by Desiree Day
“Hey B, I’m home, where are you?”
Bianca giggled. He did the same thing every day; he’d roam their mansion, yelling her name until he found her. Fortunately, he didn’t have far to look, he knew that she would either be in their master suite, the media room or, in this case, the kitchen.
When he stepped into the kitchen she jumped into his arms, he twirled her around and kissed her passionately. He easily handled her petite frame. Married for just two years, the honeymoon glow still surrounded them.
“Did you have a good day?” Howard asked after he set his wife down. He looked lovingly in her eyes.
“I did, I met Sierra for lunch, we did a little shopping—”
“How much of my money did you spend woman!” he asked feigning anger. He wasn’t worried; his wife was very prudent when it came to spending his money, that was just one thing on a long list of qualities that he loved about her.
“Just a couple grand,” she joked. “I saw a pair of Louboutins that I had to have.”
His dark brown eyes shined with amusement. “You just exceeded your shoe allowance, no more new shoes for the rest of the year,” he retorted.
“Come on Daddy, help a sistah out,” she playfully begged. “I know that I’ll need more shoes, we’re only in the middle of the year.” She lowered her voice then whispered, seductively, “I’ll do anything for more shoes.” Bianca stroked his face.
He arched an eyebrow. “Anything?”
“A-N-Y-T-H-I-N-G,” she spelled out.
Howard carried his wife to the great room, where he set her on the couch. He slid one strap of her sun dress down over her shoulder then quickly did the second one.
“Take it off,” he said roughly.
Bianca slipped off the flimsy material and kicked it away, leaving her wearing only a thong. Howard knelt in front of her, so that her breasts were inches away from his mouth. He eagerly brought a nipple into his mouth and Bianca groaned, she clasped his head bringing him closer and forcing him to gorge himself on her breast. When he was done with one breast he moved to the second.
Howard kissed his way down to her mound and her lush lips pressed against her thong. He slowly moved his tongue over the flimsy fabric of her thong, tracing her pussy, his saliva mixed with her juices made the fabric transparent.
Bianca grabbed the itsy bitsy piece of string that was holding her thong together. “I’ll take these off.”
Howard stopped her. “Nu uh, you said you’d do anything to earn your shoe allowance. And for right now, I want you to keep them on.”
“Oh, okay,” Bianca said with a pout, while reluctantly playing along. She wanted to feel his tongue on her clit.
Howard reached up and ran a finger over Bianca’s thinly veiled pussy. He felt her legs wobble. He knew exactly what to do to bring her to her knees. Howard pushed the wet material to the side exposing her pussy. He leisurely moved his tongue through her wet creases and when he grazed her clit, her knees bent. He caught her in the nick of time.
“Come on, I got something for you.”
“Howard!” she protested. “I liked what you were doing.”
“I could tell. Grab two pillows. Follow me,” he instructed, then walked away. He stopped at their grand spiral staircase. He snatched off his shirt, then T-shirt, his pants, shoes and socks quickly followed. “Take off your thong.”
Bianca pulled it off and threw it on top of his pile of clothes. Howard admired his wife’s body. His eyes showed his appreciation and so did his hard dick.
“You’re sexy as hell baby. Now put one pillow on one step and give me the other,” he instructed, and she did. “Now kneel on it, but don’t face me, I want to see your ass.” She positioned herself exactly as Howard wanted.
Howard placed his pillow on the step right below Bianca’s then kneeled on it. He grabbed his wife’s waist and slowly eased his cock inside her. “How does this feel?” he whispered in her ear.
“You feel good; your dick feels so good. Go fast for me,” she begged.
“Ah, this is why I love you.” Howard picked up the pace, his pelvis smacking Bianca’s ass. She cried out with every thrust, she pushed her ass into him forcing him to go deeper, and he did. Bianca braced her arms on the steps, using them as leverage. Their bodies made a loud smacking sound as Howard’s dick slid smoothly in and out of her.
Bianca reached between her legs and stroked his balls, she delicately squeezed them, and Howard’s strokes became faster.
Bianca’s hand dropped when his dick slid over her G-spot. “Oh baby, keep that stroke, don’t stop, you’re hitting my spot. Oh.” By the way his wife’s body tensed he knew she was close to coming. He kept the same pace, when she began whimpering and her body started trembling that was his signal to let go. With a loud shout, he exploded inside her, the same time her orgasm overwhelmed her.
They fell on the stairs in a sweaty heap.
“Wow! That was amazing,” Bianca croaked. “Where did you learn that?”
“Hey, a man gotta have some secrets.” He kissed her softly on the back. “Come on, let’s go shower, then eat.” He picked her up and carried her upstairs to their bedroom where they showered together.
Howard licked his fingers. “That was delicious. I think I gained ten pounds since we’ve been married.”
Bianca smiled at the compliment. Howard was in even better shape now than he was the day they married, they both were. They made a commitment to workout together in their home gym. Their hard work paid off, their bodies were the envy of their friends. “You just worked five of them off about an hour ago.”
He winked at her. “And hopefully, I’ll work off the other five tonight.”
“I’m sure you will,” she replied coyly. “Are you ready for dessert?” She had made a fruit parfait, something light for the hot summer night.
“There are so many ways I can answer that,” Howard drawled. “But I’ll be good; I’ll have whatever you made.”
She cleared the dishes from the table, a task she didn’t mind, she liked taking care of her husband. And since they were eating in the kitchen at their marble countertop island, it made cleaning up easier.
After everything had been cleared, she pulled the parfaits out of the refrigerator and placed them on the table. Howard dug in. “The perfect ending to a perfect dinner, thanks honey.”
They were enjoying the refreshing dessert when Bianca broke the silence. “Babe, Sierra wants to go to Miami for the Fourth of July weekend, will it be okay if I go?”
“Sure, you didn’t have to ask. Actually it’s a good idea since, I’ll be in L.A.”
His foundation was hosting a huge fundraiser that many celebrities had committed to participating in. She originally had a catering job, but it was cancelled two weeks ago. By then it was too late to buy a reasonably priced ticket. Even though Howard was a multi-millionaire, he was still very thrifty, much to the delight of his financial advisors.
“Are you sure?” she asked, suddenly having second thoughts about her plans for the Fourth of July Weekend. “I can use some of my money to buy a ticket.”
He smiled warmly at her. “Keep your money. You’ll need it for your trip to Miami. I’ll survive without you. I’ll miss you like hell, but I’ll survive. Besides Sannaa Lathan will be there and I don’t want you cock blocking,” he joked.
“Asshole!” she said playfully.
“But you love it.”
“I do. Very much so.”
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Brooke Witherspoon frowned at the inch-high pile of bills stacked on her coffee table. The first of the month was quickly approaching and the bills were due. She mentally started two lists: The MUST be paid and the MIGHT be paid. She pulled out a small taupe colored envelope, the gas and electric and started the MUST be paid pile. The next to be moved over to the MUST be paid pile, was her car payment, the mortgage, cell phone, daycare and water bills. She left her cable bill, three credit card statements in the MIGHT get paid pile.
; She turned to her computer and logged into her checking account to view it, she studied her bank statement, it was horrible. Brooke was afraid to see how awful it really was this month. Sitting next to her stacks of bills was her calculator; she reached for it and began the nasty job of paying her bills.
Her head began to pound as she meticulously reviewed each bill, calculated the amount from her balance, and if there was enough, she’d write the check. If not, it went into the MIGHT get paid pile, which; hopefully, would be paid on the fifteenth, when she got her second paycheck for the month.
Suddenly her four-year-old son, Jaden, ambled into the room, giving her a respite from her bill paying. “Mommy, I want a drink of water.”
All the fear and irritation that Brooke felt a second ago evaporated when she saw her son. Her heart melted, she set down her pen and picked up her baby. Even though he was too big to be held, she couldn’t resist. Jaden was the perfect age, where she could still smother him with kisses without him balking and swatting her face away. After kissing him, she carried him to the kitchen for a cup of water. He took the tiniest sip, which to her, looked like all it did was wet his lips.
He looked just like his father; he had his gray eyes, curly black hair and caramel color. His father, a gorgeous Créole, had come to Atlanta looking for a new life after Hurricane Katrina had destroyed his home.
By the time she carried Jaden upstairs to his room, he was already asleep. She tucked him into bed, kissed him on the forehead, and then marched back to her bill paying.
Brooke meandered across the employee cafeteria to the cashier, occasionally nodding at her co-workers. She had been working for Lionel’s, an international home improvement corporation, as a programmer for ten years; she had made a number of good friends. Normally, she’d join them to catch up on the company gossip while drinking her coffee, but this morning she had a meeting with, Ruben, her manager. And she had some reports she wanted to clean up before meeting with him. She took a sip of her black coffee and grimaced when it stung her tongue. But she liked it hot and black, once it got lukewarm; she couldn’t stomach it and usually tossed it. I really need to cut this out. Her two-dollar-a-day treat really added up. She did the calculations the night before and decided that her coffee money could go toward paying a bill.
After she paid for her coffee, she meandered to the elevators. She was sipping her drink when Malynda, one of her colleagues sidled up to her.
She looked around before leaning toward Brooke. “I heard that there’s going to be some layoffs,” she whispered.
“Really? Which department?” she asked, bored, she really didn’t care, the same layoff rumor floated around every couple of months and nothing ever happened, besides her mind was on getting those reports completed. She shot an impatient glance at the elevator.
“I don’t know, but my contact in Human Resources, said that these are going to cut deep. A lot of people are going to be affected.”
The elevator’s bell dinged and Brooke stepped forward, poised to step on when the doors slid open. “So when are they going to make the big announcement?” Brooke asked, before stepping on the elevator, with Malynda on her heels. She pushed her floor number, so did Malynda.
“Sometime within the next couple of days,” Malynda announced excitedly. She loved gossip, and when it came to the goings on of the company, she was better than TMZ.com. “They’re going to do it in waves.”
The elevator stopped on Brooke’s floor and she stepped out. “Thanks for the scoop. I’ll talk to you later.” She waved at Malynda then hurried to her cube. “I need to get those reports done before my meeting with Ruben,” she muttered.
Brooke knocked on Ruben’s office door before entering. He pulled his gaze away from his laptop long enough to nod at her and motioned for her to close the door. Brooke did so and sat in one of his chairs across from his desk.
He had been her manager for the last five years and she loved working for him. Out of all the managers in the company, not only was he the nicest one, but he was also the smartest. He could run rings around his colleagues. While his cohorts had a Master’s in Computer Science, he trumped it with a Doctorate in Computer Science.
“How are you doing today?” he asked somberly, and a ribbon of fear cut through Brooke.
“I’m fine,” she answered cautiously.
Ruben sighed. “There’s no easy way to say this.”
“I’m getting let go, aren’t I?” she asked, her voice quavering.
Ruben nodded. “It’s not just you, it’s the whole department…including me. The head honchos decided that it would be more cost effective to relocate the entire I.T. department to India. I’m sorry,” he said, still reeling from the news himself. He only had a few hours to absorb it, he was told last night, during a late night meeting after most of the employees had left for the day.
Brooke thought about her never ending bills and the possibility that she might not be able to pay her mortgage rattled her. She started crying. “What am I going to do?” she sobbed.
Ruben pushed a box of tissues toward her, Brooke snatched out a few and dabbed at her eyes. “You’ll be fine,” Ruben answered. He opened a folder on his desk. “You’re getting four months of severance pay, you’ll have access to our resource center, they’ll help you write a resume—”
Brooke whimpered and Ruben hesitated at the sound, he hated doing this, especially to Brooke, a single mom whose son’s father was an absentee dickhead. He knew because he served as her mentor and they occasionally lunched together where she updated him on her life.
With a heavy heart Ruben continued, “Since the beginning of the month is quickly approaching the company will let you have health insurance until the end of the upcoming month, after that if you want insurance, you’ll have to sign up for COBRA. There’s information in the folder about rolling over your 401k or keeping it here. I know that this is a lot to absorb right now, I know that you’re in shock.”
She fixed a tear stained gaze on Ruben. “I’m more than in shock, I’m in a shitload of trouble,” she croaked.
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J’Twan, J.T. for short, Morrison, quarterback for the Atlanta Jaguars, sat across from Marcella Narozzi, his publicist. “This is fucked up. You know that don’t you?” she barked not pulling any punches.
J.T. nodded. “I know.”
“This is a public relations nightmare.” She sighed, then strolled over to the window and looked out over the skyline. The sun was just setting, casting a honeyed glow over the city. After twenty years in the business she had seen it all and had cleaned up more messes than a cleaning lady. No scandal or soon-to-be scandal was too big. Her biggest coup was creating a campaign that convinced the residents of a small town to drink the water after traces of pharmaceutical drugs were found in it. She polished tarnished images, she was the Spin Doctor. Marcella was the lady to go to when people needed things fixed and they paid her handsomely for it. She clasped her hands behind her back. “You know that I respect you?”
“I do.”
“And you know that I always have your best interest at heart, don’t you?”
He did, Marcella had been his publicist when he first signed to the NFL, he trusted her totally. “I do.”
“And you know that I don’t give a fuck about your lifestyle don’t you?”
“I do.”
She turned away from the window. “But everybody isn’t as understanding as I am.”
“I know, but—”
She threw up her hand. “The video was pulled from boobtube.com and all the celebrity gossip websites, but naturally we can’t retrieve the video from the people who have it in their private mailboxes. I called Barry—”
“Oh shit!” Barry Nevins was the owner of the Atlanta Jaguars.
“I needed to go on the offense and not the defense, that’s one thing that I learned while representing athletes. I told him that it wasn’t you in the video,” Marcella reported in clipped tones.
“And he believed you?” J.T. asked, his voice hopeful.
Marcella shrugged. “He didn’t fire you,” she said dismissingly. “I think he was suspicious, but that’s all it is. And I don’t think that he wants to wrap his head around the fact that his one hundred million dollar quarterback might be gay.”
“Did he see the video?” J.T. tentatively asked. Barry controlled his future in football, one word from him and his career would be over. J.T. didn’t want to do anything that would piss him off.
A short thirty second video clip had leaked on the Internet showing him giving head to another man. Fortunately the amateur video wasn’t that great, so he wasn’t outed…this time. The lighting and sound quality was horrible; a college freshman film major could’ve done a better job.
He had been feeling extra horny that night and had a friend of his arrange for a couple of men to get together. They had gotten a cheap motel room on Moreland Avenue, the type of place where occupants were quickly forgotten as soon as they paid the fifty dollars for their room. The group had spent the night drinking, smoking and popping pills and doing things to each other that left even him, an award winning quarterback, sore the next morning.
At the time he didn’t know that he was being videotaped, after all the weed and alcohol he had consumed that night, they could’ve taken him to Piedmont Park, a popular gay hangout in Atlanta, and had him run around naked and he wouldn’t have protested.
If it came out that J.T., the quarterback for the Atlanta Jaguars, was gay, it would ruin him.
“What am I going to do?” he groaned. “It’s a sad thing that America won’t accept a gay quarterback. I’m a man who happens to love men, that doesn’t make me any less of a human being does it?” Every day he got the urge to run outside or go on TV and tell everybody that he was gay but he squashed the urge, knowing that the backlash would be horrible.
Instead of answering his question, Marcella strolled over to her wine cabinet and pulled out a bottle. She handed it over to J.T. for him to uncork it. Marcella pulled out two wine glasses from her mini china cabinet and set them on her desk. As soon as J.T. filled them, she lifted hers. She brought the glass up to her nose and inhaled deeply, the aroma instantly calmed her. She sipped while J.T. nervously tapped his glass. “I’ve given this a lot of thought.”