🦋Dos Mariposas🦋 Elle

Chepe gritted his teeth, rubbed his tired and gritty eyes with the heel of his gun-holding hand, and opened the door, positioning himself to block the entrance, not allowing the Santos del Norte member in.

“What. Do. You. Want?” Chepe repeated. He wasn’t posturing with his gun, but he wasn’t exactly hiding it either.

“Ay, ay Chi Chi,” Estevan held up his hands in mock surrender, a familiar gesture of his that Chepe already found infuriating. “Can’t a man visit his friend? Why so defensive?”

Estevan shouldered past Chepe into the room and looked around the dirty room, shaking his head. “Loving what you’re doing to the place, Chi. I hope you’ve not been bringing any girls back here. You’re giving Santos del Norte a bad name.”

Chepe watched the man. Estevan didn’t do ‘social visits’. There’d be a reason for his arrival, and Chepe fucking hated the way the other man made a song and dance out of every interaction. His patience was wearing thin, his head was pounding and he really wanted to just punch the man outcold so he could get back to his semi-slumber on the couch.

Estevan watched Chepe’s face and almost pouted with the lack of reaction he was getting. “I suppose that’s a ‘no’ to bringing girls back here? I’m surprised, amigo, I took you for a lady’s man. Or…” he smirked, stepped close to Chepe, and began to gently reach out a hand toward his face, “is it the boys that you like?”

Chepe grabbed the man’s wrist before he could touch his face. “Fuck off, hijueputa. I’ve asked you nicely and I’m not going to ask again - what the fuck do you want?”

Estevan held Chepe’s gaze and slowly licked his lips, letting his hand go limp in Chepe’s grasp. He bit his bottom lip and gently tugged his wrist out of Chepe’s grasp. Push, push, push. Estevan was still learning exactly what buttons to push for Chepe, but the farmer wasn’t particularly adept at hiding his anger and Estevan was making a mental note of every single temper flare. Chepe had information Estevan wanted; however he wasn’t a fragile, soft man. Chepe was hard, and violent, and even Estevan could admit that he would most likely be the loser in a fair physical fight. But Estevan didn’t play ‘fair’. Estevan was clever, and calculating, and manipulative, and he could break people in other ways.

“It’s Friday. Where is my money?”

That threw Chepe for a second. It must have only been a few minutes past midnight. The deal had been to give Estevan his money on Friday, yes, but a few minutes into the day?

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he snarled, “you said fucking Friday. I’ll sell your fucking drugs, you’ll get your money tonight.”

Estevan bit his bottom lip again in an exaggerated pouting gesture. “Now, now Chi Chi. That’s no way to speak to your boss” - Chepe simmered with anger - “but fine. You have 24 hours. In the meantime, I thought we should have a chat. Get to know each other a bit better, y’know?”

Estevan turned his back on Chepe and sauntered over to the frayed couch, settling himself down on it as if he didn’t have a care in the world. He reached for the open bottle of tequila on the table and downed the remainder of the contents.

“So… tell me more about you. Who is Chepe? Where does he come from?”

Chepe’s eyes narrowed and he ground his teeth together. “There’s nothing to tell.”

Estevan laughed. It was not a nice sound. “Oh Chi Chi. Why so shy? Let me tell you something about me, then. I know a lot of people in this city. I have a lot of friends in dangerous places. You might want to remember that when I ask you something.”

Chepe stepped closer to the couch Estevan was sitting on. He grabbed the now-empty bottle and threw it toward the gangster, deliberately just missing his head and smashing against the wall behind him.

“Get out.”

“Ay Chi, you don’t make this easy. Fine. We’ll drop it… for now. You better be at my place within 24 hours with the money, though, or you’ll be in very big trouble. Do you understand?”

Chepe was already rapidly regretting his partnership with this man. But he needed money, and selling drugs was the easy way to make it. And… he couldn’t admit it to himself, but he was starting to feel itchy, and fidgety, and his eyes darted to one of the bags of cocaine lying on a side table. Maybe it wasn’t just the cash he needed anymore.

“You’ll get your money. Now piss off.”

Estevan smiled widely and stood up, purposefully walking past the baggies sitting out on the side table and sliding his hand over them as he headed toward the door.

“And Chi Chi? Remember - don’t touch the merch. It’s weighed and counted and trust me, I’ll know.” Chepe’s eyes flared slightly at Estevan’s insinuation, but also at the fact that Chepe couldn’t deny he’d been thinking about it. What the fuck was wrong with him..?

“Do your job right amigo, and you’ll get the good stuff, don’t worry. I’ll look after you.”

“Get off the table, you’re gonna mess this all up!” He growled at her, putting his own finger in his mouth to further rub the drugs in.

Carla huffed as she carefully climbed off, sitting herself on his side of the table this time, next to him on the worn, coffee-stained couch. “You’ve been such a fucking dick to me the past few days. What’s going on? You got some new girl or something?”

Estevan laughed unkindly, but then stopped what he was doing and turned to face her, taking her face in both his hands. “Don’t be fucking stupid. Why would I need another girl when I have the queen right here, mi vida? Here…” he quickly sliced her another line off and handed her the rolled up bill, “only the best for my Carlita.”

Carla took the note and snorted the cocaine quickly before taking a long, slow inhale of fresh air through her nose, savouring the feeling of the two lines kicking in. She again licked her finger, slid it across the remnants of the line and rubbed it on her own gums, enjoying the familiar numbing feeling. She turned toward Estevan, pulled his face toward her and kissed him hard. God, she loved this man. His dark, eager eyes flashed open as she began to lift one leg over him, straddling him, and moaning into his mouth, her palms on either side of his face, her tongue dancing with his.

Estevan ran his hands down her back and grabbed her ass, pulling her closer toward him. He pulled his head back and flicked his tongue over his lips with that deliciously dangerous look on his face that made Carla instantly wet every time. She placed her hands on his thighs behind her to give her the leverage to press herself onto his crotch, feeling him harden beneath her and feeling the rush of the drugs in her system and the thrill of being with him, in this crappy shack, surrounded by thousands of dollars of cocaine and empty bottles of whisky and rum and having him wanting and needing her. She began to grind against him, throwing her head back and relishing the feeling of his trousers straining against her.

“Ugh, mami… you know I don’t have time for this right now.”

Carla’s head snapped back up and she blinked at the man she was offering herself up to. “What? What the fuck do you mean? You’re nearly done here!” she gestured at the piles of labelled bags with various amounts of white powder set out on the table.

“Ah.. I have to go do a… social call.” He reached his hand up and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, before stroking her cheek. “I’m sorry, you know there’s nothing I’d rather do than fuck you right over this table, right now, but this is potentially a very lucrative client.”

Carla shook her head to dislodge his hand and removed herself from his lap without saying a word. She walked over to look out the dirty window of their current residence, wrinkling her nose at the grime and lifting a half-empty bottle of rum off a nearby counter to hold to her lips.

“Come on baby, don’t be like that,” he whined, already cutting her another line to prevent her from going in a mood. “I promise you, this guy will be worth it.”

Carla took a few gulps of the rum and dangled the bottle neck between her fingers as she walked back to the couch. “Why? He rich? He better not be another one of the boss’s so-called best friends, I don’t want to do another fucking delivery to find another fucking dead body!”

Estevan patted the couch seat beside him for her to sit down. “No, no, mi amor, he’s not dangerous. I wouldn’t put you in danger like that,” - Carla rolled her eyes, she’d heard that one before - “he’s got… information.”

He took the bottle off of her and replaced it with the hundred dollar bill, gently pushing her head down toward the table. “I won’t be long. You know I’m very good at getting what I want.”

Carla obligingly snorted her third line in the last ten minutes and broke into a wild grin, biting her bottom lip. She found it incredibly sexy knowing how her boyfriend could control so many little bastardos with his fists and his drugs. They were rising up the ranks. Soon enough they’d be out of this dump and living in a beautiful farmhouse on the outskirts of the city, she just knew it. She rubbed the remnants of the powder on her gums automatically.

Estevan grabbed the back of Carla’s head and pulled her toward him, crashing his lips into hers and forcing his tongue into her mouth to lick the cocaine from her mouth and get his own rush. He began to stand, still holding her head to his, still roughly meeting her tongue with his, only letting go of her when he was satisfied. She dropped back down to the couch, gazing up at him with eyes burning with lust.

He grabbed a few of the baggies from the table and stuffed them down his sock. He picked up his gun and tucked it in his waistband - he rarely needed it, his own special brand of cocaine was usually enough to keep anyone doing anything he wanted, but he would be stupid to live the life he did without staying protected.

“I’ll be back in an hour. You better be fucking naked and ready the second I step back in that door.”

Carla fluttered her eyelashes and bit her bottom lip again. “Be safe, Papi.”

Estevan nodded. “I told you. This guy is small time. He’s an easy customer. But he knows shit that’s important to me. Don’t worry,” he laughed, and as always his laugh gave the air of someone who relished hurting others and who found joy and humour in pain. Carla felt the familiar throbbing between her legs. That wicked laugh always turned her on and she knew he knew it. “Maybe we’ll be living it up sooner than you think, Princesa, once I break this man. What do they call him again? Oh that’s right, fucking Chihuahua.”

“Chihuahua??” Carla laughed, a laugh that was much lighter and genuine that her boyfriend’s ever was. “How cute!” She bounced up and down on the couch like a child, the drugs completely now taken hold – she was high and excited and completely enraptured with the man before her. She pressed her hand to her mouth and blew him a kiss. “Have fun, mi amor!”