Mafia Desire (Erotica)

We passed the rest of the flight with idle chat. I found out she enjoyed video games like I did and even did some twitch streaming, and although neither of us had that much of a love for music, we had a few similar tastes. By the time the flight touched down I wished it was another few hours so I could continue talking to the blonde beauty. But in no time, we were rising from our seats and exiting the cabin. We walked to collect our luggage exited the airport together.

“Well that’s my dad waiting,” She said. Pointing to a middle-aged man wearing sunglasses, standing beside a bright red sports car. He was wearing a tan leather jacket and looked to be in the middle of a mid-life crisis.

“Maybe I’ll see you round?” Abi added. Giving me a small wave.

“Yeah, sure thing. Nice to meet you Abi,” I replied. As she walked to her father, giving the man a big hug. I started kicking myself that I hadn’t asked for her phone number. The chances of me running into her again were slim to none in the city the size of Sydney. I sighed and looked about. I didn’t expect to see my parents, but I was kind of hoping my little sister had come to pick me up-rather than expecting me to get a taxi-but no luck.

I jumped into the first taxi I came across and gave him my home address.

Before long we were in the middle of the hustle and bustle of Sydney traffic. I mostly tuned out the taxi drivers attempts at conversation and the beeps and honks of the Sydney motorists commuting home from work or on their way somewhere. I always found it incredible overwhelming how so many people could be needing to go to so many different places all at the same time-it’s as if the government paid them to just drive around all day and block up the roads. The vehicles stopped being people and more like a piece of the city’s scenery.

I’d never really visited Bondi before and wasn’t too familiar with where the taxi driver was taking me, but it seemed like the longest route possible.

We pulled up to a large apartment complex that read Vanity House. I thought it was appropriately named knowing my mother and father. I checked and rechecked the address quickly before paying the ludicrous fare and leaving the taxi. I approached the buildings main entrance and re-read the email from my mother. I was meant to buzz apartment one and speak to Mike the building manager. Who would give me an access pass and a key, I slung my bag over my shoulder and pressed the buzzer for apartment one, waited a few moments, then pressed it again.

“What?” Said a very irritated sounding man.

“Hi, uh… My name’s Jason, Jason Parks. I’m meant to get a key to my folks place from you,” I replied. Keeping my tone as polite as I could.

“Oh shit! That’s today?” The man replied. “I’ll be right out, just a minute,” he added.Property © of NôvelDrama.Org.

I sat against a low brick wall that lined the walkway to the apartment’s entrance as I waited and flicked through photos of my ex on my phone. I was once again struggling with deleting the photos of my ex and I-some of just her in nothing but a smile. I probably should delete them, but I just hadn’t been able to bring myself to get rid of them yet. Plus, they may come in handy for some spank bank material in the coming days. Although I’d rather just see Abi again.

Before I could get lost daydreaming about the pretty blonde girl I’d met on the plane, the door to the apartment complex burst open with a rush of giggling girls in skimpy bikinis. Behind them was a super tanned man in his thirties wearing nothing but his swim shorts and a pair of sunglasses.

“Alright you lot. I’ll see you ladies down on the beach,” he said to the girls, and they waved back to him before heading off. I stared after them for a minute; the over-abundance of female flesh was a surprise to me.

“Quite a lot ain’t they?” The man said. I looked over to him. His sunglasses sitting on his head as his eyes stared at the retreating backsides of the girls. “Eighteen and sweet,” he added. More to himself.

“Yeah, they were pretty hot,” I replied. Not sure what else to say.

“So, you’re little Jason?” He said. Turning his attention to me. “I’m Mike,” he held his hand out to me. I stood and shook his hand. I’d been known as little Jason through high school since I was much shorter and skinnier than most of the guys in my year. Even though by the time I graduated I had sprouted to six-foot tall-I wasn’t a giant, but it was better than my measly five foot six I’d been through most of high school-the name always stuck since I was still stick thin. That was something I’d also changed since moving away. I’d learned the importance of physical health and worked to keep myself in shape and had quite a healthy diet. I was still a pasty white fucker though; no point in giving myself skin cancer just to look like an older leather handbag, like Mike.

“Yeah, that’s me,” I replied.

“Well come on, I’ll show you the place,” Mike said.

I waited in the hall while he went into his apartment, which sat right next to the main entrance. When he came out, he handed me a key card and a set of keys.

“The card gets you into the building and activates the elevator. Each card is setup to allow tenants to the floor of their apartment only,” Mike instructed.

I followed the super tanned Mike into the elevator, and he pointed to a small black pad beside the door. It was circular and raised off-of the smooth metal that was polished to a mirror finish.

“Just swipe your card over that and the elevator will take you to your floor,” he added.

I held the card in front of the sensor and heard it beep, a small green light flashing as the doors closed and the elevator car started ascending.

“You’re gonna love this place, it’s a real pimp den,” Mike said. A shit eating grin plastered across his face. I already didn’t like the guy; the fact he had a bunch of barely legal teenagers in his apartment and that my sister was living here had me on edge around him already.

“I’m only staying till I find my own place,” I replied.

We continued the rest of the short trip in silence, which suited me fine. The doors opened with a chime and we stepped out into a small hallway. There were two doors other than the elevator. The one to the right was a metal door with an exit sign above it and another on the door signalling the stairs to the building.

“Does that lock?” I asked. Pointing to the fire escape stairs.

“Yeah, the key with the red head opens that, but only people living on the floor get access to the keys for your floor,” he replied.

“Do you have the keys to them?” I asked.

“Yeah, I have to for my job,” he finished. His smile made me a little uneasy.

The other door was a set of double doors with no visible handle. I approached it and looked across the smooth wooden surface for a keyhole but saw nothing; not even a door handle. Then I noticed a keyhole to the right of the doors. I picked out the other key on the keyring, inserted it, and twisted. The doors clicked and swung inwards like something from a James Bond movie. I knew my parents had money, but I didn’t know they would buy something so extravagant; was it to protect them from someone, or was it just a prestige thing? I shrugged and decided that I didn’t really care; I would put up with the over the top security for a short while.

“Well, thanks for showing me the apartment,” I said, turning to Mike. He displayed an annoyed expression; obviously he was expecting me to invite him in-probably for a beer-and to try and get chummy with me while my folks were away. Not going to happen pal, I thought to myself.

“I’ll see you round,” I said, and entered the apartment without waiting for a reply. Inside I saw a button beside the door frame and tapped it. The doors swung closed, a muffled click sounding as the locking mechanism slid into place.

“Okay, that’s pretty fucking cool,” I said to myself.

I turned to take in the apartment’s main room. This one room alone was larger than my whole apartment back home. The entire eastern wall was glass. I saw no curtains and wondered how someone would get some privacy, but being on the top floor, you probably didn’t need much. I looked about and wondered if the apartment took up the entire floor; I’d always known penthouse suites could take entire apartment floors on their own, but I never imagined I would be standing in one, let alone living in one for any period of time. The amount of money my father must have spent on this place would probably make me cry-considering he made me pay for half of my first car. I bet he bought Tori a brand-new convertible for her eighteenth.

Off to my left was a massive kitchen island counter with a gleaming marble top. The oven looked like you could climb inside it and take a nap with room to move, the drawers and cupboard doors were a rich mahogany. All the kitchen appliances were the same solid stainless-steel finish. To my right was a set of modern stylized stairs with no hand railing leading up to a second floor that seemed to just a catwalk of sorts overlooking the living area. Past the kitchen was the living room, which was lower than the rest of the apartment. Two steps that ran the length of the living area lowered whoever walked down them into a carefully laid out entertainment arrangement.

Mounted on the left-hand wall was a flat screen television that I almost took for the actual wall with how huge it was. Facing it was a set of neatly spaced recliners along with a long, curved leather couch that looked like a C. Against the right wall were two monstrous bookshelves lined with leather bound novels all meticulously placed in order of volume and edition-my father was many things but a stupid man he was not. I guess I got my love of reading and learning from him; it definitely wasn’t my mother-who was more of a trophy wife than anything now that I thought about it.

In between the two bookshelves was a wooden bar where decanters, bottles, and glasses were stacked in an orderly fashion. The rich wood glowed and the sunlight streaming in through the open windows glinted off the glass, displaying the rich alcohol in each container. Some of those I bet were worth more than my car. A large, polished wood dining table took up the floor space before the bookcases. Six matching chairs lined each side, with two slightly more regal chairs sat at the head and foot of the table. The décor screamed of my mother’s touch. She seemed to believe herself some sort of royalty.