Date: Wed, 07 Mar 2001 03:12:24 -0300 From: Danny Oliver Subject: Changes 1 Warning: This is a work of fiction. This is not based in real facts in any way. This story may portray sexual acts between a man and a minor boy. If that subject offends you or if you underage just stop reading it. If you are looking for a story with sex descriptions every paragraph, this one is not what you're looking for. The author copyrights this story. You may place it in any appropriate archive or website as long as they are free of charge. Please, do not alter the story in any way. I hope you appreciate my efforts in writing this story. I am not a native speaker of English so I apologize for any mistakes. Any comments are very welcome at baretta669@hotmail.com. Flames will be ignored. Foreword: This story is dedicated to Teglin, who encouraged me to write. Check out his stories "Three Weeks To Heaven" and "Why Not Me". Changes By Danny Oliver Chapter One: My name is Tony Figueroa. I'm a very successful mobster. I come from a family that used to live in Italy, Sicily of course. After my father died from a stomach cancer I took over the family business. By then, I was 18. I was very close to my father and he always taught me the tricks of the business. I'm considered a very clever person. I was the perfect person to keep the family business running pretty well because besides my intelligence, there was also the fact that I - much like my dad - never had any problems in having people killed or even killing them myself. I was not merciful with my enemies and also much like my father I believed that honor is an invaluably precious matter. You respect me and I'll respect you. You fuck with me and I'll fuck you back twice. As the boss of the family, now I had to run all the activities like drug dealing, illegal gambling tables, cars theft and some other things. Of course, I didn't do it myself; I had trustful guys to help me with those tasks. Vince Vega was one of them. In our ranking he came just below myself. He's been working for the family for about ten years. I'm pretty sure he would die for the family or for me. Anyway, he took care of the drug part and collected the money from the pitiful junkies. We were a very respected family in NY, perhaps the most of all. Now it's been four years since my father has gone. I was already used to run things. That's all I do, all day long, day after day. My time was fully devoted to our business. Well, now that you know a few things about me and the family, it's time to tell you the next part. What happened in one day that didn't look any different from the others in any way. We had a meeting in this warehouse where we used to make the gambling. We had two "political" poker tables. That's how we called them, "political". You gotta have at least ten grand just to sit at those tables. Mostly the game played was Canadian Poker. Only very wealthy guys went there. Usually, they were old, some old politicians, drug dealers, pimps, and even some well-succeeded doctors. We also had a blackjack table, but the poker games were the best for sure. Sometimes they took from 10 pm to 10 am. We used to collect about seventy grand per night. That was a fucking money fountain. In that warehouse there was also an office where I used to stay most of the time during the games. There was an old classic XVIII century cedar desk and also a leather couch where I took short naps. That day I was on my desk counting some money from the just finished game. It was 9 am and I was dying to go home and get some real sleep. That night was profitable indeed, almost a hundred thousand dollars income. Fabulous! I was really happy on how successful we were being. When my father ran things, we had only one political table. Anyway, I was finishing counting the money when someone knocked the door. "It's me," Vince called from outside. "Come in, it's open." "Hey, how did we do tonight," he asked knowing the answer by my smile. "Fucking great! More than a hundred grand." "That's great news! The sky is no limit for us, man," he grinned. "Indeed." "Dr. Pierre is asking for another five grand loan." "Another one? What is it, the sixth?" "Seventh," Vince answered with a smirk. "You don't have to ask me for that, you can make the loan business yourself, you know." "Yeah, but do you think he's going to pay us?" "If he doesn't want to die, yes he will, and I know the fucker has two cars that would probably worth ninety grand combined. He can use those to pay us. Just remind the son of a bitch that he'll have two weeks to refund us." "Yeah, anyway, that's not why I'm here. Someone wants to see you." "Who?" "I don't know, it's some guy who wants to sell you something," Vince said. "Don't worry, we've already checked him. He's clean," he added. "Ok, send him in." Vince turned and left the office. I was expecting someone would want to sell me some dope for a cheaper price. It wasn't really unusual. 'It smells like profit' I grinned to myself. A few minutes later, Vince entered the office again, now with a man about my height (5'9) with a goatee and short dark hair. He was probably in his late thirties. "This is Mason Beal," Vince said introducing the guy. I got up my chair and we shook hands. "Tony Figueroa," I said. "How can I help you, Mr. Beal?" "I was wondering if we could talk in private?" I gestured for Vince to leave the room and so he did. "Have a sit, please." "Thank you," He answered sitting down. "Can I offer you a cigar?" "No, thank you. I don't smoke," He answered. "So Mr. Beal, my friend tells me you want to sell me something." "Well, I don't know if you are used to it and I'm not sure if you'll be interested at all but I thought: what the hell, worth trying." A slight nod was my answer. "Don't rush telling me your answer, think before doing it." "C'mon Mr. Beal, let's cut to the chase, I don't have all day. What you've got there for me?" I asked a little rudely. All that mystery was annoying me and after all, I wanted to go home. "It's a boy," he answered looking me in the eyes as if trying to check my reaction. Honestly, I wasn't expecting that. So I didn't answer promptly but what was I supposed to do with a boy? I was still thinking on what to say when he interrupted my thoughts. "Uh... He's with me. You should, you know, take a look at him before answering." I could feel he was a bit nervous. I just nodded and he got up of the chair and opened the office's door. I could see Vince outside he looked at me to make sure it was all right and I nodded back. Mason beckoned to someone outside that I couldn't see. I lit a cigar and when I looked up again I was just stunned at the sight I was beholding. Standing beside Mason was the most beautiful boy I've ever seen. Mason had one arm in one of the boy's shoulders. The boy was probably twelve, thirteen tops, I guessed. I was agape I tell you. When Mason told me 'a boy' I thought about someone who would be at least seventeen. Probably someone to work for me, but I wasn't ready for that. -- More soon. Comments are appreciated and may be sent for baretta669@hotmail.com. Flames will be ignored.