The Venture Capitalist

by EnRose, LaVie

  “Of course.”

  As Tracey is delivering rack cards containing today’s program line-up and studio contact information to be distributed to the guests, I stop her.

  “Would you bring a glass of water and a box of tissues out here stat?”

  “Sure thing, Mr. White.” Tracey returns to the office area while I approach Keisha and her mother in a corner near the front of the showroom. As I near them, I hear Keisha say.

  “Mama, I have someone I’d like you to meet.”

  The elder Ms. Beale’s nervous laugh becomes a sob. I don’t advance on them yet. I wait as Tracey returns with a Dixie cup of water and the tissues I requested.

  “Thanks,” I say, and turn back to Keisha who is consoling her mother with a hug.

  “Oh, Mama,” she says. “You’re going to mess up that pretty makeup Jada applied for you this morning.”

  I hand Keisha the cup of water and a tissue. “Here, Mama. Drink some water. It’ll clear your throat.”

  Mrs. Beale takes the cup and drinks a long sip. Then breathes deeply and clutches the tissue Keisha has pressed into her hand. After a few more deep breaths, she dabs her face with the tissue and turns to face me.

  “So, you’re the young man who helped make all this possible?” Mrs. Beale says, struggling to keep her composure.

  “Yes,” I say, extending a hand. “Tristan White, and you’re the inimitable Mrs. Beale.”

  She pulls herself together and grips my hand in both of hers. “Pleased to meet you, Tristan. Clara Lee, and I’ll take the compliment behind that fifty-dollar word.”

  Laughing, I cut a quizzical glance at Keisha. “Now I know where your daughter gets her wry sense of humor—and her beauty.”

  Now fully recovered from her crying jag, she says, “You put our grade school pictures side by side and the only difference is her lighter complexion and hair like her daddy’s.”

  “A winning combination, indeed,” I say and looking from Keisha to her mother, admiring what great stock she comes from. There is a concentrated heat in my gaze for the younger Ms. Beale, who is blushing, yet trying not to show it.

  “Thanks for making these girls’ dream come true, Tristan. The neighborhood needs a business like this.”

  “It’s been a pleasure working with Keisha and Jada on one of the most unique projects I’ve worked on in quite some time. The concept will revolutionize the music industry if this catches on the way we believe it will.”

  “If only something like this had been available during my singing career,” Clara Lee says.

  “That’s right, Keisha told me you were a blues artist.”

  Keisha steps away as we’re talking to speak to Jada and Nathan about some last minute event details.

  “Yes, my late husband and I toured together when we were childless, then mostly in the summers when the children came along. We had a small following in the states, but our biggest fans were in Brazil. Then we got tired of dragging our kids all over creation, so he opened this place.”

  “Keisha told me her father left her this place upon his death. Sorry for your loss.”

  “Thank you.” Clara looks around. “That stubborn son-of-a-gun would be so proud of this place if he were alive now.”

  “And rightfully so. Keisha and Jada’s vision has been fully realized in Kente Studio Records.”

  “She told me they are going to be selling music online and everything. This was just a record store back then. All Javier sold was records.” She says this with a bitterness that bleeds through her words, but I don’t question her about it. Gentleman that I am, I change the subject.

  “Here,” I offer her my arm. “Let me help you to the seat Keisha reserved for you in front of the stage.”

  “Why, thank you, Tristan,” she says, and allows me to escort her away as Keisha follows us with her eyes.

  I seat Mrs. Beale and rejoin Keisha as she finishes up her conversation with Nathan and Jada.

  “Less than five minutes before the doors open,” Jada says. “All the acts performing this afternoon are in studio one warming up. Our celebrity guests are in studio two, which we’ve commandeered as a greenroom. Tracey’s made sure they’ve been served refreshments. The crew knows what they’re supposed to do. So, are we ready to let the crowd in?”

  We all glance out the window at the crowd snaking around the building while my security team deftly handles crowd control. “Yeah, but I don’t think they’re all going to fit,” Keisha says with a frown.

  “We thought about that,” Nathan says. “Jada and I rented a couple of Jumbotron screens and wired some of your speakers outside. With one in front of the building and one in the parking lot, the overflow should get to hear and see what’s going on inside.”

  “You sure you weren’t an event coordinator in a previous career?” Keisha says.

  Nathan grins. “The USABA has taught me a thing or two about big events.”

  “Thanks,” Keisha says and squeezes his hand appreciatively. Her gaze sweeps from Nathan to Jada, and finally to me. “Then, let’s get this show on the road.”

  The media is out in full force likely due to the veritable who’s who among Chicago celebrities at this well-attended opening. We let them enter first and get set up to live-stream as much of the show as they like. When the crowd is let in and seated, Keisha and Jada welcome them together, amid screams and catcalls from cacophonous males. Nathan and I know the drill, so we’re not overly concerned. We know exactly who these ladies will be going home with later.

  “Welcome!” Keisha says, raising her arms like a Deejay inciting the crowd to raise their cheering levels to a decibel that is ear-splitting.

  “Chicago!” Jada screams, mimicking Keisha.

  “I’m Keisha Beale, owner and Chief Operating Officer of Kente Studio Records, and this is my partner…”

  “Jada Jameson, owner and Chief Financial Officer of Kente Studio Records.”

  Keisha continues. “Today we open a business on the south side of Chicago which we hope will rival Motown in Detroit, but we are sure will eventually be the go-to place for music for cities all over the world.”

  “Our website is LIVE as we speak,” Jada says. “So, please, if you’re at home and couldn’t be here with us, check us out at www.KSRmusic.com.”

  Keisha takes the baton again. “Now, before we bring you the live stellar entertainment we have lined up for you, we’d be remiss for not giving you a word from our sponsors. First, please give it up for Mr. Tristan White!”

  I ascend the steps of the makeshift stage and do my portion of the sponsor’s spiel accompanied by a chorus of screaming women. The noise doesn’t seem to be abating, so I wave my hands in a “quiet down,” motion and finally I’m able to speak over the less exuberant cheering with the mic.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming out today to this Grandest of Openings for Kente Studio Records. When the opportunity to help fund this project fell into my lap,” I give Keisha a heated gaze, remembering how she literally fell into my arms that day, “I was impressed by the business plan the owners created and demonstrated to me as a business model that could succeed. Once I was on board, my brother Nathan was similarly impressed with this project and he quickly bought in. With him on board, we hit the ground running and this event is the culmination of a vision that Ms. Beale and Ms. Jameson have had since they left the hallowed halls of DePaul University. Today, you are a part of history. Kente Studio Records will be the name synonymous with good music for many years to come!”

  As I leave the stage, several news anchors vie for my attention, so we move to the area stage left where they are all set up. I willingly provide them with sound bites as the crowd goes wild when Nathan takes the stage. Nathan is such a hit, Keisha and Jada decide to use him in between acts as their master of ceremonies. What can I say? They chose the right brother.

  When the media has what they need, I wend my way back to the other side of the showroom not far from where Keisha, her mother
and Jada are seated. Chairs are at a premium now, and the room is filled to capacity. Were there not additional floor space in the back of the building which could handle over-flow were the Fire Marshal to show up, I’d wonder if we were actually breaking any fire codes.

  Nathan takes the clip-board Keisha was brandishing earlier and introduces the first act. Each unknown act that performs from the ones Keisha and her team selected is followed by a well-known group or artist—from Princess Danai to many others from the industry. The musical entertainment is so good it rivals an award show.

  Keisha is the final act to go on, and I can see she’s nervous as she was when she introduced me to her mother earlier. I’m not sure why this is the first time I’ve heard her play or sing, considering this business my brother and I have funded for them.

  I suppose I’ve been too busy securing her as my submissive to even vett her talent. She could be horrible for all I know, but somehow I know this is highly unlikely given who her parents are.

  She takes a stool center stage with an acoustic guitar, and begins to sing a ballad about dreams coming true. It is a virtuoso performance, despite her emotions getting the better of her toward the end, when she sees her mother and Ms. Jameson with tears streaming down their faces. Her eyes find mine next, when she sings the refrain, “and I don’t ever want to wake up.” She repeats it to the end until her voice cracks from her own tears.

  If I remain in this room, I’m going to run up on that goddamn stage and kiss the shit out of her—thereby telling Chicago and the whole world this woman is mine. Instead, I turn tail and run. Making my way through the crowd as Keisha receives a well-deserved standing ovation, I enter the reception area leading to the offices.

  I flag down a KSR employee wearing one of the festive Kente cloth shirts near Keisha’s office, and ask her to deliver a message for me. I read her nametag.

  “Sandra. If you would, please tell Ms. Beale I need to see her in the office immediately.”

  “Yes, Mr. White,” she says, and continues toward the showroom.

  I take residence in Keisha’s office and wait. Things should be winding down out there. Nathan and Jada should be inviting the crowd to the grand opening after-party at the Elysian Hotel, while my security detail handles crowd egress.

  I’m not kept waiting long when Keisha enters the office, and I lance her with my eyes, so she knows exactly what her singing has done to me. She locks the door. Excellent move, because I am not going to be able to refrain from taking her here in her office.

  I walk slowly toward her standing against the door with a deer-in-headlights expression on her face.

  She finally speaks over her nerves. “So, what do you think so far?”

  I don’t answer because I think she would be better served by me showing her what I think. I sweep her into my arms and stun her with a passionate kiss, thrusting my tongue deep into her mouth as she gasps. She arches her back and yields as I grind her against my already erect cock.

  “Hearing you sing is a fucking aphrodisiac,” I finally murmur against her lips. “I couldn’t wait for you to get back here.” I begin to take off her clothes.

  “Tristan!” she scolds. “We have a room full of people out there. And my mother.”

  I hesitate, then rearrange her clothing. My face is that same mask of vulnerability I showed her the first time we hooked up in my Grotto. I can see her expression going through the emotional debate, and finally coming to a decision.

  Keisha drops to her knees, and I don’t pause for any thought. I unzip my pants, and offer what she willingly takes into her gorgeous mouth. She draws so deeply, I will myself not to whimper like a sub. I manage to hold it together, my eyes rolling back, and groaning her name, “Keisha…”

  She peeks up and me, and gets down to business like the pro she’s become at fellating me in just a few short weeks. I have tutored her in what I like in oral skills and she’s been an apt pupil, so much so that, sixty-nine has become her position of choice. Her previous lover had neglected going down on her. Now, she seems to love giving and getting head more than fucking.

  Even in this position, I have moves to make this more pleasurable for her, and Keisha knows my body almost as well as her own, now. I’m getting ready to come, so I retrieve the pack of travel tissues I carry now in deference to her hard limit of not swallowing.

  Yet, this time when I pull a tissue out in preparation, she doesn’t let go.

  “Keisha?” I can only grab her shoulders and hold on when she sucks deep one final time. “Oh, Keisha… fuck!” With a shudder that wracks my whole six-foot-four frame, I spill my seed into the back of her throat.

  She’s barely finished before I haul her up against me and kiss her so hard I can taste remnants of myself on her tongue. She tucks me back inside my pants and tugs the zipper up while I’m still probing her mouth.

  Finally, we emerge for air, and I gaze at her with awe. “Now, that was a great grand opening present,” I say. Still holding her in my arms, I deposit her feet on top of mine and walk us stiffly over to her desk. “Let me give you one.”

  She pushes against my chest. “No way. I make too much damn noise.”

  Not one to be deterred, I have another thought. “We’ve got a few hours before the party tonight. Come to my place and we’ll continue this later. I’m right around the corner from the Elysian.”

  She laughs. “Okay, but first I have something for you.”

  “What?”

  She goes to her desk and pulls out a long, narrow professionally gift-wrapped box.

  “What is it?” I say.

  She thrusts it into my hands. “Open it.”

  I tear it open with an excitement I haven’t displayed since the last Christmas I had with my mother.

  Dropping the box, I examine the colorful silk, Kente cloth necktie inside. I am a very pleased Dominant. “You bought this for me?”

  “Yeah. I thought you might wear it to the party tonight. It’s a subtle hint of your connection to our business venture.”

  I haul her up against me again, and kiss her. Hard.

  “Thank you, Keisha. I’ll wear this with immense pride.”

  Then I reach inside my jacket and remove a smaller, narrower box than hers.

  She immediately begins to protest. “Tristan, your personal shopper has already loaded me up with clothes and accessories I don’t even know what to do with.”

  “But this is from me. It’s both a congratulatory gift for a successful grand opening, and it also signifies that you’re my submissive until you earn a formal collaring ceremony.”

  She smiles and takes the trademark Harry Winston box from my hands. Inside is a diamond solitaire on a white gold chain. She kisses me in appreciation. “Thank you so much. I’ll wear this with immense pride tonight and always.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Later in the Grotto, Keisha is kneeling on the floor with her palms resting on her knees dressed in a red, satin bustier, the collar I presented her with earlier, and a thong.

  I immediately adopt my Dominant demeanor when I see her. This woman belongs to me when we’re in this room and that makes me feel a power more potent even than running the multi-billion dollar empire I manage daily.

  I go to the highboy and retrieve a ball hood and two lengths of soft, white rope and carry them to the bed. Then I return to stand in front of Keisha, who has kept her head down like the good little submissive she is.

  Almost certainly, her emotions are heightened by an arousal borne of anticipation. Were I to inset my fingers in her right now, I’m sure I’d come away with an excess of eau de Keisha. What to do to her first?

  “You’re beautiful,” I say, as I bend down and nudge her chin with my forefinger, giving her permission to meet my eyes.

  “Who do you belong to, Keisha?”

  “You, Master.” She has become more comfortable saying that word, given her ethnic background. I know how hard it was for a woman so proud of her heritage to resort to saying
something that reminds her of Jim Crow and all the horrors experienced by her ancestors in this country. It is humbling for me to have the blind faith she exhibits in me.

  “Stand up,” I command and she does, careful to keep her eyes trained downward.

  “You may look at me,” I say, and she gazes up into my eyes. She swallows convulsively when she sees the seriousness there.

  “What are your safewords?” I ask in an authoritative tone.

  I know she isn’t an imbecile, but she could get caught up in the throes of a scene and forget her own name, despite having chosen her own safewords. When she doesn’t answer me immediately I glare at her, and then glance over the at the punishment deck on the nightstand.

  “Jungle and fever,” she says in the face of my subtle threat.

  She knows she’ll have to endure whatever the card demands if she doesn’t obey or do everything to my satisfaction. The punishments range from withholding orgasms to clamping of various body parts for varying lengths of time, to the more punitive measures of whipping, flogging, and caning.

  She’s chosen to say “jungle” when things get uncomfortable, and “fever” when they become unbearable. She’s either been extremely lucky, or the cards have been manipulated, but I know they haven’t because she is never in this room without me, and I shuffle them each time we enter. I have gone easy on her thus far, admittedly.

  “Never forget them,” I say.

  “Yes, Sir.”

  I warm my icy glare. “Good.”

  Now that the housekeeping tasks are over, time to get down to business. I take her in from a closer vantage point, directly in her personal space. “This bustier turns me on.” I run my hands along her waist then up her torso until I cup both of her breasts. “I think we’ll leave it.”

  I slip her thong down and let it drop to her feet. She waits obediently for further instruction.

  “Step out.”

  “Yes, Master.” There’s my favorite term of endearment again.

  Keisha is focused and currently ticking all the boxes of a good submissive, despite my gentle upbraiding. My smoking jacket is punched out and tented by a massive erection, but I’m in no hurry to claim my prize. I can’t say the same for Keisha, because I can see her lowered eyes slanting to get a look at what’s going on inside my pants. Sensory deprivation and the slow burn are what get me off more than anything, and she knows this well now.