In fact, that night they had organized six women who were currently at the luxurious apartment for Raizer T’s exploration; a 17-year-old beautiful, tall, thin and light-skinned Black girl, with average-sized, upright natural breasts; a tall, strong-limbed 20-year-old Brazilian with a curvy behind and thick sensual lips; an 18-year-old American Chinese with tiny breasts and a small frame; a 23-year-old Black woman of generous proportions, with a beautiful, smooth face, dark skin, heavy breasts and a big behind; a 19-year-old blonde with big breasts and a captivating smile; as well as the long-haired attractive Mexican with a small waist, who was aged 22 and was described by Raizer T’s people as “bootylicious”. Save for the 17-year-old, all these women were pornstars, identified by Raizer T while watching pornography videos and then requesting his people to find them for him. He was paying a small fortune for their collective private service, but Raizer T didn’t mind. He knew no limits when it came to fulfilling his sexual fantasies.
When he awakened at exactly 10.15am, his current harem was brought to his spacious, sumptuous bedroom quarters. They were all dressed differently in a variety of clothes common to women in porn films; high-heeled shoes and knee-length boots, scant G-strings, suspenders, fish-net stockings, super-miniskirts, etc., including the Mexican, who had woken up an hour earlier than Raizer T. All six were showered and smelled clean and fresh as they joined him on the king-size bed, armed with a wide variety of sex toys. For the next hour, Raizer T enjoyed the pleasures administered to his body by the six women in expert fashion. Collectively, the seven of them used every available space within the bedroom suite to explore sexual techniques frequently used in the porn industry…blowjob, deep-throating, anal penetration, lesbian pussy-eating, cowgirl ride, spoons-position, doggy style, cum-swallowing, anal doggy style…etc.
At 11.17am, Raizer T took a quick warm shower before having a warm pizza, French fries, two hot dogs, and a generous measure of Coco Cola. At 11.45 he was in Queens, New York, on the set of a music video for an RnB starlet in whose song he was featured. During breaks in his shoot, he was interviewed and photographed by reporters from a New York daily newspaper. At 15.45 he was at the Statue of Liberty, doing a photo shoot for his clothing label’s forthcoming spring collection, images which would be splashed in pages of all the major publications in the country. At 16.00 his schedule said he had a delayed lunch meeting with one Joelyn Smith, Hollywood’s newest star. At exactly that time, his PA called Ms. Smith and profusely apologized on behalf of Mr. Ryzor and added that Mr. Ryzor was held up elsewhere in other business and could only accommodate Ms. Smith at 18.oo – if Ms. Smith did not mind, of course?
Ms. Smith, already sitting down at one of the tables at an upmarket Manhattan restaurant that she had called weeks earlier to reserve this very table for this particular meeting at 1600 hours on this day with music genius Raizer T, was positively agitated, but her voice did not betray her true emotions when she spoke to Ryzor’s assistant. They agreed that a car sent courtesy of Mr. Ryzor would pick her up from where she was staying and transport her to meet Mr. Ryzor for a dinner meeting at a fabulous restaurant in the Financial District at 1800 hours. Her emotions seriously edging towards anger, Joelyn left the restaurant and the doorman flagged down a yellow cab to take her to the Peninsula Hotel at the corner of Fifth Avenue and 55th Street.
At 16.45 Raizer T was done with his photo shoot for the day. The photographer still had more locations he wanted to do, but that would be on another day. At 17.30, Raizer T was stuck in heavy traffic, sitting at the backseat of an alpine-white customized BMW 760Li, having a video conference call with his business partners to discuss the progress in their joint venture, the building of a new hotel and casino in Dallas, Texas.
At exactly 18.04 he was sitting down at his favorite table, situated at a corner of the restaurant, flanked by two bodyguards, using his iPad to tweet to his 25 million followers what was on his mind, when the table was approached by the most gorgeous woman he had ever laid eyes on.
Chapter 12
Intelligent minds attract. When they do, it is so powerful a force of nature that it can lead to dangerous obsession.
On first impression, Raizer T had thought Joelyn Smith to be one of those blue-eyed blondes; the superficial kind with nothing of substance to offer beneath their beautiful features. Then they had exchanged words and discussed the direction in music that she wanted to take, and he had learned that she possessed an intelligence that he, for some odd reason, found sexy. Raizer T met a lot of different women in his day-to-day dealings, and he had had sexual liaisons with plenty of women in his life, but most of them were of a magnificent mediocrity when it came to the subject of their intelligence. It was breathtaking to be with a top-rate beautiful and intelligent woman.
That night, he personally saw to it that Joelyn was delivered safely to her temporary home, the Peninsula Hotel. He sat beside her on the reclining backseats of the Maybach 62 that had brought her to the restaurant, the two bodyguards at the front, one of them doubling as a chauffeur.
In the morning, three bouquets of red, yellow and white roses arrived by special delivery at her suite at the hotel. The card attached to the red flowers read: To a beautiful woman, from a gentleman.
A little after 9.30am, Raizer T used his smartphone with his private number, known only to a few select close friends and family, to call her phone number. ‘Did you get the flowers?’ he asked after they had exchanged greetings.
‘I was wondering who sent them,’ she replied truthfully.
Raizer T let out a laugh of amusement. Briefly. ‘I was wondering something different. I’m thinking we could do lunch together…informal…Lemme show you around town.’
Joelyn hesitated. Raizer T was getting friendly with her too fast, but she was afraid of offending him. He was, after all, the man who would take her music career to the stars. Last night, when the Maybach 62 had picked her up and taken her to the restaurant to meet Raizer T, Joelyn’s stomach had knotted with apprehension at what sort of character she would meet. Owing to South Africa’s lingering racial prejudice, Joelyn had had few personal dealings in her life with Black people. She knew from music videos that he was a handsome kind of guy, usually with short, neat hair and no visible tattoos on his body, but she did not know who the real Raizer T was. She had found out last night that he was a surprisingly intelligent-sounding guy who spoke in “proper” English and was dressed more like a careless fashion designer than a rapper’s rapper. He was also shorter than TV suggested; perhaps shorter than her, and she was of average height. He had been in casual white pants, white sneakers and a green shirt with white vertical stripes, open at the collar to give a glimpse of a white vest. The only items of jewelry he wore were a gold watch on his left hand and a dazzling diamond bracelet that was a perfect fit for his right wrist.
‘I didn’t get that,’ his voice brought her mind back to the present and she realized that she had not answered him.
‘Okay.’
‘Okay? Good. Can I pick you up at 12?’
‘Sure.’
That was the end of their conversation. He arrived exactly on time at her hotel, accompanied by his bodyguards. With the two protectors in tow, they walked around the city, sightseeing. He took her to Times’ Square, a dazzling arcade of tall buildings and electronic advertising boards. They bought hot dogs from a stall and she told him that she knew a place called South Africa where there were sausages of a premium quality, known as boerewors. They took a yellow cab to Central Park, where it rained all of a sudden and they had to rush indoors and hide.
It was an afternoon when he learned that she was from South Africa and had until recently been married. It was an afternoon when she learned that currently aged twenty-eight, Anthony Ryzor had seven children of varying ages, two of them the same age but with different mothers. The eldest of those children was aged eleven.
‘What?’ Joelyn was shocked. ‘Your first child was created when you were just sixteen!’
; ‘It’s crazy,’ he said with a smile. ‘But it’s true. I just can’t seem to keep this thing in its pants.’
She laughed hysterically at that.
He went on. ‘I guess it’s genetic. My father went through five marriages and produced twelve children within those marriages and six without…and supported none of us. I’m tryin’ to be a better man and takin’ care of all of my kids.’
It was an afternoon when it rained intensely but for a brief period, baffling meteorologists and laymen alike, and afterwards the skies cleared and the sunshine fell across the city and brought with it a wonderful atmosphere. It was an afternoon when they strolled through Central Park, enjoying the wonderful atmosphere that lingered after the short rainfall. It was an afternoon when she discovered how busy an individual he was, his phone singing incessantly until he had to switch it off in respect of her. It was an afternoon when he stopped in his tracks in the middle of Central Park, his bodyguards a stone’s throw behind them, and looked at her with a serious expression. ‘Joelyn, I’m deeply attracted to you.’
She did not know what to say, but she forced her brain to formulate an answer. ‘You’ve only just met me.’
‘That’s all it takes.’
With a shy look on her face, Joelyn looked down and continued walking. He fell into pace beside her. ‘Let’s have dinner tonight. Just the two of us. No bodyguards. No entourage. Just me ’n’ you.’
She stopped walking and looked at him. ‘We have a recording session tonight, remember?’
‘Shit! Sorry.’ He snapped his fingers at his bodyguards. ‘Guys, get us transport. We have to go to the studio.’
A yellow cab took them to the Financial District. At Ryze Entertainment, Raizer T demonstrated to Joelyn that he was as devoted to his work as he was to sex. He put her in a sound-proof recording booth, sat behind a set of recording equipment, played her a beat and told her to sing to the beat. He did that three times, and then told her to sing a different song. Afterwards, he beckoned her to come over to his side of the partitioning glass. She took a seat beside him and he swiveled his chair to face her.
‘Joelyn, you got talent, but your voice needs a lotta work.’ He saw the apprehensive look in her eyes. ‘Don’t worry; I’ll make a star outta ya. You got the money to finance your project, so that’s a plus for you. And you came to the right place. We aren’t gonna take your money and just do a chop-chop job. We’ll do our best to get the best voice outta you. My only concern is that you don’t have a label. You will need one to publish your music and protect your copyright.’
‘What about Ryze Entertainment?’
‘I’m thinking that we don’t do the sort of music you wanna do…’
‘Oh.’ Disappointed.
‘But we can work out a contract,’ he concluded.
‘Oh.’ Relieved.
‘I got connections in the music industry. We leak a song here and there over the next few weeks and get you recognition. We get people interested in Jo S and nobody but Jo S, so—.’
Unannounced, his secretary and PA both burst into the studio, paused and realized that no recording was in session, then scolded him for switching both his phones off.
He ignored them and said to Joelyn, ‘We start tonight. Somebody’ll pick you up at 7pm. In the meantime, get some rest and sleep if necessary. I want you fresh and nice when you get here.’
Chapter 13
After the success of the Woodyard film, Joelyn Smith became hot property in Hollywood. She was offered leading roles in two separate films but turned both of them down, citing other work commitments, when in fact she didn’t want to be in a Christmas movie, the first, or a tasteless comedy, the second. She accepted three other offers; a period drama based on a best-selling novel, a spy thriller set in the 1980s, and a modern-day romantic comedy that she would also co-produce. Men were another nuisance of life to contend with. Now that she was publicly single, both rich and famous men were calling her agent trying to get a date with the beautiful Joelyn Smith, among them the playboy son of a UAE emir.
She turned them all down, but did accept the invitation from Raizer T to go with him to watch an evening NBA game between the New York Knicks and the Brooklyn Nets at Madison Square Garden. They watched the game from a suite-box, with some of his friends and, of course, his bodyguards. Cristal flowed in copious amounts, and the men smoked cigars while their lady friends tried not to look bored. After the game, Joelyn and Raizer T were taken to his apartment in an all-white Rolls Royce. When they took the elevator upstairs and reached his door, Raizer T said to the bodyguards, ‘Guys, beat it. Go. I don’t want anybody here tonight.’
The two burly men obeyed his orders and went away. Raizer T entered into the condominium and yelled, ‘Everybody, get out! I want some privacy in this fucking place, and I don’t need nobody near me. You hear?’
He was clearly drunk, and the people did not want to upset the hand that fed them, so they filed out of the apartment, all except one, a beautiful White girl with dark, tanned skin and eyes that had been inherited from a Vietnamese grandmother. She walked up to Raizer T. ‘Raize, you said you wanted me tonight, remember?’ she asked, almost pleading, near desperation.
‘Bitch, get out,’ Raizer T pointed at the door.
‘Please, Raizer, no. I need you. Tonight—.’
‘I said get out!’
The girl hurried out of the door and Raizer T slammed it shut. ‘Bitch-ass whore!’ he cursed, but when he turned around to face Joelyn, his eyes held only affection. ‘Jo S,’ he smiled at her. ‘Beautiful Jo S.’
To a degree, Joelyn was also drunk, but not so much as to lose her mind. ‘Who’s she?’ she asked with concern after the girl.
‘Forget her,’ said Raizer T, wrapping his arms around her waist.
‘Who’s she?’ Joelyn insisted.
‘She’s a porn star,’ Raizer T sighed in exasperation. ‘She wants to sing, but the bitch ain’t got no talent. An’ there ain’t no shit I can do ’bout that coz I ain’t no muthafuckin’ magician.’
Joelyn broke off his hold and walked to the living room. He followed behind her.
‘How old’s she?’ Joelyn asked, pouring herself some Cristal from a bottle into a glass she found lying idle in the room. She sat down on a canary yellow leather couch.
‘Don’t know,’ replied Raizer T, shrugging. He sat down next to her. ‘20…21…22…somewhere there. What do you care?’
Joelyn gulped down the champagne. ‘She’s so beautiful. It just seems so unfair for her to be wasting her life doing porn.’
‘I’ve always maintained that there is a thin line between being rich and being poor. For many poor folk out there, it’s just a push in the right direction that’s needed in order to be big in life. But life’s about opportunities and a great deal of luck. Have you ever wondered if A hadn’t happened then you wouldn’t be in B? Just like me, if I hadn’t had a break I could’ve stayed dealing drugs on the streets and right now I could either be dead or rotting in jail. It’s just the mathematics o’ life. Sometimes shit works, and sometimes it don’t. There’s lots of talented people out there who will never reach their dreams because they will never get the opportunity and the luck, just as there’s many people without talent making a lot of dough only because they’re in a good place in life, and I don’t mean no offence to you.’
Joelyn said nothing.
‘Many people died for this rap shit, Jo. And now that it’s gone mainstream people should stop the violence and just make money from the music. I have become major, so much that I’ve got companies like Reebok making sneakers in my name. They’re makin’ money off of me and I’m makin’ off them, cuz it’s business. I ain’t bragging, but I’m just showing you that I ain’t no typical air-brained rapper. I got a fashion line, I got my own whisky distillery, I got investments in real estate, and I’ve stocks in some tech companies. I could leave the rap game any day now and still be rich. But I don’t, because this music made me what I am. And I stay loyal t
o the game.’
Joelyn remained silent.
Raizer T got up, disappeared for a while and returned to the living room smoking a joint of marijuana. The pungent smell hit Joelyn’s nostrils instantly. He sat down beside her, dragged hard on the cigarette and handed it to her. She shook her head. ‘Take it,’ he urged. ‘It’s good weed.’
Reluctantly, she took it, placed it between her lips and pulled in the smoke. It hit her lungs like a fireball and she coughed uncontrollably.
‘Slowly,’ said Raizer T. He took the joint from her and placed it between his lips. ‘Like this.’
He handed it back to her and she dragged slowly at it. The smoke coursed through her insides and seeped into her bloodstream. An instant euphoria engulfed her. She dragged harder at the joint and closed her eyes as a tingling sensation began at her loins. Raizer T took off his jacket and shirt. He had two names written in cursive on each side of his chest. She stared at his naked torso. ‘You have a clean body,’ she said with a naughty smile.
He pulled the joint from her fingers and pulled on it hungrily. He trapped the smoke inside his mouth and then swallowed it after a moment. ‘My mother hated tattoos. Still does. Would kill me if she ever saw me with one. So I only have these.’ He turned, and she noticed that he had two more names in cursive on each of his shoulder blades, and another one at the top of his left shoulder in Japanese or Chinese – she was not sure – characters. ‘They’re the names of my children. And this one on the shoulder is Shawn, the last born, in Japanese.’
‘Cute.’
Raizer T made one last long pull at the almost burnt-out cigarette and then killed it on an ashtray on the coffee-table. He leaned towards her and they kissed. He shoved a hand between her thighs and groped…‘Wait,’ she cried. ‘I have to go to the bathroom.’
The Brand Page 7