Fancy’s clit shaft became more engorged when Desmond’s lips wrapped around her mound and delicately sucked her juices. Fancy trembled.
Playfully forcing Desmond onto her king-sized pillow-top mattress, Fancy pulled the chord, parting her ceiling-to-floor patio curtains. Full moon. Lots of stars. The bright string of lights circling Lake Merritt was all the illumination they had, but that was enough brightness for Fancy to see how lovingly Desmond’s eyes sparkled. Fancy pressed the power button on her universal remote and romantic melodies resounded—“If this world were mine, I’d give you . . .”—throughout her condo.
Waltzing to her dance pole, Fancy untied the red velvet ribbon. At a snail’s pace her fingers tightened around the cool steel. Keeping her eyes fixed on Desmond, Fancy’s body freely swung to the side. Slinging her hair and swaying her hips, Fancy teased her breasts. Spreading her vaginal lips for Desmond to see Miss Kitty, Fancy made love to the pole as if she were sliding up and down on Desmond’s dick. Gripping the pole with both hands, Fancy flipped upside down, split her legs to form a T, and then gradually brought her thighs together.
“Damn, baby. You look so good. I didn’t know you could dance like that. I want you, Fancy,” Desmond said, propping his naked body against her pillows. His throbbing erection slid between his fingers as he massaged his dick up and down while keeping his eyes on Fancy.
The coolness of the pole excited Miss Kitty so Fancy gyrated, releasing a mild orgasm, reserving the urge for a massive climatic release. Letting her arms hang freely, Fancy cat-walked along the carpet until her knees and then her feet safely touched the floor. Like a cat, Fancy crawled toward the bed.
On hands and knees, Desmond eased behind Fancy, parted her legs, and flicked the tip of his tongue on the bulb of Fancy’s clit.
“I don’t want you like this. I want your big hard dick inside me,” Fancy gracefully protested as her elbows buckled and the rest of her body collapsed onto the floor. Lying on her back, Fancy looked up at the starlight reflecting off of Desmond’s face and moaned, “Make love to me, Desmond. Right here.” Fancy patted the carpet. “Right now.” She parted her legs wide.
Desmond’s head slid down her shaft, releasing a trail of pre-cum as he penetrated Fancy. Hugging Desmond, Fancy closed her eyes. Her hands cupped his ass, pulling him into her hips grinding toward his. Her pussy got wetter and hotter, so Fancy arched her back, thrusting her ass toward the floor, forcing Desmond to hit her spot. “Hold him right there. Don’t move.”
In tiny circles, Fancy slowly drained her fluids. Damn, that never-ending orgasm felt so stimulating she didn’t want the moment to end. Suddenly her legs started trembling uncontrollably so Fancy paused, surrendering control to Desmond’s rhythm.
Penetrating her, Desmond groaned, “It’s right there at the head, baby. Fancy, I want to cum inside you.” Desmond’s head moved deeper.
Fancy squeezed her muscles, releasing her sensational orgasm. “Cum with me, Dez. Cum with me now,” Fancy whispered.
“I’m cumming, Fancy. I’m cumming, damn, you feel so good.” Desmond’s entire body quivered as Fancy met his intensity, releasing her fluids. They squished in their sweat, meshing together their cum.
Desmond fell asleep on top of Fancy with his dick lingering inside her. Normally, Fancy would’ve taken a shower and gotten in bed but she wanted to have Desmond inside of her forever, or at least until sunrise.
CHAPTER 5
Day by day. Hour by hour. Minute by minute. Every single second. Life was a series of experiences strung on a timeline. None relivable. Some unforgettable. Each forgivable. Paths crossed, space to space, yet people seldom met, even when face-to-face. Like a puzzle missing a piece, a heart skipping a beat, no one’s life was complete.
The winter morning was bittersweet. Heavy rain poured in the Bay Area, pushing a cold front—near forty degrees—and unusual high winds that whistled unfamiliar tunes over Darius’s skylight, waking him throughout the night. Dark clouds shielded the sunrise, disguising the morning as night. Why did showers pour on funeral days, adding despair to an already depressing gathering? A unity of family and strangers, who ordinarily wouldn’t mingle in the same setting or see one another outside of holidays, reunited to console the grieving.
Darius lay in his colossal donut-shaped bed with his hands clasped behind his head. “I hate going to funerals. This is a waste of my time. Why am I even going?” Darius said, then answered himself. “If it weren’t for my dad, on the real I wouldn’t go.”
Brighter thoughts of meeting his dad’s family encouraged Darius to sit on the side of his bed. “I’m about as close to Darryl, Jr., as a stranger lying dead in the cemetery,” or his next-door neighbor, whom he rarely saw. Michael Baines, a real estate tycoon, had owned the home next to Darius’s Los Angeles house for years, and they’d met twice in passing. Darius wasn’t in L.A. today, he was in Oakland out of obligation, not respect, for his half brother’s burial but mainly to avoid dealing with his mother and Wellington.
How was Darius supposed to exhibit sadness for his brother when frankly he disliked Darryl, Jr.? They’d met for the first time when Darius was twenty. In that same setting, Darius’s mom had arranged for Darius to meet face-to-face his real dad, his other half brother Kevin, and his half sister Diamond, whom he’d hadn’t seen since. Unfamiliar family. If the truth be told, Darius really didn’t know any of them, including his father.
Shortly after meeting Darryl, Jr., Darius hired him, trying to help his brother—more like brotha—out with a steady, decent paying job, and just like Kevin, Darryl was a loser, a liar, and a thief. Maybe if Darius’s mother hadn’t lied for so many years, Darius could’ve helped the brother more and Darryl, Jr., would still be alive. Who knows, Darius’s positive influence throughout their childhood may have kept Darryl, Jr., from hanging on corners with narcotics dealers. Supposedly Darryl, Jr., wasn’t selling drugs, but being around that many runners so frequently made everyone suspicious, including their father.
Darius lumbered to his spacious bathroom, admired the gold fixtures, Jacuzzi tub, and stand-alone shower. Everything Darius owned was compliments of his mother’s generosity. She’d put his name on one of her bank accounts when he was born, and she’d given him his own platinum credit card when he turned thirteen. Moms. What would he do without her? What if his mother were the one lying in that coffin today? Or his dad? His real dad. Or Wellington? Darius blinked repeatedly, rinsing his tears down the black marbled drain. Wellington didn’t have to raise him.
“Lord, I’ve got to be more appreciative of my mother. I don’t know what I’d do without her. Please don’t ever take her from me,” Darius said, splashing warm then cold water on his face. His prayer wasn’t realistic but what was the point of asking God, the man who walked on water, a miracle maker, for ordinary treatment. Oh, damn. What if he’d indirectly just asked God to take him first? For clarification, Darius added, “Lord, please don’t take me first. I know how You are so I thought I’d better make myself clear.” Darius brushed his teeth then stepped into the shower. Hot steamy water swarmed the enclosure like a sauna.
Fancy. “Hmm, what’s Ladycat doing?” Was she thinking about him? Waking up to some other man? Byron? Opening the door, a trail of water dripped from his body as Darius picked up the cordless phone lying on his nightstand. When Fancy answered, he said, “Ladycat, what’s up? I sensed I was on your mind so I decided to call.”
“Hey, Darius,” Fancy replied. “I was just on my way out.”
“On your way to work, huh,” Darius commented. “That’s good.”
“I wish. I don’t have a job yet. Anyway, I gotta go. You wanna get together later?”
The smile in Fancy’s voice resonated through the receiver. Darius smiled, too. “Yeah, that’s cool. Actually I could use some cheering up. I’m on my way to my brother’s funeral.”
“Aw, Darius. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”
“I’ll be all right. I’ll call you later. ’Bye, Lady
cat.” Maybe he could get some sympathy pussy from Fancy later.
Darius hung up then tossed the phone on his bed. The sultry sound of Fancy’s voice made him feel better. Even though Fancy didn’t know him or his brother, she seemed to care. Since his mother had turned on him, and Ashlee wasn’t communicating with him, Darius could use Ladycat as a lover and a friend. He’d given Fancy that nickname the moment he saw her gracefully prowling the room collecting sponsorship checks at Byron’s fundraiser.
Life was great when things went well. Like his high school graduation when his mom bought his first Rolex or the days when Ma Dear cheered for him at his basketball games. Basketball. “Some day soon, boy-ie.” Darius daydreamed about playing in the league but his only wish today was that his half brother Kevin didn’t show up at the funeral. “If he shows his face, I’ma have the cops arrest his ass for laundering my money,” Darius said, talking to himself. Kevin had created more drama in Darius’s life than all the women gelled together.
Posing in his three-way mirror, Darius admired his black single-button suit. He gathered his locks into a ponytail and eased on his sunglasses to hide his contrived expressions of remorse. “Good.” When Darius stepped outside, the limousine was parked in his circular driveway.
Scanning the lawn and easing into the car, Darius smirked, recalling his unforgettable adventure with Kimberly. “Bitch! Ciara. Giving Kimberly a lead role without my permission.” Knowing the amount lead actresses were paid, Kimberly would have more money than him. Would Kimberly continue fucking him at every request?
“Forget about Kimberly and focus on Fancy,” Darius said, staring out the window.
“Excuse me, sir, but I didn’t hear you,” the driver said.
“Females, man. I’m just talking out loud.”
This was possibly Darius’s last chauffeured ride for a while so he’d use the driver all day and throughout the night and worry about paying the bill later. At least he’d have the car long enough to impress Fancy and hit it. To make certain Fancy gave up the pussy tonight, Darius decided to splurge beyond measure. After the funeral, he’d need to have more than his dick sucked. Massaging his erection, Darius imagined fucking Fancy in every hole possible, including her ears.
The driver doubled-parked in front of Whitted-Williams Funeral Home. “Hey, man, I’m gon’ need you for the rest of the day and night. I’ll call you on my cell when I’m ready. And when I say I’m ready, I’m ready, so wait right here.”
Entering the empty parlor, Darius stopped in the doorway. “I must be in the wrong place.” There were six people including himself. Squinting through his dark shades, Darius recognized Darryl Senior, and his wife, Diamond, and Kevin seated in the front row of aligned folding chairs. Darius should’ve known Kevin would be sitting next to their father, sucking up. And there was a homeless lady sitting in the back, brushing a matted wig.
Stretching his arm, Darius bent his elbow then glanced at his watch. “Maybe I have the wrong time. Surely this can’t be everybody.” Since the service hadn’t started and Darius expected more people to arrive, he sat in the last row behind the strange woman. Less time to pretend he was distraught over someone shooting his half brother in the head.
Turning to him, the homeless woman stared at Darius, then whispered in an eerie tone, “There is death all around you.”
Had Darius stepped into a live horror scene? If he ran outside, would the limo driver be dead or gone? Removing his glasses, belligerently Darius eyed the queer woman. A dripping-wet sweater draped her shoulders. A shopping bag stuffed with newspapers and a soggy loaf of French bread rested on the folding chair beside her. What the heck was she going to do after grooming that wig?
Cynically she stared back so Darius said, “Of course, lady, in case you haven’t noticed, this is a funeral parlor.”
Leaning her flabby arm over the back of her chair, she moved closer to him then whispered, “I know that. But everything around you is dying slowly, even your spirit.”
Darius slid his plaid cushioned chair back two feet and said, “You don’t know me,” then stood.
“Your mother can’t always fight your battles like you expect her to. It’s time you accept responsibility for your actions and become the man your grandmother envisioned you’d become.”
Whoa. The strength in Darius’s legs escaped slowly, collapsing him back into the green chair. If he suddenly had to run away to save his life, he couldn’t. This homeless woman had captured his attention. Darius mumbled, “How do you know Ma Dear?”
“She’s sitting beside you. She’s always beside you.”
Gazing toward the cushion, the indention was wide. Blinking, Darius looked at the homeless woman. She closed her eyes then quietly said, “Only one of those babies is yours. But the son that is yours, soon after he is born, he will die. So will one of your parents. Next year. Death follows you.” She opened her eyes.
“Gee, thanks lady.” Darius stood again.
“Right now you are sad but, like when you were a child, you will find happiness again. And you will remarry but not the woman you think you want. For the first time in your life you will genuinely fall in love and you will marry the woman you fall in love with. But before that happens you will suffer. Tremendously.”
Waving his hand at the floor, Darius said, “I’m here for my brother’s funeral. Let me get away from you. I’ve heard enough of your foolishness, old woman.”
The homeless woman replied, “I may be foolish.”
Darius continued walking toward the front, near his family. Midway down the aisle he heard her say, “But I’m not broke. Good-bye, Darius.” When Darius turned to see her face once more, she was gone.
“Hey, son,” Darryl Senior said. “Darius, come sit next to me. Kevin, move over one seat,” their dad said, ushering Kevin to the middle of the row.
Darryl Senior leaned his head on Darius’s shoulder and started crying. What was Darius supposed to do? Hug his dad? Pat his back? Nothing? The only grown man Darius had seen shed tears was Wellington. Had Wellington pretended? Was Darryl Senior faking? Darius handed his dad a monogrammed handkerchief with the initials DL inscribed for Darius’s Law. Darius made the rules, he didn’t follow them.
“You have no idea what it’s like to lose your firstborn. Darryl Junior may have not been perfect but he was mine. Just like you and Diamond and Kevin. Why would anyone kill my son?” Darryl Senior sobbed heavily.
Forcing tears, Darius wrapped his arm around his father’s shoulder. Tears streamed down his face onto his black suit. Leaning over his father, Kevin rubbed Darius’s back. Swiftly Darius shifted his eyes, squinted at Kevin, and mouthed, “Don’t you ever touch me again, you thief.”
Hunching his shoulders, Kevin lip-synced, “Aw, come on, brother. Forgive me. Please.”
Darius’s body tensed as he silently replied, “Forgive you? Like, hell. I’ma whup your ass if you don’t give me back my money.”
“But—” Kevin stopped talking when their father stared at him.
Some guy dressed in a cream-colored robe entered the room and stood behind a podium. Darius and seemingly no one else knew this person. Darryl Junior had a complete stranger conducting his ceremony? The funeral was nothing like when Ma Dear died. There was standing room only then. Pastor Tellings, who’d known Ma Dear for years, had preached a brief but powerful sermon. Darius never sang “I Won’t Complain” at Ma Dear’s funeral because before he opened his mouth, he passed out. Maybe he could sing the song for his half brother. Who was that strange woman? Darius wondered. Then her voice echoed in his mind, “There is death all around you. Death follows you.”
Darius’s legs lifted him to his feet. His mouth opened as he faced his family and began singing.
His dad cried, nodding with approval. Kevin’s eyes turned red and watery. Maybe Darius should forgive Kevin because when Darius’s day came to lie in a coffin nothing would matter more than how people remembered him. His women. His money. His career.
Im
mediately after Darius stopped singing, the pastor—if he was a pastor—asked, “Would anyone like to say a few words?”
Clearing his throat, Darryl Senior stood and said, “Um,” I would.” He paused.
Kevin bellowed from his gut, “Take your time, Dad.”
Ass kisser, Darius thought.
“As my son’s spirit has ascended into heaven, I would like for everyone to remember Darryl Junior as a man with a childlike nature, who died trying. Trying to fit in. Trying to love others. Trying to find himself. His purpose in life. Trying to be accepted even in situations where he knew people didn’t like him. Laughing when there was nothing to laugh about, all along crying out for help on the inside. Darryl Junior gave his all. His last. And a little too late, tried to follow in Darius’s footsteps. Darius, you have no idea how much Darryl Junior admired you. Darryl praised your success all the time in our presence. I admire and love you, too, son.” Darryl Senior’s tears forcefully choked the remaining words out of his throat. “Those drug dealers on the corner didn’t kill my son. Darryl Junior’s desperate desire to belong to a group that loved him, killed him. We should’ve been that group. I failed my son because I could’ve been that group. Let Darryl J be an example and let us”—he spread his arms wide—“starting right here, right now, not allow the lack of love in this family to kill another member.”
Hurrying to uphold his father’s weakening body, Darius placed his dad’s arm over his shoulder and helped him to the nearest seat, which required Kevin to move over again.
“I love you, Dad,” Darius whispered drying his father’s tears then his own.
The guy in the robe read the eulogy that Darryl Junior’s mother handed him. Strange, but she was expressionless during the entire service. Darius wondered how his mother would react if he were the one dead. Hopefully, not like Darryl Junior’s mom. Why wasn’t she crying? Something was definitely wrong between his father and her but now wasn’t the time to probe.
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