CHAPTER 32
It was a recurring dream.
Victoria is sitting at a dressing table, gazing into a brightly-lit vanity mirror. She’s in the dressing room of a huge amphitheater. It’s her dressing room! Champagne, flowers, and baskets of fruit surround her. She expected to feel tense and on edge, but she’s quite calm as she prepares to give the first performance of her cross-county tour. Then without warning, as she puts on the final touches of her makeup, she hears the intro of her opening song. Panic-stricken, she looks at her watch; it’s show time! Inexplicably, she has dawdled, and lost track of time. How could this have happened? Her manager should not have allowed this to happen. Such negligence was unacceptable. She’d have a few choice words for him. She scurries to the door, but stops suddenly, realizing that she’s wearing only a bra and a G-string. Where were her clothes? Where the hell was her wardrobe person? Oh screw it; there simply wasn’t enough time to locate her clothes. In just a few more bars, the band would be playing her cue.
Bolting out the door, she prays that the audience doesn’t notice that she’s undressed.
She zips through a maze of darkened corridors, her breathing is harsh and labored. She can’t find her way to the stage. She hears her assembled musicians playing the intro over and over, while the audience, apparently worked into a frenzy of anticipation, chants her name. “Victoria, Victoria!” While still trapped in the maze, Victoria surprisingly hears a thunderous applause as her voice booms from the amphitheater’s sound system. Frantically she wonders: How can this be?
An hour after drifting off, Victoria awakened to the sound of her music. She sprang from the sofa to the stereo system across the room, and with the click of a switch, silenced her vocals.
Kareem smiled uncomfortably. “I was checking out your music selection while you were sleep, and I ran across your CD. I heard the first two tracks, and they sounded tight. How come you never told me about your music career?”
“Because it’s nonexistent. There’s nothing to tell.”
“Then explain that voice I just heard.”
“I can’t. Not right now.”
Kareem sat down next to her; he patted her arm. “Okay, I’m not gonna push you. We’ll talk when you’re ready.”
Victoria gazed kindly at Kareem. “I’m pretty confused about a lot of things, but I’m trying to put my troubles aside for awhile. I have to concentrate on raising my son. I’m looking for a private school for Jordan; that’s my priority right now.”
Kareem nodded, and Victoria felt encouraged.
“I read an article about the public school system,” she continued. “Public schools aren’t working, Kareem. Black kids start off okay, but then bad grades and acting out begin. They lose the desire to learn by the time they reach the fourth grade. I just can’t let that happen to Jordan.”
“I know you’re a good mother,” Kareem said, putting his arm around her. “But how do you expect to give Jordan your best if you don’t take care of yourself?”
“What are you talking about? I do take care of myself,” she protested.
“Then what’s wrong? Why are your eyes so sad?”
Victoria dropped her gaze and sighed.
Kareem reached out and stroked her hair. “You know I care about you, and if I didn’t think you felt the same, I wouldn’t be here.”
She took a deep breath, but couldn’t deny the deep feelings she had for Kareem.
“I want to be a part of your life—your son’s life.”
On that note, Victoria allowed her lips to curve slightly into a smile.
“And I’m going to do whatever it takes to keep you smiling,” he whispered, and squeezed her against him.
“I do want you in my life, Kareem. But how is it possible with…with the work I do? I want to get out of the business, but I can’t. Not yet.”
Kareem spoke softly; his brown eyes were warm and sincere. “I can help you, Victoria. You don’t have to carry this burden alone.”
“Yes I do. I have to get out of this on my own. You can help me by being patient.”
“I’ll be whatever you need me to be. Patient, gentle, strong. Whatever,” he said. Their lips touched lightly. She turned her lips to his. Victoria and Kareem stood up. Their bodies molded together, still kissing, he swooped her into his arms and carried her to her room.
Kareem and Victoria lay together on her bed in the near darkness, his fingers working quickly to untie her robe. Startled, then smiling, that this sensual woman’s nightclothes were covered with Disney characters. Then he eased off her nightshirt, his lips swept over her shoulders, his hands moved to her breasts.
Clutching his tee shirt, Victoria trembled and, then slipped her hands beneath the fabric. Slowly, her hands traveled from his flat tight stomach, to his hard, hairy chest. Kareem’s hardening nipples aroused her. Overwhelmed by the desire to touch every part of him, her hands quickly left that area to explore his broad shoulders and his back.
“Kareem,” she cried out.
Kareem moaned a response, and then spoke with his face buried in her hair. “You know I want you, you know I need you. But there’s a problem.”
“What’s wrong?” Victoria asked, alarmed.
Kareem smiled slyly, and placed Victoria’s hand in the center of his chest. “I’ve got a sensitive heart and I don’t want you to break it. Feel me?”
Victoria touched him all over. “I feel you,” she replied.
CHAPTER 33
Shards of sunlight sliced through the slightly parted blinds, forcing Victoria into consciousness at dawn. She blinked irritably, but was instantly comforted by an awareness that Kareem lay next to her. But that feeling was brief; it was replaced by a pang of apprehension. Morning-after uneasiness. Last night, she believed she had a firm grip on Kareem’s heart, but in the glare of the morning light she was not so certain. She hoped she hadn’t deluded herself.
Victoria lay still. She could feel the rise and fall of his breathing and longed to be close to him. She wanted to feel his breath on her back. She wanted to feel him on her back. Not wanting to wake him, and not wanting to break the spell, but needing to be a part of him again, Victoria held her breath and began to ever so slowly slide her body backwards into his curve. As she got closer she could feel his wiry, masculine body hair tickling her back, and the back of her thighs. She was almost there. Then, as if on cue, a strong arm enveloped her waist, and in one swift motion, Kareem pulled her the rest of the way. Nuzzling her neck, he whispered in her ear, “G’morning, baby.”
It was just a simple greeting, yet his words soothed her like a declaration of love. His response to her tentative advance reassured her. She need not proceed with caution. She was safe in his arms.
Victoria couldn’t resist kissing the arm that so lovingly held her, while Kareem used his free hand to fondle her back, her shoulder, her neck. And as he began to stroke her belly and her breasts, Victoria reached behind, stretching out her hand to caress his thick, muscular thigh. The moment she touched him, she felt his throbbing hardness begin to move against her, pulsating and seeking something warm, something dark, something moist, and something equally hungry. Her fingers, winding up the length of his thigh paused to rake through the tangled mass of thick pubic hair, then using just a fingertip, she traveled the length of his desire. As she gently massaged, Kareem groaned. Victoria was struck by a tightening in the pit of her stomach that swiftly cascaded down to her loins.
With no will of her own, she allowed determined hands to shift her position, and pull her on top. Kareem gripped her shoulders and lowered her mouth to his. With her eyes shut tight, Victoria grimaced as she struggled to control the urge to simply devour him.
“Open your eyes,” Kareem instructed.
Victoria’s lids fluttered open.
“I love you,” he said, holding her in his gaze.
Limp with raw passion, and too weak to keep her head up, she collapsed onto his chest, murmuring, “I love you, too, Kareem.”
<
br /> Victoria rolled off Kareem; she wanted her man on top. Lying on her back, she drew up her knees and parted them slowly. Kareem gave a low, throaty sound as he moved into the space her open thighs had created. Victoria reached out to guide him, but Kareem brushed her hand away. Burying his face between her legs, he parted her wet, sensitive lips, kissing and sucking before using his tongue to taste the nectar deep within. Victoria’s body arched and fell; her knees locked Kareem in. A sound, not quite human, building up inside fought for release, and Victoria could feel herself losing the battle to control it. And just as she was about to fall into the abyss, Kareem stopped abruptly.
“No, baby, not yet. Wait for me,” he urged, as he lifted his moist mouth and began to journey upward, kissing and licking his way to her lips.
“Hurry, Kareem,” Victoria pleaded, writhing and reaching, and pulling him toward her, but Kareem refused to be rushed. She bit down on her bottom lip in a struggle for self-control.
Kareem entered her, filling her slowly. He didn’t thrust wildly or deeply, it was a slow rhythmic ride. But Victoria, crazed by the unbearable sweet pain, clutched and clawed, and pulled him in deeper, thrusting her body, demanding immediate release.
“Okay, baby. All right,” Kareem said hoarsely, giving in to her demands. Quickening his pace, he met her thrust for thrust until they both collapsed.
Smiling with her eyes closed, Victoria lay flat on her back. Kareem, propped up by an elbow stared down at her, wiping perspiration from her face with his fingertips.
Her eyes opened. “Jordan’s gonna be up soon,” she said with a long sigh.
“Yeah, I figured that. I guess I better get myself together and slip out quietly.”
“Aw, Kareem,” she whined. “I don’t want you to leave, but Jordan…” She stopped abruptly, recalling her muffled cries. She wondered how loud she’d been?
“Oh God, I have to check on Jordan. I hope he didn’t hear us.”
Victoria and Kareem sat up, their eyes scanned the room until they landed on the trail of clothing scattered about on the floor. Kareem got up and tossed Victoria her nightshirt and began quickly picking up his own clothes. She pulled the nightshirt over her head and rushed to her son’s room.
Jordan was curled up fast asleep. Victoria breathed a sigh of relief. Jordan wasn’t used to having a man around, but Kareem was in her life now, and she’d figure out a way to inform Jordan in the least threatening way.
“He’s still asleep,” she said softly when she returned to her bedroom.
Completely dressed, Kareem sat on the side of the bed, adjusting the tongue of his Timberlands. The sight saddened her; she really didn’t want him to go. But it was best that he leave before Jordan woke up.
“So when am I gonna meet the little guy?” Kareem smiled brightly. “After you introduce us properly and everything, Jordan and I are gonna have a little talk… man-to-man.” Kareem feigned a serious expression.
Victoria couldn’t help smiling as she experienced a double delight: the sight of Kareem’s devilishly handsome face and the thought of him interacting with her son. A male influence was so badly needed in her little boy’s life. Did she dare hope for that?
“Do you want me to come back later on? Say around two or three.…late afternoon?”
“Yes, Jordan and I would be delighted.” She emphasized the last word.
“What does Jordan like to do?”
“Oh, Jordan’s not hard to please. A trip to McDonald’s will win him over.”
“Does he like amusement parks?”
“He sure does,” she said, smiling.
“Then, let’s take a ride to Great Adventure. We can pick up a Happy Meal on the way.” Kareem winked.
Be still my heart, she thought, imagining the three of them together. Happy. A family.
CHAPTER 34
Arianna eased her newly-leased Lexus up to the curb on Naudain Street, glanced at the clock on the brilliantly lit dashboard, and sighed. It was one in the morning; she should have been home in bed. But alas, money called. The street was so quiet, she wouldn’t have been surprised if the soft hum of the engine roused her sleeping neighbors, causing porch lights to flicker on, and curtains to part.
Arianna chortled, imagining her neighbors’ reactions if they were to discover the bawdy activities going on right under their smug noses? Most likely, they’d try to create problems for her, accuse her of violating city zoning laws. The big fuss, however, would end in a whimper—her cozy relationship with the city’s Licenses and Inspections enforcement chief ensured her of that.
Before turning off the ignition she gripped the steering wheel, bracing herself for the ordeal of tracking down one of her girls. It was late, and by now their pathetic asses had probably retreated to the dark shadowy places where narcotics dulled their senses.
Three hours earlier she had locked up the house, and had gone to her apartment on the Parkway, mentally exhausted, but satisfied with the day’s profit. Now she was back.
Motivated by images of Versace’s fall line, she had agreed to reopen when Rover called her at home with the news that he had a potential client who was willing to pay up to a thousand dollars for a spur-of-the-moment, hour-long session with a female submissive. The last customer of the night had been some big guy Rover had sent over. The guy wanted to take a strap to Ming, Arianna’s in-house dominatrix. He was quickly introduced to the pleasures of bondage and discipline. At the end of the session his back and buttocks were covered with red welts. He thanked Ming profusely and promised to come back in a week.
Ming would never agree to switch roles and play a submissive. Not for any amount of money, so there was no point in summoning her. That role required the services of Reds or Bethany, and it absolutely galled Arianna that she was unable to locate either of the two women.
Before leaving her apartment she had called Reds repeatedly on the cellular phone that she had given her, only to get an incessant ring. Hadn’t she told the dimwitted woman to keep the phone turned on at all times? Arianna was incensed; it didn’t matter that she had furiously dismissed Reds less than twenty-four hours ago. She still expected Reds to check in with her and was bewildered by her impudence.
When she called Bethany’s most recent pager number she got a recorded message informing her that the number was no longer in service. Only a low-life of the worst kind would fail to pay a ten-dollar-a-month pager bill.
The client, who called himself John, of course, was scheduled to arrive at two a.m. With only an hour to locate a submissive, Arianna sighed heavily and stepped out of the car. It had been warm out when she locked up, but now it was chilly. Wearing a short-sleeved floral dress, she wrapped her arms around herself and dashed inside the house.
Arianna remembered that Sheena, who had gotten word of Reds’ and Bethany’s sudden windfall, had expressed an interest in working for her and had given her several telephone numbers: a neighborhood bar, and the home of a friend. Arianna assumed that the latter was a place where Sheena got high. She quickly tried the number at the bar.
“Is Sheena there?” Arianna inquired.
“Sheena? Sheena who?” an irritated woman asked.
Arianna exhaled audibly. “Tall, thin Sheena.”
“Anybody here named Sheena?” the woman bellowed over loud bar music.
Arianna grimaced and held the phone away from her ear.
“No. Don’t nobody know no Sheena.”
“Would you mind asking if anybody there…?” Instantly, Arianna was listening to a dial tone.
With the end of a pen, she angrily punched the numbers to the presumed crack house and felt heartened when the man who answered the phone sounded alert and oriented enough to assure her that Sheena was expected soon. Great! She thanked the man and told him she’d call back in a few minutes, surprising herself with the sincerity in her voice.
Arianna cupped her chin in one hand, and with the painted nails of the other hand, tapped the desk impatiently. She frowned down at her Mov
ado; it was 1:15.
Feeling frantic, she called Reds’ cell phone again. Still no answer. She slammed down the phone in disgust. How could such useless women—such poor excuses for human beings—put her in such a desperate situation? One thing was for sure: she was not going to blow the money that was being offered. She’d find someone to do the session. If worse-came-to-worse, she’d drive around and pick up a girl off the street.
Fifteen minutes later, in search of a hooker, Arianna cruised along the downtown streets in her Lexus. She was prepared to offer as much as three hundred fifty for an hour-long session. But the pickings on the streets were slim—there were a few hideous transvestites as well as some of the homeless, mixed in with ordinary pedestrians who poured from the bars and clubs in the area. It was the mayor’s fault! In an effort to attract the affluent back to Center City, the mayor had launched a campaign to clean up the city. Heightened police pressure had driven prostitutes away from Center City, forcing them to relocate to the working-class neighborhoods. The Kensington section of the city had become a haven for prostitutes. Arianna knew she’d have her pick from the dozens of girls who hustled under the El on Kensington Avenue, but there really wasn’t enough time to drive all the way there and back. She narrowed her search to the few streets in Center City where hookers were still known to frequent: 12th and 13th and Arch up to Walnut and parts of Broad Street.
Arianna turned up her nose at the unlikely prospects and steered the Lexus back to Naudain Street.
She made a few more unsuccessful attempts to locate Sheena, Bethany, or Reds before giving up. It was sadly apparent that if she wanted to collect the thousand-dollar fee, she’d have to do the session herself, and the very thought of dealing with a client made her shudder. This John guy would have to up the price to two grand if he wanted to have a session with her.
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