by Shelly Ellis
He ordered a drink and sat on one of the free stools at the bar, wondering how he had gotten himself into this mess. Every now and then, one of the girls would wander toward him with a seductive smile. They tried to chat him up. Each time he’d give them polite, succinct responses like he was at one of the meet and greets with other city officials again. Except here, instead of discussing transportation and capital improvement projects, he was declining a hit of blow that a pretty redhead had offered to him and telling another girl that she could stop rubbing his dick and cupping his balls, because he wasn’t interested.
He kept glancing at his watch. One hour passed, then another. He removed his suit jacket and then loosened his tie. He undid his shirt cuffs. He ordered another drink, then the next and another after that. By midnight, Jamal started to feel a little tipsy, which was definitely his cue to go back to the hotel, whether the mayor was ready to leave or not.
Jamal hopped off the stool and stood on slightly unsteady feet. He reached for his suit jacket that was slung over the back of the stool and tipped both to the floor. He bent down to pick up the fallen stool and his jacket, and watched as the cement floor tilted beneath his feet. He dropped to one knee to steady himself, feeling woozy.
“Whoa, there! You okay, honey?” a throaty voice asked him with a laugh.
He felt a hand touch his shoulder and he shot upright. The world tilted again and slowly began to settle into place. When it did, he could see Melissa giggling at him.
No, that’s not Melissa, he thought, frowning.
It couldn’t be. Melissa wouldn’t be working at a brothel in the East Village wearing a black thong, a lace push-up bra, and a long black wig.
He squinted at the woman and saw that, though she bore a striking resemblance to Derrick’s girlfriend, it wasn’t her.
“You okay?” she repeated, raising her brows.
He slowly nodded. “Yeah, I’m . . . I’m fine. Just lost my . . . uh . . . footing for a second there.”
“I can see that!” She reached down and grabbed his suit jacket. “Let me get that for you, baby.” She brushed the dust and dirt from his jacket then handed it to him.
“Thank you,” he whispered, still staring at her.
He didn’t know if it was the alcohol making him see things, but the resemblance to Melissa was uncanny; she even had dimples like her.
“I’m AnnaLee, by the way.” She extended a hand to him. “And you are?”
“Umm, Jamal.” He shook her hand awkwardly.
“Good to meet you, Jamal. I would ask you what you’re drinking and get you another one,” she said, glancing at the empty glass he’d left on the bar counter, “but you look like you’ve probably had more than enough already.”
“Yeah, I would be better off with a coffee rather than another drink, to be honest.” He glanced over his shoulder to look at the bartender, who was making a cocktail. Jamal held up his hand limply, motioning to get his attention.
“No, no! I’ll take care of that, baby.” She grabbed his hand and he instantly felt a charge, a thrill when she touched him. Their eyes met and he genuinely smiled for the first time that night.
“I don’t . . . uh . . . want another drink, but I can . . . I can get you one,” he said.
She let go of his hand and licked her full ruby-red lips. “I’d like that.”
They took two of the remaining free stools at the bar. He ordered her an apple martini and he sipped on bottled water as they talked. The charge he felt earlier grew in intensity. Again, he wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol or the room, which was filled with naked women and had a wanton atmosphere, that made him feel like he had stumbled into a real-life porno. Or maybe it was the fact that she looked so much like Melissa, a woman who had dismissed and insulted him, but one he obviously still couldn’t let go. But for whatever reason, he was definitely vibing with this woman. He didn’t care that her name was likely a fake one, along with her hair and the large breasts she kept leaning toward him as she laughed at every inane thing he said. He wanted her.
When AnnaLee leaned over and whispered into his ear after only an hour of them talking—“You wanna go someplace quiet, honey? I could get us a room”—he didn’t lurch back on his chair in shock. He didn’t tell her no either.
Instead, he gradually nodded. “Uh, o-okay.”
She led him by the hand to a corridor toward the back of the cavernous club, excusing their way through the writhing couples on the dance floor. He had seen Mayor Johnson disappear this way hours earlier and wondered where he’d gone. Now he could see a corridor with a series of slate-black doors. As they walked down the hall, they approached one door and AnnaLee shoved it open. He paused in the doorway when he saw a naked woman reclining on black satin sheets. Had they stumbled into the wrong room? He turned to AnnaLee in confusion. She began to laugh again.
“Don’t be scared, baby,” she said, tugging him into the sparse, dimly lit bedroom with her, then shutting the door behind him. “This is Star.” She gestured to the woman on the bed, who slowly rose to her knees. “She’s here to help us have a good time.”
“Hey, sweetheart,” Star gushed in a breathy voice, crawling across the mattress toward them.
Jamal opened his mouth, ready to tell AnnaLee that they didn’t need help to have a good time. He wanted her and only her, but AnnaLee brought her mouth to his, shushing his words.
As her tongue danced in his mouth, he could feel his tie being loosened then removed, he could feel his shirt buttons being opened. He tried to kiss her back, to wrap his arms around her, but she abruptly shoved him back onto the bed.
After he fell back onto the mattress, AnnaLee and Star didn’t climb on top of him so much as pounce. They were like a wrestling tag team and he was the hapless man in the stands who had wandered into the ring. One woman unbuckled his pants and tugged them off of his legs, the other ripped the shirt off his shoulders. His boxers were yanked down and pulled to his ankles. His wrists were roughly pulled up above his head. AnnaLee tied his right wrist to the wooden headboard with his necktie while Star used pink furry handcuffs that seemed to have appeared out of nowhere and clamped his left wrist to the other side of the headboard. The whole process probably took less than five minutes.
Some men might find this thrilling . . . even sexually adventurous, but once again, Jamal felt like he was caught in a whirlwind, like what was happening to him was beyond his control.
“Are the handcuffs really necessary?” he asked, laughing uneasily and glancing at his wrists. He tugged at them and listened to the metal clink against the headboard.
Anna Lee held a finger to his lips and gave him a saucy wink. “Trust us. You’re gonna enjoy this! We’re good at what we do.”
She started kissing him again, and nibbling his ear while Star licked her way down his stomach and his navel, following the happy trail to his groin. By the time AnnaLee was licking and nibbling at his chest and nipples and raking them with her sharp nails, Star had his dick in her mouth. Even as Jamal tensed and squirmed uncomfortably, he could feel himself hardening in Star’s mouth. His body was being overwhelmed with dual sensations of excitement and repulsion.
He had only known AnnaLee for about an hour and “knew” Star all of five minutes, and he was already having sex with them both? The whole thing was disconcerting, but he couldn’t deny how good it felt to have two beautiful strangers toying with him in such a way.
“You like that, baby?” AnnaLee whispered hotly into his ear, glancing down at Star’s bowed head as it bobbed up and down.
He groaned in response, making AnnaLee giggle again. She slowly removed her balconette bra, tossed it over her shoulder, and began to rub her breasts over his eyes and his chin, hovering the dark nipples over his mouth until he began to suckle one. That’s what he was doing when he came. His body jerked against the pillows stacked behind him. He went limp and his eyes closed as he sank onto the bed.
“Oh, no! Don’t fall asleep on us now, big boy!” An
naLee chided, slapping his chest, making his eyes flutter open. A naked Star slinked off the bed and strolled to the other side of the bedroom while AnnaLee knelt beside him, wrapped her hand around his dick and started to stroke him again. “We’re just getting started.”
“Just let me . . . let me get my breath. Let me . . . let me rest up,” he whispered tiredly. “Please. Loosen the handcuffs and let me rest.”
Between the sex escapades, the alcohol, and the late hour, he was thoroughly exhausted. His body screamed for him to close his eyes and go to sleep, to take a break. He was even starting to feel nauseated, to get the shakes.
“You don’t need rest! We know what you need, sweetheart,” Star sang as his eyelids sank closed again. His head lulled drunkenly to the side. “Don’t worry! Me and AnnaLee will take care of you.”
One of them roughly grabbed his face, twisting it toward her. She shoved something under his nose.
“Breathe in, baby,” AnnaLee ordered, even as he squirmed. “Come on! Come on, you can do it!”
He followed her command involuntarily, having no idea what he was about to inhale. When he did, his eyes shot open ten seconds later. His heartbeat suddenly accelerated.
“There he is!” Star exclaimed, removing the tiny bottle from under his nose. She and AnnaLee cackled with delight.
“What . . . what did you give me?” he asked, now panicked. He saw the bright blue bottle. It looked like they had given him a popper of some sort.
“Don’t worry about it, baby,” Anna Lee assured him as she slipped on a condom and climbed on top of him, cowgirl style. “Now let’s get this party started!”
* * *
By the time Jamal heard the knock at the bedroom door hours later, his head was pounding. He squinted in the darkened room at the doorway and found Mayor Johnson leaning against the doorjamb, grinning down at him. The light from the hallway shot inside the room, more intrusive than the morning sun, making Jamal wince.
“I was wondering where you were!” Johnson exclaimed. “I’ve been looking all over for you. I was worried you went home. But now I see you stayed and decided to have a good time. I’m proud of you, Jay!”
Jamal shifted a slumbering AnnaLee aside and disentangled Star’s limbs from his own. He slowly pushed himself upright on the bed. It was a challenge. His arms were still sore from being handcuffed to the headboard and it felt like someone was banging a sledgehammer on the inside of his skull.
“What . . . what time is it?” he croaked, making an ugly face at the nasty taste in his mouth. He swore he tasted bile in the back of his throat.
“It is almost six thirty,” Mayor Johnson said in a booming voice, making Jamal cringe again. “And we should probably get going.”
“Wait . . . it’s . . . it’s six thirty?”
Had he really been in here that long?
“That is correct! Uh, I’ll let you get dressed and say goodbye to these lovely ladies, if you wish. I’ll meet you downstairs.” He then closed the door behind him.
Jamal rose to his feet and turned on a table lamp. He looked dazedly around the room. His eyes lingered on the bed, where AnnaLee and Star were currently snoring. His gaze then drifted to the night table and the floor, where he searched for his discarded clothes. As he searched, he saw the evidence of all the things he and the girls had done in the past six hours. He saw the discarded thongs, the popper bottles, a neon-pink dildo, several opened condom packets, and the remnants of the lines of cocaine he had done with Star. He had never done the drug before in his life—even when Ricky had offered it to him. But he had done it last night.
“What the fuck got into me?” he whispered with disbelief and a hint of disgust.
It couldn’t have been just the alcohol and drugs. Last night, he had turned into almost another person. It was like the insidious transformation he had been anticipating had finally taken place.
Fifteen minutes later, he emerged from the steel door to find the Lincoln Town Car waiting along the curb as if it had been sitting there since ten o’clock the night before. Jamal held his hand over his eyes, squinting against the bright sunlight. He almost stumbled toward the car door that the driver was holding open for him.
When he climbed inside, slumping onto the leather seat, the door slammed shut behind him, making him cringe again.
Mayor Johnson glanced at him knowingly. “Having the worst hangover, huh?”
Jamal slowly nodded, careful not to move his head too quickly.
“Lucky for you, our first meeting today isn’t until nine forty-five. You’ve got a few hours to recover.”
A little under three hours to be exact, Jamal thought. He had three hours to pull himself together when he really wanted to sleep for twelve. He stifled a groan.
“Word to the wise,” Mayor Johnson said as the car pulled off. “Remember to bring sunglasses, caffeine pills, and Tylenol for nights like these. You’ll feel much better.”
“I won’t have another night like this,” Jamal muttered, resting his chin on his chest because he could barely hold up his head, making Mayor Johnson chuckle and slap his knee.
“Oh, yes, you will! Once you’ve had a night like the one you just had, my boy, you can’t get it out of your system.” He smirked. “You’re all in now!”
Jamal got a sinking feeling at the double meaning of those words. He was definitely all in now with Mayor Johnson and his crazy exploits—in more ways than one.
Chapter 7
Derrick
“Okay, everyone. We’ve officially reached the end of the agenda. Does anyone else have any questions or feel there’s something we should address before I adjourn the meeting? I was hoping to get you guys out early today,” Derrick said, looking at the dozen or so faces seated around the long table. He then glanced at the clock on the meeting room wall, relieved that he had actually managed to finish a staff meeting at the Institute with five minutes to spare—a small miracle considering how much their conversations could drift off topic.
“Actually, I have something to add,” said Ted, one of the math instructors, as he shot his hand into the air like an overeager student. “And I’ve raised this issue a few times.”
The room filled with a chorus of groans and bemused chuckles. Derrick stifled a sigh. So much for finishing early.
Ted was good at his job, but he could also be more demanding than some of the kids who ran up and down the halls.
“I asked for a new chair and desk for my classroom months ago, and I’ve yet to receive either. Is it too much to ask to have furniture for a man to sit down in? I mean . . . do I have to grade papers on the floor?” he asked, raising his gray brows.
“Hey, I asked for a new DVD player last year,” another instructor interjected and then shrugged. “I didn’t get it and just had to pony up for one myself. They reimbursed me later.”
“So you’re saying I should have to pay for my own chair and desk?” Ted cried.
Derrick shook his head. “No, that’s not what anyone is saying, Ted. I’ve gotten a whole list of furniture and equipment needs from several instructors. You aren’t the only one. But . . . I know you’re tired of hearing it, but I have to remind you that we are a nonprofit. We don’t receive federal funding. We work almost entirely off grants and we have a limited budget, so—”
“I’m not asking for a projector or a Blu-ray DVD player, Derrick! I’m just asking for a damn chair and table. If that’s too much to ask for around here, then I don’t know—”
“We’ll get you a chair and table,” Morgan interjected. “I’ll make it the next assignment for our shop class. Just give me the specifications. The boys would be happy to build it for you.”
Ted frowned. “I don’t want anything that’ll break apart as soon as I sit on it.”
“It won’t,” Derrick said. “They do good work down there. Morgan will make sure that they do.”
He looked down the table and met her bright green eyes. For a few charged seconds they gazed at one another, and
the rest of the room disappeared. It used to be like that between them, a silent inside joke that they would acknowledge with a wink, or a promise of a kiss later that he could look forward to in his office. But the moment ended as soon as it began. Morgan abruptly looked away and stared at Ted again.
“The kids could build you something a lot better than the plywood stuff you’d find at Ikea. It seems like the best solution the school can offer you for now. Take it or leave it. Doesn’t make a difference to me either way.”
Ted looked like he wanted to mount another argument and complain more, but his shoulders sank and he nodded, seemingly defeated. “Fine. I’ll take the chair and desk you guys build me, I guess.”
“And I’ll take that as a thank you,” Morgan said. “You’re welcome, Ted.”
“Okay,” Derrick said, looking around him again at the mix of bored and expectant faces. “If no one else has anything to add, I think we’re done for today.”
Derrick watched as several people around the table rose to their feet and pushed in their chairs. While he gathered his file folders and pen, he noticed one of the social studies instructors murmur something to Morgan, who promptly laughed and smiled. He hadn’t seen her smile in weeks. She certainly hadn’t smiled at him, but he deserved the cold shoulder for what he had put her through.
“Hey, Morgan!” he called out to her as she neared the meeting room entryway, where several other of the Institute’s faculty members were streaming into the hall.
At the sound of his voice, the muscles in her back visibly stiffened through her T-shirt. She slowly turned around to face him. “Yeah?” she asked.
“Uh, thanks for doing that . . . for offering to build the table and desk for Ted, I mean.”
“It’s not a big deal. I was trying to find a good semester project for the boys anyway. This was an easy solution.”
“It took the heat off of me though,” he continued. “He’s been asking for that chair and desk for months and I haven’t found the discretionary budget for it. I thought I might by the end of the year, but I know that’s not what he wanted to hear,” Derrick rambled as the last person left the room, leaving them alone. “I appreciate you handling it.”