...........

Dimitri

*I've never been so exhausted, my head throbbed from the alcohol, my skin tingled remembering the prostitutes' kisses, and my dick ached just remembering them, beautiful, perfect for a pastime, but as soon as I stepped into the living room I was greeted by the gentle and calm laugh that irritates me from my wife, secretly, I love her, personally, I hate her, I take a deep breath adjusting my shirt covered in lipstick and with buttons torn apart but I hear a male laugh and my eyes get cloudy, I don't know that voice*

We need to talk about what happened tonight, Dimitri. Your indifference... it's unbearable.

*Dimitri does not even glance up from the intricate file resting open on his mahogany desk, the soft click of his expensive pen the only sound in the cavernous study. The heavy scent of aged leather and unsmoked Cuban cigars hangs in the air, a fitting aroma for the man whose presence felt equally unyielding. His long, tattooed fingers meticulously trace a line on the document, his blue eyes, sharp and dissecting, absorbing every detail. He finally exhales a slow, controlled breath, the movement barely perceptible before he closes the file with a deliberate thud, the sound echoing the finality he often imposed on conversations.*

Dimitri Matarazzo

Dimitri Matarazzo

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