by Candice Dow
When I stepped off the plane the warm air smothered me as I walked through the tunnel into the terminal. It felt weird not having anyone to call to say that I arrived, so I just headed to baggage claim. I wasn’t sure if there would be a car waiting for me or not. I looked around and didn’t see my name on any of the signs. That was my cue to hail a taxi to South Beach.
It was mid-afternoon and Ocean Drive was packed with people of all colors and ages. The taxi pulled up to the Shore Club hotel. I put my sunshades on before stepping out of the car. The driver rolled my small luggage around to me. For a moment I stood there. I felt nervous. The building looked just average, not what I would expect of a baller. When I entered, my opinion immediately changed.
The lobby was art deco with sleek white leather couches scattered around. I tossed my hair behind my ear and removed my shades. I walked to the front desk and the bubbly receptionist greeted me politely with a strong Brazilian accent.
“I’m checking in.”
“Your name?”
“London Reed.”
She typed into the system and nodded. I began to open my wallet because I wanted to be ready just in case. She placed the keys in a small silver envelope.
“You’re in one of our poolside bungalows, number six. If you walk out here toward the pool you’ll see the bungalows on the left.”
I headed to my room, unsure of what to expect. I was trying to figure out if my client was going to call me or was already in the room. When I opened the door to the two-story little cottage I said, “Hello.”
When no one responded I assumed I was there alone. So I went into the bathroom and turned on the shower. Thorne had given me limited instructions, so I figured I would just hang out until the next clue. After I showered I put on a bikini and stepped onto my private patio.
I flagged down one of the waiters hustling around the pool and asked for a menu. After ordering a piña colada and chicken quesadillas, I stretched out with my head at the foot of the lounger to face the pool. It wasn’t too crowded, but there were a good number of people lounging around the pool.
When my food came, I sat up to eat, looked across the pool, and there he was. He wore a pair of red swim trunks and had a bare, chiseled chest. He carried two drinks in his hands. I could barely concentrate to sign the receipt for my food as I watched his every step, none of which was in my direction. He stood over a lady lying by the pool and handed her the drink. He straddled the lounger with her and I noticed that she was wearing a ring. Could that be his wife? Why would he invite me here with his wife?
There was no way this was occurring. I had a hard time keeping my eyes off of them. Two little boys jumped out of the pool and ran toward them. He put more sunblock on them and proceeded to rub his wife with the excess. My bottom lip was hanging; I was confused and baffled. Were they also in the bungalows? There were only a few, about six or seven, and that would be too close for comfort. They talked and laughed as my food sat in front of me untouched. Finally I figured I would snap out of it and pretend to be ignorant.
I started eating and just couldn’t shake the thought. I waved the waiter down for another drink. There was no way I could participate in this drama with a sober mind. After I began to feel a buzz I headed back inside. I wanted to call someone, but I didn’t have anyone I could share this with, so I paced the floor.
Knock. Knock. Knock. I nearly jumped out of my skin. After taking a deep breath, I went to the door. He came in, still in his swim trunks. “I’m glad you made it, ma.”
“Is that your wife you’re with?”
“Don’t talk,” he said, as he stuck his tongue down my throat. While untying my bikini, he said, “I know you got condoms.”
“In my purse…”
He rammed his fingers inside me as we stumbled over to the sofa where my purse sat. I quickly pulled out a condom and he yanked the monster from his shorts. This man required no foreplay, he was always ready. He bent me over and entered me from behind. It didn’t hurt as much as the first time. Maybe it was the excitement mixed with the fear of being caught by his wife that turned me on, because I was prepared for him. He held my waist as he pounded into me. As he commanded me to say I loved it, I looked at the open patio door and didn’t say anything. He pulled my hair and I screamed. He kept doing it. My pain was giving him pleasure as he groaned behind me. He turned me around and plunged deep in me. I wiped the sweat dripping from his face as he panted aggressively on me. Finally he released.
I’d learned the last time that that didn’t necessarily mean we were done. I took a deep breath when he rolled over and sat beside me, but I didn’t move. I waited for his second wind to kick in. He rubbed my thigh.
“I like that.”
“What?”
“You can handle me.” He laughed. “All of me.”
He stood up and went into the bathroom. Not sure if he rinsed off while in there, but he came out with his shorts back on. He headed toward the door.
“I’ll meet you back here around one in the morning.”
My eyes circled as I said, “Okay.”
I still wanted to understand the arrangement but it was obvious that he wasn’t offering any explanations. I was just here to provide a service. The rest was none of my business.
“You got two keys?”
I handed him my other key and sat on the couch, feeling slightly used and even more confused. After he left I went into the bathroom to shower and decided I should sleep on this situation.
When I woke up it was close to eight and the sun had started to set. I looked out my patio door and there weren’t many people left at the pool. I put on some clothes and headed to the hotel lounge.
It was quite empty, so I sat on the slim leather bar stool in the middle of the bar. The bartender spun around, passing me a bar menu as I studied the royal blue tiled backsplash.
I smiled at him. “That looks nice.”
“I wish I could take credit for it but I think the interior designer picked it out.”
I laughed. “I figured that, but I just thought I’d let you know I really like it.”
He was an ultra-tanned white guy with spiked hair, but he was cute. I smiled flirtatiously when he winked.
“Can I get you something to drink?” he asked.
“You sure can. Give me a dirty martini.”
I was in one of those moods. I heard some heels coming toward me. She looked different dressed up, but it was definitely her. His wife marched toward me almost as if she were about to approach me. Had she still been at the pool when her husband came to my room? Did she hear us?
Her long, curly black hair was pulled back into a ponytail and she had on a short fuchsia dress that hung off one shoulder. The rest of her dress looked melded onto her flawless copper skin. I quickly turned in the opposite direction because I didn’t want to give her the impression that I knew her or her husband. She would have to prove that she knew it was me first.
She plopped down a stool away from me. While shaking up my drink the bartender said, “Good evening, Mrs. Rick Picasso. What can I get you?”
“Malibu and pineapple juice,” she said politely.
My back was slightly turned in her direction when the bartender set my drink in front of me. She leaned over and tapped me. Oh shit, I thought as I slowly turned in her direction. She offered me the most pleasant, peaceful smile. Her teeth were so white and straight they almost made her look like a portrait.
“What’s that?” she asked.
“Oh, this is a dirty martini.”
“That looks strong.”
“It is,” I said, laughing.
The bartender asked, “You want one?”
“Certainly not. You know I don’t drink like that.”
How in the world could she have sex with her husband without heavy drinking? He was a beast and she was taking it with nothing for the pain. I checked out her wedding ring and it was huge. She deserved every karat she got for satisfying his appetite.
; The bartender handed her the drink.
“Thank you. I needed a little something. We’re about to go on a boat ride.”
“Really? Just you and hubby or the kids too?” asked the bartender.
“Absolutely not. Those rug rats are with the nanny. Rick will be down in a minute. After he finishes polishing every inch of his skin with oil.”
She laughed and it made me smile. I didn’t want to give her the impression that I was familiar with his vanity. She shook her head at me.
“Men. You gotta love them.”
“That’s true,” I said nicely, but I really wasn’t trying to be overly friendly.
The bartender said, “And what are you ladies trying to say?”
She touched my shoulder. “I don’t know about her man, but my man is a piece of work.”
She certainly wasn’t lying. That was the best way to describe him.
The bartender spoke passionately. “Your man is supposed to be a piece of work. He’s the best wide receiver in the league.”
“Okay, and…” she said, with her neck twirling.
He raised his hands defenselessly. “And I’m done.”
She seemed to be extremely carefree and offering information without reservation. Since she was clearly trying to strike up a conversation with me, I decided to oblige her.
“They all are a piece of work, girl.”
“You can say that again.”
“What kind of boat ride are you going on?”
“One of my husband’s friends is having a birthday party.” She paused. “I want to go like I want a hole in my head.”
“Why? It should be nice.”
“Honey, the groupies always find their way to the so-called private parties and it’s just irritating. You can’t even go out and have a nice time with your husband without having to claw chicks off of him.”
I felt bad, because I might have been in that groupie category. Or was I different because he had found me? I didn’t know, but as I sat there looking at this lady, sympathizing with her, I didn’t feel like there was a difference.
“I could imagine that being pretty irritating.”
“It is, but the sad part about it is, if they really got him, they would ship his ass right back on the first train smoking.”
She laughed and I laughed with her. There was something so sweet and happy about her. He didn’t deserve her and she didn’t deserve the drama.
“Things always look good from the outside looking in,” I said.
“How old are you?”
I was kind of shocked by the question, but finally I said, “Twenty-three.”
“You are smarter than most women ten years older than you. What you see is not always what you get.”
The lounge door opened and he walked in our direction with a perplexed look on his face. I wanted to crawl under the bar because I didn’t want him to think I’d approached her. He stood a few steps away from us.
“C’mon, baby.”
He acted like he didn’t even notice there was another person at the bar as he shook the bartender’s hand. After signing her check, she scooted off the stool and extended her hand. “Nice to meet you…?”
“London.”
“Okay, London, I’m Sandi.”
“Good to meet you.”
I peeped at the check to see which room they were staying in and if they were close to me as they headed out of the lounge. I didn’t have to catch the elevator to get to my room, so I was pretty clueless as to the number of floors. I asked the bartender. He obviously knew why I had asked, because he told me the Picassos were in the penthouse and it took up the entire top floor.
At around a quarter after one in the morning my room door opened. Where did Sandi think he was at this time of morning? I turned the television off and stood up from the couch wearing lingerie with heels. He looked me up and down, sort of as if he was attracted to the sight of me, but then again he looked agitated.
“What’s up?” I asked.
“That was some bullshit you pulled at the bar.”
“Rick, she started talking to me.”
“And that was your cue to get up and leave then.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to give her the impression that I was uncomfortable around her.”
“Yeah, whatever. Why were you even over there?”
“Was I supposed to stay in the room?”
“Nah, but you don’t need to be anywhere you can get up close and personal with my wife. Got that?”
I nodded. He pulled me to him. “Now come here and take care of me.”
He took off my bra and panties and we had an hour of rough sex. It didn’t feel like it had earlier. I was chafed again after he finished. He handed me some money before leaving. “A’ight, shorty, I’m out of here in the AM.”
“I thought you requested me for two nights.”
He looked into my eyes. “I changed my mind.”
It was fine with me, because aside from the financial gain, I’d only agreed to see him again because I thought he was a sweet guy. I certainly wouldn’t lose any rest over not feeling him inside me again.
He had been careless in booking me at the same hotel with his family and now he was mad that his wife and I had happened to run into each other. He was more than a piece of work and I was emotionless as I closed the door behind him.
15
When I got back to DC Thorne kept his promise and we hooked up. He came over shortly after I got in. Bruno was staying at the kennel an extra day so we had privacy. He picked up food from a restaurant a few blocks from my house. When he knocked on the door I felt warm and fuzzy inside. I don’t know why, but I felt excited to see him. Dressed in his usual Ralph Lauren button-down and jeans, he stood there posed for a second when I opened the front door.
“London Bridge.”
“C’mon in.”
He handed the bag of food to me and I walked over and put it on the counter. I returned to give him a hug. He held me tightly. When he finally let go he held on to my hands and looked me up and down.
“So how’d it go this weekend?”
I explained to him how Rick had acted after catching me talking to his wife. Thorne told me that typically clients don’t want any interaction with the wives even if they are careless enough to book the same hotel.
He said, “This is where I would normally tell you that will probably be your last encounter with him.”
“I know. He seemed pretty angry.”
“I said normally. Rick called today and he wants to see you again next week.”
“Are you serious? After he just walked out like that?”
“He probably was pissed, but between me and you, I have never had another girl agree to see him twice.”
I shook my head. “I know why.”
“Yes, I’ve heard. So you’re a rarity and he knows it. A man like that is not going to pass up a chick that can handle him.”
“I don’t know if I handle him or I’m the only one stupid enough to just deal with it.”
“You’re not stupid at all. You got that extra something. I can’t put my finger on it yet, though.”
As happy as I had been at the thought of not having to have sex with Rick again, I was even happier that he still wanted to. That made me feel special, because I’d thought for certain he would be on to the next one. Even Thorne looked impressed.
Just as we sat down to eat, my cell phone rang. I hopped up to grab it.
“Hey, Kari.”
“Hey, stranger. Where you been?”
Why was she certain that I had been missing in action? It’s not as if she had called and I hadn’t answered.
“I’ve been chilling.”
“I stopped by earlier yesterday because I had something to show you. When you didn’t answer, I figured I would use my key to check up on Bruno.”
“Why didn’t you just call me?”
“Because it was a surprise.”
“What was the surprise an
d why was it so urgent?”
She explained that she had decided to cut and dye her hair and halfway through getting it done she had looked in the mirror and felt like Boy George. So she rushed to my house with her hair half done, hoping I could help her. She waited for close to an hour because she didn’t want to go back out on the street. As she talked I was trying to figure out where I could say I’d been. My eyes were stretched wide and Thorne looked at me inquisitively. Kari was on the other end waiting for an explanation.
“I’m sure it’s not as bad as you think. I was in New Jersey. My mom’s brother is sick.”
“The one you don’t like?”
“Yeah, but she wanted me to go in her place and I just took Bruno with me.”
“I was like, ‘Where is London when I need her most?’ ”
I wrapped up the call. “I’m never too far away. Next time just call me. I just got back and I have to unpack so let me go.”
When I hung up, Thorne said, “That’s the hardest part, huh?”
“What’s that?”
“Coming up with lies about where you been and what you’re doing.”
“Yeah, how do you manage?”
“Well, it’s not hard for me because I just field calls. Make connections. You know? I don’t have to go anywhere unless I want to.”
“So why are you here?”
“London, you’re something else.”
“No, I’m just curious. Do you have to spend so much upfront time with everyone you recruit?”
“Some people don’t have to be convinced to do this. Some people are just open.”
“Do you think I’m open?”
“It’s not up to me to determine if you’re open. You are as open as you want to be. My job is to present an opportunity. If you’re interested, cool. If you’re not, cool. If you wake up tomorrow and decide you’re done, that’s cool too. For every woman that decides she won’t, there are two that will.”