We All Scream

by Nona Wesley

  “I’m sorry,” he said, shaking the thoughts away. “My Sun is…er, my name is Sun.”

  She arched an eyebrow. “Don’t tell me you were named after the restaurant. Has it been around that long?”

  “No.” The thought to mention that he owned the place, that he named it for himself passed quickly. Why spoil the dirty movie fantasy? “It just happens to be common name where my parents are from. Like John.”

  “I see.” She appeared thoughtful for a moment. “Do I get to see Sun rise?”

  Her breasts rose and relaxed with each deep breath—the movement hypnotized Sun to the point of melting his insides and aching his cock. Who could talk with a voice box dripping babble down his throat? Yet, he heard well enough to let his hands get to work. In seconds his clothes ringed his bare feet and he stood naked before the bed. Sun enjoyed the progressive shift of expressions on Diahann’s face, from amusement to surprise, and finally awe.

  “Oh, my,” she whispered, he gaze fixed on his erection.

  * * * *

  The second the delivery boy—man, Diahann mentally corrected herself, for no boy could possibly pack that much heat—shed his Jockeys, the rest of the evening ticked past in a sexual fog. The last rational thought she recalled before Sun lined his body up against hers niggled at her to reconsider, tell him to get dressed and leave, and forget he ever came to her home. Yet the second skin touched skin the electric pulse between them reawakened her longings. This moment no longer served to seek revenge on Wayne’s betrayal, but to celebrate what she could have with him out of the picture.

  Sun eased himself on top of her, and they kissed passionately as their limbs tangled. His cock rolled over her cleft and she parted her legs to cradle him, and perhaps achieve the right amount of friction against her clit to bring on an orgasm. For every move she made, Sun matched in perfect harmony—his hands and tongue synchronized to probe and explore her all over. She did her best to keep up with him, sliding her hands up and down his back and squeezing his buttocks. When one ghosted around and under to cup his scrotum he jerked upward with a moan into her mouth, and she realized she’d hit an erogenous zone.

  He broke free and laved her nipples again. Diahann had realized before now how intensely stimulated her breasts were. Of course, little attention had been paid by Wayne. Same had to be said for her navel, which Sun now probed. Diahann stroked his thick, jet black hair, enjoying the curve of muscular, light latte-skinned landscape stretched before her. She liked the sight of his bare ass, taut and smooth, and wished she could watch it pump as he pounded into her.

  Sun looked up momentarily and smiled. His fingers now toyed with her pussy, breaching her and circling her clit. She didn’t have to ask his intent, and widened her thighs farther apart for him. He kissed her abdomen before sinking off the foot of the bed and, with one hand cuffing her left knee, he used the other to rub her pussy lips. Each downward stroke served to increase her desire for him. She needed his tongue, his cock—something—inside her now.

  Finally he appeased her with a broad lick upward, from her core to her clit, then another. He pursed his lips over the tender flesh and sucked gently, stirring in Diahann a dizzying sensation never before ignited outside of an evening with her vibrator. The buildup increased in time to his attentions, and as he added two fingers to explore her pussy her body quaked with her climax.

  The explosion tore a string of expletives from her mouth, and for a second she felt embarrassed by her reaction to Sun. She didn’t cuss normally, but then hooking up with strangers hardly fit her personality, either. If the four-letter words caused Sun any alarm, however, he didn’t show it. He only rested his cheek against her thigh and breathed in her scent. Those same fingers gently plunged deeper into her and hooked, rubbing her inner walls.

  “Damn, that’s good. You’re good,” she said.

  “You are,” he said. She followed his gaze to her side table, then back in time to see his lips quirk to one side in a lopsided smile. If she interpreted it correctly as permission to go forward, why not just ask? She wanted to laugh, it seemed odd to act shy now.

  “Please,” she said, and reached for the condom as he lifted himself back onto the bed. Kneeling before her, he rolled the latex on his cock before pointing it down to her pussy. The first inch eased inside with some difficulty, and Diahann tried to relax to accommodate him. It felt as though her body wanted one last chance to protest, even in vain, before succumbing. Seconds later, he filled her. Diahann cried out from the delicious, initial pain the movement brought.

  As Sun covered her chest with his, and peppered her face and neck with light kisses, Diahann regained her aggression. She grasped his buttocks with both hands in an effort to guide his rhythm, enjoying the undulation of his hips as he rocked deep into her. She thrust upward to meet him stroke for stroke, amazed at the sensation of each movement. She hadn’t believed until now how intercourse could stimulate her—she’d assumed her orgasmic nature rose and set on attention to her clit. Now, as Sun’s cock curved and delved into her, it seemed to ignite new fires building up to another release.

  She watched the play of emotions on his face, the way his eyelids fluttered and his cheeks hollowed as he breathed. His arms braced the mattress, bulging with muscles and tight cords. His skin flushed, and felt warm to the touch. She brought her hands to his chest by way of his broad back and shoulders, and teased his hardened nipples, nearly laughing at his twitching reaction.

  “Oh, you do that now and I’ll come,” he warned. “I’m almost there anyway.”

  “Let me hear it.” Wayne, at best, delivered a muted grunt equivalent to that of somebody suffering a stomach ailment. To hear a man cry out his pleasure for what she did to him would satisfy her. As it happened, she sensed a second orgasm imminent and hoped to time it with his.

  She tensed and clenched her pussy around him, but quickly relaxed as the tingling within her faded. She wanted this wave to crest and wash away any self-consciousness and pain caused by Wayne’s deceit. Sun continued to thrust into her, and soon the feeling returned. Sweat beaded on his forehead and she lifted her legs to wrap around his torso, hooking them at the ankles.

  “Oh, yeah, just like that.” He squirmed in her grip and looked about to say more, but a shuddering groan signaled his orgasm. A multi-syllabic “Uhh!” streamed from his mouth until his voice faded to mute, and he settled back onto her for a long kiss. She felt his heart pound into her chest.

  Nice. She stroked his shoulders and back, enjoying her own afterglow. She didn’t know how much time elapsed until Sun eventually rose from bed. Much as she enjoyed the play of tension in his back muscles as he stretched, she realized she needed to say something before the moment turned awkward.

  “Thank you,” she said, then, “I hope this doesn’t get you in trouble at work.”

  He shook his head, grinning at her. “Don’t worry about it. I’m,” he paused for a moment before continuing, “pretty tight with the boss.” A deep breath, a slap to his thighs, then, “I should go.”

  As he quickly dressed, she found her robe, intent to see him out. All through the quiet until he got into his car to leave, she fought the temptation to say anything more. Diahann didn’t want to risk encouraging him, or imply his “delivery” services might become a regular occurrence.

  Yet as she watched his car turn off her street and into her memory, she wondered that if the adage about being hungry an hour after Chinese food also applied to sex.

  Would she be horny an hour later? She shrugged and chuckled to herself.

  Certainly not for Wayne.

  Chapter Four

  Diahann handled the opening procedures alone, seeing as how she arrived at MMMarshall’s earlier than usual. Dee didn’t arrive until twenty minutes after Diahann flipped the store sign to Open, and with her came no apology for her tardiness. Not that her presence mattered, as Diahann only served one customer in the interim.

  An hour into the work day, Diahann leaned on the service
counter to finish some paperwork when she surreptitiously caught her sister staring at her. She turned slowly to regard Dee’s stifled, silly grin.

  “What is wrong with you?”

  “What did you do last night after I left?”

  “Nothing.” The word came out strangled as Diahann fruitlessly masked a laugh. She avoided her sister’s piercing gaze to concentrate on the invoices before her, yet continued to read the first line over and again. Dee, standing on the opposite side of the counter, idly dabbing at spots with a wet rag, sidled closer into Diahann’s personal space.

  “You lie.”

  “You pry,” Diahann shot back. “None of your business.”

  “Oh, so you did do something…or someone?” Dee’s voice took on a grating sing-song quality that lowered into a suggestive hum. Diahann picked out the awkward rendition of Bootylicious and realized Dee wouldn’t let up until she spilled. No sense in making up a story, either, as Dee possessed the inquisitive mind of a tabloid reporter. A simple fabrication would snowball into an avalanche of lies until Diahann cracked, she knew.

  “Fine,” she sighed and folded her arms over the papers. “Let’s just say I took your advice last night.”

  The low murmur pitched high in Dee’s throat, and she slapped Diahann on the back. “Miss Marshall, walking on the wild side!” Then, settling into one of the swivel stools, “I want every last filthy detail. Ooh, you better pour me something cold, too. Got a feeling I’ll need it.”

  Diahann shrugged and reached for the scoop in the ice bin. Filling a glass halfway with crushed cubes, she set it under the diet soda spout. “Not much to tell,” she said. “It was just a night of sweaty, commitment-free sex, just like you suggested. Not even a night, ’bout an hour or so.”

  “Was he good?” Dee stretched the last word into several syllables, and rested her chin on the heels of her hands.

  Diahann recalled delivery man Sun’s strong hands and eager mouth, and her skin tingled with the memory of their lovemaking. “Oh yeah.”

  “Give me my drink.”

  She smiled at Dee and slid over the glass. Lifting the knob of the nearby straw dispenser, she spun it between her finger and thumb as the straws fanned outward from the cylinder. Dee selected one and plunged it into her fizzy drink.

  “So,” Dee continued, “what? Did you head over to Sylvan’s for their late-night menu and get a sweet treat to go?”

  “Not quite. I, ah, sent out for Chinese.”

  Dee didn’t need long to ponder that double entendre. Lips still pursed around her straw, she peered up from her soda. “Jackie Chan?”

  Diahann nodded, this time unable to hide her giddiness. She nodded and opened her mouth to oblige Dee with the wanted, filthy details, but the sudden look of horror in her sister’s eyes stopped her.

  “He came to the house, and you fucked him?” Dee asked, near panic.

  “What’s the big deal?” Diahann returned defensively. “You had the big idea in the first place, and yes we used protection.” Good lord, she didn’t want to believe Dee would fault her for sleeping with someone other than a black man.

  “Yes, but he knows where you live, girl. I said get laid, I didn’t say nothing about bringing a guy home.” Dee eased off the stool and paced the empty dining area. “You don’t know that he’s not gonna be stalking you at your house…

  “I don’t think that will happen, Dee.” At least, Diahann hoped not. Sun appeared to be a sweet man—a damned good lover, for sure—certainly not capable of dubious behavior.

  Right?

  Dee hit full-rant mode, however, so there would be no stopping her for a while. “I bet he gossips, too. You’re gonna have every delivery boy within a twenty-mile radius leaving menus at your door.” She scoffed. “Nobody’s gonna redline you, just sayin’.”

  “Dee, enough.” Diahann fisted the invoices and stormed back into the office near the kitchen. “Should have just kept my damn mouth shut.”

  “Should have kept your legs shut together, instead of letting strange men into your house,” Dee called behind her. “There’s like a hundred hotel rooms in town you could have used.”

  “Thank you!” Diahann huffed, frustrated. The office alcove in the kitchen area had no door—so much for a satisfying slam to block out Dee’s taunts. Instead she slumped into the armless chair at a desk laden with stuffed manila folders and rested her head on one pile. She closed her eyes and the image of Sun hovering over her, lowering to take a nipple between his teeth, came into focus. A nice evening to remember, it was, and definitely one never to repeat. Dee’s assertions worried her, however. What if the delivery boy did try to make contact again? They had parted well, she mused, and he seemed to understand the score.

  What could she do? Inevitably Mrs. Hong would order out for sweet and sour chicken again, and Diahann had to hope the Rising Sun would send somebody else to deliver it.

  In the distance the bell attached to the front door chimed, signaling a customer at last. Diahann inhaled and mustered her calm strength. She didn’t need to be seen looking flustered.

  Yet when she joined Dee at the counter, she felt the giddiness launch butterflies in her stomach. Dee leaned on the counter, appraising their guests.

  “Hey, Jackie Chan,” she chided Sun, “you packing sweet or sour today?”

  * * * *

  “Turn here.”

  Chet winced and sucked in air as his bad foot tapped the brake. Sun said nothing, but rolled his head in the hand propped by the elbow leaning against the passenger side window of Chet’s car. Despite walking away from the restaurant last night with not so much as a limp, his friend certainly seemed to play the injured card with relish.

  “The less you work, the less I pay you, so you know,” Sun told him.

  “Slave driver,” Chet grumbled, easing the car into the parking lot of Hilltop Plaza.

  “I hear the Double J is hiring a busboy. You could wipe tables and scrub toilets. No driving at all involved.”

  “I’ll live.” Chet recovered his mood quickly with a silly grin. He rolled into a space before a vacant storefront and killed the engine. “This the place?”

  Sun pulled his cell phone from his jacket pocket and checked the screen. “Yeah. Bill was supposed to meet us here…” he frowned, “and he’s just texted me that he’s running late. Shit.” He didn’t have time to waste today. Saturday proved to be Rising Sun’s busiest day, particularly if the local college had sporting events scheduled. Mimi could only do so much—she’d need their help soon.

  “You think this will be a better location than the one you already have?” Chet asked. “I kind of like where you are now. If I come to work here, I’ll have to drive further.”

  “Actually, the more I think about it, this would be a second store.”

  “Really?” They both exited the car at the same time, and Chet followed Sun to the picture window. He cupped his hands to the glass and squinted for a better look at the abandoned tables and upturned chairs. “It’s bigger than the old place,” he said. “You thinking of doing more eat-in business?”

  Sun nodded. “Probably a full-time buffet service for lunch and dinner with takeout. I wouldn’t have to hire a lot of waitstaff for that. Save it for an extra cook.” He peered inside to size up the available space. “Mimi’s talked about wanting space for a bakery. We could sell her stuff here, too.”

  “Hey, if Mimi’s moving to this here, I’ll make the drive, especially if she makes those awesome jellyroll cakes.” Chet leaned against the glass, a dreamy smile softening his face. “Great, now I want something sweet.”

  Sun thought at first to segue to a comment about his sister, but couldn’t be sure how that might play with Chet. Knowing his friend, he’d tell Mimi and the girl would give him hell for it. Turning, he spotted the ice cream parlor in the plaza and crooked his neck in that direction.

  “Let me text Bill that we’ll wait for him there,” he said. “Come on, I’ll buy you a soda.”

  “Oka
y, but no sharing.” Chet fell in step behind him. “I don’t need anybody catching us sharing straws.”

  A blast of frigid air rushed over Sun as he opened the door, and immediately the aroma of fresh baked waffle cones set his stomach rumbling. He had heard of this place, but never got the chance to visit since it wasn’t close to home or work. One step inside, though, and he’d fallen in love. He took in with appreciation the retro décor of MMMarshall’s—a hybrid of anachronistic fixtures memorabilia, from the Wurlitzer jukebox in one corner to the posters of Elvis, Marilyn Monroe, and other icons gracing the walls.

  “Hey, Jackie Chan! You packing sweet or sour today?”

  His gaze snapped to the right, where a familiar figure leaned over a pristine counter trimmed with checkerboard tile. He recognized her as the boisterous woman taunting him outside…

  Words caught in his throat. Marshall. This woman had to be a relation, then. Which meant…

  “Dee,” called a voice from the open doorway behind the counter, and a lovely yet agitated Diahann Marshall strode into view. She stopped short on seeing him, suddenly demure now.

  “Oh, never mind,” she said quickly, her voice meeker. “Go ahead and see to our customers.” Just like that, she disappeared for the safety of the kitchen. Chet, oblivious to the tension further chilling the space, sauntered up to the counter close to where Dee stood.

  “Can’t speak for sweet and sour, but I know where you can get some spicy Kung Pao,” he said, his tone playful and eyebrows waggling. Dee clearly found the crack amusing judging from the twist, restrained laughter about to escape her smile, yet she kept her gaze fixed on Sun. The crease of her brow and the slight tilt of her head indicated some annoyance, and Sun realized Diahann Marshall told her about last night.