by Koko Brown
Tongue stuck out, she stuffed her hand in the envelope holder. She swiped left then right, her fingers grazing brushed suede. “How do you like me now?” she whispered to the petty universe. Wallet in hand, she walked back into the living room.
“Where’d you find it?”
“Mission control in the hall.”
“What’s mission control?” Chuckling, he reached for the wallet.
She lifted it out of reach. “Go get dressed.”
“Why are we going for lox and bagels anyway?” he groused. “It’s the middle of the week.”
“Who says we only have lox on Sunday?” She slipped her fingers in her hair to scratch an invisible itch, her tell whenever she lied.
“It’s tradition,” he pointed out, finally coming to his feet.
Hands placed lovingly on his back, she gently pushed him toward his bedroom. “Bagels and cream cheese are really fresh and they make them on site.”
“I can name half a dozen kosher bakeries in a two block radius that bake their own bread.”
“What about the cream cheese?”
He didn’t go gently. Still, he went. Attached to her head and its place on her shoulders, she abandoned him in the doorway to his bedroom.
With some effort, she got him to Mount Sinai prompt and on time.
“The deli’s on this floor?” he barked as they climbed off the elevator. His eyes darted down the hall. “These all look like doctor offices.”
“Deli’s on street level. We’ll grab something when we leave the clinic.”
“Why are you dragging me around for a doctor’s visit?” His eyes widened. “You aren’t sick are you?”
Shoshana slid her arm through his and guided him down the hall. “We’re not here for me. I wanted you to see a doctor.”
“Now hold on, baby girl, I might act crazy sometimes. There’s no need to Baker act me.”
“If I don’t find out what’s happening with you, I’m going to be the one needing a straight jacket.”
A myriad of emotions flickered across his face: confusion, anger, embarrassment then defeat.
“I’ve taken you on quite a ride haven’t I?”
“It’s not your fault, daddy.” She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him. He returned her hug with equal fervor. “How can you handle something you don’t know? Who knows, you might be forgetting things because of old age.”
She laughed when he abruptly set her aside.
“Watch it now,” he groused. “I’m barely out of my fifties.”
“And you’re still handsome as ever…when you’re not frowning,” she said, rubbing his furrowed brow. Eyes practically identical to the other met and held.
“Don’t worry, baby girl, I’m not leaving you anytime soon.”
“You promise?”
“Cross my heart.”
Shoshana could barely dredge up the energy to lift her spoon. On the other hand, her father attacked his lox and bagel with a side of chicken soup like a man starving. One would think he just received the best news of his life not a life-changing diagnosis like early-onset dementia.
Her father paused mid-bite, “You’re not hungry?”
“Why are you taking this so well?”
“Can’t worry about tomorrow ‘cause only today is promised. I have now. I have today. I’m feeling great. Plus,” he paused to take a bite out of his bagel, “these bagels are delicious.”
Shoshana twisted her lips into a ghost of a smile. His positive attitude couldn’t penetrate her present mood or shake her morbid thoughts. Ever since leaving the clinic, all she could think about were living wills, powers of attorney, medical insurance, life insurance, cemetery plots, bank accounts, home care nurses, hospices, and nursing homes.
“That thing’s vibrating.”
Shoshana looked down at Tyson’s face smirking back at her. “Excuse me,” she murmured, picking up her cell phone.
“Alright…alright…alright!”
Not even Tyson’s new fondness for mimicking Matthew McConaughey could pull her out this funk.
“Everything okay back at the fort?”
“So well, the Silver Fox’s suit came off the line a couple days early. I was going to set up an appointment for the final fitting but then I thought—”
Realizing what needed to be done, she blurted, “I’ll do it. Have it ready for me to pick up this afternoon.”
“Will do, boss. I know now’s not the time to talk about your father but will we be having a long talk or a short one tomorrow?”
Shoshana glanced at her father. He’d moved onto a slice of cherry pie.
“Probably a good idea to clear out my morning appointments,” she suggested.
“And a box of Kleenex?”
“Make it two.”
***
Patrick found it easier to think on his feet. So he stood facing the floor-to-ceiling windows in his living room. Vanessa sat on the sofa a tablet balanced on her knee. Dressed in jeans and a CUNY sweatshirt, she’d taken to working out of his luxury condo in stride as if the Morrissey Group never existed.
“Have you followed up with the Patel brothers? Are they going to accept the Plemco Supply deal?”
“They signed on the dotted line last Friday. I picked up a copy yesterday and filed it away.”
He calculated the projected annual revenue in the first five years and gave a satisfactory nod. A leading industrial distributor and Fortune 500 company, Plemco maintained a massive distribution network in 48 states and four Canadian provinces. They also owned subsidiaries in seven territories. If all went as planned, his initial investment of a quarter million dollars would double by the end of the first year.
Patrick glanced at his watch. He loved talking business and there was a time when making money made his dick hard but only one thing, make that one person was causing this untampered rush of adrenaline.
“Did you call The Dumpling House?”
Smiling, Vanessa slid her glasses up the bridge of her nose. “As soon as they opened for dinner, I placed the order. They should be here any minute.”
That meant Shoshana would be here any minute. Patrick reached up and rubbed the middle of his chest. His heart beat violently at the prospect of seeing her again so soon. She’d accepted his terms only yesterday. They’d made plans to see each other this weekend for the opera followed by dinner. Her call earlier this morning regarding his final fitting had caught him by surprise but it didn’t keep him from thinking ahead and using the opportunity to turn it into their second official date.
“Are we done here?” he asked, not the least bit apologetic for kicking his assistant out. He wanted Shoshana all to himself.
“Not quite.” Vanessa uncurled herself from the sofa. “I need your John Hancock on the sales contract. The realtor would like to go to escrow before the end of the month.”
He followed her to the dining room table which was now an extension of his makeshift home office.
“Are you sure you want to get rid of the beach house?” she asked, squeezing her feet into a pair of white, shell-toe Adidas. “You love the shore.”
“I love it so much I’ve laid my head there four times in the past five years.” He’d been too busy playing sycophant and making money for R.W. he barely enjoyed the spoils of his labor. Plus, if this sale went through he’d have a couple million to play with. He had a couple of investments on his mind and maybe a vacation. He wondered if Shoshana had ever been to Bali.
“Come on girls. We need to get out of Patrick’s hair. He has a hot date.” Vanessa walked over to a play area he’d fitted with a plush tri-colored rug, tiny bookshelf, bean bags, a children’s table and a toy chest. Their leaving never went as planned nor swiftly. At least today’s departure didn’t include the occasional waterworks due to a late afternoon nap.
Tabitha, the older of the twins, opened and closed her fist at him. “Padrik,” she called.
Their new work situation was only entering its second month but
Vanessa’s twin girls had already wrapped him around their chubby little fingers. Smiling, he picked one sister up then the other.
“I’ll deliver the contract to the realtor first thing in the morning. I’ll be in after that.” With the practiced hand of a pro, she flicked opened a two-seater stroller.
“Let’s play tomorrow by ear,” he said, depositing his tiny cargo.
“By ear…oh…okay.”
He stood to find her grinning, which made him grin.
“Why are we smiling at each other?”
“You’re in love.”
Patrick felt his stomach clench like someone just sucker punched him. “I’ve been into other women,” he fudged.
Shaking her head, she turned the stroller about. “Not like this. This one’s different. I actually know her name. And you make plans that force her to spend time with you.”
“I have?” he asked in feigned ignorance.
“Yankee Stadium ring a bell? You didn’t even blink twice when you signed the credit card statement.”
And it was money well spent, he deduced. That night had been the perfect switch and bait to lull her into a false sense of security with a neutral setting. Without her safety net, a little bit of determination, a whole lot of temptation, she failed to see he was waiting to catch her when she fell.
“Considering that look on your face, I won’t be waiting on your call. Buh-bye, playboy.” She strolled past him wiggling her fingers.
Per habit, Patrick watched her call the elevator. The girls liked to play hide and seek while they waited. Hands over their faces, they fanned their dimpled hands open then closed. During their back and forth, his intercom buzzed.
“Hey, you have a couple of visitors,” Langston, the building’s doorman wasn’t big on formality. “One’s from the Dumpling House. The other’s Shoshana Haufman.”
Steam filled Patrick’s veins, thick and warm.
“Send them both up.”
She was standing in his home. The feeling was staggering. He was finding it hard to process this as actual reality. She looked composed but he noted the sharp rise and fall of her plump breasts. Those perfect beauties starred in every one of his wet dreams. As if on command, his mouth watered.
“Time to get undressed.”
Damn! I sound like a jerk. The thought of his bed being only a stone’s throw away had the blood rushing from his brain and straight to his cock.
She didn’t take offense. Her attention was drawn to his coveted view of New York City’s skyline. While he undressed, she padded over for a closer look.
“Now I can see why people pay a premium for this.”
She edged closer, her image reflected in the glass. A strong image clawed into his psyche. Her warm, naked and vulnerable pressed against its cold surface taking him balls deep.
“I’ve guessed you’ve heard that before,” he said, attempting to remain on task.
“Too many times to count.”
As he slid the tailored blazer over his shoulders, Patrick tried to reason away the sudden sharp jab of jealousy. She was a master tailor. Men in all stages of undress came with the job. Still, he’d already begun to think of her as his woman and any man, customer or not, was a sleazy trespasser who made him feel like a knuckle-dragging Neanderthal.
Feeling primal, he stalked over to her. The suit’s tailoring proved to be perfection. Akin to a second skin, it made him feel like a million forms of heartbreak. The appreciative glint reflected in her brown eyes confirmed it, making him feel ten feet tall.
“See something you like?”
She reached out and tweaked his jacket lapel. Her innocent touch making his balls tighten. “Never fails,” she said. “Put a man in one of our suits and they get cocky.” She started to move past him, he caught her wrist.
“I love it when you say cock-y,” he said, meaningful smirk in place.
She seemed to purposefully avoid his gaze. “I have to go.”
“But I ordered take out. I was hoping we could have dinner.”
“I’m sorry but I can’t stay.”
“You can’t or you won’t.”
When she didn’t answer, he looked at her a moment and then dropped her wrist.
“Did I miss something the other day?”
Things were quiet between them and then she said, “I’ve had a change of mind,” she gushed on a heavy exhalation.
“You’ve had a change of mind,” he said very deliberately, anger and hurt burning like hot lead in his stomach. “What could have happened in forty-eight hours? Suffering from buyer’s remorse?”
“Your words not mine.”
He slowly nodded. “I’ve had plenty of experience with fickle women. My mother was the Queen Bitch of Contrary. But with her, I never got closure. Never got the chance to say goodbye.”
Her look of sympathy didn’t dull the blade twisting at his insides.
“Patrick, I—”
“Don’t Patrick me,” he bluntly interposed.
She wasn’t dissuaded. Edging closer, she said, “Then let me give you closure.”
“Say. Goodbye. Shoshana.”
She wrapped her arms around his shoulders. Her soft, body pressed against his made something inside him melt. He hated her so much in that moment but he hated himself even more for still wanting her.
“What are you doing?” he whispered, throat thick with emotion.
“There’s more ways than one to say good-bye.”
She pushed up on her toes and sealed her lips over his.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
The apple didn’t fall far from the tree.
What else could explain his pathetic compliance, this unflinching submission while she had her way with him? He didn’t balk when he heard the snap of his trousers. He didn’t recoil at the soft swish of fabric sliding down his legs. His jacket and shirt were next, each hand-sewn button pulled loose from his stiffly starched shirt. Still, he did nothing to rein her in. Without protest, he’d become her willing victim.
“We match,” she gushed as she straddled him with her thick brown thighs.
Patrick suffered a peak. Her mouthwatering curves were set to their best advantage in a black lacy bra and panties.
“Were you thinking of me when you got dressed this morning?” She ran two fingers along the waistband of his black boxer briefs. The tip of a fingernail brushed the tip of his cock. He trembled. His blood churned and curdled.
“Why such pained face?”
“I’m wondering how this will give me closure.” He lied.
“Tell me you don’t want things to end this way.”
Arms akimbo, her breasts framed in a sexy-ass bra, lips puffy from too many mind-dulling kisses, she couldn’t have been more beautiful at this moment if she tried. Naked would’ve been ideal but her current state of undress was akin to a strip tease. Bra strap hanging, chocolate brown areoles playing peak-a-boo powered his libido.
Squeezing his eyes shut against the heat blasting his senses, he recalled all the dreams he’d had of her. In them, their roles had been reversed. He’d been dominant, she submissive. There was nothing dominant about this abject figure stretched beneath her being used as a warm-blooded dildo. Suddenly prickly at the image, and the inborn fool-for-a-woman gene he’d inherited, he gripped her waist and sat up.
“Up,” he ordered, spanking her bottom lightly so she rose to her knees. The not so gentle maneuvering caused one of her nipples to escape the fragile confines of satin and lace. Already tasting it, he licked his lips.
“I can’t hear you,” she purred, sliding her hand between them, cupping him. “You’re hard. How about I set you free?”
Hissing, Patrick reacted to the sudden rush of cool air against his sensitive skin.
“A little chilly?”
Words escaping him, he nodded.
She wrapped her fingers around him “Can’t have that can we,” she commiserated, tugging gently.
Eyes rolling, Patrick gritted his teeth. Body heat
and gently applied pressure were the perfect catalysts. The blood rushed quickly from his head to between his legs turning him rock solid.
“Very…nice.” With each syllable, her hand moved up then down. His gaze inexorably drawn, he watched. The contrast of her mocha skin against his heightened his natural buzz. His engorged penis arched in her hand. The swollen head stretched tautly toward his belly button.
He wanted in and he wanted in now!
Smiling like a cat that caught the canary, she stood. The mattress wobbled beneath them. He grabbed the backs of her thighs to steady her.
“Thanks,” she murmured.
“Don’t men—”
He couldn’t complete the sentence because she’d stepped out of her panties. And just inches away, precisely at eye level were the pouty lips of her pretty cunt.
Strawberry wrapped in chocolate.
Drawing in a deep restraining breath, he ran his hands up and over the rise of her lush ass. He cupped her, kneaded. The pulsing in his cock spread outward. He could feel the tingling weight of his balls. A drop of pre-cum marked his torso. It took all his concentration to whisper,” Are you ready for one last fuck?”
Her eyes met his and held for a stark, direct moment. “One last time,” she said so softly, he barely heard the words.
“Sit then.” With a deliberate slowness, he lowered her onto him. They were meeting at last after weeks of deliberate abstinence and coy pursuit. Warm, wet and tight, she fit him better than any tailored suit.
“Yes…feels so good,” she rasped. Far from a pillow princess, she rotated her hips at the base of his down strokes. And he kissed her then with a hot, needy desperation. She was walking out of his life, possibly taking his heart with her. He wanted to be remembered for being the best she ever had. If this was to be the last time, he’d make her regret it.
Eyes heavy lidded with passion, she clung to him, her arms wrapped around his shoulders, her legs locked around him. She tucked her head in the crook of his neck and spoke with a tangled tongue. Words when threaded together galvanized him to go harder, deeper and faster. Her fingers dug into his flesh, breaking skin. Instead of complaining, he got off on the pain, doled out some of his own. Jerking her closer, he hammered home, demanding she stretch to accommodate him. It wasn’t enough. He wanted to crawl inside, fill her body every crevice and groove, and imprint himself like a tattoo on her soul.
