by Susannah Indigo
(4/25/01)
"It's about people who lie to themselves every day."
--James Gandolfini ,
on what "The Sopranos" show is all about.
"Lie to me, Tony."
He sits up and looks away from me, squinting into the sun. "All right. I love you."
"Not that lie," I say, laughing, climbing onto his lap, straddling him with my bare legs, my bikini long ago tossed aside. We're the only two people on this abandoned beach and clothes seem silly since all I want to do is fuck until the sun goes down.
"What lie? You want me to tell you the check's in the mail?" He kisses me, an honest kiss that reaches right down to my toes, and then he props himself back on his elbows to watch me with that knowing, sly sexual look that makes even good girls melt on Sunday nights.
"You know, Tony. Tell me you won't do it anymore."
He shrugs and runs his big hands through my long black hair. "It's my business, baby." He starts to get down to business on my nipples, stroking and pinching them until I almost forget who I am and that I've only known him for 48 hours since I literally tripped across him in the sand. It was the best fall of my life -- I've fallen more than once for a dominant man who needed to be saved, but this one is my fantasy come true.
He talked dangerously to me that first morning as we hid under his big blanket, exploring. "Whack me off, baby," he whispered, and I did, eager to touch and to please. We drank for a while and then we had more sex on the beach and it seemed like it lasted from here to eternity.
"Business, yes, but you have to put it behind you," I tell him now.
"I'll get behind you and mean business, baby," is all he says as he leads me to a nearby log and bends me over and fucks me the way every woman wants to be fucked by this man -- hard and from behind, driving me over the edge with his force.
"I won't come inside you," he whispers at the final moment, but we both know that it's not true.
"Nobody else exists for us," he says as we lie wrapped around each other back on the blanket. "No families, no problems, no stress."
"Yes," I say sleepily, content in his arms. "Nothing for me but you, Tony."
"Truth?"
"No." He knows that I'm sad, and that I'm here on my last dime because I lost both my job and my lover in one very bad week back home.
"A dare instead," he says. "Show up tonight at eight at the cabana party wearing just a white halter dress, with nothing underneath, and then do everything I tell you to do until midnight."
"Like Cinderella?"
"Sort of."
"You're on, Tony."
"Bada bing, baby."
But it's not a strip club by a long shot -- it's a lovely beach cabana, complete with private bar, a reggae band, and free flowing bottles of red, red wine. There are about twenty guys who look like they've seen everything there is to see, at least until the cannelloni arrives, followed by me.
I wear my pure white halter dress that barely covers my breasts, white lace up sandals, my newly-acquired deep tan, and nothing else.
"It's Sandy's birthday," Tony says to the guys after dinner.
It's not my name, and it's not my birthday.
"And she likes to be spanked."
No lie.
The guys line up as Tony bends me across his lap and lifts the skirt of my dress up to my waist, baring my ass.
"These are my hit men, baby -- feel how good they are."
My ass grows warmer with each spank until I am lost in the slaps and wish I were a thousand years old so that it would go on forever.
"Sandy used to be a dancer at the Moulin Rouge," Tony tells the guys later when he has me posed prettily atop the bar.
The worst one so far -- who would believe it?
"The richest men in the world paid thousands of dollars just to watch her dance with her skirt lifted."
The truth sometimes shifts -- perhaps I've just covered up this part of my life. The boys are stacking cash in front of Tony and I'm thinking he can lie with me any way he wants.
I twirl. I tease, and the band begins again. I can-can, because I can. I flash them everything I've got and thank God for my Brazilian wax that makes my pussy look like a little girl's, which drives men crazy. I slow down and wrap my legs around Tony's neck and tease him to come up and dance with me. I get him up dancing on the bar with me, and the stack of cash almost doubles. Tony can bust a move. He's holding me from behind while I swivel my hips and he's not fucking me but he might as well be.
"OK, I'll lie to you, baby," he whispers in my ear while he's holding me. "You're too hot to resist."
"Really?"
"No. But I promise anyway. No more made men in my life. And no more women made, like you said."
His hands are in my hair and I'm taking off his shirt and I see that the boys are filing out respectfully, until it is only us left, dancing in the dark. I slip off my dress and raise a toast to the boss, to the truth, and to the magic of the night air. Then I lead Tony out to the beach to swim with the fishies, and me.
