After Hours

by Rochelle Alers

  “I need to make more money, not have it taken away,” Dina said recklessly. “I have a daughter….” The admission was out before she could edit herself.

  Sybil’s lips parted in surprise. “You have a daughter?”

  Dina bit back the acerbic words poised on the tip of her tongue. She didn’t know why, but people tended to believe a lie before believing the truth. “Yes, I have a daughter. She lives with my grandmother. I send them money every week, and if you cut my hours, then that’s not going to be possible.”

  Sybil wanted to ask Dina what size she’d been before she’d had her baby—a zero? Because now she couldn’t be more than a two. “I’ve already committed to increasing Lisa’s hours, so reversing my decision is not an option. But there may be something else you could consider.” The seconds ticked off as the two women regarded each other.

  “What is it?” Dina asked after a swollen silence.

  “Do you dance?”

  She went completely still. “Dance how?”

  Sybil leaned closer. “Do you know how to dance like the girls in hip-hop music videos?”

  Unconsciously Dina’s brow furrowed. “Are you talking about a video ho?”

  Sybil nodded. “I’d prefer to call them backup dancers.”

  It was Dina’s turn to nod. “Yes, I can imitate their moves. Why?”

  “I want to help you out, Dina, but I’m not certain whether you’ll accept what I’m going to propose to you.”

  “What are you proposing?”

  “Occasionally I host private bachelor parties for athletes, CEOs, politicians and entertainers, and they usually want exotic dancers as part of the entertainment. You can earn more from one party than you can from a week of waiting tables. Your identity will remain anonymous because you’ll wear a mask.”

  A slight frown marred her smooth forehead before easing. Sybil’s proposal had answered her prayer. “How often would I have to dance?”

  “It varies. Maybe once a week, then it can be weeks before you perform again.”

  “How will I be paid?”

  “I’ll pay you. And it will always be in cash.”

  A flicker of apprehension rushed over Dina. Had she traded a male pimp for a female one? There was a lethal calmness in her eyes when she stared at Sybil. “How much of a cut do you want?”

  “What are you talking about?” Sybil hadn’t tried to hide her annoyance.

  “Do I get a flat fee or are you going to take a cut of what I earn?”

  The chef’s expression was thunderous. “Are you suggesting that I’m trying to pimp you?”

  Dina’s impassive expression didn’t change. “No, I’m not. I just want to know where we stand. If I didn’t need to make more money, then we wouldn’t be having this discussion.”

  Sybil sat up straighter. She’d underestimated and misjudged Dina Gordon. This was the second time she saw hardness in her that wasn’t overtly apparent. The first time was when she’d threatened to castrate the man who’d touched her. Under the pretty face, demure demeanor and fragile femininity was a young woman who didn’t scare or get easily intimidated.

  There were only a few women Sybil truly respected, and Dina had just become one of them. What Dina didn’t know was that she was dealing with someone who was as hard as she was. She had to be to survive her horrific childhood without going to jail for premeditated murder.

  “You need money and I said I’d help you out. But you’re going to have to do whatever it is I ask of you.”

  “I’ll do it as long as it’s legal.”

  Sybil smiled. “Don’t worry—it’s legal.”

  Dina nodded. “Okay.”

  “I’m going to send you to a friend of mine who’s a dance instructor. I’ll pay for your lessons and pay you at the same time. I’m also going to have a costume designer fit you for a costume that you’ll wear during the parties.”

  “What kind of costume?”

  “She’ll decide that. Whenever you’re not waiting tables, make certain you rest up, because Carlos is going to put you through an intense workout that will push your body to extremes.”

  “How many lessons will I need?”

  “Carlos will determine that. I have a birthday party for a baseball pitcher that will be held during the All-Star break, so you don’t have much time to get your routine together.”

  “When is it?”

  “The game is the second Tuesday in July, so that leaves you about five weeks to get ready.”

  “Will the party be here?”

  Sybil shook her head. “No. Whenever I contract for a private party, it’s always off-site. The party will be held on an estate near the Chesapeake.”

  “Maryland?”

  “Yes, Maryland, Dina. I’ve already made arrangements for a driver to take us down and back. Do you think you’re up to the task?”

  Dina wanted to tell Sybil that she didn’t have much of a choice when she weighed her options because she knew Payne hadn’t issued an idle threat. If he said he was going to take care of someone, he did. He knew enough miscreants who’d take out their mother for a price.

  “Yes.” She’d said the word with such conviction that Dina actually believed she was ready to do anything Sybil asked of her.

  It was funny how life had thrown her a vicious curve. As Adina Jenkins, the street hustler with the too-bright seductive smile, she’d only thought of herself. Now she was Dina Gordon, trying to right all of the wrongs, and life was coming at her fast and furious.

  You are a descendant of survivors. Your ancestors went through hell for you to be here today. She didn’t know why, but Karla’s words were never far from her thoughts whenever she felt like giving up.

  Two black women she never could’ve imagined had changed her life, and there was no way she was going to disappoint either of them.

  CHAPTER 34

  The flickering flame from candles on a low table on the terrace bathed Dina’s face in a luminous glow that fired the gold in her eyes and skin. Lance, unable to pull his gaze away from her, took a swallow of his wine. He couldn’t remember spending a more pleasurable evening with a woman.

  Setting down the glass, he picked up a napkin and touched it to the corners of his mouth. “The dinner was wonderful, baby girl.”

  She smiled at him. “Thank you.”

  Dina had promised Lance she would cook for him, and with the decrease in her work hours she’d finally fulfilled her promise. When she asked him what he wanted to eat, his response had been Surprise me. She’d surprised him with rosemary roast Cornish hens, garlic mashed potatoes, sautéed green beans and homemade yeast rolls.

  He winked at her. “I have a confession to make.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I didn’t believe you when you said you could cook.”

  Dina traced the rim of a goblet of sweet tea. “Why?”

  He lifted his shoulders under a loose-fitting white linen shirt. “You don’t seem that domesticated.”

  Her gaze met his across the small space. “Do you care to explain what you mean by domesticated?”

  Lance ran a hand over his face. “I think I just put my foot in my mouth. You know what I mean.”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “Help me out, Dina.”

  Her mouth twitched as she tried not to smile. “Why should I? Are you interpreting domesticated as not housebroken or not fit for marriage?”

  Pushing back his chair, Lance came around the table. He eased her from her chair, cradling her to his chest. “I don’t ever want to hear you say that again. You’re the perfect—”

  Dina had placed her fingers over his mouth. “Don’t say it, Lance.”

  His fingers circled her wrist, pulling her hand down. “Don’t say what?”

  Tilting her chin, she stared up at him. “I’m not who you think I am. And I’m certainly not perfect.”

  “I don’t care who you are, Dina,” Lance countered. “All I know is that I enjoy being with you because you’re
never boring. You make me laugh when I don’t feel like laughing. I—”

  Dina stopped his passionate entreaty when she kissed him. It began as a tentative joining, deepening when his tongue gently parted her lips. His hands came up, cradling her face as she arched toward him.

  All of the men she’d known ceased to exist for Dina when she gave in to the delicious sensations taking her beyond herself. She was soaring, floating outside of her body to a place where she’d never been. His mouth moved lower to the column of her neck as she curved her arms under Lance’s broad shoulders, holding on to him as if he were her lifeline.

  “Stay with me tonight,” he whispered hoarsely.

  Hot tears sprang up behind her eyelids. She wanted to sleep with Lance and experience what it meant to be a woman—a real woman. When she told him she was a virgin she hadn’t lied altogether. Yes, she’d slept with men, but she’d never felt passion, or experienced an orgasm.

  Everything she knew had come from porno flicks: the moans, groans, screams and the different positions. Men never knew that she’d choreographed and faked every move because their egos wouldn’t permit them to believe that they weren’t the best lover she’d ever had. There were times when she got out of sleeping with them when she told him she was on her menses or she’d gotten them so drunk that they fell asleep as soon as their heads touched the pillow.

  “I can’t, Lance.”

  “Why not, baby?”

  “You know what can happen if I stay over.”

  “I promise not to touch you.”

  Dina pulled away from him and presented him with her back. “But I can’t promise not to stop you if you do decide to touch me.”

  Lance stepped around Dina and cupped her chin in his hand. Her eyes were shimmering with unshed tears. His gaze dropped to the fluttering pulse in her throat. She was frightened of him.

  “I’ll take you home.”

  Dina walked up the narrow staircase leading to her apartment, Lance following closely behind. He waited until she unlocked the door and stepped inside. She’d left on the light in the hallway between the kitchen and the living room.

  Winding her arms around his waist, she pressed a kiss to his smooth cheek. “Thank you for a wonderful evening.”

  He smiled. “I should be the one thanking you.”

  Dina dropped her arms and took a backward step. “Good night, Big Daddy.”

  Lance chuckled under breath. “Good night, baby girl. Make sure you lock the door.”

  “I will.”

  She closed and locked the door, listening to the heavy footfalls until they faded completely, then she turned and made her way into her bedroom. Light from the street lamp spilled into the room through the lacy curtains at the tall windows. She lowered the shades before switching on a table lamp.

  Everything in the apartment reminded her of Lance because he’d paid for the comforter, the matching dust ruffle, the shams, the throw pillows, the bathroom towels and accessories; he’d ignored her protests when he selected cookware, dishes and flatware, then informed her that they were housewarming gifts.

  Lancelot Haynes was her friend, but he was also much more. He was a man she could trust. She knew he was attracted to her, and if she were honest with herself, then she’d admit that she was attracted to him. He was older, worldly—traits she sought in a man—and he was someone who made her feel safe whenever they were together.

  Tonight signaled a turning point in her life because she’d experienced desire for the first time. She wasn’t certain how long she and Lance would remain friends, but she wanted to be prepared if or when it changed. He was expecting a virgin, and she had to make certain she could back up her assertion that she was.

  CHAPTER 35

  Karla stared at the paving stones in contrasting shades of light and dark gray in the fading light that expanded the patio by an additional one hundred feet. The outdoor kitchen was nearing completion; the contractor had reassured her that he would finish in time for her to hold her Independence Day celebration.

  She felt the warmth of a body, then a pair of strong arms around her waist over a flowing caftan as Ronald joined her. Leaning back, she rested her head against his shoulder. “What do you think?”

  “It looks okay.”

  “Okay, Ronald?”

  “All right, Karla. It looks very nice.”

  She smiled at him over her shoulder. “Thank you.”

  “I thought you’d be dressed by now.” It’d been a while since he and Karla had gone to a party with the intent of sleeping with other men and women.

  Turning in her husband’s loose embrace, Karla brushed a light kiss over his mouth. Ronald was dressed entirely in black: shirt, slacks and shoes. The color was dramatic, flattering, and he breathtakingly virile. “I’ll meet you out front in ten minutes.” She’d showered, made up her face and styled her hair.

  Ronald ran his hand over the nape of her neck. “I’m going to time you.”

  “You’re going to lose, darling.”

  “No, I’m not,” he said, watching his wife walk.

  Ronald Thaddeus King was living a life he never would’ve imagined while growing up. He’d married a brilliant, beautiful wife with whom he shared the most incredible sex ever. Their passion for luxury, lust for power and unlimited sex drive had drawn and kept them together.

  He’d had numerous affairs, but that stopped completely the first time he shared Karla’s bed. What had surprised and shocked him was that she was insatiable. At first he thought her a nymphomaniac, but when he’d asked if she was, her reply had been I want to get enough before you leave. He finally left her apartment after an entire weekend in bed, but he returned the following weekend and every weekend after that until he asked her to marry him.

  And as unconventional as Karla was in the bedroom, she was the opposite outside of it. She wouldn’t give him a key to her apartment and refused his when offered. She’d sleep with him, but refused to live together unless married. They’d had their share of disagreements, but he always compromised in order to save his marriage.

  Together he and Karla had become a super couple who were living the American dream with a multimillion-dollar mansion, luxury automobiles and investments worth millions. They worked hard and partied even harder. Life for the Kings couldn’t be better.

  He made his way to the garage, where he’d parked his truck. He started the engine when he saw Karla. Ronald glanced at his timepiece. She’d dressed in less than ten minutes.

  Getting out of the Escalade, he came around to open the door for her. Karla was stunning in a pair of black stretch slacks, a matching tank top and high-heel zebra-striped mules.

  “I’ve changed my mind about going out,” he whispered softly.

  Karla’s eyes widened. “Are you serious?” Ronald nodded. “Why didn’t you say something before?”

  His teeth shone whitely under his mustache when he flashed a smile. “I just had a change of mind.”

  Unconsciously Karla pushed her hair behind her right ear, the light over the three-car garage reflecting off the diamond stud in her ear. The diamond earrings were a gift from Ronald for their fifth wedding anniversary. She’d also given him jewelry—a gold watch with a genuine alligator strap.

  “Let’s go and hang out for a while, then we can leave.”

  “Are you sure that’s what you want?” Ronald asked.

  “Yes, Ronald, that’s what I want.”

  She wanted to be anywhere but home, watching and obsessing about whether the construction project would be finished by the projected date. She needed to interact with people who were the complete opposite of the uptight pricks at her firm, who tended to take themselves much too seriously. She’d stopped a heated discussion about the best way to handle a client’s estate when she reminded them that they weren’t talking about a cure for cancer and that they should stop wasting precious time and make a decision. The silence that followed her outburst was deafening. Two minutes later they agreed on a course
of action, and the ruse to inflate billable hours came to an abrupt end.

  Ronald assisted her getting into the vehicle, then slipped in beside her. He shifted into gear and maneuvered out of the circular drive to a private road lined on both sides with sprawling properties dotted with pools, tennis courts and a nine-hole golf course.

  “Are you all right, Karla?”

  “Yes. Why would you ask me that?”

  “You seem a little on edge.”

  Karla rested her left hand over his thigh. “I don’t know what is it, but lately the old gray suits annoy the hell out of me.”

  Ronald smiled. She always referred to the men at the boutique tax firm as “old gray suits” or “old heads.” “Don’t tell me that you cussed them out again.”

  “I was this close.” She held up her thumb and forefinger. “If I hadn’t worked so hard to make partner, I’d leave.”

  “You can still leave, baby.”

  Karla shook her head. “No, I can’t, because I don’t want to give them that satisfaction. Not when I’m the only female partner—and a black woman, to boot.”

  Ronald lifted thick, silky black eyebrows. “Your decision not to leave is based on gender and race?”

  “It’s more gender than race, because of their old-boys’-club bullshit. They get together to golf, go sailing and share drinks at the country club. If I were a black man I’d be included to join their social outings, but because I don’t have a dick between my legs I’m excluded.”

  Ronald laughed while shaking his head. “I, for one, am glad that you don’t have a dick. One dick in this family is enough.” Karla’s hand moved closer to his crotch and she massaged the bulge resting against his leg. “Dammit, Karla! Don’t do that while I’m driving.”

  Leaning over, she caught his earlobe between her teeth. “Pull over.”

  Ronald gritted his teeth as the flesh between his legs hardened quickly. “Stop it, Karla.”

  “Pull over, Ronald.” Her teeth and hand worked their magic until she felt him trembling.

  Maneuvering off the road, he drove a short distance and parked behind a wooded area with an overgrowth of brushes and trees concealing them from passing motorists. He parked and turned off the engine.