by Tiana Laveen
Rolling onto his back, he took her with him, drawing playful laughs from her. She straddled his thighs and leaned over him, her hair in disarray. He liked it that way, the pure natural beauty of it all. He looked deeply into her eyes as she rose up, situating herself just so. Catching her by the waist, he guided her down over his throbbing cock. They sighed in unison as she began to pump her hips, but then paused, not even half way down his shaft. He wished to feel all of her. His heart damn near pounded out of his chest as he filled from his head to his toes with desire and need—but he fought it, took his time, monitored the tempo and let her lead the way.
“You feel so good,” she murmured, throwing her head back in bliss.
Pumping his hips in a rocking motion, he nudged her down upon his chest, in a sensual embrace. Kissing her along her shoulder, he pumped faster and faster within her until her screams came out loud and in stereo.
“Shit!”
He bucked against her hard and strong, holding her head so he could crush her lips in an urgent kiss. She radiated with the deepest of affections as she pulled him in close, her pussy muscles pulsing in frantic spasms, pulling his great release. With a mighty gasp, they came at the same time. She clawed the pillow beneath his head, eyes tightly closed, and lovely, filthy words poured out of her mouth.
“Fuck…” he said breathlessly when the last of him filled the condom to the brim. He lay there panting, in a daze, staring up at the ceiling. His head throbbed, his face and chest were covered in sweat, and his heart beat like a spooked horse galloping away. And then they kissed … and kissed some more. No words, just caresses—a satisfied need and total fulfilment.
This time, he didn’t want to put on his clothes and go home. This time, he didn’t want to be alone, for the woman he’d just bedded to disappear like an afterthought… Chancellor didn’t want her to leave him, and he didn’t want to leave her. He needed things to be just as they were—them together, basking in the afterglow of their lovemaking.
This time, he wanted to stay…
CHAPTER FIVE
Your Anger Management Needs Anger Management…
He talks in his sleep…
Bailey propped her pillow up and held the monologue in her hand. After downing two more cups of tea in between making love to one of the most sensual men she’d ever had the pleasure to have inside her, she now looked at the sleeping fellow. Chancellor lay on his back, fast asleep beside her, one hairy leg flopped over the side of the bed. He had one arm draped over his equally hairy chest and the other shoved under his pillow. Most notable of all were his incoherent mumblings, uttered half-sentences that didn’t make much logical sense.
“It’s twin green peppers at the dugout. One has a big behind, make it leave.”
When she heard that, she leaned away from him and cupped her mouth to stifle the laughter.
What the hell is he talking about?
“I don’t like that kind of soap. You can’t dance to it…”
These strange utterings went on for quite some time, and she was practically sweating as she tried to keep her wits about her and not wake the poor man with a boisterous giggle. Bernie had finally made his way upstairs and seemed utterly astonished that the man from across the road whose lamp he’d demolished was in his home. He cocked his head to the left, then the right, as dogs who are swimming in a lake of bewilderment often do. She’d ordered him to stay right outside the bedroom door, knowing that if she allowed him inside, he’d try to work himself up onto the bed and wake up poor Chancellor who was obviously working through a thing or two.
The time ticked until she finally fell asleep, but it was short-lived. Her eyes shot open when the large, warm hands of a man traced her collarbone with a delicate touch. He claimed her lips in a kiss, surrounding her with heat, and her world became wet and sensual when he mounted her and slid inside her. Looking up into his eyes in the dark room, she could see the twinkle in his irises and the gleam of his white teeth. He had such a sincere smile—not pretentious or phony. It was genuine to the core, and it made him all the more alluring. Her back arched into his rhythmic thrusts, and she wrapped her legs around his torso, securing her ankles against his spine, as he rode her like a wave.
Gripping his chin, she brought him close for an intense, fiery kiss as her passion burst forth with an orgasm that spun her out of control. Moments later, he followed suit, until they were both exhausted, lying in a heap of hot flesh overlapping one another. She fell into a dream then in complete darkness, only to be awakened by her alarm clock. Her chest beat fast as she woke up in a daze, questioning if the evening had even happened at all. It had all seemed so dreamlike…
She looked over and saw that her bed was empty … and cold. She ran her hand on the pillow where Chancellor had slept, then rose from the bed and made her way out of her bedroom, down the steps.
She found Chancellor in her kitchen, fully dressed, noshing on a piece of toast. The smell of fresh hot coffee greeted her along with a plate of pancakes and scrambled eggs.
“Don’t get too excited. I picked up the Big Breakfast deal from McDonalds for you. I just plated it so it would look fancy,” he stated matter-of-factly as he swallowed the bread he’d been chewing on. She burst out laughing and rubbed on Bernie’s head, who was camped out with his new friend.
“Hey, it’s the thought that counts.” Reaching for a red mug, she poured the freshly brewed coffee to the rim and took a sip. “Boy, this is good. This hits the spot.”
“It’s from my house. It’s one of my favorites, from Bones Coffee Company. That’s the maple bacon flavor.”
“Wow, the name alone would’ve made me steer clear but I must tell you this is really good.”
“I know.” He winked in her direction. “Well, I know you have to get going and I have an appointment later on today, too.” He rounded the kitchen island, wrapped his arm around her waist, and brought her in for a kiss.
She couldn’t help but smile as her stomach flitted about; the man was making her weak at the damn knees.
“Appointment?” she finally stated, coming out from under her love-induced coma.
“Yeah, I have to see an Anger Management Therapist.” The man walked to her front door. “See you later.” He waved.
“Yes, we’ll talk soon.” She waved back as she watched him close the door behind him. For a few seconds, she could hear him walking away, his footsteps heavy. She turned towards her sink and brushed the curtains to the side, watching the snowflakes fall and collect on the sidewalk.
“Bernie, I don’t think it’s ever going to stop snowing. I think we’re trapped in a snow globe. This has to be one of the strangest winters, ever…”
Chancellor sat in the lodge near a man who smelled like moth balls and stale peppermint. He stretched his legs as he listened to the people there bitch and moan about their tattered lives, the reason why they stomped their girlfriend into the ground over some perceived injustice, or the cause of their husband’s face meeting a frying pan. Reason after reason was issued for the acts of brutality, such as the man who’d sat behind his office computer one day and slung it so hard across the room, it cracked a window. He couldn’t identify with these strange people. They were prone to violence, had no self-control, and though he’d had plenty of thoughts that were steeped in aggression, he’d not once assaulted a coworker, girlfriend, or ex-wife. Besides, his motto was simple: If you really wanted to show someone who was boss, you stuck it to them by messing with their pockets. Lawsuits, alimony, you name it…
“So, uh, Chancellor, what about you?” the counselor asked. The man’s face was so pale, his flesh looked practically translucent. Straggly limp light brown hair was combed forward, a thwarted effort to hold tight to the struggling, thin mane atop his head.
“What about me?” Chancellor shrugged.
“What’s your story?”
“Well, I’ve had some stress at work and because of that, I guess I took things too far. I said some stuff I shouldn’t have
said. Wait.” He held up his finger. “I take that back. I should have said them, just in a more diplomatic way.”
“So, you don’t think you have an anger problem like the rest of us?”
If I had hair like yours, I’d be angry too! I can see why you’re mad as hell! And you’re not going to take it anymore!
“Well, I don’t know.” Chancellor grimaced, then leaned back in his hard metal chair and crossed his ankles.
“Okay, well, from the paperwork you filled out…” The man grunted as he reached below his seat, pulled out an old manila folder, and licked his thumb as he skimmed through it. “You state that you had to take a mandatory ninety-day leave of absence due to what you stated in your entry form: ‘An unruly and unprofessional demeanor with colleagues and subordinates.’ That’s a pretty long time to be given to vacate your position. A stiff punishment, don’t you think?” The man with the super white flesh practically looked through him, his words and tone getting under his skin. “Did I misunderstand anything here?”
“How would I know what you understood and misunderstood? I’m not inside of your head.”
“Chancellor.” The guy frowned and his eyes looked weary, as if he’d already had enough. “You and I both know that a man in your position would not receive this sort of punishment if there wasn’t an underlying issue.”
“I never said that there wasn’t. What I am saying to you is that I don’t go around clocking women in the jaw. I have never served time in jail and I have never had any domestic violence issues! I am sitting here basically hearing horror stories, and so what then—I yelled at a bunch of slackers! Especially when compared to what has been going on here. This guy right here…” He pointed at a short man with a globular nose and deep-set eyes. “He said he was so angry about the way his sandwich was made at a fast food restaurant, he marched behind the counter and tried to shove the guy’s face in the fryer! So, excuse me if I don’t quite identify with what’s going on here.”
“He thinks he’s better than us.” A Black guy chuckled, and a few others followed suit.
“No, actually I don’t. But if you think I’m better than you, then I have no control over that.”
“Chancellor, I’ve seen guys like you before,” the counselor said calmly. He tucked the papers back into the folder and slid it back under his chair. “You have the whole world in the palm of your hand. You have money, which you undoubtedly worked hard to get.”
“You bet your ass I did.”
“You have a great job, nice clothes, and I’ll admit, you have the physical appearance that a lot of women go for. You’re tall, tanned, good looking. Your clothes are expensive. You speak sometimes with big words. You appear confident, too. The problem though is that you have a superiority complex, an elitist attitude, but that’s just a cover up for insecurity. Inside, you wish you could punch someone in the face, but you know it would cost you everything you worked so hard for. So, what do you do? You blow steam out of your mouth and you try to egg people into a verbal altercation. It gets your juices flowing.”
“What are you talking about—egg people into a verbal altercation? You think I want to fight?” He tossed up his hands and smirked. “That’s preposterous.”
“No, it’s true. You know exactly how you come across tonight in this meeting.” The man directed an accusatory finger in his direction. “I can tell, because each time you say something that has the potential to incense one of us, you smile.”
“You’re crazy.” Chancellor smirked and waved his hand at the man, dismissing him.
“See? There it is again. You are intelligent, and you know just what buttons to push. You’re argumentative. You are a very angry man, Mr. Hartmann, and you are the worst kind because instead of physically lashing out, which is bad enough, you dish out a slow, steady build of emotional, verbal, and mental abuse toward whomever you think has done you wrong or not met your expectations. You’re vengeful.”
All eyes were on him, and their heavy judgments, too.
“And you know all of this about me from the thirty minutes I’ve been sitting here? Wow, Josh.” He chuckled. “You missed your calling. You should’ve been a mind reader instead of a counselor. Maybe you should ship out to Vegas, get on stage and do a few mind fucks in between pulling rabbits, rainbow colored ribbons, and playing cards out your ass.” Chancellor rose to his feet and grabbed his coat. “I think I better go to someone for a one-on-one consultation, someone better equipped to assist me. You people have a good night.”
“Doesn’t matter where you go, Chancellor. The truth never changes. Men like you never run away from conflict because you love it too much, but you will divert and blame. In fact, I fully expect you to be the type of person who will complain about this group on social media, write bad reviews, things like that. You’ll do anything to try and hurt someone else, all because you can’t stand to face yourself for what you truly are.”
Chancellor had to laugh at the lunacy he was hearing. He stopped in his tracks and glared at the man.
“Wrong. Not my style. You’d have to actually mean something to me for me to waste my time with such trivial matters.”
“I don’t believe you—you’re just the type. You take your aggression out on people who can’t do anything about it because it makes you feel stronger and better. It’s not enough that you have more than most, because what you want most of all keeps evading you. But then what happens when you need another fix? You’ll have to degrade and demean someone else, too. And it becomes a vicious cycle. To you, the end justifies the means. In your mind, sure, maybe you could have been nicer, but you were right! If they can’t handle the bitter pills you prescribe, too damn bad!”
Chancellor threw up his hands and laughed again. “Not my circus, not my monkeys. I don’t make the rules, I just play by them.”
“And you resent the damn rules—you always have. You make rules and you follow ones that you hate. Anger is not your problem Chancellor. it’s sadness … hidden depression, things left unresolved. You’re miserable. Deep inside, there is something you need that you’re not getting, and instead of telling people what you need, you break them down … make them feel like shit because they aren’t what you want them to be, what you accused me of—a mind reader.” Chancellor slowly slid his arm into the sleeve of his coat, but kept his eye on the guy. “You need our help. You need to attend meetings to get to what is eating you.”
“I won’t be returning to this hellhole, so don’t hold your breath—but do invest in a toupee or just shave that shit off. I accept my reality, Josh. I suggest you also accept yours.” And then he walked out of the building…
The driveway was a thick sheet of ice. So much for the salt Bailey put down that morning. Placing pats of butter along the path would have rendered more promising results. Bernie stood on the stoop, overseeing her outdoor chores as if his glare enough was sufficient to assist her in her time of need. Trying to avoid slipping and busting her ass, she sprinkled more of the white stuff down along the ground, shaking it from her gloved fingertips as if she were feeding pigeons. Meanwhile, she prayed for a miracle so she wouldn’t be doing this for nothing. It was 8:01 P.M. Glancing across the way, she noticed Chancellor’s house was pitch black. They hadn’t spoken since that morning, but he did say then he had a full schedule. Moving along, she daydreamed about sliding into a hot bath with a glass of wine and listening to some Kenny G.
“All right, Bernie. I think that’ll do for now.” She huffed as she wrapped her scarf tighter around her neck and turned to head indoors.
“Yoo-hoo!!! Bailey!” She turned to see a woman about twenty-feet away. As she drew closer, she huffed hard, causing bellows of mist to roll from between her lips.
“Great. Here we go with this shit.” Standing with her hand on her hip, Bailey watched Winnie take tiny fast steps towards her, waddling like a duck.
“Hi, Bailey! You’re trying to get rid of this ice, huh?”
“Mmm hmmm, wanted to get it done b
efore the morning. I’ve got a long day ahead.” Bailey turned to walk away.
“Oh, wait! I was just out, taking my evening walk, and saw your pretty little self over here.” She smiled sweetly. Bernie growled. Winnie shot the dog a perplexed look, then set her sights upon Bailey once again, stuffed to the brim with a phony chipper mood—so sweet, it gave Bailey a toothache. “You know, I walk once in the morning and once at night, no matter the weather. It’s good for the circulation.”
“Mmmm hmmm, that’s good. Well, I really need to get—”
“I’ve noticed that Mr. Hartmann has been by your house quite a bit. You and he getting along well, huh?”
“Uh huh. It was nice seeing you, Winnie. I really need to go.” She started to walk up the driveway.
“Well, I wouldn’t be doing my civic duty if I didn’t warn you,” the little troll cried out. “You see, Hartmann is rude, Bailey. You seem like too nice of a girl to get wrapped up with the likes of him.” Bailey’s brow shot up as she sighed. “He has had women parading in and out of his house during the summer, too. Never the same woman, either. One day, it’s a tall blonde in her twenties with fake jugs out to here.” She turned to see the woman positioning her hands in front of her bosom. “The next week it’s a brunette with glasses, wearing a little short skirt. I’ve never seen him with a Black girl before though.” Winnie gave her the side eye, as if surprised by such a notion.
“Winnie, is there a point to all of this?” Bailey rolled her eyes.
“I just want you to be careful. You’re new here, and well, I’ve been here a long while and am more than happy to let you in on some things—things that could help you.”
“I’m sure you are…”
“He was married before, you know. She probably left him due to him cheating. I could definitely see that being a possibility. He barely talks to anyone, and he’s—”
“Okay, that’s enough. Stop. Right. There.” Bailey put her hand out like a stop sign. “I don’t need your red-light warnings, your alien Hartmann sightings, your old wise one Yoda-like insight, your lopsided opinion, your judgmental beliefs or your crazy viewpoints about Chancellor. None of that. Whoever comes in my yard—the front, the back or the side—is none of your concern. Whoever visits me to shovel my snow, have a friendly chat or more is absolutely none of your business, either. How you could think your behavior is even remotely appropriate is beyond me.”
