The Gambinos avoided getting fouled up again by the simple expedient of clubbing the Genovese to the cement.Six to one odds. Better than ten to one bu... now I was woozy, bleeding, and I probably had at least a broken left forearm because the last throw hurt like a motherfucker. I backed up to the bricks again, making sure the Genovese was still unconscious with an absent kick and keeping my eyes on the Gambinos."Fucking Genovese pussies!" the Gambino leader spat, sending his own absent kick at. His face looked like it was sculpted, reminding me a bit of Hugh Dancy. Hating him already, I sort of wanted to touch his face. He didn’t have the rock-hard, chiselled-out-of-marble abs I was expecting, however. A flat stomach curving into hipbones you just really wanted to put your hands on. I caught myself staring, turned to my wife, then caught her staring. We both turned to him again. He was just looking at us, smiling. He walked over. “So, we already spoke on the phone, but it’s so great. She had grown up a privileged child, familiar with high fashion, knowledgeable about food and wine, fine art, music and literature. She also knew that men found her extremely attractive – especially older men. A born tease, she had learned the art of flirting with men at a very young age. When she entered high school, she quickly became well-acquainted with sex, and the power that she held over men who wanted it from her. She never, however, considered the possibility that she would or. Hers were the same color as the animals which had provided the fibers, dull browns, grays, tans and blacks. Her mother and grandmother had avoided sharp boundarys between the colors when they wove, so she would fade into the rocks better. They knew she would be out here on the caravan route tending the part of the flock they had for barter with the passing traders, who could barely find forage for their own pack animals, the strange double humped camels so unlike those that were found in wild.
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