Risqué 2

by Perri Forrest

  As much as I wanted this idiot’s face bashed in, I didn’t want for things to escalate to a higher level. Zane had too much at stake, holding such a high position in the school district. And this fool wasn’t worth either of our energy.

  “It’s not okay. Not a goddamn thing about the way he’s behaving, is okay.”

  Reggie stood up from his seat. “Let massa out,” he challenged.

  “Are you serious right now?!” I hissed, not caring that others in the restaurant turned to look our way. “Kameelah, this is bullshit,” I shot between gritted teeth.

  Kameelah slid to the end of the seat and stood next to her date. I was so disgusted with her in that moment. The woman that was there, wasn’t the woman that I knew. That I had been knowing for years. The professional woman that had a good head on her shoulders. The woman that I was laughing, and gossiping with, and who I enjoyed hanging out with.

  “Giselle, baby… get up for me.” Zane’s demeanor was so calm when he spoke the words that it made me nervous.

  “Zane, I’m not moving. I’m not going to let you stoop—”

  “Look at that,” the antagonist said. “Protective black woman.”

  “Reggie, come on. Let’s go,” Kameelah urged, her arm looped through his.

  “Excuse me, but is there a problem here?”

  It was our waiter. He was accompanied by a larger guy, who was clearly some type of security. He wore a suit on his large, muscular frame. But he also had a very visible, non-concealed weapon that I’m sure he had conducted plenty of business with.

  “No, no,” Kameelah offered. “There’s no problem. We were just leaving. Right Reggie?” Reggie and Zane were locked in a stare-down that didn’t seem to be breaking. “Reggie,” she urged, eyeing security nervously.

  “Yeah, alright,” the menace finally relented. He looked at both the waiter, and security, then said, “Let’s get up.”

  On the heels of their departure, Zane was ready to go as well. It was me that prevented us from leaving, by refusing to vacate my seat. As bad as I had to pee, I was smart enough to stay put. Because I had no doubt that Zane would have headed Reggie off at valet, or wherever he had parked. I heard in his voice, how determined he was to finish what Reggie had attempted to start. So yeah, I was willing to sit there for as long as it took.

  I stalled as much as I could. I ordered dessert that I was too full to eat. I engaged him in some of the most random conversation I could dig out the vault. It was Spider Solitaire, and how I had three different ones loaded on my cellphone. It was Law & Order SVU, and how I wish they’d stop making every storyline about Olivia. I even dove into ‘work talk’, and asked what parts of the job he was looking forward to. Then, when I saw that he was half in and half out, I pulled out the big guns and revisited our first meeting… at the 13th Floor. That got him every time. Didn’t know why I hadn’t thought of it sooner.

  “I know what you’re doing,” Zane told me after my babble-fest.

  “Cool. Then you know that I’m not moving until I can see that glint that I’m used to seeing in those beautiful oceans.”

  “Oceans?!” he blurted out.

  “Yep.”

  That managed to bring him out of his bout of anger, and before I knew it, we were laughing and then kissing, and then finally heading back to his place.

  I accomplished the goal I set out to meet. To buy enough for Kameelah and her classless friend to have left the premises for good. What I didn’t need was for Zane and dumb-ass to end up in some street fight. That wouldn’t have been a good look for Zane, a man who had just relocated to a whole new city, for a big, important job.

  Hell no.

  By all accounts, Zane looked like he was ready for whatever would have come his way. I just wasn’t willing to let him respond to stupidity, and risk way more than it was worth.

  4 | Giselle

  When we made it back to Zane’s, I dropped my purse at the front of the house, and made a beeline for the bathroom. I had rejected my bladder for the past hour and it was time to do what was right. As upscale as the restaurant was, ‘going’ in a familiar place was always, always going to win out with me. When I came from the bathroom, with an empty bladder I felt so brand-new.

  After washing my hands, and slipping into my signature shorts and tee, I made my way to the top of the staircase. I heard soft music playing and watched from the railing as Zane stood in front of the entertainment system with the remote control.

  “That song is perfect!” I called out to him.

  He turned around and looked up to where I was. “You should be down here with me.”

  “Exactly where I was coming to.”

  I took the stairs down and made my way over to him. Our energy was so potent when it came to each other. It was an experience I knew nothing about. Didn’t know if I’d refer to it as ‘animal attraction’, but it sure as hell was something close. It was an irresistible type of magnetic pull. There were times that it scared me. Had me wondering if I was ready for whatever I was getting myself into. But then, there were other times that it made me run toward it with blinders on, not caring if I crashed into a damn wall or not. It had my soul feeling reckless and a little out of control.

  “Here she is,” he said, leaning down to kiss me on the lips.

  “Yes, here she is. And you’re way overdressed.” I unbuttoned his shirt, then slid it down over his arms. “I need to feel flesh,” I said, rubbing along his arms as the shirt fell off of him.

  “Why you insisted on running all the way upstairs for what could’ve been handled down here, is beyond me.” He released a soft chuckle. “But I can’t say that I didn’t enjoy the view.”

  “I did kinda run, didn’t I? Had to relieve myself. Couldn’t do it there because I was trying to keep your reputation intact.”

  “So, you’re telling me that you took one for the team. Is that what I’m hearing?”

  “Yes, and at the expense of my amazingly patient bladder. Don’t you ever forget that, buddy.”

  “How could I?” Zane teased, staring into me with a seductive glare that spoke to every inch of my womanhood. It was an unspoken desire. “I mean, you could literally be in pain right now and I wouldn’t get to touch you in all the places I wanted to. That would be criminal.”

  “Right?! Almost as criminal as you were trying to be tussling with a drunken thug.”

  We laughed heartily together, as we often did. What was once a subliminally charged flirtation, had turned to comedy. But Zane and I had no problems reeling it back in. Not ever. We could go from deep conversation to sexually explicit, with no problem at all.

  And that’s how, moments later, we found ourselves on the thick, plush carpet in front of the fireplace, going at it like we had just been on a mandatory hiatus from each other. His hands were everywhere, mine were everywhere. Our kisses were frenzied, starved. It was rough. He pulled me to him, I pushed away for greater access to having his dick in my hand. He’d reclaim me, limiting my handiwork, but in the process allowing his to gain momentum. It was give and take… without limitations. Without expectations… but with expectations met.

  The whole time that we were handling each other, my mind was in a particular place. It was a thought I’d been having, but slow—maybe even scared—to act on. But with the lingering effects of the liquor, I was becoming more and more bold, the further along we got. The only thing that kept me from it was fear. Would it meet his approval? Would it ruin the moment? Would it become a deal breaker for how far we could potentially go?

  But I threw all caution to the wind. I cut off our intense kissing session. I closed my eyes tight, praying for success. And before Zane could wonder what was happening, or even protest, I dove… down low.

  He was so hard for me. That fact alone, had me turned on.

  My mouth was around his swollen arousal, where I did everything I could to take the swelling down, make it feel better, make him feel better. I put my jaws to work—overtime. How I was doing, I did
n’t know. Only that I was enjoying how his sac felt in my hands, how he felt in my mouth. Soft, thick, and hard. I loved every bit of it, as my tongue slipped and slid up and down his slope. I got lost in the feel of him filling my jaws with movements caused by the gyration of his hips. His reaction had me. With each moan, with each subdued thrust, I wanted to please him more.

  When I felt him reach down to grab onto me, I was confused, mortified. Don’t give up, I told myself. It felt so good to him moments before. Don’t give up. I refused to let him go. My ambition kicked up a notch and I deep-throated him even more. I thought I had disappointed him. I had to redeem myself. I was willing to do that.

  But then, he aggressively maneuvered me while staying in position… in my mouth. And before I knew it, the prodding of his tongue, the warmth of his lips, swallowed me whole. That fiery sensation, caused my lips to part around his dick as I released the loudest moan to ever escape me. He had me wide open, his tongue knowing no boundaries. From my clit to the base of my sex, he marked his territory with beautiful memories.

  And it was then that I remembered, that I was not yet done, with what I set out to give him. And so again, I took him hostage. Starting at the tip of his head, I worked my way down until I felt him at the back of my throat. I knew my limit, but I wanted to push; and with as good as he felt, it became easier and easier. I summoned my confidence, relaxed my throat. When I took as much as I could handle, I sucked him hard. It was slow at first. Gag reflex would not have been cute. I didn’t want to risk making a bad impression. This was important. So, I proceeded with caution. I sucked him slow at first, then with increased speed, my head bobbed up and down with the flow of a pro. His moans became louder around my core, causing vibrations to rip through me.

  In this sacred moment of blissful pleasure, wicked pleasure, the energy kicked up a few notches. We were one… with the same goal—to please. He tasted me, drank from my juices; in return, I swallowed all that he had to offer—until he had nothing else to offer.

  When we came, it was hard, it was prolonged… it was book one, the sequel, and the follow-up as well…

  5 | Giselle

  “Zane, where’s your family?” I asked him a while later when we were in post-erotic bliss, lounging on the oversized sofa downstairs.

  We had migrated from the floor to this spot some time ago. I never wanted to get up; it was so comfortable in his arms, lying on his chest. I listened to the thump of his heartbeat against my temple, trailing my hand down the length of his arm. The smooth hairs had me in a hypnotic state, as I waited for his answer.

  “All over the place,” he responded. “My mother is in San Francisco. My father is in Georgia. I have a brother and a sister. My sister is an attorney, living in Florida with my twin nieces and her husband. My brother is a playboy in sports management, who lives wherever he feels like, and travels all the time. He has just as many groupies as the athletes he represents. No kids… that we know of.” He chuckled. “Wouldn’t surprise me, though.”

  “He sounds colorful.”

  “Colorful. That’s a good word, for sure. I’ll tell him you said that.”

  “Don’t you dare,” I smiled. “I’ll deny it.”

  “I’ll bet you would.”

  “So, you guys have a full house it seems. And growing, if your brother still doesn’t have kids. And you . . .” I paused.

  “And me . . . what?” Zane asked.

  “Kids. I feel weird that I’ve never asked you, but do you have any kids?”

  My heart raced. What if he did? Where there’s a baby, there’s a baby mama.

  “No kids.”

  Whew!

  “Oh okay. Want any?”

  Again, my heart began to thump. Why hadn’t I asked him this stuff before I got to this point of being all into him? My life plans didn’t in any way involve having any more kids, so . . .

  “I do.” And there was the triple bomb drop. Fuck. “I love kids.” Shit! “I want at least one. If it’s in the cards, it’ll happen,” he stated matter of fact.

  The silence in my head was so loud, it was banging against my temples and through my eardrums. I closed my eyes, thankful that he couldn’t see my face from where he lay. Why had I even asked him that? Why not just leave the conversation in the family zone? But hell, I guess because kids are the family zone.

  I inhaled, but relaxed on the exhale to keep Zane from sensing the shift in my mood. If he sensed that, he might just ask the question that I didn’t want to answer: ‘Do you want any more kids? To which I’d have to answer… No, I don’t’.

  “What about your family? I know Skai. Who else is there in the immediate family?”

  “My mother who lives right here in Vegas.”

  “Your mother lives in town?”

  “Yep.”

  “I just assumed she lived outside the Valley.”

  “Nope. She’s here. Got her a plush residence in a 55+ community. Don’t know why she opted for that environment seeing that she still acts like she’s in her 40’s—and looks like it too. She’s all about her life with her friends and all that. The lady still goes to clubs, serial dates . . . sometimes guys way younger than her . . . and travels like her passport is about to expire at any time. She is not your typical 63-year-old. Picture Angela Bassett.”

  “Oh, that nice, huh?”

  “She really is. Love her to death. Where I suffered, and still suffer from empty nester when Skai left, she was the exact opposite when I left home. She’s twice divorced. Let’s see what else I can tell you? I’m my mother’s only child, so no siblings to speak of on that side. My father is a different story. He’s got three kids with two different women. I’ve never met them. They’ve never reached out. I’ve never reached out. I do have a first cousin that I’m really close to, though. She comes to Vegas every now and again.”

  “So, how close are you and your friend we ran into earlier?”

  “Kameelah. Hmph.” I shook my head thinking back on her foul actions with bringing that toxicity around. “We’re cool. I’ve been knowing her for 10 years. I don’t know if you would call us close or not. We’re neighbors. We talk on the phone sometimes, and have hung out, on occasion. In fact, she was with me the night I ran into you at the Fountains. She had left, though to go meet somebody. Just like your friend, Damon. I guess their disappearing acts paved the way for divine intervention.”

  “Right?” Zane concurred.

  “But yeah, so Kameelah and I… we’re not best girlfriends or anything like that. And after that shit she pulled earlier, I’m not sure where we’ll stand. Might just be waving in passing—that’s if I decide not to treat her like she’s Casper. She should have put an end to that mess.”

  Zane ran his hand across my hair, softly. “She seemed afraid of him if you ask me.”

  “I thought that for a little bit. She seemed a little uncomfortable. But then she didn’t. It was off and on with me. I didn’t know what to think. I don’t even know where he came from. I didn’t even know that she was seeing anybody exclusively, to tell the truth.”

  “Yeah, and it for sure seemed like they were exclusive.” Zane started laughing.

  “What are you laughing at?” I probed, poking him in the side.

  “You stood your ground and did not let me get around you.”

  “Oh, for sure. I wasn’t about to let you respond to that fool. He was just ignorant and needs to learn how to handle himself better with his liquor intake. I couldn’t believe he even went there. What we have is none of his goddamn business. I couldn’t believe the shit he was saying. And I looked up that goddamn ‘bed wench’ he talked about. You know what that is?”

  “Can’t be good. That’s the main reason I wanted to reach out and touch him.”

  I shook my head in disgust, preparing to share the definition with Zane. “According to the urban dictionary, it’s of course, some derogatory slang term. Which explains why he knew it. It’s what they call a slave woman whose job was to sleep in their sla
ve master’s bed. Basically, keeping his bed warm.

  “What?!” Zane shot, angrily. “You’re kidding, right?”

  “Not at all. And it pisses me the fuck off, because black men have this thing where they see us with a man of another race, and it’s all-out war. We get called out our name, we get looked at like we’re trash. But it’s a whole other type of situation when a black man decides that he wants a woman of another race. It’s like we’re expected to have this unseen loyalty to them, but it’s not in any way reciprocated.”

  After my mini-rant, there was a moment of silence in the air that lingered uncomfortably. I looked up at Zane, who looked to be glaring into space somewhere. I tried to read him, but couldn’t. I assumed my position, then nudged him in the side of his rib.

  “Remember admitting to me that you didn’t ever see yourself with some—”

  “Apples and oranges, Zane.”

  “How?”

  “Because my reservations were never about… the whole black-white thing.”

  “Well, you’re black, I’m white. How is it not?”

  “Zane! It’s different. I mean, it just wasn’t something that I saw for myself. That’s all. It wasn’t me looking at a white guy as my oppressor, and thus feeling like I couldn’t date him. I just didn’t see it. Okay, so I felt that with white men, for the most part, we were like some kind of exotic being that you felt the need to conquer just to see what it was like.”

  “So, it’s not really apples and oranges then.”

  “How can you even say that? I’m here. Evidently, I don’t feel that’s your position in this . . . with us. Why is this even a conversation, Zane? If we wanted to have a conversation, then we could talk about you wanting kids, and me not.” I shrugged my shoulders. “What could this really even be long-term if I don’t want any more kids?”

  “That’s transference. We can’t transfer this. We need to discuss this or nothing will come of this at all. I didn’t date you because I had some exotic fantasy about being with a black woman. I was attracted to your beauty. Attracted to the way your daughter described your character. Then it became me attracted to your energy. The rest fell in place from there. Thing is, I never dated a black woman before. Not anything to do with race at all. I love women. All women. I let who they are, lead me to wherever I’m going with them. Just none of that initiation process ever happened with a black woman—until we met.”