Risqué 3

by Perri Forrest

  Suddenly, there was a light tap on my shoulder, followed by, “I swear on my own life, that I’ve never seen a man wear a hat the way you’re wearing that hat. You have to let me buy you a drink…”

  I smiled at her boldness. A bold woman intrigued me; especially when she carried her confidence the right way. This one was beautiful, with a killer body that I couldn’t help but admire, from top to bottom, when she slid onto the barstool next to me.

  “I was actually about to go back to my table and tell my boy that I was calling it a night.”

  “That’s good. And can we call it a night together? I mean, I’ve watched long enough to know you’re not waiting for anybody.”

  “Observant…”

  “Interested…”

  “Hmm…” I nodded, approving the not-so-subliminal messages she was downloading. “Okay…”

  “So, if you’re game, I have a few hats that I want you to try on back at my place.”

  “You sure about that.”

  “I’m positive.”

  “Let me hear more about these hats,” I flirted.

  She reached out and dragged a finger across the buckle on my belt. “So… they come in all sizes, some even have flavors… and they’re all made of latex. Snug and secure.” I looked down at her hand, then back up into her big, brown eyes. She smiled at me, then tilted her head just so, as if waiting for me to respond. “Yes? No? Maybe so?” she finally said, when I let the statement linger.

  “Are you serious?” I asked her.

  “Dead-ass.”

  I smiled. “Okay, I’m with that.”

  “Glad to hear it.”

  “Let me go let my guy know that I’ll talk to him later.”

  “Perfect,” she said. “I’ll be waiting…”

  46 | CICELY

  Cicely stepped from around her full bar where she had poured two glasses of Effen Amore—with two and a half parts vodka, instead of just two. That extra half was going to give the drink a boost, and that boost was something she needed with the week she had had. Putting out fires… big and small… was a part of her job. Shit, in a perfect world Cicely would love nothing more than ‘smooth sailing’. But the world wasn’t perfect, and smooth was too good to be true. And sometimes, grim situations had to happen. Sometimes it was just a necessary part of the job—all to protect the business.

  Although this last situation had nothing to do with the needs of her elite clientele, it still required special attention. Because if viewed on an organization chart, it touched her business by a thick, dotted line. That fact made it her business. Nevertheless, despite the complexities she sometimes faced in her business, Cicely loved what she did. She wouldn’t trade it for the world. It gave her life purpose. So, whether good or bad, it was business as usual.

  And now that it had been taken care of, Cicely had resolved to taking some much-needed time to relax.

  “This drink looks almost as good as you, CiCi. What is this anyway?” her company asked, inspecting the light-pink beverage.”

  “It’s Effen Vodka, tonic water, and peach juice.” She chuckled. “Mine has a bit more vodka than yours, though. I truly need it.”

  “Oh, so you watered me down, huh?”

  “Don’t let the look of the drink fool you. It packs a nice little punch. Give it a try; and if you want more sin, I’ll be happy to make that happen.”

  Her statement was suggestive in nature, and Cicely was well aware of that fact.

  “More sin, huh?”

  “Sin…” she confirmed, with emphasis.

  “So, question.”

  “Shoot,” she said.

  “Is all that for me?”

  Cicely crossed one soft brown leg over the other, a part of her purple satin robe falling from her thigh and exposing the base of her hip. She brought the alcoholic beverage to her lips and sipped; never taking her eyes from her guest. The whole while, she watched his gaze remain locked in one place.

  “You can’t even focus right now,” she teased. “What makes you think you can even handle this? If it was for you…”

  He looked up into her eyes from his seat next to her. “Oh, trust. I have no doubt that I can handle it… if it was for me. I would just need a green light.”

  “And therein lies my point,” she said, coyly.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You said all you’d need was the green light.”

  “Right. Permission to enter… from you.”

  Cicely smirked, then casually replaced the fallen silk over her thigh where it belonged.

  “Sweetie, any man that waits for permission to make his move, isn’t for me.”

  A grin opened across his face. “What’s wrong with asking for permission?” he asked, eager to hear a response that resonated.

  “Lewis, sweetheart… a man that can’t make the first move is much too soft for my taste. You can’t even see what I’m saying to you. Your mind’s gone way to the extreme. I’m not saying that you take what you want. I’m saying if a man is interested, the last thing he needs to be doing is gawking. At least not without being able to do something that makes a woman want to gawk back. You haven’t made me want to gawk back, Lewis. In fact, I’m thinking you should probably get going.” Cicely reached out to take his drink away. “Let me relieve you of this, so that you aren’t driving to your destination under the influence. No matter how minimal the influence is.”

  She stood from her seat, wanting to laugh out loud at the shock on Lewis’s face. Lewis, with his golden-brown skin, full lips, and deep, penetrating eyes, was an extremely attractive man. Because of those alluring points, Cicely was aware that he’d probably never been dismissed in such a manner.

  “You sure?” he asked, surprised.

  “I’m positive. Nothing was going to happen anyway, Lewis. I like you. I think you’re very nice-looking. But Trevor is dead set against anything intimate happening between us. He’s like a son to me, and my business partner. The level of respect that we share is genuine, and will always remain intact. I just wanted to see what you were made of.”

  Lewis bobbed his head slowly, while processing the fact that not only had he just been tested, but that he had also been played. He surveyed her. How sexy she was. How ‘about it’, she was. He couldn’t even muster anger towards her, for what he felt was borderline disrespect. He was too busy wanting to sex her.

  “Understood. But know this,” he said, towering high above Cicely’s head. “There’s nothing soft about me. And as far as me knowing what I want and taking initiative when it’s time to have it… I got all that.” He looked down into Cicely’s eyes. “It’s just you. There’s something about you that makes me move a little differently than I would with other women.”

  Cicely smiled at the Terrance Howard lookalike. There was a part of her that wanted to lay him down and ride him like the stallion she knew him to be. But there was a bigger part of her that knew if she did that, he would never leave. It always happened that way.

  “Thank you for coming by, Lewis. It was nice getting to know you.”

  “Same here,” he said, on their way to the door. “We’ll talk later?”

  “We certainly will.” Cicely turned the knob to her door, then pulled it open. “Maybe I’ll have you and Trevor over for dinner before you leave.”

  There were a few moments of silence, before Lewis spoke again. “Or… since I’m already here, I could have you for dinner. Or at the very least a snack…”

  47 | TREVOR

  “Treevor…” The soft voice was followed by lingering kisses on the back of my shoulder blade. Convinced that I was dreaming, I didn’t budge. I was sleeping too good for my peace to be disturbed. But then, there was another kiss. That one came with an extra warm, extra soft pair of breasts pressed into my back, and an arm around my waist. “Trevor…” she whispered, her mouth breathing hot air across the entrance to my ear. “I know you hear me. Wake up, sleepy head.”

  When the blanket of softness moved, it cau
sed me to stir a little bit. As soon as I did that, and cracked my eyes open slightly, I noticed that nighttime had come and gone. It was actually morning, and the sun had already started to rise. Damn. That was new. I hadn’t slept through the night in a long time. Not even with the meds that the doctor gave me. Not even with the Melatonin. Not even with a shot or three…

  I rolled over on my back, slowly opening my eyes all the way. There stood Skai hovering over me, smiling. Then it all came rushing back… just like the blood rushing to my erection beneath the sheets.

  “Hey…” I said, reaching for her hand.

  She put her hand in mine. “Hey you. I didn’t think you were gonna wake up. I was about to go and toss this food in the garbage that I made for you. It won’t be any good, cold.”

  I leaned up a little bit and spotted the tray near the foot of the bed. There was a trail of steam floating above whatever savory dish she had prepared.

  “You cooked? Man, that’s sweet as hell.”

  Skai was surprising me over and over with her actions. She had pulled a three-sixty. I was enjoying the fuck out of it, and going with the flow. I had spoken my peace—plenty of times. It was her turn.

  “I did cook. It’s the breakfast that I didn’t get to make for us the other day.” She smiled. “You’re hungry, right?”

  “Always. Especially, if you’re on the menu.”

  Skai shook her head, then blushed. “You’re always, always on, man.”

  “Alright,” I said, erecting for a better view of the matching plate and saucer. They sat atop a bed tray, covered with clear lids that had tiny holes at the top. On the same tray was a cloth napkin, and a glass of ice. “So, what’s the feast that you ordered from Grub Hub?”

  “Grub Hub? Please!” she laughed. “There’s nothing Grub Hub, Uber Eats… IHOP can bring you that’ll be better than what I hooked up. I told you; this girl’s been cooking full meals since she was twelve. She’s something like a connoisseur.”

  “Well, I’m a connoisseur at eating, so…”

  “Trevor!”

  “Okay, I’ll stop.”

  “Thank you!”

  “For now...”

  ~*~*~

  “Damn, Skai. You just ran circles around IHOP and my grandma, with those fluffy-ass pancakes. Like, maan… talk about good.” I wiped my mouth with the cloth she had given to me. “I can’t believe that in all the time we’ve known each other you never blessed my stomach with these. I feel robbed.”

  She shrugged. “Never needed to. We’ve always been too busy hitting up all the good restaurants. We were never trippin’ off of homecooked stuff.”

  “Well, I’m trippin’ off of it now. I think you may have to make me a batch before you go back to New York. I’ll stick ‘em in the freezer.”

  “Yuck!” She chuckled. “Not the same.”

  “It will be to me,” I told her, after filling my mouth with scrambled cheese eggs. “Man, this food—”

  “Why were you sleeping so hard?” Skai blurted out, cutting me off.

  “You’re funny! Don’t act like you don’t know that there’s power in that flower. You put it on me, Skai. That’s why I was damn near in a coma.”

  “Stop!” she laughed, bashfully, covering her mouth. “Just tell me why you were sleeping so hard. I tried to wake you up a few times, Trev. For real. No jokes.”

  “I was tired, Skai. It’s not a big deal.”

  Skai was quiet after that, eating small bits of food from her plate. I knew she was thinking of ways to get an answer that would sit right with her. I just wanted the question to be forgotten.

  “You’re not sleeping good… are you? You’re always up, Trevor. No matter what time I call you. Day or night. You’re always up.”

  “Would it make you feel better if I didn’t answer your calls?”

  “No. It wouldn’t. It would make me feel better if you just told me the truth. We crossed this line from friends to lovers, Trevor. You should be able to tell me anything—more so than before.”

  “And I do, Skai. We talk about everything. It’s always been that way.”

  “Not right now, it’s not.”

  “Skai. Damn. I already told—”

  “But you’re not telling the truth,” she stated calmly. “I just don’t wanna be worried about you when I leave. Is it the shooting? Do you still think about that or something? Have you tried therapy? That might—”

  “Let it go.”

  “What?”

  “Let it go. Is this you trying not to discuss me and you? And the ‘What now?’ of it all? Because we both know how you like to deflect.”

  She looked down briefly, tearing a small piece of her sausage. “I don’t have a problem discussing that. I’m glad that we can be intimate, and still be friends. No strings attached. We just do stuff; and at the end of the day we’re still Trevor and Skai.”

  “Okay.” I nodded. “As long as you can handle that. Being friends with benefits, I mean.”

  “Umm… yeah, I can,” she said, sounding unsure as hell.

  “Can you?” I asked her, making sure.

  “Absolutely.”

  “Alright.”

  “So, I guess we’re about to be like Justin and Mila in that Friends with Benefits movie.”

  “A movie, Skai? For real?”

  “There’s really a movie called that,” she insisted.

  “Yeah. Okay.” I put my plate on nightstand next to the bed. “How about you put that plate aside and come back here so we can make our own movie. Or you one and done?”

  Skai smiled, then ditched her plate on top of mine. “Not one, and for sure not done,” she said, slipping back under the sheets with me, so we could pick up where we left off.

  48 | ELISE

  Elise checked herself in the pink handheld mirror, retrieved from the small makeup bag inside her purse. She wanted to make sure that no hairs were out of place on her pixie cut, and that her makeup was intact. Presentation was everything—especially today. She didn’t want Alyssa walking into the law offices with that smug look of victory on her face, and not be all the way together. Yes, she had a point to prove—that Alyssa’s shenanigans hadn’t broken her. That she was as strong as ever. That she was ready to settle on Alyssa’s demands and move the hell on. Elise had already come to terms, that today, might be the last time she saw her sister. That today might also be the day that they spoke for the last time.

  They say that you can’t pick your relatives, but you can pick your ‘family’. Alyssa was proving to be that relative, that didn’t quite qualify for what it took to be family. It just was what it was. Blood didn’t necessarily mean that you’d be bound forever. And Elise wasn’t the one that set that chain of events into motion. Alyssa had done that all on her own.

  After approving her look, Elise tucked the mirror away and pulled up the Word Wars app and played her turn from the night before. It was her favorite pastime. Except of course, when she was losing. Losing wasn’t her thing, and she had no business forfeiting a game when her score wasn’t the leading one.

  Laughing to herself, Elise put the final letter down to rake up the ninety-two points she was about to get. Just as she hit the submit button on her masterpiece, in walked her attorney, Craig Chase. He walked alongside a guy she didn’t recognize. By the man’s stern look, though, she deduced immediately, that he was Alyssa’s counsel.

  Tall. Dark-skinned. Nice physique. Expensive cologne. Alyssa had more than likely fucked the man. He was definitely her sister’s type. But so was every other man with a little bit of status.

  Craig, set about with introductions. “Elise, this is David Slaughter.”

  Elise stood to her feet, then reached across the cherrywood desk to shake the hand he had extended. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Slaughter.”

  “Likewise.”

  Elise leered over his shoulder, and to the door. “Is Alyssa with you? Running late?”

  “Not exactly.”

  Elise looked to her at
torney, and then back to the visitor. “What does, ‘Not exactly’, mean… exactly?”

  David Slaughter sat in one of the high-backed leather chairs and then placed an expensive-looking briefcase on top of the table. Seconds later, he retrieved a letter-sized envelope and slid it across the table in Elise’s direction. “This is for you,” he informed her.

  Elise’s name was written across the envelope. She recognized Alyssa’s handwriting immediately. “What’s this? Some additional demands that she knew would piss me off? Is that why she’s not here?”

  Slaughter hunched his shoulders, then clasped his hands in front of him. “Was for your eyes only, but clearly stated that I needed to be present when you read it. So, here I am.”

  “Craig, do you know anything about this?”

  “Not at all. Just as much in the dark as you are. Do you need a letter opener?” he asked.

  “Umm…” Elise looked down at the mysterious document. “I think I got it,” she said, slowly picking it up from the table.

  Elise slid her finger across the sealed flap to open it, and an odd feeling overtook her. She sat the envelope aside, then proceeded to unfold the single sheet of monogramed paper. Both men carefully observed her movements; anxiously awaiting the ball to drop.

  “Elise…” Craig called out, a few moments in. “What does it say?”

  “It…” Her voice trailed, while scanning the words, written in longhand. “Umm…” She stalled once again, seemingly in her own world, while slowly digesting the message. Elise wanted to respond. But she was so wrapped up in the visual before her, that talking became difficult.

  “Ms. Brown?”

  Elise’s brown eyes rose from the paperwork. She stared ahead at nothing in particular, then spoke. “Says she’s… that she’s… uhh…” The rest of her words came slowly. “…that she’s sorry…”

  The attorneys looked to each other in slow motion, bewilderment engulfing them. “And that’s it?” Craig questioned. “What does it say in its totality?”