by Weber, Carl
“No son of mine is going to be gay and that’s final!” He stood up and motioned to the waiter. “Check!” he demanded from the confused server.
“Sir, your steak is being plated.”
“I’ve lost my appetite.” He shot a look across the table at me but I was too pissed and fortified with alcohol to back down from my father’s wrath. “I’ll have it wrapped to go.” The waiter hurried away.
“This is 2010, Dad. It’s okay to be gay!” I tried to reason with him.
“Not to me it isn’t,” my father snarled. He motioned to my mother to handle the check and bolted out the restaurant in a hurry.
“Baby, give him some time. Your father is from a different era.” My mother tried to soothe my hurt feelings.
“Well, he better start living in this era. I am not going to pretend anymore because he’s afraid of what his homophobic friends are going to think.”
She stared at me. She really was one of the best mothers in the world but her Achilles heel had always been my father. We both knew that it would be a cold day in hell before he embraced my homosexuality. I decided right then and there it would have to be his problem. I had a life to live and, dammit, I was going to do just that.
Paris
4
“Señorita Wimberly?” the sophisticated and tanned man behind the counter asked as I checked in at the Hoteles Santos Las Arenas Balneario Resort. I didn’t know if I was just paranoid but he sounded like even he didn’t believe it was my last name. This incognito shit was messing with me, I didn’t do low profile well. You know I came out my moms’ va-jay-jay high profile.
I surveyed the lobby, which reminded me of a Roman palace with its many white marble columns.
“Si,” I replied with a wink, wishing I knew more than my New York Spanglish from home. Or at least learned more from Roberto, the head of security at my school. But I was too busy giving him a mouthful of these titties in exchange for allowing me to occasionally sneak out to score some weed. After Orlando dumped his floozy and agreed to take me shopping in the city for which I was named, it was a short flight with my new wardrobe on Air Europa from Charles de Gaulle into Valencia’s Manises Airport. Just like Orlando’s sorry ass to send me here on a commercial airline when nearby Majorca or Ibiza were more my kind of fun. But at least I had new clothes and was in a beautiful hotel on the coast. Besides, if I didn’t find anything to get into here I could arrange the jaunt out to those islands in the Balearic Sea on my own.
But for now I was gonna be a good girl and stay low-key. For Daddy.
The bellman rolled my luggage onto the elevator for the trip up to my fourth-floor suite. Before the door fully closed, two others squeezed in. A tall, sexy motherfucker with high cheekbones, black wavy hair, and cream-colored skin was the main course. I couldn’t tell if he was a local or something more exotic. Whatever the case, he carried on effortlessly in Spanish with some slutty, underdressed bitch. A lot of boobs and not much ass. She hung on his every word. I tried ignoring the good time they were having by admiring the tile beneath my feet. Oh, and my new shoes, too; Lanvin.
Still, I couldn’t help myself and he caught me looking his way side-eye. Before I could turn away and play it off, he smiled at me.
Not wanting to give him the satisfaction, I rolled my eyes from behind my sunglasses. “Señor, your floor?” my bellman asked as we were already heading up.
“Sí. Quatro,” he agreed when he saw the button was already pushed.
Shit. We were on the same floor.
Here he was acting like his company was the greatest thing on Earth or sumthin’. Hoped they kept all that chattering down when they made it to their room.
“Hello. Are you American?” he asked me in perfect English. Not the shit I used, but the shit from like fuckin’ England or sumthin’.
“Sí. I mean . . . yes,” I replied as I fumbled along
“First time?”
“Excuse you?”
“First time to Valencia?” he asked for further clarification, making me feel more foolish.
“Yeah,” I said, not giving much energy. “Somewhere new after Cannes, Monaco, and Zurich all the time,” I was trying to floss with someone obviously more worldly than me. But a bitch wasn’t a stranger to caviar, yachts, ‘n’ shit either.
The doors opened on our floor. Allowing his lady to exit first, he held the doors for the bellman and me.
“Oh. I see. Those are quite some nice locales,” he said as I came oh-so-close before exiting the elevator. “Well, maybe I’ll see you around then. The beaches here are wonderful.”
“Yeah. I see,” I commented with a backward glance. Damn. Had big feet, too. “Excuse me, señorita,” I purred as I walked right between the two of them. My bellman was more polite than me, rolling my luggage around them instead. Whatever shit she talked about me in Spanish, I couldn’t care less.
As the door to my suite was opened for me, the smooth talker was entering his suite on the opposite end of the hallway. He caught me looking again and gave me a slight nod and a mischievous grin. It seemed cocky but I couldn’t tell if it was the kind of cocky that I liked. This time, I just lowered my sunglasses for a second then put them back in place.
I was inside my room, the Mare Nostrum Suite, which, the bellman informed me, was Latin for “Our Sea” the name the Romans used for the Mediterranean, of which I had a perfect view right out my window. Seeing the style of the suite fit me, I silently thanked Orlando then slipped the bellman a fifty euro note.
“Will anyone else be joining you during your stay?” he asked, displaying his English. Like most of the staff, he still had his Spanish accent, but I could understand him perfectly.
“I haven’t decided yet,” I replied as I walked around, surveying the suite, including the terrace. “So . . . what is there for a girl to do around here?”
“Our amenities are the best. There is complimentary pampering for a lovely lady such as you, as well as our fine beaches,” he recited from memory. “You will also enjoy the festival season in Valencia itself. Lots of history and culture all around us. And if you like the gambling, there is a casino about thirty kilometers away.”
“Oh,” I said, curious. “Are there some dangerous places around here? Where a lovely lady such as me could get in trouble?”
“Yes,” he answered, his voice lowering as if scared to say so. As he began to tell me the list of those places, I began noting which might be of interest to me.
Pampering was good too, but a bitch might wanna get things poppin’.
Niles
5
“Hurry up, Niles,” the woman whined in Spanish. I was deliberately taking my time with the key card as I wanted to get another look at the sister from the elevator, the sexy American. Caught her looking at me as I glanced over my shoulder, but only had time to throw a quick, awkward nod her way. After all, I couldn’t risk losing the bird in the hand for the one in the bush. As my room door opened, the American sister responded with a smooth dip of her designer sunglasses followed by a dismissive shake of her head. Guess she wasn’t feeling me although I found it rather hard to believe. Maybe I was just spoiled by European women Especially these at the business conference I was attending. Angelica slipped her arms around my waist, resting her head on my back as if asserting she was worthy of my undivided attention.
“Señorita,” I said as I politely held open the door to my suite.
“Do you have something to drink?”
Turning on some soft music with the remote, I led Angelica to my bar, where I told her to help herself to whatever she fancied. Normally, I would’ve been a gentleman and helped Angelica with her drink but I’d been away from my room all day and had to tend to some business. I went out on the balcony and checked my messages
I was about to go back inside, but for a bit of movement out the corner of my eye. My friend from the elevator was on her balcony at the same time. I delayed for a bit, observing her as she checked out her accommodatio
ns while bickering with someone on her mobile. No doubt she was arguing with some boyfriend from back in the States. Call me intrigued, for I was. I hovered there, held in her thrall as I imagined her turning around any second and seeing me again. But then what? I was sure I could come up with something better than a nod this time. Maybe flex my muscles. Yeah. That’s it. Acting like a horny schoolboy would be sure to dazzle someone such as her.
“Niiiiiiles!” came from inside my suite. Angelica summoning me back.
The American sister never turned my way. A quick change of direction and she was back out of view. Remembering my card was already full, I put aside foolish thoughts and followed the call of my name.
Angelica lay atop my bed. Whatever she’d poured herself was gone. Just a glass of ice remained on the nightstand. She was on her back with her bikini removed and legs spread wide, letting me see that the carpet did in fact match the drapes. She was a true redhead.
“You have a nice room,” she commented as she pointed her toe at me then twirled it around as if it were a magic wand. God bless her. Strong and flexible legs were a good thing in life.
“One of the nicest in the hotel,” I replied, stepping forward as I grasped her outstretched foot and kissed her ankle, holding it against my cheek. There was another suite on this floor equally as nice, but on the opposite end of the hallway.
“Your cock. Show it to me, por favor,” she begged as her hazel eyes flared devilishly.
I obliged her and pulled my trunks down, allowing them to fall around my ankles. I wasn’t fully out of them before Angelica slid closer to the bed’s edge. She sat there, taking me in her soft hands while marveling at it.
“Bueno,” she muttered softly with a smile just before she took me in her mouth. As her lips encircled my head, her demeanor turned less passive. She sucked wildly, her warm breath making my body tingle from head to toe as she convinced me there was nothing she’d rather be doing. I grasped the back of her head and held steady as she slobbered with wicked determination. When she stopped to catch her breath, I pushed her onto her back, startling her.
I grinned, ready for the main course as I snagged a condom from off the nightstand. I ripped the foil off the Magnum and quickly unfurled it onto my shaft.
“Esto es lo que desea? Is this what you want?” I asked with a low growl as I took her ankles in each hand and held her legs up to the sky. Angelica emphatically nodded as I entered her, her lovely gasps of pleasure escaping the deeper I slid. Finding our rhythm, I pressed her legs together and bent my knees slightly to hit her spot just right. Her ass quivered each time our bodies pressed together. Steadying herself, she rode up and down on my dick, going reverse-cowgirl and whipping her mane of long red hair about like some madwoman.
“Sí! Sí! Sí!” she cried as I pumped faster and more intensely, holding her legs ever tighter as I worked in and out. Sweet carnal music was played by our bodies, our instruments coming together to deliver the notes of passion. I gave Angelica my all, not a care for who heard us as I did my best to bring her ecstasy again and again.
Later, while my guest snored blissfully in my bed, I got up.
I was restless and my mind was somewhere else. I returned to my balcony a final time on the off chance that I might see her again.
Nadja
6
Just as I was about to step through the door for my meeting my phone buzzed. I knew Navid, my first assistant, was calling to give me an update on my pet project.
“Talk quickly,” I pressed him, not wanting to be late.
“Lots of activity in Valencia,” he said.
“More than normal?”
“Average. Nothing’s sticking,” he said in a cheerful voice.
“Good. Let me know if anything changes.”
“Will do.”
“And, Navid?”
“Yes?”
“Thanks. You’re the only person I can trust with this.” I sighed. From an early age I’d been taught not to trust people, especially when it came to work. I felt grateful that I had someone that had my back even if I paid handsomely for it.
After I got off the phone, I entered the dimly lit bar, noting all the stares and obvious signs of interest. With the exception of a scantily clad waitress every other customer was male. I spotted my party across the room and made my way over. A short, squat guy in an expensive suit turned from the bar and stepped in my path halfway to my destination.
“Beautiful girl, come and let me sit on your face.” He waved a wad of currency in my face, hoping to entice me.
“Step out of my way,” I snapped at this idiot. There wasn’t enough cash in the world to force me to spend one moment alone with him.
“A golden shower will surely correct your bad attitude,” he snapped, peeling off the American equivalent of several hundred dollar bills.
“Are you kidding?” I quipped as he attempted to shove the bills into my cleavage. I rewarded him with a swift uppercut to the jaw, sending him reeling backward.
“Oww, you fucking bitch!” he hollered in pain and shock as he came toward me.
“You’re lucky that’s all I did.” I took another step toward my table when he grabbed me by the elbow. I shook my arm away from him.
“Don’t you ever fucking put one slimy hand on me again or you will regret it.”
“Do you know who the fuck I am?” he snarled, getting up in my face.
“Sure. I know who you are. You’re Rasoul Habib, owner of the third-largest oil tanker in Saudi Arabia. You are married to Leila. And you have two mistresses, Yasmin and Zahra. If you continue fucking with me I will make sure they’re all dead by sunrise.” I stared him down until he went speechless. Then I stomped over to finally join my party, who had been watching the entire exchange with a slightly amused grin on his face. Rasoul moved past me and addressed the man I was meeting. It was clear that they knew each other.
“You gonna allow her to speak to me in such a disrespectful manner? To threaten me?” he questioned my party, who just shrugged his shoulders as if to say, “it’s not my problem.”
“She needs to be dealt with. No woman in this country talks to a man like that and lives.” Rasoul glared at me, waiting for the wrath to befall me.
“She is not just a woman. She is my daughter, and unless you want those women murdered I suggest you step away from her.” My father stared him down until he scooted back to the bar.
I slid into the booth, kissing him on each cheek. “Papa. It’s ready. I need you to talk to him.” I picked up my phone and dialed a familiar number.
“I’m sending you an e-mail. We want this taken care of by the end of business today.” I hung up the phone and turned to my father. “Done!”
“Sometimes you are better than a son, Nadja, but you are not a man. You need protection in case anything ever happens to me. You must find a husband.”
“I will not be defined by my marital status,” I reminded him for the millionth time.
“That Western education I paid for has made you an independent woman but this is still the Middle East. We are far behind Westerners when it comes to women.”
“You raised me this way!”
“I know. But it is not good. I’ve arranged for you to go home to your mother.”
“No! Please!” I begged him.
“Do it for me. For your own protection you must find a suitor.”
We stared at each other, my stubbornness inherited from him.
“Your mother needs you home on Friday. Some very nice young men are coming to meet you. This time your engagement must end in a marriage.” I knew that he was only trying to protect me, but when it came to my relationships it was my turn to protect him. I couldn’t tell him that the only man I would ever consent to marry would never be mine.
Paris
7
“All settled in?” My brother Rio phoned as I finished hanging the last of my clothes in the closet. His call was welcome, but he had to know I was pissed the fuck off at being
banished. It was like my family was playing with me, but I knew Rio would come clean. He was my twin after all.
“Yeah,” I replied with a long sigh. “You in on this too with Orlando? Messin’ up my plans ’n’ shit?”
“You ain’t had no plans other than fuckin’ and gettin’ fucked up, beeyotch,” Rio teased.
“True,” I admitted with a devilish cackle, “but I still miss y’all.”
“I miss you too,” he said, seeming genuine. “I coulda used somebody around here.”
“Then why don’t you come out here, bro?” I shrieked. “You and I can blow up these clubs. And I know the music’s right up your alley. All that electronic party shit.”
“I’d love to be among those sweaty, hard bodies and pounding beats with you, sis. But . . .”
“But what?” I pushed, confused by his hesitation. Knowing Rio’s tastes, he would have more than his share of men to choose from around here.
“I gotta stay around here. In case something pops off,” he weakly offered.
“Boy, you know you ain’t the one for that kind of drama. That’s what Daddy got me for,” I joked, semi-serious. “Is Daddy tryin’ to shield me or somethin’? ’Cause I’m more than ready to—”
“You know they didn’t let me in on shit,” Rio blurted out, cutting me off. “All I know is that you need to stay yo’ ass in Europe.”
“Now you’re sounding like Orlando.”
“Pshh. Never,” he scoffed. “This is what LC wants. And I ain’t buckin’ our father’s wishes.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I sassed. “I’ll go along with the program . . . for now. But if y’all niggas need me, I’ll be on the first G5 out there to wreck shit. In my best pair of heels, too.”
“And we know, Paris. That’s why we love you.”
“No, you love me because you ain’t got a choice,” I joked.
A knock at the door led me to end the conversation with Rio. Part of me hoped it was the fine, smooth English bloke from the elevator. Maybe realizing that he needed an upgrade from his old baggage to a fine piece of American ass such as moi.
