Risqué

by Perri Forrest

  Signed,

  Your host

  -4-

  “Ohhh, Trevorrr . . .” the woman purred animatedly, her face buried into the pillow beneath her. Trevor knew that the woman couldn’t get enough of him. She was no different than all the others that came to him. He was convinced that his sole purpose on earth was to excel at gaming, and to fuck the shit out of both the horny, and the neglected. And he provided service with a smile. Had one plastered across his face right now. He wasn’t even giving her his full attention, and still had her hollering like a wild beast. Imagine that, he thought to himself as he showed her no mercy. Twenty-four-year-old me, serving cock to a woman the same age as my mother. Wasn’t the best pussy he’d had, but the money was damn good, so he wouldn’t be stopping any time soon. “Fuckkk me!” she begged in a loud cry laced with desperation. “It’s sooo . . . ahhh! Yes! Oh, Trevorrr . . . yessss!”

  In front of Trevor, the television was muted, but airing Nick Cannon’s Wildin’ Out, on VH1. When his phone started to ring, Trevor slowed his stroke to see who was calling.

  “Nooo, Trevor . . .” she sighed, turning to look back at him. She smiled. “Please.”

  Trevor put his finger to his lips to silence her, then mouthed, “It’ll just take a second.” He swatted her across her crimson-colored ass, then pulled out and walked out of the room. “Stay right there,” he told her before closing the bedroom door behind him.

  “Hey, what’s up?” he asked when he answered the call.

  “What do you mean what’s up? I’ve been calling.”

  “I texted you.”

  “I got that shit. All those laughing emojis! Shit is not even a little bit funny.”

  “The important thing was that it was done. And when it was done, I got busy.”

  “Are you fucking serious?”

  “Chill out,” he laughed.

  “What the hell is so funny?”

  “You’re funny that’s what. What are you even mad about anyway?”

  “The fact that you almost fucked up. That’s what.”

  “But I didn’t, did I?”

  “Almost is fucked up enough, in my book.”

  “Well then, turn the fucking page because I did what I was supposed to do. You’re always bent out of shape about something. You need to loosen the fuck up.”

  “No, I don’t need to loosen up. This shit is important and I can’t have any parts of it go wrong.”

  He hunched his shoulders nonchalantly. “My part is done. So, can’t shit go wrong with that. What’s in that damn box anyway?”

  “I might’ve told you if your ass wouldn’t have almost gotten caught. What was so hard about putting it there at 3:30 like I told you to? You want to go waiting until she damn near pulled up.”

  “I can’t help it that I had something going on at that exact time. She didn’t see me, has no clue, and she took the box in the house with her. So yeah. And you do know you could’ve gotten anybody else to get it to her.”

  “Not really. It would’ve been too much involved. This was easier.”

  “Cool. And now that I’ve made shit so easy, where’s my compensation that we talked about?”

  “It was sent to your Cash App.”

  “Okay, cool. I appreciate it. And let me know if you need anything else. I’m here.”

  “I think everything is good from here. We appreciate the help.”

  “Wait . . . who is we?”

  “That’s information you don’t need. Enjoy your day, Trevor.”

  -5-

  Non-disclosure agreements signed. Check.

  Security hired for each section. Check.

  Transportation coordinated. Check.

  DJ confirmations received. Check.

  Bartenders hired. Check.

  Hostesses hired. Check

  Elisa Brown scribbled notes on pink sheets of college-ruled paper, that were clipped to the pink clipboard in her hand. On the top of page, she had a checklist, that it seemed she was adding something new to every day. Now, with the day of the event upon her, she was starting to feel the panic. As part-owner of a luxury event planning company, left to her and her sister, Alyssa, by her aunt a few years earlier, Elise took her job extremely serious. This particular event, a monthly event called, the 13th Floor, was one that their company, A Queenz Plan, had been in charge of since its inaugural ten years earlier. Only thing, it was her recently-deceased, Aunt Sable, who had secured the account. So, A Queenz Plan had a lot to prove, and Elise planned to do just that. It was their first and only time to get it right.

  “Alyssa! Sis, where are you?” Elise called out over her walkie talkie, after realizing that she hadn’t heard from her sister in quite some time.

  Elise sat her clipboard down on the hanging windowsill, and then took out her cellphone to dial her sister. She stared out over the stunning view, where far in the distance, she could see wild horses galloping in packs. After the third ring, her call fell into voicemail. “What the hell, Al?” she mumbled, her frustration mounting.

  For Elise, it didn’t matter that they still had several hours to work with; it mattered that Alyssa was MIA while she was supposed to be working. They had twenty employees in different locations of the large space. And those twenty employees needed to be managed.

  It pissed Elise off having to deal with just how irresponsible her sister could be. It was why she didn’t want to go into business with Alyssa at all. After all, it was Elise who was there working beside their aunt on all the events she planned. She had been doing it since she was sixteen, so now at thirty years old, it was her that knew the ropes. Through and through, and thoroughly. Alyssa wanted the monetary gain, only. And thus, the reason she was slacking off. Elise had had enough. She snatched up her walkie talkie, and her clipboard, then went in search of her sister.

  She better have a damn good excuse for blowing me off!

  With each footfall, one could hear how angry Elise was by the aggression of her heel hitting the floor beneath her. She walked past staff busy at work, and for each one that she passed, her anger mounted. There was five-thousand square feet of space to search on that floor and fifteen rooms.

  “I’m present . . .” Elise heard, come through her walkie talkie. “Over by the elevator.”

  Elise looked in the distance and saw her sister waving, walking her way. She strutted like she didn’t have a care in the world, her gum popping, echoing in the wind. That further fueled Elise’s temper.

  “What are you doing, Al? Why would you go missing like that? In the middle of everything. You need to be here . . . working,” Elise scolded.

  “I went down to the other floor to make a phone call.”

  Elise sighed angrily, but kept her voice low. “Are you serious right now?”

  “Yeah. What’s the problem? I’m here now,” Alyssa snapped, completed unaffected by her sister’s obvious anger.

  Although there was two years between them, with Alyssa being the older of the two, they looked more like twins. With their matching pixie cuts, thick eyebrows, full lips, and petite frames, they looked like they could be first cousins of Megan Goode. Elise huffed as she squared up eye to eye with her sister, ready for battle.

  “Alyssa, listen to me and listen good. Auntie’s legacy will not be ruined because of you and your lazy-ass bullshit. I told you that if you didn’t want to do this, you didn’t have to.”

  “And I told you that if I didn’t do it, then we would be fighting in court about selling this shit and splitting the money. You don’t want to sell, then you’re stuck with me.”

  “Well then be muthafuckin’ present,” Elise seethed, ready to fight her sister right then and there if she had to. “Stop worrying about a fuckin’ white boy that don’t give a fuck about you. That’s really why you want to sell, because you want to fund that fuck boy’s lifestyle. A whole dummy for a pink dick . . . community dick, muthafucka.” Elise shook her head in disgust, all while making sure that none of their hired staff was close enou
gh, to hear the exchange.

  Alyssa had fire in her eyes when she spoke. “How is it dumb when we’re in love? Huh, Elise?” She folded her arms across her chest, her stance defiant. “How is it dumb? Just because he’s white? I could say the same about you around her licking clit. That shit is not only a sin, it’s disgusting. At least what I’m doing—”

  “Is being dumb. I’d rather be lesbian and be loved down the right way, than be blinded by a unworthy dude that don’t give a fuck about you. You’ll see. But in the meantime, we need to get to work. You here or not? If not, then gone to your obsession, and leave me to it. If so, get back on your crew and let’s get this shit lookin’ like it’s supposed to.”

  The sister’s combative stares lingered for a few long seconds before Alyssa spoke. “My bad for disappearing on you like that. I was wrong. I’ll eat that. And look. You don’t speak on my relationship, and I won’t speak on yours.”

  Elise shrugged. “That works for me. As long as you don’t let what you got with him, interfere with what we got going on. This is business—that’s not.”

  “That’s fair.”

  “Alright, cool. Now that all that’s out the way. Let’s get this shit poppin’.”

  -6-

  My alarm went off at 8PM. Imagine that. An alarm . . . when I said that I wouldn’t be operating off of a structured waking system. It was for a good reason, though. It was a week later, and the day of the mystery event had arrived.

  Even with the nap, I felt as though I hadn’t been to sleep. And maybe I hadn’t.

  The night I finally sent off my RSVP, I sat through both, “Can you Stand the Rain,” the extended version, and “Mr. Sensitivity,” staring at the drafted email. My heart had to be beating at the speed of light. I had never stared at a computer screen for that long—doing nothing—in all my life. I did some kind of countdown in my head where I promised on the count of three . . . then the count of ten . . . that I would hit the send button. And by the time I finally did hit the send button, two Johnny Gill songs and Bobby Brown’s “Storm Away”, had come and gone. When the message had finally gone into cyberspace, and I couldn’t recall it, that’s when I allowed the inner voices back in to tell me how crazy I was. How dumb it was for me to even consider attending this thing without knowing all the details.

  I was a ball of nerves. I still hadn’t had the pleasure of my toys. I couldn’t get into mode enough to relax. $150 worth of product wasted. At least for now. Now the liquor, that was a whole other story. I didn’t have a problem at all with throwing back some feel-good. Even though tipsy was only ever temporary, at least it afforded me some sense of peace.

  That is, up until the high wore off.

  Now, with the night upon me, I couldn’t wait to see if I would actually be bold enough to walk out of my house wearing sexy lingerie, and five-inch heels. Even though it would be evening, because of summer, it still wouldn’t be dark enough when the driver arrived, which according to the confirmation I received, would be somewhere around 9:00.

  Stop worrying.

  Live.

  You need this.

  Live a little.

  Those were the mini lectures I gave myself several times over, as this day approached. The voices came a lot more frequently, now that the day was upon me.

  If I was being honest, I knew exactly what the primary force was, that was driving my decision to make such a bold move. I accepted a long time ago that I needed something new in my life. Admittedly, what I was doing was extreme, but nothing in me triggered warning signs. Nerves, yes. But fear of anything happening to me? Surprisingly, no. Doing something new, something unexpected. I needed that. All I’d known was matrimony, diapers and PTA’s. Then after that, divorce, liquor, dildos . . . and more PTA’s.

  Every now and again, I tried figuring out who had sent me the box of amazing gifts. And then my inner coach would yell, “Forget that part! Just go!”

  The robe’s silky material was so soft that I couldn’t wait to feel it against my skin. The simplicity of it made it all that more sexy. And not just that, it complemented my complexion perfectly. I used to spend hours online looking at Victoria’s Secret lingerie, but never ordered anything. What for? There was really no need. The man I was married to, never showed up enough during sex to create a scene. What we did in bed—and bed was the only place we’d done anything—was at a basic level. A nipple rub here, maybe a nip at my earlobe, a tease of the clit there, and then penetration. In my opinion, it hadn’t progressed too far from the sex we used to sneak and have as teenagers. Ordering lingerie of any kind would have been lost on any of those moments. So, I robbed myself of the sexy. Now, however, I was about to not only wear my first piece of lingerie, I was going to a party in it!

  But the thought of ‘who?’ was always lurking. Would I get to this thing and come face-to-face with somebody that I knew? Would it be somebody that I’ve known for a while? Would it be anybody that I really even knew? Because if I knew them, wouldn’t they have confessed by now? Wouldn’t I have gotten a call, text, email?

  In the middle of my brainstorm, I could hear, “You overthink way too much. It’s okay sometimes to just go with the flow…” It was the voice of the last person in the world I should ever be listening to. Even so, the words from my past, taunted me. They were his words. My former best friend, my childhood sweetheart . . . my ex-husband. Although I could hear his stern words and the condescending way in which he spoke them, they still made me take pause. Because in this moment, they seemed to apply . . .

  At 8:30, with E-40’s “Candy” remix bumping in the background, I began gathering the pieces to my evening outfit, and laying them across my freshly-made bed. The cream next to the red, just screamed sexy, sensual. I couldn’t help the smile that opened my face wide. The anticipation was building. I just hoped that the momentum would stay and not keep crashing into those on-again/off-again bouts with insecurity.

  Since I had taken my shower before napping, I was ready to get myself together.

  I started with my makeup application. I went heavier than normal on the makeup. Matte bronze on my cheeks, heavy on the mascara and eyeliner to really make my eyes pop. I was going to wear a plain matte lip color, but decided instead to be on the bolder side and apply something closer to the color of the chemise. Ruby Woo, with a top of clear glass for shine. It worked. Kind of had me looking like a whole other person, which wasn't necessarily a bad thing.

  I dabbed a generous amount of Romance Rose behind my ears, on my wrists, and behind my neck and the room came alive with my refreshing scent. And when I finally put the outfit on, you couldn’t tell me nothin’! I looked good. Real good. Everything was complementary, from the color coordinates, to my hair, to the feel of the softness against my skin.

  With twenty minutes to spare, I decided to get something from my liquor cabinet to seal the deal. In the kitchen, I tossed back a double shot of Patron, and then plopped a stick of Juicy Fruit into my mouth. Whew! The burn of the alcohol and the sting of the mint kicked me immediately. Had my eyes wide open. Alert.

  -7-

  I wasn’t sure of the time, but it seemed that approximately an hour later, the driver pulled up to our destination. On the way there, it went from bright city lights, to suburban and then downtown. But once we hit the 95, the setting changed to mostly hills and distant lighting. But then a gorgeous community came into view. A community that seemed to be all its own. There wasn’t too much around except for the location we pulled into. But that location was huge, and gave the appearance of some kind of luxury office building. It lit up like nothing I had witnessed before.

  The road we drove down to reach the place was long and guarded, so it amazed me that it was as bright as it was. Made it easy to spot. But the fact that it was guarded said that while it was kind of visible, you certainly wouldn’t be able to get in without the right access.

  “So bright and so pretty,” I uttered to myself, ducking to see more of the black and glass structure coming
into view. I was hypnotized by the brightness, the mysterious allure. The place had to have the most expensive electricity bill, ever. Everything was lit, from the parking lot to the area surrounding the building.

  Immediately, intimidation sat on my lap, and I regretted not taking another two shots of my Patron. Thought I’d taken enough down to drink the butterflies into a drunken stupor. Yet, there I was with sweaty palms and a quick-tapping leg. I was beyond afraid to step out the vehicle with this cream-colored piece of sexiness.

  “Ma’am . . . I heard to the right of me, not even sure at what moment the door opened.

  “Oh,” I said in surprise, wondering if he’d think I was crazy if I asked him to take me back to where he got me. “Umm . . .” I stammered.

  Along with a smile, he offered me his hand to take. “I can assure you there’s absolutely nothing to be afraid of.”

  My eyes slightly bucked, then I offered him a warm smile. “I see I have a mind-reader in my midst.”

  “Not a mind reader,” he said with that handsome smile. “But a people reader. You’re reluctant; saw that in your body language when I picked you up. The way you looked around like you were a fugitive running from the law.” He released a friendly chuckle.

  “You saw that, huh?” I said, feeling slightly embarrassed at my actions.

  “Oh yes,” he confided. “I definitely saw it. But look. If it’s any consolation, this event is highly sought after in some pretty elite circles. It’s kind of a big deal.”

  “Really?” And then I couldn’t help but ask. “Do you know how people come to be invited to this?”

  Another laugh escaped from him. “Different circumstances for different people. I just know that everyone here . . . everyone . . . is carefully vetted. They don’t play.”

  “Okay. Well, thanks for that,” I smiled.