by Carl Weber
Don’t get me wrong. I knew I looked damn good for my age, but Father Time was pulling on me. They say black don’t crack, and so far, I hadn’t had any work done—other than my boobs—but I don’t know. Being with this young man was making me consider Hollywood’s dirty little secret: plastic surgery.
I looked over at Jasper in all of his manhood. I then looked at the clock. Then at Jasper’s dick calling my name. He was just so beautiful. It was just so beautiful, standing there in all of its glory. I loved sex, and granted, I could get sex from Victor easily after turning in from our function tonight. Despite my romping around with Jasper, Victor wasn’t a bad lay. It’s just that he was old school, still into shit like doing a sixty-nine. Jasper, on the other hand, was a new jack with tricks that would make the performers in Cirque du Soleil look like a beginners ballet class.
“Fuck it,” I said, tossing the towel. A dick in the mouth was worth two in the bush. I climbed on the bed and immediately began slobbing down Jasper. I got it shiny and slippery before I slid onto it. Time was of the essence, so we didn’t have time for any sensual foreplay acts. I bounced on it like I was in a potato sack race. He clutched my lifted D cups like he was a jockey whose horse had gone rabid and he was holding on for dear life.
“Damn, baby. Oh, shit,” he moaned as his face twisted up.
Beautiful man. That’s what I loved even more about my Jasper. When it came to getting it in, he didn’t care about getting ugly. His deformed face let me know that he was on the verge of exploding inside of me. Knowing I had about twenty seconds max to get mine in, I leaned slightly forward so that my clit would rub against his penis with every bounce. This intensified the wonderful feeling I was already indulging in.
Five, four, three, two . . .
“Oh, damn! Oh, shit! Fuck!” We each called out our own expletives as we reached our climax and I fell onto his chest.
“Damn you,” I scolded him after looking at the clock. “I gotta get out of here. For real this time.” I got out of the bed and began wiping myself down with the towel.
Jasper grabbed the remote, and with a look of victory on his face, he turned on the television and began flipping through channels.
Bastard, I thought about his confidence, or maybe it was arrogance. Either way, he knew he’d have me one more time before I walked out of there . . . just like all the other times. I bit my bottom lip as I rubbed the towel between my legs. Looking at Jasper, I wondered how long it would be before he wanted to leave me for someone younger. After all, besides the sex, I honestly didn’t know what was in it for him. He could fuck any- and everybody, and I was sure he did, with the exception of our Thursday standing appointment. Sure I footed the bill for the deluxe hotel suite we had our little rendezvous in, but that was only once a week. Perhaps the same way Jasper made me feel younger and alive while we were having sex, I made him feel like a man: older, mature. With all the mommy issues young men had nowadays, no telling. All I did know, though, was that Jasper was simply gorgeous and could lay it down in the bedroom. The sex was amazing, and I looked forward to our weekly sessions. Never mind why we were using each other, as long as we were both happy. And I damn sure knew I was one of the happiest women in the world.
I guess some would say that I was a cougar. Now that word made a sista feel old. Every week as I did the walk of shame down the hotel hallway, I kept telling myself I was going to leave this boy toy alone, but besides mind-blowing sex, he made me feel wanted and needed. My age actually had its advantage. With age comes experience. Sure, Jasper knew some new tricks, but I was experienced enough to know what to do with it, so perhaps in retrospect, that’s what Jasper admired about me and why he chose to connect with me out of all the other women that night.
See, I met Jasper six months ago at a charity fashion show event in Beverly Hills. He was one of the male models. I swear to God when he hit the end of that runway and winked before making his trek behind the curtain backstage, he was winking dead at me. His boldness alone made me get sticky between the legs. After all, Victor had been sitting right there with his arm around me.
I was afraid he’d felt me jerk at the tingle Jasper had sent running through my body. I feared we were about to reenact that scene from Robert Townson’s movie The Five Heartbeats, when Leon and the lead singer were competing with one another by singing to a woman in the audience who was sitting there with her husband’s arm around her. By the time they finished serenading her, she was sunk down in her seat and her man slowly removed his arm from around her, got up, and left her there to find her own ride home.
Ha! That was almost me, except Victor hadn’t noticed, even though ironically he did end up leaving me to fend for myself that night. It was okay. I had Jasper there to take care of me.
Victor had to open up the restaurants early that next morning due to inspections. He’d hinted around for about a half hour that he was ready to go before I suggested he take the car on home and I’d use the driving service to cop a ride. No sooner than I was blowing Victor a kiss good-bye as he exited the building did I find myself back in the dressing room with Jasper getting my pussy ate out. Now see, that’s how these young boys get down. They come out the gate letting a chick know that it’s all about her, all about pleasing her and making her feel good. Of course, it can all be compared to the crack dealer who gives the crackhead his first hit for free. He knows that crackhead will be back over and over again on the chase for that very first high. And boy oh boy, was I high.
He did the craziest things with his tongue. Had me leaned up against the wall with my leg hiked over his shoulder like we were on Dancing with the Stars. Even though I wasn’t at my peak, juices were just a-flowing. I was sloppy wet, and not just with his saliva.
Once he made me cum, though, I felt so indebted. I pushed Jasper onto the couch in the dressing room and I crawled onto him like a thief in the night. My Donna Karan pencil skirt was still hiked in the air, and I stepped out of the panties that had previously been resting at my ankles. I bent over and took him into my mouth: all the thickness and all the length. I needed him to know that I could hang with the best of them.
The warmth of my mouth sliding up and down his vessel made him harden in my mouth. With my ass tooted in the air, I began squeezing my breasts together, my nipples massaging his balls.
“Mmmm. Baby, that feels so good,” he moaned.
I was working my tongue as if it was a brush and his manhood was my canvas. As I cupped my hand around him and concentrated on the head of his penis, he took in deep breaths like he was hyperventilating.
With all the dramatics, I wanted to be part of the act. I needed to feel him inside of me. I always get what I want, so without further delay, I turned away from him and dropped it on him backward.
“Grab my ass,” I ordered him. “Good boy,” I said after he followed my directions.
Not only did I like the touch of his hands cupping my ass, but I needed him to balance me as I rode him backward. I felt myself losing my breath with every stroke. When his fingers slid around my thigh and he began to play with my clit, I completely lost it.
“I’m about to cum. Baby, don’t stop! I’m about to cum.” I barely whispered it as I felt my body tense up. “You watching?” I asked over my shoulder.
“Fuck, yeah,” he moaned. “Your cunt is so pretty,” he said.
“It’s a pussy, dear,” I told him. “White girls have cunts. Black women have pussies.” So he showed his age. I could get around that. I didn’t mind being the teacher sometimes.
“Well, I’m about to fuck the shit out of this pussy,” he said with each hard pump.
Young fella took offense at being corrected, so he was taking it out on my kitty. I loved it. The sound of my wetness and my ass smacking against his stomach shot fireworks through each of us. I could feel him releasing inside of me as I sat straight up on his vessel, allowing my juices to flow down him. He held me tight against him, his hands across my stomach, until he was empty and I was
full. After that, there was nothing but the sound of our hearts beating and each of us trying to catch our breath.
I fell to the side of the couch and waited for the numbness in my legs to go away. Young buck had ol’ girl putting in work. I had something to prove though: that an old G like me could hang with a boy who was still wet behind the ears.
“You can go in there to clean up.” He pointed to a room that I assumed was the bathroom.
Oh, goodness. The dreaded ho bath. I had no choice though. Sometimes Victor could be spontaneous, taking me right when I entered the bedroom door. I couldn’t take that chance, so off to the bathroom I went.
After cleaning up, I came back into the dressing room area where Jasper was doing what young guys did: checking his Facebook status and liking pictures on Instagram.
“What was your name again?” I asked as I picked up my panties and slipped them on.
“Jasper,” he reminded me, looking a little hurt that his name had slipped my mind.
I really didn’t need to be reminded. Hell, he’d engraved his name on my pussy with his tongue. I just wanted him to think that he was both replaceable and disposal. That’s how a real boss chick keeps the fellas in line. Even an old girl originally from New Orleans knows that.
“Well, Jasper, it was truly a pleasure meeting you.” I pulled my skirt down while looking around the room to make sure I’d gathered all my things. Then I clicked my heels right on over to the door.
“Hey, wait a minute,” Jasper called out. “Aren’t you even going to tell me your name? What if I want some more of that?” he asked, licking his lips.
With my hand on the doorknob, I turned back to face him. “If you want more of this, then you’ll figure out how to get it.” I winked then made my exit. I wasn’t the least bit worried about Jasper figuring out how to reach me. I’d left my cell number written in lipstick on the bathroom mirror.
Since then, Jasper and I had had more trysts than I could count, but if I did say so myself, this last one here at the LAX Airport Hilton had been one of the best.
While I waited outside the hotel for the valet to bring my Mercedes, I pulled out my phone and called my husband again. I knew he probably hadn’t immediately gotten up from having dinner with that daughter of his after I’d called him the first time to remind him of tonight’s fundraiser at UCLA. I was on the scholarship board, and I planned to make sure Brielle got into the school next year when she completed her senior year, so missing this affair was not an option, for me at least. Victor, on the other hand, wouldn’t surprise me if he somehow managed to miss it just so he could be with Jamela.
He loved being with her. I did everything I could to keep him from spending too much time with her, though. I couldn’t risk her getting into his ear. The financial security of me and my children depended on it. Usually I could manage to come up with a reason why he couldn’t have dinner with her but instead had to cater to me, but this time there was a conflict of interest. His dinner with her would allow me time with Jasper, so I sacrificed. Still didn’t keep me from calling to throw a monkey wrench into their evening.
When Victor had first told me that he was having a celebratory dinner with that brat-ass Jamela, I almost blew a gasket. He’d only told me the morning of. Again, though, I wasn’t about to change my plans with Jasper, so I let him go. I knew that while they were dipping crab or lobster into hot butter, Jasper would be dipping himself into me, but I still hated the fact that he was with her. God only knows what venom she would try to spit about me. As far as I was concerned, he might as well have been out with another woman.
Although the two always spoke of how they never spent much time together, I knew it was a lie. The girl worked at one of his restaurants for Christ’s sake. Made me wonder if they were trying to throw me off or something, keep me from being suspicious.
For years I felt as if Jamela had Victor under some kind of spell. I feared that whatever she might say to him, he would take a biscuit and sop it up. I was almost certain the man would drink my bathwater if I bottled it up and kept it in the fridge, but the two of them seemed to have a bond that not even the power of my pussy could break. I just wished I’d known that from day one.
I met Victor at the hospital where, at the time, I was taking care of his sick wife. I wasn’t particularly attracted to or interested in him when we first met. I’d come in and tend to his wife, exchanging only cordial pleasantries with him, but then everything changed when I learned that he was Victor Long, owner of the most popular and infamous soul food restaurant in town. Then there was the fact that he was about to be a widower. From that point on, I looked at him as if he’d been heaven sent. God knew the life I should have been living, and it wasn’t one taking care of sick people for the rest of my life.
I’d escaped a miserable, abusive relationship back in New Orleans. As luck would have it, Brielle and Brendon’s father came to town on business. I was working at one of the hotels back then. I’d seen many a businessman from across the map come and go, but it had never crossed my mind to hook up with any of them. Cheating on my high school sweetheart, who wasn’t so sweet, could have been the death of me, but there was something about the children’s father that made me feel safe and secure.
When I’d go to his room to do turndown service, he treated me like a person, not a maid who wasn’t good enough to shine his shoes. He talked to me. Asked me about my life and aspirations. He was the first person I told about wanting to go to college and get into the medical field. He encouraged me to quit dreaming and just do it. Of course it was impossible on the salary of a hotel housekeeper.
He always left me nice tips on the nightstand for cleaning his room, some equaling more than the cost of a one-night stay at the hotel. At first I tried to give it back, thinking he’d mistakenly pulled out a higher amount of bills than he meant to. He insisted I keep it, stating that I should consider it an investment in my college tuition. Right then and there I felt as though he believed in me. I was even more convinced when, after his two-week stay, he asked me to pick up and move back to New York with him, promising to marry and take care of me. Without a thing to lose, I slipped away from my old man and caught a red-eye to New York.
They say that if you can make it in New York you can make it anywhere. That might have been true, but two kids later and baby mamas popping up all over the map from everywhere the children’s father had vacationed on business, I was done. A baby mama equaled child support. Bitches were cutting into me and my children’s riches. The fairy tale life I dreamed of was never going to come to pass with that man.
I figured he was singing the same song and dancing the same two-step with every other housekeeper he could manipulate. I was pretty sure I was the first, but after making it so easy for him, clearly I wasn’t the last. I put up with three baby mamas popping out of the woodwork, but when baby mama number four died during childbirth and the little bastard had to come live with us, that was the straw that broke the camel’s back.
I took his ass to court and got what I could before it was all gone, but no way was I going back to New Orleans where everyone would call me a stupid failure. So, I went to the next best place where I thought my fairy tale could come true: California. With my settlement from the divorce as well as grants and loans, I worked hard as hell to put myself through college. All had not been in vain with my relationship with my children’s father. Upon graduating, I landed the job that would also land me in the lap of Victor, AKA the lap of luxury.
I wasn’t thrilled about his “baggage,” as I called Jamela, but if I wanted to change my life for the better, I had to take the good with the bad. At first the little tyke didn’t seem like she’d be that bad, but once her mother passed, it was obvious that Victor felt the only piece of her left was with Jamela. Victor had been in love with his wife, so I didn’t waste my time trying to compete with that. What drove me crazy was that it seemed like Jamela used her mother’s death as a way to wrap her father around her finger.
Then there was that stupid daddy-daughter day tradition they had. It wasn’t so easy to put a crashing halt to that at first, but I managed. I called myself being Victor’s unofficial assistant. I kept his calendar, started staying on top of his bills and things like that for him. He’d trusted me with the care and life of his former wife, so he had no problem trusting me with things involving his own life. Whenever he wanted me to schedule his time with Jamela, I’d tell him he was already booked.
With losing his wife and Jamela losing her mother, I knew they needed each other more than ever, but I’d already started showing Jamela my true colors. I just couldn’t hide my disdain toward the little brat. I figured that it was only a matter of time before she’d start flapping off at the gums during one of their infamous daddy-daughter dates. I had to keep them apart, at least until he was into me way too deep.
I didn’t know what their talks were like, but I just felt like every time he came home from having spent time with her, he was in a different state of mind. He was back to being focused on her and her achievements, talking about how proud he was of her. Everything would be Jamela, Jamela, Jamela. One time, it took me a week to clean up the residue of her from his mind. It was work.
The fact that he’d spent most of today with her had me slightly on edge. God knows what nonsense she’d put in his head this time. I was willing to bet she tried to talk him into buying her a new car. As far as I was concerned, that 1999 Ford she had was good enough. Besides, I already had my counter all worked out. I’d just tell him that she’d be in college soon and typically freshmen couldn’t have cars when staying on campus, so it would be a big, fat waste. Besides, this summer I wanted Victor and me to vacation in Maui. Surely another car note would dip into my spending money. Buying one outright would probably put the trip on hold altogether.