Man Swappers

by Cairo

  I decide to graciously bow out of this conversation before it turns sour by quickly changing the subject. “Mom, we love you, okay? Now, tell me. How are you?”

  Surprisingly, in the blink of an eye, she lets it go—for now. “I’m good. Your father and I are going down to Atlantic City for the weekend.”

  “Oh, that should be nice. When are y’all going?”

  “Friday afternoon.” I ask her where they’ll be staying. “The Borgata,” she tells me, excitedly. “We’ll be back on Sunday evening.”

  “Nice. Well, have fun and win lots of money,” I say, trying not to sound like I’m rushing her off the phone. But I am! “Mom, can I call you later? It’s getting busy here.” I keep my eyes locked on the customers.

  “Hold on. Before you go I want to know if you and your sisters received your invitations to Pasha’s wedding?”

  I shake my head, wondering why she’s asking me what she’s already asked Persia, like she’s going to get a different answer or something. “Mom, not to be rude, but I’m sure you’ve already ask Persia this? So why are you asking me the same question?”

  She ignores the question as she always does. “Are you all going?”

  “I don’t know. I really haven’t had time to discuss it with Persia and Porsha, yet. Why?”

  “Because I’d like for us all to be seated at the same table, that’s why. It’s been a long time since we’ve all been out together at a family event.”

  “Well, it’s not a big deal if we aren’t at the same table as you and Daddy. I’m sure Pasha will sit us with some of our other cousins who aren’t being allowed to bring dates.”

  “It’s not personal.”

  “I didn’t say it was. And I don’t feel that it is. I’m only making a statement.”

  “Well, make sure you don’t forget to RSVP.”

  Mmmph, the last time we RSVP’d to Pasha’s wedding it ended up getting cancelled because she had been allegedly kidnapped by a bunch of thugs as she was walking to her car coming out of the mall. They beat her senseless, then dumped her in a park. Thank God that early morning jogger found her when she did. There’s no telling what else might have happened to her. The crazy thing about that whole situation was that Pasha wouldn’t cooperate with the police investigation, which we all thought was kind of strange. But, whatever! Her life, her reasons. She kept saying she couldn’t remember anything, or that she just wanted to put the whole ordeal behind her. And she refused to talk about it with her own grandmother, or even Felecia, who she’s very close to. It was all very bizarre. Persia, with her overactive imagination, seems to think there’s a whole lot more to the story than meets the eye. But, I guess no one will ever know what really happened now. I’m just glad she’s alright. After the murders of her mother and father, the last thing Pasha’s grandmother needed was another tragedy.

  It dawns on me that I haven’t spoken to her in months; that I haven’t even had a chance to see the baby since his birth. We may not be as close as we once were, but we still have love for each other. I decide to give her a call one day this week to meet for lunch, or maybe I’ll stop down at the shop and drop off an early birthday gift for her son since he’ll be turning one soon.

  “The wedding isn’t until August. It’s the end of March, Mom. We still have time to RSVP.” Why she sent out her invitations so early is beyond me, but what do I care? Not my wedding.

  “I know, but still. I want to make sure you girls are going to be there. Your Aunt Harriet really wants to see y’all.”

  “Okay. Like I said, I haven’t really had a chance to look at the invitation, yet. But I’m sure we’ll most likely be there. If not, we’ll send a gift.”

  “Well—”

  “Mom, look, I gotta go. I’ll call you later.”

  “Okay, then. Talk to you later. Love you.”

  “I love you, too.” I hang up, walking over to the case to get the clutch, then putting it behind the counter. I go back over to help two of the four women in the store with picking out scarves and some accessories. When they’ve finished selecting their items, they follow me back to the register. I ring up their purchases separately, charging their respective credit cards, then hand them both copies of their receipts.

  As I’m handing them their shopping bags, the door opens. And in walks a tall, beautiful dark-skinned man wearing designer shades, looking like he stepped off the cover of a magazine. He fills the store with his masculinity and the crisp, intoxicating scent of his cologne. My pussy immediately tingles, alerting me that this man is fuckable on the spot.

  I eye him as he makes his way over to the counter. I smile at him. “Hi, welcome to Paradise Boutique. Can I help you find something?”

  “Nah,” he says in his thick accent. It’s not a New York accent, I think, trying to figure out where he’s from. And it’s not Caribbean. And it’s definitely not a Southern drawl. Mmmm. “I’m here to pick up some kind of pocketbook for my moms.”

  Connecticut, I bet. “Oh, yes, you mean the clutch,” I say, allowing my eyes to travel the length of his sexy-ass body. I can tell he’s hiding a chiseled, rock-hard chest and abs underneath his Ed Hardy thermal. The two customers leaving the shop admire him as well. Mmmph, mmmph...I’d like to fuck him real quick in the back. I pull the purse from out of the storage drawer. “You must be Desmond.”

  He nods. “Yeah, that’s me.”

  “How will you be paying for this?” I ask, hoping he says with a credit card so that I can request to see his ID. There’s something about him that has sparked my curiosity. And he hasn’t even said more than twenty words to me. I stare into his intense brown eyes when I ask this, then gaze at his juicy lips. My clit starts to throb.

  “Cash,” he says, dashing any hopes of learning where he lives without flat-out asking him. I watch as he pulls out a thick knot of bills. “How much?” I tell him the price, ringing up his purchase. He peels twenty one-hundred dollar bills from his roll, then hands them to me. “Don’t worry about the change, beautiful.”

  Beautiful? Is this fine motherfucker flirting with me?

  Girl, get over yourself. He’s only being friendly. He probably calls every woman he comes into contact with that. I tilt my head, take him in as I hand him his change, insisting he take it. “That’s kind of you, but I’d prefer you...”

  “How much is the brown bag?” one of the women who walked in earlier asks as she walks up to the counter.

  “Oh, that bag’s fifteen-hundred dollars.”

  “Whew, that’s alright. What about the smaller bag?” I tell her it’s six-hundred. She decides she wants it; asks if I accept American Express. I tell her we do. Then bring my focus back to the hunk of chocolate in front of me as I wrap the clutch and slide it into its silk bag, then put it in a box along with his five dollars. Girlfriend asks me another question about another bag and right now I wish her ass would walk up out of here, or shut the fuck up.

  “Give me a sec. I’ll be right over to get it out of the case for you as soon as I finish up with this customer.”

  The dark-chocolate man standing in front of me grins at me. There’s something alluringly sexy in his crooked grin that makes me want to forget I’m a lady, and fuck him right up on top of this counter for all to see. For a fleeting moment, I forget I am in my store and imagine him making love to my cunt and my clit and my erect nipples with his tongue. Imagine feeding him my juices, riding his dick, then sucking him off until he shoots his hot load down into my throat. I imagine all of this, forgetting I have other customers in the store. I blink back the images. Bring my focus back to the mystery man in front of me. He is staring at me. I look directly into his eyes and a shiver passes through me.

  I frown, raising my brow. “What. Why are you looking at me like that? Is there something wrong?”

  He shakes his head, pulling a card out of the holder. He studies it. “Nah, I’m chillin’, takin’ everything in. So, you own this spot?”

  I nod, putting the box into a shopping ba
g, then handing it to him. “Yes, I do. How’d you know that?”

  “Call it a hunch.” He grins, eyeing me. “My moms had some real choice words for you, but I’ma have’ta tell her you’re nothing like she said.”

  I laugh. “What, she said I was a real bitch on the phone?”

  He laughs with me. “Yeah, sumthin’ like that.”

  I shrug, removing a strand of hair from my face. I place it behind my ear. “I can be when it’s called for.”

  He rests his forearms on the counter, then leans in toward me. “Well, between you and me, I love my moms to death, but she has a way of bringin’ it out of the best of ’em. Don’t tell her I told you that.”

  I smile. “I bet she does. Don’t worry. Your secret is safe with me.”

  He smiles back at me. “Oh, word? What else you like to keep safe?”

  I knew it! This nigga is flirting with me.

  “I don’t kiss and tell,” I flirt back, tilting my head and running my fingers through my hair.

  “I like the sound of that.”

  Our eyes stay locked on each other’s. There’s definitely chemistry between the two of us. I can tell he feels it, too. But, before I allow myself to get caught up in the moment, reality sets in that I am running a business; not a pick-up spot. I shift my body language, and become all business again. “Well, thanks for shopping at Paradise Boutique. We appreciate your business. I hope your mother enjoys her purchase.”

  He catches the hint, smiling. “I’m sure she will. Look, I’ma let you get back to handlin’ ya business. I’ll be back through to check out the rest of your goods.” He says this with innuendo dripping from his lips.

  I smile, flirtatiously. “And I’ll be here when you do.”

  “Cool-cool. You got a name, beautiful?”

  I grab the keys to the glass case, then walk from around the counter. “If you happen to come back through, I’ll tell you what it is then. If not”—I shrug—“you’ll never know.”

  He grins. “Oh, aiight, I see how you doin’ it.” He glances down at the card in his hand. “It’s all good, though. I’ll just call you Paradise.”

  I smile. “Well then, welcome to Paradise; where all of your desires are fulfilled.”

  He laughs. “Damn, I like the sound of that.”

  “I’m sure you do.”

  “I’ll definitely be back to check for ya real name.”

  “We’ll see,” I say, glancing over my shoulder. “You know where to find me. Again, thanks for shopping at Paradise.”

  His smile widens. “No doubt.”

  I watch as he walks toward the door, imagining him naked and sweaty, his dick buried deep in my pussy. For some reason, I decide not to mention him to Persia and Porsha. Shit, there’s nothing to tell, I think, walking over to unlock the handbag case, knowing if opportunity presents itself, I am going to sample what his fine-ass has to offer, and if it’s good, I’ll fuck the skin off his dick!

  Persia

  CHAPTER FIVE

  “I want to take you home and fuck the shit out of you,” I whisper into the ear of the deliciously dark stallion seated to the left of me. It’s Saturday night and Paris, Porsha and I are at the Key Club in Newark—a restaurant, bar and lounge—popping and swinging our hips to DJ Qua’s live broadcast as he spins the house mixes and makes the party rock. Paris and Porsha are somewhere on the dance floor sweating it out. Dark Stallion and I are at the bar continuing our off-and-on flirting. We’d danced a few times throughout the night and I had the pleasure of rubbing up against his body some, pressing my ass up against the center of his crotch; just enough to awaken his loins. And we’ve exchanged a few pleasantries in between. Never one to sweat a man, I’ve kept my eye on him for most of the night from afar. Watched how he flirted with his eyes and body, on and off the dance floor. I’ve seen how he moves on the dance floor, now I want to feel how he moves in the sheets. We’ve locked eyes every so often, flashing quick smiles, a slight nod, even a wink. Yet, neither of us has made a move. Still, I’ve patiently lied in wait, waiting for the right time to strike, like now—when he’s at the bar, sweaty and alone, tossing back his sixth Remy Martin on ice. And now that time is winding down, it’s time to strike. And go in for the kill. He chokes on his drink, coughing. “Oooh, Daddy, don’t get all choked up on my account. You okay?”

  “Yeah,” he says, covering his mouth as he coughs again. “You caught me off-guard.” What else is new? Most men can’t handle a sexually dominant woman. They either get scared off, start to feel inadequate, or both. He lets out a nervous laugh. “I see you get right to the point.”

  “I’m a grown woman,” I tell him, eyeing him seductively. I pause, drinking the remainder of my ten-dollar drink. “I don’t have time for games. I know what I want, and I go after it.”

  “I like that in a woman,” he offers, taking another sip of his drink. “Now what is it you want again?” He grins.

  I tilt my head. “You heard me the first time.”

  “Yeah, I did. But I wanna hear it again.”

  I lean into his ear. Repeat myself, slowly. “I. Want. To. Fuck. You.” I step back, waiting for his response.

  “You have a man?”

  I slowly shake my head. “Nope. And I’m not looking for one.”

  He grins, nodding his head. “I hear that. So tell me. What exactly are you looking for?”

  “Besides a hard dick,” I tell him, leaning in to him to minimize who else hears the conversation, “a man who can keep up with me. I’m a real freak, Daddy. I love to suck, swallow, lick balls and eat a man’s ass, and be fucked all night. And, right now, I want some hard black dick in my life. Is that you?”

  He grins, locking his gaze onto my perky tits. He tells me it could be him as he takes the rest of me in. I position myself so that he can see the meaty hump of my ass. I place a hand up on my hip, profiling. His smile widens as he opens and closes his legs. I glance down at his lap, then discreetly scoot over closer to him and cut my eyes around the bar area. I am glad we are sitting on the far end of the bar, and the music is loud enough to drown out what we’re saying, but not so loud that I need to scream in his ear for him to hear me. When I am certain no one will notice what I am about to do, I slide my hand between his legs. I feel for his dick over the fabric of his pants. Knead it when I do. It’s not as thick as I’d like it to be. But it’s long and extra hard. He finishes his drink, tossing it back in one big gulp. “I wanna feel this long dick in the back of my throat.”

  “Oh, word? You think you can handle that?”

  “The question is do you think you can handle it?”

  He smiles. “Don’t let the reserved, preppy look fool you,” he says, raising his glass to the bartender when he catches his eye. “I’m a real freak, too, baby; down for whatever,” he tells me, eyeing me.

  “Uh-oh, I’ve heard that before,” I say teasingly. He tells me he aims to please a woman as long as she’s willing to return the favor. I discreetly continue stroking his dick. He tells me I’ve gotten him horny. I tell him I stay horny. “Mmmm, is that so? What do you like to get into with a woman? What do you fantasize about?”

  “I love sloppily eating pussy while I’m getting my big dick slobbered on. I dig women who squirt, swallow cum, or allow me to creampie them.” Oooh, this nasty nigga likes going in raw, I think, as my lips curve upward into wicked grin. A wave of heat courses through me at the thought of him pumping his cream into my hot pussy, then eating it out as I squeeze it out into his mouth. “Just some things I either would like or do like to do. I’m also into masturbating while I’m being watched, and mutual masturbation. And I dig toys, props and role play.”

  My grin widens. “Then tonight’s your lucky night.” He tells me he also has a thing for a woman with big nipples, a woman who loves sucking dick, loves to come. “So do you wanna come home with me? Or maybe go back to your place, then get down to the business of pleasing each other?” The bartender walks over to our side of the bar. Dark Stallion t
ells him to refill his drink, asks me what I’d like. I tell him three Big Apples, one of their specialty drinks—a mixture of Grey Goose, a splash of Sour with a sliced green apple. I tell him I’ll pay for this ’round. He gives me a confused look.

  “Nah, I got this, baby. But, uh, you’re gonna drink three of them? Whew, I guess you’re no lightweight.”

  “No, these are for...”

  “Girl, there you are,” Porsha says, walking up to us as if on cue. Dark Stallion looks at her, then me. “Yes, we’re related,” she says to him, smiling. “And you are?”

  “In heaven,” he says, smiling. “Whew, twins. The two of you are beauties.”

  “And we’re good in bed, too,” I tell him seductively, licking my lips. I keep my hand on his dick. I squeeze for emphasis. “But we’re not twins.”

  He tilts his head, taking in the both of us. “You’re not. Damn, y’all look so much alike. The two of you are some real beauties.”

  I grin, then lean into his ear. “And we have some real good pussy, too.”

  “So what you saying? The two of you wanna get it in with me?”

  I shake my head, eyeing Paris as she is walking over from the other side of the club. “No, the three of us do.”

  “Three of you?”

  “Yes,” I say as Paris approaches us. “The three”—I point at Paris, Porsha and myself—“of us.”

  Paris huffs. “Ugh, I’ve been looking for the two of...” She pauses, looking over at Dark Stallion. He’s staring at the three of us in awe. She smiles at him.

  “Ohhhhh, shit...”

  “That’s right, triplets,” I say, rubbing and squeezing his dick. “And, tonight, you’re about to get triple the pleasure. That’s unless you don’t think you can handle all three of us.”

  He rubs his chin. “I’ve had threesomes, and I’ve done a few trains in my day. But, I’ve never been approached by a beautiful woman to fuck her and her sisters, triplets at that.”

  Porsha smiles. “Don’t be scurred. We’ll go easy on you.”

  He laughs. “Nah, I think I can handle it.” He looks at me as I’m massaging his hard dick. “What you think?”