Cricket Vaughn and the Don - Part One - Sex Stories

Cricket Vaughn and the Don - Part One

Stephano Santangelo didn't look like a typical mafia don. It was one of the reasons he maintained his empire and had never been targeted by the Feds. To look at Stevie, you'd think he was an easy-going everyday Joe, a small businessman, a guy just trying to make a living, a regular guy. In many ways he was just that, except his financial interests, such as they were, operated on the questionable side of the legality of his environs. He was a man without qualms. He was a man at peace with himself. A guy wants to bet on a number or on a horse, what harm? You favor one basketball team over another, so what? Wanna play cards for money? All things are possible and he could accommodate. He never got into the whores or the dope. Never had to. A dapper and well dressed man, he delighted in simple pleasures, his house, his garden, good food, fine wine and an accompanying cigar... His position meant that he chose his friends wisely and seldom; he would never have admitted to being lonely, but perhaps he was. He would be 59 this year, Joan would have been 60. But his wife hadn't seen even the 59, breast cancer. Never smoked a fucking cigarette in her life. Go figure. Stephano was 5' 8” and weighed around two hundred pounds. He was in good physical condition. He had a lot of stress in his life and exercised to cope. His green eyes and salt and pepper hair suited him, boyish smile and dark bedroom eyes. He was a very attractive man. Since losing his wife though he was very lonely. Joan ...

... his wife was his only real love. He was faithful to her till the very end. Women were always flocking around him, but he never gave them the time of day. Never had. Although he flirted and well, his only real love was that of his wife. Although, she had been gone now for the past three years. He was really hoping to retire soon. He just was tired of being in the game. There was just so much stress and he had made a fortune and just wanted to relax and enjoy his money. He was a real family man. He was very close with his daughter, Pauline and his son Johnnie. Maybe not close enough. His daughter Pauline worked as a public defender in Quantock County in West Virginia. Her twin, Johnnie Paul, was a magazine publisher in NYC. They exchanged Christmas and birthday cards with him. He followed their careers with a distant pride, hers in the newspapers, JP's in the gossip columns. Today, he was meeting with his accountant, Larry Ivanov, and his right-hand guy, Carlo Zitti. "So, RIGHT NOW, if you're looking at retirement, it's about 12 million dollars give or take about forty bucks," explained Ivanov. "You're a rich man, Stevie, you wanna go, go now." Don Stephano drew on his cigar. "Thank you, Larry... I think it's time. Put it on paper, the car's downstairs." He moved to kiss the accountant on both cheeks, smiling at Carlo as the Russian winced. Ivanov departed. Carlo Zitti joined his boss in a Henessey brandy as both men relaxed now. "There's a thing..." "What fucking THING?" snarled ...