Chaz wielded his tongue like a sword, darting in and around hers, playfully increasing her arousal. He mimicked the sexual act with it, before pulling it out, nibbling her lips, and plunging in again. The woman moaned, turned herself more fully into him. She pressed her breasts against his hard chest, threw a supple thigh over his.
She’d never experienced such ecstasy and knew that if the man could get her this crazy with just a kiss, the night would be exceptional, beyond her wildest dreams. Her hand fell to his hard chest and her arm brushed the tip of his rocklike erection. Intuitively, she knew it was long and thick, and soon it would be inside her. There was no doubt that this man was an ardent, thorough lover. He would be the best she’d ever had. She reached for his massive weapon, but once again, Chaz stayed her hand.
“Please,” she whispered. “I want to feel it, lick it, suck it into my mouth.”
Chaz shushed her with a kiss, and as he did so, his mind was in overdrive, thinking of who might this be. Delicia was eliminated when he reached out for the woman’s neck and then slid his hand down a slim, taut bare arm. The plush lips made Liz Stein an unlikely choice, since her lips were thin. Chaz continued swirling his tongue with the very capable kisser, and discovered he couldn’t recall what Lois’s lips looked like.
This thought brought Chaz out of the heated moment just as the woman tried yet again to stroke his prize. “Wait a minute,” he said, his voice as soft as his dick was hard. “Before we go any further, I’ve got to know who you are.”
There was a moment of silence before the woman removed her hand from where it rested on Chaz’s thigh. “You agreed that that could come later, after we’ve made love,” she whispered.
“I’ve changed my mind.”
Another pause. “Why?”
There were a number of reasons, but being the diplomatic debater that he was, he chose the most logical one. “It’s not fair that you know who I am, but I don’t know you. I find you mentally attractive, and can’t imagine that I wouldn’t find you physically so as well.”
Another long, silent moment passed before the woman spoke. “Do you promise to make love to me, even after you discover who I am?”
“I can’t promise that.”
“Chaz, I’ve waited for a long time. Please.”
“Look, I’m ninety percent sure I’ll make love to you. It’s what I want to do. But the remaining ten percent of uncertainty is why this is as far as I’ll go, until I know you at least as well as you know me.”
The woman sighed. “All right then.” Her voice was low, though she didn’t whisper. “Turn on the light.”
Chaz rose from the bed and walked toward the lamp he’d spotted earlier when the room was being swept for devices. It sat on a nightstand next to the bed. He heard the sheets rustle and assumed that the woman had covered her body. Just before he turned on the lamp, Chaz reached down for his black briefs and did the same. The spontaneity of the moment was gone and part of the night’s thrill followed closely behind it. Chaz almost wished it weren’t so important to know the woman’s identity. He was as hard as a rock, and knew that if he didn’t have sex now, he’d have to see Taylor later.
“Are you ready?” he asked, his hand on the switch.
“Yes.”
Chaz turned on the lamp, and then slowly turned around. For a moment he was speechless, not believing who sat before him, with large, bared breasts, hard nipples, and both lust and vulnerability in her eyes.
“It’s nice to see you again, Chaz,” she said, her voice husky and as loud as she’d spoken all evening.
“Reverend Edwards?” Chaz tried without success to keep the incredulity out of his voice. His hard dick twitched its frustration before deflating as quickly as a punctured balloon. Even in its limp state, the massive outline remained clearly visible, a fact that didn’t go unnoticed by the lone observer.
Instead of showing what she initially felt, embarrassment, Reverend Beatrice Hallelujah Edwards defiantly tilted her chin, tossed off the sheet, and lay back on the bed—naked and not ashamed. “In the flesh,” she answered, through nervous laughter. “Literally.”
Chaz hadn’t stuttered a day in his life. But there was a first time for everything. “I-I don’t know what to say.”
“Baby, I didn’t come here to do much talking.”
Chaz was glad he’d put on his briefs, and now he reached for his T-shirt as well. “But I don’t understand. You’re a preacher, a pastor, you’re my assistant’s mother for God’s sake, you’re—”
“A woman who hasn’t known a man in almost thirty years,” Beatrice interrupted. “Yes, a minister who has lived the life she’s preached about, and a mother who’s raised her daughter the best she could. But in the process, I’ve lost that person who is most important—me. I’d resigned myself to living a life of abstinence and was doing a pretty good job of it. And then I met you.”
Chaz remembered their meeting at the Christmas party shortly after Lois was hired. They’d spoken only briefly, he recalled, and had not seen each other since that evening well over a year ago. He reached for his pants.
“Please, don’t,” Beatrice said as she sat up. “It’s been so long since I’ve seen a man, so long since I’ve touched. . . .” Her eyes moved from his face to the bulge between his thighs. She didn’t even realize when she licked her lips. Her eyes traveled upward. “I’ve got more to lose than you do,” she continued. “There’s no way I’d ever share what happens between us with anyone. You’ve got me so hot for you. Your kiss alone . . .” Beatrice scooted to the edge of the bed, reached out, and placed her hand squarely on Chaz’s manhood.
Chaz backed up. He hadn’t felt more like a piece of meat in his entire life.
“Please,” Beatrice again pleaded, her eyes wide, begging as well. When Chaz remained where he was, she slid to her knees, placed her face against his groin and inhaled deeply. She licked his shaft through the thin, soft cotton. His hungry dick awakened quickly, and began to grow. “Lord have mercy,” she said, reaching into his shorts like an excited child grabbing Halloween candy. She pulled down his briefs. His dick sprang up and popped her on the chin. “Ooh, Jesus,” she moaned, before opening her mouth wide and taking in as much as she could. She continued to moan as she licked and sucked or, more accurately, gobbled him up. She’d never experienced oral sex in her life, but having faith that this moment would indeed come to pass, as had been her prayer, she’d covertly purchased a couple of instructional videos. Had there been grades given, Beatrice would have gotten an A.
“Reverend Edwards.” The assault had happened so quickly, and felt so good, that Chaz’s reaction was delayed. But now that his upper head was catching up with his lower one, he knew this had to stop. “Reverend Edwards!”
“No,” she instructed, between licks, “call me Beatrice.”
“Beatrice, stop.” Chaz put a gentle, yet firm hand on Beatrice’s shoulder and pulled away from her. He placed his once again engorged shaft back behind fabric. It stood out like a sore thumb; a very big, long, sore thumb. “I can’t do this.”
“Why not?” Still on her knees, Beatrice moved toward him.
Chaz moved farther away. “Because it’s not right. I understand your wanting to feel like a woman again, but don’t you think there’s a better way? Like finding a Godly man and getting married, the way it appears you’ve taught Lois to do?”
“Let’s leave my daughter out of this,” Beatrice said in a tone that brooked no argument. She sat on the bed and wrapped the sheet around her. “I’m a grown woman who thought long and hard before writing that first letter. Actually, I’d written dozens of letters before then. It took me months to gather up the nerve to send one. But I’m glad I did. And I’ll be even happier once we finish what we’ve started.” She unwrapped the sheet again, exposing her furry, unshaven mound. “Come on, Chaz. It’s my birthday. And I want you to be my gift.”
Meanwhile, in various parts of town, there were other people thinking about Chaz, and at
least one other person thinking about birthdays.
Delicia sat in a movie theatre pigging out on hot dogs, popcorn, nachos, and fries. She’d gone by the law offices hoping to catch Chaz working late, but had driven into a near- empty parking lot and a security guard who’d firmly informed her that the offices were closed.
Gina smiled as she chatted with her date from Match. com. He wasn’t Chaz—her Mr. Right—by a long shot, but with his bald head, chocolate eyes, and smooth, dark skin, she believed that he might definitely end up being Mr. Right Now.
Liz sat across from Max at her parents’ dining room table, wondering where Chaz was and wishing she were with him. But as she watched her father, husband, and in-laws engage in political rhetoric, she knew that that was a wish that would never come true.
Jennifer sat home alone, having broken up with Antonio earlier in the day. Her husband bar had been set pretty high, and she wondered if anyone would ever come close to what she’d had. Her earlier call to Chaz had gone to voice mail. She reached for her phone, and it rang in her hand. It was the DJ from LIVE-FM. He wanted to be with her. She agreed. He was a capable lover. Jennifer needed loving, plain and simple, and tonight, would get it from him.
Naomi Stone had navigated O’Hare, secured her rental car, and now sang with the music as she drove toward Chaz’s house. She was sure that her visit would be as she’d stated, “when he least expected.”
And Lois sat in the church offices with Pastor Mack, trying for the third time to reach her mother.
“This is so unlike her,” Lois said as she hit her speed dial.
“Maybe she made her own celebration plans,” Pastor Mack suggested as he stared at Lois with newfound admiration. He couldn’t get over how good she looked. And that dress! Being twenty years older than the woman sitting across from him, this associate minister had never considered the possibility before. But now he thought he just might be ready to put his widowhood behind him, and put some sanctified moves on his reverend’s daughter.
“She never does anything special,” Lois countered. “She’s always here! And the one time I plan a surprise birthday party and have a dozen people waiting at the restaurant, she chooses to act out of character.” Lois put up her finger in a shushing manner. “Mom, where are you?”
“I see you’ve called several times,” Beatrice said, ignoring the question. “What’s wrong, Lois?”
At the same time Lois answered her phone, Chaz’s cell rang. He walked into the living room to answer it. “Hello?”
“Hey, baby. Where are you?”
“Naomi!”
“The one and only.”
Chaz spoke quietly. “Baby girl, it’s so good to hear your voice. Where are you?”
“In Chicago, across the street from your house.”
“You’re here?”
“Yes. I was planning to surprise you. Please don’t tell me you’re out of town.”
“Even if I were, I’d charter a plane to get back to you. As it is, I’m less than twenty minutes away. Your timing is perfect. And, baby,” Chaz said, his voice dripping with desire, “when I get there, I don’t want you wearing anything but a smile.”
Naomi laughed. “You want me to get undressed here, in my car, in public?”
“You’ve got a point. I guess I can wait until you’re one step inside my place. Then I’m going to wear you out.”
“Is that a threat?”
“It’s a promise.”
“Umm, I like the sound of it. But hurry up, man! You’ve got me wet.”
“And you’ve got me hard.”
“Then stop talking and start driving. I want you!”
“I want you, too, Naomi Stone, in more ways than one. And I plan to have you.” Maybe even for the rest of my life.
From One Lover to Another
Cydney Rax
1
If a Man Calls His Own Mama the B-Word, He Cannot Be with Me
At first she wasn’t sure, but when Lorraine Eafford heard her ex call his mama the b-word again, she knew she’d made the most important decision of her life. She’d broken up with Posse late last year, but her ex kept dialing her number. It didn’t matter that she told him, “That’s not happening,” when Posse asked if she thought they’d hook up again one day. He still called her using the sexy voice she’d previously loved to hear, and tried to coax her back into his life. Posse couldn’t accept that when Lorraine moved away from her hometown of Dallas where he lived, to Houston where he didn’t live, it was an indication she meant business. They were through. Period. Her feelings were cemented even more on a quiet Sunday afternoon.
Lorraine was at home alone in her one-bedroom apartment in the Westchase area of the city. She had just started running some steaming hot bathwater. The bottom of her garden tub was scattered with tiny lavender-scented body-soaking beads that when melted softened the water and provided relaxation for her aching slender body. Lorraine believed in working hard and staying busy, but there were times when she needed to de-stress and pamper herself. Sunday was one of those days.
While the tub filled with water, she rummaged through her walk-in closet searching for a sexy nightgown to wear once her bath was complete. But before Lorraine could pick out a cute nightie, her phone rang. She rushed to her night-stand where she last placed her smartphone. She thought it might be Joanna, her sister who still lived in Dallas. But when she noticed it wasn’t her sister but an unrecognizable number, she answered anyway.
“What’s up, my lady?”
Lorraine cringed when she heard her ex’s raspy voice. “Posse? I am not your lady anymore.”
“Man, don’t say that.”
“It’s the truth. I told you I’m all about pure truth now.”
“You need to get off the gas with dat new attitude, bring your fly ass back to Dallas, and chop it up with your boy.” While listening to him, she struggled with a mixture of desire and disgust. She pressed the phone against her ear and recognized Posse’s normal background noises. Familiar sounds that let her know that three months after their breakup, this guy was still caught up in the same old same old. Hanging out with five of his partners in a smoke-filled room. Playing dominoes. Getting high. Getting drunk. Talking shit. Wasting time.
Frustrated, she tried to respond, but he interrupted and ordered her to hold on. She heard a ringtone by Bushwick Bill of the Geto Boys, an H-town rapper who’d been known for his sexist and misogynistic lyrics. As soon as she heard the melody, she knew Posse’s cell phone was ringing. He’d obviously borrowed one of his boys’ phones to call her.
She listened in.
“Aw, Mama, you tripping. Nobody tearing up your damn house. Okay, okay, okay, we’ll turn down the music. Damn!” The background noise grew quieter. So did Posse. Lorraine heard his mother screaming at him through the phone.
“Mama, I ain’t trying to hear all dat, now I told you I—”
Mother and son continued to verbally sling it out. His volume increased a few decibels as he argued with the sixty-year-old woman.
Then Posse abruptly shut up.
Lorraine knew that, like a hundred times before, Posse’s mama had rudely disconnected the call and left him looking stupid.
“Fucking bitch,” she heard him mutter before he snapped the phone shut. He switched back to his boy’s phone and resumed talking to her in a normal tone. Color drained from Lorraine’s face. Posse’s disturbing encounter with his mama reminded her why she had to get away from him. It wasn’t that he’d ever referred to her by that awful name. But if a man called his own mother the b-word, she knew the name-calling wouldn’t stop at the woman who gave birth to him. And if a man had the nerve to talk about his mama with blatant disrespect, he wasn’t the man for her.
“Posse, may I ask you something?” she said, trying to shout over the din of all his partners, who began yelling and arguing with one another.
“Ask me anything, my lady.”
“Why do you talk to your mother so horribly?”
/> “What? Dude, don’t ask me something you don’t wanna know the answer to.”
Lorraine wanted to scream. He never answered a question directly. Or he’d often deflect her grilling. Lorraine wanted a man who wasn’t afraid to speak his truth even if it was something she might not want to hear. In her opinion, raw truth was always better than a dressed-up lie.
Exasperated, she blurted, “This is exactly why I had to burn out,” then realized her error. “I mean, this is precisely why I broke things off.” She hated herself for letting him influence her enough to talk his gutter language.
“Like I’ve tried to tell you a million times,” she continued, “we’re on two different pages. You know that. It was never going to work for the long term. I simply can’t handle your lifestyle.”
As she admitted her truth, her heart exploded with pain. She didn’t want to hurt him. But to not hurt him would mean hurting herself.
“So you sitting up here trying to tell me you didn’t like rollin’ wit me this past year, Lo? That you was acting fake all dat time we hung out, Lo?”
It hadn’t been that long ago when Lorraine had loved for Posse to call her by that shortened pet name. Back then she’d craved his slight Southern twang, his unique way with words. The fact that they were so different intrigued her and she was all ears. But she didn’t want to hear the slang anymore. These days she hated being called “Lo.” It sounded so ghetto.
Not that Lorraine wanted to be known as a snob. She just knew she wasn’t hood enough to feel comfortable dating a hood guy anymore. In the beginning of their relationship, Lorraine had a ball hanging out with Posse. He introduced her to a wild, adventurous, and borderline dangerous side of life that she had never been exposed to. The first time she visited him at brother Donnie James’s, she saw things that made her eyes widen. Young men barely out of their teens openly sold drugs in the presence of innocent five-year-old boys. She was amazed and repulsed at the same time.
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