by B. M. Hardin
Other than the money, the hardest part for me was going to be remembering not to get too attached.
Before this, only men that I was seriously involved with had even gotten close enough to touch or even smell the pussy for that matter. I was one of those women who loved to be in love. He had to love me, or at least pretend to love me, before he got to touch me. That's just how it was. Sex, to me, was a sign of intimacy. It was an action to show you just how much I loved you. Besides, I was too freaky and too nasty to just be pleasing any and everybody. Giving myself in that way to men because I had been paid to do so wasn’t going to be easy. Even when the top dog tested my product, I secretly cried the entire time. I didn’t know this man from a can of paint and to let someone get on top of me and use me in any way they wanted to, just didn’t sit well with me.
Nevertheless, here I was, with a man I barely knew, readily awaiting his every command.
Marcus was a kind man. He had been the perfect gentleman.
He was funny and he had a lot to offer. Oh, and did I mention that Marcus also ended up being the man from the diner that day, who had given me the hundred dollar tip?
I know, strange huh?
Apparently, then, he was in Charlotte to see the top dog in regards to the escort services.
He was one of San Francisco, California most eligible bachelors'. I couldn’t help but wonder why he was single. He was so damn fine. I mean, fine. He put the F in fine. He could get me any day, everyday...for free. It was a task for me to keep my gangsta' from getting wet anytime he got near me. I tell you, it was more than hard to remember that this was strictly business. Lord knows I wanted it to be for pleasure, my pleasure.
That night, we were sitting around, laughing and talking as usual. I was so comfortable with him and it seemed that he felt the same way around me.
"So, tell me, why would you be going through an escort service? You can have any and I mean any woman you want."
He smiled and started to blush as sat his glass of Scotch down before he spoke. I loved his smile.
Calm down kitty, I demanded my purring vagina.
“Well, the biggest reason is time. I have absolutely no time to date, mingle, or just to have fun. Being wealthy comes with working long hard hours; leaving me barely enough time to enjoy my earnings. How about you? I read your profile so how does a woman as beautiful and intelligent as you are, end up with a gig like this?"
“Oh, well, that's an easy question. One word... Money." I smirked and looked at myself in the mirror.
He was right. I was definitely a sight to see. I was a chocolate brown, a shade or two lighter than chocolate itself. My skin was smooth, flawless. My breast weren’t all that big, an average B cup. But this big ole' booty made up for my lack in my chest area. It wasn’t a Niecy booty, but still I had ass for days; wide hips and a firm set of thighs too. My face was perfectly round, with juicy, full lips, with naturally arched brows and high cheek bones to match. I didn’t even have to wear one ounce of make-up, which is more than I could say for most. My eyes were bold and dark. My grandma often joked that they were deep, and secretive; she called them the portals to my soul. For years I believed her and I allowed my eyes to tell a person just what I felt in my heart. But I learned to disguise it along the way.
I also had a head full of soft, long, jet black curls that rested peacefully just above my shoulders. I was and had always been, beautiful. For some reason or another, I thought about how being so beautiful coming up in my neck of the woods, hadn’t always been such a good thing. Not only out in the streets, but your family could be your worst enemy.
My aunt Marie stuck out in my mind.
Aunt Marie was my great aunt, my grandmothers' sister. She appeared to be this sweet older lady but really, she worked for the devil. I remembered how I would catch her watching me as I played, watching me as I talked. She would even follow me around. For some reason she always kept a close eye on me and I never understood why until one day she asked if I wanted to spend the night with her. She had never done me any wrong and let’s face it; when sharing a mattress with two other girls twice my size, the idea being able to sleep alone, for once, answered her question for me.
The ride to her house was fine. She cooked for me, braided my hair, you know, gave me a little attention and love.
Bath time is where things got strange.
She entered the bathroom with candles, a sock, a pair of knee-highs and some tape. I watched her as she lit the candles one by one and then she asked me to get up. Confused, I did as I was told.
First, she tied my hands together and then my feet with the knee-highs. When she had become tired of my questions, she placed the sock in my mouth and placed the tape on the top of it. I began to cry but she appeared to have cared less. Once all of the water from the tub had gone down the drain, she placed my shaking, naked body on my back. She started to chant something, or maybe she was praying. At first, my cries drowned her out but something told me to pay attention to the words that were coming out of her mouth. She was asking, whoever it was that she was praying to, for my beauty, my youthfulness. She went on and on about how beautiful I was and how much she despised her aging, wrinkled face. She began to pour the hot wax from the candle on my body. I squirmed and forced my screams from the pit of my belly but she couldn’t hear them. She could only hear herself and whatever demon it was that she was talking to.
Aunt Marie kneeled beside of me and lifted my tied hands in the air. She rubbed my hair and the traced the outline of my face with her fingertips.
But then all of a sudden, she began to scratch my face, and I mean literally, scratch my face. She clawed me maybe a hundred times until little specks of blood were visible underneath her finger nails. The chanting continued for another hour or so, and then suddenly, she stopped.
She got up from her knees and looked in the bathroom mirror. Assuming she had gotten disappointed, she broke the mirror with her bare hand and exited the bathroom, leaving me naked and tied up, and she didn’t return until that morning. With more than enough threats from her to last a lifetime, I allowed her to lie to my mama and say that the cat had got a hold of me while I was sleeping and scratched up my face. To this day, I was unsure as to why she had tortured me that way. I guessed that she thought somehow she could transfer my beauty from my face to her own, but whatever the reason was, I was convinced that she was a crazy bat from hell, and after that day and on up until she died, I never let her come near me again.
I had completely tuned Marcus out so I focused on giving him back my attention.
“Money you say and you mean to tell me that a woman like you couldn’t find any other means of making money?" he smiled and stood up behind me.
He walked close enough for me to feel his hot breath on the back of my neck, but not close enough for me to feel the bulge in his pants. I mean, I was half naked, what did I expect? If he wasn’t on hard, there would be a problem. I turned to face him. I almost instantly wished that I had met him under different circumstances. The day at the diner, I should have put my pride aside and at least made casual conversation with him. Obviously he was attracted to me, who knows what would have happened.
And he seemed like a pretty decent guy.
Face to face with him, I could tell that he wanted me but that he wasn’t going to ask for it.
After all, I was his first escort and besides he wasn’t one of those rich guys that were all about what he wanted, when he wanted it. He was genuinely a great catch.
Being that at first sight of him, I, well she, had wanted him. I decided that he was worth breaking all my rules, by choice, and that I should give him his money's worth. I knew making the first move would be totally up to me, and being that I hadn’t had a piece of meat, that I actually wanted, in a long, long time, I figured I would give us both a little treat.
Not entirely thinking it through, I kissed him. At first, he didn’t kiss me back. I couldn’t tell if it was because he was nervous, or if it was
out of fear. I for damn sure knew that it wasn’t from the lack of him being turned on because his thick, big, piece of manhood was constantly harassing my left thigh.
I was growing anxious and impatient as my juices began to flow uncontrollably, causing my hormones to be all over the place.
"What's wrong? Don't you want me?" I begged him in a whisper.
“Yes, I want you so bad." he said with his eyes closed. He began to softly rub my back and soon made his way to my buttocks and then eased his way to my good stuff. His fingers moved with excitement as he caressed my clit.
"Take me." I demanded out of pure arousal. My eyes were shut tight, focusing on what this man was doing to me. It felt more than good. It felt damn good.
“I want to, but--"
I opened my eyes; something in me told me that I was going to end up pleasing myself tonight.
"But what?" I asked, almost pouting.
"But I can’t." he said and dropped his head.
I frowned and pushed away from him.
I didn’t even bother to ask why. I didn’t care why. I had heard what was important.
“It’s not you. It's me." he tried to explain.
“Whatever you say. It's okay. I just thought that’s what you wanted. I'm new to this and I thought it was a part of the job." I shrugged my shoulders and hurriedly made my way to the bathroom. I didn’t have time to talk to him; I had some business of my own to tend to. I sat on the toilet and lifted my leg, placing it on the side of the tub. I had to finish what he had started.
~***~
The next two days went by with a breeze. Marcus still didn’t touch me, well not in the way that I wanted him to. I couldn’t really complain though.
I had made $25,000 without even having to have sex for it. Yea, I was thinking, I might as well hang in there for a few more weeks. This was all too easy.
On the way to the airport we rode in silence. California was so beautiful. I had never seen such beautiful houses or beautiful people in all my life. I thought about what it would be like to live out here. It was a different kind of scenery. But again, here, to live here, plenty money would be required.
“Kasey?" Marcus spoke.
I rolled my eyes. Though, I didn’t know exactly what for. Maybe it was because he interrupted my thoughts or maybe I was still upset that he didn’t touch me.
What was wrong with me?
I had no reason to be mad, but for some reason I was. Or maybe I was disappointed.
No, you know what, I know what it is; I was just plain out horny.
"Yes?"
“Kasey, can I say something? Can I tell you why I couldn’t have sex with you?"
Oh lord, I couldn’t help but wonder what he had to say. I knew it was a reason why his fine ass was single.
“It’s okay. You don’t have to explain yourself."
“I couldn’t have sex with you because I think I have some type of feelings for you; real feelings for you. Ever since I saw you at the diner, the first time, I was in awe in you. I had been there twice before you actually noticed me, or waited on me. I told myself that the next time I was in town, I was going to make myself introduce myself but I chickened out. I don’t know why, I just did. And then when I was going through the profiles and I saw you, I had to get close to you."
Wow! I was floored by what he said. Despite that he was somewhat of a stalker, it was still cute. And furthermore I couldn’t believe that he was even interested in me.
I had nothing. I was a “nobody”, and he was a “somebody”.
“So, now that it’s out there, can I take you on a real date? Oh, and one other thing..."
"What?"
“We got to find you another job." He smirked.
~* **********~
~* Sometimes you have to expect the unexpected because the unexpected is usually more than you ever expected it to be*~
~*Anonymous
*Chapter Five*
It didn’t feel like or look like winter. You would have never even guessed that Christmas was only two weeks away in California. Those were my exact thoughts as I stood on the balcony, catching the seventy-five degree breeze.
I had been out here for about six months now, and it still didn’t feel quite like home.
Six months ago, I'd gotten off the plane from my first and last trip, only to get home and find Niecy lying on the living room floor in a puddle of blood...dead.
Apparently, not all of the married men wives knew what they were up to and let's just say one of them weren’t too happy about it. She emptied her gun on Niecy, five of the bullets in the back of her head. I couldn’t help but wonder what Niecy had to have said for her to shot her.
Or if she had even said anything, because if the wife had actually given her a chance to talk, there was just no way would she have been able to shoot her. No...not Niecy.
The whole situation had me all torn up. I was an emotional wreck. In just a short time she had given me more love than anyone had in these past few years. What was I going to do without her? I would be all alone... again.
That saddest part about it and the thing that really got to me was that I knew just how much she hated the job and I knew of her plans to get out. She was almost out. Her contract was less than a month away; But...
I was in such a bad place that I couldn’t even go to her funeral. I just couldn’t see her lying there.
Nevertheless, that was my sign to get out and stay out.
Of course, I could, but couldn’t, stay in the apartment and though I finally had some money in the bank, when I called Marcus and told him what had happened, he suggested that I take a break from everything and crash with him a few weeks.
Of course I couldn’t resist, nor decline. I felt like getting away from it all would do me some good.
But a few weeks turned into a few months, and here we were, scheduled to be married tomorrow. I know, I know, some would say I was moving too fast. A little over six months wasn’t enough time to get to know someone, but let’s face it, I wasn’t getting any younger and besides, I had lived with this man and I'm sure if there was anything worth declining his hand in marriage for, I would have seen it or at least seen a sign of it by now.
Besides, Marcus was the man of my dreams. He was smart, successful and as sweet as apple pie. He treated me like his queen. I had never been so in love with a man before. We were head over heels in love with each other and there wasn’t a thing anyone could do about it. I truly loved him. And not just for his money, well, of course it didn’t hurt that he had millions, but our relationship was definitely more than the dollar signs. It was deeper than that.
We had a bond so strong that it seemed as if we had known each other for years. He was my lover, my friend; he was my everything. And I couldn’t wait to be Mrs. Marcus Gordon.
Never in a million years did I think I would be marrying a millionaire. I mean the mansion we lived in was huge. I had three cars and my own bank account with more than enough money than I could count. I was officially about to be what they called rich and it was so hard for me to believe. I was so used to having nothing that I didn’t quite know how it would be to have everything. I had simply prayed for stability but I had gotten that and then some.
Tomorrow couldn’t have come fast enough. Our mansion was filled with over two thousand guests; mostly his, only about twenty of them were actually mine.
The ivory, orange and fuchsia flower arrangements covered almost every inch of the house as well as the outside. Everything was so beautiful, and I just couldn’t believe that it was all for me.
I couldn’t believe that I was finally getting married. I had waited for this day for so long that it almost seemed surreal. I was a woman that pretty much did everything right to keep her man. I was smart, funny, witty and just to name a few. I was their homie; their friend. Someone they could watch football with, but yet someone that would cater to them and freak them beyond their wildest dreams. I had always been on hell of a catch. In my adul
t life, with the exception of one or two, and the past two years, almost every man I dated, wanted to marry me. But there was always something wrong with them. Or at least it was always something that I found to be wrong with them.
I was starting to think that I would never get married.
One time maybe six or seven years ago, I came really close. Back home, I was engaged to a guy named Tony. He was an okay guy. Genuinely sweet, charming, the usual.
We had been together about a year and a half when he proposed.
I accepted but as time went on, I started to feel like we didn’t exactly have what it took to last forever. He was a good man, he truly was but he absolutely bored me. Not at first, but after we got engaged, I just seemed to be so uninterested in him.
I remembered the day that I realized he wasn’t actually the one. We were discussing wedding plans and he asked me a question that should have been the easiest question of all but at the time it was the hardest.
“Are you ready to spend every day of the rest of your life with me?” he asked.
Sadly, the answer to that question was no. You see, love shouldn’t be confused. When you truly love someone, if nothing else, you’re sure that you love them and that you want to be with them. It’s the unsure parts, or the overlooking things that we actually need to be content, that we bypass and end up in a bad situation. Really, how can you marry someone that doesn’t give you everything you need?
Note, no one is perfect and they may not be able to give you everything you want but before you say I do, they should give you the things you need most. Say, why would a guy that feels like oral sex is a must have, he needs his woman to put her mouth on him to show him how much she loves him. If that’s something that he feels he needs, why would he marry a woman who doesn’t give it or even like oral sex? Granted she has everything else, but it will be a cold day in hell before she puts his mouth on him. So the question is, why would he marry her? Because before long if he's not getting it at home, he's going to go looking for it elsewhere. And what one woman won’t do, another woman will. Unfortunately. So, with that being said, Tony was a good guy; a great provider, a great person all around. But we just didn’t have that thing that you needed to make something last forever. The communication wasn’t there. The friendship just wasn’t there. And two months before our wedding day, I walked away before I ruined his life and mine.