Zane's Z-Rated: Chocolate Flava 3

by Zane

  Adrienne looked around the dimly lit restaurant. She was beyond restless. And the waiting was breaking down her confidence minute by minute.

  Couples came in and went out as Adrienne sat there, waiting.

  And maybe it was the waiting, the posing with her clasped hands propped beneath her chin, the polite smile and subsequent “no” every time the waiter came by to ask if she wanted to go ahead and order, that made her so aware of her solitude.

  She’d given Darrell a thirty-minute grace period because, after all, she was a little early herself. But at nine-fifteen, a full hour and a half after their agreed meeting time, Adrienne was fed up.

  She was looking around her and eyeing the door, trying to plot a graceful, yet subtle exit; something hard to do in a crowded restaurant, dimly lit or not.

  And there was also the matter of the vacant room upstairs.

  When she had gone up to take a look at it earlier, it was every bit what she had imagined it would be—a king-sized bed, a whirlpool in the center of the room with enough room for two, a balcony with a view of the city.

  There was expensive champagne in a bucket full of ice with a flute on either side—her added touch. And lavender-scented spray on the crisp white sheets—her touch as well.

  Now Adrienne cursed herself for having been so forward, for assuming things were going to go so well between her and Darrell that the natural progression would be to hightail it upstairs to a room rented for the night. Even though they had discussed it prior. They had talked thoroughly about how Adrienne would be all kinds of naughty for him and Darrell would worship her body until she could no longer stand it.

  Maybe Adrienne had scared him off.

  Maybe Darrell really wasn’t used to a woman so forward, even though he had given her the impression that he was. He had said he liked a woman who knew what she wanted and wasn’t afraid to go for it.

  And go for it Adrienne did, dropping nearly three hundred dollars on a suite in a posh Chicago hotel.

  The entire thing was making a mockery of her now.

  Her hair was extra curly and flowing right past her shoulders; all the bullshit magazines she had been reading said the look was romantic. She wore a purple dress with thin straps that clung to her curvy body and stopped directly above her knees. High heels finished the look, strappy and colorful; the best accessory she was wearing and Darrell wouldn’t even get to see it.

  I can stay here alone, Adrienne thought. I could order up a bottle of wine and a dirty pay-per-view movie. If nothing else, I could take care of myself and call it a night.

  But the more she thought about it, the more pathetic it seemed; even more pathetic than meeting a man on the Internet and agreeing to meet him for dinner, drinks, and fucking.

  What had she been thinking?

  Fed up, Adrienne signaled the waiter and ordered a dirty martini, extra dry.

  He nodded.

  She drank it quickly and was thankful for the rush it gave her.

  She pulled out her wallet to pay, but the young man held up his hand, shook his head, and pointed to the left where a dark-skinned man in a dark-gray suit was sitting at the bar.

  Adrienne was prepared to nod her appreciation when he turned around in his chair, but she was taken aback by his familiar face.

  Leroy!

  And he was drinking his favorite drink; scotch and ginger ale.

  He hadn’t changed a bit.

  He came over, just as Adrienne knew he would.

  “Waiting for someone?” Leroy asked, though Adrienne was pretty sure he had been watching her the entire time and had figured out her story from the way she sat tapping her foot and throwing quick glances at the door.

  But Adrienne humored him and said, “I was.”

  “No show?”

  “Something came up,” Adrienne said quickly.

  “I see,” Leroy said, though Adrienne was convinced he didn’t believe it.

  He was straightening the collar of his jacket, smoothing his thick sideburns that Adrienne noticed had started to gray.

  It looked good on him.

  When had she seen him last?

  Two years ago? Three?

  Yes, it was shortly after the divorce; they were both still pissed about it all and avoided each other at all costs.

  “So, you’re leaving?” Leroy asked.

  Adrienne reached for her purse. “That’s right.”

  “Not hungry anymore?”

  She could smell his cologne. “Not really.”

  And suddenly Adrienne was even more pissed that the whole thing had taken such a toll on her, that she actually had lost her appetite and was considering going home and sitting in front of the television with a bowl of ice cream on her lap.

  So, just like that, Adrienne changed her mind.

  “You know what? I think I will have a bite, after all.”

  She set down her purse and picked up her menu while Leroy took the seat across from her.

  Adrienne scanned the list of entrees. If Darrell had shown up, she would have ordered a salad, but this was Leroy. She had no reason to impress him, so she got what she wanted.

  Chicken Marsala for her, stuffed flounder for him.

  Halfway through the meal, Adrienne felt Leroy’s leg brush lightly against hers under the table.

  Was he getting fresh with her?

  She let it slide.

  “You look good,” Leroy said, leaning back in his seat. His brown eyes were bright with sincerity.

  Adrienne smiled slightly. “Thank you.”

  “He sure missed out.”

  “I appreciate that.”

  It felt nice to relax, to stop caring whether her new hairstyle was still intact or her perfume had worn off.

  It was nice to put her elbows on the table and answer texts and emails while she ate her chicken, and to burp without saying, “Excuse me.”

  After all, it was just Leroy. They had been married eight years and he had seen her at her worst. And it was funny how some things with Leroy were still a natural reflex for her, like handing him a napkin and telling him he had crumbs in his beard. How she ordered water for him because he never seemed to remember that scotch wasn’t a good thing to chase your food with.

  His food half-eaten, Leroy asked, “Was dinner all you had planned, or was there something else?”

  He had that shit-eating grin on his face like he already knew the answer.

  Adrienne didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. “No, there was nothing else.”

  Leroy looked her up and down then, from her come-fuck-me heels to her cleavage-baring fuck-me dress. He knew. He had to know.

  Adrienne was serving pussy on a platter tonight and it was obvious.

  “I’m merely saying, if there was something else on the agenda, like bowling or miniature golf, I’ve got some time on my hands.”

  No, it had been neither, but she had intended to show her athletic ability tonight, and it was a shame that it wasn’t going to happen now.

  The quick shifting of her eyes gave Adrienne away.

  Leroy crossed his arms over his chest. “What? Were ya’ll going to his place or yours?”

  “Fuck you, Leroy.”

  “So, you were going to get a room?” Leroy was on a roll now.

  “Fuck you, Leroy.”

  Leroy leaned forward and whispered, “I could rent a room, you know, with a view.”

  Adrienne sucked her teeth. “You’re too damn cheap for that. You forget I know you, Leroy.”

  If Adrienne didn’t know better, she’d say that Leroy had planned the entire thing to make her look bad, but it was hard to believe that even he would stoop that low.

  Adrienne dabbed at the corners of her mouth and threw the napkin on the table.

  She had a choice; it was obvious. She could either take her ass home and leave an angry message on Darrell’s voice mail, or she could go upstairs with Leroy.

  She looked to her left where the revolving door spun slowly.
/>   It would be a cliché to take him upstairs, to fuck him in the bed that she had anticipated fucking Darrell in … so …

  She turned right.

  She said, “I’m going home, Leroy, and I’m going to need a lift.”

  • • •

  Randy Crawford was playing on the car stereo. Leroy sang softly along to “Street Life.”

  Adrienne looked at him out of the corner of her eye. “Oh, you’re a songbird now?”

  “I’m a lot of things you never thought I was,” Leroy replied with a grin.

  She let the words pass between them. She knew better than to dwell on any of it. After all, she had been married to this man.

  And she didn’t dwell on Leroy’s hand reaching over now and then either, resting on her bare thigh and knee. Except she was getting warmer sitting next to him and she wasn’t sure why, and trying to be cool while discreetly adjusting herself on his leather seats proved to be quite difficult.

  Adrienne pulled at her dress because the cocky motherfucker that Leroy was, he’d probably think she was trying to entice him.

  “You okay over there?” he asked.

  The question startled her.

  “Yes, I’m just fine,” Adrienne said through gritted teeth.

  “Thinking about your … date?”

  Adrienne could feel Leroy’s eyes on her.

  “No, Leroy, I’m not thinking about anybody.”

  “Okay, okay. I was just checking on you. I do worry about you, Adrienne.”

  “You don’t have to worry about me. I’m fine.”

  “Oh, no doubt,” he said.

  And there was Leroy’s hand again, and as if he was realizing it for the first time, this time he snatched it away.

  “Damn, Adrienne. I’m sorry about that. I wasn’t trying to cross any lines. I was just driving and vibing, you know and …”

  “And?”

  “Well, your legs; they’re soft.”

  Adrienne felt her confidence returning. “Weren’t they always?”

  “Yes, they were.”

  Adrienne could have left it at that, could have left the conversation right there, but she didn’t.

  Instead, she leaned back in the comfortable leather seat and let her dress rise farther up her smooth, mocha thighs.

  Let him have a look at that.

  Leroy glanced at her legs and stared at her.

  He turned his car into her driveway.

  It took a minute for Adrienne to get out. She had to readjust her dress, but she soon gathered her bearings and opened the car door.

  She said, “Good night, Leroy,” as nonchalantly as she could muster.

  But Leroy didn’t say good night back. In fact, he didn’t say anything at all.

  Instead, Leroy got out of the car, leaving the engine running. He looked at the house, hands in his pockets. “Did you get new shutters?”

  “Yes, along with a new roof and storm windows.”

  Adrienne knew stalling when she heard it.

  Leroy nodded slowly. “And that dress. Is that new?”

  “Yes, Leroy, it’s new. As if you’d be able to remember it if it wasn’t.”

  There was nothing stopping Adrienne from going inside the house, nothing at all, except Leroy pulled her into his arms and held her tight.

  Of course, Adrienne wouldn’t have had to wiggle much to break free, but she didn’t. She stood there and let him pull her to him.

  Leroy leaned against the front of the car, pulling Adrienne along with him. Her back rested on his chest.

  Leroy spoke softly in her ear. “Didn’t it strike you as odd that I was sitting in one of the snazziest places in Chicago and I was all by myself?”

  Adrienne nodded slowly. “You had a date?”

  “You got it,” Leroy said.

  “And she cancelled.” It was a statement rather than a question.

  “No, she came.” He cleared his throat. “Came and left.”

  He laughed that throaty laugh of his.

  Adrienne laughed, too. “Well, now I don’t feel so bad.” And that was when she chose to whisper, almost into the night, “I was going to fuck him after dinner. I was going to fuck him good, too.”

  Her spontaneous truth caused Leroy’s dick to rise against her ass.

  It was an Adrienne that she was sure Leroy wasn’t familiar with; raw and up-front, no holds barred.

  “I was planning on getting lucky, too,” Leroy said. “It was supposed to be a ‘no-strings’ type thing with a lady I met a couple of weeks ago.”

  “I think my date got scared,” Adrienne said.

  “I think mine did, too,” Leroy added, his head nodding.

  “But I’m not scared.” Adrienne’s voice was soft and raspy now, so much that she barely recognized it.

  “I’m not scared either, Adrienne.”

  “No strings?” Adrienne asked.

  “None whatsoever.”

  Adrienne began to grind against Leroy’s stiffness.

  Had he ever been this hard before? Even when they were newlyweds in their twenties, he was always so frisky and she was always so ready.

  Leroy lifted Adrienne’s dress and pushed aside her panties with his fingers.

  She was alarmed at her own wetness, but she welcomed it. And at this moment, she didn’t need more than Leroy’s fingers … didn’t ask for more than him working them in and out of her warm, wet pussy.

  Adrienne’s eyes were half-closed, her back arched while Leroy explored her.

  He finger-fucked her with one finger, then two, and finally three. And just when Adrienne was close, when she was sure she would come right there, Leroy gently moved her aside, adjusting their positions.

  He reached around and squeezed her breasts and nipples that were now hard and pressing against the thin material of her dress.

  She heard Leroy unzip his pants, heard him fumbling to set himself free from his boxers.

  Her dress was up over her hips, her ass exposed to the night. Leroy slipped inside her easily. Adrienne was reintroduced to the generous length and girth of his dick as he started fucking her slowly, steadily, right there in her driveway, bent over his Cadillac.

  Adrienne’s mouth hung open; words caught in her throat that couldn’t escape because she was so enraptured.

  She planted her sharp heels firmly against the concrete to maintain her balance as Leroy pushed against her, filling her with the sweet thickness that was his dick.

  The hood of the car was warm against her breasts; the vibration of the humming engine caused her body to tremble.

  The crisp September night air rested on Adrienne’s bare brown ass and legs, but Leroy kept her warm.

  Adrienne liked that she couldn’t see him; that every move took her by surprise.

  Was he going to move this way or that? Was he going to kiss her neck or reach around and fondle her breasts some more?

  Leroy’s fingers lightly brushed the side of her face and Adrienne took one in her mouth and sucked gently.

  He moaned.

  Always a man with a bag of many tricks, Leroy turned her over then and lifted her legs so that they rested on his hips. He hovered over her and slipped inside her deep.

  Fucking him this way had always been more intense and Adrienne kept her eyes on Leroy’s face. She watched the many ways his expression changed as he fucked her, the look of ecstasy washing over him.

  Looking into his eyes, Adrienne knew Leroy was going to come soon, but she also knew that her ex-husband would never let his go until she exploded first.

  And explode Adrienne did, coming so hard that her stomach tightened and her thighs trembled relentlessly as she gripped them tighter against his hips.

  Leroy pulled out seconds before he came, leaving Adrienne dangling somewhere between passion and exhaustion. He finished himself off with his hand and squirted the result of their coupling on her exposed pussy.

  His come was hot against her skin.

  Adrienne’s breathing came fast and h
eavy.

  Leroy helped her off the hood of the car and onto her feet. She straightened her dress while he zipped his fly.

  They exchanged their good-byes with a quick kiss on the lips, Adrienne going inside her house, Leroy backing slowly out of her driveway.

  • • •

  It was past one in the morning and Adrienne was lying on the bed, naked, when her phone began to vibrate on the nightstand. She hadn’t bothered to turn it off.

  When she picked it up, a text message from Darrell crossed the screen.

  Got caught up in a meeting at work and couldn’t call. Sure sorry I missed you.

  It almost made her smile. Almost made her want to slide up her phone and type back the words I’m sorry, too …

  Almost.

  But she put the phone down.

  Placed her hands behind her head and stretched.

  Darrell had missed his chance. She’d call him in the morning and tell him all about it.

  Then she’d call Leroy and ask him over for breakfast.

  And maybe, if she chose to, they would do it all over again.

  The Night Game

  Patt Mihailoff

  It was a summer day that started off brutally hot and extended into a steamy, irritating afternoon that ended in a white-hot night.

  Jaleel, or Jai as he liked to be called, watched Nyrah Manning with annoyance as she moved her sometimes jiggly, sometimes not, body around the dugout—talking to, but most often yelling at, a youngster preparing to go out onto the field. If he was to go for a heavy-breasted sort of woman, his tastes leaned more in the line of Star Jones after the surgery.

  Jaleel wasn’t happy that, in the interest of political correctness, Nyrah had been chosen as the assistant coach of the Haverford Middle League alongside him. They were always butting heads about who had the best strategy on the game or what position a certain kid should or should not play. Now the team was vying for the state championship, and he did not want to hear anything from this mouthy bitch.

  It was the third inning and the bases were loaded. Jai whistled and called out encouragement to his team, noticing that Nyrah glared back at him as though he was disturbing their brooding concentration.