by Pynk
“What are you doing? And what are you doing up?”
“I couldn’t sleep worrying about you. Call me later. I’m gonna try and get some sleep. Bye.” He simply hung up in her face.
She looked at the display on her phone screen that said, Call ended.
Valencia took a deep breath.
She wore a vertical frown line between her eyes the entire way home.
All the while, her heart beat fast like something bad was bound to happen.
Her untamed desires were getting harder to handle.
She sighed. Yes, something is bound to happen. And soon.
9
“Candy Shop”
Brandi
Two of the words spoken by her newfound friend, Teela, banged around in Brandi’s usually curious head. Glory hole.
Yes, curiosity had its usual stronghold on Brandi while she strolled inside her local sex shop on Hollywood Boulevard the next evening. The stand-alone building was black and white inside, with pink and blue rows of track lighting. It resembled a small strip club. Chains and whips and handcuffs hung from the ceiling. Black and white photos of nudes in bondage graced the walls all around. The store was called Kinky. And Brandi was a regular.
It was late afternoon after a long day at her middle school. The sun had almost made its descent. Brandi had decided to make the visit that her unrelenting voice of wonder insisted she make. Her bad side dared her to check out what it was that was so ultrasatisfying about a glory hole that Teela knew about so intensely, but Brandi didn’t.
“How are you, lady?” asked the middle-aged worker behind the counter. He had cryptic tattoos on his forehead and neck.
Brandi was upbeat. “I’m good, thanks for asking. And you?”
“Good. Good. Nice to see you again. Can I help you find anything?”
“No. Just looking, that’s all.”
“No problem.”
“Thanks, though. I appreciate it.” Brandi’s wide smile was for him, even though she aimed her sights at the many devilish products displayed along the glass shelves.
She examined the multicolored bottles of scented lube, the jet-black King Kong dildos, the vibrating clit stimulators and pocket pussies, then headed over to the video rental section, picking up and eyeing the orgy movies in particular. She browsed and browsed subjects ranging from hairy vaginas to Asian honeys, then saw a machine labeled Upstairs Video Tokens. Her smile dropped.
She pulled a bill from her ivory purse. Just when the man behind the counter stepped up to assist a customer, she stepped to the token machine, inserted a five-dollar bill, grabbed the large coin, and darted up the short flight of creaky and worn wooden stairs.
Brandi stood at the very top step, wearing her conservative pumps, and peeked to the left and then to the right and then to the left again. Stale and musty was the smell. She fought to ignore it.
With enough curiosity to kill her cat, she took a slow-moving step to the left. The first stall was occupied and the door was locked. The lock on the second stall was broken. The third was the charm. It had a shiny new brass lock, a functioning TV monitor and a nice, large hole in the wall. She entered with caution and flicked the sliding lock behind her.
She hung her purse on the doorknob and removed her lavender wrap dress, hanging it on a rusty door hook. She stepped up to the monitor, inserted the token and pressed play. It was an old movie with nothing but close-up fuck scenes. She then took a couple of steps to the wall and peeked through the hole. It was about the size of a saucer. She took a deep breath. Her rush started to take over at what she saw.
A skinny, hairy man stood before his own video screen with his pants to his ankles. His stiff dick was in both hands. He stroked his Johnson with his right hand with his legs apart, jerking himself for dear life while lusting over the woman on the TV screen, who was receiving anal sex from a woman with a major strap-on.
His face showed his turn-on. He eyed down the movie as he panted, and then his gaze shifted to the hole, which was shared by the occupant from stall number three. He sped up his jack-off pace even more now that he knew he had an audience. His face remained serious and his hand movements remained vigorous.
Brandi took a small step back as he took a big step forward and placed his penis into the hole, dropping one hand to his side. Brandi’s hand took hold of his white shaft; she brought her mouth to his dick, opening wide, and began to blow him hard. She placed her right hand between her own legs and gave a wetness check, flicking the juices that seeped from her opening. As she sucked the thin stranger’s tall dick, she finger-fucked herself deeper and faster while he flexed his ass muscles, pumping deeper into and out of her mouth with a fury. She licked him and placed short sucks to his tip. His moans grew louder than the volume of his porno movie.
She slipped into a quiet, slow-moving orgasm that spilled from inside her pussy like a melting ice cube. His pumping ceased, and the thick veins of his ashen dick visibly throbbed. Brandi backed her head away, and he removed his dick from the hole and spewed his sperm onto his hand, grunting like he was trying to lift a five-hundred-pound barbell.
Five minutes later, Brandi was in her red Camaro and on her way home.
Now she knew the glory behind the hole.
Her curiosity was kinkily contented.
Again.
10
“Your Sweetness Is
My Weakness”
Miki
Miki, the elder of two daughters, born to parents who’d now been married forty long years, was thirty-four years old, even though she looked an entire generation younger. She met her boyfriend, Tariq Thomas, two years ago at the hotel where she worked, when he and his team were in town for a play-off game. The team had booked a block of rooms for a few days. He slept with Miki the second day they were in town. She spent her lunch hour in his room and worked him like he was running up and down the football field.
He played arena football in Atlanta, but a few months after they met, he moved to Los Angeles to work as a sports agent, and Miki couldn’t have been happier. By then her son was four and she and her son’s dad, Anthony, had long ago ended their relationship due to Miki’s infidelities. He blamed it on the fact that he met her at a strip club. She blamed it on the fact that he couldn’t handle what she called the boomerang.
Tariq knew when he laid eyes on Miki in the hotel lobby that fall that he had found the one. He was hooked at first glance. And she was good in the sack. To him, his mission to find a good woman was accomplished.
It was a clear and sunny Friday morning, as smog free as it had been in a while in L.A. The slick sun slid through the thick slats of the natural shutters. The large blades of the Casablanca kitchen fan spun through the air, on guard to fight off the day’s upcoming heat.
Miki spoke into her cell. “Hey baby. What’s up?” she asked, after sipping her morning orange juice from a small carton in her tiny kitchen. She sat upon the suede bar stool at the caramel Corian counter. She’d just taken a long shower. A large, sunny-yellow towel was all she wore; it was tucked just under her arms, ending at the level of her sepia upper thighs. Her hair was in a banana clip.
“Not much. Just about to head to the office.”
“Already? You just left here an hour ago,” she told Tariq.
“Hey, I’m showered and changed, and already in the car.”
“Wow, Mister. You move fast.”
“Shoot. I got that Miki energy boost. I think we ought to get you a deal with a beverage company and name an energy drink after you called Good-Good, and make some damn money. Well, not literally, but hell, you know what I mean,” he kidded. “Holy shit!”
“Very funny. But if that’s the case, you should do the same.” She heard a call-waiting tone. “Hey, can you hold on a minute?”
“Sure,” he replied.
She pressed Answer. “Hello.”
“Hello back. Good morning, beautiful,” Robert said. His voice was slow yet upbeat.
“Hi, Bob. When can I meet you?”
“Well, Rose isn’t staying in Santa Barbara with our daughter anymore. I think my daughter’s in denial. Rose is now here in the Venice Beach house, so I want to stay nearby and keep an eye on her. I can’t leave her alone for too long unless a nurse is here. I can meet you somewhere around here. Even within the hour if you can.”
“I can’t. I’ve gotta wait here until Anthony brings T.J. home. He’s had him since Sunday, so he’s bringing him home in a minute.”
“Oh. Don’t you have to go to work today?”
“No. I took the day off. I’ve just got a few things to do. And T.J.’s off, so I want to spend some time with him.”
“I see. Listen, maybe I can just come by there later on tonight once he’s gone to sleep.”
She readjusted her towel under her arms. “No. How about if T.J. and I meet you for lunch today in your area? Maybe over on Washington, like at Killer Shrimp. Is that okay?”
“Okay, our old spot. That’ll work. I can run out for an hour or so. Maybe around one o’clock. How’s that?”
“That’s good. How much do you have, anyway? Money I mean,” she asked.
“You said three thousand, right.”
She corrected him. “I said thirty-five hundred.”
“Oh. Well, maybe I can give you the rest later on. I’m pretty sure I can sneak by late.”
“No. Like I said, not tonight. But three thousand is fine.” She remembered her other call and spoke quickly. “Listen, I almost forgot. I’m on the other line. I’ll see you at one.”
“See you then.”
“Bye.” She exhaled a sigh and then clicked back over, talking slower. “Hello.”
“I’m here.”
She shifted her tone by a notch. “Okay. Sorry about that.”
“Who was that?”
“Oh that was just Anthony. Remember I told you he’s bringing T.J. back today?”
“Oh yeah. What time is he coming?” Tariq asked.
“Actually, they’ll be here in a minute.”
“All right. Well, you enjoy your day off. Tell T.J. I said hey.”
“I will. Are you still coming by tonight?”
“You know it,” he confirmed.
“Good.”
“I love you, baby.”
“I love you too, baby.”
She disconnected the call and placed her iPhone on the bar when another call rang. It read Front Gate. She pressed 9.
She stood barefoot upon the off-white level-loop carpeting and rushed around to toss the empty bottles of Corona she and Tariq had devoured until the wee hours of the morning, and then hurried to the bathroom to brush her teeth.
Moments later she heard Knock, knock.
Miki sprinted to the front door, toothbrush still in her mouth, undid the latch, and turned the knob.
With excitement filling his eyes, the voice of little T.J.—short for Tony Jr.—leapt before she could fully get the door open. “Hey, Mom. Guess what? Dad bought me a SpongeBob SquarePants watch. Look.” He burst inside, holding up his wrist and opening and closing the yellow flip top. Then he removed his tennis shoes, tossing them upon the blond bamboo entryway floor. His blue soccer-team shirt had his last name on the back—his father’s last name, Santonio.
Anthony Santonio watched his elated son, who was his spitting image from his wavy hair to his red skin, and stepped inside, closing the door behind himself. He pulled off his shoes as well.
“That’s nice,” Miki said with a mixture of saliva and toothpaste in her mouth. She did not fully eye Anthony, and stepped away. “No need to take your shoes off,” she said while giving him her back. She reentered the bathroom, leaning over the black marble vessel sink, where she rinsed and spit. She turned on the brass faucet, rinsing again and brushing her tongue.
She heard his deep voice behind her. “So, what’s up with you?”
“Nothing, Anthony. Why?”
“Just wondering what you guys are doing today since T.J. doesn’t have school and you’re off work.”
“I don’t know. We’ll probably head to lunch and maybe the park. Why?”
“Just asking,” he said, as he closed the door and slowly locked it.
Miki grabbed the bottle of cocoa butter lotion from the sink and sat upon the side of the roman tub.
Anthony sniffed slowly, taking in the scent that soaked the air as she rubbed the cream over her bare legs. He crossed his arms and watched. “You sure smell good. I love the way that smells on you. Always have.”
“Thanks.”
“You need help with that?” he asked. His eyes looked pathetically willing to accommodate.
She put one hand up and cut her eyes. “No, Anthony, I don’t. Now don’t start.”
“Don’t start what? I just wanna help you out.”
“Well, I don’t need any help.”
“Are you sure?” he asked, sounding half-sexy as he leaned down and rested his knees upon the warm russet ceramic tile, smack dab in front of her. “You usually do.”
“Anthony.” She took a deep breath, dropping her shoulders.
“Anthony, what?”
She shook her head. “Not today.”
“Why not today?”
“I’m tired. That’s all. Just…”
He kissed her eyelid softly and she closed both eyes for two seconds. But she opened them as he retreated from her face. She just looked at him.
“Just what?” he asked. He undid the towel from her chest, and it fell behind her. He stared at her full breasts as they hung free. With one hand he strummed her large nipple with his thumb, rolling it along the hardening tip, and with his other hand he rubbed her elongated calf, moving his hand up to massage the shape of her curvy thigh. He leaned in toward her hairline and kissed her forehead. Her damp hair smelled of garden rain shampoo. He moved his head back and simply stared.
Miki stared at him as well. He was good looking, like a shorter version of Rick Fox. He wore dark blue Enyce jeans and a white and blue T-shirt. She was six inches away from his face and he was eyeing her down. She could smell his spearmint breath as his hand found her pussy lips. She leaned her head back and sighed.
She felt him lower himself down more and heard him say, “Relax.”
“Anthony.”
This time he replied with his tongue.
His tongue upon her middle.
His lips upon her juicy split.
Her legs separated involuntarily as though giving permission for him to continue.
She shut her eyes again and leaned back even more against the tub’s ceramic surface.
T.J.’s voice sounded from the other side of the bathroom door. “Mommy. Mommy can I have some ice cream?”
“Huh?” she asked, half-concentrating.
“Mommy, I want some ice cream, please.”
“It’s too early for ice cream. Go in your room and wait.”
“Where’s Daddy?”
“Tony, go,” she yelled insistently, trying not to sound breathless, while Anthony didn’t miss a beat.
T.J.’s footsteps could be heard stomping away, along with a grunt and a whimper.
And Miki made a sound of a whimper herself. Whimpering because her baby’s daddy always knew just how to find her clit and bring her to a climax in record time. And whimpering for the fact that for the life of her, she couldn’t resist what he was still willing to do to her.
Her legs quaked and she came in his mouth as usual, always harder than she had with other men. His face departed upon her last throb. Her legs trembled for another second.
He allowed her to catch her breath and then stood up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He poked his chest out farther than before he’d walked in.
Miki shook her head, as if to shake herself from his pussy powers, and sat forward, putting her towel back around her chest. “Damn, your dumb ass does know your way around a vagina.”
“Unlike any other you will ever meet. Bank it.”
She scooted forward and contin
ued lotioning herself. “Maybe. Maybe not. But I’ll tell you one thing. Your significant other’s gonna kick your ass one day if she ever finds out. You need to stop fucking around on that girl.”
“You need to stop fucking around on that boy.”
“Good-bye, Anthony.”
Miki’s eyes shifted to his crotch as he adjusted his obvious hard-on beyond his jeans. He simply walked out, closed the bathroom door, said his good-bye to his son, and left.
Anthony always had been able to bring on the millisecond orgasms. And she knew she would probably always let him do his thing.
It wasn’t hurting her.
It was on him.
He was the one who violated his marriage vows.
Not her.
She hadn’t made any vows, and as far as she was concerned she never would.
* * *
Miki pulled up to the concrete building on the corner near Venice Beach with the bright red capital letters that read Killer Shrimp. Little T.J. was strapped in the backseat. It was just before 12:55 p.m. and the heat of the day was at its height.
Robert Levine was already sitting in his bloodred Ferrari Enzo talking on the phone. The new sports car was just one of his many high-end automobiles. His Ferrari vanity plate read 24KGOLD, which was appropriate, being that he made a ton as the owner of a chain of very successful jewelry stores. His other cars had 14KGOLD and 18KGOLD on their plates.
He waved and smiled as Miki pulled up next to him, then he disconnected his call, stepping out in a hurry.
He opened her door before she could even prepare to exit and stood with the bright sun shining upon the top of his salt-and-pepper head. Miki took his hand as she exited, coming close to his tall, thin, but muscular body and meeting his puckered lips with a peck. He wore rust dress shoes and brown matching shirt and slacks.
“You look beautiful,” he said as their faces parted. He eyed her from head to toe as she stood before him in jeans shorts, a white tank top, and sage Marc Jacob flip-flops.
“Thanks, Bob.” She adjusted her Louis Vuitton tote over her shoulder. One that he’d given her.