Careful What You Click For

by Mary B. Morrison

  “We’ll give the pie a moment to cool off and the ice cream to thaw.” Langston pulled out a chair, sat, then said, “Thanks for coming. Have a seat, man,” then told Jordan, “You can quiz him and compare notes.”

  As she scanned the table, Jordan’s thoughts probably aligned with Kingston’s. Who else is coming?

  “You know you want to ask,” Langston told Jordan.

  A humph sound escaped Jordan’s lips.

  Kingston sat to the left of Jordan. Langston was to her right and directly across from Kingston. The awkward situation made Kingston uncomfortable. He’d come for answers, not questions.

  Small talk ensued. Langston dished up four slices of pie and an equal number of scoops of ice cream for each setting. Tight-lipped. Jordan tilted her head sideways, shifted her eyes from Langston to the empty seat.

  “Oh,” he said, smiling. “That’s for the less fortunate. Keeps me grounded. Some people don’t know when they’ll eat again.”

  “Kingston isn’t going to be here all night. Just ask him your questions, babe,” Langston insisted.

  “How, and how well, do you know Langston?” Jordan twirled her spoon into her ice cream.

  “Am I interrupting?” Kingston asked, delaying a response.

  Langston replied, “After you answer, you’re free to go, man. Excuse me. I have to use the restroom.”

  Kingston was ready to leave now. “Look, Jordan. I hadn’t seen or heard Langston’s name since third grade, until you mentioned him by name at the bar. We attended elementary school together. That’s it.”

  A text registered from Langston: Let me take Jordan upstairs and put her to sleep. Hang out in my media room. When I’m done with her, I got you. We’re grown now. Bisexual men don’t have to choose sides.

  Wow. Kingston never thought of it that way. But he knew Monet would never knowingly accept his sexing her, Theodore, Langston, and other random guys.

  “That’s what Langston said.” Jordan whispered, “I like him. Since you’re here, what do you think? Should I give in and have sex with him?”

  “Let me put it this way,” Kingston told her. “Women hold out. Men don’t. If it’s not you, it’ll be someone else. That’s for sure. Whatever you decide, make sure you use protection.”

  If Langston were a scammer, he wasn’t in search of pussy from Jordan. It was something more valuable. But Kingston was certain that Jordan had performed a thorough background investigation and didn’t require his support.

  Jordan smiled at Langston as he entered the room.

  Kingston wanted to open up to Langston, but he might lose Jordan’s friendship if he stayed.

  Langston kissed Jordan again. “Missed you, baby. You’re so sexy. Mind and body,” he said, then reclaimed his seat. “Isn’t she lovely, man?”

  “I’ma get out of the way,” Kingston said, then texted Langston, My dick is hungry for your ass. Hurry up.

  The fourth setting was for a mutual friend, but after seeing you, I uninvited him. Langston’s text engaged Kingston’s curiosity. Was it a woman? Or a man?

  “Yeah, do that. And I’ma take my dessert upstairs,” Langston replied, then discreetly rubbed his foot against Kingston’s leg underneath the table.

  Reaching for Jordan’s hand, Langston said, “Let yourself out, man. Thanks for stopping by on such short notice and clearing things up for my lady.”

  CHAPTER 37

  Kingston

  A commercial flight was preferred today, since he’d traveled solo. Landing at BWI, Kingston retrieved his carry-on from the overhead compartment. Settling into the back of a reserved Town Car, he reflected on last night, texting Langston, Who was the uninvited guest?

  Sex with Langston was total body orgasmic! Oh, how both of them had grown in many ways. Torn between two lovers—Langston and Theodore—Kingston’s departure from Atlanta was needed to regroup, but he could hardly wait to let Theodore spoil him.

  Getting out of the car, Kingston was pleased his wife’s car was in the driveway. He pressed his thumbprint again the keypad, then entered the front door.

  “Baby, I’m home!” Kingston shouted, dropping his black leather bag at his feet.

  Designer head-to-toe Monet strutted into the living room, sporting a fitted dress. The hem stopped well above her knees. Open-toe stilettos drew his eyes to her shiny legs. Her purse dangled from her forearm. Ponytail was perched high and hung low. Dark sunglasses hid her eyes.

  “Oh, hey, Kingston. Good you’re here. I’ll tell Trinity you’re picking up the girls from school at three o’clock. Dinner is prepped and in the fridge. Let it sit out for thirty minutes, then put it in the oven on three hundred fifty for forty. Bedtime is eight sharp.”

  His wife smelled sweet and rosy. Her red lips were glossy. Where was she going at ten in the morning dressed like that? He’d taken the early flight to spend the day with her before she’d get the girls.

  “You look nice,” he said politely, yet pissed, looking her down, then up.

  Monet smiled cheerfully, placed her hand on her hip. “Thanks.”

  She stepped to the right. Kingston moved to his left. Monet shifted in the opposite direction; Kingston did the same.

  Deepening his voice, he questioned her with authority. “I asked you, where are you going?”

  “No, you didn’t,” she answered boldly.

  “Well, I’m asking now.” Kingston moved closer to his wife.

  Calmly Monet replied, “Out.”

  “Out where?” Monet Royale was still a married woman and he had the right to demand answers.

  “I’m not doing this with you, Kingston. You show up here, acting like you didn’t ignore my texts, hang up on me, and abandon your family. Go back to wherever you came from. I’m running late. I have to go.” Monet attempted once more to exit through the front door.

  Kingston refused to allow her to leave. All of what she complained about was in the past. He’d asked the question, a basic one that deserved a response. It didn’t matter what she thought, he was here and she wasn’t leaving.

  “What the fuck do you want?!” Monet yelled.

  “You, baby,” he said, leaning down for a kiss.

  For the first time, Monet stepped back. “I’m finally getting accustomed to your not being here, and now you want to act as though you never left and you expect me to be excited to see you. When you played ball, I understood. But this right here, Kingston. . . move.”

  Monet shoved him, but he didn’t budge. She wasn’t leaving him. He grabbed his wife by the arm, snatched her purse, then threw it to the floor. “I know what you need,” he said. “Let’s go to the bedroom.”

  He never imagined his wife cheating on him. But he was not stupid. Nor was he allowing her to walk out of their house—the house he paid for—to go screw another man.

  Monet removed his hand from her bicep, picked up her purse. Staring at him, she didn’t respond.

  Kingston grabbed the handle and pulled the bag away from her. “I mean it, Monet. You’re not going anywhere. If you want to leave, take off all of your clothes, leave my car, and get out.”

  His strategy to get his wife naked failed miserably when she politely responded, “I’m wearing my half.” Monet eased her bag out of his hand.

  Kingston refused to let his wife walk out the door. “We need to talk.”

  “I don’t want to talk,” she said quickly.

  “Then listen to me,” Kingston stated. “It’s only been a few months. I almost have everything in place.”

  Monet repeatedly punched him in the chest, then screamed, “If you want a divorce, be a man about it! Don’t string me along! You want me to respect you? Miss you? Love you? I’ve been taking care of our girls while you do what in Atlanta? Huh? What, Kingston? You promised the girls more gifts. And you’re too busy to send them? Showing up unannounced doesn’t make you a father.” Monet cried.

  Damn. Lilly forgot to send the other packages to his girls. He’d deal with her later. Or perhaps he nee
ded to thank her. The brand he’d requested was no longer popular with African Americans.

  This was the moment Kingston had waited for. Seeing his wife break down, Kingston thought, Now I know she cares. It was his job to build her back up. The way he wanted. Moving closer to his wife, he put his arms around her, leaned her head on his chest, then said, “Baby, you’re right. I’m sorry. Tell me what you need me to do.”

  Leading his wife to the bedroom, Kingston dried her tears. He knew what he needed to do to get his wife back to a submissive state.

  “Let’s take a shower and let me show how much I love and miss you.” He kissed her lips, her forehead, her cheeks, her neck, then led her to the bathroom. Unzipping her dress, he let it fall to the floor.

  Kingston started the water to fill up the Jacuzzi tub. He removed his clothes, neatly folded them, then placed them in the laundry room. Monet frowned at him as she removed her shoes, leaving them in the middle of the bathroom floor.

  “Let me show you something that I bought for you,” Monet said. “It’s a surprise.” Exiting the bathroom, she wiggled her ass.

  “That’s my baby.” Kingston added lavender, eucalyptus, and baby oil to the warm water. Getting into the tub, he relaxed, hoping that his wife had a really sexy surprise for him when she returned.

  Kingston began stroking himself to get ready for Monet. His dick didn’t get hard. Recalling last night’s events with Langston, he almost came.

  He called out, “Monet! Baby, what’s taking so long?” There was no answer. If he ejaculated, he probably wouldn’t be able to recover quickly. He waited a few more minutes, then called his wife’s name again. There was no answer. Getting out of the tub, Kingston wrapped a large brown towel around his waist.

  He searched the bedroom walk-in closet, but his wife wasn’t there. Kingston trailed water to the living room. Monet’s purse was where they’d left it. Opening the front door, he saw his wife’s car was gone. Picking up her pocketbook, he found it was empty.

  Retrieving his cell to call his travel agent to book him on a late flight back to Atlanta, Kingston read the response from Langston: My uninvited guest was my male partner. I think you’ll like him. Will introduce you soon. Cheers.

  Whoa. Langston had loose, low-hanging balls that swung both ways. Kingston had to find a way to let Jordan know.

  If Monet wanted to be with another man that badly, let that nigga take care of her.

  Kingston sat on the sofa, signed into VirginsSeekingVirgins in hopes of finding someone in the area to help release his frustration.

  CHAPTER 38

  Victoria

  “You so sexy,” Heavenly told Victoria, reclining in the passenger seat of her car. “When I graduate, get a real job, make lots of money like you, I’ma make you my wife.”

  Typically, what he’d uttered warranted a verbal thrashing. Curiosity prompted her inquiry. “What do you consider a real job?” Victoria enjoyed his infectious energy, bulging muscles, amazing smile, transparency, and good dick.

  It wasn’t seven, eight, or nine inches long. More like a stiff six and a half. And Heavenly was an eager and fast learner. He had an extra inch of introverted dick that she could pull out of him. But Victoria didn’t think he’d be around for the six months that it’d take her to complete the painless process.

  “An AI developer,” he said confidently.

  Humph. Artificial intelligence, when his major is communication? It was a common and consistent concern with men; when they saw how she balled, they often superficially elevated themselves to her status in some sort of way.

  Victoria turned off of Peachtree Road, onto West Paces Ferry Road Northwest. “Ever considered real estate investments?”

  Heavenly laughed, then said, “I’m smart, but I’m not smart like you. I’d need two cougars to make that happen. Maybe three.”

  “Or perhaps the right one.” Victoria reduced her speed to twenty miles per hour.

  His voice became melancholy. “I didn’t mean literally. What I meant was, I don’t have that kind of money. I apologize if I offended you.”

  Heavenly, like most men, was confused. But he wasn’t disrespectful, which made Victoria appreciate him more. “Why don’t I turn this tour into a lesson for you. The first thing you’re going to do when investing is check the foreclosure list and property tax sales with the county and the bank. Then I’m going to take you to an auction. The most important thing you need to do is research, drive the neighborhood. It’s good to know where the cell towers are located, as well as who the developer is.”

  Success in any field required self, online, and textbook education, passion, and a greater humanitarian purpose. Victoria knew she wasn’t perfect, but she’d always be a child of God. She thought about Tracy and the spell she’d cast upon her and felt no remorse. Even the Bible stated an “eye for an eye.” As long as Heavenly didn’t cross her, she was willing to help make him independently rich.

  “That makes sense. People want to make sure they have great reception,” he said, nodding.

  Okay, maybe not independently rich, she thought.

  “Wrong. Cell towers are believed to cause cancer, and too many of them in a concentrated area lowers property values,” Victoria explained.

  “Dang. I never knew that.” He stared at her with loving eyes. “I’m serious about marrying you. You’re intelligent. You know that?”

  Driving through an upscale area of Buckhead, Victoria pointed out various houses. “How much do you think that property is worth?” she asked him.

  “Well, it’s pretty big. I guess it’s about one-point-five million dollars.”

  “That’s a good guess,” she said to encourage him. “What if I were to tell you it sold for four-point-one million before going on the market?” She knew, because she’d brokered the deal.

  “You mean Buckhead has some kind of secret ole boy network?” he asked.

  “It’s all about who you know. Brokers and investors rule Buckhead. It’s ninety percent white. Ten percent black.”

  Heavenly shook his head, said, “I thought Atlanta was primarily black,” then he massaged her inner thigh. “I might not know much about houses, but I’ve learned a lot about you. I’m never going to let you go.”

  His immaturity and lack of understanding of women blended together in an attractive kind of way. He seemed more impressed than calculating. A call registered from Jordan.

  Answering on the car’s Bluetooth, Victoria said, “Can I call you back later?”

  Unexpectedly, Heavenly cheerfully said, “She’s busy right now.”

  Parking her car curbside, Victoria told him, “Get out.” She pressed a button and the wing doors lifted like an Eagle taking flight.

  “What? I was joking,” he protested.

  “Well, I’m not. Out. Now,” Victoria demanded. She waited, then lowered the doors.

  “Damn, he’d better act right before you cast a spell on his ass,” Jordan said, laughing.

  “He’ll be okay. I’m not going to abandon him in Buckhead. Especially now that he knows the population ratio. And white people around here will call the police on him in a nanosecond.”

  Heavenly paced back and forth alongside her car.

  “Trust me, I know the stats all over Georgia. Anyway, I wanted to give you the deets on Langston Derby and Kingston Royale before our meetup after church tomorrow.”

  “Okay, girl. Let me get this fine-ass man back in my car. He’s staring in my window. Somebody probably already called the cops. Text me first. Bye.” Victoria reopened the doors.

  “I see I can’t even play with you,” Heavenly complained.

  Arguing with a man his age was pointless. If he announced his presence again without her permission while she was on a call, he’d have to get himself a new cougar. Driving along a side street, Victoria said, “Just pay attention to the neighborhood first, then hone in on the pockets. Buckhead is affluent. Where you don’t want to invest is Lindberg. The ROI, that’s ‘return on inv
estment,’ is minimal. Those are the things you educate yourself on.

  “If we’re still together your senior year, I’ll gift you a fixer-upper. And teach you how to flip.”

  “Oh, shit! For real? You would do that for me? For real? Wow! First you pay my tuition. Now you’re going to teach me how to make money. Man, this is unbelievable, and you’re beautiful and you’re intelligent and you’re sexy. I’m going to pay you back with interest. I’m going to call you my lucky charm. Can we go back to your house? I want to eat your pussy until you fall asleep.”

  Or until he fell asleep. Victoria definitely could benefit from a great orgasm. And although Willy was coming over later, the good Lord knew her needs. Merging onto Interstate 75, Victoria headed home.

  Heavenly stood outside her car door, followed her into the house, went straight to the bathroom, then removed his clothes. Staring at his tightly curled pubic hairs, Victoria thought, Thank You, Jesus, I almost forgot.

  “Let me clipper shave that,” she said, pointing below his navel.

  “I’ve never had that done. Will it hurt?” he questioned, frowning.

  Victoria shook her head, opened the bottom drawer, removed the clippers and a clear glass bowl. She brushed between the grooves to make sure there were no long straight strands left over from Willy. She placed a towel on the comforter. “I’m going to need you to lay right here on the bed for me.”

  Setting the bowl beside Heavenly, she powered on the cordless clippers, then gently shaved his pubic area, upper inner thighs, and his balls. Carefully collecting every clump of hair, she rolled them together in her palms, then dropped them in the dish.

  “Get in the tub. I’ll be back.” Hurrying to her voodoo room, Victoria set the bowl on the altar, closed the door, then returned to the bathroom.

  With a wide smile Heavenly asked, “Wait. Let me see my hairs first.”

  “Focus on how bigger and prettier your dick is.” Victoria firmly stroked his shaft.

  Heavenly propped his fists on his hips, stared at his erection. “Damn, thanks. I am bigger.” He picked up a vibrator, said, “This is for you,” and got in the shower.