Sins & Secrets

by Carolyn Chambers Sanders

  Knowing that I’d take some time off this weekend, I decided to go back to work to prepare for a meeting coming up next Tuesday.

  Friday came quick. I was apprehensive about meeting Fred, and I hoped they didn’t mind that Amber was coming. She had called me earlier crying about Randy again. He had been staying with her for the past two weeks. When she came home from work, she caught him screwing Shaniqua on the living-room floor. I had to invite her, even though I know Toi ain’t gonna like it.

  I can’t say I feel too bad for her though. She knows what he’s about, but keeps on going back. She’s getting exactly what she wants, drama. Yeah, I think she’s dumb as hell right about now, but I just couldn’t leave her hangin’.

  I picked Amber up, and we met Toi at the steakhouse in Palm Beach. Fred was fine as hell. He played for the Expos. He was talkative, but actually had something to say.

  I didn’t sweat him because Amber was with us. He didn’t know either of us, he had the right to be interested in Amber if he wanted.

  After dinner, we went to Club Safari, danced until three in the morning, and then went to Grandma’s for breakfast. By this time, Fred was macking hard. He let it be known that he was interested in me, or should I say he wanted to go to bed with me.

  He asked, “So, what are you doing later?”

  Then he kinda smiled while licking his lips. You know, just like L.L. Cool J does.

  “Going home and getting into my bed.”

  “Why don’t you come with me, I’d like to spend some more time with you.”

  I guess I was supposed to jump for joy when he said that, since he played major league baseball, made twelve million a year and was sexier than a motha.

  I asked in a rhetorical, but confident way, “Why should I go with you? There’s nothing to do this time of night but screw, and I don’t want to do that right now, not in the mood.”

  And I meant that. If we were gonna play games, you better believe we were gonna play by Candice’s rules. Y’all feel me.

  Still exuding confidence, he continued by saying, “Because I want to be with you, and I’m really enjoying your company.”

  Who did he think I was, a broke groupie? I knew what the nigga wanted, and that was the coochie. His confidence soon grew to cockiness, and this began to piss me off.

  “Well, car note ain’t due. House is paid for. Already paid my bills for the month. Ain’t no malls open, so why would I want to go with you, unless you want to taste this sweet candy.”

  He looked at me in disbelief.

  “Cool, if you sucking?”

  “Uh, sorry sweetie. These lips ain’t made for that.”

  “Well, what do I get out this deal?”

  “Let’s see . . . if you eat it and eat it good, I just might let you get inside me. But, it won’t be tonight. I’m not going to play games with you because even if you taste it you still ain’t getting it tonight.”

  He stared at me for a minute, trying to decide what to say. “You so damn sexy, I’ll eat it. Yeah, I’ll eat it if that’s what really turns you on.”

  Now, I know a bullshitter when I see one. The nigga talked a good game, but he wasn’t eating nothing. Well, that’s okay, I was enjoying myself, and wasn’t ready to go home yet.

  “My girl has to come with me. Do you have a problem with that?”

  He looked at me and then he looked at Amber.

  “Hell naw, I don’t mind. Let’s get outta here.”

  I have to admit, Fred had it all. His neighborhood was beautiful. His home was between Palm Beach Gardens and Jupiter Beach in a subdivision with homes worth at the least seven hundred thousand dollars or more.

  “This is nice,” I said to Fred.

  He just smiled and kept driving.

  We went through a guarded gate and continued twisting and turning through streets. Each house we passed was custom designed with topiary on the perfectly manicured lawns.

  We finally stopped in front of a gate that had the letters FG welded in the center of a black wrought-iron fence. The gate’s opening was in the middle of the FG. We entered slowly and waited for Amber to follow. I rode with Fred and she followed us in my car. When she entered, the gate slowly shut.

  We drove up the winding driveway to the front of the house. There was a beautiful waterfall in the center of the driveway. It was lit up with lights shining from underneath the water.

  When I walked into the house, I knew this man had class.

  “You have a very beautiful home,” I stated.

  He seemed a little embarrassed.

  “Thank you.”

  He turned on a dome light that shone on a semicircular alcove in which several hand-painted African art pieces were aligned on shelves.

  “Would you all like to sit in the den or the bedroom?” he asked.

  Yeah right. What kind of bull was this nigga spitting? When have you ever heard of people chilling in a stranger’s bedroom? Well, you probably thinking, “When do you hear of people doing most of the crazy things I do?” Shoot, you only live once.

  “It doesn’t matter, you decide.”

  Surprise, surprise . . . we followed him to the bedroom. Amber and I sat in the sitting area across from the bed.

  “Make y’all self comfortable.”

  He slipped off his slacks and put on a warmup suit.

  “Can I take a shower?” I asked. “I smell like smoke.” He gave me a towel and walked me to the shower.

  The shower was all marble with gold spigots in each corner. There was a bench with big fluffy embroidered towels on the rack outside the glass doors. The water was so soothing, massaging my sore muscles.

  By the time I came out, Fred and Amber were lying across the bed. “Come relax,” he said, as he patted his hand on the blanket next to him.

  “Have you changed your sheets? I don’t want to sit on anybody else’s mess.”

  He laughed and said, “I don’t have women to my house all the time, this is very unusual for me. My bed is clean. I don’t like sleeping on nobody’s mess either.”

  I lay across the bed.

  “Turn on some music, please.”

  He got up and turned on the CD player and then went to his minibar. He pulled out a bottle of chilled Cristal. You know, I love a man with good taste.

  I was wearing a jersey that he had given me when I got out of the shower. Amber had on her G-string panties and the shirt she wore out. “Oh, that’s my song!” I said loudly as I got up and put on my heels. It was Michelle’s “If.”

  I started moving seductively to the slow romantic beat. I began to rub my body and roll my hips in a circular motion. I looked deep into his eyes, grabbed his hands and held them while I sang the words to the song.

  While I sang, I didn’t take my eyes off him. I slowly turned my back, bent my knees and dropped down to the floor. I kept my hands around my ankles, and I stuck my butt straight in the air, revealing all of my private parts. I rubbed my hand up and down my inner legs, turned around and rubbed my perfectly round breast as I began to stand up. I blew him a kiss, and put my finger to my mouth to kiss it softly.

  He couldn’t take his eyes off me. He started rubbing on himself. When he tried to touch me, I popped his hand.

  “Ungh, unghh . . . you can’t touch the dancer. You know it’s against the house rules.”

  The next song came on, “Nicety,” that was a favorite of mine too. I kept dancing, losing myself more and more to the moment. You know when you get that natural high. That’s how I was vibing at that time.

  The champagne was really starting to get to me; I needed to lie down.

  “Change the music and put on some Trick Daddy so we can give you a taste of the Rolex.” The Rolex is a strip club in Miami.

  Amber started dancing as soon as she heard the music. She started gyrating her hips in and out really fast. She turned around, bent over and slipped her G-string off. Fred’s eyes got big as hell as she bent over, showing every inch of her big butt. She even opened her
butt cheeks so that everything between her legs could be seen. Then she stood straight up and started shaking her butt, while barely moving her legs.

  She grabbed Fred and said, “Let me see what you got.”

  He started dancing, and we starting yelling, “Take it off, take it off! Let us see what you working wit, take it off!”

  I got up, pulled his boxers down but wasn’t ready for what I saw. Amber and I looked at each other with the same “Damn his D big” look on our faces. I reached up and touched it to make sure that I wasn’t seeing things. No pun intended. The harder he got, the bigger he got. Boy was this nigga huge. He had at least ten inches, and it was as fat as a cucumber. His daddy must’ve been a horse ’cause ain’t too many men packin’ like that.

  Amber whispered in my ear, “I gotta get some of this. I want to see how that big thang feels inside me!”

  “Do yo thang girl, or should I say do his.”

  She reached over and started stroking his pole. Then, being the closet freak she is, she bent down and started licking his dick head. As she began to suck him, he looked at me as if he was asking for permission.

  I didn’t mind because I didn’t own him. For that matter, I didn’t even know him. Don’t get me wrong, the brotha had it going on, but he wasn’t mine. That nigga could give it to whoever he wanted. Anyway, I didn’t know if I wanted to see him again. I don’t get excited over looks or size of the pole. A nigga got to get my mind first. If he can’t do that, then a good screw is all he can give me.

  I didn’t want him to feel uncomfortable, so I leaned down and started kissing him on his neck. If he was waiting on my permission, I thought I’d better give it to him.

  “Enjoy yourself, baby.”

  I think my calmness confused him. Even though I know he had no intention of stopping Amber, he still looked like a child stealing cookies from the cookie jar.

  “Y’all have a good time,” I whispered to him.

  In order to give them some privacy, I turned over and began watching The Five Heartbeats. I just love old Eddie Ray King. I know y’all remember that scene. But y’all know I got a little freak in me too, so I had to peek at them. You know, to maybe get a few new positions or something.

  Amber eventually stopped sucking on Fred. As she came up, she tried to put her cat in his face for some licking.

  “I don’t eat pussy.”

  Sure nigga, I thought, but I do like a man that doesn’t eat every woman he screws.

  Amber did not care if he ate the coot or not, she just wanted to feel that big piece of meat inside her.

  He pushed her head back down so she could suck him some more. He said, “Yo lips feel so good around this dick, don’t stop until I tell you to.”

  I thought to myself, “Nigga can’t eat the coot but he want his D sucked.”

  Amber sucked that thang like she got a Master’s in that field. She sucked it so good she made me horny. I know she was real horny by now because she went crazy on the dick head.

  I didn’t know whether Fred was just that smooth, tasted that good, or if Randy had beaten Amber to the point of retardation. ’Cause if a nigga can’t eat this cat ain’t no way he is gonna get a first-class head job like that.

  Amber finally stopped sucking and then tried to sit on it without a rubber. Yep, Randy done knocked her screws loose. Raw D with a strange nigga, honey please. Thank goodness Fred told her to wait then reached in his nightstand to get a condom. I was impressed. Most men would’ve dove in naked head and all. Maybe Fred might be worth checking out a little more.

  When Amber did sit on him, she stayed up there for over thirty minutes. He hit it from the back for about forty-five minutes. By the time they finished, the movie was at its last thirty minutes.

  “Bet you never had a workout like that at spring training,” I said jokingly to Fred.

  After the movie ended, I jumped up and started putting on my clothes.

  “I don’t want you to go; please stay.”

  “But we . . . ”

  “Please.”

  “Yeah Candice, please,” Amber added, mocking Fred.

  I got back in bed and lay on one side as Amber lay on the other.

  Although he had just boned the hell out my friend, he rolled to my side and put his arm around me. Amber didn’t seem to care, she was already knocked out.

  “Goodnight sexy,” he softly said in my ear.

  SEVEN

  The turning point of misery

  is knowing who you are,

  Now deal with your troubles

  no matter how close or how far,

  You are strong, you can do anything,

  The best is yet to come

  So welcome your . . .

  new beginnings

  On Monday when I got to work, five dozen beautiful white roses were sitting on my desk. The card read, “Had a great time. Can we get together again, just you and I? Call me, Fred.”

  Well, well, well . . . looks like Fred really wants to get next to me. The flowers were nice. If a man takes time out of his day to not only think about you, but also send you flowers, then that’s special.

  “Excuse me. Ms. Candice, we have a meeting with our biggest client in fifteen.”

  My assistant had walked up next to me without my noticing.

  “Okay, where’s the file?”

  The day went by fast, and I was so busy that I forgot to call Fred. Like I keep saying, “Money first, fun later.” I left work without even taking the roses.

  I was exhausted by the time I got home. I lit my candles, turned off the lights, put on some slow jams and ran me a bubble bath. Just as I was surrendering to the hot water, my phone rang.

  “Hello.”

  The bass-heavy voice on the other end said, “Hi Candice. Did I catch you at a bad time?”

  I hesitated before I answered. I wanted to make sure it was Fred. Ya girl ain’t bragging, but a player gon’ play. Y’all stop hating, I hear ya. Not many people had my number and Fred wasn’t one of them.

  To make sure I didn’t get caught up, I said, “Well, actually I’m in the tub.”

  “Would you like for me to call you later?”

  Bingo, it’s Fred. That’s definitely his voice. Toi must’ve given him my numbers. Good looking out girl.

  “No, I can talk. Thank you for the roses. They were beautiful. I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to call you back, but work was hectic.”

  “I know. I called to see if you wanted to go to lunch or something, but your secretary said you were in a meeting. But that’s cool. So, when can I take you to lunch, dinner or maybe Paris?”

  Okay Mr. Money Bags you have run up on the right sista now. I know you got money and I don’t mind helping you spend some of it. “Okay dinner Friday, lunch tomorrow and Paris in the spring. Will that work for you?”

  “Whatever you like,” he answered.

  “Well let’s do lunch tomorrow, work on dinner for Friday and can confirm the rest later. Don’t say something that you can’t back up because I am looking for everything you tell me.”

  “I can back up everything that I say and then some,” he replied confidently.

  “Friday sounds good, but I will tell you definitely at lunch after I check my schedule. I might have to fly out of the country to check on a couple of my investments,” I stated in a teasing voice.

  “Do I have to wait until then to call you, or can I call you back later when you’re relaxed in bed?”

  There we go. See my sistas, no matter how much money a man has, the bottom line is that he’s still a man. And, being a man, all he really wants is some ass and attention. When you act like they might get neither, they’ll start begging like the hungry dogs most of them are.

  I told him yes, and then hung up with no other words. You gotta keep them guessing. Not long after I got out of the tub, he called back.

  “Candice?”

  “No, this is Cindy, Candice’s sister.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry. Is Candice there?�
��

  “I’m just kidding, it’s me. So, I see you don’t recognize my voice. That’s strike one.”

  “Hold up. You didn’t warn me about your curve ball questions. Let’s be fair and call that a ball.”

  “All right. Just this time.”

  I enjoyed his conversation, and as we talked, I started looking forward to seeing him.

  There y’all go again. Why y’all keep getting all up in my business? How can I be catching feelings for a man who screwed my girl right in front of me? Because I can do that. Y’all need to gon’ grow up. I know you don’t think yo daddy was the first nigga yo mama boned. I’m about to do this damn thang, feel me.

  When I arrived for work Tuesday morning, there was another arrangement of exotic flowers in a crystal vase.

  “Don’t forget about lunch today and dinner Friday. Missing you much,” read the card. I told y’all a nigga’ll step up his game if given the proper incentives.

  I smiled as I read the card. My secretary, Ms. Debra, said, “From that smile, you must be missing him too.”

  I kept smiling and reviewed my “To Do” list for the day.

  Ms. Debra is a sweet middle-aged woman, who is extremely efficient and effective. She takes good care of me, but she’s a nosey old hag. She’s like one of those friends of your mama who always has something to say about everything. But I wouldn’t trade her in for nothing.

  I had to call Fred to thank him for the gift. I didn’t have his cell phone number on me, so I called his voice mail ser-

  vice.

  “Hello Fred. Your gift was lovely. Keep it up, and we might have to go into extra innings. Oh, I’m sorry I have to cancel lunch today, but call me.”

  Fred called back right before lunch, and we talked until he had to go back to practice.

  From then on, we talked every day, sometimes four times a day, until Friday. Toi called and said that she knew Fred was excited about the date. She overheard Johnny talking to him. If Toi was good for anything, it was snooping for information. She says that she know she is nosy and she can’t help it, that it is in her blood. I think she went into the wrong field; she should’ve been a detective.

  “So, Ms. I don’t wanna meet Fred, are you going to give him some? I know you want to. You already know what he’s working with. A thick big summer sausage.”