Zane's Busy Bodies: Chocolate Flava 4

by Zane

  Delicately, he kissed her shoulders while freeing her from the cuffs. Spent, they both fell onto the bed in a spoon position. The warmth from their lovemaking blanketed their naked bodies.

  CHAPTER 3

  Knock knock! “Hey, wake up!”

  I jerked my body up completely, unaware of my surroundings. Slowly, I opened my heavy eyelids and saw Mr. Tim’s face pressed against my window. He wore a sly grin and an expression that made me think this was the highlight of his damn day. Just then, my alarm on my cell phone rang, a little too late to wake me.

  Wow! I thought to myself, had I really just dreamed all of that while taking a short nap? Of course I had. The moisture I felt in the crotch of my work pants told me so as I made my way out of the car.

  “Mr. Tim, can you give me five minutes? I need to take a bathroom break.”

  “Go ahead.”

  “Thanks.”

  Inside the restroom, I turned on the cold water at the sink. I cupped my hands and filled them with the water and splashed it on my face. I repeated this a few more times, then patted it dry with paper towels. Totally awake, I pulled a piece of mint gum from my purse and popped it into my mouth. The last thing I wanted to have was stale breath when standing close to a customer showing them their pictures on the viewer. I added on a layer of my favorite peach-stained lip gloss and opened the door.

  As I entered the main store area, I could see K. Miller entering the store through the automated doors. I’d almost hoped to miss her. There was no doubt that what I’d seen on the pictures was not the outcome she’d hoped for. I sensed that from her body language.

  “Just a minute, please, we’ll be right with you,” Tim said.

  “No problem,” K. Miller whispered as she tightened her arms about her waist and rocked from side to side. As Tim filled me in on what jobs had come in and gone out while I was on break, I watched K. Miller from my peripheral. She continued her self-hug rock dance but occasionally she would free her left hand and look at the tattoo.

  After another minute, Tim said his good-byes.

  “Sorry about that; he had to update me on orders before he left. I just returned from my break.”

  “So you didn’t see my pictures?” The way I averted my eyes and the couple of seconds of hesitation must have given her an answer. “Were they making love? Tell me.”

  “Umm, we aren’t supposed to look at the content of the pictures so I can’t answer that question.”

  From somewhere, K. Miller seemed to draw strength and a boldness that made her even more beautiful. “Just be honest with me; right now I’d really appreciate a little honesty from someone.”

  “Yes! He made love to someone.”

  “He? He! What he?”

  “The man in your pictures. That’s who you’re talking about, right?”

  “The man? Wow!” she said as she hit her forehead with the palm of her hand. “I had a feeling she was cheating but I never would have thought it was with a man. I installed the nanny cam in our bedroom, planning to catch her with another woman. I never considered this. I can’t and won’t compete with this. She is not only a cheat, but a complete lie. She has made our life a lie. She said she’s always only loved women and wanted to be with me always. We even had our own bonding ceremony,” she said, thrusting that tattooed left hand at me. On closer inspection, I could see the name Jillian tattooed on her ring finger surrounded by filigree. Now I really dreaded what I had to do next.

  Pulling the thick white envelope from the bin marked M, I slid it across the counter. She tore it open and fanned the pictures out. Immediately, she dropped to the floor and clutched her stomach.

  Speedily, I made my way through the waist-high swinging doors to the other side of the counter. I bent over and lifted K. Miller from the floor and held her in my arms.

  “I don’t believe in mistakes or coincidences. You came here to me to get proof and so I could mend your heart. See, my name is Kia Miller, or K. Miller, just like yours, and I absolutely love loving women.”

  Me and Mr. Jones

  Michelle Allen

  Buzzzz . . . buzz . . . I could hear the sound of my phone vibrating in my clutch bag. I instantly knew that it was a text from him, and was very curious to see what the message said.

  It was a simple: I want you.

  I smiled to myself before texting my response: I know.

  He replied quickly: Can I have you?

  Here? Now? I asked.

  Yes. I’m game if you are.

  I had to admit I was intrigued: You know I always am. But where?

  There’s a black Escalade limo sitting outside right now. Wait five minutes, then go and get in it.

  I only hesitated for about a half a second before I replied: See you in five.

  I could feel the heat rising off my skin, not only from thinking about what I knew was going to happen, but also thinking about the shit storm that would ensue if we got caught. Though, I must admit, that actually turned me on even more.

  I decided to use my five minutes wisely and took a quick trip to the ladies’ room. I already wasn’t wearing any underwear. Panty lines are not sexy, and my va-jay-jay is always bare as the day I was born; no worries there. So I checked my hair and makeup, and dabbed all the good spots with a little perfume, then sashayed back out the restroom door. The closer I got to the exit, the faster my heart beat, but I wasn’t nervous, more like electrified with excitement. I was about two feet from the front door when I heard this loud voice.

  “Vanessa Bradley, is that you?!”

  I started to pretend I didn’t hear him, but knowing the man behind the voice like I did, I figured he’d follow me outside if I didn’t answer. So I turned quickly, trying to hide my irritation.

  “Yes, it’s me. Hello, Marcus.”

  I didn’t ask how he was, because although I considered him a good friend, right now he was in my way. I was a woman on a mission.

  He leaned in for a quick hug and said, “Girl, you look wonderful. You’re definitely wearing the hell out of that dress.”

  I couldn’t help but smile because, shit, I did look good. I was wearing my black, off-the-shoulder, Michael Kors draped goddess gown that accentuated my curves and had a nice, high, mid-thigh split that highlighted my long legs. I was not going to leave the house today without looking extra sexy; the occasion demanded it.

  “Thank you, Marcus. You’re looking pretty good yourself.”

  He stepped back and looked me over once more.

  “V, I swear I don’t know how my brother ever let you get away. I always said Mom dropped him on his head when he was born.” He chuckled slightly.

  “Well, Marcus, that’s ancient history, and you know your brother and I are still very good friends. Besides, he seems to have done okay for himself, and I wish him well.”

  “Yeah, he’s all right, but still not the same as he was with you.”

  I was beginning to get a little uncomfortable with this conversation, and I needed to get outside quickly anyway, so I would have to talk to Marcus later.

  “Well, I need to run out to my car really quick, and get back inside before everything gets started. We’ll talk afterward, okay?”

  “Sure, V, I’ll see you later.”

  It had been longer than five minutes, so I put a little pep in my step. I opened the door to stride out into the warm summer evening, and there was the black stretch Escalade. I held my breath and reached for the handle, but the door was locked. I pulled my hand back, and felt a flash of disappointment.

  Then, just as I turned to walk back inside, I heard the window lower, and his deep, sexy baritone voice washed over me. “I guess you’re on c.p. time today,” he said, and then gave me that sexy smile.

  I smiled back. “Well, I’m here now, so are you going to let me in, or not?”

  He smiled again, and then the window went back up, and I heard the doors unlock. I looked around and then got inside.

  “Hello, Vanessa,” he said. “You look ab
solutely amazing.”

  “And you look very handsome yourself, Vincent.” Actually, Vincent Michael Jones was looking better than handsome, he looked absolutely . . . delicious. I just had to stop for a second and take him all in: six feet, with dark, wavy hair, and smooth, brown skin the color of warm caramel. He also had the sexiest, piercing brown eyes that always seemed to see straight into my soul. Vincent was wearing a custom-made Dolce & Gabbana tux that fit him perfectly, showing off how well defined his beautiful body was, even through all the fabric; he was simply exquisite.

  “V,” he began, “I wanted to tell you what it means for you to be here for me today of all days . . . I know it must be hard. . . .” His voice trailed off, and I understood that he was genuinely hurting. But that’s not what I wanted, I didn’t want him to be in pain, and I definitely didn’t want any sympathy. He began again. “V, you know . . . all you have to do is say the word. . . .”

  I had to stop him right there; he was not going to put me in that position.

  “Vincent, I know what you’re saying, but you know I won’t do that. So let’s not make this any harder than it has to be . . . let’s just enjoy the moment.” I could see him searching my face for any sign of uncertainty, but there was none.

  And just like that, he leaned in and kissed me, slowly and passionately. His lips felt so good, I swear they ignited every nerve in my body. I reached up and caressed the back of his head and pulled him in even closer, motivating him to kiss me harder. I could feel his hands searching my body, first at my neck, then down to my shoulders, where he slid off my dress, exposing my breasts. I could feel my pussy begin to throb faster and faster as he squeezed my dark brown nipples between his fingers, first one nipple, then both at the same time. He then traded his fingers for his mouth, taking his tongue and flicking it across my nipples and biting them gently. At this point I wanted him inside me so bad I could hardly stand it, but I knew Vincent, and he wouldn’t penetrate me until he did what he does best. He must have been reading my mind, because the next thing I knew I was feeling his fingers massaging and tugging gently at my clit, preparing for what I knew would come next. Vincent then turned me around so I was sitting upright with my back against the seat, and kneeled down in front of me on the floor of the limo. He was still sucking on my nipples as he raised the bottom of my gown, exposing my pussy completely. He looked at me with those eyes of his and gave me a sly wink, and then lowered his head between my legs. I swear, I think I started cumming from the first flick of his tongue, the feeling was so intense. He alternated between licking and sucking gently on my clit, while sticking one, then two fingers inside me. This man knew my body so well, he knew what I liked, and what drove me crazy, and he always made sure he did it. I must’ve cum two or three times before I had to stop him, just so I could catch my breath. I could see him giving me that cocky smirk he always gave when he thought he’d had me beat, but oh, no . . . I was going to make sure he remembered who he was dealing with.

  So I looked him dead in his eye and said, “Oh, so you think you’re bad, huh, Mr. Jones? Well, trust and believe, you’re nowhere near as bad as me.”

  Vincent raised his eyebrow, and replied, “Oh, really? Well, show me just how bad you are, Ms. Bradley.”

  I smiled and told him to lie back, and I would. He followed my directions eagerly because a brotha knew I would not disappoint. When I first pulled out his dick, I couldn’t help but smile at it because it was the most beautiful one I’d ever seen. It was thick, and about nine inches; simply perfect. I took it in my hands and massaged it gently, and then swirled my tongue around the head, taking it into my mouth deeper and deeper. I could feel his body reacting to the sheer pleasure he was experiencing, and it only motivated me even more. I took every inch of him into my throat until his dick seemed to disappear, and then would pull back until my mouth was only covering the head. I did this repeatedly because it drove him crazy. I could feel his body tensing, so he was about to climax, which made me speed up my pace. I applied a little more pressure with my mouth, and that did it. Vincent convulsed slightly, and I felt him release his warm liquid into the back of my throat. Vincent tasted wonderful, I was so glad he took care of himself, and ate healthy. You can tell a lot about a man’s diet by the way his semen tastes.

  Now that I had done my duty properly, I looked up at Vincent and had to ask, “Now, who’s the baddest?”

  He looked back at me, and replied breathlessly, “You . . . definitely! . . . Damn, girl, I need a minute. . . .”

  “Well, that’s all you have.” I looked at my watch. “Our time is very limited.”

  “Very true, so I’d guess I’d better get to work then.”

  And get to work he did. Vincent flipped me over so my knees were in the seat and I was facing the rear windshield of the limo, so he could hit it from the back; my second favorite position. When Vincent put his dick inside me, I had to gasp; he seemed to fill up every inch of me. He always said my pussy was made to fit him, and I was inclined to believe it. He moved himself all the way in, then all the way out, applying a little more force with every thrust. He gripped my ass and pulled me back onto him over and over, until I felt myself about to cum, but I didn’t want to, not just yet. So I pulled myself off him, and turned around. I told him to sit down so I could climb on top of him; my very favorite position. My motto is “Somebody’s gotta be on top, so it might as well be me,” and I knew just how much Vincent loved me riding his dick. So I gave him the best ride of his life. I worked my hips back and forth, up and down, side to side, in circles, and some more shit. Vincent was in such ecstasy, he kept moaning my name over and over. The only thing that made him stop was me putting my breasts in his mouth, and he sucked on them like a starved newborn baby. The feel of his dick, his tongue on my nipples, his hands squeezing my ass, it was just all too overwhelming. I could feel the most intense orgasm beginning to surge through my body. I sped up my pace and Vincent and I climaxed together, which was always the way it seemed to happen with us. Our bodies were in sync that way.

  Vincent looked at me and kissed me passionately, desperately even. Then he stared me straight in the eye and said, “Vanessa, I love you . . . more than I’ve ever loved anyone before, and in a way that I’ll never love anyone else. Please? . . .”

  As I looked into those gorgeous, pleading eyes, believe me, part of me wanted to give in, but I couldn’t; it just wouldn’t work. “Vincent, you know I love you, too, and I always will. But things are the way they have to be. Now I’m going to go freshen up, and I suggest you do the same. I’ll see you soon.”

  I kissed him, straightened my dress, finger-combed my hair, and got out of the limo. As I headed back inside to go to the ladies’ room, I thought about what had just happened, and what was about to happen, and I decided everything was as it needed to be. I went into the restroom and got myself all cleaned up, swirled around a little mouthwash, retouched the makeup, and I was good to go. I needed to get to my seat anyway, it was time to start.

  I walked in and sat down, and it was then that I saw Vincent again. He was standing there all fixed up and looking wonderful, and staring straight at me. I smiled at him, and he smiled back, but only for a second, because he had to refocus on the woman standing in the back of the room. So I stood and turned to look at her, as did everyone else.

  Winter Marie Henderson looked beautiful. She and I shared so many similarities; it was almost like looking in a mirror. We were both tall, with dark hair, fair skin, and brown eyes. But there was one major physical difference: the baby bump that was so subtly being hidden by the flowers in her hand. The other major difference was our personalities. She was quiet, demure, and the type of woman that would give up her entire career to be a stay-at-home mother and a housewife. Now don’t get me wrong, to dedicate your life to your husband and child is admirable, but it wasn’t for me. I’d worked entirely too hard to get where I was in my career to let it all go right then. And that was why she was the one in the white dress, and
I was sitting among the guests.

  I sat through Vincent’s wedding and did question whether I had made the right decision, but I did what had to be done. Vincent wanted to marry me, but I couldn’t be the type of wife he really wanted, so I set him free to find her, and find her he had.

  I stood and clapped as they were pronounced husband and wife, and gave hugs and well wishes in the receiving line. I danced with Marcus at the reception, and watched as Vincent and his new bride fed each other cake. I even stood with everyone and threw birdseed as the newlyweds rode off together into the night in the very same limo that Vincent and I had made love in just hours earlier. What I’d done was wrong on so many levels, but I didn’t regret it. I truly loved Vincent, he was my soul mate, but I had to let him go. So I resolved to do just that.

  I was heading across the parking lot to get in my car when I felt my phone vibrate again. I pulled it out of my purse, wondering who it might be. To my surprise, it was a text from Vincent.

  I have a business trip next month; I hope you’ll be willing to join me. Please?

  I was so conflicted. Sleeping with a married man was wrong, but I was beyond in love with Vincent.

  So I sent my reply: E-mail me the details.

  I got a simple as a response.

  The decision I’d just made wasn’t the smartest one. It could lead to all kinds of trouble. It was wrong, but then I thought about the old Luther Ingram lyrics, “If loving you is wrong . . . I don’t wanna be right.” So, with that decided, I got into my car and headed toward home, thinking about Vincent, my now-married lover.

  Shadow Dancer

  Landon Dixon

  She was there again, third night in a row. I took a drag on my cigarette, staring at the window across the alley, at the silhouette of the naked woman dancing behind the lighted shade.