Mistress for Hire

by Niobia Bryant

  “Let me evaluate her and then we’ll talk,” Dr. Zevin said, offering her hand a consoling pat before he strode away, leading them all inside the hospital.

  Jessa accepted the forms the unit clerk handed her when she came to the admitting desk.

  “She’s going straight in the back,” the woman said with a polite smile. “I’ll let you know when you can go back and be with your mother.”

  “There’s no need,” Jessa said unapologetically before turning to kneel beside her mother.

  “I’ll be good, Jessa,” she whimpered, her anger and belligerence fading.

  “Telling Georgia about my father and what he did to me was cruel, Darla,” she whispered for her ears alone. “Somewhere inside this crazy, you know exactly what I’m talking about. So let me be clear. I will never forgive you for that, and you will rot in some facility wishing like hell that you didn’t fuck with me or mine. The next time I lay eyes on you, it will be your corpse. I promise you that.”

  Darla gasped and reached out for her. “No, Jessa, no!” she begged as her wheelchair was backed through an open door that soon closed and divided them from each other’s sight.

  Jessa took a seat in the waiting room and began filling out the forms, quietly mouthing the words: “And I’m feeling good.”

  * * *

  When Jessa walked inside her home she paused in the doorway. It was back to being spotless and beautiful. All signs of whatever her mother’s crazy drove her to do was gone. Everything was still. Quiet. Winifred had taken Delaney to a nearby park, and Valeria was done for the day. Jessa kicked off her heels before jogging up the stairs and then walking down the hall to pause at the open door to her mother’s bedroom.

  “I’m free,” she whispered with a small smile, glad for Darla’s absence.

  She entered and walked around, pulling everything from the dresser drawers before searching odd places she’d thought would expose all the secrets her mother held. She was disgusted by the bag of dirty underwear, remembering how her mother used to live in filth like a hoarder back in her apartment in Harlem. This was yet another sign that her mental illness had once again taken control.

  The discovery of the pills she’d been hoarding inside the tip of one of her shoes truly baffled her. Keeping them there instead of easily flushing them was like mocking her. To have some convoluted sense of control in a life where she felt she had none.

  Crazy ass.

  At the rear window, Jessa paused and looked out at the afternoon sun high in the sky creating a beautiful landscape. She pushed the window open, wanting to invite in the fresh air, and the sounds of jazz music in the distance reached her. It was fast and up-tempo, reminding her of the Sundays she used to spend with Aria, Renee, and Jaime’s brunch at one of their favorite restaurants that had a live band.

  To hell with them, too.

  Wanting distance from the memories, she reached to pull the window closed. She paused when she spotted the elderly man in his backyard across the street, tapping his foot in time to the music as he refilled his snifter from a tall bottle of some brown liquor.

  “She went walking around the block.”

  Jessa shook her head, remembering Winifred’s words about her mother’s location while she and Hammer were on their sham of a honeymoon. So clearly, she could envision her mother standing at this very same window plotting on that old man, his liquor, and who knew what else. Slick ass.

  She closed the window and left the room, closing the door on her involvement in her mother’s life once and for all.

  Ding-dong.

  She made her way down the stairs, acutely aware that she still looked and smelled like the day before. “Who is it?” she asked, her hand on the doorknob.

  “It’s me. Hammer. Open up, Jessa. Let’s talk.”

  Her hand went up to her neck to lightly stroke the dark bruises that remained from his tight grip. He cheated on me, fucked my daughter—knowingly or unknowingly, and then assaulted me because he couldn’t take my payback.

  “I asked you not to come here again, Hammer. We’re through,” she said, her eyes glittering as she reached for her iPhone in the pocket of her red pantsuit. “Please leave me and my business alone.”

  Another pause.

  “Your business?”

  She arched a brow. “Did I need to say the words ‘you’re fired’ for you to understand that?”

  She dialed 9-1-1.

  “I love you, Jessa,” he said, knocking on the door.

  She moved away from it as the dispatcher answered. “Yes, I need the police to my home. My soon-to-be ex-husband is here. I’m afraid. I don’t want to be hurt anymore. I’m tired of being beat upon. He refuses to leave.”

  “Is he inside the home?”

  Knock-knock-knock-knock.

  “No, I’m safe inside, but I would feel better if the police came and talked to him before he breaks in or something,” she said, feeding false fear into her voice as she rolled her eyes.

  “Jessa, open up and let me talk to you face-to-face, baby, please—”

  She moved close to the door, leaning back against it. “Leave me alone, Hammer, please! I asked you not to come back here after you choked me,” she said, her voice loud and expressing a fear she did not feel.

  “I was so mad. I’m sorry for that,” he said through the door.

  “He choked you?” the operator asked.

  Jessa arched a brow. “Yes, the other day. I’m so afraid,” she whispered. “Lord, please tell the police to hurry.”

  She turned and kicked her door several times.

  Thud-thud-thud.

  “I think he’s trying to knock the door down. Oh God, hurry, please, hurry,” she said, suddenly longing for a cigarette to cap off the drama.

  “Please stay on the line with me, Ms.—”

  “Bell,” Jessa supplied.

  The wail of sirens soon filled the air.

  “I think I hear the police,” she said, turning to look out the peephole just as a cop car turned up her driveway. “Yes, it’s them. Thank you so much.”

  Jessa ended the call and opened the door just as a male and female officer stepped from their vehicle.

  Hammer had turned to eye them, but turned back to look at her in shock. “Really, Jessa, the police?” he asked.

  Her eyes were brimming with insolence as she stroked her neck. “Yes, really,” she said, giving him a look of pure malice before she changed her expression and fought to fill her eyes with crocodile tears.

  “Sir, step away from the door,” the male officer said, his hand already on his holstered weapon.

  Hammer immediately held up both hands and turned to face them. “I am unarmed,” he said.

  “We’ll be right with you, miss,” the cop said.

  She nodded, looking forlorn as the red and blue lights of the siren silently played against her face. Hammer was walked over to the back of a police car as she slumped down to sit on the door saddle.

  A uniformed female police officer walked over to her. “Are you okay?” she asked.

  Jessa looked up at her, purposefully extending her neck. “Yes, we split up and I’ve asked him to stay away from here—”

  “What caused those bruises?” she asked.

  “He did the other day,” Jessa said, closing her eyes and letting tears fall as she continued to stroke her neck. “He choked me. I didn’t call the police, though. I never did when he gets that way.”

  “What way?”

  “He beats me when he’s mad,” Jessa exaggerated.

  “I need to take photos of those,” she said.

  Jessa nodded as she rose, following the officer’s directions to turn and hold still as she took pictures with her cell phone. In the distance she saw the moment Hammer looked over at them and did a double take before he shook his head and looked downward.

  All she could see as she looked at this man she once loved, trusted, and built her dreams upon was the sight of his buttocks clenching and releasing as he thru
st inside another woman. His lies, deceit, and disrespect nearly stifled her.

  I hate him.

  They stared at each other as the officers conferred, and when the male officer walked over and asked Hammer to turn and place his hands behind his back, Jessa wondered if he regretted every moment he lied and used her.

  “Ms. Bell, your husband is being arrested for assault. We do suggest that you pursue a restraining order to ensure he does not continue to bother you.”

  I guess getting a quickie divorce in the Dominican Republic is out.

  The rest of her words faded into the background as she watched him give her one last look over his broad shoulder before the cop palmed the back of his head and pushed it down as he was placed inside the police cruiser.

  His destruction was the easiest. He’d handed it to her.

  How could I resist?

  She took the card the officer handed her with the incident number to identify the case report. As the car pulled away, she tapped the card against her cheek and turned to enter her home without another look back.

  * * *

  After a long bath and change of clothes, Jessa felt rejuvenated. She pulled her hair up into a tight topknot and slipped on her black Gucci frames that matched the lightweight fitted black tee she wore with wide-leg pants and patent leather Louboutin flats. She finished off the outfit with her platinum and diamond jewelry and watch.

  As she applied her bright red matte lipstick in the mirror, she knew the woman in the reflection had changed. Gone were any illusions of happiness.

  I see you happy, my Jessa, and that makes me so happy for you. I don’t care what anyone says, I know that you deserve it after everything you have been through.

  She smirked and shook her head, using the pad of her pinkie to clean any lipstick that overlapped her mouth. Happiness wasn’t one of the cards she was dealt in life, but she was taking back control and swore she would never feel such pain again.

  “Never again,” Jessa swore, turning from the mirror and tossing her iPhone inside her black Chanel bag.

  Mama, save me.

  “Shit,” she swore, reaching into the bag for the cell phone she’d just dropped in it to dial Georgia’s number. It went straight to voice mail.

  “This is Georgia. No essays or soliloquies, please.”

  What to say? Jessa was at a loss. She shook her head and ended the call, dropping the phone back in her pocketbook and grabbing the bag by the handles before she left her bedroom suite and made her way down the hall. She wanted to say the right thing. Make it better for her. In the past she would have turned to Bible verses and prayer for clarity. She refused to lean on that falsehood again.

  There was a time when fear of hell dictated her life. Now she didn’t believe in the heavens and the only hell she acknowledged was the one burning inside her.

  Revenge was her fuel, and she was brimming over with the need to feast upon it. Although Georgia had infiltrated her life and plotted to destroy her, Jessa held no ill will against her. She was a distraction—a door to emotions and regrets Jessa was unable to handle. She needed focus.

  Georgia Coletti was not on her list, but plenty more were.

  Jessa left her house and drove to Manhattan in silence. Her thoughts were full. Her schemes were wicked.

  She pulled into her parking spot and leaned forward to peer through the windshield at a note tucked between the wall and a metal pipe. She grabbed her phone and briefcase before exiting, taking the steps to lead her to the wall to retrieve the note. “Come see me. H.,” she read aloud, before shaking her head and tucking the note into the side pocket of her bag.

  It was clear Mr. Halston was in need of more.

  Do I even have the time?

  She’d only come to the office to retrieve files she needed. Sex hadn’t been on the agenda.

  Jessa stepped on the elevator along with two men and a woman, all in business attire. She looked down at the panel of numbers as the door closed before finally pressing the button for the twelfth floor. Why the hell not?

  And when the lift slid to a stop on that floor, she bit back a mischievous smile as she made her way to his offices. There was the same high-energy, almost frenetic pace of his employees. The receptionist eyed her as she came to a stop in front of her desk. “Mr. Halston, please,” she said coolly.

  “Do you have an appointment?”

  “Not at all,” Jessa replied, giving her a chilly smile. “Ms. Stranger, please. If he’s available.”

  “One moment.”

  Jessa crossed the area to set her bag in one chair and bend her body to sit in another.

  “You can go right in,” the receptionist said, before Jessa could press her bottom to the seat.

  She nodded and grabbed her things. “I guess I didn’t need an appointment after all. Thanks, dear,” she said mockingly as she passed her desk and opened the door to the conference room.

  Mr. Halston was already standing in the open doorway of his office sans a jacket with his tie loosened around his neck and a stylus pen tucked behind his ear. “You got my note?” he asked, walking back inside the office and smiling in pleasure as she closed the door and strolled toward him.

  “I did,” she said, pausing to rise on her toes and press her cheek to his as she stroked the front of his zipper. She looked up at him and bit her bottom lip. He was already hard.

  “Well, damn, Mr. Halston,” she whispered, her words coating his lips.

  He wrapped a strong arm around her waist and held her body close to his. “I can’t get you off my mind,” he said before pressing his face against her neck and kissing her there.

  Jessa shivered, dropping her bags to the floor as she tilted her head back and ran her fingers through his blond hair. She tugged the silky ends, lifting his head and meeting his eyes with her own. “Did you wish it was me when you were fucking your wife last night?” she asked.

  His eyes smoldered. “I haven’t touched her since I had you,” he said.

  She pouted. “Why? Her pussy not as good?” she asked, stepping out of his embrace to step out of her shoes and remove both her pants and her lace thong.

  “Hell no,” he admitted emphatically.

  “Pants off,” Jessa ordered him as she walked over to his desk to roll the chair from behind his desk to the center of the office. She patted the seat for him. “Condom.”

  Mr. Halston rushed to pull out his wallet and retrieve protection before dropping his pants and boxers down around his tanned ankles and atop his handmade Italian shoes.

  “Sit.”

  He did. His erection pointing toward the ceiling.

  Jessa straddled his lap, rising onto her toes and reaching between their bodies to guide his hardness inside her with a hot little gasp. He moaned in pleasure at the feel of her as he jerked her T-shirt and bra up above her breasts and sucked one brown nipple deeply. She squatted up and down on him, enjoying the feel of him and their salacious act there in his office as the afternoon sun shone through the window onto their bodies.

  It was hot and frenetic and just what she needed.

  She was so aroused that her clit ached and her nipples throbbed as she closed her eyes and rode him, alternating between up-and-down motions and slow grinds of her hips that brought the base of his dick against her spot.

  “Am I the first black girl you ever fucked?” she asked him in a hot whisper, entwining her fingers behind his strong neck as she leaned her upper body back to look at him.

  “Yes,” he admitted, bringing his hands up to gently stroke her nipples as he thrust his hips upward to deepen the length of him inside her.

  Jessa cried out as her body rolled.

  “Shit, you’re beautiful,” Mr. Halston swore, his dick hardening inside her. “Please don’t make me cum yet.”

  So. Damn. Good.

  Jessa released him and turned her body on his dick so that her back was to him before moving her hips back and forth, sending her core gliding across the length of him to press her
walls against him when she reached the smooth, round tip.

  He cried out, pressing kisses to her spine as he snaked his hands around her body. One gripped a full breast and teased her nipples between his fingers, while the other stroked down across her stomach to bury his fingers against her moist and throbbing clit in sweet circular motions that made her entire body quiver in anticipation.

  Damn, white boy. Damn.

  She wanted to cum on him so very badly. Warm him. Wet him. Clutch her walls against him.

  “I love your pussy,” he moaned against her back with a grunt of pleasure that came from deep within him. “Shit!”

  Beep.

  She felt his face swipe against her back as he looked over his shoulder.

  “Mr. Halston, your wife is here to see you,” his receptionist said via the intercom.

  Jessa was too close to her climax to even think about stopping. “Let her wait,” she gasped, biting her bottom lip as she rode him. Harder. Faster.

  He backed the chair toward his desk. “Tell her I’m wrapping up a meeting and will be right out,” he said before releasing the intercom button.

  Jessa flung her head back and giggled in pleasure. “Should I stop?” she asked, reaching for his hands to put them back on her body. Her breasts. Her clit. His touch would intensify her nut.

  “Hell no.”

  “Fuck her?” she asked, looking back over her shoulder at him.

  “Fuck her,” he emphasized.

  Moments later they both softly cried out as they came together, both working their hips to satisfy themselves until their climaxes receded and nothing was left to feel.

  Jessa’s legs were wobbly and she stumbled a bit when she climbed off him. “Damn,” she swore, fighting to find the energy to put on her clothes, her extremities still trembling.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Ms. Bell,” he countered as he stood as well and removed his filled condom to drop it into the wastepaper basket.

  She couldn’t hide her surprise.

  “My receptionist recognized you and knows you have an office in the building and wondered if I was working on renovating it for you,” he explained as he bent to pull up his pants and boxers.