MadameFrankie

by Stanley Bennett Clay

  * * * * *

  Days and weeks passed. Trudy’s recovery was slow. Frankie and Yvette began to worry. They knew they had to do something.

  Finally, they came up with a plan.

  “We’re coming by,” Frankie informed Trudy when Trudy answered her phone.

  “Listen, Frankie—”

  But Frankie had already hung up before Trudy had a chance to object.

  Less than an hour later, Frankie and Yvette were ringing Trudy’s doorbell. Trudy peeked out the window through her lace curtains like an old dowager recluse. Frankie put her hand on her hip and flipped her hair at the sight of Trudy. Then she nudged Yvette.

  “Don’t be trollin’ us like we a couple of damn Jehovah’s Witnesses, bitch, come and open this damn door,” Yvette demanded.

  With a sigh and a weak smile, Trudy let the curtains fall back in place, made her way to her front door and slowly opened it.

  “Hey,” she said glumly.

  “Hey, girl,” Frankie said, hugging her.

  “Gimme some of that too,” Yvette insisted, joining in the hug.

  “Come on in,” she said, leading them into the living room. “I hope there’s something to drink in that bag. I haven’t been out to the store.”

  “Don’t worry, doll,” Frankie said, pulling out a bottle of chardonnay. “We got you covered.”

  “Look, I’m doing better than I look,” she said as she entered her kitchen and found three wineglasses and a corkscrew.

  “You look fine, Trudy,” Frankie said.

  “I know all this moping around is not going to bring Michael back to me.”

  “So then why are you moping around?”

  “You wouldn’t understand, Yvette.” Trudy returned to the living room and sat in the chair across from her girls on the sofa. She handed each of them a glass and set the bottle of wine and the corkscrew on the coffee table between them.

  “What she’s trying to say, Trudy, is Michael may be gone, but he would want you to be happy,” Frankie said while Yvette opened the wine and filled their glasses. “Among all the other great things he accomplished, knowing you’re happy would probably give him the greatest satisfaction, wherever he is.”

  “He’s in my heart.”

  “Yes he is. So keep that heart happy and warm for him.”

  “Lift up your glasses, divas,” Yvette commanded, taking the lead. And they did. “To Michael!”

  “To Michael!” Frankie and Trudy repeated. And they all took a drink.

  Suddenly, Trudy broke out into a giggle. “That felt sooo good,” she said.

  “See?” Frankie said, touching Trudy’s hand.

  “Oh! Almost forgot!” Yvette said, reaching in the bag parked next to her.

  “You’re gonna love this,” Frankie said, putting her wineglass down.

  “Now we know you’ve been a little out of practice,” Yvette continued as she rummaged. “So we picked you up a little something.”

  “What?”

  “Remember that big black dildo you were salivating over at the Pleasure Chest?” Frankie asked with a sly smile.

  “Y’all didn’t!”

  “Voilà!” Frankie declared, whipping out the gift-wrapped phallus.

  “Oh! My! God!”

  “God should be so hung.”

  “You are such a heathen, bitch,” Trudy gleefully snapped at Yvette, reaching out with both hands, accepting the gift as if it were the Holy Grail. She then looked up at her friends, eyes glazed. “I love you guys.”

  “Well you’re gonna love us even more after we’re finished with you, “ Frankie said.

  “What?”

  “Is your passport in order?”

  “Of course.”

  “Then get ready for the adventure of a lifetime.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “We are treating you to a week’s vacation in the Dominican Republic at House of John!”

  “That whore house y’all go to all time?”

  “That whore house the three of us are going to,” Frankie continued.

  “Next week,” Yvette added

  “Nah, nah, Yvette. I don’t think so.”

  “Girl, are you trying to put that pussy in a nunnery?” Yvette huffed.

  “Thanks to Mr. Black here, my pussy will be in better hands than Allstate,” Trudy said, swinging the gift-wrapped dildo.

  “Mr. Black is fine for a toy,” Franke gently said. “But eventually you gotta get back to the real thing.”

  “I’m not ready for the real thing right now. The real thing died, Frankie.”

  “But you didn’t.”

  “Look, I’ve never been with another man in my whole life but Michael.”

  “Well it’s time for you to open up with some new possibilities,” said Yvette. “And I do mean open up.”

  “I wouldn’t even know what to do.”

  “Do what you did with Michael,” Yvette declared.

  “Make him proud,” Frankie stated like a veteran.

  “I’m not ready yet. I’m just not ready.”

  “If not now, when, girl?” Yvette asked with a head twist.

  “Listen, I appreciate what you guys are trying to do, but I’m still grieving.”

  “We know, Trudy. And there’s nothing better to ease some grief than a little good-ass sex.”

  “For you, sex is the cure for everything, Yvette.”

  “And look at me. Healthy, hot and horny as a bull in a cow field.”

  “Listen, I’m going to pass for now. Maybe down the line. Maybe. But for now, you ladies have a good trip.”

  * * * * *

  That love intervention from her girls was just what Trudy needed. She was so lucky to have them.

  Long after they’d gone, the soothing of their visit kept a smile on her face.

  She’d been sitting in her window and watching the pink-orange sun set beneath the Santa Monica mountain range.

  She had been there long enough to watch the moonrise. And the moon smiled down on her. And suddenly in its bright, ivory white glow, she saw Michael’s smile. And then she heard his voice—deep, rich, resonate, strong, soft.

  “It’s gonna be all right, baby,” he was telling her. “You’re gonna be all right.”

  And as much as she missed him, she believed him. He always told her the truth. She knew these words of encouragement were as truthful as all his previous times of soothing her.

  “Thank you, my love,” she whispered softly, looking up into the sky, looking up at Michael’s gleaming white smile.

  Slowly she threw him a goodnight kiss and she felt the kiss he threw back at her.

  Trudy sighed with a new kind of relief, knowing he would be there watching over her, encouraging her to go on with the art of living. She was ready and willing to obey.

  After drawing a warm bubble bath, Trudy undressed slowly, then slipped into the tub. She delighted in the liquid, fragranced soothing for more than a half hour, sponging every inch of her big, beautiful body with sensual delicacy.

  When she finished, she dried herself off in front of the bathroom’s full-length mirror, smiling at the sight of her curvaceous frame. She slowly ran the towel under and around her full D-cup breasts, then around and about the thick hips Michael had referred to as the hips of a woman.

  She then went to her bedroom and laid her naked body down on the bed. She stared up at the ceiling and moved her hands slowly over her smooth body, giving it a relaxing massage.

  Eventually her fingers found her warm opening. Her probing gave her a tingle. She sighed and continued the playful probe until she was warmed up for ultimate pleasure.

  She had already unwrapped and washed her new toy. The big, shiny black dildo lay cradled in a lace-lined chaffing dish on her nightstand. She reached over and found it by touch.

  She picked it up and stared at it. Its shape, color, girth and cut reminded her of Michael.

  Slowly she glided it over her body, paying loving attention to all of
her special zones. She then lowered it toward her crotch and brushed it teasingly across her inner thighs, over her labia and clit. She could feel herself getting wetter, building up to the sweet tension.

  Slowly, she pushed it in and out of her vagina, angling it to hit her most pleasurable spots. The rhythmic thrill nearly brought her to orgasm. But she managed to hold back.

  While she pushed Mr. Black in and out of her with one hand, she stimulated her clit with the other. The combination of the two activities had her heart beating in double time, her tongue licking her quivering lips. She writhed with ecstatic thoughts of Michael fucking her with his own Mr. Black.

  She accelerated the plunging, the clitoris play, until she was huffing and puffing and wiggling wildly on her bed. And suddenly she came with gushing squirts and a hard, intense orgasm she had so often experienced with Michael.

  Trudy collapsed on the bed. Her fingers slipped from her pussy, as did the dildo, which fell to the floor. She lay there in the afterglow of her self-pleasuring for what seemed like forever, in the midst of a daydream she didn’t want to end.

  But it did and she reached over and picked up her phone from the nightstand. She rolled through her contacts and found the number and tapped it.

  “Hey doll,” Frankie answered half-asleep.

  “Hey.”

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah, yeah. I’m fine.”

  “That’s good.”

  “Frankie?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Thank you for today, you and Yvette. But you know I would never call Yvette this time of night unless I wanted a serious cursing out.”

  “You’re right about that.”

  “But thank you. And thank you for the goody-gift.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “You know, it’s so strange. It’s been nearly two years since I had some real flesh-and-blood dick between my legs.”

  “I can only imagine, girl. But then, maybe I can’t,” Frankie chuckled. Trudy chuckled too.

  “You know that trip you’re planning to the Dominican Republic?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Count me in.”

  Frankie smiled. “Doll, you’re counted in.”

  “But do me a favor.”

  “Anything, Doll.”

  “You know it’s been awhile for me, right?”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  “So when I get down there, don’t let me hurt anybody.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Cedric Whitfield stood in the doorway of Casa de Mita with open arms as Marcos parked the SUV. Two of Cedric’s favorite clients, Frankie and Yvette, jumped out of the vehicle before Marcos had time to open the doors for them. Trudy followed her girls with a happy hesitancy.

  Cedric, Frankie and Yvette hugged, kissed and greeted each other like cherished family and long-lost friends. And oh how pleased Cedric was to meet their friend and Casa de Mita newbie Trudy.

  “Welcome to you, Trudy,” he gushed, hugging her and sizing her up and down. Being from a family of big, beautiful black women, he was pleasingly astounded by Trudy’s resemblance to his baby sister Sybil back in Brooklyn. “My God,” he continued. “You could be her twin!”

  He ushered them inside and registered them.

  “Okay, ladies, off to your rooms for a well-deserved rest after that long flight from LA,” he admonished. “The pleasure awaiting you tonight, Trudy, can only be described as unimaginable!”

  Being individually pointed out made Trudy blush. Frankie and Yvette knowingly understood, as they led their nervous friend to the foyer’s spiral staircase.

  Everything seemed to move in slow motion for Trudy as she followed her friends up the stairs, affording her a view of House of John and why Casa de Mita was nicknamed so.

  It reminded her of every movie set bordello she’d witnessed in the dark of a theater, on a DVD and cable. The ornate spiral staircase, the sparkling chandelier in the parlor and the baby grand piano. Guests—Johns, male and female—lounging expectantly in the parlor and out on the patio, sipping on umbrella drinks and dark cocktails garnished with limes and pineapples, waiting for the music of the night.

  “I’ve never been inside a whorehouse before,” Trudy found herself whispering to no one in particular as her friends led her up to her room.

  “This is not a whorehouse,” Yvette said.

  “This is a house of love,” Frankie added, giving her a hug.

  That afternoon all three ladies slept soundly. Frankie’s dreams were filled with visions of being in Edgar’s arms again. Yvette slept like an athlete preparing for a marathon. Trudy’s sleep was dotted with memories of Michael and notions of what lay ahead without him.

  That night the mood in the parlor of Casa de Mita was as romantic as any other. The beautiful chandelier sparkled. The tables were all candlelit. And Fidel at his nightly post at the piano softly serenaded anxious clients and local men of pleasure.

  But of course this was all totally new to Trudy. She appeared in the entryway fresh and rested, bathed, perfumed, coiffed and nervous. Her outfit was modestly alluring, accentuating her classic Rubenesque figure.

  She glanced meekly around the room and with relief connected with Frankie’s approving stare at a table across the room.

  With a new smile, she walked toward her friend, through the subtle crowd. Fidel, the piano player, looked up and saw her. The sight of her almost made him forget the lyrics he was singing. Her curvaceous body, her lovely dimpled smile and her cherub beauty mesmerized him. She was heaven in heels. Trudy caught his admiring glances, which made him blush. She blushed too.

  “Well look at you!” Frankie grinned approvingly, pointing at the chair across from her. “Sit.”

  “Thanks. Where’s Yvette?”

  “She booked early.”

  “Oh.”

  “Don’t you look nice.”

  “Thanks,” Trudy giggled. “So do you.”

  “We old girls gotta try harder,” Frankie quipped, the vision of Gabrielle Union flashing in her head.

  “Wow,” Trudy said, awed and taking in her surroundings again. “This place is—”

  “Evocative?”

  “To say the least. Have to admit, Frankie. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing.”

  “You’re doing just fine. Cuba Libre?” Frankie got the attention of the handsome waiter hovering nearby.

  “What?”

  “Rum and Coke.”

  “Oh sure. That’s fine.”

  “Uno Cuba Libre, por favor,” Frankie requested flirtatiously.

  “Si, senora.” The waiter smiled at both the women, then headed toward the bar.

  “There was a time they used to call me senorita,” Frankie mused, eyeing the waiter’s cute bubble-butt. “So,” she recovered, “are you ready for your new adventure in paradise?”

  “I guess.”

  “Relax, baby. You’re going to meet some very nice men tonight and maybe even a very nice special man.”

  “My very special man is—”

  “Don’t dwell on the past, Doll. Prepare for the future. Speaking of which…” Frankie had looked up toward the entryway and smiled proudly. Trudy followed her glance. Standing in the doorway were two men, twin Adonises. Edgar was as handsome and sexy as ever. And the man standing with him was even hotter.

  When Edgar saw Frankie, his eyes lit up. He nudged his partner and led him toward Frankie’s table.

  “Mi amor,” he said, kissing Frankie’s hand and glancing at Frankie’s companion. “And you must be Trudy.”

  “Yes,” Trudy giggled as Edgar took her hand and kissed it. “Ladies, this is mi amigo Danté.”

  “Hola, Danté,” Frankie greeted with fluttering eyes, repeated by a giggling Trudy.

  “Hola,” Danté answered, openly admiring Trudy’s hefty breasts.

  “He does not speak English,” Edgar said as he and Danté sat. “But his lovemaking skills speak to all.”

  “Have they spoken to you, mi amo
r?” Frankie asked knowingly.

  “As a matter of fact they have, mi amor,” Edgar answered without missing a beat.

  “Tu eres muy bonita,” Danté said directly to Trudy, his clear midnight eyes staring into hers.

  “Gracias.” Trudy blushed, not knowing his exact words, but knowing she was being highly complimented.

  “Quiero singarte,” the handsome hunk continued.

  “What did he say?” Trudy begged Edgar with giddy anticipation.

  “He said that he would like to make wonderful love to you.”

  “Oh my God!” Trudy gasped.

  “Get a grip, Doll,” Frankie said, patting her friend’s hand. “That’s what you’re here for.”

  “I am, huh?” she said, taking a breath, inflating her breasts, bulging Danté’s eyes.

  “Exhale, Doll.”

  And she did. Danté extended his hand.

  “Vamos, mi amor,” he said. And Trudy obeyed, placing her hand in his, allowing him to pull her up from the table. As they crossed the parlor floor, Trudy looked back, intrigued and frightened, wanting and apprehensive, but giving Frankie a reassuring smile. She was ready to resume the art of living.

  And so was Frankie. It was so nice to be in the presence of Edgar again, in the world of his lovely expansiveness. Of course he and Danté had been together. Of course there was an Emmanuel in Edgar’s life, living in the home he bought with what he’d earned by giving so much pleasure to so many. Love indeed made the world go round. And Frankie decided right then and there that she could do something about keeping the ball of love spinning. She made a note to herself to sit down and have a talk with Cedric Whitfield before she returned to the States.

  * * * * *

  Trudy wasn’t quite sure what was happening. As they walked down the corridor toward her room, Danté smacked her on the behind every few steps and growled, “Tu culo grande es muy caliente.”

  When they reached her room, he snatched the key from her. He unlocked the door and swung it open, then took her hand and pulled her in with a dashing swirl. He slammed the door behind them.

  He turned her to him and took her face in his hands. He stared into her eyes and grinned hungrily. Trudy felt like a Happy Meal waiting to be devoured.

  He kissed her hard, filling her mouth with his thick tongue. The taste of cigarettes and brandy were repulsively delicious. It dizzied her and frightened her.