Dirty Old Men [And Other Stories] (Zane Presents)

by Omar Tyree

  She was even dropping the heavy-handed “friend” word on him, which was the kiss of death for any eager man with a crush on a woman. But it was no use. The old, sly boss, with his magazine, money and bullying attitude, had an obvious vise-lock grip on the damn girl. And Jason was finally fed up enough to say something to her about it. Her relationship with “Arnie” had not ended like he had expected it to months ago. So he let her have it. She had asked him for it.

  “I mean, how long do you expect to sleep with him? Don’t you think about having someone your own age? Wake up and smell the Starbucks. He has a wife and four grown kids! And you have no future with that man. I’m just being real here!”

  At first, Gabrielle seemed shocked. She was speechless. But then she smiled, and her smile turned into a chuckle. Then her chuckle turned into a full laugh inside of Jason’s studio. The photographer couldn’t understand it.

  “What the hell is so funny about that?” he asked.

  “Well, for a minute there, it almost seemed like you were jealous.”

  The idea seemed alien to her, as if she had no clue that Jason may have desired her.

  He looked at her perplexed. “As a matter of fact, I am jealous,” he admitted. “I have to look at your pictures nearly every day now. And frankly, it’s killing me, especially with how you seem to act so open to me all of the time. Just act like a normal fucking model, if you don’t like me. You don’t have to bullshit me with the niceties. That’s only making things worse. So let’s just keep it professional, if you wanna keep going off and fucking that man.”

  Gabrielle covered her face with both hands as if she were embarrassed by his outburst.

  “Oh my God! Jason, I had no idea. Honestly!”

  Jason calmed down a bit. Maybe he had overeacted. However, he had been waiting a long time for something to start off between them. And it never did.

  “Yeah, I just needed to get my feelings out in the open. I’m sorry for going off on you like that.”

  Gabrielle nodded and reached out to hold his hands. She seemed totally understanding of him now. “Well, have you ever told him?”

  Jason frowned. “Of course not. Why would I tell him that? You two have had something going for a while now. I figured it would fade away after awhile. I mean, it’s all based on superficiality. It’s only skin deep.”

  Gabrielle nodded, while still holding on to his hands.

  “So, you figure that what you have for him is much deeper?”

  Jason paused. “What?” He wasn’t able to follow her logic. Maybe she had mixed up her words.

  “You feel that you have something deeper for Arnold than just the skin, I mean.”

  Jason asked her, “What the hell are you talking about? I don’t give a fuck about Arnold like that. I’m talking about you. This is just a job for me. And by now, this magazine is holding both of us back. You should be on your way to New York now, where the real modeling jobs are. Both of us. But you’re letting this man play you cheaply.”

  Gabrielle thought about everything and broke away for a minute. She cleared her head. “Wait a minute. So you’re not gay?”

  “WHAT? What the hell would give you that impression? I seem gay to you? Is that why you haven’t responded to me for this long?”

  “Well, Arnold told me that you were gay.”

  Jason couldn’t believe it. “Arnold’s full of shit! And you fucking believed that? Why, because I’m not strutting around like some kind of alpha male with my chest all out, ala King Kong? Why, because I choose to respect the women I work with? It’s my job to do that. I have to be professional when I shoot. But that doesn’t make me fucking gay. I have respect for my trade and discipline as a man! Something that asshole ‘Arnie’ never had.

  “But he fucking told you that I was gay?” he repeated. “No wonder you were so confused. You don’t know the difference between a straight and a gay man? Do I have any gay tendencies?”

  “Well, he told me that a lot of men in the fashion industry are gay.”

  “And did he tell you that I broke off with my girlfriend in New York, right before I moved out here to Detroit? We were engaged to be married before I found out that she had cheated on me. So I broke the whole thing off and left. Did he tell you anything about that? He knows about it.”

  When Gabrielle failed to answer him, Jason shook his head at the whole fiasco. He shouted, “That MOTHERFUCKER! Fuck him! So this whole time he had you thinking that I was gay. That’s unbelievable. But now you see exactly how devious that man is to get what he wants.”

  Gabrielle was speechless. She didn’t know which way was up. She felt like running off to hide her shame.

  “So, what are you gonna do now?”

  “What do you expect me to do? I’ma tell him about himself. And fuck his magazine job, too! He can shove it up his ass, since he likes the gay talk. But I take that back, as being insensitive to gays. Because they don’t appreciate assholes like him either.”

  Gabrielle thought about it and panicked. “Well, I don’t want you to tell him that I told you that. I mean, let me figure out what to do. I can talk him into telling me the truth.”

  “And then what?”

  “And then he’ll be busted.”

  Jason shook it off. “Naw, that’s not good enough. Something extra needs to happen to his ass. That man is just foul.”

  Gabrielle panicked again. Arnold Whittingham Jr. was still her meal ticket. She knew nothing about modeling in New York. She was still an amateur.

  “Well, you’re not gonna do anything to him, are you? I still have an event to go to with him tonight. So let me ask him about everything first. Okay? Let me handle it. Please,” the young model begged him. She didn’t know what else to do. She had to figure out how to hold things together between her photographer and her boss.

  Jason calmed down again and agreed to it. He could see the dilemma Gabrielle was in. He needed more time to think about everything himself.

  “All right. You go out with him again tonight, and you try and figure out why he told you that. But I know why he told you. He wanted to keep you away from me, and manipulate you at the same time. That’s just what old men try to do to young women. They’re conniving!”

  Once Gabrielle left him alone with his thoughts at his studio, Jason figured there was no way possible for him to continue working for such an unscrupulous man.

  “That’s terrible to do that to both of us. I hope Gabby is smart enough to leave him alone now.”

  But if not, then I don’t know what else to tell her, he mused. Then he heard a buzz at the studio’s front door. He walked over to answer it, hoping to see that Gabrielle had returned to him, but she had not.

  Jason looked through the peephole and spotted Jazmine Whitingham, Arnold’s still fabulous wife of six years. She had a short, dynamic haircut that made her look all business, like the presidential class.

  Uh-oh, the photographer warned himself. Get ready for more drama.

  As soon as he opened his studio door to greet her, Jazmine demanded, “Where is he? He said he was working late to pick out photos for next month’s magazine issue.”

  Jason smiled at the idea. He had had enough of covering for his boss. And it was the wrong damn night for it to happen.

  “Ah, if you wanna believe that, I can probably tell you twenty other lies,” he commented, while grinning.

  Mrs. Whittingham walked in wearing a short, rabbit fur coat before the break of spring. “Well, I’m not here for any more lies; I’m here to find out the truth.” She looked into his grinning face and added, “And what’s so damn funny? I’d really like to know.”

  “I think everyone would like to know the truth from ‘Arnie,’ or as much as you can get from him,” Jason responded.

  “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “It means exactly how it sounds. The man doesn’t tell you the truth. He’s been telling me about giving me a raise for months now.”

  “So where is he right now
?”

  Jason shrugged. “He didn’t tell me.”

  Jazmine looked him over and considered him. She had no idea about Arnold’s claim of Jason being gay. Mrs. Whittingham knew more of his real story. He was the consummate professional, and many of the models liked him for it.

  “So, you have no idea when he’ll be coming back?” she asked him.

  Jason smirked. “Coming back where? He’s never even been here today.”

  “So, he’s out with what’s-her-name?”

  Jason paused. “Who’s what’s-her-name?”

  Jazmine eyed him as if he should know better. “You know damn well who I’m talking about. Gabrielle Kasey,” she confirmed. “I know his type. She’s been all over the magazine these past several months.”

  So far, so good; Mrs. Whittingham was on point. Jason nodded to her.

  “Have you asked him about her?”

  “Of course I have. And he tells me the same damn thing: ‘Don’t be ridiculous, she’s only a model.’”

  Jason looked her over and wondered if she had ever been a model herself years ago. She was still hot as a grown and married woman. Hell, she was only thirty-three, and Arnold’s third wife.

  Rich men can buy all the finest women, he presumed.

  He nodded to her and smiled again. But Jazmine considered him seriously.

  “So, he’s not coming back here then?” she repeated.

  Jason paused, attempting to read where she was going with it.

  “Ahh, you’re not planning on waiting around here for him, are you? As you know already, the man likes to keep late nights.”

  “Good. Then maybe I should keep a late hour of my own for a change. What do you have to do tonight?” she asked.

  Jason hesitated. He didn’t have anything particular on his plate.

  He shook his head. “Nothing. Tonight is one of my few rest nights.”

  Mrs. Whittingham began to take off her fur coat, revealing a physique that remained shapely in her off-white, cotton dress. The dress stopped at her sexy thighs.

  Jason took it all in and thought, Shit! The man’s been leaving her unattended at home. It looked as if the boss liked his cake and his pudding.

  “So are you safe?” she asked him.

  “Safe?”

  “Yeah, are you clean from sexually transmitted diseases? I don’t know what people have out here these days.”

  Jason considered it a peculiar question. Why was she asking him that?

  “Yeah, I’m safe. I would be more concerned about your husband in that department than me.”

  She looked at his crotch. “Let me see it then.”

  “Excuse me.”

  “Let me see it. You said you’re safe from diseases, right?”

  Jason chuckled at her extreme forwardness.

  “You just want me to drop my pants, like that, to prove that I’m clean.”

  “Well, if you are, then you should have no problem with it. You want me to show you mine?”

  Jason was tempted to say yes, out of curiosity. Jazmine read his eyes, pulled her sheer stockings down with no panties, and kicked off her heels. Then she pulled up her dress to show him her goods.

  Jason viewed her well-groomed pussy and tight abs and was stuck in his stance. Instead of looking away, he stared at it, dumbfounded. He eyed her private parts in amazement; he could feel himself getting excited.

  “Okay, so let me see yours,” she challenged him.

  Jason remained stunned. Then he snapped himself out of his daze. “Oh, ah…” He didn’t know what to say. It was either put up or shut up. So he pulled at his belt buckle and tugged his jeans and drawers down for his boss’s wife to view his hard dick.

  “Well, look who’s excited,” she teased and giggled. “That’s a good-looking dick, too, without all the extra hair everywhere. I swear, I must’ve choked on a ton of hair from Arnold. But that looks like a clean suck on you. I’m really gonna enjoy this.”

  Jason’s eyes stretched wide while he stood there in frozen apprehension.

  Is she crazy or what? he asked himself. But he had not bothered to pull his pants back up.

  Jazmine took a seat on his sofa and called for him.

  “Don’t just stand there looking stupid with a hard dick. Bring it on over here.”

  The photographer shuffled forward in her direction, with his pants hanging down around his ankles. He felt ridiculous.

  Now this is some wild shit right here, he told himself. But he figured his boss deserved it. When Mrs. Whittingham secured his rock-hard dick in her right hand and kissed it with her soft lips, he had no intention of stopping whatever she planned to do with it unless it hurt him.

  “Aw, yeah, this is perfect,” she told him. Her soft kisses on his penis became small sucks at the head.

  “Oooh,” Jason squealed with his hands forward. He didn’t know what to do with them. Did he push her head further down on him? Did he grab her by the back of her cranium to anchor himself? All he knew was that it felt great, and he wanted more of it.

  He inched forward and elevated on his toes to feel more of her soft lips gliding up and down on his penis. But she stopped his forward lean by pushing him backward.

  She looked up into his pleading eyes and smiled. “I know what you want. And you’re gonna get it, too. All of it. Just be patient. Okay?”

  Jason nodded like a child to his mother, and he couldn’t wait for the boss’s wife to continue sucking on his hard and throbbing dick.

  Jazmine started up again slowly, and she pushed her mouth further down on him until Jason could feel an urgent volcano rising from the back of his toes.

  “Mmm-hmm,” she mumbled as she sucked him. She knew exactly what she was doing and how much the young man was enjoying it.

  Jason began to tighten up and grow tense as he felt the mounting explosion about to release itself.

  Is she gonna stop or what? he pondered, as he inched closer and closer to a climax. It felt much better than masturbation; that was for sure. He only wondered what she intended to do with his powerful skeet once it came.

  Is she gonna catch it in her hands? Or is she gonna have me squirting all around the fucking room?

  He figured they would make a mess of his studio. But there was no way in hell he was planning on stopping her to run to the bathroom for a towel. It was too late for that.

  So he closed his eyes and allowed his cum to squirt free, without caring where it went. And to his sweet surprise, Jazmine tightened her lips around his pulsating penis and moaned, while he released himself into the security of her mouth.

  “Mmmm-hmmm,” she moaned as she steadied his release to her with both of her hands.

  “Oooohhh,” Jason cried out in jubilee. She was actually swallowing his spurting cum.

  SHE’S INCREDIBLE! SHE’S INCREDIBLE! he marveled of her dick-sucking skills.

  When the boss’s wife finally released her mouth from his satisfied explosion, she said, “I told you I know what you want. Didn’t I?”

  Jason nodded and giggled like a girl. He couldn’t help himself.

  Jazmine stood up and spotted his refrigerator in the corner of the large room.

  “You have any Coke or Pepsi in that thing?”

  “Pepsi,” he answered.

  “Perfect. I’ll get you one, too. ’Cause after you drink it, and recuperate for a minute, I want you to hit it from the back.” She made it sound as if they were about to take a basic walk in the park somewhere.

  Jason was still tickled by it all. He grinned. “Okay.”

  You’re the boss, he told himself. Or his wife, he added. That thought made him smile even harder. And when Jazmine bent over the back of his sofa, less than thirty minutes later, he smiled the whole time, while she demanded him to fuck her harder. She was sick and tired of her old man’s bullshit. And so was Jason. So her wish was his command—gladly.

  HOT JAZZ, COOL JAZZ

  SEAN ALSTON

  You know, I usually don’t go out
on these double-date deals. That’s not really my style. I’m more of a solo man who likes to work his own magic at his own pace with a woman. So going to The Revue in D.C.’s renovated U Street corridor with Alonzo and two new women was a little off the radar for me.

  “Come on, S, it’ll be fun, man. Let’s do something different for a change. And I’ll let you choose the place.”

  Everything “different” is fun for L, like all the different women he manages to date on any given weekend. But at least I got to choose where we went.

  We arrived at The Revue a little late, after waiting for Alonzo and these two new women of his to find a parking spot. By the time they found one, it was after nine and the long line traveled down the sidewalk to the corner of Thirteenth Street.

  Immediately, L began to complain about it. “Hey, S, you don’t know nobody up in here, man? I thought this was your regular spot. Let them know who you are?”

  Letting people know who you are was what Alonzo Bradshaw was known for. His marketing company, A.B.C. Promotions, made sure of it. “A.B.C. you at the show,” was his tagline for everything. Although the line was definitely corny, it seemed to work, so he kept right on using it.

  Anyway, I was busy trying to converse with the two young ladies he had invited out for the evening. To L’s credit, both women were on point; a nine and an eight. The only reason the eight had slipped a point was because of her black-and-gold, two-piece dress, which was a little too revealing in the cleavage department. The dress also had a long split right up the middle.

  That was a little too much attention for me. She looked to be broadcasting an open freeway between her legs. So I told myself that I’d let L handle her, while I dealt with her more tactful girlfriend in the peach wraparound. Their names were Catherine and Carol, respectively. And I was going for Carol.

  I told L, “It’s all right, man. We get to stand out here and socialize before we get inside and get drowned out by the music.”

  Catherine said, “Well, I need to get my drink on. And it’s a little chilly out here, too. Do they at least let you go in for the bar?”

  I could understand her being chilly with the shit she had chosen to wear that night. She was letting the draft come through from the top and from the bottom of her two-piece.