into one hanging bag.
    “The car’s here to take us to the airport, so you’re going to have to leave both of them behind.” Robbie snapped his fingers. “Damn! The double sink would have looked so good with my Lost Sheep costume.” Yvonne cringed. A self-professed diva, Robbie had taken the lead and with Lit le Bow Peep as his theme, he’d chosen their matching outfits for Matteo’s masked bal . For her, he’d selected a white frock with a pound of crinoline that made the abbreviated skirt flare out from her waist. The only thing, which kept her from being arrested for indecent exposure was a pair of white hot pants he bought to go underneath.
    He completed the costume with a bonnet, white face mask called a bauta , shepherd’s staff and thigh high stilet o boots. She would be the naughty version of every child’s favorite shepherdess.
    Robbie on the other hand would be International Male’s version of a lost sheep in a pair of buttery suede pants which laced up the front and shameful y emphasized his manhood. The custom-fitted pants were so tight