Black Burlesque

by L. C. Castillo

  I drop to my knees before him and grip his thighs. His arousal is evident. I take a moment to admire his prepossessing length. This is for me. I do this. I can make him physically swollen with want. I roll my tongue over and around the crown of his magnificent erection. I take him in my mouth, until I feel him pushing against the back of my throat. I want to devour him, all of him.

  I leisurely pull him in and out of my mouth, pressing my body up against his legs and thighs. His hands tangle into my hair. He hisses, groans and flexes his hips, burying himself into my eager mouth. I swirl my tongue from root to delicious tip. My hand grips the base of his manhood as I suck and stroke him simultaneously. I take my sweet time, enjoying and savoring the feel, and taste, of Vincent.

  He hoists me up by my shoulders, and kisses me once more.

  “Stop. I want to be inside of you,” he moans against my ear.

  He turns me around, and places my hands against the tile wall. He slides his luxurious length into me from behind. Oh, my God. I’ve never felt him this way before. Is it the water? For some reason I can feel him more, oh, so much more intensely. Everything is more sensitive. It is divine. I moan, and he thrusts himself in and out of me, I begin to pant and moan. Every stroke is unique. The water heightens my senses. He tilts my head back and kisses me with fervor.

  I turn around to face him and he raises me up so that I can wrap my legs around his slick torso. I can’t get enough of him. My hands grip his biceps as I find my bearings, feeling each and every sinewy muscle tighten and contract. His chest flexed, his rippling abs pushed against me; he is so fine.

  What did I do to deserve him? This gorgeous, God-of-a-man, who can fuck like this. My fingernails rake across his back and I push my breasts against him. He bites down on my neck and stills, pouring his orgasm inside of me. I follow after him a second later. His arms wrap firmly around me as he kisses my collarbone.

  “You’re perfect, Lenore. I want to be with you. Let me be with you. I’ll be with you any way you know how,” his voice is a flame and it sets fire to my soul. He runs his bottom teeth along my jaw.

  I close my eyes and attempt to still the emotions washing over me at hearing his words.

  We turn the shower water off moments later. He helps me out and folds me in a fluffy towel. My legs feel like jelly. I glance at his watch, resting on the counter next to my sink. It’s already 7:30; Maggie is most likely going to call the shop at any moment. I was supposed to be at her house by now, but I literally cannot make myself move any faster. I am tired, lazy, and completely spent, my body, in a trance.

  Vincent has a towel wrapped around his waist, and I cannot tear my eyes off of him. His body is glorious. He finds a comb in my bathroom and I watch as he styles his hair with ease. It’s perfect in seconds. He catches me staring and walks over to me. I still cannot move.

  “Do you need me to dress you?” He says in that deep, luxurious voice of his. His blue eyes twinkle mischievously.

  I nod meekly and he leads me to my closet. I watch him move around silently; he’s much too large for this dainty space. He drops my towel and grabs the body oil from my dresser. He massages it over me, taking care to work it in. My body heats against his touch. I really want that towel around his waist gone, but then I’ll never make it out of here if I do that. He opens up the top drawer of my small dresser and pulls out a pair of nude colored, silk panties. He slides them up my legs, kissing my pubic bone once before pulling them all the way up. Goosebumps cover my skin instantly. How is it possible that I still want more? Will I ever get enough of him? I’ll never get my fill.

  He opens up another drawer, the one that houses my bras, and shakes his head, no. I smile. He rifles through my closet and finds a lavender dress in a fit and flare style. It’s really more of a spring dress, but I oblige. It’s fitted at the bust and is loose and flirty at the bottom, skirting just above my knee. I step into it, and he zips me up, kissing my back and cupping my braless breasts before stepping back to admire me.

  I slide my feet into a pair of camel colored wedges. I’ll need to wear a coat, or a cardigan with this. It’s a little overcast this morning.

  He takes my chin in his fingers and plants a kiss on my lips. My hands rest on the towel at his hips, I trace the V shape on his lower abdomen. I want to kiss him here, and trace this yummy V with my tongue. I want him again. Now. My hand moves to gently cup his manhood over the towel. I trace the shape of his languid erection with my index finger. His lips part as he exhales, I pant against his mouth softly. I trace his soft happy trail and wedge my finger into his towel.

  My apartment door bursts open, and Bucky jumps to his feet as Maggie and Gladys barge in. I can hear them bickering with each other and shouting for Bucky to get down. I pull Vincent against me and hide behind him.

  Shit! Oh, God! I didn’t expect them to come here!

  “Lenore, girl, where are you? Oh, there...you—” Maggie stops in her tracks.

  “Where is that damn girl, don’t you know I’m hungry child!” Gladys comes to the opening of my closet and bumps into Maggie. She’s staring at a half-naked Vincent with her mouth wide open. My hands rest on his hips as I cower behind him. He seems perfectly unflustered. I want to die of embarrassment. I say nothing. Everyone is silent.

  Vincent pulls away from me, giving them a nice view of his chest and torso. I feel my face flame.

  Shit, shit, shit!

  “Hi, I’m Vincent, Lenore’s boyfriend,” he says extending his right hand to Maggie; his left hand is clutching his towel. He is no doubt giving them his most dazzling smile. They soften and grin at him widely. Maggie and Gladys stare blatantly at the fine specimen before them.

  I’m stuck on the fact that he just introduced himself as my boyfriend! Boyfriend? What the hell is he playing at? Maggie places her hand in his, running her eyes up and down his torso before giggling like a child.

  “No. Not my boyfriend, my friend,” I say, finding my voice five minutes too late.

  Maggie and Gladys ignore me. I roll my eyes at Vincent. He gives me his private smile, the one reserved especially for me.

  “That’s what I said,” Vincent says, turning back to them.

  Goddamn, that gorgeous smile of his, I can’t help but soften.

  Gladys sticks her hand out to him eagerly, Maggie reluctantly lets go and Vincent shakes Gladys’ extended hand.

  “I’m Gladys, this is Maggie. You can close your mouth now, Maggie,” Gladys says and they both burst into a fit of giggles.

  Oh, fucking hell.

  “I take it you’ll be joining us for breakfast?” Maggie says to Vincent.

  I am about to speak up, but Vincent cuts me off.

  “Absolutely. It will be my pleasure to join you lovely ladies. Let me just get dressed.”

  Maggie and Gladys make no attempt to move, trapping him in my closet.

  “Move, you perverts!” I snap, and they both shuffle out of the doorway, bumping into each other twice. I roll my eyes, and stifle a smile.

  How am I going to explain this mess to Vincent? Maggie won’t lie; she won’t say she is my grandmother. I’ve already confessed to being Cuban and yet she and I both have a very American last name. I’m surprised Vincent, as observant and clever as he is, hasn’t asked about that.

  Maggie let’s people believe what they like, but if asked, she always tells the truth. She and I are not related, she was my guardian; still is, I guess…

  I apply my makeup with no enthusiasm as Vincent gets dressed in my bedroom. I shouldn’t have gone for seconds of Vincent.

  Right, like I could help myself. Who am I kidding? My cheeks color at the thought of this morning’s exploits. My womanly parts are sore, and sensitive. A delightful reminder of where Vincent has been.

  Vincent joins me in the closet as Maggie and Gladys snoop around my living area. I hope I remembered to throw away the remnants of that joint from earlier this week. He takes me by the hand and pulls me out of my hiding place. I steal a glance toward
my bedroom. How did he manage to untie himself? The scarves are placed neatly in the center of my now made bed.

  He walks back into the closet as I stare, dumbfounded at the scarves. What is he, Houdini? And when did he make my bed? It had to be while I was putting on my makeup.

  He grabs a cream colored cardigan from my closet, and drapes it over my shoulders. He leans down to my ear, and his lips graze my earlobe.

  “Wake up,” he whispers so that only I can hear.

  I smile up at him, my heart in my throat. He hands me my cell phone. I place it in my purse after rolling my eyes in distaste, but I smile up at him again a moment later.

  “Aw, that’s a gentleman if I ever saw one,” Maggie says to Gladys, who is smiling sweetly at me. “And when did you get a cell phone? You better give me the number, girl.”

  I don’t like this. This whole thing is a huge mistake. Why is my life so out of my control lately?

  Vincent is back in his crisp white shirt, and denim jacket, his glasses back on his perfect face. He takes me by the hand and leads the way out of my shop. I kiss Bucky on the nose before I go.

  We choose Uptown Market Cafe off of Green Street. It’s good here, usually crowded, though we made it just before the after church rush. They’re known for using locally grown produce and organic eggs. Everything on their menu is made from scratch.

  I choose one of their veggie omelets, and Vincent chooses the Everything Omelet. Maggie and Gladys will share the Big Breakfast, which includes eggs, pancakes, hashed browns, a biscuit, bacon, sausage, and a bowl of fruit. I plan on stealing their biscuit.

  Maggie and Gladys haven’t stopped staring at Vincent and me. Vincent is doing most of the talking for us, thankfully. I’m clutching his hand nervously under the table. I never know what the hell Maggie is going to say, and Gladys is even worse.

  “How did you meet Lenore, and what were you doing at her house so early in the morning?” Gladys asks sweetly, and sarcastically.

  She’s so embarrassing. That woman has no filter. I blush ten shades of red and glare at her. I’m about to tell her to keep her questions to herself but Vincent is quick.

  “I met the lovely Lenore on a hike,” he smiles at me, and I get lost in his eyes for a moment. Keep it together! I look away. I hope he doesn’t mention the break in.

  “I stayed over last night because I had a little car trouble. And of course I slept on the couch,” he adds with a wink.

  I watch them both melt. I don’t think they’re even listening to him, and if they are listening, I’m sure they don’t buy the car trouble story. And the couch? Puh-lease! Well, he actually did sleep on the couch for a small portion of the night. But they don’t seem to mind that he spent the night. In fact, they both seem amused.

  “Yes, that’s quite a car you have.” Maggie searches Vincent’s face. She’s trying to feel him out.

  I don’t meet her eyes. Gladys is flat out staring at Vincent, sipping her coffee leisurely. I’m sure I don’t want to know what she’s thinking, but I’m glad she’s quiet for once.

  “So, what do you do, Vincent?”

  “I work in business,” he isn’t going to elaborate. Not for long, I hope.

  Maggie nods her head, and is about to ask another question, but thankfully the waitress interrupts us as she brings our breakfast. As soon as she sets down Maggie and Gladys’ plates, I make a grab for their biscuit and take a large bite. I close me eyes and smile as it melts in my mouth. It’s so warm and flaky.

  “Now, why do you always do that, Lenore? Order your own damn biscuit!” Gladys is furious.

  I continue to eat it with exaggerated vigor. Vincent laughs beside me, clearly entertained. He orders them another one.

  Conversation flows for the remainder of our breakfast, Maggie inquires about his family and schooling. Vincent leaves out his brief stay at Oxford, and barely mentions the music school in San Francisco. I’m sure Vincent will have questions for me later, as will Maggie. I decide to deal with it when the time comes, for now I’ll enjoy my meal, and their company. I’m just glad Maggie is directing all questions to him. He doesn’t flounder; never hesitates or stutters. I’m in awe of him.

  I mention his carpentry skills in an effort to join the conversation. It sets the girls off.

  I still can’t look Maggie in the eye. I’m a grown woman, but Maggie has a way of making me feel like a small child.

  After an embarrassing good-bye, which includes both old hags trying to kiss Vincent on the cheek, and trying to get him to come over to take a look at this or that that needs fixing, Vincent and I stroll ever so slowly back to my shop. We walk in companionable silence.

  Maggie and Gladys are going shopping. I have to open up shop in less than an hour. I’m waiting for Vincent to ask about Maggie. Should I be grateful he hasn’t said anything? Before he can ask, I fess up.

  “Well, I’m sure you know Maggie isn’t my grandmother.” I look up at him expectantly. He looks down with a half cocked-smile and an arched brow. I think this means, duh. We look nothing alike and we’re obviously from two different worlds.

  “I didn’t mean to lie, but it’scomplicated.”

  He remains quiet for a minute.

  “Did she care for you most of your life?”

  “Since I was 9,” I say, in a trembling voice.

  “She’s funny. They both are. Have you ever been to Cuba?”

  That’s an unexpected question.

  “No.”

  “How did you learn to speak Spanish so well?”

  “Um...my mother. I didn’t learn English until I was 6 or 7.”

  “You don’t want to go to Cuba?”

  I sigh, “Yesno. I don’t know.” I look down.

  I wait for him to ask about my mother, mercifully, he doesn’t.

  He clasps my hand in a firm and reassuring manner while continuing to look ahead. There is a silent understanding between the two of us. He knows I don’t want to think about the past. It brings to the surface too much sadness, a sadness that I have learned to suppress. I concentrate on how good my hand feels clutched safely in his. He has such a strong and commanding presence. I feel peaceful, for a moment that is.

  There is a sudden flurry of activity. Sirens are blaring, and fire trucks are speeding off in the direction of my shop.

  What?

  He glances down at me curiously. My heart hits double time. Vincent and I speed up, he grips my hand tightly, and eventually we begin to jog, then run.

  We round the corner of my street and are stopped by officers. I don’t want to look up. I can’t. I can already smell it.

  I hear Vincent gasp, and eventually I look up. I see my little building, my little world, is on fire.

  I scream a scream filled with agony. At first I don’t even realize that it’s coming from me. I crumble to the ground, my face in my hands.

  “Bucky!” I screech.

  Vincent snaps and begins pushing past firemen and police officers. They try to hold him back; he manages to shove a few of them off.

  “The dog! There’s a dog in there!”

  They manage to hold Vincent back and begin shaking their heads at him. No. There is no way that Bucky could have survived. The building is consumed with fire. Black plumes of smoke fill the sky. Vincent sits me on the curb further away from the flames and thick black smoke. I’m cold, so cold I’m trembling.

  “Was there anyone else in the building?” asks one of the officers, I can’t even look at him. I’m devastated. How could this have happened?

  “No. No one else,” Vincent answers for me. “How did this happen? What caused the fire?”

  “It’s not yet determined, sir, as soon as we know more, you’ll be notified. I’ll need your information, what are your names? Are you the owners of the building?”

  Vincent answers all of the questions for me, even though the officer keeps directing them to me once Vincent tells him I’m the owner. The officer finally walks away, giving us a brief repose from his
flurry of questions.

  I’m in shock. I can’t believe my shop is gone, and Bucky! My poor Bucky, I left him inside of my room! He has been my constant for so many years, and now? I let out a deep sob, but I can’t cry. I’m breathless, the sounds coming from me; they’re coming from a deep and cavernous place. I wrap my arms around myself in an attempt to stop my body from shaking. Vincent puts his phone down and stuffs it into his pocket before rushing over to me.

  He cradles me in his arms and carries me to the Mercedes. Thankfully, he parked across the street from my shop, and the officers allow him to get me into the car. He leaves his cell phone number and address with the officer in charge so that he can contact us, should he have any more questions.

  I lie down in the back of Vincent’s car with his denim jacket covering me. A deep chill rolls through me. I feel nauseous. I want to vomit. How could this have happened? Why? I am numb... completely and utterly numb.

  We pull into Vincent’s parking garage. He opens the car door for me and carries me to the elevator. I don’t even remember the drive. I don’t know how he manages, but he get’s the elevator going without putting me down. We enter his studio and he lays me down on his bed. He pulls the blankets over me, walks out, and then comes back with a glass of bourbon. I sip it tentatively, not looking into his eyes. I simply stare off, dumbfounded. I fall asleep in a matter of moments, listening to Vincent make phone calls from his kitchen.

  Maybe if I fall asleep, when I wake, this will all be a dream…

  Chapter 18