[color=9e0039][u][b]Dominic Omerta - Ultra Luxe Casino, Marjorie’s Penthouse Suite[/b][/u][/color]

	With extremely labored breath, Dominic's heavy bulk rolled off of the naked prone form of Marjorie and onto the purple silken sheets of her bed. He was covered head to toe in sweat, and seemed ready to pass out from his all-too-enthusiastic exertions. He grabbed a tuft of the bedspread and used it to wipe his face, then turned over to look at his lover. Marjorie gave a contented sigh, then snuggled herself deeper into the embrace of the soft mattress. Dominic grinned,

	“Still got it,” He mumbled smugly to himself. He turned to the side of the bed and dropped his feet to the floor as he massaged his balding head with one hand. He then looked up and stared out from where the bed sat on the penthouse mezzanine at the unmatched opulence that unfolded before him. 

	Marjorie’s suite was at the very top floor of the Ultra Luxe Casino and it certainly fit the character of the White Glove’s leader. It was huge, gaudy, and richly adorned with black, silver, and deep purples framing the theme of the curtains, walls, and various furniture. Silver and Gold decorative pieces sat upon the dining table and upon pedestals that stood nestled within recessed alcoves. Fine paintings and unusual sculptures were hung on the walls and placed throughout the space, not for the love of art mind you, but simply to serve as expensive talking pieces. All of these things had been procured with the White Gloves considerable wealth, either by purchasing it second-hand or hiring scavengers to pilfer it from a number of abandoned pre-war museums and galleries throughout the West Coast. 

	Far from being impressed, Dominic grimaced at the sight, he never liked the White Glove’s holier-than-thou attitude or their aggressive attempts to make themselves seem superior to everyone else. They were ultimately no different than his Omerta’s despite their grand facade, and one could argue at their core: very much worse. At least his people hadn’t once eaten the travelers they killed like fucking animals. 

	Dominic turned once more and looked over at Marjorie, and took a brief moment to admire her slender naked form. Her body would be considered envious for any woman her age, and Dominic sometimes wondered to himself if maybe, just maybe, the White Gloves “unusual” diet had anything to do with that. While "Love” would probably be a strong word to use for the feelings Dominic had towards Marjorie,  he'd be lying if he said he didn't enjoy these "rendezvous" sessions as she so eloquently termed them, and her being easy on the eyes certainly made things much easier. Still, their relationship was mostly one-sided, but Dominic certainly loved one thing about his soon-to-be wife: her Family's money. All he had to do was keep Marjorie happy and the White Gloves, and their coffers, were practically his. 

	Luckily, he knew exactly how to do just that. 

	Dominic leaned over and gave Marjorie a playful slap to her rear, and then stood up from the bed.

	“Oh my….Dom, stop it!” Marjorie giggled as she rolled over and looked up at him. 

	“Come on sweet cheeks, outta bed,” He said with a wide mischievous grin, “Why don’t I make us a couple of nightcaps and we go sit downstairs to chat?”

	“Sounds wonderful!” Marjorie replied as she stretched herself out, “Just give me a few minutes to clean and freshen up.”

	“Of course my love, take your time….”

	[hr]

	By the time Marjorie made her way down the mezzanine stairs in a pink bathrobe, Dominic had made them both a couple of White Russians after covering himself with his own black bathrobe. He’d also lit himself a cigarette and was puffing on it steadily. 

	“I need a little help my love, wondering if you could spot me a small loan,” Dominic said off-hand, sending their conversation straight to business. 

	“Oh my, of course, how much do you need Dommy Dear?,” Marjorie replied as she sat down at the table then gently wrapped her delicate fingers around the drink in front of her. 

	“Eh not much…just forty-thousand caps or so. I’d like to hire some extra muscle to protect the Strip as we get closer to our wedding. I have my eye on a Midwestern merc outfit that blew into town recently - heavily armed and a lot of guns between them with plenty of combat experience. They aren’t cheap, as you can probably imagine.”

	“Oh well of course, I would expect nothing less!” Marjorie said with an understanding nod, “Nothing but the best security, as expected. I’d be glad to front the payment.”

	“Perfect, thank you my dear,” Dominic replied as he lifted her hand to give it a kiss, “I knew I could count on your help my love.”

	“Do you expect there'll be much trouble? I would hate for us to have to postpone the wedding because of any unsightly unrest,” Marjorie asked as she took a dainty slip of her White Russian. 

	“No but one can never be too careful my love. There’s always trouble brewing in the Mojave and Freeside is well….Freeside, there will always be trouble in that cesspit. The North Gate could certainly use more security. House’s little toy soldiers are enough for the regular troublemakers, but since the Old Man is MIA, they haven’t exactly been reliable for much of anything else. Plus...” Dominic continued, taking a long drag on his cigarette, “Rumor has it that the new NCR ambassador will be arriving soon. I’d like to show him that the NCR may claim that they have fully annexed the Mojave - but WE still hold Vegas.”

	“Well I leave all that business to you Dommy Dear…” Marjorie replied with a wave of her hand, “I don’t care much for politics. All I care about is keeping the ne-er do wells off the Strip and away from my wedding”

	“And that I guarantee you,” Dominic said, raising his glass, “If only the same could be said about the Chairmen…”

	“Swank or his cronies shant be of much concern. I can’t believe they’d try to pull anything. They may be tasteless, but they aren’t fools.”

	“Oh I wouldn’t put it past him,” Dominic replied with a thoughtful swish of his glass, “He knows that our union puts his family on the backfoot. He might try anything to stop it.”

	Marjorie gasped, putting her hand to her chest in an act of pearl clutching astonishment, “You can’t possibly mean…”

	Dominic took a final puff on his cigarette, before smashing the still burning butt into a nearby ashtray, “Yes…I do…..the bastard might very well try to kill one of us.”