by Keisha Ervin
“Fuck is on yo’ mind?” he shot with a deranged look in his eye.
“I’m sorry,” she sobbed.
“You sorry all right and you gon’ suck my dick!”
Q’s bottom lip trembled as she stared into Sean’s bloodshot eyes. The man she once knew was no longer there. He hadn’t been there in years. The monster who stood before her was what he’d become. She wanted to plead with him, but begging would only infuriate him more, so Q reluctantly took a hold of his dick and placed it in her mouth. The taste was bitter like salt as she bobbed her head back and forth.
“Ahh,” Sean moaned with his eyes closed and his hand on the back of her head.
Q knew in order to make him cum quick she would have to deep throat his dick. The only problem was Sean’s dick was so big it could barely fit into her mouth. Opening her mouth as wide as she could, Q eased his penis inch by inch past her tongue and to the back of her throat.
“Shit,” Sean groaned as his dick began to thump.
At any second he was sure to explode. Q hated the taste of cum. She most definitely didn’t want Sean cumming in her mouth so she tried to maneuver her way back, but Sean had such a tight grip on her head that she was unable to move or breathe.
“Fuck, I’m cumming,” he exclaimed, fucking her mouth like it was her pussy.
Q tried to push him off of her but to no avail; cum shot down the back of her throat. Unable to breathe and unwilling to swallow, she began to choke. Sean came down from his orgasmic high and noticed her turning blue. He quickly pulled his dick from her mouth. Q coughed repeatedly while spitting up his semen in her hands.
“Look at you.” Sean shook his head, revolted. “Go in the bathroom and clean ya’self up,” he ordered. “I want some pussy.”
Q wiped her mouth and got up. Everything in her wanted to haul off and punch the shit out of Sean, but that would only further escalate things. The last time she’d gotten enough courage to fight back she’d landed in the hospital with two broken ribs and a contusion on her forehead. In order to keep Sean’s reputation squeaky clean, his publicist had spun the story to make it seem like she’d been in a minor car accident. No, Q wouldn’t fight back. She’d continue to be the devoted wife she was until there was a way for her to break away from Sean for good.
Rays from the sun shone through the bamboo blinds and onto Q’s face like stripes as she opened her eyes. She’d barely gotten any sleep. Sean had her up half the night doing what he called making love. They’d had sex in every position imaginable. Sean was so crazed with jealousy that while hitting it from back, he slapped her hard on the ass and asked repeatedly if Grip liked it that way too. Q took his taunts in stride and willed herself not to cry.
It wasn’t fair that she was caught in the middle of a silly rap beef. Sean was her husband, and since day one she’d been his ride-or-die chick, but deep down inside she knew there was only so much more she could take. Sean’s abuse was getting worse as his coke habit escalated. Surprised not to hear him snoring loudly beside her, Q turned her head to his side of the bed and found it empty. She was shocked. Despite Sean’s rude remarks and sadistic ways, it kind of bothered her that he could’ve left without saying a word. In search of answers, Q got out of bed and put on her robe. To her surprise, as soon as she opened the door she spotted Ahsim sitting, reading the Post Dispatch newspaper.
Q was never one to be taken in by a pretty face and a smile, but Ahsim’s mocha-colored skin and kissable lips caused her heart to skip a beat. He was fly as hell and his swagger was just right. Ahsim stood six foot three inches tall. He was 195 pounds and built like a West Indian god. The low-cut Caesar with waves he rocked blended like water into his perfectly lined and trimmed beard. His eyes were chestnut brown and shaped like diamonds.
That morning, he had donned a blue and orange Mets cap cocked slightly to the left; a blue bubble vest; blue, black, and white plaid lumberjack flannel; dark denim jeans; and a pair of blue and cream Chuck Taylor–inspired Diesel sneakers. His whole existence was intoxicating and should’ve been illegal in all fifty states. When he stood up, his legs were slightly bowed. Q just knew that a chocolate python lay on the inside of his pants.
“What are you doing sittin’ outside my door?” she finally asked.
“My job,” he answered, never taking his eyes off the paper.
“My husband hired you to guard me, not stalk me.”
“Your husband hired me to keep an eye on you twenty-four hours of the day, so if you have a problem with that I suggest you take that up wit him.”
Q looked at Ahsim like he was crazy. His cocky attitude might’ve intimidated others but he had her all the way fucked up.
“Let me explain something to you.” She placed her hand on her hip and pointed her finger in his direction. “While you’re on staff you will respect me and if you can’t, I won’t wait until my husband comes back from tour. I will fire you my damn self. Now do you understand that?”
Ahsim focused his attention on her. Q had completely forgotten that she wore no bra. Her brown nipples were hard, and poked through the satin fabric of her robe. Liking what he saw, Ahsim simply hit her with a crooked grin, resumed reading the paper, and replied, “I got you, ma, but check it: you ain’t hire me so you can’t fire me. Ol’ boy don’t even give you that much power so don’t even flatter ya’self; and by the way, you might wanna cover ya’self up.”
Q glanced down and remembered that underneath her robe she wore nothing. Slightly embarrassed, she quickly folded her arms across her chest.
“Speaking of my husband,” she tried to continue as if nothing had happened, “have you seen him?”
“He left a couple of hours ago. What, you ain’t know?” Ahsim asked, shocked.
“If I did I wouldn’t have asked.” Q was obviously hurt.
When she and Sean were first married, he would’ve never left without saying good-bye. She cherished his kisses and hugs before he walked out the door, but now all of that was a distant memory.
“He did have the chef prepare you a really nice breakfast, though.” Ahsim tried to ease some of her pain.
“It’s good. Tell the chef I’m not hungry. If anybody needs me, I’ll be in my room getting dressed. You and I will be out for the rest of the day.”
Q and Ahsim quietly sat opposite each other in the back of a silver Phantom. Q, her eyes concealed by a pair of black Balenciaga shades, tried her best to pretend as if he didn’t exist. But the way his tongue toyed with the toothpick between his teeth only made her wonder what other kind of freaky tricks his tongue could do. The Jean Paul Gaultier cologne he wore wasn’t helping much, either. The scent was Q’s favorite. The song “Sex and Candy” instantly came to mind.
Crossing her legs tight, she closed her eyes and prayed that the erotic twitch in her clit and the forbidden thoughts in her mind would cease. Thankfully, the sound of a text message coming through on her phone helped distract her. Q flipped her cell phone open, saw who the sender was, and rolled her eyes. Not in the mood to talk, she shut her phone without replying. Ahsim noticed her reaction and took a mental note. Just as Q placed her phone in her bag, Ahsim’s cell phone began to ring. He checked the screen, saw who the caller was, and answered.
“Hello?”
“What’s going on?” Sean asked while inhaling smoke from a blunt.
“We’re heading downtown right now. Q wanted to do a little shopping.”
“That’s what’s up.” He exhaled the smoke from his lungs. “Let her buy whatever she wants.”
“Baby, hurry up and get off the phone.” Ahsim could hear a woman whine in the background.
“Is that my husband?” Q screwed up her face, pissed.
Ahsim stalled for a second, then answered, “Yeah.”
“Let me speak to him.” She reached out her hand.
“Uh—”
“What you mean uh? Hand me the phone!”
Ahsim remembered that he was there to do a job, not play mediator, so he obli
ged Q’s request without hesitation.
“Thank you,” she snapped, snatching the phone from him. “Hello?”
“What’s up, babe?” Sean wiped his nose.
He’d just finished doing a line of coke.
“So you mean to tell me you can call and check in wit’ a muthafucka we barely know and not with me, your wife?”
“Calm down. I was gon’ get at you later.”
“You was gon’ get at me later?” she repeated in disbelief. “Sean, you didn’t even say good-bye to me when you left. Anything could’a happened to you when you got on that plane.”
“But it didn’t,” he replied as the woman he was with kissed his neck. “I’m all right. You all right?”
“No, I’m not all right,” she snapped.
“Sean.” The woman stressed his name. “I want some dick.”
“Hold up! Who the fuck was that?” Q yelled, ready to explode.
“Yo . . . let me hit you later.” Sean eyes were at half-mast as the woman began to unzip his Yohji Yammamato Y-3 jeans.
“Sean, if you hang up this phone, I swear to God . . .”
“Q, chill out. I’ma call you in a minute; and answer the fuckin’ phone.”
“Sean!” Q shouted as he hung up. “I know this muthafucka didn’t!” She took the phone away from her ear and looked at it.
Embarrassed, hurt, and humiliated weren’t even the words to describe how she felt. Q wished that she had it in her to be on some ring-the-alarm shit, but her days of running in behind Sean and his latest mistress were over. She was tired of trying to prove herself worthy enough of his love. He would never see all things she kept locked inside her heart strictly for him. Q wasn’t willing to play the broken-hearted girl anymore.
Swallowing the lump that had crept up her throat, she kindly handed Ahsim his phone, and sat back. Ahsim wanted desperately not to feel any kind of emotion for her, but the single tear that slipped down her cheek made him want to take her off to a distant land, where love was like breathing and hurt and pain didn’t exist.
“You a’ight?” he asked, concerned.
“I’m fine.” Q quickly wiped her face, determined not to let another tear drop.
For a while, she gazed out the window silently as Ahsim pondered why she stayed in such a fucked-up relationship. Sensing what was on his mind, Q opened up and said, “Things weren’t always like this, you know. Sean used to be the sweetest man I ever knew, but once the money started rollin’ in, he changed. I’ve been tryin’ so hard to find my way back to the man he once was, but these days I don’t know if it’s possible.”
“Yo.” Ahsim looked at her. “I ain’t even tryin’ to get off into y’all relationship like that ’cause I ain’t no therapist and it ain’t none of my business but . . . can’t you see you the only one tryin’?”
“Well, that’s easier said then felt.”
“Chicks fuck me up.” He smirked.
“Chicks fuck you up and what?”
“It’s nothing.” He shook his head. “My fault, I shouldn’t have even said that.”
“It’s cool, we talkin’.” Q shrugged her shoulders with an attitude. “Say whatever it is you got to say. I’m grown, I can handle it.”
“A’ight,” Ahsim complied. “Y’all chicks will fight tooth and nail to hold on to a no-good muthafucka who treats like you shit. Make all the excuses for him in the world and he still got another chick suckin’ his dick; and where you at? Sittin’ in the car, cryin’.”
“Excuse you.” She snapped her neck, offended.
“No need for the pleasantries, ma, you excused. And if you catchin’ an attitude ’cause I hurt yo’ feelin’s then I’m sorry, but I’m just statin’ facts.”
“First of all, my name ain’t ma. It’s Queen and I haven’t given you permission to relax your standards. Second of all, you ain’t statin’ shit ’cause you don’t know what the fuck you talkin’ about.” Q leaned forward furious. “And I shouldn’t have ever asked your opinion. You ain’t spittin’ nothin’ but a bunch of hired-help bullshit . . . so do us both a favor; shut the fuck up, do your job, and guard something.”
“Check this, Queen,” Ahsim barked back. “I may be a guard, but I’m a man first and the man in me will not allow you to get away wit’ all the rah-rah you just spat. The next time you speak to me, speak to me with respect. Otherwise, don’t say shit. You so busy tellin’ me what to guard. How bout you guard yo’ heart, guard your emotions, guard you settling for less, and guard yo’ mouth,” Ahsim leaned close to her face.
Their lips were only inches apart.
“Now do you understand?”
Q rolled her eyes and leaned back against the seat. Pissed, she folded her arms across her chest. She would never admit it, but the reality was that everything Ahsim said was right. It ate her up inside. Instead of sticking up for herself, time and time again she excused Sean’s intentions and pretended that everything was okay. She was the only one trying, and what made it even worse was coming to the realization that she was the only one in love.
“Ralph,” she called out to the driver.
“Yes, ma’am.” He glanced at her through the rearview mirror.
“Turn the radio up. That’s my song.”
“Sure thing, ma’am.”
Ralph quickly turned up the volume. He hated to see Q upset. Ralph was willing to do anything within his power to make her happy. “Diva,” by Beyonce, thumped from the speakers, hyping Q up. Fuck all these niggas, she thought as she pulled out her Dior cosmetic mirror. Q was about to do her, and that meant hitting the stores and spending an obscene amount of money on shit she didn’t need. Ralph pulled up to the curb slowly. Once the car was parked, he got out and opened the coach doors.
Ahsim stepped out first to make sure their surroundings were safe, and to tell the store owner they were there.
After that was taken care of, Ralph signaled to Q that it was okay to step out. A light drizzle fell from the sky, but Ralph had everything covered. Before Q’s foot even hit the pavement he’d already pulled out one of the two umbrellas conveniently located in each of the rear doors. Not a single hair on her head would be out of place. All eyes were on Q. Men stopped mid-stride just to catch a glimpse of her thick thighs, while some women admired and others tuned up their faces. It didn’t matter. At that moment, she felt as if she were the superstar.
Dressed casually chic in a wife beater, gray stone-washed skinny jeans, and five-inch, black suede peep toe Christian Louboutin ankle boots, Q knew she was the bitch. Her hair was pulled back in a sleek ponytail. She wore no makeup, a pair of diamond stud earrings, her wedding ring, and a black patent leather Valentino purse with rosettes on the front.
Q ignored the onlookers and made her way through the doors. City Chic Boutique was one of her favorite stores in the Delmar Loop. She especially loved that it was black-owned, and it didn’t hurt that the owner, Renee, was pretty nice, too. It didn’t matter what time of the day it was she would always shut down the store for Q so she could shop by herself.
“How are you miss?” Tabitha hugged her and air-kissed both cheeks. “You look nice as always, and the boots are sick.”
“Thank you, girl. Love the top.” Q stepped back and appreciated the shirt Tabitha wore. “Please tell me it’s one of your own.”
“And you know it. Kaycee,” Tabitha called out to one of her employees.
“Yes.”
“Show Q where this top is. I have to make a phone call.” Tabitha turned back to Q. “Let me know if you need anything.”
“I will. Thanks, Tabitha.”
“Look at you lookin’ fly.” Kaycee smiled as she escorted Q to the shirt rack.
“Thank you. I just threw on something today.”
“I feel you, girl. I did too, but tell me; who is that fine-ass nigga you got wit’ you?” Kaycee pointed.
Q glanced over her shoulder at Ahsim. He stood by the door in a b-boy stance still toying with the toothpick in his mouth. It fucked
her up that he didn’t try to hide the fact that he was admiring her frame from behind.
“That’s Ahsim, my new bodyguard.”
“I know you’re happy. Shit, he can guard me any day.” Kaycee licked her lips and blew him a kiss.
“Kaycee, please.” Q rolled her eyes. “I am a married woman.”
“Well, I’m single, horny as hell, and ready to fuck, so please give him my number. As a matter of fact, I think I’ll do it myself.”
With her shoulders pulled back, Kaycee switched over to Ahsim and sparked up a conversation. Q pretended not to care as she roamed the racks and shelves of clothes, but the thought of Ahsim being interested in someone other then her tortured her pride. Jealous, Q snuck a glance from the corner of her eye. Ahsim smiled as Kaycee placed her hand on his arm. Q loathed the fact that staring at him alone ignited a fire inside her heart that only he could put out. Spotting Kaycee coming her way, she swiftly turned her head.
“Homeboy is a winner for real,” she announced gleefully.
“That’s what’s up,” Q replied dryly. “You get his number?”
“Yeah, and I will be callin’ him tonight.”
“Good for you. Now, come on and ring me out. I got some other places I need to go.”
In less then fifteen minutes, Q racked up $5,000 worth of merchandise. Half of the stuff she hadn’t even really looked at. Fuck the recession , Q thought. Tabitha was ecstatic. Q tried her best to hide her attitude, but it was useless. She couldn’t get a grasp on what kind of game Ahsim was playing, but she for damn sure was going to find out. Their next stop was a lingerie store called Soma Intimates. Once again, the owner loved Q so much that he was willing to close the store just for her.
As soon as she entered she was offered a complimentary glass of Dom and strawberries. Q drank the entire glass in one gulp. With a fresh glass in hand she went into the dressing room. Five pieces of lingerie and heels had already been picked out for her. Q stripped down and tried on the first one. It was a dusty blue, pleated, satin teddy with an elastic waist and lace trim. The teddy was made like a jumper. The panty part highlighted her voluptuous ass perfectly. She just had to know if Ahsim liked it, too.