by Diana W.
“Send them in,” she commanded and lowered her arm.
Within seconds, a door opened just like the service entrance in his room, and in walked six, leggy, mahogany-hued women in black garter sets. They stood evenly spaced out with their heads lowered and faces hidden behind their lace masks.
Madam Sinclair swept her hand in front of her as if to say please check them out, and Cornell adhered to her prompt. He stopped in front of each woman, carefully assessing her individual contours and fine lines. One had beauty moles splashed across her body like stars in the rural night sky, and another possessed hips wider than the valleys of the Grand Canyon. They were all above average height. All thick. All busty. All incredibly attractive. He had no doubt that he would be satisfied with any one of them. When he stopped at the last candidate, he felt her gaze burning into him like a laser, even from behind her mask. She hadn’t bothered to keep her head lowered like the others. No, this one was displaying a little act of defiance. Making her presence known. Causing an erection that Cornell had to inconspicuously shield with clasped hands in front him. The rebel hadn’t even spoken and already had him curious for a reason to be obsessed.
“Never forget why I run the business that I run.” Madam Sinclair triumphantly placed her hand on Cornell’s shoulder as she joined in on his observation of the woman who finally dropped her head like the others.
“Oh, I won't.” Cornell had to give credit where it was due.
“Tell him your name,” Madam Sinclair requested with a fresh renewal of arrogance.
“Eden,” the woman replied assertively, seeming unfazed by her observers.
Madam Sinclair smirked at Cornell’s fixation. There was no reason to ask what she already knew. "Eden, please make your way to Mr. Q’s room.”
CHAPTER 8
The smooth taste of the Louis XIII cognac washed the last of the lingering bullshit of the day away and shut Cornell’s eyes in warm satisfaction, but the sound of the service door opening in his newly upgraded presidential suite quickly forced them open. He turned around to see the woman whose web he’d gotten entangled in downstairs walking toward him with a box in her hands.
“I was told to bring this to you.”
Her voice was smoother than jazz music at midnight as she stood a grab’s distance across from him and flipped open the wood grain box, revealing a set of packaged Cohibas.
Cornell nodded and glanced down at the cigars but couldn’t stop his gaze from drifting upward to her breasts that were all but begging to be sucked on at levels that would make commercial vacuums blush.
Seeing the intention in his eyes, Eden placed the box next to his drinking glass.
“The fuck are you looking at?”
Taken aback by the question and her unexpectedly extreme aggression, Cornell’s eyes narrowed. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me.” She took a step back and unbuttoned the front clasp of her black lace bra, letting her breasts bounce freely. “Was it these?”
The same rush of blood he experienced selecting her had returned with a vengeance. Anastasia, at least, temperature gauged him with casual conversations before switching gears, but the rebel had just solidified her dominance between the two.
A lick of his lips was his reply although the increasing bulge in his pants could have very well answered for him.
“Do you think I should let you touch them?” She slowly massaged each mound, lifting one up to give a gentle kiss to.
Cornell’s throat tightened. "You should.”
“Is that right?” Eden dropped her head back and moaned while she pinched and tugged at her chocolate nipples. “What do I get if I let you?”
From behind the safety of her mask, she could see her power over him manifesting. His eyes spoke of a building desire that if she kept feeding would spill over like water in a teakettle on an open flame. His calm facade wouldn’t be able to conceal it.
Cornell cupped his erection that was becoming too painful to keep to himself and stepped forward. He was so close that she could feel the heat of his breath against her bare skin.
She leaned forward and positioned her lips near his ear. “Is dick your offer?” Her whisper was purposely condescending.
“No.” He closed his eyes and inhaled what he was certain was jasmine. “A big dick is my offer.”
Eden stifled an involuntary snort because she couldn’t afford to ruin this interaction. Not even at his arrogance. “Hmmm.” She grazed her lips over his earlobe and lowered her gaze in time to see him clenching his fist to refrain from touching her.
“I think I have other plans for you.” Eden slid her tongue up his neck and stood upright with a devilish smirk that she was sure he couldn’t see.
She placed a firm grip on his broad shoulder and walked behind him to assist with removing his suit jacket. Once discarded, she hung it gently on the wall hook near her. From behind, she slid her hands past his waist and then unbuttoned and unzipped his pants.
“I think you’ve been waiting on this.” She submerged her hands into his briefs and began massaging the brick she knew she caused. Cornell’s shoulders dropped and he was unable to stop himself from moaning. Eden hated to admit to herself that his “big” reference was almost too modest of an adjective.
Shaking the thought, she stopped her assault and began unbuttoning his dress shirt. “Pull it out for me,” she commanded.
Following instruction, Cornell pulled out his more than generous length and began stroking his girth to give himself some relief. He never thought blue balls were an actual thing until this very moment. He was certain his had skipped into another shade and turned purple.
“Did I ask you to do that?!” Eden scolded and pinched his nipple so hard that he hissed.
“Fuck!” he barked from the frustration of the pain combating his pleasure.
“Nah...you can’t fuck.” She spat into her hand and began to stroke him at a dangerously slow speed.
“Yo.” Cornell had to steady himself, resting a hand on the table for the support. “Shit, I'm about to—"
“About to what?” Eden abruptly stopped. “I didn’t tell you to do that shit, did I?”
“No...no.” Cornell was about to gnaw his bottom lip off, afraid he'd shoot off at any second. His dick spasmed like it was possessed. “I can’t—”
“You can’t what? Hold out?” Eden continued to taunt him. “You mean all that mouth and money and you let little ole me own you?” She started stroking him again, reducing her speed significantly to a stroke every few seconds. “Tell me that I own you.”
Cornell gritted his teeth, the pounding of his heart loud like a war drum. She was toying with him and it pissed him off how much he was enjoying it.
“Tell me.” She increased the pressure of her grip, eliciting more expletives from him in between his groans.
He clenched on tighter to the table’s edge. If she made him hold out any longer, he’d spontaneously combust or be forced to mercilessly fuck her where she stood.
“You...own me.”
Victorious, Eden smirked arrogantly and stretched her neck up so she could get close enough to his ear. “You’re fucking right I do. And for that...” She pumped her hands feverishly and felt his entire body tense up.
“Ohhhh fuck!” His eyes snapped shut and his body violently jerked until spurts of hot, sticky liquid shot onto the floor.
Cornell’s ears were ringing, his vision blurred. With his head dropped back, he tried catching his breath, not bothering to remove himself from Eden’s hold. Mentally, he felt as if he had just skydived off the Empire State building. It transcended anything he’d ever experienced before, and that was exhilarating yet frightening. What did it mean? What did that signal about his depravity?
Reality returned when Eden removed her hands from around his deflating dick. Cornell did his best to seem composed and pulled up his pants that had slipped to his thighs during their earth-shattering encounter. He reached for the unfinished drink before Eden’s
arrival and almost forgot his manners. Anastasia would usually indulge with him for a sip or two after they finished.
“Would you like a glass?” He turned around to the sight of Eden walking toward the service entrance.
“No, thank you.” She barely turned around to respond.
Confused, Cornell approached her from behind and gently tugged at her arm. “Hey, there’s no need to rush out.”
“Sorry...there’s an emergency I need to tend to.” She didn’t offer him her attention and quickly pressed the code on the keypad and exited.
Cornell stood there as the door closed in his face, wondering what the hell just happened.
CHAPTER 9
Harley did a slow spin on her bare heels and put the wooden spoon near her lips.
“Happy feelin’s in the aaaaairrrr…” she crooned better than Frankie Beverly and Maze before shoving the spoon into the bisque that was starting to boil. She’d gotten home a little over an hour ago after a full day of errands and pampering, which included a trip to the salon to get a touch-up on her faux locs.
She heard the front door of the apartment open and smiled. She couldn’t wait for Gianna to taste Grandma Loyce’s famous recipe that she was certain she finally perfected.
“Hey—”
“Harley, what the fuck!” Gianna slammed her hand on the counter, sending the thankfully closed bottle of cayenne powder near her, rolling onto the kitchen floor.
Harley stared at the innocent bottle and then back up at her sister. “Well, buenos noches to you too.” She cheerfully went back to her pot. Not even Gianna’s drama queen antics could ruin her mood right now. It was impossible.
“I’m only going to ask this once.” Gianna’s chest heaved. “Where. Did. You. Get. The. Money. From?”
Harley put the spoon to her lips for a taste. After a few smacks, she reached for the crab boil and added just the slightest pinch to the pot. “Does it matter?”
“Yes, it matters! Especially when I go to pay the rent, and they say we don’t own anything until sometime next damn year.”
Harley stirred the bisque a few times and sampled the flavor again. This time, she smirked in satisfaction. “You’re welcome.”
Gianna held her forehead. “Why do you have to constantly put us in the middle of bullshit? Is it that hard to be normal for once in your life and go find a shitty job to make money?”
Harley took a deep breath and reached for the fresh crabmeat she purchased from the outdoor market near the docks. None of that artificial pink and white crap that she knew was made from fish testicles or something worse. She dropped a heaping amount into the pot and stirred, lowering the heat enough to let it simmer.
“Because I’m not normal. Wasn’t put on this earth to be normal. And don’t wanna be normal. That’s not my story.” Harley put the spoon down and began cleaning off the counter.
“No, you’d rather your story align with our father’s, right?” Gianna eyed her with more disappointment than anger.
“Rather his than mom’s.” Harley turned the knob on the faucet and threw the chopping board and measuring cups she used into the sink.
“Wow.” Gianna thought about their mother’s funeral that took place less than two years ago. “You are so disrespectful.”
“And you’re ungrateful.”
“Ungrateful?” Gianna scoffed. “You really have the gall to call me ungrateful? Everything I do is for you!”
Harley squeezed the sponge in her hand and closed her eyes. “And I do the same, even if you don’t realize it.”
Gianna shook her head and backed out of the kitchen. “Whatever you’ve gotten yourself into this time, I'm not getting involved.”
“I don't recall asking for your help or your judgment.” Harley gripped the edge of the sink. “But there’s corn and crab bisque if you get hungry,” she declared to her pissed-off sister who disappeared down the hallway.
“Welp, more for me,” Harley mumbled and did a little dance while continuing to wash the dishes.
When she finally restored the kitchen back to its normal neat and cleanly state, she took her bowl of soup and sat cross-legged on the sofa. Survivor was coming on in a few minutes, and it was the cherry on top to end her already perfect day. Who didn’t like watching modern-day Lord of the Flies drama unfold in the form of physically intense games and secret alliances amongst strangers? It was such a metaphor for the real world. The pretending just to get by. The secret crabs in a barrel. The questionable hygiene practices of others. She’d been a faithful follower of the show since the dark times when they couldn't afford cable. As long as the bunny ears of the antenna were gangsta leaning in the right direction, she was tuned in.
Just as the first challenge of the episode was about to commence, Harley heard a few methodical beeps. She was confused at first but quickly realized it was her special cell phone ringing. She carefully placed the hot porcelain bowl wrapped in a kitchen towel on the coffee table and rushed to answer it.
She shoved her hand into one of the pockets of her purse and retrieved it, flipping it open to answer.
“Hello,” she whispered.
“If the sheep go beep then the cows go—”
“What?” Harley’s mouth twisted.
“I said... if the sheep go beep then the—”
“No, I heard you, but what the fuck does that weird shit mean?”
“Really?” Bernard sighed. “How many times have we’ve been through this?”
“Look, you already got me using a god damn flip phone. I will not join you with the secret password riddles shit too.”
“First off, you know this phone doesn't have GPS on it, which is why you’re using it,” Bernard replied defensively. “And second of all, I use password riddles to make sure it’s really you.”
“Why wouldn’t it be me?” Harley rolled her eyes. “Who the hell would want my flip phone, Bernard?”
“No names! God!” Bernard all but screamed. “Are you trying to get us both killed?”
“If it means not having to use this flip phone...possibly.” Harley smiled at her sarcasm, knowing how much it drove Bernard insane.
“I swear this is the last time I do this shit with you.”
“Yeah, yeah.” She waved him off as if he could see her. Harley was waiting on him to burst into flames for telling that lie again. “What’s up?”
“I’m making sure you tossed the card already. I told you to use it for twenty-four hours max and at three to four places tops.”
“Umm, are you confused about who you’re talking to?” Harley quickly made her way to her personal bathroom so she could have some sort of privacy. “This isn’t a new thing.”
“No, it’s not, but you didn’t swipe some regular person’s card either, did you?”
“You know me.” She shrugged and stared at her nails. “I’m an overachiever by nature.”
“You mean reckless when motivated,” he chastised. “Just tell me you got rid of it so I can rest peacefully tonight.”
“Yes...Bernard,” she said his name just to annoy him again. “I got rid of it. Goodnight.”
“Nighhhht,” he sang and hung up.
She closed the stupid phone and reached into her back pocket and pulled out the faux credit card Bernard had duplicated for her. She’d definitely been using it for two days in a row at more places than she could count, but she’d adhere to Bernard’s warning and finally get rid of it. It’s not as if somebody that wealthy would notice how much she spent. He or his accountants should have better things to worry about. She’d gotten her payback and then some for the situation with Gianna.
CHAPTER 10
“You have a nine o’clock with Research and Development management about the new all-natural bathroom cleaner product line, a lunch meeting with your father and Richard to go over the acquisition proposal presentation, a two o’clock with IT to discuss the recent security system changes they are planning to implement company-wide, and a steakhouse dinner rendezvo
us with a one Miss Victoria ‘tell me how pretty I am because my self-esteem needs attention’ Johnson at seven.” Cyn rolled her eyes in complete annoyance. “I cannot believe you’re meeting up with her again after her little vegetarian tantrum and at a steakhouse, no less. What is she gonna eat? The lemon that comes with the water?”
Cornell casually shook his head. “Careful, Cyn, your claws are showing.”
He was always amazed at how comfortable she’d become discussing the women he entertained from time to time, but she was more like family than an employee, so it never bothered him. Cyn practically shoved her way into his life during her interview three years ago when she made a comment about how disinterested he seemed to her responses, which ironically made him want to hire her. She wasn’t afraid to speak her mind, which was a necessity when it came to managing his somewhat intimidating personality. Additionally, her backwoods Mississippi accent was always a source of amusement, no matter how much she tried to clean it up. He likened her to the country version of Peaches from a “Low Down Dirty Shame”, from the close-cut hairstyle to her diminutive frame. Unlike Jada Pinkett-Smith, however, Cyn’s lips were full and wide, accompanied by a pointed nose and almond-shaped eyes on her slender face.
“Yeah, whateva.” She walked past him in her navy floral pantsuit and cream-colored heels to organize the documents in his briefcase and shoved a bag of trail mix into one of the pockets. “I get that she offers you all the unmentionable things but paying her rent, Cornell? That’s taking it kind of far. Your frugal ass barely paid for her Uber the last time y’all were together. What changed?”
“Rent?” Cornell froze. “The sex isn’t even good enough to cover the light bill. Where did you get that ridiculous idea from?”
Cyn returned the same crazy look he was now giving her, more so about the light bill jab, but her perfectly arched eyebrows lifted.
“Well, Allen called all perturbed about not being in the loop when your money starts going toward rent for people that aren’t family.” Her eyes dropped as if she was trying to piece it all together. “You don’t think it’s your brother, do you?” She whispered like they weren’t the only two in his home. Mia made her nervous enough to think she’d bugged Cornell’s entire place, just to catch Mo red-handed. She involuntarily witnessed her wrath during the birthday dinner for their father last year when Mo was confronted by one of the bartenders that worked at the restaurant.