The Ramseys Boxed Set

by Altonya Washington

  “If you say so,” Catrina drawled and they dissolved into another round of laughter.

  ***

  Daphne and Babydoll had debated tirelessly on the most provocative hairstyle for her meeting with Marcus Ramsey. In the end of course, Babydoll’s word won out.

  “Loose and tousled is more alluring.” Babydoll was saying while taking in the results of her styling skills.

  Seated at the vanity, Daphne stared at the mass of heavily teased blondish brown curls framing her face. Her mother was right.

  The next debate involved attire.

  “It’s dumb to dress in anything too fancy…it won’t be on long.” Daphne reasoned.

  “Oh no girl,” Babydoll had disappeared into her walk in closet. “A woman can never spend too much time on appearance regardless of what’s in store.”

  Daphne ceased further argument when she spotted the creation her mother whipped from the closet. Slowly, she ventured toward the bed, looking down on the empire-wasted chiffon lounging gown Babydoll had placed there.

  In a daze, Daphne leaned in to rub the fine material between her fingers. Nothing she owned was as lovely. “This night could be the beginning of the rest of my life,” she whispered.

  Babydoll winked. “Let’s get you ready.”

  ~~~

  Marcus was ready for a night of celebration and; in his opinion there was no better way to celebrate than with a vigorous round of sex. There was nothing better than sex period. He’d held fast to that opinion since losing his virginity at the sweet age of eleven.

  Following the very generous payoff from the lab job, he was ready to throw a bit of his earnings around town. Calling Babydoll Monfrey was tops on his list. Marc smoothed the pad of his thumb across his brows and checked the crisp white ascot at his neck. He wondered who she’d set him up with that night.

  Obviously not herself, though a night with the madam was in his budget and would certainly be money well spent given the woman’s extensive talents. Babydoll had told him she had a special girl in mind-new and untouched. As he’d sampled many of Babydoll’s other treasures; having the newest on the row, was as impressive as it was ego-stroking.

  ***

  Babydoll arranged for a quiet evening at the house. She’d sent her other girls away for client weekends or simply given them the night off with specific instructions not to return before lunchtime the next day. She herself would remain down in her private parlor and be first-second to see the look of immense satisfaction on Marcus Ramsey’s face when he strolled down her front stairs.

  He’d be nothing but pleased. She was certain. Daphne was a vision and; while having the girl opt for a lifestyle similar to her own was not her intention; Babydoll knew sex had its rewards. If the girl snagged a Ramsey… oh the life she’d lead! The same would be true for her mother, Babydoll imagined.

  ~~~

  “Marcus baby, what a pleasure to see you again!” Babydoll answered with a flourish when the bell rang promptly at 9:20 p.m.

  Marc greeted the striking, older beauty with a kiss to the cheek and then passed her an envelope from an inside pocket on his black dinner jacket.

  “Perfect.” She thumbed through the wad of fifties in the envelope. “Come in love.” She said, still counting the cash. Satisfied with the financial arrangements, Babydoll nodded toward the emerald green carpeted stairway.

  “Third room on the left.”

  New, was the first word that sprang to Marc’s mind when he saw the treat reclining upon the pillow and lace trimmed canopy bed. Like an adornment for a cake, she sat waiting for him and he felt his fingertips itch to touch.

  “Marcus Ramsey.” He introduced himself, feeling the flames stoke his ego when he witnessed the brightening of her gaze at the sound of his name.

  “Daphne Monfrey,” she countered, witnessing the same brightening of his gaze at the sound of her name.

  “Your mother said you were new.” He removed the suit jacket and ascot not caring where they fell. “I can see that you are.” His shirt was unbuttoned and his hands went to his belt. “She also said you were untouched- that true too?”

  Her lips curved and she settled back a bit more. “You’ll have to find that out for yourself.”

  Marc wasted no time with more pleasantries and was on her a second later.

  “How old are you Daphne?”

  “Fourteen.”

  His gaze narrowed. “You mind being a whore like your mother?”

  She arched her breasts deeper into his chest. “That would depend on how good at it I am.”

  He laughed shortly and took a moment to more closely observe her. “You’re not an ordinary fourteen year old. I don’t intend to treat you like one.” He looked up, allowing her to see the intent in his dark stare.

  Daphne’s smile was knowing and approving when Marc tore the sleeve of the gown in his attempt to drag down the bodice. She’d tried to tell her mother it wouldn’t last long.

  His mouth was on her then, suckling surprisingly ample breasts. Feverishly, he pushed at the gown until his hand contacted with her bare thighs. She wore no undergarments and he shuddered over the discovery. His fingers skirted the folds of her sex, his ego flaring at the tiny sounds of desire rising from her throat.

  Not wanting to deflower her too soon-not with his fingers anyway. He gently explored her there emitting his own grunt when her need slicked his fingers. Marc wanted to savor the treat, but decided that would have to come later. The young, eager confection in his arms was too provocative for her own good.

  Quickly, he freed himself, parted her thighs to suit him and drove into her.

  “You’re no virgin,” he groaned while moving in and out then rotating to draw moans from her mouth.

  “Disappointed?”

  “Hell no.”

  “So you…enjoyed our time together?” Daphne felt mildly agitated that it was happening so quickly.

  Marcus however, was grinning as he continued to take her. “I’ll tell you in the morning.”

  R

  ~CHAPTER SEVEN~

  Harriett Cade knew her attitude regarding Belleina Stone had the desired affect on her husband. Joe had been pretty obedient in the weeks and months following the Ramsey event. Still, Harriett wasn’t naïve enough to believe her rages over the other woman would keep Joe’s leash tight for long.

  When his visits to Gordon’s Liquor and Smokes (the ones he didn’t think she knew about) went from one visit a week, to three, Harriett knew it wouldn’t be long until he’d be hankering to revisit other vices.

  She’d been following him for the last two weeks. Easy enough, since Felix had been sticking closer to home while waiting on a call about a new job. Harriett flexed her fingers around the steering wheel and grimaced. She’d have to find out more about this possible job as well. Could her baby really be contemplating leaving home? The idea made her shiver and draw the black shawl more tightly about her round shoulders. Felix would never return to Savannah once he left.

  Just then however, she had other matters to see to. In her son’s old inconspicuous Chevy truck, Harriett kept tabs on her husband. Following at a reasonable distance was tough work. By the end of the first week, she was tired of sitting on the truck’s tough leather seat until her ass went numb. She began to count all the chores and errands being neglected while she played detective. She had to at least give it one more week though. Then she’d admit to paranoia and let it go. If anything happened between Joe and his tramp after that, then so be it.

  ~~~

  Fate intervened on the night marking 3 ½ weeks of surveillance. Harriett sat waiting outside Gordon’s; toying between staying and just heading home. Just as well, she thought tightening the scarf about her French waves. Felix was already growing suspicious. She didn’t think he was buying her church revival or choir rehearsal excuses much anymore. At any rate, she’d already decided to let it all go that night. This was crazy. She was better than this. She deserved better than this. She damn well deserved
better than a sorry nigga like Joe Cade.

  Laughter and heavy talking filled the night air. Harriett sat up to see Pilfrey Gordon leaning on the doorjamb of his establishment while seeing off his last customer- Joe Cade.

  Harriett bit down on her bottom lip feeling the faint metallic taste of blood on the tip of her tongue. She felt that flutter in her stomach as her heart took a swim there and knew it was the sight of Joe that had done it. God, would she always be a fool for that man? He’d made her love him, desire him, bear his child and practically raise the boy on her own while he’d given next to nothing in return.

  “Well…he had given some things in return. He’d given betrayal, money thrown away on liquor, cigars and the occasional gamble- not to mention the many, many women he’d tossed in her face and the excuses/apologies that followed. In that regard, yes Joe Cade had given her much.

  Pilfrey was waving off Joe who had settled in his truck and soon brought the engine to roaring life. Harriett waited until he’d driven off before she started the Chevy. With an expertise she’d acquired over the last few weeks, she followed undetected. Judging from the way Joe had floated into the truck earlier, she figured he was probably too mellow to notice a thing.

  They were some five minutes from home when Harriett gave into the yawn she’d been trying to stifle. She prepared to take the turn which would lead to their street when she noticed Joe was heading straight. Either he was going a different route or too drunk to realize he’d missed the turn- or he had another stop to make.

  The desire to yawn was gone. Harriett’s dark round face was a picture of alertness. She pressed a little harder on the gas. Only another minute and a half confirmed Joe’s destination- Belleina Stone’s. Harriett’s hands felt cramped around the steering wheel. Her gaze was blurred with tears but she pressed on- anger echoed in her body and mind. She could hear hate-filled words hissing almost with a life of their own throughout the close confines of the truck’s cabin. Several times she squeezed her eyes shut tight to ward off the tears and the angry hissing. She ordered herself to return home and forget this madness, but she pressed on and never veered off the path.

  When he arrived at Belleina’s, Harriett held back and parked an ample distance with the lights doused. She waited- wanted to give them time for hugs and kisses of welcome, hushed words of bursting desire. She wanted to catch them in the midst of it. Perhaps then and only then she’d be purged of her love and need for him. Perhaps then, she could walk away with no desire to turn back.

  ***

  Westin heard Briselle’s heavy sigh and snuggled his head closer to her chest. He took comfort in the sound of her heart beating below her breast. Of course, it didn’t take long though to realize her sighs had little to do with contentment.

  “You’re gonna miss this.” He undid the button up bodice of her dark mini dress.

  Briselle scanned the moonlit beauty of the flower laden field. It had become her favorite place in all of Savannah- the place where she met the man she’d marry.

  “I’ll miss it a little.” She laughed when he tickled her. “A lot, a lot!” Another sigh followed once she sobered. “I’m scared West.”

  “Scared to come with me?” He raised his head.

  “Scared you’ll regret that I did.”

  The muscle flexed along his square jaw. He wouldn’t reassure her there; not when he’d done that time and time again. She’d have to come to accept that on her own.

  She seemed to read his mind. “I’m not looking for reassurance from you, but from myself.” She rubbed her thumb across the face of his watch glinting in the moonlight. “I’m scared I’ll fail West and I’d have no one to blame but myself.”

  “Honey,” he brushed the back of his hand along her cheek. All the while he battled the frustration that she’d blame herself for what she had no control over. This would be an issue until they were blessed in the way she believed would be her redemption.

  “Will you promise me somethin’?” He sat up on the pallet they shared and pulled her with him. “Would you put the disappointments and…losses away once we go to Seattle? It’s supposed to represent change- a new life for all of us. Old pain has no place there. You think you could try- see if it might help?”

  Briselle’s eyes glossed with the love she had for him and the beauty of his words. Nodding, she tugged on the hem of his pin-striped top and drew him into a kiss.

  ***

  Marcus and Daphne collapsed on the bed- naked and slick with sweat. Daphne giggled insanely when he gnawed at her neck. Seconds later, she turned the tables, rolling over to cover his body with hers.

  “Have you been with any of my Mama’s other girls since our first night together?

  Marc resumed his gnawing. “Why would I want them with I’ve got the cream of the crop?”

  “That’d be Mama.”

  “But the apple don’t fall far, right? Besides,” he clutched her bottom, “this apple’s firmer.”

  Laughter resumed, then kissing which Daphne put her all into. She knew it’d take more than a few weeks of screwing Marcus Ramsey to get him to give her his name. But as Babydoll said, ‘sex was power’. If Marc’s hunger for her were any example, her power was growing.

  As though he’d somehow captured a glimpse of her thoughts, Marc suddenly pulled away.“You gonna start getting’ mushy on me?” He asked.

  She rolled her eyes. “Where’s the fun in that?”

  For a time, he searched her face before deciding she was telling the truth. He flipped her beneath him and resumed feasting upon her body. Softly, Daphne heaved a sigh of relief.

  ***

  After ten minutes, Harriett accepted the fact that her husband and his whore weren’t going to sidle off to bed like good little lovers. Imaging them having a chat over coffee in the kitchen chilled something deep inside her. The relationship was more than sex, there was intimacy and it had lasted almost as long as her marriage. That he could talk to this woman, share things and laugh over private jokes with her was yet another thorn that would burrow deeply in her side and fester.

  When she threw open the screen door however; the phrase ‘be careful what you wish for’; dashed in her face like water. She’d wanted to see them in the act of it, then cursed when she thought it was not to be and raged that something more meaningful might be amiss. Now, what she wanted was there blaring like a bugle horn. Harriett watched while her husband took another woman from behind.

  Her grandmother had once said men looked outside the home for what they couldn’t get inside it. Harriett knew that was a crock of shit. Men looked anywhere for whatever it was they wanted at the moment. She’d been an open partner in their marriage bed. Joe got what he wanted- the way he wanted it. She’d never had a complaint either. Yet he chose his whore to fulfill what could have just as easily been obtained from his wife.

  There he was giving to another woman what she once foolishly thought; during the stupidity of youth, was meant for only her. Pants and boxers pooled around the work boots he still wore. Belleina’s dress was bunched up at her waist. Their groans and words of desire filled the kitchen to such a volume, neither heard or noticed her entering and standing there to witness their lust vent itself.

  Dishes clattered against the brush of their bodies next to the counter; some fell to the floor. Silverware clattered and then skidded across the linoleum. When the gleaming butcher’s knife slid to a stop at her feet, Harriett considered it fate.

  Joe shut his eyes tight, feeling his release at hand. He squeezed Belleina’s generous bottom, spreading the cheeks wider apart while shuddering a curse at the increased penetration. Belleina reached back, pulling one of his hands to her breast-aching for him to fondle the tip. She tossed her head wildly and moaned his name. Her lashes fluttered, her eyes caught a glimpse of light flash against the stainless steel surface of the toaster. Then she heard Joe scream. It was not a scream of pleasure.

  Joe’s flaccid sex dangled pitifully before him when he withdrew from Bel
leina. Frantically, he clapped at his shoulder and attempted to reach what had pierced his spine. His fingers just grazed the handle protruding from his back. The pain was wrenching- his brain had somehow deduced it was a knife but where had it come from? His wild twists, as he worked to reach the blade, eventually turned him toward his wife.

  “Harry?” He fell to his knees.

  Belleina watched, horrified when her lover collapsed. She turned a scathing look toward Harriett. “Bitch.” She moved close.

  Harriett had lost her zeal for arguing or talk of any kind. She held a medium sized iron skillet which had also fallen to the floor during the love fest she’d witnessed. Before Belleina Stone spoke another word, the skillet hit her mouth. Harriett scarecely blinked while bringing down the pan on the woman’s face and body.

  “Joe!” Faintly Belleina realized the man was in no shape to help her. “Jas!” She remembered then that her son had gone out to Jonas Gray’s farm for a job. He wouldn’t be back ‘til the morning.

  An eerie crack sounded, the next blow from the pan split Belleina’s skull. Harriett continued flaying the black, rough skillet as though it were a whip.

  Belleina was losing consciousness, barely able to lift her arms to ward off the blows. It was a useless move anyway. Blood blurred her gaze as it streamed her face.

  Joe managed to dislodge the knife. Rising to his feet would be another challenge. Slowly, he extended a hand, unable to make a sound while watching the woman he loved being massacred by the other woman he loved.

  Drawing strength from someplace deep, Joe was able to stagger to his feet using overturned chairs and the table for support.

  “Harriett,” he reached his wife just as Belleina surrendered to the attack. For his trouble, he received a blow to the cheek from the iron skillet.

  In an almost robotic fashion, Harriett traded her attack on Belleina for one on Joe. The pan came down repeatedly- relentlessly. No emotion registered on her face. Beating down her husband took much less time as he was already wounded.