Another Time, Another Place

by Zane

  “Not this time. What matters is that you’re set, right?”

  “Right. I’ll let you get away with it this time, Bishop Thomas. But sooner or later, you’re gonna tell me.”

  “Okay, if you say so. I have a meeting at three so I have to go for now. I’ll see you at the car at five, right?”

  “Yeah. How else would I get home?”

  “True. See you then.”

  “Ciao, Bishop.”

  The rest of my day creeps by probably because I want five o’clock to hurry up and arrive. I review purchase contracts, one after another.

  Finally, at five p.m., I exit the building, enter the lower-level parking garage, and head toward Bishop’s car. Behind me, I hear the scrawny man and Bishop.

  “B, there’s that pretty young thang again. Is she riding with us again?”

  “Yes, George, Connie is riding with us again, so act like you have sense and manners.”

  “Okay, already. But she sure is a beautiful African Queen. Just look at those legs.”

  “George—”

  “Okay, B, damn. I’ll be on my best behavior.”

  I arrive at the car first, turn and watch them approach. Bishop gives me a warm and loving smile. Snaggle-toothed George can keep the jacked-up smile he offers. I roll my eyes at him to let him know I ain’t having any of his shit on the way home. Bishop, being the charmer that he is, instantly smoothes the waters between the snaggle-toothed Oompa Loompa and me.

  “Connie and George, how about we stop at the ice cream shop just outside the mall? I could go for some frozen yogurt.”

  “B, I don’t know. Ice cream doesn’t cost what it used to.”

  “Damn, are you that stingy with your money?”

  “Hey, pretty thang, don’t mouth off at me. Every penny counts.”

  “Well, who can turn down ice cream on a hot Georgia day? I’m game.”

  “George, it’s my treat,” Bishop offers.

  “Oh, well, why didn’t you say that? Ice cream sounds just fine.”

  No, he didn’t. This cheap prick won’t buy his ice cream. Ironically, he probably has a million dollars stashed somewhere, just saving his money while he spends other people’s hard-earned dime.

  We pull into the parking lot of the ice cream shop, and George acts like a little kid. He’s the first one out of the car and rushes to be next in line. Bishop opens my car door and we walk together. He opens the entrance door for me and taps my ass when I pass him. He still wants to play games. I get my ice cream to go. We return to the car and drop George off at the Lenox Mall Marta station. We head home.

  “Bishop, turn right here.” I point in the direction opposite of where we should go.

  “What’s up? Where do you want to go?”

  “I need to make a quick stop,” I inform. “Now turn here.”

  “Are you taking me to where I think you’re taking me?”

  I smile in a naughty fashion and navigate him to a secluded area in Chastain Park. I come here sometimes just to think. It’s serene and beautiful, full of Mother Nature. But I never stay long and don’t get out of my car. There are weirdos in the world, and I’m not trying to be on the evening news. Nonetheless, I do like it here.

  “Park right over there,” I instruct.

  “Word.”

  Bishop pulls into an empty space and parks the car.

  “What’s up, Connie? Why’d you want to come here?” He looks around and while he admires the scenery, I unbuckle his pants, whip out his flaccid dick and give him a lesson about the birds and the bees, and what they do with ice cream. Before he can say my name, I cover his dick with some of my double-scoop cookiesn-cream.

  “Ohhhh shit! That’s cold!” he bellows. I ignore him and go to work with my deep-throat action I know he loves. I enjoy watching him rise and fall, squirm and churn as I lick and eat away my evening snack. He’s so excited but manages to reach behind my leaning ass and find his way under my skirt. His middle and index fingers penetrate my moist box and we pleasure each other once more. I’m so glad I don’t have on my panties; easy access is best when you’re with your ideal sex partner.

  “Connie, I’m about to cum!”

  “Give it to me, Bishop.”

  He rises and falls, squirms and churns, and grabs the steering wheel. Then just when his dick is about to explode, I cover the tip of his penis with more of my cold ice cream-filled mouth and swallow his cum with my cookies-n-cream. He falls back into his seat.

  “Damn, Connie. You make me weak. Whew!”

  “Just thought I’d give you something to think about tonight.”

  “Like everything else we did today wasn’t enough? You gonna hurt a brother.”

  Strength and stamina, I love it. Bishop holds my hand as he drives me to my dropoff at the Sandy Springs Marta. He pulls up to the curb and a few other late commuters are returning to their cars.

  “Connie, I’ll meet you here seven-thirty a.m. sharp tomorrow, okay?”

  “Okay. See you then.”

  We give a quick peck and go our separate ways. I feel like I’ve been horseback riding all damn day. My pussy is worn out and I’m glad. It’s an excellent accomplishment for our last encounter.

  I look up to see someone staring at me. No, it’s not George, but Quincy Perkins, one of Keith’s boyz.

  “Whatz up, Connie?”

  Oh shit, here we go. “Nothing. How are you, Quincy?”

  “I’m fine. Looks like you doing fine, too.”

  Shit, he knows. I look in the direction of Bishop’s car and can see the taillights at the traffic light before he turns the corner.

  “It’s not what you think, Q. I’m carpooling. That’s all.”

  “Out here? Seems like you’d be at the North Springs station.”

  “Look, Quincy, this is the station that’s most convenient for everyone. It’s that simple.” I hope his dumb ass believes me. What does he know about corporate America, anyway? What I don’t need is for him to alarm Keith. So, I have to go along with this bullshit until he’s satisfied with my answers.

  “So, that brotha works at your job?”

  “Yes, Q. He’s the director of accounting and has been there for a number of years. What’s your point?”

  “My point? My point is, does Keith know you’re carpooling with this brotha?”

  Damn! Now he’s got me. Do I lie or tell the truth? Lie, of course. I’ll make this right with Keith when I get home.

  “Yeah, he knows and is cool with it.” I pray this suffices.

  “Uh-huh, aight. I’ll see you two at my BBQ on Saturday.”

  “Okay. Tell Daphne ‘hi’ for me.” I hope I sound sincere.

  “Yeah, aight.”

  I call Keith the moment Quincy is out of my sight. I know his ass is going to call him regardless of my explanations. I toss my laptop and purse in the SUV and dial Keith.

  “Hello,” he answers. His cool-sounding voice is music to my ears.

  “Hey, sweetie. How are you?”

  “Hey, Connie. Whatz up?”

  “Nothing much. Just calling to say I’ll be home soon.”

  “Yeah, aight. Well, look, I got Q on the other line right now. Let me call you right back.”

  “Okay. I’ll chat with you soon.”

  Shit, shit, shit! I pound the steering wheel and drive like a bat out of hell to fix whatever damage Q causes.

  Quincy is cool and all, but he and his girlfriend, Daphne Raquelle, are nosey as hell. Whenever I’m around them, they get on my nerves cause they always argue like two Chihuahua on steroids. She constantly yaps after him, and he barks at her. I don’t know how they stand each other. They are too much alike. They are both control freaks and power hungry. They each have to be right all the damn time. Maybe that’s the source of their problems. You don’t have to be Oprah or Dr. Phil to figure that shit out. I can only imagine what sex must be like between them—“No, you get on top.” “No, damn it, you get on top.” “Give me some head.” “No. You eat my
pussy.” So sad, but it makes me appreciate the serenity of my relationship with Keith. One thing is for sure, we get along great. No arguments here, except, well, you know, pencil dick, but of course, I can’t tell him that. I just hope Q doesn’t screw up things between Keith and me.

  I arrive home and Keith greets me with a hug and kiss as usual. I watch his behavior and demeanor. He seems the same. Hopefully, Q passed on telling him anything. I walk into the kitchen and he informs me that there’s a Boston Market chicken Caesar salad in the fridge for me. I take it out and sit with him at the kitchen table as he finishes his meatloaf with three sides.

  “So, how was your day, Connie?”

  “Good, how was yours?”

  “I’ve had better. Negotiations didn’t go well with an artist today. But, I have another potential I’m checking out tonight at the Pit. Do you want to come with me? He’s supposed to be real good.”

  “Sure, sweetie. I’ll go with you anywhere.”

  “Is that right?” The look he gives me makes me feel a little uncomfortable, so I excuse myself from the table to get a glass of white Zin and pull my act together. I return to my seat a bit more composed.

  “What time do I need to be ready?”

  “Eight. Show starts at nine. He’s the first emcee.”

  “Okay. Eight, it is.”

  He excuses himself from the table and goes to watch TV. I finish my salad and then join Keith in the family room on our favorite sectional. I like resting with him at the end of my day. I snuggle under his arm with my legs curled to my side. He touches my thigh, and I react oddly, immediately rising to my feet, alarming him.

  “What’s wrong with you?” he asks, looking bewildered.

  “I, uh, I, uh, need to go to the bathroom. I think my cycle just started.”

  “Oh, you act like something major is wrong.”

  Shit! How could I forget I’m not wearing any panties? I’ve gotta be more careful. I race upstairs, strip down to my natural birthday suit and proceed to the shower. Just as I’m about to step into the warm oasis, Keith turns the corner, reaches into the shower and turns off the water.

  “Come here,” he says, taking my hand and leading me to the bedroom. I quickly grab my towel.

  “Sit down.” He points to the California King bed and I sit my towel-wrapped body on the white goose-down comforter and say nothing. I wait to see where this is going.

  “Connie, are we cool?”

  “Yeah. Why?” I make an extremely puzzled expression to pretend he has asked a silly question.

  “Everything is everything, right?”

  “Right. Keith, what’s up? Why are you questioning me?”

  He says nothing for a moment and an awkward pause fills the air.

  “I’m your man, right?”

  Holy mother of Mary, where did that come from? Remain calm and answer the question, I think.

  “Of course, sweetie. Don’t be silly.” His intense, concerned expression is anything but silly.

  He looks right into my eyes and says, “Remember that shit.”

  Then he stands and walks away. I reach for him and purposely let my towel drop. If I’m lucky, I’ll cloud his judgment with the sight of my cocoa, fine ass.

  “Keith, what’s gotten into you? You are my man.” I press my naked body against his chest and wrap my arms around his waist.

  “What’s this I hear about you riding with some nigga from work? Don’t I give you everything you need?”

  “Yes.”

  “Yes, what? Yes, you’re ridin’ with someone or yes, I give you what you need?”

  “Yes, you give me what I need. And yes, I carpooled today, but I only did it once to see what it’s like and to see if it’s beneficial. You know the traffic is horrible and the gas is expensive. We get to and from work twice as fast ’cause we use the HOV lanes. It wasn’t bad.”

  “Who the fuck is ‘we’?”

  “The driver and another rider.”

  “Male or female?”

  “Both male.”

  “Ahhh, hell no, Connie. You leave that carpooling shit alone. I don’t want you riding with two mothafuckas I don’t know. You’ve only been at the job six months. You don’t know these people. Why would you do that?”

  “Keith, the driver is a respectable, senior manager at the company, and the other man is a total geek. They’re harmless.”

  “Half the crazy mothafuckas in the world are geeks. Next thing I’ll know, you’ll be on the six o’clock news missing persons report.”

  “Ahhh, sweetie, you’re just concerned.” I rub his back to soothe him. “Thanks for caring so much about me, but I promise you that I’m fine, really.”

  He looks at me with his intense brown eyes. “I just don’t want anything to happen to you. You don’t need these men to help you with anything; that’s what I’m here for. We can afford the gas, the ride, everything.”

  “Okay, Keith. I don’t want to argue. If you don’t want me to carpool, then I won’t. I’ll send an email from my Blackberry and inform the driver I won’t be there tomorrow.

  “Word. Who’s your man?”

  “You are, sweetie.”

  “That’s right. Remember that shit.” He seals his boastful statement with a peck.

  “I do remember, Keith, every day. You don’t need to worry.” I hug and kiss him lightly about his face and neck, reassuring him everything is fine.

  “Aight. Let’s get going before we miss seeing this new artist. I hear he’s the shi-zite.”

  He grabs a handful of my ass, then quickly pats it as he walks away. I stand there thinking, that damn Q; he needs to mind his own business, for real.

  ***

  I fumble to turn off the annoying, chirping sound of my Friday six a.m. alarm, and linger beneath the Egyptian cotton sheets, snug as a bug. I’m exhausted from my exhilarating encounter with Bishop yesterday and hanging out with Keith at the Pit last night. We should have left the hip-hop club no later than midnight in order to get a decent night’s sleep before having to go to work this morning. But Keith is always quick to remind me that the crowd doesn’t get good until after eleven o’clock. Plus, he likes to see how the mass of patrons responds to an artist. It’s one way he determines whether or not an artist has crowd appeal. Luckily, his potential client is a crowd-pleaser.

  As I recollect about last night, I gotta admit, Phoenix, as people call him, brought the house down. Thursday nights will never be the same at the Pit when he’s on the mike. His rap style sort of reminds me of Mos Def, who happens to be one of my favorite rap artists. Although Phoenix is not quite as polished as Mos, he certainly is an up-and-coming talent. Keith is still bouncing off the walls from Phoenix agreeing to work for him.

  “IIIIT’S FRRRIDAY! Wake up, Connie, baby. Time to go to work.” Keith pulls the cozy comforter and sheets off my naked body and exposes me to the cool air-conditioned room. My nipples quickly harden and Keith zeroes in on them like a suckling babe to its mother. He lies atop me with his sexy, naked muscular body and cups my 36DDs with both hands, sucks and gnaws at the tips of my breasts. I watch him take a mouthful of each breast, work his way to my pointed nipples, then tug just hard enough to make me moan with pleasure. The tension turns me on, and my breasts swell, as I desire for him to play with them more.

  “I love your Betty Boops, baby. They’re so full and perky, and soft to the touch.”

  “Yeah, I know you do.”

  As he places his face in my cleavage, I vigorously shake my breasts from side to side, smacking his cheeks with each backward-and-forward motion. He laughs and enjoys our playful moment. I’m glad to see that his mind is off our conversation last night about me sluggin’. Speaking of which, I need to meet Bishop at seven-thirty a.m.

  “Sweetie…” I interrupt Keith’s exploration that seems to be headed to my hot zone.

  “Shhhhh. Lay back and relax. Let me give you what I know you like.” He parts my long, slender, brown legs and rubs my clit with two of his fingers
. This is going to be hard, but I gotta stop him.

  “Keith, sweetie…”

  “Shhhh.”

  He licks around my labia and I fight the urge to let him have me for breakfast. I push back on my elbows toward the headboard and force him to lose his position over my moist box.

  “Keith, I can’t this morning. I have to be at work early and don’t have time to serve you my biscuit. I’m sorry.”

  As I leave the bed, a disappointing look consumes his face, even though he tells me that he understands. I feel strange, not because I’ll miss out on his good, pussy-eatin’ skills, but because today I need to tell Bishop no more carpooling and no more hot, crazy sex.

  I stare at my reflection in the bathroom mirror, thinking I must be nuts to let go of Bishop’s big, ten-inch, pussy-satisfying penis for Keith’s small rod. How in the hell am I going to do this? Just thinking about Bishop and the fire we create is getting me excited. Shit, to tell the truth, I can’t wait to see him. I’ll wear something extra special today so that when I tell him my news, he’ll crave me, but can’t have me. I’m gonna drive his ass crazy with my control and power over our lustful affair. Yeah, I know, some would say this is teasing, but do I care? Hell no. If I gotta let him go, then I’m gonna do so in a fashion that will leave him desiring me. This way, if ever I have an itch, I know he’ll be willing to scratch it.

  Thirty minutes later, I kiss Keith good-bye and I’m ready to walk out of the house with just one thing on my mind—Bishop Thomas.

  I arrive at Perimeter, waiting for the silver metallic 500 Mercedes to pull up. I know wearing these four-inch heel sandals with my mid-thigh, wrap-around dress is going to make him drool. I love how the material feels against my skin, especially since the only undergarment I have on is my bra for perfect cleavage. I have a thong in my purse for wearing after I complete my mission this morning.

  At seven-thirty a.m., an immaculate 2005 Black Escalade slowly rolls up to the curb. The SUV is outfitted with a serious chrome grill, sparkling spinner rims, and dark-tinted windows, looking like it has been spit-shined from the rooter to the tooter. I commit the license plate, “THA BLKNT,” to memory in case the person inside is up to no good. But I gotta admit, “The Black Night” does suit this armored vehicle. I stand on guard as the right passenger window lowers. I hear, “Mornin’, precious,” and am relieved to discover the driver of the Black Night is Bishop. I open the door and slide in, admiring the interior of the pimped-out ride. This is far more impressive than the Mercedes.