Kismet 3

by Raynesha Pittman

  All week I dealt with Ryan’s shit. He made out a whole routine for us, and none of it included anything that I wanted to do. Monday was my last day of freedom, and if I had known that, I would have squeezed in more me time. As for Tuesday through Thursday, my schedule, which he posted on my mirror, went like this:

  6:00 a.m.—breakfast

  7:00 a.m.—drop off (work)

  4:00 p.m.—pick up (work)

  4:30 p.m.—arrive at the gun range

  5:30 p.m.—leave the gun range

  6:15 p.m.—arrive at the gym (self-defense course)

  7:30 p.m.—leave the gym

  8:00 p.m.—back home

  Friday’s schedule was identical, except after we left the gun range, we hit the road to Nashville so I could visit Dre. Ryan only left my side when I went to work and from 7:00 p.m. to 7:30 p.m. at the gym because I was in a thirty-minute woman-only workout group. I was surprised that he allowed me to walk to the car by myself afterward while he waited. He had become my full-time shadow, and there was nothing I could say to get away from him. He wouldn’t let me go to the fitness center at our hotel alone, nor would he let me grab dinner by myself. He was overdoing his job, and what made matters worse was that he wouldn’t talk to me besides mandatory interactions, like questions on what I wanted to eat or directing me during one of our self-defense lessons. Every time I tried to sit down and have small talk with him, he reminded me of what I could be doing with the time instead.

  “There’re people in jail you don’t have updates on because of your shaky relationship with your best friend. I don’t have to walk you down memory lane. As a matter of fact, you could be watching those self-defense videos instead of trying to get to know me better. We aren’t friends, nor do I want us to be.”

  I complained about his overprotection and dry attitude to Dre during visiting, but nothing would be done. He agreed with what Ryan was doing like I knew he would.

  “Listen to what you’re bitching about, baby. He’s there to protect you. What did you expect?”

  “I didn’t expect this. Y’all are best friends or brothers like y’all call it, and he refuses to talk to me about anything but protection, and if he does ask me anything, it’s more like a homicide detective during an interrogation.”

  “That’s how he is. It took hours of being under him for training before he warmed up to me. The nigga had me thinking he didn’t like me for months. I know it can be irritating, but I promise you, he’s going to keep you safe. Just do what he says.”

  “I am doing what he says, but what about being comfortable?”

  “You’re finding reasons to whine. Why aren’t you comfortable?”

  “I’m not whining. And how can anyone be comfortable under the same roof with someone who won’t take a minute to help you get to know them?”

  “The armed guards in the bearskin hats outside of the Buckingham Palace don’t say shit to anyone, because talking doesn’t have shit to do with protecting the queen. They don’t sit around, laughing and joking with her. If she doesn’t ask them shit, they don’t say shit.”

  “Well,” I said slowly feeling pissed at Dre’s defense of the stranger he hired to protect me, “I hope the duchess brings her California swag to the Royal Family and switch that up when she moves in that bitch.”

  Dre laughed, and it took him a little longer than what I liked to regain his composure to respond to me.

  “Baby, Buckingham Palace is the queen’s house, and honestly, she doesn’t even live there really. She has a handful of places to go to.”

  “You can laugh all you want. I don’t care where the queen lives. The guards still follow her, and they still stand outside her palace, regardless of whether she’s there. If she likes them silent, that’s her choice. As your queen, I want my armed guards interacting with me, or there will be a permanent changing of the guard in Atlanta.”

  When visiting hour was over, I was put back on schedule, and there still wasn’t any chitchat between us. We hit the road back to Atlanta the same day and made it there around five o’clock. I thought we would head back to the hotel, but that wasn’t a part of Ryan’s plans. He took me to the Metropolis to sign my lease and get my keys before the office closed at six thirty. I was tired and wanted to rest, and after I voiced it several times, Ryan gave in and drove us to the hotel.

  I must have been exhausted because I don’t remember falling asleep. It was 11:00 p.m. before I woke up, and I was hungry. I knew Ryan wasn’t going to let me grab something to eat, so I yelled from my room if he minded going for me. He didn’t answer. I asked again and again, but he still didn’t answer. I walked into the living room, assuming he was asleep, but Ryan was gone. There wasn’t a note left just in case I woke up or anything. He hadn’t left me by myself in almost a week, and it frightened me a little, but it also gave me the opportunity to go out by myself without my shadow. I threw on my shoes, jumped in my car, and drove off.

  There were plenty of fast-food restaurants near my hotel, but I didn’t want a turnaround trip, nor did I want anything fast. I needed freedom and wanted to be around other people without being monitored.

  My hotel was located downtown on Peachtree, which was already one of Atlanta’s event-filled areas, especially on Saturday nights. All I had to do was drive down the street and eye the outside of establishments to see where I would fall in. I ended up getting valet parking at a restaurant/dancing club called Scout. From what I could tell by looking at the packed balcony, it was definitely where I needed to be. The last call for the kitchen was at 11:45 p.m. I wouldn’t waste time because I was hungry and ready to eat.

  As I ate and sipped on my wine, so many men approached me that you would have thought I was the only woman in the house. I’d never had to reject so many offers to dance and attempts at flirtatious conversations in one night. It had my self-esteem on high and made me decide to stay and receive a couple of those free drinks I was being offered. The night was young, and I was sure Ryan was already pissed off that I had left, but what could he do about it now? It’s not like he could call and tell Dre on me. Even if he had a way to track my location, I doubt he was big and bad enough to put me across his lap and whip me.

  One free drink turned into two, and then the drinks turned into a dance, and the next thing you know, I was in full clubgoer mode. I was tipsy and had danced from one end of the club to the other. The hip-hop the DJ was spinning was great, but when he switched the music to reggae, my hips were in heaven. I closed my eyes and let the music take over me. My arms were extended above my head and winding to the beats. I felt someone approach me from behind, place their hands on my hips, and grind with me, and that was perfectly fine with me. I needed a dance partner and hoped they could feel how deeply the music was moving me, and apparently, he did.

  “What the fuck!”

  The words came out of my mouth as I felt a hardened penis rub against my butt. I knew grinding the way we were would cause some heat between us, but this motherfucka behind me was overstepping his boundaries. As he got harder, he pulled my thighs in to him so that he could rest his hardness on me. Then he began rubbing himself up and down on me like he was attempting ejaculation. I hate to admit it, but it felt so good to have a hard dick touch me that I delayed getting away from it. I wanted to guess how long it was, how hard the head could get, and if it belonged to a man who knew how to control his nut until there was no doubt that he had pleasured my pussy. I creamed on myself and out of embarrassment, I tried to loosen his grasp, but he tightened his grip on my thighs and started rubbing it faster against me. I had to dig my nails into his hands to get him to release me. When I turned around to face the perpetrator, I found myself making eye contact with Amir.

  “He misses you, Savannah, and how you were grinding on him says that you miss him too. I know that shake. I’ve felt it around my dick many times. You wet those panties, didn’t you?”

  “Fuck you, Amir!”

  “Yes, please, you come home with me and fuc
k Amir.”

  “In your dreams.”

  He stood there with a perverted smile on his face as I turned on my heels to walk away. I made it down the stairs in the club and out the exit before he caught up to me.

  “Savannah!” he yelled. “Please, wait, please. Hear me out.”

  I made my way to the valet parking booth and requested my car. By the time I was done, Amir was back standing in my face.

  “What, Amir? What the fuck is it?”

  “I’m sorry, Savannah. I really am. I’m sorry ’bout every ting. What I said to you years back was disrespectful, and I was upset, but I didn’t mean it. I had feelings for you that I thought we shared, but I was wrong. Please forgive me. I don’t like how you are treating me. You were my baby.”

  “I forgive you, now, leave me alone. It was only sex, Amir, nothing more. I was never your baby.”

  As the word “sex” came out of my mouth, the beast in between my legs awakened. All the drinks I had must have kicked in. Instantly, I could feel all of Amir inside of me. I’d never forget the rhythm his dick pulsated to. It was as Caribbean as he was. I let him play his bongo drums on my cheeks as his guiro slid in and out of my ass. It was my first dance to his reggae funk, and I enjoyed it. I never thought I would, but the pleasure of the pain he caused made me crave it. Dre had tried to dig through my rumble, but as quickly as his shovel entered me, he was pulling it back out. The two seconds that he gave me triggered cravings, and with my dance instructor in my face, the urge to pull down my panties and bend over to show off my dancing shoes had taken over me. Where was the valet with my car?

  “Then let me sex you. I know how to give you what you want and give your body what it needs. I don’t believe that you don’t miss me pleasing you.” He took a step closer to me. “I don’t believe you don’t miss my tongue touching you places fingers won’t reach. You remember my touch, don’t you? Do you remember what my tongue and lips feel like on your skin?” I turned my head, and he walked around to stand in front of me and said, “Do you remember how my dick throbs inside of you?”

  For a second there, his words had me frozen, and not only could I remember his touch, but I could also feel it. Thank heaven that the sight of my car coming up the ramp snapped me out of it so that I could move out of his voodoo’s reach. As I walked away to switch positions in the driver seat with the valet, Amir yelled out, “Think about it. And when you do, I’ll be at my family’s restaurant ready for you. Sex only.”

  Chapter Seven

  Full-body Protection

  It was my last full week under Ryan’s protection, and I prayed it went by fast. He had been acting like a bitch ever since the night I left for food while he moved my boxes into my new place. How was I supposed to know that he left to get me settled in? There wasn’t a note saying where he had gone or when I should expect him back. Those facts were the exact ones I used for disappearing that night for food, and they were what I used to convince him not to tell Dre on me. Although I looked upon it as a battle won, it was more of a loss the way Ryan tightened his security on me. He didn’t let me attend my women’s workout class for three days in order to cram in some more training—or so he claimed. But I knew a punishment when someone placed me on one. From that day forth, he made me spend every sixty seconds of a minute with him besides my eight-hour work shift.

  I was glad to be back at work, not just because it freed me from Ryan’s prison, but because I really loved my job, and I was good at what I did. The only part that felt weird about returning to the home office was that I’d been back at work for almost two weeks and hadn’t seen Stephanie once. We had a company meeting my first week back, but it was a telephone conference. I was starting to think the conference call was arranged so that we wouldn’t have to see each other by Stephanie’s request. I had seen the other two partners because they came to my office to say hello and to welcome me back. I didn’t expect that from Stephanie. We are no longer friends and judging by the welcome gift she left for me, we never would be again. I guess there wasn’t a real reason for us to see each other anymore. Our offices were on two separate floors, and there was no reason for me to go downstairs or for her to come up. Maybe it was best that we didn’t see each other because with all the tension between us, it felt like we were in constant competition anyway. I would report my progress on my accounts in the evening and carbon copy all the partners on my email. In the mornings, she would do the same, so we always knew who was making the most progress, and without a doubt, it was me.

  I hadn’t known Stephanie’s real whereabouts until Christmas Eve when Mr. Williamson emailed us to wish us all a pleasant week off for the holidays. He concluded his email by saying, Glad to see Savannah James and Stephanie Teasdale have gotten settled in our Atlanta and California offices. The numbers you both have put up this last week are record-breaking. I hope your drive for the growth of our company continues in the approaching year. Happy Holidays.

  The little bitch couldn’t take the heat, so she moved away from the furnace. That was the best thing for her to do because there was no way I’d let her be in my presence in peace. It didn’t matter that we weren’t in the same office. I’d still find a way to get under her skin for that basket she sent me. Now that I knew where she was, it was my turn to put together and send a gift. Instead of a basket, I sent her a box. I took the last hour of my shift and went through a hand full of my pictures with my short hairdo and printed them off. When I made it to the house, I went through my clothing and found the outfits from the pictures. When I had five pictures and outfits together, I boxed and wrote a cute note to go with it.

  Hey, Little Savannah,

  You’re doing such an excellent job at mimicking me as a partner and trying to live my life that I couldn’t help but to contribute to your mission. Here are a few of my favorite outfits and pictures to show you how to wear them properly. I hope they bring you as much joy as they brought me. Oh, and if you need any help with getting adjusted to my life in California, I’m a phone call away. I hope becoming me finally brings worth to your meaningless life.

  —Savannah, The Original

  It was now Saturday, January the 5th, my last full day with Ryan and my last visit with Dre. He would be moved to Whiteville, Tennessee, this week, and we would go to phone calls and letters only as our method of contact. We made the most of our last visit with each other by not arguing once and expressing our love and lust for each other.

  “My first meal as a free man is my pussy. I want you to lie back, spread them legs, and open that pussy up. You come in this bitch looking like dessert every visit, and I can’t wait to eat your ass up. Better start getting your hydration up, beautiful. I’m draining your ass for days.”

  “Is that right?” was all I could manage to say. He didn’t know how much I hated talking about sex and not getting any, but it seemed to make him happy, so I didn’t complain.

  “Yeah, that’s right, and I am coming with the steel. That first nut I get off, I ain’t gon’ lie to you. It’s gon’ come quick, so I’ll let you swallow that one, but after that, I’m nutting all in my pussy. You need to be saving those vacation days you get at work. If not, when I’m done, they’re gonna have to put you on sick leave.”

  I laughed, and when we said our last face-to-face goodbyes, he reminded me that I would be going with Ryan to pick up Mike tonight and that I needed to drive safely back to Atlanta because he was sure Mike would be riding with me dirty.

  When I made it back to my car, Ryan had parked his car and was sitting on the passenger side of mine with a wrapped gift.

  “For you, my dear. Happy early birthday,” he said with a smile.

  My birthday wasn’t for another three weeks, but there was no way I’d be rejecting his gift. I tore into the paper until I reached the metal box. There was a key taped to it, which I used to unlock it. Inside of the case was a brand-new 9 mm Glock 19 pistol, an extra clip, and a box of bullets. I only knew the name of the gun because it was identical to
the one I had practiced with at the range.

  “Aww, my very own gun. Thanks, Ryan.”

  He took the gun out of the case and turned it to the side so I could read what was engraved on the slide of the gun. In cursive writing, it read, “Savannah’s Bitch.”

  I reached across the seat and planted a kiss on his cheek. I didn’t mean anything by it. The kiss was a friendly gesture. But he looked at me as if I’d crossed into enemy territory.

  “Calm down, Ryan. That was a grandmother-to-her-grandchild kiss. If I didn’t try to cross the line with you in three weeks of living together, you don’t have to worry about me trying to now.”

  A crooked, boyish smile appeared on his face as he tried to play it cool. “So, where does the birthday girl want to go eat and celebrate getting the hell away from me? I won’t make it back to check on you until February, so we’ll have to celebrate it now.”

  Did I make it that obvious that I was ready for him to leave and get the hell away from me? I looked at him and laughed to stop myself from confirming that he was right. I drove us to B. B. King’s restaurant downtown, and we enjoyed our last meal together there. Ryan’s phone was ringing, and besides phone calls from Dre, it was the first time I’d heard it, especially that ringtone. A classic by the group called The Dramatics blared out of the back of his phone. The song was about backstabbers.

  “Hello?” His voiced changed from relaxed to somewhat angered as he greeted the caller. The fluctuation of his voice and the ringtone made me want to eavesdrop more. “She’s right here with me. I told you she’d be ready around five or six... What? Hell naw, y’all need to be almost there by then. Look, if you can’t handle—” Ryan didn’t finish his sentence because the person on the other end of the phone had ended the call before he could. Ryan looked at me while he put his phone back in the holder he had connected to his belt. “That was Mike. Have you ever met him?”