by Risqué
“But you’re taking care of business now.”
“No, I’m not. I don’t know what type of games you all are playing, but I tell you what: you and Mr. Smith”—she pursed her lips—“can keep your fuckin’ grip.” She tucked her clutch under her arm and stood up.
“Sit yo’ ass down,” Bless said sternly, never raising his voice. Collyn looked at him, obviously taken aback. “I said”—he squinted as the waitress sat the coffee on the table and shot them a nervous smile—“sit down.”
Reluctantly Collyn complied as the waitress walked swiftly away.
Bless leaned in toward Collyn, his lips practically touching hers. “What’s really good with you, beautiful? Because this is far beyond us obviously wanting to fuck. I’ve got a lot of money and prestigious people tied into this who are flying in from all over, and if this doesn’t go off, they’re going to be pissed. Now, I don’t have the time nor the patience to pacify yo’ diva-ass fit. What I need is for you to keep your part of the bargain. You can get with Kenyatta later, but right now you need to deal with me.”
Collyn blinked. “Bless, is it? Let me explain something to you…again,” she said, looking directly into his face, her warm breath bouncing off his lips. “I’m not the one you need to play with. And ol’ boy should’ve told you that. I’m about my business, not fucking you.”
He looked at her and they locked eyes. “It’s all good, beautiful. I wouldn’t charge you.” He seductively licked his bottom lip and slid a large envelope filled with two hundred thousand dollars across the table between them. “Now, lovely, what you gon’ do?”
“About fucking you or this business arrangement?”
“Both.”
Collyn sat still for a few moments. She’d been in business a long time but had never had to deal with anything like this. Although she had a good feeling about Bless, at this moment she wasn’t sure if it was her aching pussy or her mind assuring her that he was straight.
Collyn’s mother had passed her the torch of being an exclusive pimp handling only elite and wealthy dick—politicians, Hollywood stars, Fortune 500 CEOs, and music moguls, men with more to lose than their sorry-ass wives. And in a situation like this her mother would’ve told her to use her intuition and think about her reputation. To be stern, but be a lady and maintain her professionalism. And to know that if she ever canceled an event, then it better be for the right reasons. Otherwise her reputation would be at stake, and in this business reputation was everything.
Collyn leaned back in her chair and crossed her legs. “Don’t let this happen again.”
“Why would it?”
She didn’t respond; instead she slid the envelope into her purse.
“Now,” Bless said with a smile, “we can have brunch.”
“Fuck brunch.” She placed fifty dollars on the table to cover her coffee and tip, slid her shades back on, and flipped open her cell phone. She called her driver, and when he answered she said, “You can come around now.”
Collyn stood and could feel Bless watching her ass as she strolled toward the black town car. The driver opened the rear door, and within seconds they disappeared into the city that never sleeps.
YOU HAVE MANAGED…
The amber sun turned crimson as it set over the Sag Harbor estate. From what Collyn could see, the party was going to go off perfectly, from the illuminated orange paper lanterns to the tropical fish swimming in the pond to the blossoming trees swaying in the warm breeze. Directly on the shore were rows of round tables covered with white linen cloths and complemented by gold chairs. There were white-gloved butlers everywhere serving Alaskan snow crab, Maine lobster, freshly rolled sushi, filet mignon, wine, and chilled Moët. White balloons and firecrackers flew through the air, while waterfalls flowed directly into the three in ground pools.
Collyn and her top girls arrived in a line of red Phantoms, and immediately all eyes were on them, which was no surprise because every actor, performer, and politician who was there knew that Collyn had the baddest chicks in the business: all brick houses, striking, voluptuous, in an array of beautiful blackness, from lusciously sweet vanilla to deep sensual chocolate.
Each stepped out of her respective Rolls and onto the thick red carpet, which was outlined by lit bamboo torches. The raging orange and blue flames created a mysterious hue that glistened off the women’s statuesque bodies. Collyn’s women wore only shimmering body oil and six-inch Jimmy Choos. Collyn was the exception—she wore a strapless, fitted cream silk dress that clung to her body like papier-mâché.
Collyn looked over her girls as French horns sounded and exotic male escorts took them by the arm and led them to their assigned venues for the night.
Once all the girls had dispersed Collyn strolled the grounds. Though she never participated in any of the sex, it was her job to ensure that everyone here had their fantasies fulfilled. And nothing was off-limits. By the time the guests left here all of their fantasies would be reality.
Each enclosed white tent had been assigned a different theme: girl on girl, swinging, voyeurism, threesomes, foursomes, and anything else one could imagine.
“Champagne?” the butler asked her, as she exited the S&M tent.
“Thank you.” She lifted a glass of Moët from the gold tray.
“Collyn.”
She turned around and noticed one of her regular and politically affiliated clients calling her name.
“Peterson, hello.” They kissed each other on each cheek.
“How’ve you been?” he pointed to Bless, who was standing next to him. “Are you familiar with Blessing Shields?”
She nodded her head, “Pleasure.”
He smiled, looking her over, “I’m sure.”
Immediately Collyn’s clit jumped. “So how have things been, Peterson?” Collyn said as she tapped the ball of her stiletto, hoping that no one could feel the force of her involuntary pussy pumps. She was half heartedly listening to Peterson as her eyes drifted toward staring at Bless. Never had she seen a man so beautiful: the butterfly muscles that protruded from his collarbones and ran into his defined arms were like exquisite works of African art.
He wore a tight wife-beater that complimented his washboard abs and large pecs. His beige linen pants hung off his waist, hinting at the defined ass within—one that she could imagine grabbing while they made love.
Collyn traced the rim of the glass with the tip of her index finger as she wondered how salty his skin would taste.
Damn, Collyn thought, this shit is crazy. I know better than this. “Well, Peterson, Blessing. It’s been very nice chatting with you, but if you’ll excuse me.” She turned around, “And Peterson,” she threw over her shoulder, “I just spotted your favorite girl, going into your favorite fetish tent.”
“Excuse me, Bless.” Peterson said as Collyn made her way back around the grounds. She was pissed that whatever attraction she had for Bless, she couldn’t seem to shake. Yeah she loved men and treasured dick, but no matter how rich he appeared to be, he was a trick, and the number one rule that her mother raised her with was tricks were off-limits.
Making her way through the half-naked crowd, Collyn sat down at the makeshift bar under the tent where there was live dance hall music. Although this was a high-class orgy, with people having their fetishes fulfilled all around them, the crowd in here was clothed. This was the one place the guests could go if they were taking an intermission from fucking and wanted to get their swerve on.
“You drinkin’ or thinkin’?” the bartender asked her.
She smiled, “Both.”
“Well,” he said, “I can listen to one and go get the other.”
“Well, thank you.” Collyn laughed. “But I’ll just have another glass of Moët.” She slid back on the stool and enjoyed the music.
The music reminded her of Kingston, Jamaica, her mother’s hometown. She closed her eyes and envisioned herself walking through the Caribbean sand. As she heard the bartender pouring her drink, “Thinking ab
out me?” poured over her shoulder. She knew it was Bless.
“Not quite,” she snapped.
“You’re too pretty to lie.”
Collyn laughed. She hated that he was so persistent, because it made it that much harder to resist him.
“So, do I get this dance?” he asked.
“I don’t mix business and pleasure.”
“Ai’ight, then place me on the side of pleasure.”
“I can’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m the only one here who’s not for sale.”
“Give it to me for free.”
Collyn crossed her legs, her erotic pearl pounding like a drumbeat. “And suppose I have a man?”
He spun her around toward him. “Fuck your man.”
Dead silence. There was nothing much to say after that. At least nothing Collyn could think of right away. She looked in his face and could see he was undressing every part of her body …again.
To him she was stunning, and every luscious curve of her exceeded perfection. Bless could only imagine that holding her in his arms would be the epitome of giving him something he could feel. Unable to resist, he slid his index finger down her full cleavage.
“Didn’t I tell you about touching me?” Collyn warned.
“You want me to stop?”
After a moment of dead silence Collyn said, “Look, there’s a lot of pussy out there and you paid a lot of money to have it here, so why don’t you go and enjoy?”
“Do you really want me to go out there and fuck one of them?” He gazed into her eyes and stroked her cheek.
Although Collyn found herself envisioning Bless’s smooth lips wrapping around her thick nipples, she didn’t respond to his question. There was no way he realized what he was asking her to compromise. Acting on his gesture and giving into the electricity of his warm touch heated her body with would’ve gone against every principle she ran her business with. But perhaps this wasn’t about business.
Collyn grabbed his hand and led him to the dance floor. Though she had on four-inch stilettos, he was still significantly taller than her.
Lady Saw’s “Chat to Mi Back” was playing and the dance floor was packed.
The tent was air-conditioned, yet the beat of the music and the dance movements made the cool air nonexistent. Collyn placed her arms around Bless’s neck and he rested his hands on her waist.
“You like to run, huh?” he asked her.
“What are you talking about?” Her dance moves proved that she was every bit West Indian as her hips whined with ease.
“You feeling the hell outta me and you runnin’ like crazy.”
She didn’t respond. Instead she turned around and whined onto his shaft. His hard dick was a perfect fit down the middle of her slit. As her hands practically touched the ground Bless couldn’t help but feel her luscious behind, and that’s when he discovered she didn’t have any panties on. He placed his hands beneath her dress and his middle finger slipped through her wetness. “Shit,” he said as his finger became slick.
Collyn stood up straight, turned around, sucked the candy off his fingertip, and resumed dancing. “I will let you know when it’s time to put your fingers there,” she said seductively.
“I wanna put more than my finger there.” Bless pulled her to him and her hips moved as if they were remote controlled by his large hands, which glided up and down the sides of her thighs. He buried his nose in the side of her neck, lightly kissing her collarbones, sucking her chin, moving on to her lips. Surprisingly, she didn’t stop him. Nor did she want to stop him, the magnetism of his touch seduced her into letting him finish.
As the music continued to play, Collyn found herself exhaling as Bless’s tongue traveled deeply into her mouth. Never had she been kissed like this. A kiss like this is what caused the fear of falling in love to either subside or come alive. Bless backed Collyn into a secluded corner of the tent and pulled her dress up. “Stop,” she said, while continuing to kiss him. “I’m not doing this.” She broke their lip-lock, her stiff nipples pressed against his chest.
“Ai’ight.” He forced himself to stop, his hard dick ready to bust. He took a few moments to calm down before he said anything. “So when I’ma see you again?”
“I think it’s best”—she straightened her dress—“if we don’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because…” She paused. “You’re…a client and that’s what’s best. We’ve already gone too far—”
“Really?”
“Yes. Really and—”
“Collyn—”
“—and I just think—”
“Beautiful,” he said with ease, “all that shit you sayin’, you don’t even believe it.” Bless reached in his side pocket, pulled out a Cuban cigar, lit it, and blew smoke from the side of his mouth.
“We can be friends, Bless,” she said.
“Friends?” He arched his eyebrows. “So we niggahs now?”
“I guess.”
“You guess? I was two seconds from fucking the shit outta you and you lookin’ at me and sayin’ we niggahs? That you my dude?”
“Exactly,” she said confidently. “I mean, if you can’t handle it, then that’s not my problem.”
“If you good, ma, then I’m good.”
“Ai’ight…so, straight.”
“Fa’ sho,” he said, ending the conversation, “but let me show you what I do with my boys.”
“What?”
He gave her a pound. “I’m out.” And he left her standing there.
The red numbers from the clock radio flashed 8:00 A.M. like breaking news across the middle of the bedroom’s three floor-to-ceiling windows as Kenyatta’s heavy eyes begged him to close them. For the last month, he’d been fighting to stay awake, doing his all to keep Eve’s dead body out of his dreams. If he slept, that image caused him to wake up every morning in a cold sweat, screaming.
He looked toward Monday, who was sound asleep, then eased out of the bed, grabbed his cell phone, and headed into the bathroom, where he called Tracy. “Tracy,” he whispered, peeking back at Monday before walking over to the bathroom window and looking out at the grounds, “did you find out anything?”
“Nothing,” Tracy said.
“Fuck!” Kenyatta snapped. “I need this shit taken care of. Every day I’m paranoid as hell.”
“We should have something soon. And I’ll call you when we do.”
“Please.” Kenyatta hung up, and when he turned around Monday was standing there. He jumped and dropped his phone on the floor. “What the fuck you sneaking up on me for?”
“Sneaking up on you?” Monday said, taken aback. “You’re the one walking around here all nervous and shit.”
“I don’t have anything to be nervous about.”
“I can’t tell. Kenyatta, why don’t you just tell me what’s going on with you? I promise I will understand. I will. Let’s just talk about this.”
Kenyatta stared at Monday. He thought about how he’d cheated on her a thousand times, had sideline babies, lied, borrowed the “I love you” line that he’d promised was only for her and spat it at bitches who didn’t mean shit. He knew this level of cheating had to be a disorder, perhaps something he’d been born with.
He’d always loved sex and would try mostly anything, which is why he embarked on the venture of paying for pussy, because he wanted to see if the ill na na was sweeter when it had a price than when it was free.
Kenyatta knew by the hurt lining Monday’s eyes that no matter how much of a lover, homie, and friend she wanted to be, she couldn’t handle the realness of it. “Monday, I’m not in the mood to be questioned.”
Monday sucked her teeth and stormed away.
Two hours later, after their morning showers, they were both dressed and back to their daily routine.
“What do you mean City Council vetoed my bill?” Kenyatta paced the floor and spat into the phone as Monday walked into his home office and s
tood in the doorway stunned. Her stomach tightened and she saw everything they’d worked for flash before her eyes. Kenyatta was on the phone, squinting his lips tight and taking steady pulls of weed while he discussed city business with his financial secretary.
“And what are you doing?” Monday plopped his leather briefcase on his desk. “Is there a secret desire to be Marion Barry?”
“Crack is whack,” he placed his hand over the receiver, “this is weed.” He took a pull and blew the smoke toward her face.
“You look ridiculous.” She peered at him, “You have to prepare for a meeting with City Council this morning and all you can think to do is get high? Am I even seeing this?” she raised her hands above her eyes like a sun visor, “Is this even for real?”
Kenyatta looked at the burning tip of weed and then stuck the opposite end back into his mouth. “Look I’m going through something right now.” He resumed his telephone conversation. “I understand what you’re saying Elijah, but I need that bill rewritten because this budget has to be passed. We told the superintendent that we would raise the budget for the existing schools and look into building new ones. This has to be passed.” He paused, took another pull, and said, “They don’t need to worry,” he blew smoke from the corner of his lips, “about the city’s budget. Look, just have the minutes from the meeting typed up and ready for me when I reach City Hall this morning.”
And as he hung up Monday said, “I just hope whatever bitch that has you losing it isn’t pregnant.” She picked up the Febreze and sprayed. “Put that away.” She fanned her hand.
“Excuse me,” the maid said as she stepped into his office. She noticed Kenyatta smoking weed and immediately stepped back out and knocked on the door frame, “May I…uhhh…come in?”
“Damn Mary.” Kenyatta said as if he’d just remembered she’d worked here. He hurriedly mashed the joint in the ashtray and sprayed Febreze all over himself and into the air. “Yeah, Mary,” he arched his back and popped a peppermint in his mouth. “Good morning. How are you?”
“Fine, sir, and yourself?”