My First Time with the Mafia Boss’s Sister in the Office

Present Day – New York – the home of the Thompson family

Officer Miller

The call had come from a woman. Mrs. Megan Thompson and her sister had directed us to the office when we arrived. Once the ambulance crew had guided them outside to be cared for, we went to assess the situation. I held my gun in both hands. I eased the office door open with my foot. The stench of blood hit me right away.

My partner stepped in behind me. He swept his gun around the other side of the room. The office was empty except for three bodies on the floor. One lay behind the large dark wood desk. Two lay in front of it. I holstered my gun. I recognized the Don of the Thompson family, his son, and the head of security from the Garcia clan. I moved slowly toward them. They’d been shot, but not in a hail of bullets. Three clean shots to the head. Each body rested in its own pool of blood. I knew they were dead, yet protocol said I still had to check for signs of life. The bodies were warm.

Attic Discovery

“The rest of the house is empty,” a rookie said from the doorway. I gave him a nod. We needed to secure the bodies and the scene. A loud thud from the upper floors made us all freeze.

“I thought you checked the house,” I said to the rookie.

“We did. Every room. There was no one.”

We pulled out our weapons. I led the way. My partner came up beside me as we climbed the wide staircase. We passed open bedroom doors. Signs of occupation showed, but no one was there. At the top of the stairs I turned with my gun aimed at the floor ahead. The sound seemed to have come from the attic. I moved toward the stairs and crept up slowly. A soft glow helped me see.

A woman in an elaborate white dress sat on an old couch. She stared into the middle distance. The end of her gown looked soaked in blood. She held a gun pointed upward toward her chin. I gestured for my partner to stay downstairs. I tried to recall any suicide negotiation training. Today, according to the newspapers, she had become the wife of one of the dead men in the office. The other two men were her father and brother. She was Ashley Thompson Garcia.

“Mrs. Garcia, my name is Officer Sarah Miller, NYPD. I need you to slowly put down the weapon. Keep your hands where I can see them,” I said softly but firmly. Her gun was primed. Her finger rested on the trigger. Below, my partner called it in. She looked up at me. The pain in her expression hit hard. Her face was damp. Her eyes were red and swollen.

“Please, ma’am, I need you to put the weapon down,” I repeated. She glanced at the gun and sighed.

“I can’t do that, Sarah. May I call you Sarah?” she asked. I nodded. “I can’t put the gun down, but I can tell you what happened. Is your bodycam on? Does it record sound? None of the facts should be lost.”

It was unorthodox. I wasn’t sure how it would play in court if I got her to stop. Still, I checked that the bodycam was recording. I looked for somewhere to sit. I’d been on duty since six that morning and had taken this as the last call of my shift. I spotted a cushion and put it on the floor. I sat cross-legged in front of her. I tried to ignore the dust and must that rose from it.

“Please state your full name.”

“Ashley Thompson Garcia.”

“And are you giving this account of your own free will and without any coercion?”

“Yes. I want everyone to know what happened.”

I recited the date and the time. Then I waited. The silence stretched for a few minutes. I thought I’d lost her. She took a deep breath.

“We have to begin back twenty-nine years, to the summer of 19 ninety-seven, when my parents, Megan and David Thompson, married. Their wedding day was only the second time they’d met in person. Megan was 18. David was twenty-eight. David’s father was Don of their Mafia family.”

Her hands trembled. She adjusted her grip on the gun.

“Within the first year of their marriage they fell in love. Then my grandfather died and my father became Don. A few months later my brother, Brandon, was born.” Her voice caught. A tear slid down her face. “Almost ten years and several miscarriages later, Megan, my mother, fell pregnant again. They found out it was a girl. Megan was devastated. She’d reconciled herself to the fact that Brandon would be groomed by his father to take over as Don someday. She’d watched scores of Mafia women waste away in loveless marriages to brutal or indifferent men. She didn’t want that for her daughter. She and my father hatched a plan. Not long before the end of the pregnancy, Megan traveled to visit her sister. Lauren had moved to California many years before to marry a man, but it hadn’t worked out and they were now divorced. While there, Megan convinced her sister to take the baby once it was born and raise it as her own. Niece to Megan and David. Cousin to Brandon. Then the story was sent home that Megan had gone into premature labor and lost the baby.”

Sounds drifted up from below. Footsteps and muffled conversations as the crime scene team worked.

“Two years ago, when I turned 19, Megan had a serious health scare. They decided they needed to tell both of their children the truth. I was shocked, of course, to discover that the woman I’d thought was my mother wasn’t. That I had a dad. They hadn’t fabricated one for me. Somehow, though, I felt loved and cared for. They’d all made sacrifices to try to give me a better life. I was grateful.”

“Officer Miller,” a male voice called up. Ashley nodded for me to go and answer. I stood at the top of the stairs and looked down. Detective Reynolds stood looking up. I went down a few stairs and filled him in quickly on what was happening. He agreed to let me continue until a properly trained suicide prevention officer could attend.

“Sorry, Ashley,” I said. I resumed my seat on the floor and made sure the bodycam faced her.

“Brandon seemed delighted with the news at first. We’d written to each other a little as cousins over the years, but because there was such an age gap we’d very little in common. He said he was happy to not be an only child anymore, even if no one else could know about it. We’d bonded over the worry for our mother’s recovery. She did recover from that illness. The next summer they planned a trip to California.”

Summer in California

“It’ll be fine, sweetheart,” Lauren said. She rubbed my back. We stood in the arrivals hall of Los Angeles airport and waited for the flight from New York to land. I was nervous. All my life I’d thought the woman standing beside me was my mother. Last year I’d found out that wasn’t the truth. Now I was the secret in my family. My real parents were from New York. My father was a Don in the Thompson Mafia family. To save me the life of being a pawn to be moved around the Mafia chess board as soon as I was 18, they’d chosen to pretend their daughter had died at birth. My mother’s sister, Lauren, had come to California and married a man many years earlier, but their marriage hadn’t worked out and she had no children. According to the rest of my family and their wider circle of friends, however, I was my aunt’s daughter. Niece to my parents. Cousin to my older brother Brandon.

Brandon, like me, had only been told the truth last year during a health scare for our mother, Megan. We hadn’t been close when we were cousins. The age gap hadn’t helped. We’d bonded over worry for our mother’s recovery. He was in line to step into our father’s shoes when the time came and lead the family. A role I assumed he wanted.

My parents, or pretend aunt and uncle, approached first. I’d been given strict instructions to only speak the truth in private. The security and staff that traveled with them didn’t and shouldn’t know the real story. The sisters hugged. Then they turned to me.

“Ashley, you’ve grown a little since we last saw you,” Megan said. I smiled. Megan had traveled to California to visit us every few years. We had a brief hug. Then David held my shoulders and kissed my cheeks several times in the Italian tradition. I stared at the man who was my father. Two tall men followed them. One of them was Brandon.

“Cousin Ashley,” Brandon said gruffly. He gave me a quick squeeze. I glanced to the other young man. Brandon introduced him as his long-time friend, Jake Garcia. My college heart fluttered at the sight of this man. I guessed he was probably in his late twenties, like Brandon, but he had presence and charisma I’d never encountered. He shook my hand formally. I suppressed the desire to giggle and squirm under his gaze.

David had hired a car for them. Partly because we all would never have fit in Lauren’s car. Partly to give them freedom to travel within California while they were visiting. For the trip back to the house, Lauren insisted Megan, she, and I travel in her car. The men could travel in the other one. Megan, my true mother, sat in the back with me. As soon as we began to move, she clasped my hand in hers and held it. It was a little strange to switch the two women’s roles around, so I decided to see it as having two mothers.

“It’s so good to see you, honey. Sorry it’s been so long this time. Tell me what you’ve been up to.” I told her about my last year in college. I told her about my plans to go to college in Europe.

After we got them settled in and Lauren served dinner, they insisted us young people should go and do something together. I guess they wanted us to form a sibling relationship. Brandon, Jake, and I decided to go to the local bar. In California you only had to be twenty-one to drink alcohol. My birthday had been a month earlier, so I found this excursion exciting in all kinds of ways.

I couldn’t shake the feeling that Brandon was annoyed with me about something. Always being a straight talker, I got right to the crux of it.

“Are you mad at me, Brandon? Have I done something to upset you?” I asked. “It’s ok if you are, but please just tell me what you’re mad about and maybe I can fix it.”

He and Jake exchanged a look.

“Well, actually I am a little, because I feel that I’m going to become the third wheel around here very soon. You’ve got Jake smitten. Before we came over I made the mistake of showing him your picture and your social media account. He’s been dying to meet you ever since.”

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I blinked, not sure if I’d understood correctly.

“Eh…you like me?” I asked Jake. He nodded.

“But we only met earlier today.”

“From the first time I saw your picture I knew you were someone I wanted to meet. Sometimes, that’s all it takes, bella,” Jake replied.

I couldn’t deny that he was one of the sexiest men I’d ever met. In the short time I’d been with him, I was smitten too. I blushed. He grinned.

“Ok, that’s it. I’m outta here. You two stay, have a few more drinks, get to know each other.” Brandon threw some notes onto the table, slapped Jake on the back, gave my cheek a swift kiss, and left.

That first evening Jake and I talked about all kinds of things. We flirted outrageously. As the night drew to a close I didn’t want to let the chance pass me by. I was going off to college at the end of the summer, so I wanted memories to take with me. Lauren’s house was only around the corner from the bar, but it couldn’t accommodate everyone, so Jake had booked into a local motel. Outside the bar he turned in the direction of my home, obviously being the gentleman and wanting to walk me to the door. I swayed a tiny bit from the alcohol, but I wasn’t drunk.

“Wait. I don’t want to go home yet. Can I come back to the motel?”

He pulled me into his body and laced his fingers together behind the small of my back. I gazed up at him. My hands rested on his arms. Slowly he lowered his head and softly pressed his lips to mine. I strained up to him, rising on my toes to give him more access. I parted my lips. His tongue slid inside my mouth and began exploring. I ran my hands up and down his arms and over his broad shoulders. His hands roamed over my back. One hand caressed my neck and cupped the back of my head. The other went lower. He gripped one cheek of my bottom and squeezed, pulling my front more flush with his. His erection pressed between our bodies. My pussy grew wet and I squirmed.

“You’re so beautiful…and innocent,” Jake muttered when he released my lips and began trailing kisses along my jaw. “You should run from me.”

I ran my fingers through his hair and up and down his neck and back. I grabbed his backside and pulled it toward me.

“No. I want to run to you. I’m not that innocent,” I whispered. “Please corrupt me more.”

We began to walk toward his accommodation. While I was nervous I was also excited. His role within my Mafia family in New York made him mysterious and worldly wise. I’d lived a sheltered life here in Los Angeles. Lauren was overprotective because she had this secret to protect. We crept quietly up to his room. Him bringing back a young woman would be frowned upon, but we didn’t care. As soon as we got inside he gripped my throat with his large hand and walked me back to the closest wall. My small hands wrapped around his wrist. I had to rise onto my toes as he lifted me, ever so slightly. His raw strength and power was intoxicating. He shoved his other hand between my thighs. I spread for him. He gripped my crotch and squeezed and then patted it. I almost came from this rough treatment alone.

“Do you want me to make you come, Ashley?” he asked in that wonderful accent of his.

“Yes, please. And don’t tease.”

“So polite.”

I was wearing light summer clothes. I knew he could feel my dampness through the fabric of my trousers and panties. I was too aroused to be mortified. He continued to hold me in place by my throat, squeezing just enough for a slight spark of fear to ignite and add to my excitement. He stroked down between my breasts, over my midriff, and his fingers went inside my clothes. He found my throbbing pussy and wet his fingers in my juices. He rubbed gently and lightly over my clit in a rapid waving motion. My breathing shortened. I panted. My hips bucked. The innocent fumbling of the boys I’d lost my virginity to, or been with since, made his actions so sophisticated in my mind. I felt more mature and womanly under his ministrations. He sank a finger inside me. I gasped at the intrusion. Using the heel of his hand to press against my clit at the same time, he pumped inside me, crooking his fingers to stimulate all the right places.

“Oh fuck. Yes,” I panted out. He caught the words in an open-mouthed kiss.

“Come for me,” he encouraged. I didn’t need it. It was just there. It crashed over and through me like nothing I’d experienced up to this. All my muscles tensed. My breathing stopped just long enough for a tingle to begin at the back of my head. I released a breath in a gush. My legs almost gave way, but he was there, supporting me. As I drifted back to normal breathing, he undressed me and carried me to his bed. I lay back and watched him shed his clothes. He obviously worked out and had muscled shoulders and a six-pack that was well defined. He was male beauty at its best. He lay beside me and fondled my breasts. I stroked his cock with my hand. We kissed. He moved onto his back. I shimmied down so that I could take his cock into my mouth. It tasted musky. I licked and sucked as best I could, not having a huge amount of experience in this area either. Long after the boys I’d been with would have spurted all over my face and chest, he was still in control. He reached to his nightstand and ripped the wrapper off a condom. I rolled away while he sheathed up. Then he clambered onto me. I welcomed his weight and the restriction it caused. He wet the tip of his cock in my juices and pressed it inside. I gasped, stretched, and gripped his biceps, digging my short fingernails into his flesh deep enough to leave little half-moon indentations. I breathed through the initial moments. He rocked forwards and back. Gradually I accepted him in. He began thrusting in a slow rhythm. Then he came up onto his forearms, braced over me. I ran my fingertips across his chest and abs. I held my legs bent wide and high. The pressure built again. I gazed into his blue eyes. He picked up speed, his hips snapping rapidly. My inner walls trembled. Finally it hit. Another orgasm. I milked him. He let go with grunts and curses. I felt the warmth from his cum inside the condom. We lay together for a little while. Then he eased out and went to the tiny ensuite bathroom to dispose of the condom and clean up. He brought back a warm damp washcloth and gently wiped me clean of my own cream. He propped himself up with pillows and pulled me in beside him so my head could rest on his chest.

“How long are you staying?” I asked after the silence had stretched to breaking point.

“About six months, is the plan at the moment.”

“I’ll be taking a summer job in that bar we were at. Then I’m off to college.”

“So it’s all planned out for you. It’s good to know what you want to do,” he said softly, tracing circles with his fingertips on my upper arm. His words seemed to encourage me. Yet there was something in his tone that belied that. I shook it off as me just not knowing him well enough yet.

Over the next six months I saw Jake every day. Sometimes twice a day when he’d come into the bar for lunch as well as a late dinner. Sexually, we did everything you could think of. He blew my mind more than once. Each time we molded our bodies around each other a piece of me stayed with him. The day of their departure back to New York and the beginning of my adventure at college approached more quickly than I could have imagined.

“Come back to New York with me for the rest of the year. You’re only 18. You’ve plenty of time to study and travel if that’s still what you want to do,” Jake urged time and again. But wouldn’t that defeat the whole purpose of what my family had done to keep me out of the Mafia world? As far as I knew, Jake thought I was Brandon’s cousin. I couldn’t continue a relationship with him based on a lie. My true parentage could change things. We might not go the distance. Someone could recognize me and put two and two together. Brandon would be forced to marry me off in just the way our parents feared once he became Don. All these fears led to only one conclusion. I had to end it now. Get away. I had to pack my things and go to Europe and take up my place at college. I couldn’t let this summer fling, no matter how intoxicating and addicting it was, derail my plans. I left aunt Lauren a note explaining. I asked that she didn’t tell anyone where I’d gone. I lasted two weeks. I couldn’t sleep. Tossing and turning, reliving our wonderful time together. I was in withdrawal from the drug that was Jake.

Ashley lowered the gun at last. Her shoulders shook as tears fell. I reached out slowly and took the weapon from her limp fingers. She had told her truth. The weight of it hung between us in the dusty attic air. Outside, the night pressed on, but for the first time in years she breathed free of the secret that had shaped every choice.