Darius coughed, then said, “We need more mints.” Candid conversation often flowed when his mother wasn’t present. His mother strongly believed in equal rights and pay for women, and if she’d heard his comment, a long sermon over family dinner was mandatory. He was the only man ever hired to work internally for Black Diamonds, so he had to represent his brothers. Darius couldn’t lie; the women did have their act together, but he’d never openly admit it, especially not to Zen. The bottom line was they needed more testosterone, and as soon as he got a controlling position, manes and tails would fly out the door, window; it didn’t matter how they left as long as they got out of his firm.
Observing his mother, Darius never could figure out why his parents hadn’t stayed together. They seemed to get along better than most married couples. His mother said she loved his father, and he confessed the same. Yet, they aggravated him by living apart. As a child, he had prayed daily for his family to reunite. Whenever he questioned his mother, she’d say, “Because we wanted to give you the best we had to offer. And that meant going our separate ways, sweetie. One day you’ll understand.” Which day? Hell, today he made the big two-oh.
No mention of a celebration from either of his parents was unusual. No vacation package. No gifts. My Dear had called him this morning, and all she’d said was she might not make it to L.A. this weekend. Well, if they were planning something, they had better speak now or forget about it. Kimberly was his appetizer, and Maxine Moore, dessert. Ashlee, who had earned the honor as his very best friend because—even though she was the top person on her high school debate team in Texas—she refused to compete with him, hadn’t called either.
Maxine had become Darius’s fiancée a year ago, because she always placed him upon a pedestal. In this confused world, a black man needed a woman to uplift him. Plus, she was perfect marrying material. Black and beautiful just like his mother. Ladylike. Soft-spoken. Maxine was the one woman who blew up his cellular phone three times a day, but so far he hadn’t heard from her once. His mother never forgot. She was as proud of him as he was of her. Darius watched the smile on his mother’s face as she spoke.
“Good morning. Did everyone have a fantastic workout?” Jada asked as she sat at the head of the table. Jada strongly encouraged them all to fully utilize their corporate-sponsored fitness memberships. Since exercise stimulated the brain, she said the earlier they hit the gym, the better. A yes response was received from all, except Darius. He simply alternated flexing his chest muscles underneath his Brian McKinney designer suit.
Ginger Browne pretended she wasn’t watching. She loved his body, and he couldn’t resist hers. Scrutinizing his coworkers, he recalled how each of them had seduced him as soon as he turned eighteen, because they believed he’d convince his mother to promote them to vice president. Claiming her mouse was stuck, Ginger had solicited help with her computer and motioned for him to come into her office. Quite taken with Ginger’s womanly features and refusing to appear inexperienced, he had gone.
Loose satin curls that curved under only at the end never touched Ginger’s shoulders or covered her ears. Small opalstud earrings complemented her clean, fresh face. Her only makeup, brown spice lipstick. As Ginger’s hands roamed, she said, “You’re an adult now, Darius. You don’t need anybody’s permission.” Ginger’s luscious lips grazed his. As they held her mouse, he froze like the mime at Venice Beach. She positioned her lips less than an inch away from his. Darius heard himself breathing. Then Ginger whispered, “Kiss me. You know you want to.” So he did. The first kiss of an older African-American woman practically caused a volcanic eruption. That was the best lip locking he’d ever done.
Unlike Miranda, Heather, and Zen, Ginger was divorced. Twice. Two men had played tug-of-war with Ginger for as long as Darius could remember. Her ex-husbands? Forget those amateurs. Darius wanted more, and Ginger gave it to him. His body heat turned up, and his blue cotton sweatpants plunged frontward. Just when his dick became rock solid, Ginger cut him off, but not before her hand squeezed and sized him up. Her smile was all the approval he needed. “Come over to my house. Tonight. Seven o’clock sharp and don’t be late.”
She was thirty-three then, but thirty-five now, and still a pro.
“Excellent!” Jada said. She was so perky he couldn’t gauge his mother’s real mood. “We have several agenda topics to cover. The first being one not on the list.” Jada smiled at Darius. He shifted his eyes to the right as though he were a kid again.
No surprise, just pleasant. There sat Miranda Gonzalez, the finest Latino in all of California and south of the border. Her approach had been different from Ginger’s, but her timing was the same. Miranda frequently brought him home-cooked meals. Since she had four children and a husband, it wasn’t as if she went out of her way. Contrary to Ginger, sex in the office was acceptable for Miranda. Two big titties sat at attention with or without a bra. Miranda always wore low-cut everything. Tops. Sweaters. Dresses. One day she called him into her office:
“Close the door. I have something for you.” Her tone aroused him, so he obliged her, anxiously desiring to finally see the boobs he’d drooled over for thirteen years.
Miranda seated him behind her desk. Removing the blue lid from the Tupperware container, she fed him. “You must promise not to tell. Okay?” Darius nodded. The remaining sour cream and taco sauce clung to Miranda’s finger. Slowly. Meticulously. Miranda’s finger disappeared into Darius’s mouth. Impatient to try the new skills Ginger had taught him, he sucked her clean. Before he finished, Miranda buried his face in her bosom. The next thing Darius knew his penis was joyfully sliding between her twins. If Miranda ever got lost, the missing persons’ bureau would have to show a photo of her breasts. As beautiful as Miranda was, Darius doubted anyone—man or woman—noticed her face first.
“I have a special announcement to make.” Everyone sat up straighter and moved in closer. Jada smiled again and continued focusing on Darius. “This coming Monday, Darius Henry Jones will assume the positions of corporate executive officer and senior vice president.” Jada had spent twenty years hiding the truth from Darius and she still couldn’t confess. Promoting Darius was the best way she could keep him from returning to school at Georgetown.
Hell, yeah! It was about time. “Whoa! Thanks!” Wanting to do somersaults, he resisted. Darius beamed brighter than the day he had received his first car—a metallic gold Escalade. Sporting his Cadillac, he had instantly become the most sought after guy in high school. All the females had gawked as if he were a celebrity. The fellas had been envious. Darius would bet money that each of his coworkers was resentful.
If Darius were handing out awards for assuming positions, Heather Hartzford would have topped his list. Heather’s mouth was her greatest asset. Articulate. Sharp. Yes, she was attractive, married to an African-American, and wasn’t afraid to play race to her advantage. He remembered back to their first time.
Boldly, she asked, “Have you ever made love to a white woman?” If woman was the operative word, then the answer was no, since the twin girls were seventeen at that time. Darius played along with Heather, wondering how she’d compare to Miranda and Ginger. In a class of her own, she didn’t. Her approach was straightforward. She offered a blow job, and he accepted. Heather’s collagen-filled lips swallowed all eight inches, causing his bodily fluids to vanish without a trace.
Four of his mother’s division directors had earned international notoriety. Promoting him to such prestigious levels was brilliant, but Darius also wanted his birthday gifts. In order to avoid jealousy and controversy over promotions, clearly she had to light his torch. If the women weren’t so preoccupied with trying to persuade him to put in a good word for them, they would have seen his promotion coming. Fortunately, his mother didn’t take sides with his father’s delaying his well-deserved advancement. Any one of his subordinates could name their price and Black Diamonds’ competitors would hire them on the spot, especially Zen Chin.
Zen was five feet
, one inch, Asian, and worth her weight in platinum. Aggressive. Confident. Overachiever. Merely getting the job done wasn’t enough. Darius didn’t know where she found the time or energy. Married. Three kids. Fifty. Zen never lingered. In. Out. That was her style with her clients and with him.
During their first encounter, Zen’s hands massaged his neck, shoulders, back, ass, and hard-on in ten minutes tops. “You cum too fast. Next time you go slower.” Orgasm timing was one thing Zen eventually made him master. His entire being—mind, body, and soul—was so relaxed he didn’t move well after Zen had left her office. The family picture on Zen’s desk stared at him, so he placed it facedown.
Dressed in an earth-tone leisure suit, Jada’s assistant, Shannon, quietly entered the room. Shannon’s hair was combed into two afropuffs—one on each side. Her style was cool. Shannon was fly but not his type. The number one rule of “Darius’s Law” was never gamble with anyone who had nothing to lose, so each of his women had intangible valuables as well as monetary wealth. Maxine’s parents owned several floral shops around the country, so that made her legit.
“Mrs. Tanner,” Shannon bent over Jada’s shoulder and said, “excuse me for the interruption. Ms. Ruby is on line one.” Shannon’s whisper was the volume most people spoke normally. Darius knew his mother wouldn’t keep My Dear waiting. Why hadn’t My Dear phoned him instead?
“Thanks, Shannon.” Jada’s hazel-colored eyes gazed in his direction. “Darius, take over until I return.”
Great. Now he could strong-arm his staff. Maintaining eye contact, his bodybuilding physique rose simultaneously as he strolled to the head of the asymmetrically shaped table. Darius stood adjacent to his mother, flashed a million-dollar smile, and softly stroked his well-trimmed mustache and his irresistibly thick, milk-chocolate lips. Darius slid into his mother’s seat and firmly said, “Black Diamonds’ Fifteenth Annual International Cultural Convention will be held in Manhattan exactly three months from today.” His pointing finger bounced on and off the desk four times for emphasis.
The corners of Jada’s mouth partially spread while her coffee-colored lips pressed together to conceal her smirk. Her eyes glistened as she watched in amazement, then exited through her private door.
Focusing directly on Miranda’s forehead, Darius said, “Miranda, I need your updated status report on the Mexican, Latino, Panamanian, and Puerto Rican participants ready for posting to the website by eight o’clock Monday morning.” As Darius turned to Zen, he stared dead center at her nose and said, “Zen, let’s review your budgeted expenditures for the Asian, Chinese, Japanese, and Korean telecommunications requirements . . .” As Darius spoke, he made contact with Ginger’s temples and Heather’s eyebrows.
Variety had always spiced his life, so why should his sex life be any different? Why did women falsely accuse him of cheating when they were the perfectionists of seduction? Like vultures, those females swarmed, waited, and then practically raped him as often as he permitted. Why did he crave sex every day like it was food? Was that normal? Not even My Dear could help him if his mother ever found out about his dealings. That would unquestionably be the day he’d die or wish he were dead.
He smiled softly, knowing it secretly turned his women on. Sex had become an academic sport. At least, that was what he learned while in high school and college. Emotions were for nerds who had sugar in their tanks, like his foe, Rodney Banks. Once Darius’s heart was involved, he was vulnerable to losing control, and by no means would he allow that to happen. Only weak men relinquished their power. Maxine was the only exception to Darius’s law, because she’d never hurt him. And he would love her as long as she allowed him to dominate their relationship.
After dictating for half an hour, Darius peeked his head into his mom’s office. “Ma. Is everything all right?” Darius whispered, since his mother never left a meeting for more than five minutes.
Mama answered, “Yes, baby,” and her entire face smiled back at him.
When Jada stepped back into the room, Darius immediately relocated to his seat. Everyone was so silent, Darius heard air blowing through the vents.
“Darius, I need you to accompany our potential client, Mr. Barnes, on his business stops today. Shannon has his schedule.”
Damn. Why now? Mom knew he hated receiving a special assignment during an important meeting. Jada nodded, so he squared his shoulders and silently exited. Those bitches had better not say a word about what just happened.
Chapter 17
After leaving work on his birthday, Darius dropped off Mr. Barnes and picked up his friend Kimberly Stokes. She was the type of woman who didn’t care if he phoned her the day after having sex or a month later. When he’d called her yesterday morning, she was en route to work.
“Hey, Kimberly. What’s up?” Darius used her whole name because Kimberly hated when people called her Kim. The first time he shortened her name, Kimberly had politely said, “If you’re too lazy to use the name my mother gave me, then don’t call me again.”
“Darius, baby, what’s up? I miss you, dawg.”
If a woman called a man a dog long enough, eventually he’d bark. Why was Darius really marrying Maxine? Better yet, why was Maxine marrying him? She knew he wasn’t faithful. The only commitment he’d ever kept was sitting courtside at the Lakers’ home games.
Although dog sounded sweet coming from Kimberly, Darius knew she had the 411 on his modus operandi. Having pledged Omega, he was a pure breed in more ways than one and had the brand on his left arm to prove it. But Kimberly didn’t trip, and that was what made her special. “Let’s hook up for a few hours for my birthday tomorrow. I’ll pick you up at five.”
“Sounds like a plan. Now, you know I’m going to use your credit card and shop my ass off today.” Kimberly had laughed.
“That’s my girl. See ya tomorrow.” Darius hung up the phone. Kimberly was generally upbeat and ready to go with a moment’s notice. If more women were like Kimberly, he’d be happier. Hell, they would, too. He didn’t mind wining and dining ladies, but he refused to pay for headaches when he got that crap for free. Willingly, he paid the monthly maximum on the platinum VISA account he’d opened in Kimberly’s name, because she kept him satisfied.
As he parked in front of his condo now, his cell phone vibrated. Looking at the display, he answered, “Hi, Mom.”
“Darius, where are you, sweetheart? I need you to stop by the house ASAP.”
Darius pulled his keys out of the ignition. “Can’t it wait until tomorrow?”
“No, it cannot,” she said firmly.
Picturing the expression on his mother’s face, Darius restarted his engine and said, “Fine, I’ll see you in a minute, but I have plans, so I can’t stay.” His mother lived on the same block, and they could have walked, but Darius didn’t waste any time since he had made plans with Maxine later that night.
“Thank you, sweetie.”
He heard the smile in her response. His mom was a trip. As long as she had her way, she was happy as hell. But when she didn’t, and things went his way, she made him feel guilty. Darius noticed she did the same with Lawrence and Wellington. Hanging up, he said to Kimberly, “I have to zip by my mom’s, but we won’t be there long.” Finally, somebody remembered it was his birthday.
“Cool.” Kimberly refastened her seat belt.
Zipping into the driveway, Darius parked and opened Kimberly’s door. Entering their home, he heard his mother call from the banquet room.
“Darius. I’m in here, darling.”
He didn’t want Kimberly standing in the spacious white marbled foyer alone, so he motioned for her to follow. Click. Click. Click. Kimberly’s red stilettos tapped on the tiles and dissipated into the carpet. Darius peeped his head into the dark room. “Mom?”
As the lights came on, everyone yelled, “Surprise!”
Oh, shit! Michael Jackson didn’t have brighter lights during the Pepsi commercial when his hair caught on fire; Darius wanted to shift into reverse and moon
walk his ass back out the door. Like a vampire exposed to the sun, Darius covered his face and stood in the doorway. Slowly, he placed his hands by his sides. His head remained motionless as he viewed the well-known faces. Unfortunately, he knew too many of them intimately.
Maxine was dressed in a black strapless minidress. Savvy haircut. She must have gotten that done today. The style resembled the singer Eve’s, but he was pleased she hadn’t changed her natural black color, because that would have required a trip back to the salon. Maxine was outright edible. Her sensuous expression vanished when Kimberly stepped beside him and smiled as if the surprise were intended for her. Maxine clinched her teeth and stretched her cocoa brown, succulent lips so far Darius saw doubles. Thinking of which, two fingers of cognac would surely help right about now. Maxine’s eyes bulged and squinted at the same time as if to say, “Your ass had better be able to explain!” If looks could kill, he’d be in transit to ICU. But God must have blessed him with nine lives. Seven of which he’d already used. So at the speed of light, Darius closed his eyes and prayed for nine more.
Kimberly stood five feet, four inches. Slender and completely nude under a red leather coat that scarcely covered her voluptuous ass. Ah man, he hadn’t even licked her marshmallow nipples or seen the new strip dance she’d created as his gift. Darius had serious plans to finish what Kimberly had started while he drove on the freeway. An erection stirred in his pants just thinking about her pierced tongue. She’d seriously made him consider pulling over to side of the road. Now he wished he had an emergency exit lane to aid in his escape. Kimberly hid her body behind his and wrapped her arms around his waist. Electric sliding, Darius glided forward and broke Kimberly’s grip.
Walking over to Maxine, he said, “Hey, boo,” and quickly moved on before her mouth caught up with her wanting-to-destroy-him attitude.
The décor was on the mark. Wild magnolias were his favorite, and they were beautifully arranged throughout the room. If only he could lay Kimberly across the dessert table between the peach cobbler and chocolate mousse, he’d be satisfied for the moment.
Never Again Once More Page 12