Double Standards (Part 1)

Breaking Boundaries

London

Not a day goes by that Laney doesn't intrude on my thoughts. I still wrestle with the decision that I made. Then I see how much she has accomplished  since I set her free. Laney has expanded her resorts across sea's now. The remodeling of her home made headlines in all major home magazine's. She's consistently a topic among fellow business men and companies for her business smarts and outlandish deals she pulls off. Laney has also founded a charity for women that strip. She's helps get them out of the bars and puts them through college.

So yea, I made the right decision. She's safe now living her life. The life she deserves, away from murder and mayhem.

I'd be lying if I told you I didn't miss her. Every minute of every day. Her laugh, her infuriating looks, smart ass mouth, and those oh so sweet sex noises that slid from her mouth in between telling me that she was mine, that I owned her.

My babydoll has a tendency to get in trouble and mixed up in things that she knows nothing about, no fault of her own ,of course. A store could be getting robbed and she would stroll right in and demand the culprit to stop just so she could purchase her gum. That's her, the one who unknowingly walks into trouble. That's why I still have eye's on her. Not to meddle in her business, but to assure she keeps her nose clean and head attached to her body. They only report back to me if danger arises. Thankfully, I haven't been informed of any.

Occasionally I do eavesdrop when ELa or Conner are on the phone with her. Other than that I know nothing of her private life. That's how I want it. My men do inform me that sometimes she is aware of their presence and will taunt them. I wouldn't expect anything less from Laney. She was exposed to my lifestyle long enough to know what to watch for.

Laney still has somewhat of a annoying presence in my life. Sending Conner idiotic snap chats duiring important meetings causing disruption. True, that shit was funny. Then I occasionally spot Conner off in a cornor somewhere, making disturbing faces and sounds into his phone, obviously snap chatting her. Marcus even gets in on it occasionally.

Mostly these days I burry myself in my work, and stay home. Mainly I sleep at the Den now. It just doesn't feel right staying at my place without Laney. I constantly think I'll look to her chase lounge by the Window and see her there. She loved the view and that was my babydolls spot. I thought of having the lounge removed but can't bring myself to do it. Plopping down on it myself one day, I sat upon something hard. Moving her blankets around, I discovered a book she was reading "How to control your impulses". Laughing out loud, I knew she was reading it because of me. I always argued that she was impulsive and didn't think before acting. Secretly, I wouldn't change her for the world. Her impulsive behaviour is what led her to me in the first place. It's what drew me to her and I always anticipated her next move. Along with the book laid a tube of her favorite lip gloss. Cherry bomb flavor, I loved tasting this on her lips and she knew it. Pulling the wand out, I held it to my nose breathing it in. I recall how'd she'd smear it across her lips and lay one on me. I had all her belongings packed and sent to her the same week she left, but there was this small box I kept that held a few things I'd occasionally come across that had been overlooked. I added the book and lip gloss  to the box along with the perfume, earrings, and other things that I discovered. Every inch of my home held a piece of her. Laney's sticky note still clung to my fridge that contained a recipe she had meant to try, her red stained lipstick print still clung to my bathroom mirror, reminding me when things were good. Laney's handprint still pressed against the viewing window. Even though she was alive, I was living with her ghost. There wasn't a spot in my place that we hadn't made love. Memories everywhere. Pictures of us everywhere.

I couldn't bring myself to remove anything, and thankfully Conner and the other's never questioned it.

I tried a few dates with women that had been bred in the mafia life, but always compared them to my blonde, pale skinned, blue eyed babydoll. They always came up short and I found them dull. These bred women were taught to act a certain way. Never to argue,  always agree, basically serve me in anyway I demanded. I hated it, it made for idle conversation. Often I would try to piss them off just to get a reaction, but the results were always the same. Politely agreeing with me.

But my babydoll would call my bluff, hollar bullshit on my threats, tell me I was full of shit. One minute I'd be a fucktard, the next a bastardo. One minute she loved me, the next threaten to set me on fire. Laney wasn't afraid to put her foot down with me, defy me, and Iet me know when she was pissed. I missed that. From the second I met her she riled me up and I'd imagine ways to kill her, but at the same time she captivated me, and still does. I'll always believe she's my one.

Marcela was Italian and raised in the family. I've spoken to her maybe a handful of times. Don't get me wrong, she was very nice to look at, but didn't have that spunk or impulsive attitude like Laney. Laney was a firecracker, where Marcela was calm, polite and reserved. Raised to stand by a leader's side with perfect mannerisms. She would be the perfect woman for me. I had taken her to a few dinner fuctions and her behavior was admirable. Marcela would sit quite and politely. Seen not heard unless spoken to. Whereas when Laney would attend a function she would be fidgety, yawn from boredom, interrupt every little bit to ask a question, go to the bathroom, or hit the bar. Now that I think about it, it always made for a interesting evening.

I eventually starting seeing Marcela on a regular basis. No grand plans, just dinner here or a movie there. Naturally I'd slept with her but it wasn't Laney. Marcela let me control every aspect of our sex life. Never fighting me for control like Laney would, never flipping me over demanding the reins like Laney did. I never asked her to say who she belonged to, never asked her to look me in the eye so she'd know who was banging her, and I never left any marks of claim on her body. No bite marks or nibbles. I just couldn't claim her. It didn't feel right. I didn't want to own her.

My relationship with Marcela wasn't serious for me anyways. I've explained my view point to her just so she doesn't get any hopes up. When I did sleep with her it was always at her place. I never allowed Marcela at my pent house. For one, Laney's photographs graced every room and I wasn't about to put them away for anyone. Second, I wasn't ready for any woman to be a guest here. Laney was the only one I ever allowed in my home.

Honestly, I don't know where this is going with Marcela and I haven't questioned it more. What I can tell you is that my heart, body and soul is owned by a blue eyed, perfect in everyway, vixen.

I, London Harper, mafia king, is without a doubt owned.