No wonder he was so concerned with his body image. “What’s your passion? Acting or modeling?” Solay asked, eyeing him curiously.
“Acting,” he responded with a faint smile. “But I’ve only done small parts, nothing that really showcases my talent.”
“You’ve had training?” Solay leaned forward, waiting for his answer.
“Nah, not really. I had an acting coach for a minute, but he couldn’t tell me nothing; that was a waste of time. I’ma natural. True story.” A proud, fleeting smile turned up the corners of his mouth. Then his expression turned serious. “But anyway, something big finally came through for me, but now the producers are talking about they got budgeting issues.” He sighed and shook his head. “Shit is on hold…indefinitely. So you know—I do what I do. It’s called survival, baby.” He shrugged and became silent, indicating that he was through with the subject.
Solay couldn’t picture Deon handling a major acting role. First of all, he wasn’t particularly articulate. She didn’t know much about the film industry, but she imagined that actors needed to have a strong command of the English language. As far as modeling…well, Deon had a body on him. Whew, Lawd! But still, she simply didn’t peg him as a professional actor. Too many rough edges. Was he lying, making up an excuse for renting out that big, pretty dick?
She was on the verge of playing detective and asking him if he’d appeared in any movies that she might have seen, but when she glanced at Deon, his gloomy expression gave her a change of heart. It was obvious that his acting career was a sensitive subject. Solay thought it best not to pry.
It was none of her business, anyway. It wasn’t as if she and Deon were making future plans. She was merely filling the sex void in her life…and having a good time in the process.
“You killing them fries,” Deon said, ending the tense silence between them.
Solay smiled, relieved that Deon’s somber mood had passed.
“Want some more?” he asked.
Before Solay could respond, Deon had beckoned the waiter. He motioned toward the few remaining French fries on her plate. “Get her some more of them joints. Refill her drink and bring her another order of shrimp, too.”
The waiter nodded and whisked away.
Wow, Deon knew how to take charge. She liked that. Solay laughed. “As you can see, I can eat.”
“Ain’t nothing wrong with it. Your body is tight, ma. Filled out in all the right places.”
“Thanks.” She lowered her eyes, feeling flushed and tingly by the compliment—and the sexy sound of his voice. Deon was too smooth. He had her blushing and carrying on. Whether she wanted to admit it or not, she dug the shit out of him. Damn, damn, damn. What had she gotten herself into? Was there even a definition for their relationship? Whoa, she cautioned herself. She had to be careful throwing around the word, relationship…even if spoken only in her own mind. Whatever it was that she and Deon were doing, it was by no stretch of the imagination…a relationship.
I’m merely going with the flow. Grateful that I can have a good time without having Rent-A-Man run my credit card. Shit, at the rate I was going, my card would have been maxed out in no time, Solay thought as she gazed across the table at Deon.
Deon put his arm around her when they left the restaurant. “It feels good having you next to me.” When they reached his Harley, Deon kissed Solay’s cheek. He handed Solay her helmet and straddled the bike. “Still scared?”
“Not at all.” Being a little tipsy, Solay was suddenly fearless. Catching a cab was the farthest thing from her mind.
“Hop on, boo.”
Solay climbed on the back of the Harley and clung to him—her boo.
This time, the ride on the expressway was exhilarating. The wind against her face felt good.
And when they arrived on the side street that led to her private apartment, she got off of the motorcycle and invited him in. Fuck the fact that she had to get up in the wee hours to bake and run her business. She couldn’t deny it; Deon had her sprung and he could get it—whenever he wanted it!
CHAPTER 19
Deon sat with his back against the headboard; Solay sat between his outstretched legs while he massaged her shoulders.
“Your place always smells so good. I don’t even have a sweet tooth, but when I’m here my taste buds start acting up, craving cakes and pies and all kinds of shit that I don’t even normally eat.” Deon and Solay laughed together.
“That sweetness that permeates the air is one of the benefits of living over top of my bakery,” she said playfully.
“So how’d you get into the cupcake game? Did you have to take baking classes?”
“The women in my family—my mom, grandma, all my aunts—they’re all great bakers.”
“Oh, yeah,” he murmured, applying pressure to her upper back.
“Uh-huh. I learned a lot from my family, but I’m like you—I have natural talent,” Solay boasted.
He fell out laughing. “Ahhh, I hear the way you slipped that in. You tryna check my ass.”
“I’m just saying—”
“It’s all good. So how’s it working out for you?”
“Having my own business is a dream come true. I was in the corporate world for three years after I graduated from college. I had this plan—work and save for ten years, and then strike out as an entrepreneur. But about eight months ago, I decided that it was time to take a risk and go after what I really wanted.”
“I dig that. You followed your dreams and it paid off. That’s whassup, baby.”
“And I want more. I plan to branch out with bakeries all over the city. Actually, I want the name Scandalicious to be recognized on a national level.” She’d blurted out her most cherished secret, and then ducked her head down, feeling a little foolish.
“Nothing wrong with having dreams.”
“Yeah, I know. But I do get discouraged sometimes—”
He kissed the back of her neck. “Baby, I’ma be your motivation,” he said, singing the lyrics to Kelly Rowland’s song.
Solay and Deon both laughed. It was nice to talk to someone who was supportive. Her family all seemed to be waiting to say, “I told you so.” Solay had the impression that her family would be relieved if she failed and went back to a nine-to-five like a normal person. They were all appalled when she quit her job and used all her savings to open a bakery. Solay had yet to admit to her family or friends that it was an enormous struggle to meet all her expenses. After paying the astronomical amount of money on rent every month, and after paying her staff, she barely broke even. She’d been faking it, pretending to be financially solvent. She really needed to figure out a way to make a bigger profit.
“You’re real special, Solay,” Deon said, breaking into her somber thoughts. His massaging fingers changed to a caress. The soft tone of his voice and his gentle touch began to put her troubled mind as ease.
His hands traveled to her breasts, squeezing them and stroking the sensitive tips.
“That feels so good,” she murmured. “Too good. What are we doing, Deon?”
“Getting closer. As close as we can get.”
Solay closed her eyes, enjoying the sensations that included Deon’s touch and the sweet fragrance that drifted from the bakery.
“There goes that smell again. Now I’m feenin’ for something sweet.”
“Aw, do you want me to go downstairs and bring you a couple of cupcakes?”
“Nah, I don’t need that artificial sweetness,” he said, repositioning her body until she was flat on her back. “You got all the sugar I need.” Deon pushed her thighs apart and buried his face between them.
The office at Scandalicious was actually a closet with a small desk, a phone and a computer. Solay rarely worked in the cramped quarters for several reasons. First, the level of noise coming from the kitchen and the dining area prevented her from concentrating. With Melanee banging around in the kitchen, Vidal yelling out orders at the front of the bakery, and the buzzing sound of cu
stomers’ conversations created an outrageous cacophony. Secondly, closing the door of the claustrophobic little space was out of the question, and so Solay usually worked on the books upstairs in her apartment.
But when Vidal called out that someone from the City of Philadelphia was on the phone, Solay took the call in the tiny office. “Hello?” She hadn’t violated any codes and wasn’t in the mood for any bullshit.
“Hi, is this the owner of Scandalicious?”
Aw, shit. “Yes, this is Solay Dandridge. What can I do for you?”
“My name is Anita Blalock. I’m calling from the Mural Department, City of Philadelphia. We’re co-hosting a charity event along with several major corporations to support mural art in Philadelphia.”
“Okaaay,” Solay said, mad that Vidal had called her to the phone for this. “I guess I can make a small donation, ma’am.”
“No, I don’t think you understand. I’m not calling for a donation. We’ve decided to jazz up our charity event with cupcakes instead of traditional cake. Lots and lots of cupcakes.”
Solay stuck her foot out and closed the door. She needed privacy and was willing to endure a few minutes of claustrophobic misery. “How many?” The biggest order she’d filled had been for a hundred cupcakes, but she was definitely up for a bigger challenge.
“The students at the art school will make a huge cupcake display. Maybe two, if that what’s necessary to showcase two thousand cupcakes.”
Two thousand cupcakes! Solay gulped. Both scared and excited, her pulse quickened.
“Our event is next month, so I’d like to get the ball rolling as soon as possible.”
“Oh, absolutely,” Solay said eagerly as she wiped beads of sweat from her brow.
“I’d like you to come to your shop for a cupcake tasting and to work out the financial arrangements. What’s a convenient time?”
Solay wanted to say tomorrow, but she had a big order to fill. “How about three o’clock Wednesday?”
“That works for me.”
“Fantastic. I look forward to meeting you, Ms. Blalock.” Solay hung up, yanked the office door open and screamed, “Oh, my God!”
“What’s going on?” a customer inquired.
“Nothing major,” Vidal replied. “That’s how she gets when she tries out a new sex toy,” he said, deadpan.
A chorus of chuckles erupted as Vidal did his thing, entertaining the customers at Scandalicious.
Solay was so happy—so shocked and amazed at her good fortune that she had another outburst. “Oh, my fucking God!”
On cue, Vidal remarked, “Well, folks, I guess that rabbit gadget or whatever it is, really works. Ya girl’s in the office experiencing multiple O’s.”
The crowd roared with laughter. “No, but seriously, folks. On some real ish, she just ate our newest addition to the menu…a new cupcake. It’s called Multi-orgasmic.”
“Is it for sale?” a woman asked.
“Not yet,” Vidal, the consummate salesman, told the customers. Solay couldn’t help from loving Vidal with his nosey-ass self. He always had her back. Vidal was her boy…flaws and all.
Still in awe, Solay remained in the little office, smiling as she tallied up figures on a calculator. From her tentative estimation, this job alone could get her out of the red. If she could rely on large, specialty orders at least once a month, she would finally start turning a profit.
Solay noticed that her outburst didn’t prompt Melanee to come and check on her. The chick had always been a little weird, but she seemed to have gotten worse. She hardly ever conversed with Solay or even her buddy, Vidal. She kept to herself nowadays. Stayed busy with baking and she was always out of her apron and headed home by six o’clock sharp. Solay wondered it Melanee was rushing off to a second job.
Scandalicious had been swamped with customers for hours, but as soon as the crowd dwindled, Vidal sauntered away from the counter. He stood in the doorway of the office, giving Solay an amused expression. “Well?”
“Well, what?”
“Don’t play dumb. Why were you in here screaming like your spot was getting drilled?”
“I landed an order for two thousand cupcakes—well, I think I did. The woman is coming here Wednesday for a taste test.”
Vidal screwed his lips up. “What time. I hope she doesn’t pop up during the lunchtime rush.”
“No, she’ll be here at three; is that all right with you?”
He shrugged. “Three is cool.” He paused, but Solay could tell he had a lot more to say. “So what’s my cut?”
“Huh?”
“What’s my percentage of that big order? I took the call, after all. And you owe me for keeping the natives pacified and entertained while you were in here publicly masturbating.”
Solay burst out laughing. “I was not masturbating and you know it. Those were screams of joy. I really couldn’t contain myself.”
“That’s not the way it sounded to my ears. I heard sex sounds. I thought that hot thug of yours had slipped inside the office and was in here putting it on you. Seriously, you never close the office door. That was real suspect.”
She shook her head. “It’s a shame the way your mind stays in the gutter.”
“You can blame that on this environment. Scandalicious is corrupting me. I was a decent and morally sound young man before I started working in this cat house—oops, I mean bakery. It’s hard to make the distinction when you look at the décor. Didn’t you design this place to provoke thoughts of wild and decadent sex?”
Vidal had her falling out laughing. He was on a roll that you couldn’t stop once he got started. “The theme is romance and sensuality.”
“Mmm-hmm. Could have fooled me. This is some Moulin Rouge shit up in here; we should have ‘Lady Marmalade’ piping from the speakers.” Vidal’s eyes brightened. “Hey, that’s a great idea. What do you think?”
“No,” she said emphatically. “It gets noisy enough in here.”
“So how’s ya boy holding?” Vidal suddenly changed the subject.
“Huh?”
“How much pipe is your thug boo working with?”
Mouth agape, Solay stared at Vidal. She regained her composure and closed her mouth. “You’re crossing the line when you ask questions about my sex life. Stay in your lane, Vidal.”
He smiled sheepishly. Solay could never kick it with Vidal for more than two minutes without him overstepping his boundaries.
“Okay, I can respect what you just said, but I have to make one last comment.”
Solay groaned.
“You’ve been awfully cheerful these past few weeks, and I’m really curious…is it thug loving that has you humming and smiling every day?”
Laughing, Solay threw a pack of Post-Its at Vidal.
“Ow!” Vidal rubbed his shoulder dramatically. “Okay, keep it up. I could use some time off with work-related injuries. I heard that Workman’s Comp pays more than my paltry salary.”
The doorbell announced another customer. “Oh, damn. Here comes another pest.”
Solay sighed. “Here comes another customer, Vidal. We have highly valued customers; not pests,” she said sternly.
“Umph. You stand out there and deal with those heathens for a few hours and then tell me what they are.”
She couldn’t help from snickering. When he wasn’t being completely obnoxious, Vidal could be hilarious.
“Melaneeeee!” Vidal shouted as he sashayed out of Solay’s office “We’re running low on red velvet, girl. Let’s get it poppin’!”
CHAPTER 20
Snug inside her walls, he was still for a few moments. Chevonne was so tight, so wet and warm, Lincoln was astounded by the unbearable intense pleasure. With a deep breath, he lifted up and then thrust deeply, plunging into her hot depths. A familiar tremor reminded Lincoln that he wouldn’t last much longer. But he wanted to. Chevonne wasn’t ready. He knew her body, recognized the sounds she uttered. And she wasn’t there. Not yet. He pulled out of the satin clut
ch of her body. He had to; otherwise, he would have climaxed.
“Lincoln!” She reached for him, grasping at his arm.
He looked at his dick, observed the thick sheen of her juices. He scooted downward, splitting her thighs with his chin. While not as deeply effective as his rock-hard dick, Lincoln’s tongue would not betray him with an outburst of white hot lust. She trembled as his breath whispered through the dark patch of hair that covered her mound. Her body jerked when he kissed her pussy lips.
“Oh.” The single word was breathy admission that she desired oral pleasure. Chevonne stretched her thighs farther apart, rolling her hips to meet his open mouth. He felt her hands on the sides of his head, pulling his face toward her glistening, hungry pussy.
He kissed her shiny pink folds again, paying homage to the pussy that he loved, giving it a French kiss as he separated the glistening, distended flesh with his tongue. Moaning in pleasure, Lincoln licked and sucked greedily, forcing from his mind the knowledge that another man’s dick had enjoyed his wife’s sticky pleasure.
“I love this sweet pussy, baby.”
“It’s all yours, Lincoln. I’ll never give it away again.” Chevonne’s voice was high-pitched and quivering.
The topic of her infidelity was off limits during normal conversations. Lincoln and Chevonne pretended that it never happened. And in his normal state of mind, the thought of that mechanic touching his wife, was more than his mind and heart could stand.
But somehow, through some freaky agreement, that taboo subject was spoken openly, arousing them both to unimaginable heights whenever they fucked. Although Lincoln had initially agreed to counseling, he bristled at the idea of sharing his marital troubles with a stranger. We can work this out ourselves, he’d told Chevonne, in an unyielding tone of voice.
“I know you’re not gonna give my pussy away again.” He grasped her buttocks and brought her pussy directly to his lips. Determined that his wife would never stray again, Lincoln ran his tongue teasingly down the open crack of her vagina and then delivered one warm lick after another, lapping her sweet and sour nectar. Chevonne whimpered as she grinded against the mouth that threatened to devour her.
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