Naughty

by Velvet

  “I’m her boyfriend,” he said, finishing her sentence.

  “Her what?” Tyler asked, mouth agape. She then shouted, “That’s impossible, because I’m her girlfriend!”

  “You mean her roommate,” he said, with an air of assurance in his voice.

  “Is that what she told you?” Tyler moved closer to the bed. “Tell him, Liz,” she demanded. “Tell him, damn it!”

  “Tyler is, uh,” Liz’s voice began to tremble, “Tyler is . . .”

  “I’m her LOVER!” Tyler screamed at the top of her lungs.

  Wayne dropped his hands from his privates. “Her what?”

  “You heard me. I’m her lover, damn it!”

  He looked confused. “What?”

  “Oh, Liz didn’t tell you that she’s a lesbian?” Tyler asked, dropping her voice to a low register and staring at her girlfriend, who had begun to cry.

  He suddenly began to chuckle, and then said with a sly grin, “Apparently not anymore.”

  She swung around to give him a piece of her mind, but stopped midsentence. She couldn’t believe her eyes. He was standing in the middle of the floor butt naked, stroking his dick and suggestively licking his lips. “Why don’t you come on over here and get some of this,” he said, massaging the tip of his now rock-hard penis.

  “Wayne. Please!” Liz shouted.

  “Aw, baby, let Daddy turn her out, like you know I can. The three of us can have a lot of fun. I’ve got more than enough to go around,” he said, stroking his shaft.

  Tyler thought she was going to throw up right on the spot. She could feel bile rising from the pit of her stomach. How could this be happening? She had no idea that Liz was bisexual. Liz never gave any indication that she was interested in men. Tyler felt like a stranger in her own house. She had to get out of there before she lost her lunch in the middle of the floor.

  Looking at Liz, she could see the devastation in her eyes. Tyler opened her mouth to speak, but no words came. A lone tear fell to her cheek, followed by another, and then another. “Good-bye, Liz,” she said in a soft whisper, and walked out with her head held high. There was no way she was going to completely lose her dignity in front of Liz and her man! So much for her American dream.

  7

  NAOMI WAS beyond pissed! It had been a few days since Jacob’s promise of serious lovemaking, and once again he was up and out of the house before she had a chance to open her eyes. He had called when she was in the shower, and left a lame message about an important early-morning meeting. He then promised yet again to make it up to her. Jacob had reneged on his word so many times that she was hard-pressed to believe anything that came out of his mouth. She listened to the message one more time before erasing it. Naomi had to admit that Jacob did sound sincere in his apology, but she still wondered why he was being so neglectful. He always had had a healthy sexual appetite, and it was hard to believe that his libido had done a complete one-eighty. He was still a relatively young man, and should have been making love to his wife on a regular basis. Though Naomi didn’t want to entertain the thought that her husband was screwing another woman, she couldn’t help but ponder the obvious. He wasn’t fucking her, so chances were he was fucking someone else. Naomi may have been a housewife, but she wasn’t an airhead. She knew that most men—especially her man—lived for sex. The more she thought about the possibility of Jacob cheating, the angrier she became. Naomi picked up the phone to call his office, but quickly put it back down. She had no evidence to support her theory, and would sound like a lunatic if she began hurling accusations at Jacob.

  I need proof, Naomi thought, sprang up from the side of the bed, and rushed into the closet. She started rifling through the pockets of his suit jackets and pants, hoping to find something—a book of matches, a hotel receipt, condoms—anything that would prove that he was having an affair. Her search proved futile. She found nothing. Naomi was relieved and frustrated at the same time. If Jacob wasn’t having an affair, then she was apparently the problem. Maybe he wasn’t attracted to her anymore. Naomi couldn’t fathom that reasoning either. She went to the gym on a regular basis and ate healthy. Her body was tight and in better condition than it was before she got pregnant. She also made a point to keep her hair and nails done weekly. If her husband didn’t desire her any longer, it was no fault of hers. She ran her hand across her taut midsection and rubbed her round ass. Well, if he doesn’t want all of this, I’m sure I can find someone who does. Naomi’s anger at being rejected by her husband was making her think irrationally. The thought of cheating had never entered her mind until now. She was tired of getting cheap thrills from a novel and wanted to feel a hard dick between her legs.

  Naomi stormed out of the closet and plopped back down on the bed. What the hell are you thinking? she asked herself. There was no way she would ever have an affair. She wouldn’t jeopardize losing her family over a quick fling. She picked up Auld Lang Syne and read the last few steamy pages. At least getting cheap thrills from a book was safe; that way she didn’t have to worry about getting caught in the act.

  After Naomi finished reading the novel, she went downstairs to the solarium, her makeshift office, and began finalizing the details of her son’s birthday party. She loved the ever-present sunlight of the room, and though it was designed for house plants, Naomi had put a desk, computer, printer, and fax machine in one of the corners, creating her own cozy workspace. She was extremely efficient, and had folders for every aspect of Noah’s party. He was their only child and she indulged him in every way possible. She had taken him to see a Broadway show a year before, and he wanted the theme of the musical incorporated into his party, as well as a Zorro theme. Noah was infatuated with the swashbuckler and wanted masks and capes for all his friends. Naomi had secured the capes, but had yet to buy the masks.

  She logged onto the Internet and began to search. She combed through several sites, but had yet to find an appropriate mask for children. Naomi couldn’t find a local source on the net, so she reached for the old reliable—the neighborhood Yellow Pages. She thumbed through to the M’s and found a section dedicated to masks. She earmarked a few companies and picked up the phone to call and find out more information. Instead of a dial tone, she was greeted by voices.

  “Beth, I’m sure you have preconceived notions of what a sex club is, but trust me, you’ve never seen anything like this before.”

  “And what makes this place so special, Rhoda?”

  “Well, for starters, it’s extremely sophisticated.”

  “How so?”

  “Instead of a run-of-the-mill champagne fountain, their fountain spews ice-cold Belvedere, and that’s just for starters. Every stitch of the decor, from the chandelier to the drapes, is imported from Europe, not some tacky knockoff. You know that I don’t give out compliments easily, but this place is exceptional.”

  Naomi didn’t know what they were talking about, but was intrigued nonetheless. Obviously she had been patched into someone else’s line by accident. She felt like the proverbial fly-on-the-wall, and continued to listen.

  “Exceptional? That’s a strong word,” the other lady on the phone said, sounding skeptical.

  “Well, I must give credit where credit is due, and the Black Door gets my vote hands down,” Rhoda said.

  “How long have you been a member?”

  “Ever since my divorce I’ve been celibate. Not by choice, mind you. I needed a tune-up, if you know what I mean. I wasn’t meeting any decent men, so Meri told me about this club that caters solely to the needs of women . . .”

  Naomi’s ears perked up. She desperately needed to be lubed up before she totally dried out, and this place seemed intriguing. She couldn’t believe her timing. She’d picked up the phone right in the middle of a conversation meant for her ears.

  “. . . men work there, but they can’t be members. And to ensure anonymity, everyone wears a mask, so nobody knows your real identity.”

  “Hmm, that’s interesting, but what about STDs?�
�

  “Well, all the members as well as the servers go through a rigorous screening process, which includes background checks and medical exams. I’m telling you this place is totally safe.”

  “You’re divorced, but I’m still married, and can’t take the chance of my husband finding out about my involvement in any type of scandal.”

  “Trust me; the Black Door is above reproach. Meri told me that some of New York’s wealthiest women are members, and she should know, since she’s a seven-figure diva.”

  “Mmm, I’ve known Meri for years, and wonder why she has never mentioned the Black Door to me?” Beth said.

  “She probably didn’t think you needed its services, since you have a man at home, while on the other hand, my bed has been empty for months.”

  “I may be married, but having a man at home is an understatement. Now that Doug has his own practice, he’s been working at the firm around the clock. I hardly ever see him. Don’t get me wrong, I love my husband . . . but a woman has needs.”

  Naomi nodded her head in agreement, even though the callers couldn’t see her.

  “Beth, I totally understand. What’s ironic is that most men think that a woman will just sit around and wait until they have time to sex us up.”

  “Those days of waiting patiently are long over. Besides, it’s not like I’d be having an ongoing affair, it’s just a club; and I decide when, with who, and for how long.”

  “You’re right; it’s like going to the gym, except the muscles you’re working out aren’t visible to the naked eye.”

  They both laughed, and then Beth asked, “Okay, I’m in. How does the initial process go?”

  “As far as I know, you have to be referred by a member. So let me call the club and give them your name and number, and someone from the Black Door will contact you,” Rhoda told her.

  “Okay, just be sure to give them my cell number. I don’t want some stranger calling the house in case Doug happens to be home.”

  “No problem. Oh, goody! I’m so happy you’re going to join. Now we can really let our hair down!”

  Naomi was anything but happy. She had gotten excited hearing about the Black Door, but unfortunately Rhoda—the woman who was a member—didn’t divulge any pertinent information, such as an address or telephone number. The only thing Naomi knew was that a club existed that took care of a woman’s needs.

  The women had changed the subject, and were now talking about finding a good hairstylist. Naomi already had the bomb stylist, and wasn’t interested in hearing any more of their conversation.

  She clicked the phone off and began frantically thumbing through the Yellow Pages. When she got to the B’s, she ran her finger down the pages, looking for a listing for the Black Door, but found nothing. I should have known it wouldn’t be listed. I bet I’ll find it on the Internet. She typed “The Black Door” in Google’s search box, and hit enter. Naomi read every listing, but nothing resembled the club. She then thought back and remembered that the woman had said membership was by referral only. The owner was clever enough to keep the club off the radar of the general public. Though Naomi didn’t find what she was looking for, she admired the fact that the Black Door wasn’t pedestrian, which really piqued her interest.

  I wish I knew this Meri person, or someone who was a member. Now that she was aware of the club, she wanted to know more. If her husband was indeed having an affair, it would give her justification for the possibility of also having a lover on the side. Naomi had never thought about cheating before, and didn’t know if she could actually carry out the deed, but one thing she knew for sure, and that was, she was tired of putting Jacob’s desires before her own. Naomi had given in to Jacob and agreed to move to the suburbs, but she hadn’t agreed to being neglected. Had she known that Jacob would be spending most of his time at the office, she would have started her interior design career years ago. At least then she would have something else to occupy her time with instead of just being a housewife and mother. She loved taking care of her son, but wanted more out of life than keeping a nice home, and waiting for her husband to pay her some attention. If she couldn’t get the attention she needed at home, then maybe she would seek it out elsewhere.

  8

  TODAY WAS Noah’s fifth birthday and Naomi was trying to break the bank. There were no ordinary helium balloons with streamers strung to the mailbox. Oh, no, there was nothing ordinary about this party. No puppet show, no petting zoo, no storytelling, and no magicians. Instead of the run-of-the-mill kiddy party with face painting and clumsy clowns, Naomi had chosen an Into the Woods theme. She had taken Noah to see the play and he fell in love with the characters. The Broadway musical by Stephen Sondheim was set in a mystical forest, combining various fairy tales. There were two twenty-foot-tall weeping willow prop trees on either side of the doorway, with drooping branches framing the entrance of the house. The overall effect simulated entering an enchanted forest.

  Jacob unlocked the door and the moment he stepped inside of the foyer, he was instantly transported to the Broadway stage. It was as if a Tony award-winning set designer had come in and transformed the entire living room. The sofa, cocktail table, and two Maurice Villency chairs that usually sat in the center of the room were pushed against the far wall. In the space where the furniture once stood were two huge, adjoining, eight-foot-tall storyboards with a fairy-tale village of cobblestones and gingerbread cottages painted on the front. Covering the floor in place of their Moroccan area rug was emerald green indoor/outdoor carpeting. In addition to the play’s theme, there were also Zorro masks decorating the walls, in honor of Noah’s hero du jour.

  Naomi had hired student actors from a local theater company to act out certain scenes from the play. Four actresses costumed as Cinderella, her stepmother, and wicked stepsisters, Florinda and Lucinda, whisked past Jacob as he entered the living room, followed by a masked actor, no doubt Zorro himself.

  “Daddy, Daddy,” Noah cried, running through one of the miniature doorways of the fake village, “goody, goody, you’re home.”

  “Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday, dear Noah, happy birthday to you,” Jacob sang, reaching down and swooping his son high in the air.

  “Daddy, Daddy, put me down.” He struggled. “You’re going to wrinkle my costume.” Noah was dressed as Jack from Jack and the Beanstalk, in brown tweed knickers, white knee socks, an emerald green vest, a white cotton shirt with billowy sleeves and an oversized collar and cuffs. Clenched in his right hand was a toy cow.

  “What’s that, Buddy?” Jacob asked, referring to the tiny animal.

  Noah looked at him as if he had just asked the world’s dumbest question. “Daddy, this is Milky White, Jack’s best friend. Now let me down. Let me down.”

  The moment Jacob released him, Noah ran back through the miniature door. And from the sound of several petite voices beyond the village facade, Jacob assumed that’s where the rest of the children were playing.

  “Jacob, I’m so glad you’re home. These kids are driving me crazy,” Naomi complained, appearing from behind the facade.

  “Wow, look at you!” he said, commenting on his wife’s costume. She was dressed as the witch, the role played by the beautiful Vanessa Williams. In the first half of the play, Vanessa donned an ugly Wicked Witch of the West–type mask, with warts and all. But at the end of Act I, after losing her powers, she was transformed back into a stunning beauty dressed in a sexy, form-fitting, bloodred evening gown.

  “You like it?” She spun around so he could get the full effect. The crimson gown plunged low in the front, just enough to give a glimpse of cleavage without revealing too much. The silky fabric hugged her hips and fishtailed out in the back. Her long brown hair was parted on the side and covered one eye like Jessica Rabbit, the sexy character from the movie Who Framed Roger Rabbit.

  Jacob walked over and gave her a kiss on the forehead. “You look great, hon!”

  “Now we have to get you into costume,” she said, taking his
hand and leading him toward the staircase.

  “Me in costume?” Jacob stopped midstride. He had no intention of wearing a silly costume. “What are you talking about?”

  Naomi tugged at his hand. “Come on, Jacob. You’re going to be the Narrator. I already have the outfit laid out on the bed.”

  When they reached the bedroom, there, in the center of the bed, was a gray flannel, three-piece suit, a white French-cuffed shirt, horn-rimmed spectacles, and three leather-bound, oversized storybooks. He breathed in a sigh of relief, glad that he didn’t have to dress as some grotesque ogre with a hunchback and an exaggerated limp.

  “What happened to Tinky Winky and the gang?” he asked, referring to the original party theme.

  “Noah has outgrown the Teletubbies,” Naomi said, picking up one of the volumes. “Now, Jacob, as the Narrator, all you have to do is read a fairy tale from each book.” She handed him the scarlet, leather-bound book. “This one is ‘Little Red Riding Hood.’ The other two are ‘Rapunzel’ and ‘Rumpelstiltskin.’ ”

  Most people didn’t realize that the German-born Grimm brothers wrote not of dreamy idyllic fairy tales, but of the often cruel and poverty-stricken life of Europe in the early 1800s. Over the centuries, their crude tales were softened into children-friendly stories. “I think I can manage that,” Jacob said, and began to change into his costume.

  “Don’t be long. The natives are getting restless. After Zorro performs a few sword tricks, they’ll be ready for a story.” Naomi turned to leave, but stopped. “So”—she ran her hand up and down her midsection—“you like the dress?” she asked suggestively.

  “Yeah, it really looks great on you.”

  “I bet it’ll even look better on the floor, once I take it off tonight.” Naomi had purposely chosen the sexy costume to make her husband drool with desire.

  Jacob cast his eyes to the costume on the bed. He had forgotten about his earlier promise to make love to his wife, but obviously she hadn’t. “Yep, I bet so,” he said lamely.