Erotic City

by Pynk

“Wonderful. I’ll e-mail you the exact location information, including where to park. I know that area can be a zoo. And once you talk to your manager you give me a time that works best for you both. How does that sound?”

  “Sounds good, Rowena. And thanks so much.”

  “No, we thank you. I look forward to meeting you, Milan.”

  “I look forward to meeting you as well.”

  Milan finally pulled her feet away from the spot they’d been in, and she headed to the sofa and sat down. She grinned from ear to ear while she called Lavender as fast as she could.

  33

  “Hot Thing”

  Wednesday, May 21, 2008

  2:03 p.m.

  Milan was in overly excited mode. She looked up the sky and thanked the Lord over and over, out loud. “Thank you, Dear Lord, for all things.”

  The ride home seemed to fly as she was on the phone the entire time. She hung up when she put her car in park and hopped from her Mercedes, entering the kitchen from the garage and tossing her purse and portfolio onto the table.

  She kicked off her pumps and plopped down on the sofa in the den while dialing her sister.

  “Tamiko, I just stepped in the house from my meeting with the folks at WET TV. I would have called you earlier but I was talking to Lavender the whole way home.”

  Tamiko’s voice sounded animated. “I’ve been waiting to hear. How’d it go?”

  “Rowena’s really cool. And there were a couple of other execs there, too. And an attorney.”

  “Who went with you?”

  “It was just me and my manager, who ran it down. I barely had to say a word.”

  “And so, what happened? Tell me.”

  “It’s Erotic City, the series. And I’ll have show creator and producer credits.”

  “Milan, you have got to be kidding me.” Tamiko was keyed up.

  “Not.”

  “On the WET TV Network?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “You guys already sealed the deal?”

  “They made an offer and we took it, with just a couple of minor provisions. But it was a very good deal.” Milan leaned back and crossed her legs.

  “Oh my God. You’re about to blow up, sis. That is crazy. Starting when?”

  “We’ll get the official green light next week and then sign contracts. But they said they’d start casting right away. She said they want to use all unknowns. They plan to have the show ready for the new fall season.”

  Tamiko asked, “Are you writing, too?”

  “Only on the pilot episode. They have staff writers standing by.”

  “Oh my God. What did Lavender say?”

  “He’s in shock.”

  “Milan. Has it even hit you yet? And can you do all this? I mean come up with an episode idea for a show like that?”

  “Just watch me. One thing I know about is swinging.”

  “Please tell me the owner of the club in your show will be a woman.”

  “Of course. They want her name to be Shelby Garnett. She’ll be absolutely fabulous.” Milan snapped her fingers and waved her hand in the air.

  “That is hot. I’m so happy for you. My sister, the creator of a TV show. What about the club?”

  “It won’t take up that much time. Besides, Lavender’s got that.” Milan sprang to her feet and headed upstairs.

  Tamiko caught her breath. “Dang. Everything you touch turns to gold.”

  “Not quite. But I do know one thing. You and me? We’re going to celebrate. I need to go to the Dana Buchman sale at Nordstrom Rack at your favorite place, the Mall of Georgia. I need to change out of this monkey suit and I’ll be there in twenty minutes. Be ready.”

  Milan and Tamiko stood in the Nordstrom store in the mall in Gwinnett County. Milan searched the rack, looking for dress pants, checking the bottom hem for the longest pair she could find. She asked as she flipped the tag over, “What size is this?”

  Tamiko frowned. “That is so last year.”

  “Why?”

  She pointed down. “Wide leg pants like that are out.”

  Milan took it from the rack and held it against her leg. “In is whatever fits. And this would fit me just perfectly. It’s long enough.”

  Tamiko looked her sister up and down. “You can fit into anything.”

  “Not with all these,” Milan said, squeezing her left breast.

  “Better than having all this.” Tamiko squeezed her left cheek. “This is why I don’t buy off the rack. I can’t wait to get my own line going.”

  “I’ve already told people about Cheekz. They think it’s already in the stores.” Milan replaced the pair and kept hunting.

  “I wish. I talked to the sales rep at Macy’s here in the mall and they just wanna see some samples, so I need to get with this seamstress next week. I finally talked to her.”

  “You’ve got the logo patented and the company all set up?”

  “All done.”

  “And once you show them the samples and they place their huge order, then what?”

  “Then I get them made in volume. I’ll probably use this factory this guy I know hooked me up with whose bulk prices are pretty reasonable.” Tamiko stepped to another rounder and Milan followed. “I’m keeping my product close by so I can have access to what’s going on. Hey. Let’s go to this sample store on the second level. I need to talk to the owner for a minute.”

  “Lead the way,” said Milan. “I’m all for my baby sister doing her thing.”

  Always the fashion plate, Tamiko flung her suede purse over her shoulder. She was dressed in a white skirt and a brown-and-white-striped zip-up shirt. Her pointy heels were deep brown. Milan had on pumps with light blue jeans and a gold tank.

  They walked stride for stride through the huge mall while Milan flipped through her BlackBerry and Tamiko kept one eye on the window view of every single store they passed.

  “Well, hello.”

  Tamiko looked to her left and said, “Hi.” She stopped.

  Milan stopped.

  “How are you?” a guy asked with a very deep voice.

  Tamiko replied while taking a closer look at his face, “I’m good. And you?”

  He took off his wide Oakley shades. “Good.”

  “You’re . . .” Tamiko stared at the young man who stood before her.

  Just as it hit her he said, “Kellen.”

  “Kellen, right?” She smiled upon remembering she’d named her dildo after him. “Hi. What are you doing here?”

  “Very good. You remembered. I’m just looking around. Need to pick up a few things. And you? Looking at fabric again?”

  “No, just headed to a sample store”

  Milan cleared her throat.

  “Oh, Kellen, this is my sister, Milan.”

  “Nice to meet you,” Milan said, extending her hand.

  “Kellen Battle. The pleasure is mine.”

  A moment passed and Tamiko said, “So, well, it was nice seeing you.”

  He asked, “Are you in a hurry?”

  Milan spoke up. “No, she’s not. I’m gonna pop in here for a second. I’ll be right back.” She stepped away into the Coach store.

  Kellen tugged on the rim of his black Yankees cap. “I don’t mean to hold you up. I just wanted to, well, ask you how’s the land of the beautiful and taken?”

  “Oh, I’m not on taken land anymore.”

  His expression brightened. “Oh really. I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “Oh no. It’s fine, really. He just surprised me, that’s all. You never know what someone is capable of doing, I guess.” Tamiko secured a few strands of stray hair behind her ear.

  “That’s true. How long were you together?”

  “Over a year.”

  “Wow. I know he’s thinking about what a mistake he made. At least I know I would be.”

  “Who knows? So what about you? What’s up with your love life?”

  “I was with someone for three years up until last summer. We were en
gaged and she decided she wanted to get some of her playing days out of her. She actually asked me to wait for her.” He glanced down at his black-and-white Adidas.

  “So you told her no, right?”

  “I did.” He looked up.

  Tamiko gave a sweet glance. “No doubt she came back quick.”

  “She did. But, hey. If the play was still in her, I’m sure she didn’t get rid of it in two weeks. I saw it as a sign. I date a little but not as much as most.”

  “Oh, so you just follow women into stores, huh?”

  A couple of guys walked by and noticed the way Tamiko was drawn. Tamiko missed it, but Kellen caught it.

  He grinned. “Actually, I wasn’t following you into the store. I was going in there, too.”

  “Why?”

  “I’m an assistant to Dirty South and a few other rappers when they tour. Basically, that means I run errands. And if that means picking up things for their wardrobe people, or whatever, that’s what I do.”

  “Really? Sounds interesting.”

  “It can be. So, obviously you’re into clothing and I wanna know more. I know your sister is about to come back out in a minute, but do you think we can continue this over the phone if you have time?”

  “I’d like that.”

  “Can I have your phone? I’ll put my number in.”

  “Sure.” Tamiko handed it over.

  He entered his digits and name. “Here you go. Give me a call and let’s talk.”

  “I will. And by the way, I’m Tamiko.”

  “Tamiko.” He kept focused on her face only. “Nice. But I was just gonna call you Beautiful.”

  “Thanks,” Tamiko said as Milan approached.

  “Fa sho. I’ll talk to you later.” He looked at Milan, who stood one foot back. “Nice to meet you, sister Milan,” he said with a smile.

  She nodded. “You, too.”

  He pointed to Tamiko’s phone as he took a step. “Hey, now. Use that, okay?”

  “I will.” She slipped her phone into her purse and watched him walk away. He put his shades back on.

  Milan said, “Wow. You didn’t tell me about him.”

  “I know. I ran into him the other day. It was no big deal.”

  Milan asked as they walked on, “And? He tried to hit on you then?”

  “He did. But Jarod hadn’t tripped out yet.”

  Milan took another peek back at him. “Well, thank God he did. That boy is fine. A little slim thug.” She turned back around. “Young but fine. Looks like a damn model.”

  “I think he said he’s thirty-one.”

  “You’d better ask for his ID on the very first date.”

  “I’ll have to do that. Long as he’s not a player.”

  “Screw that. And ask him if he has a brother.”

  “Yeah right. You’ve got a man.”

  “I’m afraid it’s a man with more drama that I can deal with.”

  Tamiko rolled her eyes. “Please. You’re not going anywhere. And anyway, I’m not looking for a man. I’m just making a new friend.”

  “Yeah right, friend. You need to have him come on by and tighten you up right quick. Have him fry up your bacon.” Milan looked at her sister from the waist down.

  “Whatever.”

  “And I don’t know how you handled Jarod anyway, unless you were just dick dumb. That boy was the size of a Pringles can.”

  “Milan.” She blushed.

  “Hell, I saw him. Or should I say I saw it. You know he could give that Mandingo porn star guy a run for his money. Damn, Tamiko. You were just whipped, that’s all.”

  “I was not. Besides, Mandingo or not, sex isn’t everything. Jarod was my friend.”

  “Friend, huh? They say never trust a big dick and a smile.”

  “Anyway. Next subject.”

  At that moment, Tamiko received a text message. She grabbed her phone.

  I miss r movie dates.

  She silently deleted the message and kept walking.

  Milan said, “You know what they say? A man will change his woman before he changes his ways. Just don’t teach him that he can pull that crap and come back. Then he’ll never stop.”

  “I know that. I’m not that naive.”

  “You know what, innocent one? What you need to do is bring yourself on down to the club and see what it’s like. You missed my opening two years ago and promised to come and never did. Don’t think I’m gonna let that continue to slide. Why do you avoid it like the fuckin plague?”

  Tamiko’s eyes drifted to the window display of Talbots. “Cause it is. And watch your mouth.”

  “You need to stop acting like such a damn prude and let that freak side come on out, Miss Goody Two-shoes.” Milan answered her phone. “Hey, Lavender. Thanks. Love you, too. Bye.” She hung up.

  “Yeah. You’re not going anywhere,” Tamiko commented.

  “Where I’m going, there might not be room for Lavender Lewis and batty-ass Ramada Hart.”

  34

  “Get Off”

  Friday, May 23, 2008

  11:07 p.m.

  A couple of days later, Milan and Lavender were at work.

  Milan walked around for a minute, greeting people and making small talk, and then she headed back up to her office to check out information on business laws in Miami, also researching possible locations, like the old site of the Triad hotel. Now that she had the money from the cable television show, she wanted to expand Erotic City as soon as possible. She also looked for data on possible future locations in Las Vegas, searching for spots that were thirty-five-thousand square feet or more, less than a half mile from the Luxor.

  She surfed the Internet and made notes for a while and then opened her script software program and started the intro to her Erotic City episode.

  They say swinging is like watching a soap opera. So many people do it but few will admit to it. I say it’s established couples consenting to their partner’s having sexual encounters with others, ranging from flirting, kissing, full sex, or orgies.

  And speaking of orgies, Lavender had already glanced into Milan’s office, seeing her hard at work, when he headed to the VIP room, and then to the orgy room.

  He spoke to the guy who handled the lockers and opened the door to peek inside at the large volume of willing people. A man stepped in behind Lavender and just stood there, looking at the many occupants. He had a major hard-on and stared like he had no idea where to start. The man’s shapely woman walked up behind him and took him by the hand. They stepped toward a mattress within a few feet from the pile of bending bodies twisted up like pretzels and were all eyes.

  Headlocks and corkscrews and interlocked jigsaw puzzles and banana splits and sidewinders, and folks speaking in tongues. The group intercourse was a sight for sore, horny eyes.

  Lavender grinned, closed the door, and left. But the erotic party still went on like clockwork.

  The orgy room members were fucking without feelings.

  Strange hands against unfamiliar bodies.

  The sign on the door said No Jealousy Allowed.

  The song “The Freaks Come Out at Night” was playing over the speakers.

  The sweet scent of group sex was thick.

  It smelled like a threesome.

  Or a foursome.

  Or a moresome.

  With some who were bi, tri, or quad.

  Big, beautiful titties jiggling in circular motions to the sound of wall-to-wall, sweaty, flopping flesh.

  Big, beautiful dicks were slinging deep and then shallow and then deep again, being milked to the liquid sounds of creamy feminine secretions.

  Some were your everyday, friendly, neighborhood Joe and Jane Average.

  Your bankers.

  Your bus drivers.

  Your day care workers.

  Your coworkers.

  Half were single.

  Half were married.

  But all were down.

  For whatever it took to get them off.

  It wa
s an appropriate mix of about six couples, as well as two single vanilla women and one single chocolate man, sprawled out on wall-to-wall mattresses. Against one wall there were purple velvet drapes and another wall was all mirrors . . . mirrors of darkened glass for the Peeping Toms. Clothes were left at the door in assigned lockers.

  The fifteen swinging members were engaged in a game of passionate and playful fucking, all huddled together, screaming with excitement, humping vigorously, getting off wildly. All of the uninhibited clutching and digging was accompanied by roaring screams that signaled the height of their frenzied spasms.

  Two women formed a pink taco stand, pressing their pussies together, grinding against each other’s opening. They had the exact same equipment. One of them moved from the grind to offer a pound of tongue to her temporary, same-sex mate, even eating her out from behind.

  One sandy-haired woman was a biggun everyone was sho-nuff diggin. Her ass was the color of hot buttered rum. She looked butch but one would suppose she was a dick hound, as she appeared to be about ready to collapse into unconsciousness with a long, stiff one up in her.

  One of the accountant-looking husbands had her bent over the mattress to fuck her in the ass in front of his wife. Her right hip read Georgia Peach. And his gloved joystick was deep into her anal cavity.

  She looked back at him with her smoky topaz eyes and said, “Yeah. Fuck that ass.”

  The tight grip upon his dick signaled that he had reached his entry limit. His cave dwelling fetish was on high.

  He tried his best to break her back, pumping in and out in the exact measure of her hysterical wails. His blonde wife was wide-eyed while in the middle of a missionary fuck by a long and slender, blue black dick, as one of the single, macadamia-colored women sucked her right nipple like she was lactating. The wife looked over at her husband while he wore out the big girl’s ass, much like he’d worn out his own wife’s pussy. The wife spanked her own clit and closed her eyes at the onslaught of cumming, ripping a squeal. She hit a high note like Mariah that showed itself between her legs, coating her strong lover’s cock as it oozed from her extrahairy vagina.

  Her husband took in an eyeful of her never-before-seen excitement and held on to the got-much-back, wonder-woman ass that was bent over before him. He continued to pound and his excited dick trembled. He shot a nut that was more intense than any nut he’d felt in all of his forty-something years. He looked like someone squeezed the wetness from him like a dishrag. The condom was full.