by Pynk
She placed her hands along the front of his pants zipper and moved her head downward to kiss him in the exact spot as if she knew his dick personally. But they were strangers.
He backed her away, placing his hands on her shoulders, and tapped her ass. Her mulatto cheek gave a short bouncy-bounce in reply. “You touch me when I say you touch me,” he yelled in domination.
“Yes, sir,” she replied with apologetic eyes that dropped to her feet. “I’ve been bad.”
He pulled his arm all the way back and met her nutmeg flesh with an abrupt, punishing pop.
She erupted in a loud scream and grabbed her wide, sagging titties, biting her lip and yelling, “More, more. Give it to me just like that again. Give it to me the way a good master should.” She played the submissive well.
This city of sin was alive and crackin.
Milan, now working the rooms all by herself, walked into the blue room and struck up a conversation with a middle-aged couple.
The man said, “I had no idea what to expect until we walked through the door.”
“I see. So what do you think?”
“It’s different.”
“Yes it is. Just do your first time looking around and see if you like it. If you do, I hope to see you back again. It would be a shame to waste that membership fee.”
The man looked unsure.
His conservatively dressed woman said, “Oh, I don’t know who he thinks he’s kidding. Trust me. We’ll be back.”
Just as the woman said that, and she and her husband shared a laugh with Milan, Milan glanced behind them, over at the spanking bench. To her surprise, the woman who was being dominated so completely looked very familiar.
Lavender walked up to Milan and stood next to her.
Milan told the couple as they started to walk away, “Thanks for coming.”
The woman said, “Nice meeting you.” They continued to take in their surroundings.
Milan’s eyes remained on the naked woman who was getting her ass beat. “Lavender, do you know who that lady is over there?”
Lavender looked. His mouth dropped. He picked it up. “Oh no. Is that Beverly from church?”
“In the flesh.”
Lavender inquired, “Damn, she didn’t even ask for you?”
Milan grinned, scratching the back of her neck with her long, red fingernails. “From the looks of it, I don’t think she cares about being friendly with either one of us tonight.”
“Damn, who was it that said never trust a woman in a church dress?”
Milan looked away and took a step. “Backsliders need love, too. Besides, we all have freak potential. Let’s go. I don’t know about you, but I ain’t seen nothing. Vegas rules.”
Lavender looked away and said, “Seen what? I ain’t seen nothin either. Beverly who?”
20
“Jack U Off”
Friday, April 18, 2008
4:52 a.m.
Very early in the morning, a soft, golden, artificial light filled the room.
The sound of ice cubes cracking under the pressure of warm cognac soaked the air. Tamiko prepared a drink at the leather wet bar in her bedroom. She turned to view Jarod, who’d just arrived from work. He sat on the end of her bed taking off his shoes.
“Do you want anything?” she asked as the natural rose oil gave off its sweet scent.
“No. You go right ahead. It’s too late for that.”
Tamiko swirled the dark liquid in a circle and stepped toward him. She took a sip. “How’d it go?” Her aqua teddy was skintight.
“Uneventful. But the club’s been packed every night recently.”
“So no more drama?”
“No.”
“Good.” She sat next to him. “Do you always think of Erotic City as uneventful?”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m just not sure how a sex club is ever uneventful.”
“It’s just routine.”
“So, you’re like immune to it or something?”
“Pretty much.”
“I can’t even imagine that.”
“I still can’t believe you’ve never been curious about what happens there.”
“Not in the least.”
“That’s somethin. How’d your mama and daddy raise such different daughters?” he asked.
“I can’t tell you.”
“Interesting.” He rubbed his eyelids and leaned back against two quilted pillows.
She turned back toward him. “You look tired.”
“Like I said, it was busy as hell.” He looked over at her as she took another sip, eyeing her wardrobe choice. “You know I’m not too tired though.”
“That’s why I woke up. I know you.”
He worked his way to a stance. “I’ll be right back. I need to take a piss and take off these clothes that smell like smoke and sex.”
“I’ll be right here.” Her third sip was the last of it. It was strong. But she put her glass down, lay back along the bed, and allowed its strength to take over her head.
It was the tail end of o-dark-thirty in the morning. Another ten minutes and the sun would begin to show. Jarod and Tamiko were deep into position number four. Tamiko’s grind downshifted into half the energy. She lay under him, being pumped by his lengthy dick like her pussy was created as a vessel for only his penetration. As he plunged into her, he grunted and groaned and began to sweat. She held her breath every time he went too deep. And suddenly, Jarod rolled off and stood next to the bed with his demanding dick pointing her way. He put his hands along his waist and stood with his feet far apart.
Tamiko stood in front of him, and knelt down at his feet. She took hold of his thickness while lowering her mouth over the head of his cock. She flattened her tongue and licked the top portion of his penis like it was a blow pop, and began her deep throat maneuvers, making sure to focus on his head. She gave double-handed strokes to his shaft while she sucked.
Jarod ground strongly, flexing his large, muscular ass. He moved one hand behind her head to make sure the precision of her movement was consistent and straight on, just for one good, long minute. She felt him swell and he grunted as loud as she’d ever heard him grunt before. His fluid spilled. First a quick creamy shot, and then two long squirts. Her mouth was full of his warm sperm. She pulled away to swallow. As the final rem-nants of his load seeped, he looked down at her and patted her on the head.
“Good girl.”
Tamiko inched to a stance and wiped her mouth. Jarod held on to his dick while she headed to the kitchen. The new light of morning licked the other side of the maple kitchen blinds. She’d only had three hours’ sleep after waking up to be with Jarod.
“Hey, baby, bring me some water, would you?” he asked from the bedroom.
Tamiko poured herself a cold glass of fruit punch and sipped it slowly while glancing into nowhere. Once she finished, she grabbed a bottle of water, closed the refrigerator door, and headed back to her man who had collapsed on his side of her bed.
There was the man who she’d claimed as her own for the past year. The man who she’d made such a point of pleasing. The man who she’d gotten used to. To her, this was the way sex with him needed to be. He was faithful, even though he was hard to please. But she continued to please him. Even at six o’clock in the morning. After all, he was her man. He belonged to her. And she wanted to keep him.
21
“Miss Thang”
Friday, April 25, 2008
3:28 p.m.
Milan’s mind was occupied. Her ears were buzzing with drama. Even the few cups of extraleaded black coffee didn’t help. She stood in her kitchen while looking out of the window at the beautiful, cottonlike clouds. The afternoon sight didn’t match the tone that buzzed in her ears. Later that afternoon, she and Lavender were scheduled to meet their lawyer for dinner regarding the case against the club. Her first stop, though, was the radio station for an interview with Diva Sexton. But as for right now, she had a crazy phone call to
finish up with. Nothing else crept into her mind other than her conversation.
It was the nightmarish, annoying, foolish voice that belonged to Ramada Hart that was speaking as though she wrote the book on how to be a total, unadulterated bitch. “You know what? You’re just gonna have to deal with me,” Ramada warned as though she were a female dog, like she was yipping and yapping at a passing car.
Milan said with a tense jaw, “Believe me, I do not have to deal with anything. Especially you.”
“First of all, I have been in Lavender’s life for more than ten long years. And I’m not going anywhere.”
“Whatever. You’re the one who insists on calling my home even after we’ve told you not to. So if you’re sure you’re not going anywhere, then why are you making such a fool out of yourself? You can’t stop me from being his woman.”
“But I can stop you from playing mother to my son. And mark my word, just like I used to be his woman, one day you’ll be is ex, too. Lavender can’t be faithful to one woman longer than a couple of years before he starts getting ants in his pants. He did it with me and he’ll start itching on you, too. Believe me, you’ll get boring soon enough. And just like me, you’ll find the only way to keep him is to fuck other women right along with him.”
“That is some crazy shit. You did that because your bisexual ass wanted to. After all those years, I don’t think you know Lavender at all.”
“Call it what you want to. What I do know is, that man will never make an honest woman out of anyone.”
“So if you know that, what are you so worried about? According to you, he’ll be free soon. And besides, I’m satisfied just the way it is. And since he’s been through so much after losing his parents and his grandfather and then his boxing career, if you were there the whole time, then you should know that he doesn’t need the crap you put him through. And you’re using his son against him all because you can’t have him. That’s just a damn shame.”
“What’s a damn shame is that you have to give a man a fucking job to be with you. And that the only way you can make a damn living is to run a whorehouse for people to fuck. But then again, that goes along well with the fact that you’re a damn ho anyway.”
“Oh, so I’m the ho, huh? You, Miss Swinger Atlanta herself, who was fucking anything that moved while you were with him, and then you plotted to come in the club exactly one year to the day after you lost him, the night all this shit hit the fan, sucking dick and eating pussy like you lost your damn mind, and I’m the ho?”
“I was a victim while in your place of business. Hell, you should be paying me for making your club more popular, so get it right. By the way, can you spell contributory negligence?”
“I can spell crazy-ass bitch. And the only victim was that poor man who came in the club with you who seemed like he really cared about you. You put him in the middle of all this shit, pretending like he was your boyfriend, all in the name of trying to make Lavender jealous. You are really sick.”
“You know nothing about me or him. And you have lost your damn mind if you think I’m gonna sit back and let you end up being my son’s stepmother, cookin him tired-ass spaghetti after you stole Lavender from me last year. That’ll never happen. That much I’ll make damn sure of. I promise.”
“What will never happen is you calling here again. Get all your calls in today because as of tomorrow, this number will be changed. Good-bye.”
Milan slammed down the phone and closed her eyes. Her heart sped up too fast for her breaths. She steadied her windedness and stood still. She looked out of the window again. “What in the hell am I doing?” Milan snatched her shiny leather handbag from the counter and headed out the door, slamming the door shut behind her.
She hopped in her ride, backed out of the driveway, and fought to get her head together. She popped in a tape of a sermon by Pastor Michael on Provoked into Good, and drove slowly, only taking in the words, and only focusing on reversing her foul mood.
The funky mood she’d allowed herself to be shoved into.
22
“Living in a Glass House”
Friday, April 25, 2008
5:01 p.m.
With a glass partition between them, Milan sat across from ashen-skinned and dark-haired, nationally syndicated radio host Diva Sexton, who made the introductions. Milan wore studio headphones and prepared to speak into the microphone just under her chin. One of the show’s producers stood up against the wall, just in front of Milan so that he could direct her if necessary. It was a peak-hour show with thousands and thousands of drive-time listeners.
The Diva’s voice was always high-pitched and hyper. “I’ve asked you to come on today mainly to address the controversial issues regarding your swingers club, called Erotic City, which has been in the news quite a bit lately. First of all, can you give us a brief rundown of what happened recently regarding the charges against the club?”
“Well, I think it’s public knowledge that one of our members accused another member of allegedly assaulting them with a deadly weapon, though this has not been proven.”
“And what was the club charged with.”
“Negligence. But that’s all I can say.”
“Okay, well, I’ll move aside from the legal aspects and ask you a question from a moral standpoint, just as far as swinging is concerned. I’ve looked over some of the e-mails we’ve received from our listeners in the past day or so, and the one question most have asked is, do you encourage safe sex at your club? Seems that’s a big concern.”
“Yes we do. The health department of Georgia has strict guidelines that we must adhere to. But honestly, I would make sure that we encouraged safe sex even if it wasn’t required. There are condoms available at the front door and in every room of the club, including the restrooms. We keep them all around, in large bowls, and we encourage people to use them.”
“Do you require it?”
“No. We could never fully enforce that.”
“So how does it work—I mean people come into the club and pay the membership fee, show ID, and then what?”
“You can walk around and dance and drink, which is on a BYO basis. As soon as you walk in, you might see people having sex. And the great thing is that it’s up to you as to whether or not you want to do anything.”
“And how does one go about doing that?”
“There are certain ways to approach people. If you see someone you like, you should strike up a conversation first, though some simpy ask, Do you play?”
“Interesting. And what if they do?”
“You head off to a room and enjoy yourselves.”
“And what if they say they don’t want to play.”
“Then you respect that and move on. No absolutely means no. And most people adhere to the rules.”
“So you’re likely to just see people naked and having sex right there.”
“Yes. Some people leave their door open and some don’t. Some will have sex right where they are. Most of our members are over thirty and pretty mature. I believe that a lot of them, the ones who are there with their mates, are in fairly secure relationships and they have a great deal of trust between them. But there are some exceptions.”
“Are you an active swinger yourself?”
“I’m in the lifestyle, and I’m in a relationship with some- one. We agreed that we have no desire to be with other people. I guess I get my fill just from being around it all.”
“I’ll bet. And we know, your significant other is former boxer Lavender Lewis, right?”
“Yes.”
“I will say that you two make a great couple.”
“Thank you, Diva.”
“So let me ask you, do you encourage people to at least try it?”
“No, not everyone can separate love and sex. It’s not for everybody.”
“Okay, well let’s take some calls. The phones are ringing off the hook. Line one, you’re on 107.2 Let’s Talk. What’s your name and your question for Milan Kennedy?”
“Hello, Ms. Kennedy. My name is Willow. I wanted to ask, how did you get into this business?”
“Hi, Willow. I guess I got familiar with the world of group sex when I was younger. There was a house around the corner from where I grew up that had these orgy parties. I’d see cars wrapped around the corner for blocks. Some of my friends in the neighborhood found out what was going on and we’d gossip about it. I was maybe sixteen. Later, I did actually go into that house. And years later, after going through some very personal things, I thought about opening a business. I just wasn’t the dress-shop-and-coffeehouse-type girl. I ran into a friend of mine while I was out partying in Smyrna one night who told me that the club next door was a sex club called Club Fellatio. I ended up talking to the owner for over an hour. One year later, Erotic City was opened.”
Diva Sexton asked, “So, to you, the world of sex was like, nothing shameful or wrong?”
“I grew up believing that good girls can have sex without guilt. My mother taught me to be an out-of-the-box thinker. She was part of the sexual revolution in the sixties, so I’ve always been very open minded.”
“We have another caller. Line three, go ahead. What’s your name and your question please?”
“My name is Lori. Miss Kennedy, so you believe that it’s okay for single women to explore their bodies?”
“Yes, I do. And married women, too.”
“Of course you do know that some women have been abused at a young age. Some women have been raped and molested. Some women have a difficult time with the concept of pleasure.”
“Yes. I understand that. And please keep in mind that I am not a therapist. But, for those who are already enjoying sex, but would just like a little bit more variety, or want to try to live out a fantasy, I think those people should give themselves permission to talk about and learn about their bodies, learn about how to feel good by pleasing themselves. Sex is meant to be pleasurable. I think sex between consenting, twenty-one-and-over adults should be fun.”