After Hours

by Rochelle Alers

  Each time he pulled out, he thrust deeper. The juices from Karla clung to the profusion of hair surrounding his shaft. And it wasn’t the first time he was thankful that he’d met and married a woman who never complained that she was too tired for sex or that she had a headache or that she had cramps. Karla King was always willing and ready for sex.

  He felt his balls tightening and tried thinking of anything else but the exquisite pleasure straining for release. He didn’t want to come. Not now. Slowing his thrusts, he cradled her breasts in his hands, squeezing gently. Karla’s soft moans had become his undoing. She pushed her hips back as he thrust forward, the slapping of flesh meeting flesh disturbing the early-morning silence.

  He forced himself to think of another of his sex partners—someone he’d met during the last swinger party, someone who’d asked to see him without his wife. It’d taken Ronald all of two seconds to give his approval.

  Just thinking of his next liaison made him harder, and then the dam broke. He pulled out, ejaculating all over Karla’s firm, round ass. She wasn’t finished, so he inserted his finger and masturbated her until she came all over his hand.

  Moaning out the last of her passion, Karla turned and smiled over her shoulder at her husband. Wrapping both arms around her waist, he pulled her back against his chest. He buried his face in her hair. “There’s nothing better than early-morning lovemaking with all of nature as a witness.”

  “You’re right. Will you join me in the Jacuzzi?”

  He kissed the side of her neck. “Yes.”

  They returned to the house and made their way up the staircase. Both knew they would make love at least once more before their guests arrived.

  CHAPTER 47

  “Are you sure you’re not lost?”

  Lance took a quick glance at the navigational screen. “I’m very sure, Dina. We should be there in less than two minutes.”

  The drive from Irvington to Oldwick had taken longer than he’d anticipated because of a horrific accident that had brought traffic to a virtual standstill along a major road. The words were barely off his tongue when he turned off the narrow winding road to see a large white house built on a rise behind an overgrowth of old and newly planted trees. The Kings lived in one of the most exclusive enclaves in Oldwick.

  Dina stared in awe at the house coming into view. Karla King lived in a mansion. Everything silently screamed opulence—from the professionally maintained landscape to the many luxury cars in a parking area at the side of the imposing white Colonial. Karla’s house was the one she’d read about in her novels, a house with grand staircases, towering ceilings and filled with priceless objects that turned a house into a home.

  She’d sent back her response card indicating she was bringing a guest. She’d debated whether to call Karla and ask if she should bring something to eat or drink, but in the end decided not to. What she didn’t want to do was appear gauche. If Karla wanted her to bring something, then there was no doubt she would’ve noted it on the invitation.

  It was to become her first social outing as Dina Gordon, and she prayed she would come through it without embarrassing Lance, her hosts and herself. Although an informal outdoor gathering, Dina knew it would not be the same as the ones she’d attended in the past.

  Lance stopped next to a late-model Lincoln, cut off the engine and came around to assist Dina. He wondered how Dina had come to garner an invitation from someone who obviously lived quite well but hadn’t asked because their relationship hadn’t progressed to where he felt that comfortable with her.

  He still found her an enigma. Just when he thought he was breaking through to get her to open up to him, she put up an invisible shield. What, he wondered over and over, was she hiding? Who was she hiding from? He’d done everything possible to get her to trust him, but she continued to keep him at a distance.

  He reached for her hand and they made their way around the back of the house, where a small crowd had gathered under a large white tent. The rear of the house was as spectacular as the front. A large shaded patio area held an outdoor kitchen with a sink and stove, an inground pool and an unlit fireplace. It was apparent the Kings had spared no expense on their home.

  Dina saw Karla with a tall man with wiry white hair, the two talking quietly in a corner. “There’s Karla,” she said to Lance. She steered him in the direction of the woman responsible for changing her life.

  Karla turned away from Rhys to see Dina Gordon and a man coming in her direction. She assumed the man was the friend she’d mentioned. “Excuse me, Rhys, but I must welcome another one of my guests.”

  She came forward to meet Dina, who’d captured the attention of most, if not all, the men in attendance. Smiling, she shook her head. There were men who claimed to be “chick magnets.” Well, Dina Gordon was a “man magnet.” A pair of navy stretch cropped pants, a navy-blue-and-white-striped tank top and white-and-blue-striped espadrilles showed off her compact body to its best advantage.

  She extended her hands. “Dina, I’m so glad you could make it.” She and the petite woman exchanged air kisses.

  Dina returned Karla’s warm smile. The attorney looked different. A pair of walking shorts, a loose-fitting blouse and sandals had replaced her tailored suit and pumps. Even her hair was styled differently. Today she wore it up in a ponytail.

  “Thank you again for inviting me. I’d like to introduce you to my very good friend. Lance, this is Karla King. Karla, Lancelot Haynes.”

  Lance nodded to Karla. “It’s nice meeting you. I have something in the trunk of my car I need to bring in.”

  Karla angled her head, studying the man. It was obvious he was older than Dina, but how old she wasn’t able to discern. There was something about him that was familiar as she mused where had she met or seen him before. Was he, she wondered, responsible for Dina leaving her abusive boyfriend?

  “You didn’t have to bring anything, Lance. May I call you Lance?”

  Lance smiled. “Of course I don’t mind. As to bringing something, I was raised never to come to someone’s home empty-handed.”

  “True,” Karla drawled. “Then I thank you.”

  Lance smiled at Dina. “I’ll be right back.”

  Karla waited until Lance walked away, then took Dina’s hand. “I want to introduce you to my husband while we wait for your friend. Then I’ll introduce the two of you to the others.”

  Dina picked up on her tone immediately. “Just in case you’re wondering, we’re only friends.”

  “I wasn’t insinuating otherwise, Dina,” Karla countered. “I didn’t invite you to my home to get into your business,” she countered.

  “I’m sorry, but I suppose I still have a problem trusting people. It’s not that I don’t trust you,” Dina added quickly, “but—”

  “Don’t apologize, Dina,” Karla said, interrupting her. “I understand where you’re coming from. Now come meet Ronald.”

  Ronald King, wearing a bibbed apron that had Griller Killer stamped on the front, checked pieces of chicken and other meats for doneness. He was as casually dressed as the others, in a pair of shorts, a T-shirt and sandals.

  Karla tapped his shoulder to get his attention. “Darling, I’d like you to meet a friend.”

  Ronald turned, his eyes widening appreciably when he saw the woman with his wife. Her gold-brown skin, black hair and incredibly beautiful face called to mind the dolls sold in toy stores. Smiling, dimples winking in his chiseled cheeks, he put down a long-handled fork.

  “Whom do I have the pleasure of meeting?” he asked in a deep voice that seemed to rumble in his chest.

  Dina extended her hand. “Dina Gordon.”

  She’d figured out Ronald King in one sweeping glance because she’d met more Ronalds that she cared to remember. Tall, with unquestionably sensual masculine good looks and believing he was truly a gift to all women, he wasn’t above using everything in his manly arsenal in his quest to seduce a woman. If she’d been Adina Jenkins, she would’ve taken speci
al pleasure in bringing the cocky Ronald King to his knees. But she wasn’t Adina, and Ronald was her friend’s husband. And just as game recognized game, freak recognized freak, and she knew unequivocally that Ronald was a freak.

  “Welcome to our home,” Ronald said politely.

  Dina smiled. “Thank you for inviting me.”

  Karla watched the exchange between Dina and her husband, reading his mind. She wanted to tell him that if he thought Dina would sleep with him, then he was sorely mistaken. There was no way she would agree to it.

  “As soon as Dina’s date comes back, I’ll introduce her to the others,” she told Ronald. The spark of interest in Ronald’s hungry gaze dimmed when she mentioned date.

  Lance returned carrying a case of imported champagne. “Where should I put this?” he asked Karla.

  Ronald went completely still when he recognized the man holding the box of wine. “I’ll take that,” he offered, taking the box and placing it on the floor next to a built-in refrigerator. “Aren’t you Lance Haynes?”

  Lance’s eyes narrowed slightly as he met Ronald’s gaze. “Yes. Have we met before?”

  Ronald shook his head. “We didn’t meet personally, but I was in your seminar in Vegas at the computer show a couple of years back.” He extended his hand. “Ronald King.”

  Lance shook his hand, smiling. “Well, Ronald, you certainly have me at a distinct disadvantage. I hope I didn’t make a fool of myself while up there.”

  “No way, man. It was worth hanging out in Vegas in the middle of July just to hear you speak.”

  Karla patted Ronald’s shoulder. “I hate to break up what I know is going to turn into computer talk, but I want to introduce Lance and Dina to the others before getting them something to drink.”

  Ronald acquiesced to his wife’s suggestion, saying, “We’ll talk later, Lance. And, thanks for the champagne.”

  Lance nodded to Ronald. He didn’t remember him, but it was apparent Ronald King knew him. What Lance found strange was that there hadn’t been that many brothers at the computer show. It was possible that Ronald came to his seminar because he’d been the only African-American facilitator on the workshop schedule, so there was no doubt he’d wanted to hear what he had to say.

  He’d spent two days in his hotel room writing, editing and rewriting his presentation. He’d been asked to talk to potential entrepreneurs who were contemplating going into business for themselves. His topic was “Begin small, think big.” The session was heavily attended because most wanted to hear how a black man had grown his company of one into one that employed thousands worldwide. Most of his company’s employees lived in Malaysia and India because it’d become more feasible and profitable to outsource his business.

  Karla introduced him and Dina to her guests. All were married couples, the women older than Dina and their husbands closer to his age. He’d discovered the Kings’ guest list was ethnically and racially balanced.

  “I’ll leave Dina to introduce you to her boss,” Karla told Lance.

  Sybil Cumberland turned when hearing Karla mention Dina’s name. Her expression mirrored surprise when she saw her. “How are you? I didn’t know Karla had invited you.”

  Dina smiled at her boss, who looked completely different from the chef who ran CJS Catering like a drill sergeant. Today she wore a red slip dress over a matching bathing suit. Her hair was loose, falling around her shoulders. She looked soft and very feminine.

  “I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want to alert you. Maybe you didn’t want to socialize with your employees.” In another week, she and Sybil would not only work together but also socialize together.

  Sybil waved her hand. “We’re not at SJC Catering, so that doesn’t apply today.”

  Dina felt completely relaxed with Sybil for the first time. “This is my friend, Lance. Lance, Sybil Cumberland.” The two exchanged handshakes.

  “It’s nice meeting you, Lance.” Her gaze shifted, her expression noticeably softening. “Here’s my husband.” Cory Cumberland had returned carrying a plastic crate filled with glasses.

  Dina thought him the perfect mate for Sybil. He claimed a nerdy type of conservative attractiveness that reminded her of her childhood friend Irving Gordon.

  “The bartender returns,” he announced loudly. He’d worked his way through college waiting tables and tending bar. Mixing drinks came as easy to him as turning on the tap for water. There was never a need to hire a professional mixologist when he was in attendance.

  He hesitated putting down the crate when he recognized the man standing next to Sybil. “Lance Haynes?”

  Lance gave him a do-I-know-you? look. “Yes.”

  Cory set down the crate. “Ronald and I sat in on your seminar in Vegas. Man, you were incredible.”

  Lance wondered about the odds of meeting two black men at a party who were in the same field as he. He flashed a modest smile. “Thank you.”

  Cory wiped his hands on the towel on the portable bar, then extended his right one. “Cory Cumberland.”

  “I guess you know who I am,” Lance teased, shaking the proffered hand. His arm went around Dina’s waist. “And this is Dina Gordon.”

  Cory nodded, barely glancing at the woman with Lance. He’d never told anyone, but he envied Lance Haynes. The man had started with practically nothing and now he was a multimillionaire. He knew he’d never achieve Lance’s earning status until he ran his own company. Whenever he bet on a horse, the roll of the dice, the turn of a card or a purchased lottery ticket, his wish was always the same—to win big so he could set up his own business.

  Blinking as if coming out of a trance, Cory looked at Dina Gordon for the first time. What he saw hit him like a punch to the gut. The woman with Lance Haynes was perfect, just as the software genius’s life was perfect. Talk about hitting the jackpot big-time. He wondered, if Lance wasn’t who he was, would Dina be with him?

  “Hello, Dina. What can I get you to drink?”

  “I’ll have a club soda.”

  “A club soda with what?”

  “Just a club soda.”

  Cory reached into the ice bin under the bar and shoveled ice into a glass, then opened a bottle of club soda and filled it with the clear sparkling liquid. He handed it to her. “What can I get you, Lance?”

  Lance perused the many bottles of top-shelf liquor lined up on a shelf behind the bar. “I’ll have a scotch neat.”

  Dina sipped her beverage, meeting Sybil’s gaze over the rim. “It’s strange not to see you cooking.”

  Sybil smiled. “I offered, but the grill-meister threatened me with bodily harm if I even breathed on his grill. You’d think I’d slapped his newborn.”

  Cory handed Lance his drink. “Lance, perhaps you can explain to the ladies that a man’s grill is like his car—you don’t touch it without permission.”

  Lance raised his glass, touching it to Cory’s when he lifted his. “It’s as easy as ABC. You don’t touch a man’s grill or a man’s car, and please don’t touch a knob on his home theater unless you have security clearance.”

  “Here, here, my brother,” Cory chanted.

  Sybil placed her wineglass on the bar and looped her arm through Dina’s. “I don’t know about you, but all this man talk is turning my stomach. Let’s get something to eat.”

  CHAPTER 48

  Ronald waited until everyone sat down at the tables under the tent to eat before he turned off the grill. He made his way over to the bar for a drink. “Wait up, Cory,” he called out as Cory came out from behind the bar. “I need something to quench my thirst.”

  “What do you want?”

  “Make me a double martini.” Resting his elbow on the smooth surface, he turned and stared at the people who’d come to his home to eat, drink, relax and enjoy a day off from whatever it was they did. “I can’t believe the Lance Haynes is sitting in my backyard.”

  Cory nodded, filling a shaker with ice. “No shit. I truly want to pick the man’s brain to find out ho
w he set up his own business.”

  “He told us how he did it in Vegas.”

  “No, he didn’t, Ronald. The man’s real slick. He alluded to it, but he never actually said how he did it. Don’t get me wrong—I loved his presentation. But he didn’t give up anything concrete.”

  “Why should he, Cory?”

  “Why shouldn’t he?”

  Ronald leaned in closer. “Just because he’s a brother you think he should spill his guts? The rest of the guys don’t do it, so why should he? Walt Disney didn’t let the cat out of the bag when it came to animation until he actually perfected it.”

  “What happened to helping a brother out?”

  “Fuck a brother!” Ronald said angrily.

  “Yo, man, lighten up,” Cory said, shocked at Ronald’s outburst. “I’m not saying he has to give away his secret for success.”

  “That’s exactly what you’re saying,” Ronald insisted. “We all start out on equal footing, but it’s the ones who go the extra step, work a little harder than the others, who become success-story heroes and heroines. Just look at you and Sybil. You’ve worked hard to get what you want. You didn’t stand around with your hand out begging for scraps off someone else’s table. You worked your ass off to put yourself through college. Cory, man, you made it because you wanted more than just enough to get by. You didn’t become a baby daddy or piss away your money by snorting shit, like so many others do when they get more than two nickels to rub together.”

  What Cory wanted to tell Ronald was that he wanted his own business; he wanted to be in charge of his own destiny, like his wife. Sybil had the luxury of accepting or rejecting whatever client she chose. He wanted to deal with projected profit margins the way she did. It’d been Sybil’s money that had purchased the West Orange property, not his.

  He hadn’t wanted to move to West Orange yet had relented because she held the purse strings. When it came to Sybil, it was never his money or her money but their money. But that didn’t make things any more palatable because he believed the man should be the breadwinner. He knew his way of thinking was archaic, but Cory Cumberland had turned into Gavin Cumberland. His father had worked odd jobs while his mother had had a secure position in hotel management. In the end, because his father couldn’t feel like a man, he left.