by Amour
He had come over to my house because I was home alone and he wanted to keep me company. We ate, watched TV, and cuddled. I enjoyed his company. I saw my soul mate in him up until we had sex. It started out so lovely. It was almost as if we were making love. He was kissing and touching all the right places. Our sex was passionate at first, but when he decided to hit it from the back, things went downhill.
He turned me around, and I tooted my ass in the air. He slid inside and began thrusting slowly, and then he picked up pace. I was gripping the sheets, and then my hands dived under my pillow and I felt my machete. It seemed like I clocked out after that. I didn’t know what triggered my anger, but for sure, I was angry.
Then he asked me to ride him. I did with no problem. I was riding his dick like a bike, and he was moaning with his eyes closed. I saw that face that I hated with a passion, and I snapped. I grabbed my machete and sliced his throat. Blood gushed out instantly, and he put his hands over his neck to stop the blood. I sliced his hands up. I continued riding him as his body jerked and twitched.
“Baby, are you cumming?” I asked when his body stopped moving. “I guess you came,” I said as I got off him. I went to the window and looked out of it. I watched the rain drop from the sky and land on my windowpane. I looked back and laughed. He should have known better.
I hurried to clean up the mess. I had to pick up Crystal from the sitter’s house in an hour. I put his body in a garbage bag, and then I put the whole thing in a large-sized suitcase. I pushed it down the stairs, and then I dragged it out to his car. He had left his keys on my counter, so I’d grabbed them on the way out. I popped his trunk and struggled to put him inside it.
After I finally accomplished that goal, I went back in and got my red leather gloves. I put them on, bolted out the door, and hopped in his car. I drove his car into the Chicago River. I jumped out before it went over the ledge. I walked about three blocks before I caught a taxi. I took my red gloves off before I flagged it down. I didn’t need the taxi driver tracing anything back to me. The taxi dropped me off two blocks away from my house. After I paid the driver and the taxi was out of sight, I started my journey home.
When I got inside my house, I sat on my love seat and cried. I hadn’t meant to harm him. In fact, I had really cared about him. I just didn’t understand what made me do the things I did and then later regret them. It seemed like I had two different personalities. It was quite weird, because out of all the murders I was accused of, this was the only one I could remember.
I was sitting at my desk at the law firm, filing papers and answering calls, when something caught my attention. He was caramel brown, maybe five-six, had a low fade, and his muscular body was covered in Rocawear. He walked up to my desk and spoke.
“I’m here to see Mr. Bennifeld,” he said with a deep Southern accent.
“Do you have an appointment?” I asked, never looking up at him.
“Yeah, my name is Clifton Moore.”
“Okay, take a seat and I’ll let him know you’re here,” I said as I looked him up and paged Mr. Bennifeld.
“Thanks, Miss Jacobs,” he said with a smile that revealed his diamond grill. I figured either he was a brother in the streets or he was in the entertainment industry, because those were the only reasons he would be wearing a grill in his mouth.
Upon looking him up, I learned that he was twenty-eight and had been charged with illegal weapons, drug trafficking, and improper use. He was from Atlanta, and he had quite a history in the illegal business.
Mr. Bennifeld called me and told me to tell Clifton to come into his office. I did as I was told, and after he disappeared behind the door, the two females I couldn’t stand came over to my desk.
“Girl, do you know who that was?” Kim asked. Kim was a loud ghetto female. She was the leader of the two. She always seemed to have an opinion when it wasn’t needed. She said she didn’t like me because I thought I was better than them, but I figured it was pure jealousy.
“No. Who was it?” I asked, guessing I had missed something.
“Clifton Moore! The heavyweight champion,” Porsha answered while rolling her eyes, as if I should have known who he was. She was Kim’s shadow. Always cosigning and tagging behind her. I was sure she had no real problem with me, but given that she didn’t have her own identity, she had no choice but to act as if she did.
“Don’t know him,” I said as I continued filing paperwork.
They smacked their lips and headed back into their confined office. I decided to Google him. The information that popped up let me know that Mr. Moore was somebody to know. He was filthy rich and very popular, and I wondered why I had never heard of him. I grew curious.
He was in the office with Mr. Bennifeld for quite some time, and when he finally made his exit, I fell in lust. He was beyond sexy, and his swag was something to admire. The two ghetto tramps rushed out of their office, asking for autographs and pictures. He did both with no complaints. He cracked a small smile and said, “Bye,” as he walked past my desk and out the door. I sat there wondering if I would ever see him again.
After my shift was over, I had just enough time to grab something to eat before going to get Crystal. I decided to dine alone at Chicago’s Home of Chicken & Waffles over on King and Oakwood. I seated myself at a two-person table by the window. I ordered quickly once I decided to have chicken and macaroni with a lemonade.
I was sitting there peering out the window, daydreaming, when all of a sudden a familiar face brought my drink to me. It was Clifton from the law firm. He sat across from me and smiled, showing his grill. I cracked a smile too. I was flattered.
“Why, thank you,” I said, grabbing my drink from him.
“No problem. If I would’ve known you was hungry, I would’ve took you somewhere to eat,” he said. His accent was making me wet.
“We are somewhere eating.” I chuckled.
“Naw, somewhere elegant,” he replied.
I raised my brow. From the conversation, I got that he was into me, but I didn’t want to be into him. I already knew how this would end, but I couldn’t stop myself from wanting him.
He told me he was single and was looking for somebody to settle down with. He had a daughter and was friends with her mother. I grew jealous of how he could brag about his daughter. Here, I wouldn’t know my daughter if she walked past me. I felt that she was in Chicago. I guessed she was so close that she was far.
He continued telling me about himself, and I was enjoying every bit of it. I told him about myself . . . well, everything I thought he should know. We sat and talked for an hour, and I was damn near late picking up my sister. We exchanged numbers, and he walked me to my car.
“This you?” he asked and laughed, obviously at my car.
“Yeah. What’s wrong with it?” I answered in defense while getting in.
“Baby, we gon’ have to get you some better wheels soon,” he said and chuckled as he shut my door.
I shook my head. My car was in good shape, and I, for damn sure, wasn’t rich. I started my car and rushed to go get Crystal.
My little sister often stayed in the hospital and had to take so many different medications every day. I always found myself going to check on her at least twice at night. I was just always thinking I’d lose her in her sleep. I prayed she would get better, but there was no telling if she would.
She attended Buckingham Special Education Center. Although she had only Down syndrome and a slew of anxiety attacks, the Board of Education felt that her conditions were too severe for her to attend a regular school and that she needed and deserved special attention. Taking care of her as if she were mine, all by myself, was a lot of work and was sometimes a bit overwhelming. Sometimes I just wanted to give up, but I couldn’t handle seeing my sister in foster care. I mean, I would have had to do the same thing had I retained custody of my daughter.
I went to go sign her out, and then I headed to her classroom to get her. She had a huge smile on her face when she
saw me. It made me smile. I helped her put on her jacket, and then we headed outside.
When we got home, I immediately made her do her homework. It was always something simple to do, but it was complex to her. She went to the kitchen table and began her work, while I went upstairs to shower. I kept replaying my conversation with Clifton and smiled. I really liked the little bit of him I knew.
As I took my shower, I let the warm water run over my body. I started thinking of all the men who had fallen victim to my cookie jar, as I liked to call it. I also thought of the events that had led up to me getting pregnant and losing my child. Some parts were clear as day to me, while others were still a blur. Whenever I reflected on the day, all I would remember was lying on the bed, screaming. No matter how hard I tried to remember the whole process, I would always come up with that one scene.
Chapter 2
It had been a long day at work, and I was beyond tired. I soaked my body in the tub for hours. Crystal was with my best friend, Tiffany. Tiffany was always okay with keeping her for a day or so. God knew I needed the break.
I decided to call Clifton. It had been a couple of weeks since we had exchanged numbers, and we had talked on the phone only once. He had called me a few times, but I had ignored all of his calls because I just didn’t want him to get too into me. It was like I would date someone, and when I finally gave him some, he’d come up missing. No visits. No calls. I didn’t know if it was because I got too attached or if my shit was that bad. Whatever the case was, it left me lonely.
He picked up after the third ring. It was loud in the background, wherever he was. I could tell he had an entourage with him.
“Long time no hear,” he said with his deep, sexy voice.
“I know it’s been a minute,” I replied.
“You haven’t been picking up my calls. I wonder why,” he stated. I could tell he had walked into a secluded room, because the noise had started to die down.
“Well, I have been really busy and, you know . . . a little unavailable.” That was the best line I could come up with.
“Really? Well, I want to see you soon. I’m in Miami right now, but I’ll be in Chi-Town next week. Don’t be unavailable,” he added. I could tell he was smiling.
“I’ll try,” I said before hanging up.
It was a Saturday, and I was completely available. I requested time off at Vision Nightclub and the law firm was closed on weekends, so I decided that the club would be the best place for me to be. I called my girl Treecy up, because she was always down for going out. As expected, she wanted to go.
I had already taken a nice long bath, so my only task was to find something to put on. I got up off my bed and headed to my closet. As I opened the closet door, I noticed a small speck of blood on the wall next to the door. I figured it came from Crystal, so I made a mental note to clean it up once I returned.
I decided the tight-fitting black dress that hung in my closet would be perfect for the night. I would wear my lovely red pumps with it and would carry my red clutch. I tossed the dress on the bed, sat down next to it, and started to rub lotion on my body. After slipping into my dress, I glanced in my full-body mirror and noticed my panty lines showing through the dress. That was a dress code no-no. I decided not to wear any panties at all. I slipped the thong off and proceeded to put on my pumps. After everything appeared to be in place, I was ready to go.
Treecy picked me up what seemed like a few hours later. She was a physical therapist assistant, so she was living comfortably, making good money. We decided to go to Vision Nightclub, only because I bartended there and we could get discounted drinks.
When we arrived, we found a good parking spot down the street from the club, but we still had to walk at least a block to get there. The line of people was wrapped around the building. Now, Vision Nightclub had a majority white crowd. You would rarely see many blacks. I had to admit, the whites knew how to party and have a good time.
When we reached the door, the bouncer, Scott, let us go right in. We never had to pay, which was a good thing. The club was already packed, and the bright and flashy blinking lights made everyone appear to be moving in slow motion. We headed straight to the bar. My mouth was watering for Cîroc Red Berry. I told my girl Brittany, who was working at the bar, to give me a cup of that and a cup of orange juice to chase it. Treecy got two shots of Hennessy, and she threw them straight back.
I met Treecy a while back. She was Crystal’s physical therapist after Crystal had a muscle spasm that locked her arm up. Since Treecy was the best at what she did, I had to give it to her for getting Crystal’s arm back to normal after several weeks of range-of-motion exercises. In the looks department, Treecy was facially challenged, no question about that. She had a nice shape and flawless chocolate skin. Her short haircut was always done, and she was always dressed in nice attire. She was born and raised in California, and she moved here to Chicago to attend college.
My girl, Brittany kept the glasses of liquor coming, and we didn’t hesitate in drinking them. After about four drinks, everything started to look the same. I decided to hit the dance floor. I tapped Treecy to get her attention. She put her drink down and leaned in toward me.
“I’m ’bout to head to the dance floor. You coming?” I asked Treecy in her ear.
“Naw, I’m going to stay here and finish these drinks.”
I got up and made my way through the crowd to get a spot that wasn’t overcrowded with people. They were playing one of my favorite jams, Black Eyed Peas’ “My Humps.” There were a lot of people dancing and having a good time, so I got in the middle of the dance floor and rocked my lumps. I spotted a few ladies on the dance floor who were dancing behind each other, humping each other. I tuned them out and partied like a rock star. After that song was over, the DJ played Rihanna’s “Don’t Stop the Music,” and the crowd went wild.
As I was vibing and whipping my hair back and forth, I spotted a cute white guy. He was wearing a tuxedo. He stood about five-seven. He had perfectly tanned skin and dark hair. The blinking lights made it appear as though he was at a standstill, alone. The girl that I was, I started to make my way toward him. The room fell silent . . . well at least to my ears.
I could hear my pumps hit the dance floor. Click. Clack. They let out smoke, which messed up my vision. By the time I made it to where he was, he was gone. I turned in a circle, looking for him. He was nowhere in sight. I looked over toward the exit, and there he was, heading out the door. I hurried over to the exit. There was something about him that I wanted . . . or maybe it was the drinks. When I finally got outside, he was standing on the curb, flagging down a taxi.
I rushed over to him and grabbed his shoulder. He turned around.
“Can I help you?” he asked in a proper tone of voice.
“Um . . . yeah. Uh, you leaving?” I asked. I didn’t know what to say. Normally, I would rehearse what I would say before I made an approach, but not this time. I had been too damn busy looking for him and hadn’t had the chance.
“Yeah, I have an important meeting to attend tomorrow morning,” he stated with a smile.
“Oh, well . . . okay,” I said, stepping back onto the sidewalk.
“I’m going to the Palmer House Hilton on East Monroe. I’ll be sipping wine and lounging. You’re more than welcome to join me,” he offered.
I smiled.
When the taxi pulled up, he opened the door for me and I got in. He climbed in behind me, and then we were on our way. I looked out the window the entire drive there. I was daydreaming how this night was going to end. I couldn’t believe I had even got up the nerve to approach this man. He must have read my mind, because he knew I wanted to go with him. I decided to shoot Treecy a text telling her that I’d left early. She texted Okay, and we left it at that.
When we pulled up to the Hilton, I was in total awe. The hotel was luxurious on the outside, so I could only imagine what the inside would look like. Although Chicago was home for me, I had never been in this hot
el. Mr. Tux paid the taxi driver and led me into the hotel. The inside was beautiful, and I couldn’t stop myself from looking around. We got onto the elevator, and neither one of us said a thing. We knew what we were here for.
We were all the way at the top when we reached our floor. The large elevator doors opened, and we stepped off. There was only one door, and that one door was to the penthouse suite. He slid his key in the lock, and then we entered. The concrete floors let me know that we would not be doing anything on them. The spacious suite had chrome finishes and was decorated in black and white.
“You can have a seat,” Mr. Tux said while going over to the kitchen.
I sat on the black love seat and rested my head on the plush white cotton pillow.
“You know, I never got your name,” he said, smiling. He took his black tuxedo jacket off and laid it across a chair at the kitchen table. He went to the refrigerator to get a bottle of wine.
“Well, my name is Laya. Yours?”
“Josh. So do you always go to hotels with strangers?” He chuckled. He began pouring two glasses of wine.
“Actually, I don’t,” I said and giggled. He was sexy for a white guy. I was never really into white guys. I was wondering if he was the type to make the first move. If not, I was always down to do so.
He came over and sat down next to me, and then he placed my glass in front of me. I sipped slowly because I had had enough to drink at the club. After about four or five sips, I decided to sit my glass down and focus on him. My vision was beginning to blur. I scooted closer to him. Whenever I was drunk, sex was the only thing I was in the mood for, and I already knew I probably would never see Josh again. Honestly, it wasn’t like I wanted to marry him or anything like that.