Twisted Vows of Seduction

by N’Tyse

  “Girl, I got several parts!” Ménage confessed. “And one of them was a big-ass dick!” she bragged. “And that shit was so good I can still feel it slithering up my spine,” she said, shimmying in her seat for emphasis as she occasionally took a pull off the cigarette.

  “Say what! Bitch, you done went down there and snagged you some of that New Orleans grocery meat.”

  “Baby yes. And I made a chunk of change out of it.”

  “You lucky bitch!”

  “Don’t hate! Congratulate. Ha, ha, ha. I put it on his ass so good he thought Hurricane Katrina was up in that bitch.”

  “Ewww-weee. Ha, ha, ha! I ain’t mad atcha. But was he fine though? That’s all I want to know.”

  Ménage gave Tiffany the look. “Girl, he look like Lil Wayne on steroids. Tats, dreads, and every damn thing! He looked like something out of the wilderness.”

  Tiffany scrunched his face. “Sound like he belong on aww hell naw dot com.”

  They both fell into hearty laughter and maintained that energy all the way home.

  When Ménage walked inside her dark apartment, the pungent fish odor caused her nose to turn up. She had forgotten to take out the trash before she’d left. “Got damn!” she cursed under her breath, realizing that the smell was coming from the leftover sushi she had thrown in the trash two days ago. She located a bottle of air freshener, aired the place out, then hurried to take out the garbage.

  When she returned, she checked the time before rushing to the bathroom to shower. She had at least three hours to freshen up, get changed, and get to work. Tonight was Big Titty Tuesday and she was scheduled to perform.

  Dripping wet, Ménage grabbed a towel from the closet and dried off. She quickly dressed into a pair of white sheer booty-strangling boy shorts, and a matching sheer tank. She slipped on some sandals and grabbed her traveling case, which held her outfit for tonight’s show. Also inside was a change of clothes, several pairs of g-strings, toiletries and makeup. She was going to rock the stage like she never rocked it before.

  Half an hour later Ménage entered through the backdoor of the infamous nightclub, X-Rated. Judging by the parking lot, it was a full house tonight. The energy was high, the music was bumping, and Ménage would bet that there were at least 200 rock-hard dicks upstairs, waiting to get close and personal with her. Everyone knew she was the HBIC (Head Bitch In Charge) up in there. She made the most money, had the most return customers, and all the strippers respected her hustle. In fact, those that weren’t clocking it like she was sat back and took notes.

  Ménage spoke to a few of the other girls in passing. She made it a point to be extra friendly with the waitresses. They were like her agents in a way. They found the goldmines and led her right to them. Cindy, also known as Chocolate Butter, was a white girl trapped in a black girl’s body. Ménage thought the girl was a ding bat at times, but the men loved her. She was built like a stallion and had a real pretty face, and in this game, that’s all it took to get by.

  “Hey, Ménage!” Cindy said as she walked up. “Girl, you’re going to make some money tonight. Most of them brothers up there looking for you.”

  “Already. Definitely what I wanted to hear. How’d you do?”

  “Not so good. But, hey, the night is still young.”

  Ménage nodded, knowing that was wishful thinking because once she hit the stage, she was going to suck the blood out of every dick in there while milking their pockets. So there wasn’t going to be any leftovers.

  As she began to transform, she looked up at the wall clock. It was almost time. When she was finished, she double-checked herself in the mirror, then anxiously headed upstairs to get that money.

  She waited behind the pink velvet curtain for the current slow jam that was playing to come to an end.

  “Now fellas, I got something real nice and nasty in store for you tonight,” Ménage heard the DJ announce. She peeked from behind the curtain to see that the club was jam-packed all the way from the bar to the main stage. There wasn’t an empty seat in sight and the men, and women that looked like men, began clapping and yelling for him to bring it on.

  “You already know what time it is. I know it’s Big Titty Tuesday, but this fine hot thang is what I call a double shot!” The crowd roared in excitement as they waved and flashed the money in their hands. “X-Rated, get your money together so we can pay some bills in this bitch!” the DJ hollered as he turned the pink light on over the stage. “Now show some Big Titty love for my girl, Ménage!” he sang as her theme music started to play.

  Ménage came from behind the curtain donned in a super sexy sheer leopard print bra and skirt trimmed with black fur. Her matching garter straps and seven-inch stilettos added to the wicked fantasy she hoped would fulfill her regulars and prospective regulars tonight. She swayed her hips to the song’s prelude.

  Her oiled skin was dusted in a shimmering gold glitter, and her sixteen-inch hair weave draped past her shoulders and down her back. She surveyed the club, making eye contact with every eye in the room as she moved her body to the beat beginning to fuse in.

  She began mouthing her heavily glossed lips to the lyrics of the Weeknd’s “Wicked Games” as she danced, translating the words sexually.

  “Bring your love baby I can bring my shame…” Ménage slowly began to shed her bra. As she did so, money began to fly from every direction of the room. She moved her body in a sexy rhythm as she slid out her long ornamented tongue. She squeezed her oiled luscious breasts together and flicked the leopard spiked ball across both her swollen pierced nipples, causing the crowd to go wild. She could feel all eyes on her, and that was enough to get her pussy leaking with excitement.

  “…give me all for this, I need confidence in myself.”

  She teasingly danced out of her skirt, then slid to the floor. She crawled across the stage, collecting money with her mouth and breasts. When she found her biggest tipper, she did her signature move. She scooted to the edge of the stage, spread her legs in a V-shape, and made her pussy blow bubbles. He started popping bands and began dealing out a full stack. She counted at least a grand and was positive there was more where that came from. She couldn’t see his face due to the darkness of the club, but she could see the green flying out of his hands. She found a money train and she wasn’t getting off of it.

  She lay all the way back, then jiggled her legs and thighs in the air, making her ass clap like crazy. Ménage stretched her legs into an upside-down split and motioned for her big spender to come closer. She grabbed one of the bills he’d just thrown on her, laid it across her pussy, and seconds later, the bill went twirling in the air, landing right on her stomach. She did it a second time for the non-believers. And again she blew air out of her pussy, converting Benjamin Franklin into a sexy-ass ballerina.

  Her new best friend leaned in to place his face closer between her thighs. He ran his long fingers across her pubic area and she could feel his fingers tracing her tattoo. Without a break in her performance, she began to grind on his entire arm. Money continued to pour from every direction, but the big spender whose left hand was still palming her pussy, had all of her attention right now.

  As the song came to an end, Ménage leaned forward to offer him a VIP service. “We can go to the back if you want a real private dance.”

  He removed his black Gucci shades.

  “I knew the second I walked through that door that that was my pussy on this stage.”

  “Oh my God. Slug!” Ménage uttered, barely able to catch her breath.

  “Get your shit and let’s bust a move.”

  Ménage quickly hopped up, collected all her money, and rushed off the stage. Her past had come to visit her, but she hoped like hell that it didn’t plan on staying.

  15

  Nadine peered out at the spectacular view of downtown Dallas. Her corner office suite jutted thirty-two floors above ground level and it overlooked the plentiful array of some of the finest architectural office buildings, eateries, an
d nightclubs in the city. Nadine appreciated the fact that she still had an office to sit in and a window to look out of in this political and economic climate, and even more after being penalized $200,000 by SEC (Securities and Exchange Commission) for Denise’s role in the accounting violations that overstated the company’s income by a long shot. Nadine was positively certain they would shut the doors to Platinum Crest Investments forever. And maybe if they had, she wouldn’t be under the pressure she was now.

  The past year had been challenging and every day that rolled by seemed tougher to get through. Since Barack Obama had made it through to a second term, she hoped he’d finish what he started and turn things around. Fast! Her clients, mostly wealthy Republicans, were not so easy to appease these days.

  Nadine remembered when she enjoyed coming to work every day. Now as she sat sulking in Denise’s old office, immersed in worldly problems while trying to recover from the news her partner had just laid on her, that love Nadine once had for her job seemed as distant as a childhood memory.

  She tried relaxing some by taking short deep breaths as she gazed out of the window, but that simple technique took all the energy and strength that she could muster. She had just lost another one of her large accounts, and to make matters more depressing, the volatile market wasn’t showing any signs of an early turnaround. The stock market had slumped again resulting in the Dow and S&P closing out at an all-time low yesterday. Even the annual percentage yield on the ten-year Treasury note wasn’t looking pretty. Nadine sighed deeply, terrified to see what today’s numbers were going to look like.

  Ring!

  Nadine picked up the call on the first ring. “Nadine speaking,” she answered, seeing that it was Belinda, her new office assistant.

  “There’s a Mr. Adams here to see you,” Belinda said.

  “Who?” Nadine asked more in disbelief.

  “Greg Adams,” Belinda repeated.

  Nadine rolled her eyes at the mention of the name. She cleared her throat. “Go ahead and send him back, please.” What in the hell does he want?

  “Will do.”

  Nadine sat up straight in her chair. She lowered the soft jazz music coming from her computer and waited for him to enter her door. The door slowly opened and in walked the man she’d hoped she’d never have to see again. “What do you want?” Nadine unloaded without so much as a greeting.

  Greg walked slowly toward her spotless glass desk, but not before checking out her office as if he were searching for something.

  “Excuse me.” Nadine waved her hand. “I’m over here.”

  Greg finally made himself comfortable in the chair directly across from her before even being offered a seat. “Is this how you greet all of your clients?” he asked, eyeing her strangely. “Or am I just special?”

  Nadine’s face twisted into a disgusting frown. “Why are you here, Mr. Adams?”

  “The last time I checked, I still have money here,” Greg replied. “So I have every right to be here.”

  He smiled, but Nadine wanted to slap the taste right out of his mouth. Everything about him had her on edge and she hated that eerie feeling she got whenever he were in the same space as her. She pressed her lips tightly together and looked at him.

  “In fact, how is the market treating me?”

  She inhaled sharply. “If you don’t mind, I will have Veronica go over your financials with you.” Nadine reached for the phone to call the other broker, but before she could pick it up to dial Veronica’s extension, Greg put his hand on top of hers to stop her.

  “I didn’t only come here for that,” Greg said finally.

  Nadine placed the phone back on its hook. She pulled her hands in and with her back to the chair, she fixed her eyes on his. “Well, then what exactly did you come for?”

  “I came to apologize.”

  “Humph! Apologize?” she questioned dubiously. Her menacing stare could burn coal.

  Greg nodded his head. He began to look around the office once again before resting his sights back on her. “This office reminds me of her so much.”

  Nadine sighed and looked away. She wasn’t interested in hearing this. She shifted in her seat, clearly uncomfortable and annoyed.

  “Nadine, I’m sorry for making you hate me so much.”

  Nadine was rendered speechless. Her hard fixation seemed to soften on its own as his apology left his lips. She had to ask herself if she really did hate Greg or if she was only acting this way toward him because she knew what type of dog he was. He hadn’t done anything to Nadine personally, but he had done a whole hell of a lot to Denise. She had sacrificed her entire life for him. Her husband for him. Her friendship for him. Nadine had asked herself many times if she and Jeff would have ever given in to each other if he had not felt that Denise was cheating on him. The answer always made itself crystal clear. No! He wouldn’t have come on to her if his marriage was intact and Nadine wouldn’t have felt she needed to be his emotional pillow. None of it would have happened if it weren’t for Greg, she made herself believe.

  Her eyes followed Greg’s as he stared at an old photo of her and Denise. It was a picture of the two of them in Hawaii four years ago. Nadine had come across the picture cleaning Denise’s office. She pulled it out and kept it on the table stand next to her so that even at work, Denise’s presence would be there.

  “And I’m sorry for whatever stress or discomfort my involvement with Denise might have caused everyone,” Greg continued.

  “I don’t hate you, Mr. Adams,” Nadine interjected. “I…wish I didn’t have to live with the fact that I knew about the two of you.”

  Greg kept a straight face as he tried to complete her thought. “Like she knew about the two of you?”

  Nadine grimaced. “Humph. Excuse me?”

  “You and her husband that is,” he added matter-of-factly.

  Nadine felt her stomach sink to the bottom as her entire body tensed. She couldn’t believe Denise had told him about her and Jeff. How could she do that? Nadine wondered what else this man knew about her.

  “I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she lied, trying to play it off as best she could. And she thought they were getting somewhere.

  “Look, Nadine. I’m not here to point fingers, air dirty mattresses, or to place judgment. Everyone makes mistakes and we all have our secrets that we have to protect,” he said smugly. “And at the end of the day, I would hope we can let bygones be bygones so we can put the past behind us, once and for all.”

  Nadine couldn’t stomach much more of this. Is this what this bastard called an apology? Because it sure as hell didn’t feel like one anymore.

  “Look, can we just skip all the punctilious incidentals of my life, and get to the bottom line of why you’re really here?” Nadine asked sternly.

  The amused look on Greg’s face vanished as time ticked away. He brushed his salt-and-peppered beard with his broad palm then leaned further back in the chair. “I need a favor,” he admitted finally. “The securities that I have with you. I would like to gift them.”

  Nadine thought she had lost all of her senses. “You would like to gift them?” she repeated for clarification.

  “Yes. And I would like to expedite the process as much as possible.”

  “I must make you aware of the tax…”

  “Please. I’m pressed for time on this,” he said. “I appreciate your concern, but I’ve already consulted with my tax adviser regarding this matter. So the quicker I can get this handled, the better off I’ll be.”

  Nadine saw the desperation in his face and hoped like hell this wasn’t any funny business he had going. She began typing away on her keyboard to pull up his account information. He was already under the microscope.

  “I can start the process now, but I will need the brokerage account information of the recipient so that I can initiate the transfer.”

  “I have everything you need.”

  Nadine’s fingers pecked feverishly across the key
board. “What’s the name of the organization, Mr. Adams?”

  “Please, just call me Greg.”

  Nadine took her eyes off the screen to address him as so. “Greg,” she enunciated sarcastically.

  Greg chortled to himself. He flattened his tie over his chest. “It’s not an organization,” he elucidated. “It’s a…personal friend.”

  Judging by the smile in his dark cavernous eyes, the projection in his forehead, and his furtive nature, Nadine suspected that this personal friend was more than that. She wondered if his wife knew about this, or if she ever knew that her husband was a two-timing low-life. Too bad the poor thing would have to find out the hard way, Nadine thought.

  “Well, I’m saddened to be losing your business,” she lied.

  “Ha, ha, ha.” Greg’s eyes were locked on hers. “No you’re not. You and I both know damn well that I’m the last person you wanted to see in your office today.” He chuckled again.

  Nadine diverted her eyes and began typing again. She couldn’t argue with that. She liked to think that if he disappeared, the past secrets surrounding her and Jeff’s relationship would somehow disappear too. “Mr. Adams, who…I’m sorry, Greg. Who will the stocks and bonds be transferred to?”

  “Naomi Brooks,” he said, pulling out his wallet. He pulled out a folded piece of paper that had all the information Nadine would need to complete his transaction.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to preserve some of your shares in…”

  “No,” Greg said adamantly, cutting her off before she could finish her sentence. “I would like to transfer all of it.”

  There was a moment of pause.

  Nadine continued to take down all the necessary information to complete his request. She willed herself to let it go, but the words were dying to come out. “Oh yeah, and how’s the missus?” An inconspicuous grin spread across her lips, matching the one he had held earlier. She looked up at him. “She seems like a very lovely woman.” Nadine smiled while Greg only stared at her stone-faced, and in stony silence. That was enough to let Nadine know his wife was not up for discussion.