From Manhattan

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The gods of handsome men were generous that day by handing him double helpings of everything that is perfection.

His lips are full and cold at the same time. He can charm and destroy with his mouth alone and I wish either trait put me off him but it doesn’t.
I suppose that makes me incredibly foolish.
Add to that his confidence and it makes Dominic Dragna the most handsome man in Manhattan. It oozes out of him like steam from a street grate. His walk is power and money and so much danger that anyone looking at him knows they’re taking a risk by glancing at him too long. His steps are always fluidly sure.
He looks great in power suits and casual-wear. He’s friendly and aloof with enough secrecy to make the Vatican jealous.
Before I lost my parents, I was a practicing catholic. I believed in Him and attended church and not only for the big holidays. I would have always noticed Dominic—faith or not. The devil demands attention in whatever guise he walks in and I would have been drawn to him instantly.
He makes me think in wicked … sinful and Godly thoughts and I don’t have the power to repel them or him. I’m attracted to Dominic like any monster is to their overlord master.
Late at night I wonder where that kiss would have taken us. I spend way too much time thinking … fantasizing about the way he held me by the throat, stroking my skin and then I wonder how he’d feel touching other parts of my body.
With a hard swallow, I ask. “What can I do for you, boss-man?”
I thought I was putting distance between us by calling him that. Maybe it would piss him off. Instead it had the opposite effect and he loved it.
It’s easy to pretend when I look at his eyes and see the flickering flames in their depths. It’s easy to pretend I’m simply talking to the man who puts money in my pocket… in a non-skeevy way.
He’s the boss. He’s my boss. End of story.



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