by Xyla Turner
Making my way to the bar, I was planning to ask if I could speak to Skull but I didn’t even get that far.
“Baby, you look good enough to eat,” a swarmy man said as he looped his arm through mine.
I looked up and saw a tall, lanky man with a silver tooth at the bottom. Maybe it was platinum because his smile grew more extensive as if to show me the rest.
“Uh,” I managed to say as I tried to pull away.
“How about a dance or would you like a drink?” He asked with a firm grip.
“Please let me go,” I raised my voice, so he could see that I meant business.
“Oh, baby. Don’t be like that. One dance,” he was pulling me towards him. “I know you’re new here, let me show you how it’s done.”
Oh no.
Panic stepped in, just like it did on Saturday night with Skull. This made me think twice because I overreacted the first time but if I pulled out the pepper spray in my bag now to get him away, was that wrong?
“Let me go,” I yelled, which was loud enough for people in the vicinity to hear even over the music.
The man turned around quickly but it wasn’t voluntarily. I saw one fist fly, connecting with his jaw, then another jab to the stomach, which sent him tumbling over. Like avenging angels, two men grabbed the tall man on each side and had him out of there before I could even reach for my pepper spray.
“Take him to the shed,” the familiar deep voice barked. “I want to deal with him, myself.”
I blinked three times as those deep brown eyes looked at me with confusion and then compassion.
“You alright?” He asked. “He didn’t hurt you, did he?”
My head was shaking no, because being in the backseat of his car or even next to him, did not do any justice to the god-like man that stood before me. Chocolate, clear skin, bulging muscles through the black suit and white shirt that just seemed to fit him. Pristine teeth, sharp nose and full lips.
Damn.
Just damn.
He was hot and sexy as hell.
There was no reason for him to sexually assault anyone. Women were probably sexually attacking him.
“Are you okay?” He asked but his voice was lower, as if he were trying to keep the baritone out of it.
“Y-yes,” I murmured.
He grunted and snapped a finger over my head before barking, “Refund her the admission and drinks are free for this one.”
“Got it, boss.” The guy says before leaving me with my avenging savior.
My eyes were still on him but he was no longer looking at me. His head swiveled around, like he was scanning the area for someone or something.
“Warren,” I called.
His eyes snapped to mine, then he peered down lower to view me in the darkness.
“It’s Fatima, from Saturday night. You picked your sister and I up after her choir rehearsal,” I shared, intentionally leaving out the part where I attacked him when I thought he was trying to strike me.
“Fuck me,” he hissed. “That you?”
The larger than life man got closer to me, then he said, “The fuck are you doing here? Come to finish the job?”
“No, oh my gosh. I’m so sorry. I came to apologize and make it up to you.” I said with a shake of my head.
“What?” he yelled.
I repeated myself but I swear the base in the rap song that was playing grew louder.
“Come on,” I saw him mouth it before I heard it.
Then he grabbed me by the upper arm and was moving me through the now, more massive crowd, up to a set of stairs and then behind closed doors. This place, which seemed to be his office, was well lit and quiet, despite the booming music on the other side of the door. Once we were inside, he turned to me and said, “What the fuck do you have on? Why are you here?”
His facial features communicated that he was confused, the tone of his voice conveyed that he was angry. I wasn’t sure which one or was it both.
“I-I came by earlier and they wouldn’t let me in, so Telisha said that I should dress the part and they let me in,” I extended both hands.
“Tellie told you to come here?” he asked in disbelief.
“She didn’t say come, she said that it wasn’t my scene but I figured you wouldn’t take a call from me, so here I am.” I shared.
“You were almost assaulted. Like, actually assaulted out there,” he jabbed his forefinger towards the two-sided window. “Not like how you thought I was going to, or do you even know that I wasn’t? You show up here with your ass nearly hanging out, tits on display with a face like that, wanting what? To actually get assaulted?”
The man was growling and even though he had a gruff voice, it seemed more like a lion roaring than it was thunder. He was definitely angry but I still came here for a reason.
“Look, Warren. I came by to say I’m deeply sorry. You did me a huge favor and drove me home. I completely overreacted. When I came by earlier, they would not let me in, that’s why I’m dressed like this. I’m not looking to get assaulted. I don’t think you were trying to assault me. Well, now I don’t. I’m just so embarrassed and sorry. I wanted to make it up to you.” His eyebrows rose, so I continued. “Telisha said that you needed a website upgrade. I do websites and I can do yours for free. I’m pretty good, too. I’ll even throw in some marketing stuff too.”
The two of us were still near the door, with him towering over me and my head tilted up to view him. Praying that he saw how sorry I actually was about what happened on Saturday.
“No,” he said, turned away and sat behind the large desk.
“What do you mean, no,” I followed him but stood over the desk on the opposite side. “It’s going to be free. I won’t charge a thing.”
“I said, no.” He didn’t spare me a look.
“Uh, okay. I can do the marketing, then.” I tried to do something for him.
“No,” he said in the very same tone again.
“What?” I exclaimed. “Why?”
He growled but said nothing else.
The brattiness decided to show up then because I plopped in the seat behind me, crossed my arms over my chest and said, “Well, then you tell me how I can make it up to you.”
Warren slowly lifted his head, and those two brown eyes squinted at me, then he said, “You’re not in this world, lady. You want to make it up, get me a gift card. Because this world,” he moved his hand around the room, “is dark. You see the name, Ass Up, Face Down. This is the business of fucking. I got dancing going on here, fucking going on back there, bondage over here and whipping over there. You ready to see that, post it up and make my site worth visiting my expansion? You got virgin written all over you. Didn’t even recognize you with that shit on. It’s not you. This ain’t you. Now, a gift card will do. Need me to have someone drive you home?”
Wow.
He just entirely dismissed me and straight up called a thirty-three-year-old woman a virgin. I know I was a bit much on Saturday but his total disregard for what I was attempting to fix was not welcomed.
“You don’t know me, Warren.” I snapped at the hulking man. “You know nothing about me, and you…”
“No, Fatima. You don’t fucking know me,” he boomed as he stood, making me want to shrink back because the thunder was roaring again.
Then he started to round the desk to stand over me. His hand extended, nabbing my arm, pulling me out of the seat.
“You think because you know my sister and we met at her church, I’m cool or something?” He wasn’t really asking. “You pepper-sprayed me, remember? You got it with you now? Might want to grab onto it, because if you don’t get your ass out of my office and my club, I will take you over my damn knee, spank it red and you’ll remember me and this all fucking week. You hear me.”
Why, oh why, my panties started to melt between my legs, and I was a little hazy at that moment. Him talking to me like that, did not scare me but made me curious. Spank me? Remember him? The only thing I disliked a
bout him being in my personal space was that he was not touching me.
A grunt left him, then he let me go.
“Go on, girl,” he growled.
Instead of scurrying out, I stood my ground, lifted my shin and spoke.
“I said I would do your website. I am not a virgin, I don’t mind looking at pictures, BDSM or otherwise for work. You are correct. I don’t know you, but I don’t have to in order to make your website better than any of the rival clubs.”
His eyes never left mine but we stood toe-to-toe with his neck bending down to look at me, and mine tilted up to meet his gaze. Then I felt it. He slapped the left cheek of my ass, but kept looking at me. Almost daring me to do something. Make a move. But I refused. I just moved slightly forward with a grunt of the sting. Then his hand came down on my right cheek. Another light grunt escaped my mouth and I swayed forward again. He slapped the left, then the right and left again and I remained standing and staring at him.
My breaths were short and my breathing felt labored as the lightning was striking down my entire soul. Every fiber of my being, felt like it was on pins and needles. Awareness captivated my senses as I could hear and feel almost everything. A tilt of the corner of his mouth, silently spoke of mischievousness but I tried to remain steadfast with my resolve.
Warren’s hand slapped the right side of my ass one more time, but instead of removing it right away, he squeezed it hard.
“How much would you bet, if I removed that piece of fabric you call a skirt, and slid my fingers through those panties, your pussy would be nice and wet for me?” He asked with need and hunger in his eyes.
We were in a bubble and no one would understand why I stayed or even tempted this man after his warnings. I would blame it on the bubble that only made sense if someone was in it with us. His entire being set the tone for what was about to happen. Even in the club, Warren hits the scene and everybody just does what he says.
“I don’t bet,” I shared.
He smiled.
Ha.
Warren smiled.
It was gorgeous too.
God, he was handsome. I was out of his league but I could help his business.
“So, do we have a deal?” I ask. “I’m not scared, I can take a spanking, and can see whatever you got, so I can do your website.”
His pink tongue slipped out and wet his lips. It was almost a taunt because I wanted to taste them. It seemed like he was daring me to take my fill, but he and I couldn’t be a thing. He was the sexy owner of a club. His chick should be one of those video vixens that could dance and make her butt clap or something. I didn’t even know what twerking looked like. Unless it had something to do with Twitter, which I doubted.
“Deal,” he said, with his hand still on my ass.
He massaged it more and began to move it up towards the top of my beige cotton panties. They were chosen for comfort, rather than style. It kept me dry, well, before he started slapping my ass.
“Okay, then.” I grabbed his wrist, removed it from my body and said, “I can start next week. Who should I send my list of items I need before we get started?”
“Me,” he grunted.
“Fine, I’m going to need your email address.” I shared.
“Don’t do email, here is my cell,” he rattled it off, while I nabbed my bag to program it on my phone.
“When is a good time to call?” I asked, still standing toe to toe with him.
“Whenever.” he shared.
“Okay, then.” I cleared my throat. “Have a good evening.”
Warren did not move, so I put my hand into his hard chest and he let me push him back. When I turned to leave, he said in a loud voice, “Stop.”
I turned around, he had a walkie-talkie in his hand, speaking, “Have Ralph come to my office. I need him.”
“Yes,” I said.
“One minute,” he said as he put his hands in those snug pants.
It took a lot of effort not to look at the bulge that was pressing on the side of his thigh. That beast was massive, just like him. A knock on the door interrupted my thoughts. Warren’s voiced cut through the tension called for them to enter.
“Ralph, take Fatima home? She lives in West Philly and since she’ll be working for us as our new web designer, I’d like her to make it there untouched.” He said to the older man with salt and pepper hair.
“Yes, sir.” The man answered, with a brown suit on and pale-yellow shirt.
“Fatima, no pepper-spraying Ralph, okay?” He said with a smirk.
Ralph's eyes went up but I shook my head and said, “It was a misunderstanding; I promise I won’t.”
Then I quickly left out of the office, but I still heard him say, “Looking forward to working with you.”
Right.
Now that I was no longer in the bubble, what had I done?
Chapter 3
Warren
Fuck.
The shiest woman I have ever met, just fought me to do my website. As an apology of course. Her fucking ass needed to apologize, since she left me having a coughing fit on the side of the damn road. I wasn’t able to gather my shit back together for at least forty minutes and that was when I called Tellie and cussed her ass right out for having me do that shit in the first place. I was fucking pissed, but I completely understood, why the pretty woman had tried to defend herself when she thought I was attacking her. Shit, it almost made me proud, if my eyes, mouth and nose weren’t stinging like a mother fucker.
Never in a million years, would I have thought she’d bring her ass to my club and why in the hell would Tellie send her this way. She had to warn her about the type of place my establishment was. A regular club in the front and a BDSM club in the back, which was not advertised. This was precisely why I did not want her working on my site, because it was more of the BDSM club that needed the online overhaul, but if her sexy ass wanted to take my punishment and flirt with what she knew not of, I’d give it to her.
All of it.
***
Next week could not come fast enough and Tellie still knew I wasn’t taking her calls. That didn’t stop her from ringing though. The one call I did answer was a two-oh-two number, which was a D.C. number.
“Skull,” I answered.
“Uh, Warren. It’s Fatima, the one who is doing your website.” She mentioned again, not backing down.
“Yeah,” I answered.
“Yes, well I just wanted to confirm when you would be in the office. Also, I have a list of things that you’ll need which will make my time there quicker and more efficient.” She said in that smooth way of hers.
“Monday at eleven and text me what you need.” I shared.
“Uh, yeah. Okay.” She didn’t really respond. “I can just tell you now.”
“No pen near me, text it,” I said. “See you Monday.”
Then I disconnected since the phone was not my thing and plus my dick was pressing against my slacks, ready to rip the zipper. I let him out, while in my office as the club continued to whirl around me with short strokes to the head. There was no need for relieving myself just yet because Monday was coming. So, I would be buried in the little shy web designer. We’d get the site done, but I wanted to do her too.
Monday
“Boss, she’s here.” My radio went off but I remained seated because they had their instructions.
She had to sign the non-disclosure agreement, we’d already done our background check on her and the woman was a legit web designer. Her website bolstered many known and unknown companies that could battle any rival. Though, I hate to admit it, I didn’t think she was any damn good. Especially if she was doing my sister’s church website. The Tilden church was not that large but it definitely wasn’t anywhere near a mega-church status and her designs, were of that caliber.
When they brought her to my office, I had her set up at a table with everything she requested. Pictures, contracts of consent to use the images, flash drive with our logo, blurbs, and explanatio
ns of each page, the layout, etc.
Fatima was clothed in a dress today that stopped mid-thigh with flat shoes and her hair pushed on the left side. It was simple, but this was her. The woman had to be about five-foot and six-inches. She was probably a size ten with a nice ass, C or D cup tits and those lips.
Goddamn.
My dick began to throb and she hadn’t even come in the room entirely yet.
“Morning,” she greeted me.
I grunted and nodded for her to go over to her station.
“Ahhh, nice. It seems that everything is here.” Fatima noted while pulling out her laptop and began to load it. “So, Warren. Tell me your overall look and feel for your new site. What are you trying to accomplish with this information portal? Are you trying to transport people or give them just a taste? It’s the club and BDSM? Are they exclusively separate or just two different sites? How exclusive? Do you want to set up your site, like the club is currently? Poles, dancing models or is it a place you want people to interact? Let’s say have people meet up, post pictures or schedule events? I’m asking you a bunch of questions, because I want to get your vision out, so I can work with what you have given me.”
She pulled out a notepad with a pen and patiently, also professionally waited. I did not like talking but when it came to my shit, I would. So, I thought about her questions and answered each of them. Giving her facts, figures and even showed her some sites that I thought were nice. That was for the dance club side. For the BDSM club, I wanted it to be about the experience and the only way for her to get that was to experience it.
After an hour of conversation, I offered her some fruit that was delivered and rounded the desk, so she could see what I had on my flash drive. A lot of them were from the various scenes, events and demonstrations that were held at the club over the years with members who gave consent. They were graphic and most of them wouldn’t go on the site but I wanted her to see them.
Standing next to her as she flicked through some of them, I saw it. Shit, I felt the shift in the air. The designer wasn’t scared.