Braver (Runaway)

by Lexie Ray

  “I’m going to freshen up in the bathroom real quick,” I said, “but before I go, I need to know your names. I never have anyone without their names.”

  “I’m Johnny, and she’s Electra,” the guy said.

  “I’m so pleased to meet you,” I said, first kissing Johnny on his lips, then doing the same for Electra. “You all make yourself comfortable, but leave those clothes on. I have plans for them when I get back out here.”

  I left the couple seated on the bed before darting into the bathroom. I slipped out of the uniform and my lingerie set before washing up a bit. I grabbed a small bottle of lube from one of the drawers and prepared myself, working it into both holes as quickly and thoroughly as possible. Better to be safe than sorry, I’d learned early on. I retouched my makeup, patted my braids, and put the lingerie back on. It was a deep plum color, very sultry and playing well off the shade of my skin.

  I opened the bathroom door and laughed. Johnny and Electra were kissing and petting each other heavily, rolling around in the bed.

  “You all better save some for me,” I said, walking over and letting them ogle my nearly naked body.

  “You’re fucking hot,” Electra blurted out, her carefully straightened hair mussed.

  I smiled at her and held my hand out, pulling her from the bed.

  “Look at this beautiful woman,” I told Johnny, who propped himself up on one elbow on the bed. I twirled Electra around, touching her in every spot, running my hands over her breasts, tiny waist; the swell of her ass was barely covered by the sheer fabric of her skirt.

  I worked the top off first, hefting Electra’s breasts while smoothing her hair. She wasn’t wearing a bra — doing so would be impossible with how small the top was. Her breasts were large, the only pair in the group that was natural.

  “These are the most luscious tits I’ve ever laid eyes on,” I said, wondering if it was just a matter of time before she elected for surgery, like her friends. I brushed my thumbs over her pink nipples, watching her for a reaction. You either liked it or you didn’t, and the way her face colored showed me that she did.

  “See, babe?” Johnny said from the bed. “I keep telling you that you don’t need implants.”

  “Johnny!” Electra huffed, crossing her arms over her chest defensively.

  “Ah-ah,” I chided, slipping my hands beneath her arms to gently squeeze her tits. “There’s no hiding in here. We’re all beautiful, and we’re all friends.”

  With some more cajoling, Electra loosened up again. I slipped the micro miniskirt down to her ankles, kneeling and removing it, along with her painful-looking stilettos. Her pussy was shaved bare, a tiny tattoo of a heart inked on the bikini line.

  “I love a girl who takes care of herself,” I said, running my hands up her smooth legs. I planted a soft kiss on her pubic mound, listening to her happy sigh.

  I stood up again and led a naked, aroused Electra back to the bed.

  “You’re up, Johnny,” I said, holding my hand out for him.

  I undressed him for her, giving Electra the same show I’d given Johnny. He was heavily tattooed but fit, absorbing my kisses, caresses, and compliments just as his girlfriend had. I stroked his cock, not needing to do much. He’d been hard from the moment we started climbing up the stairs to come up here, I’d noticed.

  I looked over at Electra to see if she was jealous of another woman touching her man’s dick, but she seemed into it, her lips parted, her breathing heavy.

  “This is your anniversary,” I said, my voice low. “You tell me what you want and I’ll make it happen.”

  Electra got up from the bed. “I want us to undress you,” she said. “I want us all to be naked.”

  She and Johnny stood on either side of me, rubbing me, loosening my panties and bra, rubbing the skin that was revealed. I surprised myself by getting extremely turned on by the extra attention. Two pairs of lips on me, two pairs of hands exploring my body. I moaned, knowing how important it was to make my appreciation — real or imagined — known to the other parties.

  “You all are such a hot couple,” I said. “You’re making me hotter than anyone has ever made me. That’s God’s honest truth.”

  I led them back to the bed and we all three clambered on. Getting Johnny to recline, I pulled Electra into a kneeling position.

  “Let’s show your boyfriend what a girl can do with her mouth,” I said.

  We started working our tongues in tandem over his steel shaft, his groans music to my ears. Knowing how visual men were, I fondled Electra’s hanging breasts well within his sight.

  “So fucking sexy,” he gasped.

  My tongue met Electra’s more times than was necessary, telling me that she wanted more of my attention. I didn’t think that Johnny would mind. I drew her to my body, holding her, trailing my hand down her back, rubbing slow circles over her ass, slipping my fingers between her cheeks before drawing them forward, right into her honey pot.

  “You like that, baby?” I murmured into her ear. “Let Cocoa know how much you like it.”

  The wetness between her legs told me everything I needed to know, but I wanted her vocal for Johnny’s benefit. His cock was still rock solid, standing out away from his body.

  “I love it,” she said, rocking her hips against my fingers. “Oh my God, I love it.”

  “Come here, Johnny,” I directed. “Let’s show your girlfriend a good time.”

  I’d never eaten pussy before, but more than a handful of customers had begged me to let them do it to me. Their hot, wet tongues had done little more than gross me out, but I was sure there was a proper way to do it. I watched Johnny for a few seconds, looking at the way he ate her, recording how it made her moan.

  “That looks too good to pass up,” I said. “Let me have a taste, baby.”

  I moved my head down, feeling a little nervous but not letting any of it show. I darted my tongue out, flicking it against the bean of her clitoris, suckling gently on the juicy nub.

  Electra screamed as I worked that magical spot, plunging two of my fingers into her leaking pussy.

  “Yes!” she shouted. “Yes! Oh my God, I’m coming! Yes!”

  I smiled around that quivering pussy as Electra’s muscles clenched and shook, her eyes rolling back into her head. Johnny looked at me in amazement as I kneeled over her.

  “Come taste your girlfriend on another woman’s mouth,” I said, puckering up.

  He kissed me deeply, plundering the bouquet of flavors from my tongue and lips. I was surprised that I hadn’t been more grossed out while performing cunnilingus for the first time. I had honestly been more focused on the mechanics of it, focused on doing the right things to turn Electra on.

  “What do you want next, babe?” Johnny asked his girlfriend, breaking our kiss. “Tell me what you want.”

  I recognized that he was asking her permission to fuck me. I bent forward and dragged sloppy kisses across her chest before kissing her.

  “I want you to fuck Cocoa like this,” Electra said, “with her on top of me.”

  “Fuck me, Johnny, while I ravish your girlfriend,” I said, looking over my shoulder as I presented my assets to him, popping my butt up and straddling Electra.

  That was all the invitation he needed. He pushed into my body, ramming into my well-lubed pussy. I realized that the lube eased the way, but I was so aroused that it hardly mattered. I was making juices of my own.

  “She’s so wet, babe,” Johnny reported, holding my hips as he slammed into me.

  “It’s because I’ve got this eye candy right in front of me,” I said, kissing Electra sweetly. Every thrust of her boyfriend made my body rub against hers, my tits bumping hers. She arched into each touch, still thoroughly turned on. I knew some customers who turned shy and withdrawn after their orgasms. Electra didn’t seem to be one of them. Of course, I’d never had a woman as a customer.

  She pinched my nipples, taking her cues from the way I’d touched her earlier. I moaned, a smalle
r and smaller percentage of it only acting. It’d been a long time since I’d been so turned on by a customer. I hardly ever came anymore except by my own hand, in the privacy of my room.

  “God, baby, he’s going to tear me apart with that cock of his,” I groaned, aware that I was paying a little too much attention to Electra. “How does he not break you in half every time you fuck?”

  Johnny’s increased thrusts told me that I’d done right, complimenting him. I showered Electra with kisses, drawing out one of her breasts to suck on the hard, pink nipple. She moaned thickly.

  “I want you to come, Cocoa,” she said, her tone of voice making my insides shiver. Was I really going to come on command?

  “Play with my clit,” I whispered to her. “Make me come, baby.”

  “I’m gonna make her come, Johnny,” Electra announced. She reached down and found my clitoris with little problem, squeezing that sensitive spot gently but persistently. I knew it was probably how she made herself come when she masturbated. Johnny angled his hips differently and struck my G-spot, making me mewl. I was so close.

  “Check out this trick Electra taught me,” he said. That was all the warning I got before he pressed his thumb against my tight, puckered hole. The strange, vaguely uncomfortable pressure cut across my pleasure, but the feeling of fullness when he popped his thumb fully inside magnified everything else that was happening to my body.

  “Good, isn’t it?” Electra murmured into my ear.

  My body burst into an exquisite orgasm, richer than anything I’d given myself recently. All I could do was cry out, moving against all of the fingers and mouths and bodies around me.

  “You all are something else,” I said when I could finally speak. “I want to watch you all fuck now. I’m going to touch myself while you do it.”

  Electra mounted Johnny, and I did just as I’d said, rubbing my pussy and wondering at the mysteries of life.

  There was never a dull moment at Mama’s nightclub.

  Chapter 2

  Sometimes time passed so quickly that it blew my mind. The only days I didn’t work were times when I was sick. With the money coming in and some of my regular clients requesting me specifically, it was hard to get away from the nightclub. Working constantly meant that days and nights melded together, becoming a long string of action. It was a grind at times, but my friendships with the rest of the girls made everything better.

  We really were all family — especially for those who didn’t have a real family anymore.

  Another reason I worked all the time was so that I could send money to Granny. Granny — Eulalie Bell — had raised me from the day I was born to a heroin-addicted teenager. As a tiny baby, I was just as addicted as my young mother.

  The court stepped in to strip my mother’s rights to keep me, but Granny wouldn’t let them put me up for adoption. She was a court worker during the case, but close to retirement. She said later she was tired of watching families ripped apart and that she wanted to start mending some instead.

  “You know as well as I do that adoption’s a crapshoot these days,” she said, facing down the judge in an epic battle she told to me later as a bedtime story growing up. “This baby will get the care she needs from me. You know me. You know how I operate. The child will flourish.”

  My mother hadn’t shown any interest in naming me before going to jail, so Granny gave me my name: Collette Bell.

  “Granny, why ain’t I got no middle name?” I asked when I was old enough to care about such things.

  “Maybe I’ll tell you if you can ask me correctly,” she answered primly. She was downright authoritarian about proper grammar, and the neighborhood was doing me no favors in that department. I parroted my classmates at school in their grammar and their rough language. I’d already learned not to curse in front of Granny. I still imagined I could taste the sharp, horrid bar of soap that she’d washed my mouth out with.

  I took a deep breath and tried again. “Granny, why do I not have a middle name?”

  Granny nodded minutely. “Child, you only need one name because you only have to be one person: yourself,” she said, drawing me into her lap to straighten the ribbon in my hair. “As long as you’re true to yourself — because you always know what’s right, deep down — you’ll have nothing to worry about in the whole wide world.”

  It was a lesson I took to heart. Granny was very wise then, having just retired from a career of watching young people and families fail. She knew exactly what needed to be said to push a young mind in the right direction.

  So for a while, I did go in the right direction. Granny made a happy home for me. She went to teacher conferences, helped me with my homework, and took me to the park when it was nice weather. I loved hearing the swish of her polyester pants as she moved around in her daily business, cooking up something delicious for me to eat or doing her portion of the chores. Her perfume floated down the hallway after her, leaving a lingering fragrance of sandalwood to mark her passage. She got her hair done once a week, always in the same tight curls that washed over her head like waves.

  She was never without her thick, pink-rimmed glasses, though she was vain about them.

  “They’re just my reading glasses,” she’d say dismissively, holding them up to her eyes from the chain they usually dangled from. I knew that the way she squinted at me sometimes meant that they were everyday-use glasses. She probably should have been wearing them at all times.

  We had a good life together. Granny was strict but loving. She made me eat all my vegetables but always had a slice of cake waiting. She braided my hair until I learned to do it on my own. My skirts were always starched and ironed. Her home was an oasis against all ills, but some good things have to come to an end.

  The problem was twofold: We lived in a bad neighborhood, and Granny liked to try to help lots of people. She couldn’t turn down a lost cause. I benefited from that, of course, but many people tried to take advantage of her.

  Kids moved in and out of that house, and it became something of a halfway home. There were success stories, and I had some fond memories. We called each other cousins and ran around together, thick as thieves.

  But for as many success stories, there were twice as many failures. We were once robbed blind by a drifter Granny had opened her home to. He took everything of any value, probably to pawn for cash to fund his all-consuming addiction. That even included the toaster. It took months for us to save up enough money to buy a TV.

  By that time, I was in high school and working after classes in a daycare. All the little children were bright spots in my day. They could never pronounce “Miz Collette,” but “Miz Cocoa” they could more than manage. They chirped it like birds, running back and forth across the center.

  And Cocoa stuck. Even Granny took to calling me that.

  “But you’ll always be my Collette Bell,” she said, snaking her arm around my waist and hugging me to her. I’d surpassed her height during middle school and had to lean down to give her a kiss on the top of her white curly hair.

  Granny — to multiple people's objections, mine included — took in Tito, a notorious thug in the neighborhood. I avoided him as much in school as out — during the days he was in school, anyway. He was a truant, a drug dealer, a thief, a gang member, and an all-around troublemaker.

  "Granny, Tito's beyond hope," I protested as she made up a cot for him in the living room. He had gone to his buddy's house to pack a backpack before coming over.

  "Cocoa, no one's beyond hope," Granny said. "I never thought you were beyond hope, small as you were and addicted to heroin when you were just born."

  "That's different," I continued, following her as she continued to bustle around. "I was just a baby. Tito's bad news."

  "He asked for help, Collette," she said, her use of my full name indicating she was getting irritated. "When somebody asks, I can't deny them the help I have to give."

  I knew I was already skating on thin ice, but I had to try. The time the drif
ter had robbed us had been bad, but I was afraid Tito would be so much worse.

  "Granny, I heard he's done bad things," I said. "I don't want him bringing that kind of nonsense inside your house."

  "Anyone can hear anything, child, but that doesn't make it true," she said, dusting off one of the coffee tables. "Now, if you're finished with your homework, you can start some supper."

  Thus began Tito's reign of terror. Granny didn't take any mouthing off, which Tito learned right away. One baleful look from her was all it took for him to stop cursing in the house. That surprised me and heartened Granny. Was Tito really going to work out? I began to wonder ...

  ... and stopped the day I got out of the shower and found him leaning against the wall, staring at me.