Pillow Talk Ch. 07

Vinnie gripped Michelle by the hips and she began to ride him, slowly at first, stopping now and then to lower her face to his so they could kiss passionately whilst his throbbing cock was buried deep inside her. Michelle slowly increased the tempo and as Michelle rode him he held on to her hips and rose up and thrust into her as she impaled herself on his hard, thick cock.

Vinnie pounded away at Michelle as she rose and lowered her buttocks to meet his thrusts. She lowered her face to his and they gasped and groaned into each other’s mouths, their tongues entwined and their teeth occasionally cracked together with the ferocity of the sex. Vinnie had managed to shuck off his shirt and Michelle raked his chest with her nails.

The fucking became a frenzy, Vinnie jack-hammered his cock in and out Michelle’s tight anus and Michelle, impaled on Vinnie’s hard throbbing cock, clung to him and wriggled and shook her buttocks. She thrust her hips down to match his strokes ensuring his full length penetrated her slick anal sheath.

Michelle felt her orgasm approaching as Vinnie howled and moaned with the rush of his own climax. Michelle felt Vinnie’s cock convulse deep inside her as he filled her with his hot seed. Michelle’s cock was erect and rubbing against Vinnie’s stomach through the flimsy material of her panties as Vinnie savagely fucked her. The pressure and friction induced Michelle’s own climax and she groaned in ecstasy as she flooded her panties with hot semen. Vinnie’s cock pounded in and out of her anus further stimulating her and she was wracked by one of the most intense orgasm that she had ever experienced.

Vinnie’s thrusting slowed down as his orgasm subsided until eventually Michelle lay still on top of him with his slowly deflating penis buried in her anus. They continued to kiss and caress each other until Vinnie finally broke the kiss and smiled up at her.

“Ok doll; let’s get down to business,” Vinnie pushed Michelle off him.

He got dressed and put his gun back in his pants and grinned at Nicky who was drinking a tumbler of bourbon and smoking a cigarette. He was tenting his trousers.

“Again?” Vinnie pointed to the bulge in Nicky’s pants.

“Again,” Nicky grinned back at his accomplice.

“I wanna fuck her after we tie her up. That will be kinky,” Nicky chuckled.

“Let’s get the money before we do anything else,” Vinnie said, tucking in his shirt.

Michelle had cleaned herself up and had adjusted her clothing. She was applying lipstick, holding a compact mirror to her face.

“Ok doll-face; open the safe,” Vinnie instructed.

This was where Michelle was concerned that if anything was going to go wrong; it would. As soon as she opened the safe, she was effectively no longer of any great value to Vinnie and Nicky but she was confident that they kinda liked her now. Also they didn’t want to miss the opportunity to shame Frankie by letting it be known that they had fucked his goomah.

Michelle spun the dials and opened the big safe. Vinnie pushed her out of the way and whooped with delight when he saw the piles of cash.

“Pass me the bags Nicky,” Nicky passed over the canvas bags they had bought to take away the cash.

They filled the two heavy bags and closed them.

“Ok. We count the cash down at Toyland’s Social Club, give Rusty Rastelli his tribute and split the remainder three ways,” Vinnie said.

“You trust us don’t you babe?” Nicky pulled Michelle into his arms.

“You’re about to tie me up and fuck me again so I better,” Michelle smiled and leaned into Nicky and kissed him, locking her arms around his neck.

“But I don’t trust you! You fucking doublecrossing puttana!” Frankie growled.

Frank Caputo was standing at the door with his pistol drawn.

“It’s not what you think!” Michelle pleaded.

But it was too late.

Vinnie reached for his gun and Frankie shot him through the heart. Nicky flung Michelle aside so that he could get to his own weapon but he didn’t stand a chance and Frankie shot him twice in the face.

Frankie stepped into the office and poked at the corpses of Vinnie and Nicky with the toe of his boot to make sure they were dead.

Michelle lay on the floor sobbing, awaiting her fate. She could hear footsteps pounding up the stairs, most likely the FBI but they would be too late to save her.

“Why Michelle? Why?” tears were rolling down Frankie's cheeks.

Michelle instinctively curled up in ball and put her hands over her face as Frankie stood over her, pointing his pistol at her.

“Drop the gun Frankie,” Michelle heard an FBI agent shout.

Michelle heard two gunshots in rapid succession, and then a moment of searing pain before darkness engulfed her.

Michelle woke up in a hospital bed with drips in her arms and bandages around her chest. A machine beside her bed was monitoring her vital signs. A nurse came in and took the chart from the bottom of her bed and made a few entries on it. She refused to answer any of Michelle’s questions.

The nurse picked up the handset on the bedside table.

“She’s awake and talking,” the nurse said and hung up the phone.

“Fuck you too,” Michelle called after the nurse as she left the room.

“Well if it isn’t Tweedle Dum and Tweedle Dumber?” Michelle winced with pain as the two FBI agents who had initially sent her undercover entered the room.

“Your fucking so called surveillance team left me out to dry,” Michelle struggled to sit up.

“You’re still alive aren’t you?” the black agent replied pulling up a seat.

“Frankie?” Michelle asked; and the white agent slowly shook his head.

Michelle teared up. What she had with Frankie was far from love but there was certainly affection.

“Hey don’t cry. You did good, the Bonanno Family are in a state of civil war split down the middle between the followers of Rusty Rastelli and those loyal to Lilo Galante. That fuck Galante and his goombahs are holed up at his Toyland Social Club where we are hearing everything they say on the wiretap,” Black said.

“And with all the other intel you got for us while you were working for Frankie, we have a whole new insight as to how the five families are doing business,” White grinned.

“And me?” Michelle asked.

“Well…We are going to have to renege on our deal I’m afraid. Corrupt as New York’s finest are, some flatfoot will undoubtedly give you up if you go back working for the NYPD,” White explained.

“So looks like it’s Witsec for you. Even though you’re police, that won’t protect you from the mob if they find out what you have done,” Black elucidated.

“So where you wanna go Mitch?” Black grinned.

“Don’t call me that! Mitchell Clooney is dead. I’m going to keep my feminine persona and my first name. Let me think about it and I’ll get back to you,” Michelle replied.

“Well don’t think about it too long toots because as soon as you can travel we’re handing you over to the US Marshals and it’s gone baby, gone for Michelle Clooney,” Black replied and pulled back his chair.

Black and White left the hospital room and Michelle never saw them again.

In the fall of 1980, Detective First Grade Linda Gordon was off duty and lined up outside of the legendary nightclub CBGB hoping to get inside to see Blondie perform. She was wearing a white spandex miniskirt, a lace-sleeved bustier top, opaque black pantyhose and white spiked heels. Her hair was styled in a bouffant that took nearly a whole can of hairspray to hold in place and her heavy makeup was bright and bold. She had accessorised with large faux gold earrings and matching necklace and bangles.

She chewed gum and chainsmoked, hoping against hope that she would get to the front of the line before the concert started.

Linda looked on jealously as a large white stretch limousine with heavily tinted windows glided up to the curb. A black chauffeur in full livery got out of the car and opened the curbside passenger door.

A pair of long, elegant legs clad in sheer black pantyhose and gold high-heeled sandals swung out of the car followed by a curvaceous tall woman wearing a leopard-skin body-sheath that was split from ankle to hip on one side. Her firm pert breasts were openly displayed by the low-cut bodice; her blonde shoulder-length hair was crinkle styled, her makeup heavy but perfect and the gold jewellery that she was wearing was definitely not faux.

Linda was surprised when the woman looked her way and then started walking towards her. The woman reached out and audaciously took Linda’s hand.

“Come on honey; let’s not stand out here with the riff-raff,” she said with a sultry sexy voice, leading Linda to the entrance of CBGB.

The doorman lifted the red rope and nodded at the woman with deference.

An inkling of cognisance crossed Linda’s mind as she and the woman were escorted to a booth near the front of the club.

“I know you, don’t I?” Linda searched the woman’s face.

“Oh my fucking god! It’s you! It’s Michelle!” Linda screamed.

“Yes darling it’s me, Michelle Lawrence, formally Michelle Clooney and before that…well never mind,” Michelle grinned.

An ice bucket with a bottle of Moet and Chandon appeared and glasses were filled. Linda had to yell over the noise.

“What the fuck?” Linda circled a finger at Michelle’s body and looking questioningly at her.

“It’s a long and fascinating story,” Michelle grinned over her champagne.

“Well first off; they are real right?” Linda waved her champagne glass in the direction of Michelle’s breasts.

“The best money can buy girl,” Michelle grinned.

“What about?” Linda stared fixedly downward.

“Oh no honey I kept that. I could have had it, shall we say re-purposed, but I’m still attached to it,” Michelle laughed and Linda couldn’t help but join in.

“Come on Michelle…what about…everything?” Linda laughed but she obviously wanted to know what happened to Michelle.

“Ok well here is the potted history babe. First off I elected to keep my female persona and the Federal Government was kind enough to provide me with female identification documents under my new name,” Michelle began.

“I went into Witsec in San Francisco where the US Marshall Service thought my ‘type’ would be better accepted.”

“Then the surgeries. One after the other and some quite painful. I got these first,” Michelle hefted her breasts.

“Then a bit of facial feminisation, which also altered my appearance somewhat, then voice feminisation and a tracheal shave; whilst at the same time taking female hormones.”

“What you see before you took me over two years to put together along with some diet and exercise,” Michelle sipped her drink and winked at Linda.

“But who paid for all that? Surely the Feebs or the Marshals wouldn’t have funded any of it?” Linda was incredulous.

“Honey, remember the fate of Irene Valasso?” Michelle lit a cigarette and offered one to Linda.

Linda nodded.

“Frankie clipped her for skimming from the Club. So I checked out the books and with a bit of help I found out how she did it. I did it better,” Michelle grinned.

“Fuck! You skimmed Frankie's takings?” Linda was slack-jawed.

“Everything he put in the safe I took a piece of. Those FBI fuckers had me undercover sucking dick and fucking that gangster for over a year. Did you think that they had any intention of looking after me when I came out?” Michelle blew smoke at the ceiling.

“Those fuckers would have been happy to stick me in Bumfuck Idaho dusting library books or something, just so they could forget about me.”

“But darling you look so fabulous. You’re so confident and feminine. Fuck I’m envious of you,” Linda grinned.

“Honey I have my own fashion house now. I have to be confident,” Michelle responded.

Linda looked at Michelle sceptically.

“I’m making a fortune on the West Coast and I’m in New York to open a store here,” Michelle continued.

“But what about Witsec?” Linda asked hesitantly.

“Oh fuck Witsec! I blew that off right after my surgeries,” Michelle scoffed.

“Besides, Carmine Galante got whacked last year so who’s looking for me now; even if they knew who I was?” Michelle waved her hand.

“Now if you can excuse me honey I’m here to meet my business partner and she’s just arrived.”

Michelle stood and waved to a stunning looking woman who was winding her way through the crowd.

Rita Cordova waved back.

The End

Author’s note: Some of the characters and events in this story are factual regarding the NYPD and the New York Mafia during 1970s. The main characters are works of my own imagination.

Michele Nylons, September 2018