“It’s Daney.” She held out the phone. “He sounds mad.”
That was an understatement.
“Did you fuckin’ read that bull shit from Peter Goldberg? The little prick. And I fuckin’ know the guy! Every asshole in the world has called me today to ask about that crap blog. I’m about to put my fuckin’ fist through the wall!”
“Shhh,” Fiona soothed, holding back her laughter. “Don’t do that. You need that fist to stay pretty so you can get the money. I was gon’ write a letter for my web site to try and allay some of this. I was planning to refer to you as obliquely as possible.”
“I don’t give a shit! You can call me your future husband if you want to. I can’t believe this, man. I date other people, it gets a mention. I hook up with you, and we’re a hotter topic than President Obama winning the Nobel peace prize.” He huffed indignantly. “Wait. You said you were planning to. You didn’t?”
“Nope. Instead I shall maintain a stoic reserve.”
“While I’m flying off the handle and topping off beer number three at my boy’s house. I miss you.”
Fiona grinned; she could practically see him pouting. “I gotta make a run to pick up shit for the party. Am I gonna see you tonight?”
“I can come through in a few hours.”
“Let me come to you. I don’t feel like looking in Buck’s face. I just need to sober up before I get behind the wheel and kill my damn self.”
“Don’t do that,” Fiona laughed. She’d never heard him so upset. He even sounded drunk, and Daney rarely drank. One beer was a stretch. He disliked anything that smacked of being out of control, unless it was happening between his or her legs. Then it was all hands on deck! “What would I do?”
He chuckled. “Be my baby.”
“I am.”
“Bye.”
“Peace.”
******
Fiona was chuckling so energetically Netty rolled her eyes.
“Who was that? Daney or your new boy?”
“Stop referring to my new costar as my new boy. That personal a designation would seem to imply more feeling than is actually present.”
Netty snorted, as she did every time Fiona did one of her online elocution lessons. “You didn’t answer the question.”
“It was Daney, bitch. Damn. You ain’t gon’ believe what this muthafucka tryna make me believe. He say he ain’t never been to a strip club.”
Netty rolled her eyes again. “Bull shit.”
Fiona didn’t believe it either. There was no way on earth a man who looked like Daney, who was as well liked as Daney and had as much money as Daney had never been to one of the pleasure palaces that men visited with dutiful regularity.
“You mean to tell me, never?” She demanded. She pounced on him the minute she was in the house and behind her closed bedroom door where he’d been waiting, sans clothes, God bless him.
Daney shook his head and looked uncomfortable. He’d been stroking an impressive erection when she walked in, but now he let it go a little guiltily. “I don’t like the idea of all those women like, forced to strip for money. Never have. It smacks of a slave farm or something,” he snorted. “Even if the horn balls paying are the slaves. I think sex should be a one on one, intimate, very much behind closed doors activity. Where were you?”
Fiona rolled off the bed and started taking off her clothes. “Store. So that’s why I never read about your escapades in the paper. You’re having them, you’re just very discreet?”
Daney shot her a look. He wasn’t touching that. She never answered any questions about her past except to say that she was disease free and hadn’t had unprotected sex in like years. He concurred. He’d had two relationships, each for several months, and never once fucked without a condom.
“I buy in bulk,” he’d said, eyes falling from her skeptically raised eyebrows to the dewy skin exposed by matching red lace underwear. “How’d you get Flora if you haven’t done it raw in forever?”
“She was a condom failure. I figured she was meant to be.”
He agreed.
“I’m gonna have a strip club for you,” she said now.
He laughed as she disappeared into the bathroom. “What?” he yelled over the water running. Fiona emerged a few minutes later with a clean face and a toothbrush dangling from the corner of her mouth.
“I want you and your boys to come over tomorrow. I’m gonna have some strippers over. Bring money.”
“For real?” he asked, when she finished her teeth.
He watched her root through the pots and bottles on her vanity the way she did every night. His last good night kisses always tasted faintly of beauty counter. He fidgeted as she slipped absently into the white shirt she’d taken to wearing around the house. It was a baggy, sheer blouse that slid off one creamy shoulder. A gift from an old dear friend, she’d told him when he commented on it. A girl, she added, and grinned when the jealous wrinkle above his brow cleared.
“Yeah, but not tomorrow. Friday. I need time to do this shit right.”
“What’s the occasion?”
“The occasion is that I’m throwing you a party so make sure you show up early and be excited.”
“How was the studio today?” He whispered, rolling her under him when she ventured close enough to grab. He sighed as he nuzzled the scented line of her jaw. He nibbled his way into her cleavage. Her décolletage was always impressive, but today Netty had stuffed her into a push up bra, and her breasts were overflowing. “Take this off.”
“I had a lot of fun. I didn’t realize how much I’d missed it,” she said, wriggling as she dealt with the bra.
“You were in there all day. When do we get to hear the song?”
“I didn’t record a song, just a hook.” Which made two in the past few months. There were rumblings that she might come out with an album. Something she’d never confirmed or denied because she wasn’t sure what the hell she wanted to do.
This latest sojourn into the studio had been fun, more fun than the hook she’d done before, which had been a favor for a high profile international artist, who’d begged and begged until Cleo had worn her down.
“And it took all day?” he asked, tossing silk panties over the side of the bed. She’d told him the producer was a friend of Natty’s. He refrained from asking if she’d liked him.
“I didn’t get there ‘til almost noon.”
“You’ll be in the studio full-time soon, mark my words,” he said, voice muffled by her right breast.
Fiona didn’t answer. Two hooks did not a studio album make. The ambivalence that had plagued her for the past few months made it tough to make choices, but she still had enough grit to refuse to be talked into another album when her heart wasn’t in it. Her music meant too much to do anything half-assed. Besides, she was distracted.
Daney liked to slip into her at the end of a sentence. One sneaky little thrust, or so he thought, but Fiona felt every millimeter. Every bit of damp, pink and brown flesh reacted rapturously to his deep, sensuous stroking.
“I can’t get over it,” she whispered, when they lay recovering later.
“Well, some men are just naturally better lovers than others.”
Fiona laughed. “Sure enough.”
He’d meant it as a joke, but Fiona knew for a fact some men did have a more sensitive touch. Some were naturally more attentive or more intuitive about a woman’s needs. Daney seemed to have tuned into an almost youthful frequency in her. He excited her even when they weren’t making love. It reminded her of that flash of sexual awareness you have as a young girl when the first boy touches your breasts or sneaks his way into your panties. The tingles, the belly flutters, the heartbeat so loud and fast in your chest you get dizzy with excitement even as fear bubbles alongside it all.
Had they acknowledged the rare depth of feeling they inspired in each other, they might have experienced something more, but they didn’t because neither believed it was possible to feel better than they felt
in that moment Daney was fully lodged inside Fiona’s warm body.
A few times, Fiona had caught a certain look on her lover’s face. A look that suggested he wanted to talk seriously, but she was adept at the pleasurable art of distraction. She wouldn’t allow herself to think about why she didn’t want to entertain serious conversations, beyond an almost rabid desire to avoid any mess.
Mess was her singular descriptor for anything resembling relationships since she found out she was pregnant, and Flora’s daddy, who she’d been very quietly dating for nearly a year, told her in no uncertain terms she was on her own.
Chapter seven
“This is gonna be so fun!” Netty exclaimed when Fiona told her about the stripper bash. “Wear this.” She held up a completely sheer black gown with two lace flowers, one at the top and one at the bottom.
“Damn, girl. What’s with you and sheer shit lately? Cleo’s already starving me damn near to death.”
“Hello, dim lighting throughout? Come on! This is a sexy night. You’re the hostess.”
Fiona laughed. “So the hostess of a sexy night wears a see-through black dress with decorative shoulder and hem flowers? Tell me, does she wear underwear?”
Netty held up black silk boy shorts and a black push up bra from Vickie Seek.
Fiona shook her head. “No more push up bras. Shit’s scary.”
“Peace,” Netty answered the phone. “It’s Daney II.”
Fiona gave her the finger. “Peace.”
“Hey gorgeous. Whatchu doin’ tonight? The boys and I want you and the girls to come over and watch a movie on the new plasma.”
“Can’t. I got strippers comin’ in an hour. Thanks though.”
“What?” he laughed. “You’re having a party and you didn’t invite me?”
“No! I mean, yeah, but —”
“Well, my party can easily crash your party. You were the guest of honor. Lemme round up the boys and the toys, and we’ll be over in a few, ‘kay?”
Fiona looked at the phone buzzing in her hand and sighed. “He’s coming over. We need more strippers.”
Netty burst out laughing. “You think if there’s more tits and ass in here Daney won’t notice his doppelganger flirting with you across the room? I can’t believe you told him he could come over, player. You’re usually smoother than that.”
Fiona pretended to shoot an imaginary gun into her mouth. Tino hadn’t given her a chance to say anything. He’d invited himself and hung up like someone used to having his way, and in typical Tino fashion her efforts to redial were met with voicemail. Shit. Well, she’d have to deal with it the best way she could. If the female form held its usual sway she might just make it through.
Netty and Sugar went to get the strippers after she was dressed and they’d set out the non-perishable food. She called Daney.
“You gon’ be on time?”
“I’m on my way. One more stop and I’m all yours.”
“Whatta ya gotta stop for? I got everything you need right here.”
Daney laughed softly. “I know. But what I’m stopping for is for you, not me.”
“Don’t buy me nothin’ else!” She laughed in delight. Aside from myriad bouquets of flowers and expensive European chocolates the girls got to enjoy more than she did, she’d collected a gold necklace, a pair of diamond earrings and a Gucci bag because he said she was getting crabby from purse withdrawal following a third bitchy call from her money-hoarding business manager.
“You’ll like this,” he promised.
“I like everything you give me,” she whispered.
“Your voice sounds better today.”
“Yeah? I thought so, but I still need to shut up.” And quit smoking, which she was finding rather hard to do.
“Won’t be a problem, babe,” Daney was laughing. “Much as I love talking to you I don’t think I’m gonna want a lot of conversation tonight.”
“I love the way your mind works. Did I tell you how glad I am you’re coming over?”
He made a dismissive noise. “Being with you is like being on vacation. Trust me, it’s my pleasure. My distinct, acute, intensely felt pleasure.”
Fiona laughed. “Somebody had elocution lessons today.”
He chuckled. “How’d you know? In a few months I’ll be in New York playing a mischievous escort in a Paul Haggis film.”
“Congratulations!”
Daney snorted. “My manager swears it’ll be like five minutes work. Which guaranteed translates to complete and utter aggravation, but it’s not a bad little part. I even got a few lines.”
“Your first movie role?”
“No. I had a cameo in a Spanish film starring Angela Cruz.”
“Was she nice?”
“I don’t really remember. I didn’t interact with her much. I was in and out.”
“I’m glad you don’t do me like that.”
He laughed softly. “Yes, I do.”
“Hurry up.”
“Bye, babe.”
******
“Where’s Cleo?”
“Oh, she called to say she was staying in town with Andrea tonight,” Netty answered. “They’re at some meeting, and then it’s all about press strategy for the show. Oh, she said to tell you there’s been some problems with the changes you want made to the make out script. So if anybody from HBO calls don’t answer.”
Fiona grunted at this. HBO was being unusually firm about their need for a high action love scene. High action, her ass. She was completely naked getting fucked from behind with a scarf around her neck like reins. She’d tell them to kiss her black ass twice right in the crack before it went down like that. “Does she know we’re having a party?”
Netty nodded and grinned. “Andrea said make damn sure no one brings in or leaves with digital recording devices or cameras of any kind.”
“Who’s watching the strippers?”
“Sugar. They’re not toddlers, Fiona.”
“No, but they are strangers. Sugar’s recommendation mentioned a limited time in their acquaintance.”
“Your new manner of speaking is getting annoying.”
Daney wasn’t the only one working on his speech. Fiona was trying to de-slang hers in preparation for her extended Transplants gig. “Fuck you. I’m going to put on my net sack. Hold it down out here for me, will you?”
It didn’t take long to don her undies and the sheer sheath so Fiona lit a pinner while she tidied the bedroom. She and Daney would untidy it later. Someone knocked.
“Come in.”
“Special delivery,” said a deep voice from behind a huge brilliantly colored floral bouquet.
Fiona cooed gleefully and pounced on the blooms. She sneezed and hastily moved back. So far she’d managed to keep him from discovering she was mildly allergic. “They’re fabulous.”
He laughed. “Are you okay?”
“Yes!” But she put the flowers on a far dresser where she could admire them safely.
“Whoa.”
He’d taken a good look at what she was wearing.
“That’s some outfit you’ve almost got on.”
Fiona posed with hand on hip to angle her curves to best advantage. “You like? I figured since I’m the madam of this homemade strip club, I should dress accordingly.” She forgot posing as she pressed herself to his front and breathed on him through parted lips.
Daney groaned and captured her lips in one of those breath-stealing kisses that made her heart race like a runner and her pussy feel like it had been blown with magic dust. He ran big hands over her back and ass, grabbing the backs of her thighs to pull her into his erection. She clung to him like lint as they fed from each other’s mouths and rubbed until they broke a sweat.
“The flowers are just the beginning of your present,” he gasped, breaking away enough to speak. He’d already leaned forward to kiss her again when a hand began to pat down his pockets. He laughed, and caught her other hand busily investigating the growing length of his cock. “
I don’t think it’s in there.”
“Yes, it is,” Fiona laughed.
“It’s in my back pocket.”
Daney enjoyed the way she shoved both hands into his pockets at once, her little hands clenched meaningfully on his ass and the promised box. She opened it.
It was a ring. “Sapphire?”
He nodded.
“Rare,” she whispered, slipping the orange padparadscha sapphire onto her right ring finger. She turned it this way and that so the diamonds caught the light. The ring sparkled cheerfully. “Thank you,” she said simply, wrapping her arms around his neck. She hugged him tight, her legs rising to hug his hips. Daney shifted instantly to take her weight.
There was a knock at the door. Netty poked her head in. “You’re new co-star is here.”
Fiona had forgotten about him completely, but now she tugged her mouth from her beau’s, kissing his nose in apology as her legs unfolded from his waist. “Daney, baby, don’t be mad. But you have to share your strip club with this guy from my job. You know that show I was telling you about?” she teased.
“The one the tabloids are blowing up over?” Daney asked wryly. “The one trying to convince you to agree to a filthy love scene? Yeah, I think I remember. You invited him to my party?” He sounded hurt.
“No! Absolutely not. I told him I was having a party because he wanted to invite me to one, but as soon as I said the word strippers he invited himself and hung up before I could stop him. Since we work together I didn’t think it’d be politico to tell him to fuck off, you know?”
“I can’t believe you invited another man to my stripper bash.”
“Baby,” Fiona said, drawing the word into at least three syllables. “You know it’s not like that. You the one.” She kissed him gently on the lips once, twice, then laid her head on his shoulder and cuddled close as she admired her ring.
“I don’t feel like partying anymore.”
“Oh, fuck that! You comin’ out here to this party,” Netty said, busting in and grabbing him by the elbow. “Come on, Fiona,” she ordered, nodding for her to grab his other arm.
Fiona Love Page 9