Between Sisters

by The Queen

  Part One

  After the Party

  1

  Shawnee

  Hello, I’m Shawnee Clarise Wiggins-Townsend. I am the 38-year-old eldest child of Wilhelmina and Henry Wiggins. Despite being the eldest, I haven’t always been the shining example for my younger siblings. I’ve always enjoyed a free spirit and have balanced the things I had to do in life with the things I want to do.

  Since my childhood, I have always been very creative and outgoing. I knew early on that I wanted to work in an industry that would allow me to creatively express myself, while making plenty of money. As a result, I am now a senior partner for an advertising company, The Right Look, Inc.

  I didn’t have much difficulty climbing the corporate ladder because I was always driven. Having the right physical assets also contributed to my success. I know this may sound sexist, but when I knew I was up against a man or another woman for a promotion, or even grabbing clients, I would tastefully reveal just enough cleavage or thigh to generate the creative juices in the minds of the persons I was trying to sell. My boss and owner of the company, Mr. Neely, is an older white man who loves flying into town just to catch a glimpse of whatever I let be seen, and I have yet for him to refuse me anything I want. However, the company always fares well as a result of my creative control, and Mr. Neely is very happy about that. Shawnee Wiggins would never let a deal get away. Oh no, not in this lifetime. Hell, I can turn women on, as well, without ever crossing the line. Men are like putty in my hands. My very competitive nature has driven me to do things that would cause my momma to roll over in her grave. I would say Daddy, too, but he stayed too drunk to really give a shit.

  One of my other childhood goals was to marry a lawyer or doctor. I managed to snag Robert, who is a well-paid corporate attorney. To top that, he is definitely what one would call eye candy––on the nerdy side but definitely eye candy. Thankfully, he’s nothing like the dog Sandy married. No need for a leash with Robert. We actually dated for a year and a half before he proposed marriage. Robert is one of those romantic types who like to do things big. So, while attending a Washington Wizards game, he made a public proposal for the world to see. At the time, I still had a wild streak in me, so marriage wasn’t high on my priority list. But, when someone publicly proposes, how can you shoot them down? A year and a half later, I became Mrs. Townsend. During our four years of marriage, I have been completely faithful to Robert. Maybe a bit on the flirty side, but never crossed the line.

  Robert knew I was a highly sexual woman when he first met me. What he lacked in sexuality, he made up in romancing. The heavy romancing would be enough to guilt me into always being faithful. Duracell compensated for the sexual differences. As of late, Robert has been on this excessive working kick. As a result, the minimal amount of sex has almost diminished to non-existent. Even worse, the romancing is vanishing. I’m sitting here becoming afraid of getting battery-acid poisoning. That’s how many batteries I’ve been through lately.

  It is my opinion it’s Robert’s fault that Mandingo had the opportunity to have his way with me after we left Megaplex on Wednesday. Little did my sisters know, while Mandingo was underneath my skirt doing his thing, he managed to slip a piece of paper inside my thong that read, Call me: 202-555-1374. I didn’t know it was there until I went to the ladies’ room. I kept feeling something irritating after he played inside my pussy, but I thought he must have scratched me. I was just glad he was in my pussy first before touching the other girls. When I dug the wet piece of paper out of me, my first thought was to throw it away, but when I reflected back on the orgasm I had just received in the club, I thought differently. I wondered how many of those women that he was servicing in the club had he slipped his number to. I also wondered if he slipped his number to Elaine, as well. The thought of her getting him instead of me just didn’t sit well with me; I couldn’t chance it.

  I was anxious to get away from my sisters to call Mr. Mandingo and see what else he had to offer. So, I decided to bail on them at 10:30 that night. As Mandingo made his rounds after the show, he spent most of his time making eye contact with me wherever he moved. It could have been my imagination that he was watching me, but since we were peeling off clothes at the Sheraton by 11:15 p.m., it would be safe to say it wasn’t my imagination. Mandingo showed me erogenous zones on my body I didn’t know existed. The way he kissed my body had me tingling all over. That night, I also learned I could actually take twelve inches through the back door. I’ve had twelve inches in the front door before, but never the back. Once upon a time, I enjoyed anal sex, but Robert was a turn off in that department. So, we gave up that part of our sex life. Thankfully, I had my erotic toys to supplement. But, after having twelve inches of Mandingo in my ass, my toys might get the boot. As for Robert, he can keep working those late hours until his heart’s content.

  I made it home by 1:45 that morning, and I was on cloud nine. I got a bit turned on by the thought of being with two men back to back. There were a few past occasions when I was with two at a time. That was ages ago, so now I could only settle for a back-to-back sex session.

  When I climbed into bed with Robert, he tried to play sleep. I knew he wasn’t, though. I decided to fondle him and seductively wake him up, but the bastard had the nerve to blow me off with a “not tonight, honey. I have to get up early in the morning.”

  That next morning, I went to work still fuming by the continuous rejection. However, that all changed when my secretary told me there was a Mr. Bradshaw on the line. I wondered who that could be, but was unable to figure it out.

  “Shawnee Wiggins here,” I answered. Okay, so I wouldn’t change my last name at work.

  “Hey, sexy,” some delicious sounding specimen said on the other end. “Do you have plans for lunch today?”

  I sat there a bit confused. Who is this inquiring about my lunch plans? I did give my work number to Mandingo, but during our lack of conversation, I didn’t bother asking his real name. His voice sounded so much sexier than what I remembered from the night before.

  “I’m sorry, but who am I speaking with?”

  “This would be Eric Bradshaw, also known as Mandingo,” he responded. “I didn’t think it was appropriate to call your job identifying myself as Mandingo.”

  I felt an immediate throbbing sensation between my legs, while my nipples stood at attention as if trying to tell me how to respond to his question.

  “Well, Mr. Bradshaw, I’m sure I can make some adjustments in my schedule. What did you have in mind?” I anxiously answered.

  His sexiness responded, “I was hoping you would be able to swing by my loft for the lunch I will prepare for you. I thought I’d also massage out any tension that the morning may have caused. Your office is near my loft.”

  OH MY LORD! Please help me put up some resistance here.

  “Okay,” I answered without the hesitation I would like to have given. “What time would you like to see me?”

  “I would like to see you now, but I know you have to get some work done, and I still need to prepare your lunch,” he replied. “I will leave it to your discretion, Miss Wiggins.”

  “Give me the address, and let’s plan on around one,” I said.

  “Sounds good.” Then he gave me the address before we hung up.

  Now, the typical rule for a one-night stand is to take no prisoners and don’t exchange numbers, but between the Apple Martinis and his extra large dick up in me, I forgot all the rules, including the one about cheating on your husband.

  For the rest of the morning, I couldn’t concentrate on anything else. My ass still had a sensual soreness from the previous night, but I was certainly looking forward to round two completely sober. Mr. Bradshaw had certainly met his match when it comes to freaky. Some things a woman just never outgrows, but perfects instead.

  My sensual thoughts were intruded upon when my secretary buzzed me to let me know Robert was on the phone.

  “Hi, Robert,” I answered, trying to sound l
ike I gave a hoot.

  “Hey, baby. How’s your day going?” he asked like he really gave a damn.

  “Just another day, Robert. Just another day.” This time, I let him hear the attitude.

  “Shawnee, I know you’re getting tired of my excessive work hours and lack of affection, but I promise all that will be fixed,” he answered. “As a matter of fact, how about I pick you up for lunch today?”

  Is this man stupid or what?! He thinks he’s going to make up a lack of intimacy with a fucking lunch? For Robert, lunch is just that: lunch. You don’t know how many times I fell for the okie-doke, thinking he would someday get a clue when it came to “lunch”. I went as far as suggesting to him, as Harmony advised me to, that we combine lunches with intimacy. Needless to say, I was shot down because he felt it wasn’t cool to go back in the office smelling of sex.

  “Sorry, Robert, I have a project we’re working on. Maybe we could grab dinner tonight?” I lied.

  “Ooh, sorry. That won’t work. I have a client to meet for dinner, and I know you can’t stand sitting in on my client dinners,” he answered.

  He got that shit right! Typically, his male clients spent most of the dinner checking out my boobs while I’m sitting and my ass when I stand. I won’t lie, I liked the attention, but it’s always a source for mine and Robert’s arguments. When he has women clients, he basically shows off and is the king of flirt. I’m not supposed to complain about that, though, because I’m supposed to know “it’s only business”.

  “Well, I guess I’ll see you at home tonight whenever you get there,” I responded in the most unenthusiastic voice.

  “I hope you have on something sexy when I get home, because we have some lost time to make up,” he said, trying to sound seductive.

  I ought to wear flannel pajamas tonight in mid-June. Suddenly, I perked up when I thought of getting that back-to-back sex I missed the night before.

  “I’m looking forward to it, Robert.”

  “I won’t let you down, Shawnee,” he answered.

  After hanging up, all concentration went out the window, literally. I spent the rest of the morning gazing out of the windows of my large corner office that I obtained after seducing Mr. Neely. My mind created every fantasy it could imagine, with the king-sized chocolate Mandingo being the star. The more I thought, the more aroused I became. I was half tempted to whip out my portable bullet that I keep in my purse for whenever the urge hits, but I decided to hold out. The only thing to do at this point was to wait until one o’clock. As I waited, I wondered why the name Eric Bradshaw sounded so familiar to me. I can’t say we have met before. I’m sure I would never forget meeting a man of his size. I also can’t remember anyone I knew dating someone with that name.

  Oh well, I won’t give it any more thought until I return from “lunch”. Then I will call Harmony to see if the name is familiar to her.

  I was greeted at the elevator with a single pink rose and Mandingo wearing black silk boxers and a black silk robe that exposed his smooth, bare chest. I also was greeted by the aroma of Cajun spices cooking. The kiss he planted on my lips continued from the doorway into the loft and until I was stripped down to my bare skin. Mandingo licked me from head to toe, frontwards and backwards. I returned the favor before he planted his 12-inch, or maybe longer, train into my excessively wet train station.

  Damn, I hadn’t noticed the night before, but his dick looks bigger. More intimidating this time. Whew! But it feels sensational.

  It was probably an hour later before I got to taste his deliciously prepared gumbo. After the next round, which included the anal penetration I had so longed for, he pampered me with a sensual full body massage. I grabbed a quick wash before skipping my happy-go-lucky behind back to work with some of the gumbo and a sore ass.

  Once in my office, I shuffled around a few papers, but couldn’t think about anything except for part two with Robert. My thought of the name Eric Bradshaw did return to mind, so I called my non-judgmental sister Harmony to share my deeds with.

  Have to tell somebody. Also, she may know the name.

  “Eric Bradshaw is the guy Sandy was messing around with a few years back,” she informed me after my asking.

  “Did you ever meet him? Do you know what he looks like?” I asked on the verge of panic, hoping it wasn’t one and the same.

  “I haven’t personally met him. I know Elaine met him. Also, I know he supposedly has a massive-sized penis. That part Sandy couldn’t stop talking about,” answered Harmony.

  “Oh boy, not good,” I sulked. “By any chance, do you know where he lives?”

  “All I know is that he had a loft somewhere downtown, I think. I believe he was someone she knew from high school,” Harmony added, then paused before shouting into the phone, “Shawnee! What have you done? How well do you know this Eric Bradshaw?”

  I cringed as my stomach turned in disgust of having slept with one of my sister’s boyfriends.

  “In the biblical sense,” I confessed.

  “Shawnee, have things gotten that bad between you and Robert? How did this happen, and how long has it been going on?” Harmony asked.

  “Harmony, Eric Bradshaw is Mandingo, and it began after I left you guys last night,” I answered, embarrassed.

  “Girl, I am disappointed, but I’m not mad at you!” she laughed. “What are you going to do?”

  “I don’t know. We’re supposed to hook up tomorrow for quote, unquote lunch. To answer your question about Robert and me, our sex life has deteriorated to hell. We actually have an appointment for tonight. Would you believe that? An appointment! Last night, he rejected my advances. It’s been almost three weeks, Harmony,” I pleaded.

  “You don’t have to explain to me. I know you’ve been trying everything you can to get his attention. I just don’t want you to get hurt, being caught up in a triangle,” Harmony advised.

  “I’ll play it safe. Lord knows I would hate for this to get back to Elaine or Sandy,” I said before another thought crossed my mind. “Wait a minute! Didn’t you say Elaine already met him?”

  Harmony answered, “Yeah, I think it was three or four years ago.”

  “I just remembered. Didn’t Kelly come back to the table last night talking about Mandingo practically had Elaine’s tit in his mouth?” I asked.

  “I think I do remember that. Ooh, that’s not cool at all,” Harmony said.

  “That means Elaine knew who Mandingo was while she was plopping her tit in his mouth,” I stated. “That’s trifling.”

  “Well, you knew he had his mouth on her tits when you decided to give him some of your goodies,” Harmony said, trying to be the eternal voice of reason.

  “I gave him the benefit of the doubt since we weren’t sitting together and he didn’t know we were together,” I defended.

  “Eeeww! You all are nasty,” she laughed. “I guess that logic works for a married woman.”

  “And it was damn good. Worth all the tea in China,” I laughed back. “Like I said earlier, I would like this to stay between you and me.”

  Harmony played confused. “What? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Thank you, sis,” I said, getting serious.

  “Just be careful, girl. You know I’ll always have your back,” Harmony responded.

  We talked a bit more before ending the call.

  That night when Robert got home at 12:30 a.m., he went straight to sleep without giving what he promised because he had an early morning meeting.

  2

  Elaine

  Being the middle child has always been a struggle for me. Daddy was the only one who paid me any attention, and Momma resented him and me for it. She was probably happy when he died just so I wouldn’t get any more attention.

  We all had long hair while growing up, and the witch never wanted to fix my hair. However, she would let Sandy and Harmony take turns experimenting in my hair, while she always kept their hair perfect. Shawnee was just too perfect to have t
o ever fix my hair. No one experimented in Kelly’s hair. That was Momma’s other saint ‘cause she’d tell every damn thing. However, my daddy would take only me to the beauty shop so I could be his princess, and Momma hated that.

  I have always been the more vocal one in the family, but it seems like no matter what I say, no one ever listens to what I think or feel. Talk about feeling like Jan Brady of the Brady Bunch. That would be the story of my life. My family feels I’m spoiled and materialistic. They don’t realize I had to fight for everything I have. If I’m spoiled, it’s because I had to spoil my damn self.

  My daddy died of some kind of sudden liver failure supposedly as a result of alcohol when I was fourteen years old. Then I simply fell between the cracks in the Wiggins household. I always aspired to be rich and famous, just like my daddy told me I could be. I spent most of my life living in a fantasy world. I rationalized everything in my mind and could convince others quite easily since I was convinced myself.

  By the age of sixteen, I had many boyfriends. Okay, well maybe they were only sex partners. Nonetheless, the attention helped fill the void left in me by Daddy’s death. By the age of seventeen, I made all of my “boyfriends” my tricks. Yeah, they had to start paying for this pussy, and they didn’t have any problems with it. At eighteen, I was buying my own damn car, and I also stepped up the financial contributions of my “tricks.” I figured a Georgetown University education wasn’t going to come cheap, and I hardly had my momma to turn to for guidance and support. She was too busy funneling her monies into Angelo, Sandy’s babies, and Harmony and Shawnee’s education.

  Most mothers would have been proud to have a child attending Georgetown University. Not mine. Kelly attending Howard was a bigger deal than me attending Georgetown. The fact that I graduated in three years didn’t even make her ass proud of me. Bitch didn’t even attend my graduation. All of her family came in from Detroit, and she didn’t show up nor offer any explanation or congratulations. Ironically, she always referred to me as a whore, not knowing what I did for a living, and her only words to my sisters were, “I’m surprised the whore had it in her to keep her legs closed long enough to get an education.”