Naughty

by Velvet

  Mira went back into her bedroom with the champagne. She picked up the remote to the plasma television mounted to the wall, and pressed the on button. She sat on the bed and switched channels. Mira was trying to occupy her time until Tyler arrived but there was nothing interesting on. She was accustomed to hectic workdays filled with meetings and snuffing out fires. Sitting around watching the boob tube was foreign territory to Mira.

  She poured another glass of champagne and glanced at the clock on her nightstand. Only fifteen minutes had passed. If I sit here another second, I’m going to die of boredom, she thought. With the liquor fueling her desire, and time on her hands, Mira decided to put the television to good use and watch a porn flick. She walked over to the entertainment center, pushed the corner of one of the doors, and it popped open. She took a DVD out of the compartment, slid it into the player, and got back into bed.

  The movie was one of her favorites. She poured another glass of bubbly, spread her legs, and got ready to perform along with the actors.

  The opening shot was of two pairs of bare feet standing on white shag carpeting. The feet were facing each other, and the smaller pair, with orange-painted toenails, was on tippy-toe. The camera slowly panned up the legs, to the thighs, to the two erect dicks. One cock belonged to a hairy man, and the other one belonged to a double D-cup “tranny.” The transsexual had a serious rack, and an equally big dick. Obviously she was still waiting to get “downsized.” The pair was engaged in a heated kiss, with their tongues battling for power. The tranny lost the fight, and was forced down on her knees by her lover. She then began to lick his balls, and suck the head on his cock. He grabbed her hair, forcing his jimmy farther down her throat, until it disappeared, and all you could see was his scrotum slapping against her chin as she feasted on his sausage.

  “Suck that dick, girl,” Mira said as she slipped her fingers in and out of her hot box. Though she was into eating pussy, she still loved dick—especially a big one—and enjoyed riding the sole pole from time to time. Unlike Tyler, Mira was a true-blue bisexual. Now that she was seeing Tyler, she promised herself she wouldn’t double-dip. But that didn’t include watching a little dick action, so she kept her eyes glued to the screen.

  While the b.j. was taking place, in walked a set of identical twins, both with bad weaves, but with killer bodies. The women stood on each side of the man, and began kissing his neck, cheeks, and mouth. He responded in turn by backing up and lying on the bed, all the while pulling the tranny by the hair so that her grip on his dick didn’t slip. The moment he lay on his back, one of the twins squatted on his face, and he started eating her out.

  Watching the quarto-trios, Mira salivated as his tongue flicked in and out of the woman’s twat. She wanted a little action herself, so she opened the nightstand drawer and took out her trusty vibrator. But before she could pleasure herself, the phone rang. Mira started to let the machine take the call, but she thought it might be Tyler, so she pressed pause on the remote and picked up.

  “Hello?”

  “Ms. Rhone, this is Henry Bishop calling from the lab.”

  “Hi, Henry, what can I do for you?” Mira hoped that he had a quick question, so that she could get back to her movie.

  “Your assistant told me that you were taking a personal day, and I’m sorry to bother you, but I need for you to come down to the lab.”

  “Why? Where’s Nigel? Can’t he handle whatever’s going on?”

  “I can’t get in touch with him, and I need for you to sign off on the new formula. I know there are time restraints on getting the product to market, and the sooner this is approved, the sooner we can go to the next phase,” he said, speaking in a rushed tone.

  “Sure, Henry. I’ll be right there.”

  Mira disconnected the call and then phoned Tyler. “Hey, I need to rush down to the office. I’ll leave the key with the doorman, so you won’t have to wait in the lobby in case I’m not back when you get here.”

  “Okay, no problem. See you later.”

  The moment Mira hung up, she put the vibrator back in the drawer, took the DVD out of the player, and made the transformation from freak momma to CEO. Mira dressed in a black tailored Armani pants suit with a white silk blouse, brushed her hair into a bun, grabbed her briefcase, and headed out the door. On her way to the office, all she could think was, Where the hell is Nigel?

  36

  THE CARS along Lexington Avenue were lined bumper to bumper, parking lot–style, in a complete standstill. Waiting impatiently in the traffic, Kennedy nervously fidgeted from side to side in the backseat of the taxi. She craned her neck out of the passenger window to see what the holdup was, but all she saw was a sea of yellow cabs, with a smattering of town cars.

  Kennedy dug in her handbag for her cell phone to try Nigel one more time before storming Mira’s office. His cell rang once, before going directly into voice mail. She tried his home number but again no answer. Where the hell is he? Out of frustration, she pressed the power button, turned the phone off and threw it back in her purse.

  Just as the traffic was working on her one good nerve, it began to move at a snail’s pace. She could have run faster than the slow-moving vehicles and was tempted to jump out of the taxi and sprint down the street, but she stayed put. Patience is a virtue, she thought as the traffic revved up a few minutes later.

  Once the cab pulled up in front of FACEZ’s sleek granite building, it occurred to Kennedy that she hadn’t formulated a script in her mind. She didn’t want to come right out and accuse Nigel of treason, nor did she want to play cat and mouse. Mira seemed much too smart for that game. Kennedy paid the driver, got out, and played Soul Train Scramble Broad with the jumbled words in her mind, tossing them around until the puzzle was solved. With the dialogue solidified, she exhaled a breath of confidence and went through the revolving door.

  Kennedy’s heels clicked loudly as she crossed the marble lobby toward the directory panel to her left. She scanned the alphabetical list and found Mira’s name, rank, and suite number. Armed with the exact location, Kennedy took the elevator to the twenty-first floor.

  “Can you please direct me to Ms. Rhone’s office?” she asked the receptionist.

  “Your name, please.”

  “Kennedy Bryant.”

  The receptionist called Mira’s secretary and then said, “It’s the last office at the end of the hall,” pointing the way.

  Kennedy’s armpits were moist with perspiration from the nervous energy coursing through her body as she neared Mira’s office. “I’m here to see Ms. Rhone,” she announced to the secretary.

  “Do you have an appointment?” asked the assistant, giving Kennedy a scrutinizing look.

  Kennedy hadn’t thought of calling ahead to schedule a meeting with Mira. What if she isn’t available? “Uh, no,” she responded, feeling like an imbecile for not anticipating the obvious.

  “I’m sorry, but she doesn’t see anyone without an appointment,” the woman said in a condescending tone.

  “Can you just tell her Kennedy Bryant is here?”

  She raised an eyebrow and asked, “From?”

  “I’m a personal friend,” Kennedy said, stretching the truth, and smiled, trying to disarm her. “I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d stop by to say hello,” she said, lying again.

  The overprotective assistant looked skeptical, and then slowly dialed Mira’s extension on the intercom. “Ms. Rhone, I know you just walked in a little while ago, but a Ms. Kennedy Bryant is here to see you.” She nodded, hung up, and said reluctantly, “You can go in.”

  When Kennedy entered Mira’s office, she was on the phone and motioned for her to have a seat. Kennedy couldn’t believe the opulence of the furnishings. Mira’s desk, a five-foot Biedermeier, must have cost a small fortune. A crimson ultra-suede sofa in the same hue as FACEZ’s signature red lipstick sat in the far corner in a living room–type environment. She took a seat in one of the matching chairs and waited for Mira to complete her call.


  “Henry, I’ll be right down. I’m just finishing up another call.” She released one line, clicked over to another, and instantly jumped back into the conversation. “Oliver, I’m looking at the report as we speak,” Mira said, holding a spreadsheet in one hand and the receiver in the other. “I see the numbers for the DNA 4U beauty cream are up from last quarter.” She leaned back in her chair smiling.

  While Mira engaged in her business call, Kennedy decided to turn her phone back on and check messages. Sixty seconds after she clicked the phone on, it beeped three consecutive times, indicating that she had messages. Maybe it’s from Nigel, she thought, dialing into the voice-mail system.

  “Kennedy, this is Monica, calling to see if you can switch off days with me? Hit me back when you get this message. Bye.” Kennedy made a mental note to call her back and erased the call.

  “Ken, call me, it’s extremely important!” It was Naomi, sounding frantic.

  She began to immediately dial the number. Normally Naomi was calm and reserved, but there was an urgency in her voice that was alarming.

  “What a surprise!” Mira spoke from across the room once she finished her call. The last time she saw Kennedy was at the book club meeting, and Kennedy seemed to be in a bad mood. Mira started to mention the incident, but decided not to. Being a busy executive, she didn’t have many friends, and was actually enjoying the camaraderie of the book club.

  Kennedy stopped in mid-dial, stood up, walked over to Mira’s desk, and took a seat in one of the chairs facing her. “Hey there, I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d drop by to check out the haunts of a mogul.” She smiled. Kennedy knew that she had acted ugly at the book club meeting, and hoped that Mira wouldn’t mention it.

  “What mogul? Where?” Mira laughed, turning from side to side, peering over her shoulder.

  The prepared script suddenly vanished from Kennedy’s mind, and she smiled nervously, not knowing how to broach the subject of Nigel and her suspicions. It wasn’t like they were best friends, so she had to tread lightly. “Don’t be modest. Your company has been on the Fortune 500 list for years, and it wouldn’t be there if it wasn’t for good leadership,” Kennedy said, stroking Mira’s ego, trying to extend the idle chitchat until her pre-rehearsed speech reappeared.

  “So . . . what really brings you by?” Mira asked, curious to know the real reason for Kennedy’s visit.

  Realizing that the direct approach was the best approach, Kennedy said, “It’s about Nigel.”

  Mira furrowed her brow, causing lines to form across her smooth forehead, “Nigel? What about him?”

  “I think he’s . . .” Kennedy stopped midsentence, looked down, and began to wring her hands. She didn’t want to admit that the man she had envisioned a future with was possibly sabotaging FACEZ.

  Mira brought her chair closer, put her elbows on the desk, and asked, puzzled, “What is it, Kennedy? You think he’s what?”

  “He’s . . .” Before the words could escape Kennedy’s lips, her cell phone rang. The phone was still in her hand from earlier. She looked down at the caller ID. It was Naomi. Kennedy started to let the call go to voice mail, but remembered the urgency in Naomi’s voice and decided to answer the phone.

  “Excuse me,” she mouthed. “Hello?”

  “Ken, it’s me. Are you with Mira?” Naomi panted, as if out of breath.

  “Yeah, what’s up?” Kennedy asked, trying to sound casual.

  “Have you told her about the check?”

  “No, not yet.”

  Naomi exhaled heavily. “Good. Don’t say a word. I can explain everything. Just get the heck out of there and meet me at your apartment.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Positive. See you in a few,” Naomi said, hanging up.

  Mira had Kennedy in a death stare, waiting for her to continue. “As you were saying?”

  “Uh, uh,” Kennedy stammered, trying to devise a clever lie. “I think he’s a great guy, and uh, I’m sorry it didn’t work out with you two,” she said lamely. So much for being clever.

  Mira looked at Kennedy as if she were a few fries short of a Happy Meal. “What? You came all the way up here to tell me that?”

  “Yep.” Kennedy stood up. “See you tomorrow at the book club meeting. Gotta run,” she said in a huff, and tore out of Mira’s office, leaving her sitting there baffled and bewildered.

  THE MOMENT THE elevator opened, Naomi rushed up to Kennedy. “Have I got Holiday News for you,” she said, using the term they adopted for tantalizing information.

  “What? What?” Kennedy asked, anxious to hear what Naomi had to say. Kennedy fumbled with the key, until she unlocked the door. “Tell me what’s so important!” she said, once inside the apartment.

  Naomi shoved a piece of paper in Kennedy’s face without saying a word.

  Kennedy took the note out of her hand and read it:

  ONE MORE TRANSACTION,

  THEN OUR BUSINESS WILL BE COMPLETE.

  THANKS FOR HOLDING UP YOUR END OF THE DEAL,

  R. S.

  “Where’d you get this?” Kennedy waved the paper in front of Naomi’s face. “It’s a copy of the same note I found with the check that fell out of Nigel’s briefcase,” she said, shocked.

  “Yeah, I know.”

  Kennedy shook her head. “What do you mean, you know?” She still didn’t have a clue what Naomi was trying to say. “You said you had Holiday News.” Kennedy handed the note back to her. “Well, I’m waiting.”

  “Don’t you get it?” Naomi asked as if the obvious was staring Kennedy right in the face, threatening to smack her upside the head. “R. S.?” she asked, as if the initials held the hidden secret.

  “I know, R. S., Rob Sherr, Nigel’s former boss, so what?” Kennedy asked, totally irritated. “Naomi, pulezzze,” she said, emphasizing the word please, “tell me something that I don’t already know.”

  “R. S., as in Rio Stanis, not Rob Sherr.”

  Kennedy stood in the middle of the living room with a blank look. “Who the hell is Rio Stanis?”

  “The curator at the Museum of Urban Art.”

  “Oh, yeah, I remember, your boss. But what does he have to do with this?” Kennedy asked, before Naomi could finish her sentence.

  Naomi walked over to the sofa and sat down. “Are you ready for this?”

  “I’ve been ready since we walked into the apartment. Now please tell me what’s going on,” Kennedy said, joining her on the couch.

  “I was at MUA earlier today doing my bimonthly volunteer gig and Rio asked me to schedule a pickup from a private collector. And guess who that collector happened to be?” she asked, continuing with the twenty questions.

  “Naomi, enough with the riddles and guessing games; just tell me straight, no chaser.”

  “Okay, okay.” She scooted toward Kennedy. “I was going through the paperwork and guess whose name magically appeared in front of me?”

  When Kennedy pinned Naomi with a no-nonsense-don’t-toy-with-me stare, she continued without waiting for an answer. “Nigel.” She jumped off the sofa. “Girl, he’s selling his artwork to the museum. That’s what the note was all about. Rio wrote it when Nigel sold him the first Jacob Lawrence piece, and you found it, thinking that he was selling information to Rob Sherr, his old boss. Now do you get it?”

  Kennedy let Naomi’s words sink in and marinate before answering, and thought back to the magnificent artwork hanging in Nigel’s apartment. “You mean to tell me, he’s selling his paintings and that’s why he had a check for a quarter of a million dollars?”

  “Yep.” She nodded. “And get this, he’s going to receive another check for the same amount for the second painting.”

  Kennedy slumped back on the sofa feeling like a complete idiot. She thought that Nigel was selling proprietary information, and all along he was selling his artwork. Having trust issues with so many men over the years had Kennedy paranoid to the point that she was ready to accuse Nigel, who’d been nothing b
ut honest, of a felony. “Oh,” was all she could manage to say.

  Naomi looked at Kennedy. “Are you feeling okay?”

  “I’m fine. It’s just hard to believe, that’s all.”

  “But you believed the espionage theory. I don’t get it.”

  Kennedy held her head down in shame. “Girl, it’s all the losers I’ve dated before Nigel that’s got me so paranoid. I should’ve known that he wouldn’t do anything as dubious as selling trade secrets to FACEZ’s competitor.” She thought for a minute. “Now the question is, why is he selling those paintings? But more importantly, why wouldn’t he tell me?”

  “You’re asking the wrong person, because I don’t have a clue. You need to ask Nigel that.”

  Naomi was right, and as soon as he resurfaced, Kennedy would be armed and loaded with a barrelful of questions.

  37

  “SO WHERE’S your sidekick?” Naomi asked Tyler as she walked into the kitchen. She hadn’t seen much of Tyler since she’d been spending the majority of her time at Mira’s.

  “Ha, ha. Mira had a meeting, but she’ll be here soon. And by the way, I’ll be moving into Mira’s place after our book club meeting today. She officially asked me to move in the other day,” Tyler said, with a huge grin on her face.

  “I’m not surprised. You practically live there anyway.” Naomi’s attitude toward Tyler had totally changed. After living with her sister-in-law over the past few months, she came to realize that Tyler was no different from any other woman, except for her sexual preference. And just because she liked women didn’t make her a monster. Naomi had imposed her prejudgments on Tyler before she really got a chance to know her, and even though they didn’t hang out on a regular basis, Tyler was a decent human being. At the end of the day, that was all that really mattered.

  “Well, I am. It happened so fast, but I really like Mira. She’s a bit of a control freak, but I don’t mind. I’m basically a homebody anyway, and when she’s at work, I can get my assignments done. I love being in a relationship, so this situation works for me. Besides, you and Jacob need this house to yourselves.”