“Thanks. I needed to hear that.” I was grateful for my accomplishments but I’d never celebrated them or myself. Starting now, I was making myself a priority.
“If it’s any consolation, honey, most people are in messed up relationships. Either they ain’t fucking at all, the sex is mediocre at best, or they’re cheating. Men are acting like women. The women want to be men. Do like me. I just fuck my way in and out of my problems. Having a good orgasm makes you feel better about everything, not everybody, honey. Bye, bitch.”
I watched Brandon strut into the bank. His broad shoulders complemented his slender muscular frame. His clothes were designed by one person; tailored by another. Neon-lime was his favorite color. His radiant glowing skin, high butt cheeks and cheekbones, made women take a second look. Brandon’s nails were always manicured to perfection. Hair never looked like it needed to be cut. He was a you-only-live-once kind of guy.
Brandon was right. Out of all the couples I knew, only a few seemed truly in love. I wanted to be in that minority. I wanted a man who sincerely loved me. I exhaled.
Was promiscuity the new normal nowadays?
CHAPTER 6
Blake
Not ready to go home to an empty house, I stopped in Buckhead at Posh Nails for a manicure by my favorite technician, Amy. While she pampered my hands, Anna massaged my legs and feet with hot stones. After they were done, I sat in the plush tan leather chair checking my Facebook and Instagram pages.
Sandara, my youngest daughter, had posted a video. She was holding up a pair of shoes. Lawd, I’d better connect my Bluetooth before listening to this. I tapped my screen and heard, “Raymond, these are too small! While you rollin’ in yo’ new ride, your son needs a new pair of shoes, ho. Size ten, ho!” She flashed five fingers twice.
I shook my head at how she’d handled the situation but she was right. Early birthday wishes were posted on my page from my siblings. Ruby, Carol, Peter, Walter, Teresa, Kevin, and Kim stated they wished they could be with me tomorrow. I became sad. Growing up, no matter how much we argued, we loved one another. I missed them. We’d all moved from our hometown of Charlotte but I was the only one living in Atlanta.
I started to open my work e-mail account. I locked my cell, dropped it in my purse. “Thanks, guys. See you in two weeks.”
Getting in my car I unwrapped Brandon’s gift. OMG! A pink Rock-Chick? One end was a G-spot stimulator. The opposite tip was a clit stimulator. Each time I pressed the button the buzzing got stronger. I touched it again and the toy started pulsating.
“This thing can’t be safe to use while driving,” I said, continuously pressing the button. “Lawd, how many speeds does this thing have? I can see myself crashing while having an orgasm.” How do I turn it off? Forget it. I tossed it in my purse, then talked a text message to Brandon. LOL Thank You!
I circled Lenox Square Mall and Phipps Plaza several times until I was tired, then I headed home. The black BMW 750i was in my driveway. When I opened the front door, his cheap cologne greeted me. He didn’t.
Fortune was lounging on my sofa, drinking a beer, watching the game. “You ask Jeremy for those tickets? You know I want to take you to the Affordable Old School concert at Wolf Creek.”
My stomach churned making me want to vomit. I picked up the remote, turned off the television. Staring at Fortune, softly I said, “Get off of my sofa and get the hell out of my house.” Then I yelled, “Now!”
He stood, opened his mouth. I held up my hand, shook my head, then told him, “I’ll have your clothes delivered wherever you’d like. But right now, you need to leave. And never come back.”
“Blake—”
“I’m serious. Get out of my house.”
He went upstairs, returned with his keys. Slowly, he removed my house key, handed it to me.
I shook my head. “I don’t need it.” I dialed a locksmith. “Can you send someone to rekey my entire house right now?” I paused, then replied, “Great,” giving them my address.
Fortune stared at me. He took baby steps toward the door, placed his hand on the knob. His eyes drooped, then his head hung as he opened the door. Hesitantly, he crossed the threshold. He stared at me, closed the door. I watched the latch turn as he locked it with his key.
The first thing I did was go to the kitchen, get a metal bucket, and put my champagne on ice. Next, I went upstairs, changed the cotton linen on my king-size bed to a new set of white satin sheets, pillowcases, and Euro shams. I stuffed the white duvet with a white down feather comforter, then opened two bags of clean cotton potpourri. I spritzed my bathroom with the calming fragrance of home sweet home.
The doorbell rang. Trotting downstairs, I welcomed in the locksmith, gave him instructions on rekeying every lock throughout my home. While he did his job, I sat on my sofa. Soon as he left, I lit a few candles, drew my bathwater, undressed, stepped into my sunken tub, leaned back, and relaxed.
For Blake Crystal, a self-centered, unapologetic lifestyle was starting right now.
CHAPTER 7
Alexis
The parking lot at Pin Ups strip club was packed.
A dozen premiere reserve spots were on the first row. Twenty dollars to occupy a space in the front. Ten in the back behind the building. Either way everybody had to park their own shit. Big Z moved one of the orange cones. I zoomed in my convertible, raised the top. Getting out of my car, I grabbed my pink Michael Kors bag, then gave Big Z a hug.
“What’s up, Alexis? You looking fresh as always. When you gonna make that happen?” Big Z asked, holding my hand.
He’d been trying four months to get Chanel and me to double-dip on his dick. I couldn’t blame him for wanting to taste my chocolate-cherry-colored punany. He’d have to fall in a line that extended down the block and round the corner. Long as he kept giving me VIP for free, I’d keep stringing his anxious ass along. Walking toward the flashing sign with the club’s name in neon lights, I told Z, “I got you.”
“Yeah, but when?”
I blew him a kiss. “When the time is right. I have to get my gurl to say yes.” Opening the door, the cashier motioned for me to enter the club. She’d stopped hitting me up for the ten-dollar cover after I started dating Chanel.
The pool table room on the other side of black metal bars facing the entrance had a few guys hitting balls. There were female dancers grinding on the laps of men and women for twenty dollars a song. I never lingered in there mainly because no one inside that area could see any parts of the stage.
I made my way to the bar, stood at the end watching two performers. The girls here were not lazy like some I’d seen at Magic City or laid back like the ones at Strokers. The Pin Ups were in full effect every night.
“Here you go, sweetheart,” the mixologist said, handing me a mai tai. Peaches didn’t need to ask if I wanted my usual. I never deviated from this drink at this club.
“Thanks.” The tab was eight but I gave her a twenty to include my next cocktail, then I strolled to VIP where the round black tables and vinyl chairs were dining height.
The stage was eye level, which meant the higher the girls climbed the poles the more I had to tilt my head back to see them. This VIP setup was intended to accommodate lap dances during the show.
I sat at my usual corner table next to the stairway the dancers used to enter and exit the stage. In case some dumb shit jumped off I was in position to snatch my gurl and get out.
The identical twins, Kandy and Karmella, were cleaning the gold poles in preparation for their routine. They tossed the rags to the back of the stage. Soon as the first beats to “Turn Down for What” came on, one quickly ascended a pole to the lateral bar near the ceiling, tossed one ankle over the bar, kept the other leg around the pole, then started rubbing her pussy as though she were masturbating.
“Hey, Alexis. What’s up?” the security guy asked. “You looking tasty in pink tonight.”
“Thanks, Big Norm. I see you got your sexy on,” I said, adjusting my halter a little low
er.
“When you gon’ call me, woman?” he said, scanning the room.
“Grad school taking up all my extra,” I lied.
“I’ma let you have that. Hit me up though. For real. I wanna take you out,” he said, walking away.
Bam! The other twin hit the floor with a full split, bounced, flipped onto her back, twirled her legs in the air, spun, spread her thighs, then held her pussy lips apart. Dudes gathered at the platform, stood there until the song ended. Some of ’em never drizzled dough on her. I shook my head. Cheap bastards should’ve bought a two-piece chicken special, went home, popped in a DVD, and jacked off.
I chilled until my gurl made her way center stage. Entertainment was cool but Chanel was an entrepreneur. From the first beat to the last, she focused on making the customer farthest from her stop whatever they were doing, come up to the stage, and drop them dollars. It worked on me.
The DJ pumped up the crowd announcing, “You don’t want to miss this, people. If you’ve never witnessed a squirter in action, here’s your chance. Lady Waterfall is about to gush. You gon’ need a raincoat and I ain’t talkin’ ’bout no condom, fellas.”
“Here you go, Alexis,” Peaches said, sitting a fresh drink on my table.
Dudes and chicks flocked to the stage. The DJ teased the crowd with a few more songs before Chanel did her thing. She sat in front of guy number one, opened her legs, placed her knees behind her shoulders, gazed into his eyes, then rocked on her back.
His mouth hung open like he was thirsty. He stared at my gurl’s pussy. Twenty seconds later the only thing in his hand was the dick inside his pants. Lady Waterfall politely slithered to the opposite end of the stage. She did the same move for a different dude. He made it rain so heavy I thought my gurl was gonna gush for him. Dude number one could hold out for the next female to flash his cheap ass but I knew Chanel well. She was not spreading for him again. She worked every side of the stage until the stage was covered with paper.
The DJ said, “Who wants to marry this pussy? I think she’ll say yes to the guy that drops the most cash,” then he played “Throw This Money on You” by R. Kelly.
Chanel climbed the gold pole nice and slow. She hung upside down, slowly descended head first toward the floor. Ascending midway up the pole she spun sideways. Lady Waterfall made her way to the top, placed one foot over the bar. Her other leg was on the pole, then she gave the crowd what they’d come for.
Lady Waterfall gushed like a river bursting through a dam.
Men shook their heads real slow. Several had that glossy I’m-in-love look in their eyes. Married or single, Chanel could have any one of these guys, females included. After the song ended, it took her five minutes to gather our wet dough into a large bag. Another ten minutes was needed for two guys to sanitize the stage and poles for the next performers.
No one knew Chanel as well as I did. Offstage, my gurl was submissive. To make certain she didn’t stray, I had to keep Chanel in check.
I didn’t want to be hard on her. I had to.
CHAPTER 8
Blake
“Happy fiftieth, Blake Crystal. I love you.” Untying my leopard robe, I let it drop to the floor.
I stood face-to-face with my naked reflection. I saw a beautiful, dark-skinned African-American woman. I was strong. Successful. I scanned myself head to toe. I was far from perfect. My breasts hung lower, stomach protruded a tad. Those were things I could fix with cosmetic surgery. The ass God blessed me with still sat high enough for a pencil to fall if placed underneath my cheek.
“Starting today, I am going to concentrate on me.”
The little girl inside of me cried for my mother. My lip quivered. “I miss and love you, Mommy.” I dried my tears. My feelings for my father weren’t the same. It wasn’t that I didn’t love him. The paternal love I had was different. Outside of being told that I was his daughter, I didn’t know him very well. Not wanting to be sad on my birthday, I went into my bedroom.
Fortune’s name had registered on my caller ID seventeen times. Make that eighteen. I declined, switched my cell to silent, tossed it on my comforter. I picked up the open bottle of champagne. The ice from last night had melted. Cool water dripped into the bucket. I refilled my flute then headed downstairs.
Sliding open my door, I stepped onto my patio. The fresh midafternoon humid breeze filled my lungs. I took in as much as I could, sat my flute on the table, then stood at the edge of my pool. Eighty-five degrees of sunshine heated my body.
I inhaled, stretched my arms wide, then softly exhaled, “Thank you, Jesus.”
All that I had, I owed to Him. I placed my palms together, closed my eyes, then I dove into the deep end. The cold water felt exhilarating.
I opened my eyes.
Midway, I came up for air. Treading the blue chlorinated water, all that I saw, I owned. The twelve blue lawn chairs with yellow cushions. The barbecue grill, round tables with umbrellas, and the outdoor fireplace were mine. Two acres of backyard covered with trees. Mine.
I swam to the side, got out, relaxed on a lounge chair. Raising my glass to the blue sky scattered with white clouds, I said, “A toast, to Blake Crystal.” I slid on my sunglasses.
The sound of my breathing was peaceful. I rubbed sunblock on my skin, reclined, and enjoyed my “me time.” I couldn’t recall the last time there was no Fortune, no Mercedes, Devereaux, Alexis, Sandara, or some man living under my roof. In this moment, I felt good.
I thought about my dad, wondering if our casual acquaintance made it easy for me to bond with men I barely knew. My memories transitioned to my daughter. While I felt she still needed my protection, Alexis deserved to know her dad. All of my children did. It was time for me to let my baby judge Conner Rogers for herself. After she walked across the stage, I’d give her his number.
The sweet melody of the saxophone penetrated my soul. I loved my Hidden Beach Unwrapped music collection. I reflected on my life. It wasn’t perfect but it was good, and I was grateful.
I’d better get up and get dressed for dinner.
Picking up my glass, I strolled through my place naked. I thrust my hips side to side. The room I entered off of the living area used to be Mercedes’s. The other girls were jealous my eldest, Devereaux, had the largest bedroom next to mine and that Mercedes had a Jacuzzi in her bathroom. Now that I was alone, I had the freedom to do whatever, whomever, wherever, in my house. The whomever included me doing myself and that was exactly what I was getting ready to do.
I filled the tub, stepped down two times, then pressed my lower back into the strong stream of bubbles. I sat directly on top of a jet that pumped cool water into my vagina. Today was all about me!
I squeezed my vaginal muscles to stop the flow of water entering me. “Yes!” I held my hands high. She still had it. I relaxed. Sipped champagne.
Thirty-four years had gone by since my sweet sixteenth birthday. I remembered 1980 well. Junior year my skirts were shorter; my legs had grown longer. My firm breasts were larger and my nipples stood out. They still did that. The skin-tight yellow, pink, blue, and green Gloria Vanderbilt jeans I loved to wear made boys and men stare at my ass.
Mama couldn’t buy me the clothes I wanted. I refused to accept hand-me-downs from my older sisters Ruby and Carol so I kept a part-time job babysitting until I got a work permit.
Damn, Blake. You’ve worked thirty-six years.
Soaking in the tub made me restless. I no longer felt like masturbating. Getting out of the Jacuzzi, I stepped into the shower, washed my hair. I dried off with a plush towel, then I massaged lotion all over my body.
I applied my favorite Lash Love Front Row eyelashes with the rhinestones, then eased into my fitted mid-thigh, red halter designer dress. I smoothed my hair into a bun, slid Tom Ford Slander red lipstick across my mouth.
Locking my door, I dropped my new keys in my red Lady Dior bag. Firing up the engine of my Ferrari, I listened to R. Kelly’s Genius, while cruising south on I-85.
T
he valet attendant opened my door. He reached for my hand. I gave him my key and a tip at the same time. I strutted inside the Cheesecake Factory at Lenox Square, sat at the bar, dangled my red stiletto on the tip of my toes, then ordered a drink.
“I need to see your ID,” the bartender said.
Smiling, I handed it over.
He looked at my driver’s license, then at me, then at my license, back at me, then said, “No way.”
I had to admit. Right now, I was feeling myself.
CHAPTER 9
Blake
“You chill?” the bartender asked.
I nodded.
“If you need anything else,” he paused, tapped the bar twice, then said, “I got you.”
“Thanks,” I said, stirring my vodka martini with the three olives that were aligned on a plastic pick.
He was cute. I stared into my glass. Waiting for my girls to arrive, I thought about Brandon’s comment that most relationships were messed up. He was right. I recalled the families that lived on my block when I was a teenager.
Where were they now?
If God were gracious to say, Blake Crystal, I’m going to let you go back to being sweet sixteen, what would I do differently?
Not have lost my virginity in the back seat of a Camaro? Not have had sex with more than one guy in the same day? Have all of my kids by the same man? Been a hundred percent sure who the fathers of my children were? Marry before starting a family? Not allow some of the men I dated to move into my home? I wasn’t proud of my past but I wasn’t ashamed of it either. I’d done well on my own.
He tapped twice, then asked, “You chill?”
Baby, You're the Best Page 4
