Nothing Has Ever Felt Like This

by Mary B. Morrison

  “Darius, Jones!” Ciara’s arms swung spastically above her stomach. “How do you keep getting into my office without my permission?”

  Biting his bottom lip with a half smile, Darius replied, “Now, if I told you that, I couldn’t get in anymore.” Darius grinned at Ciara. “Look, I came by to congratulate you on the premiere tonight but I see Kimberly beat me to it. Just in case the baby is mine, I think we need to have a decent relationship. And to simplify things, you need to sign these divorce papers.” Darius handed Ciara a yellow envelope.

  Tossing the package on the coffee table, Ciara firmly said, “Leave them with me. I’ll give them to my attorney. After the baby is born, I’ll make that decision.”

  “Ciara, I’ve met someone else.” Darius picked up the package and handed it to Ciara again. “I love her and I don’t want to make a full commitment to her until I bring closure to our relationship.”

  “I know. Fancy Taylor. Realtor. She lives in Oakland on Lake Merritt. She’s cute. Young. More your speed. I couldn’t care less what the hell you do with your little playmate but I say when we get divorced. Right now you’re worthless,” Ciara said, slapping the package from Darius’s hand. “You’re a liability not an asset. I’m waiting to see if my stock will increase if you go pro. If you stay broke, trust me, you won’t have to ask me to sign those papers again. Now get out of my office.”

  Ripping the magazine into four uneven sections, Darius tossed the loose pages toward Ciara. “When are you going to stop, Ciara? Huh? When? You dyke!” Darius’s fingers locked around Ciara’s arms. Thrusting her back and forth Darius continued, yelling, “You dyke. Sign those goddamn papers! I don’t want to be married to you another minute!”

  “Darius, are you crazy? Let me go! You’re pissed because you can’t finish what the fuck you’ve started! Who’s the dyke now, Darius?” Ciara yelled louder, toward her office.

  When Darius turned to see if Kimberly heard them, Ciara whirled her arm into a circle, broke loose, slapped Darius hard across his face, and then yelled, “Kimberly, call the police!”

  Kimberly raced out of Ciara’s office, wiping the moisture from her mouth. “Let her go!” Kimberly yelled, racing back into Ciara’s office.

  “You will sign these papers,” Darius grunted, releasing one of Ciara’s arms then reaching for the fake jewel pen on the secretary’s counter. The same damn pen Ciara had used to get his attention the first time they’d met at a meeting, claiming it was a family jewel worth ten thousand dollars. Darius should’ve left that imitation pen on the conference table. But no, Ciara had gotten the contract Darius should’ve been awarded for Soul Mates Dissipate so the only way for him to steal the contract from Ciara was to marry her. Big mistake. Darius could’ve stolen the contract without committing to Ciara. Narrowing his eyes, Darius said, “Don’t you ever hit me again.” Then, in disgust, he shoved Ciara toward the sofa.

  Darius’s eyes widened as Ciara’s feet slid from under her watermelon-sized belly. He tried to catch Ciara before the back of her head hit the sharp edge of the coffee table but their hands missed the connection. He’d meant for Ciara to land on the sofa. As she lay unconscious in an expanding puddle of blood, Darius froze. His body trembled with fear. He whispered, “Get up, Ciara. I’m so sorry.”

  Barging out of Ciara’s office, Kimberly said, “I—what have you done to her?” Then kneeling over Ciara, she screamed. “Nooooooo!”

  “I didn’t do anything to her. And what were you doing in her office that you didn’t come out here until she called your name?”

  “You wanted me to come out and get caught up in some more of your wrongdoings? Please, I’ve already witnessed too much. You’d better pray she’s not dead,” Kimberly said, holding Ciara’s bloody head in her lap.

  Ciara’s body was lifeless.

  “You didn’t see shit! She slipped. It wasn’t my fault! I swear it wasn’t my fault. I didn’t touch her.” When Darius heard the long, piercing, familiar sound of sirens, he raced out of Ciara’s office, down the stairway to avoid the possibility of running into the police, got in his car, and drove away.

  Six hours later Darius was sitting in his Bentley in front of Fancy’s place in Oakland. Darius needed to talk to Fancy but hadn’t called so he’d tried bribing Mr. Cabie with a hundred-dollar bill to let him go up to Fancy’s condo without calling.

  Mr. Cabie refused, simultaneously dialing Fancy’s number. “Miss Taylor, Mr. Darius Jones is here to see you. Uh-huh. Okay. Sure thing, Miss Taylor,” Mr. Cabie said, hanging up. “Miss Taylor said to park across the street and wait fifteen minutes in your car.”

  “This is bullshit! What man is up there that she has to ask me to wait fifteen minutes so she can get rid of him before I go up?”

  “I can’t answer that question, sir.”

  When Mr. Cabie didn’t say, “Sorry, sir,” Darius figured some other man was seeing his woman. Darius glanced down the street for one of Byron’s cars. Quite a few Jaguars and Mercedes were parked along Lakeside. The lights were on and a function was in progress at the Scottish Rite Temple so Darius couldn’t identify any of the vehicles. Darius got in his car, started the engine, and then looked upstairs at Fancy’s balcony.

  Ladycat was on the balcony dressed in stilettos, a thong, and a red sheer negligee. Slowly she danced, teasing her body. Squeezing her breasts. Cupping her clit. Rubbing her thighs. Fancy turned around and slid the negligee over her cheeks. Taking a dildo, Ladycat eased the head of it into her mouth, licked the black dick like a lollipop, then slid it down the front of the thong. Hanging one leg over the rail, Ladycat humped that hard stick of rubber like it was the real thing. Darius wasn’t sure how much more he could watch without assisting. His heart pounded against his chest when Fancy moved her thong aside and penetrated her asshole.

  “Aw, fuck.” Slugger definitely wanted to participate. Darius unzipped his pants and popped out his ridiculously swollen dick. He started stroking himself. Ladycat shook her head then curled her pointing finger. Crossing the street, zipping his pants, Darius was damn near run over twice but didn’t care.

  Mr. Cabie signaled Darius to keep going. When the elevator door opened, Ladycat was waiting in the hallway with one heel on the carpeted floor and the other braced upon the decorative table. Her legs gaped wide. Darius could smell the memorable honey sweetness of her pussy.

  “Let’s go inside,” Darius whispered.

  “No, I want you right here.”

  “What about your neighbors?”

  “Who cares. Fuck me, Darius. Right here,” Fancy urged, unbuckling his pants. She sucked his dick so good Darius came twice in the hallway. Once they were inside her apartment, Darius buried his face in Fancy’s pussy and inhaled deeply. Slow, long, sticky licks pleased his palate. He smothered Miss Kitty with kisses until Fancy’s body stopped quivering.

  Rolling onto her stomach, Ladycat spread her cheeks and said, “You can put him here,” pressing her finger against her asshole.

  Darius wanted to ask if she was sure, but he didn’t want her to change her mind so he quickly put on a condom and penetrated her from behind. Gently he entered her rectum; reaching his hand around her hip, he massaged her clitoris. His eyes rolled to the back of his head as he came again.

  Darius was drained. Exhausted. He stumbled to the bathroom, flushed the condom, showered, and returned to bed. Holding Fancy in his arms, he said, “I want you to move to Los Angeles.”

  Softly Fancy replied, “I can’t. My client base is here in Oakland. But I will visit often.”

  “Yeah, like you visit Byron.”

  Sighing, Fancy looked at him and said, “Darius, don’t do this to us again. Can’t you just be happy and appreciate the beautiful time we just shared together?”

  Darius wanted to tell Fancy about Ciara but couldn’t. Now Darius feared the police were after him. He needed an alibi and safe haven to hide in, otherwise he wouldn’t have left L.A. But Fancy was right. Darius didn’t want to spoil their incredible m
oment. Without saying another word, Darius turned his back to Fancy, pulled the covers up to his neck, curled into a fetal position, and went to sleep hoping he wouldn’t hear any sirens in the night.

  CHAPTER 20

  Lying in bed next to Darius, Fancy suffered from insomnia. Fancy tossed so much she couldn’t sleep. The digital clock projecting on her ceiling read two-thirty. Fancy closed her eyes, trying to force herself to fall asleep. Opening her eyes to look at the ceiling, the time was now two thirty-five. Seemed liked a half hour had passed. Who was dumping trash down the garbage chute this time of the morning? Fancy thought listening to the familiar sound coming from her back room.

  Darius slept. Turning and ruffling the covers, he mumbled, “It wasn’t my fault.” First his legs stretched from the head to the foot of her bed. Then he curled into a ball. Then he mumbled some more. What was wrong with him?

  What was his problem? Darius had acted strange the entire night, abruptly asking her to relocate. Darius was too arrogant to be insecure but his actions dictated otherwise. He kept curling into a fetal position and apologizing to someone in his sleep. Dreams were never what they appeared so someone could’ve been apologizing to Darius. Maybe his mother.

  Fancy’s imagination worked overtime, trying to decode what was going through Darius’s mind as he restlessly slept with his back to her. Finally easing her naked body from under the covers, Fancy crept to the bathroom, trying not to awaken Darius so she could hear if there was something more important Darius would say in his sleep after she returned.

  Vigorously brushing her teeth, Fancy rinsed her mouth, leaned over her vanity, closed her eyes, and splashed cool water on her face. Opening her eyes, Fancy’s lips spread wide, exposing her tongue to scream when a masked man appeared in the mirror behind her. Was she dreaming?

  Swiftly, his long thick fingers covered her mouth and nose. “Scream and I’ll shoot you.”

  Fancy mumbled, flapping her tongue against his palm, “Take whatever you want. Please don’t hurt me.”

  “Shut up, bitch,” he grumbled, pressing his hand tighter to her face.

  The excruciating pain silenced Fancy, numbing her face. All the techniques Mr. Riddle taught her in self-defense escaped her. What did he want? Why hadn’t Fancy listened to Denise? Was it Mr. Drexel?

  Think, Fancy. Think. On the verge of crying, Fancy couldn’t focus with the cold steel pressing hard against her spine. This was a time when having body fat would’ve helped. Tears traveled down her face. One behind the other. What if he pulled the trigger? Intentionally or accidentally?

  “Shut up.” He shoved the cold gun deeper into Fancy’s side, then placed the barrel against her temple as he removed his mask, dropping it to the floor.

  With her mouth uncovered, that was Fancy’s chance to yell for Darius. Her mouth opened wide, but the screaming inside her head never escaped her lips.

  Quickly he covered her mouth again and said, “Do you remember me?”

  “Mr. Drexel. Why?” Tears poured again. Then Fancy remembered Mr. Riddle had instructed her to stay calm and remember as many details as possible. Gradually Fancy stopped crying, noticing the diamond wedding band was not on his pinky finger.

  “Look closer, bitch. Picture me without hair. Without a mustache. Picture me fat and out of shape.”

  Fancy photo-snapped his face in her mind, constantly shaking her head. Who was he?

  Then Mr. Drexel said, “Why didn’t you visit me in prison?”

  Watching her eyes enlarge in the mirror, Fancy shut them tight. It was her father. But why? Through closed eyelids, Fancy began crying again, wishing she was dead. Caroline had no idea how she’d ruined Fancy’s life. Why hadn’t Fancy asked her father’s last name or told her mother by name who’d stolen her car and purse? Or was Drexel his real last name? Fancy didn’t know.

  “Oh, don’t cry now, princess. Save those tears because you are about to know exactly what it feels like to get fucked in your ass. You know what they do to men who go to prison for rape? I’ma show you. Let’s go.”

  “Daddy, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know. Honestly, I made a mistake.” The words were only in her head because her mouth was still covered. Maybe Fancy shouldn’t fight him. She didn’t deserve to live after taking away his freedom.

  Where was Thaddeus taking her? He couldn’t get out of her building without being seen by someone. Fancy swiped all the unlit glass candles from her vanity, sending them crashing to the floor hoping to awaken Darius. The crackling noise was barely loud enough for Fancy to have heard. How stupid to have carpet in the bathroom.

  Fancy’s father led her into her extra bedroom, which she’d converted into a closet, and then quietly closed the door. Strip! The duct tape ripped from the roll. Thaddeus gnawed the edge with his teeth while holding the gun. He covered her mouth, bound her wrists together behind her back, and then partnered her ankles so tight the bones crunched together. Fancy panicked. The words “You’re hurting me” lingered in her mind. In that moment, Fancy heard, “Most people hope to pass. You are determined not to fail.” But how was Fancy going to escape alive?

  “You sure are pretty,” Thaddeus said, shoving his tongue inside her ear. “You’ve always been pretty. Fancy, I told your mother to abort you, but no. Her dumb ass took my money, went to the abortion clinic while I sat outside in my car waiting for her, then six months later when it was too late to kill you, she tells me she didn’t do it. She couldn’t do it. Well, consider yourself lucky because you should’ve been dead a long time ago. But be sure that tonight I am going to kill you. Oh yeah, you never told me how your mother was doing. Don’t worry. I’ll kill her lying ass tomorrow. You’re all her fault. But you sure are pretty. It’s been ten years since I’ve had a real woman.” His clammy hands fondled Fancy’s breasts as she lay helpless like a mummy. Thaddeus sucked on her nipples while removing his dick from his slacks.

  My God, he’s really going to rape me, Fancy thought, closing her eyes.

  “Don’t close your eyes,” he whispered, “I want you to remember me from your grave.” Then Thaddeus rolled Fancy over, facedown, and straddled her. Fancy felt his cold stiff erection penetrating her cheeks. Ramming his dick into her butt, Thaddeus grunted, “Uuuhhhhhh.”

  A silent scream was trapped behind Fancy’s sealed lips when Thaddeus’s dick hit her pelvis bone and slid up the crack of her ass onto her back. He’d missed. God, please help me. I promise to go back to church. Then Fancy heard, If you don’t do anything else I ask you, take a self-defense class. Your life is dependent upon it. The homeless woman’s voice echoed in her mind. Fight, Fancy! Fight!

  Thaddeus lifted his pelvis. When Fancy felt the head of his penis circling her asshole, swiftly she sprang to her feet, blocking his thrust. She locked his nuts between her feet and dug her toenails deep into his flesh, trying to disconnect his balls.

  “Bitch!” Thaddeus yelled, grabbing himself.

  Fancy kicked backward like a donkey, knocking Thaddeus to the floor. Maximizing the strength in her legs, Fancy stood. Whirling about the room using her shoulders, Fancy forced every designer rack in the room on top of Thaddeus then rammed her shoulder into the door repeatedly. Turning backward in attempt to unlock the door, Fancy heard Darius yell from outside the door, “Fancy! What’s going on?!”

  Fancy rammed her shoulder into the door harder and harder, mumbling, “Help!”

  Darius turned the knob. “Move out of the way!” he yelled.

  Thaddeus stood. Some of Fancy’s best clothes hung from his body. “I’ma kill you, you little bitch! Where’s my gun?” He scrambled underneath the clothes and scattered racks on the floor. “This time I’m going to have a real reason to go to prison.”

  The door flung open. Darius froze standing naked in the doorway with his arm extended and his gun pointed at Thaddeus’s chest. Thaddeus pointed his gun at Fancy then at Darius. Darius froze as Thaddeus pointed the gun.

  Who or what are you willing to die for? echoed in Fancy’s mind. Clo
sing her eyes, Fancy stepped in front of Darius.

  “I love you, Daddy. I love you, Darius.”

  Pow! Pow! Two shots in the dark. Both to the heart.

  CHAPTER 21

  Somebody’s Gotta Be On Top’s gross potential had earned an unprecedented $1.1 billion in less than three years according to the movie magazine. Jada, amazed and uninformed by her husband, speed-dialed Wellington’s private number. So that’s why Wellington wanted Darius’s business. That sneak. Jada could’ve walked down the hall to Wellington’s office, but she was upset with Wellington’s behavior and being within striking distance of him at any time was not good.

  Wellington answered, “I suspect you’ve seen the article by now. I don’t have time for this. What do you want to know this time?”

  “Nothing. It’s simple. Wellington, you will give Darius back his company. End of discussion,” Jada insisted.

  “Or what? I’m part owner, too, remember? And don’t act like you haven’t benefited. I’m the one who gave your public relations firm an exclusive on all publicity for every film produced by or in conjunction with Somebody’s Gotta Be On Top.”

  “And you’re also the one paying Melanie to option new films. But I’m squeezing her ass o-u-t. Just so you know, my attorney recommended a legal separation but I’m filing for divorce.” Jada emphasized, “And I’ve decided to sell my ownership interest to Darius and help him force you out of his business.”

  “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve heard you say since I’ve known you. Darius doesn’t have time to run this hectic business.”

  Jada thought Wellington would comment on the divorce, but he didn’t. She affirmed, “Then I’ll help him.”

  “You don’t have time either. And I’m wasting my time having this conversation.” Wellington hung up the phone.