by Zane
“What the hell do you mean, you have to go?”
“I have to get home. Enjoy the rest of your movie.” I was gathering my coat and purse.
He started getting loud with me in the theater. “You’re crazy! Always running away! You’re just going to come in here, suck my dick, and leave?”
“Shhhh! Keep your voice down. Yes, that’s exactly what I’m about to do. Leave.”
“Forget this movie. Let’s go back to my place. I want to be with you.” He started feeling all over my thighs, trying to get his hand between my legs, but I wouldn’t let him.
“Quinton, I have to go. It’s been real, and thanks for the, ummmm, whatever you want to call it.”
He sat there shaking his head as I made my way to the center aisle. I turned back toward him. “Besides, I owed you that from the last time. One good lick deserves another.”
When I got in my car and started the ignition, Quinton startled me by preventing me from shutting the driver’s side with his hand.
“Zoe, you can’t leave me like that,” he said seductively, making me weak in the knees even though I was sitting down. “Let’s go back to my place and talk. Just talk.”
“I can’t, Quinton. I really do need to get home. It’s getting late.” I was determined to hold my ground until he started running his fingers through my hair and I lost it.
“Come take a ride with me,” he suggested. “I want to show you something special.”
“Something like what?” I inquired, full of curiosity.
“Something I’m positive you will like.” He could tell I was about to give in and leaned over to cut off my engine and remove my keys. He pulled me up out of the car. “There’s one little condition though.”
“Which is?” I asked with a raised eyebrow.
“Let me blindfold you.”
Now common sense should have told me to take my ass home, but I didn’t. I followed him to his car, got in, and sat there patiently while he looked in the back for something to cover my eyes with.
“Can I please take this blindfold off now?” Quinton had stopped his car and walked around to open up the passenger door for me. I could feel the cool night air rush inside, in direct contrast to the heat that had warmed up the interior of the car during the ride over.
“Not yet,” Quinton replied. “Give me your hand.”
I reached my hand out. He pulled me up and out of the car. The first thing I realized was that we were standing on some sort of gravel. Now I knew what the noise had been when I heard something hitting up against his tires a few seconds before the car came to a halt. “Where are we, Quinton?”
“Practice some patience, my dear.” He led me by the hand and pushed my hips backward so I was sitting on the hood of the car, the engine still warm underneath my bottom. “I want to make sure your first look is a perfect one.”
“My first look at what?” I was getting nervous. Why, I have no idea. I had just got finished waxing his dick in a movie theater, after all. That’s the one thing I was sure he wasn’t planning to show me. I already had an eagle’s-eye view of that bad boy. “Come on, take the blindfold off, please!”
“Just one more second.” I heard him walking around, and then the driver’s-side door opened. A minute later I heard “Got to Give It Up” by Marvin Gaye blaring from the car stereo. Before I knew it, Quinton kissed me gently on the nape of my neck and climbed on the hood beside me. “I used to listen to this song all the time when I was a kid, eleven years old to be exact. I would bring a little tape player out here and play it over and over again while I worked.”
“Worked?” I was completely lost. “You had a job when you were eleven?”
“Sort of,” he replied, untying the blindfold and letting it fall in my lap. “I was working on this.”
My mouth fell open in awe at the vision before me. We were by the railroad tracks in SWATS beside an old, deteriorated and abandoned warehouse. Quinton’s headlights were on, illuminating the most magnificent mural I had ever seen. I covered my mouth to keep my tongue from falling out while I climbed down off the hood to take a closer look.
“Oh, my goodness, Quinton! You did this when you were eleven years old?”
“I started it when I was eleven,” he replied. “It took me almost five years to finish it, though. It’s the first mural I ever painted, and the most special.”
The mural was of an African-American family sitting around a gigantic wooden table eating dinner— everything from a big, juicy turkey to corn on the cob to collard greens. A huge fire blazed in the background, both a cat and a dog were sitting on the hearth, playing with a ball of red yarn together. The features of the people were so intense, so descriptive, right down to the wrinkles on the mother’s brow. There were five people in the picture: a man, a woman, and three beautiful children. The youngest little boy resembled Quinton so much, there was no mistaking it was him.
“Is this a mural of your family, Quinton?”
“No, my family was fucked the hell up.” I turned around in astonishment, not expecting such a negative response. The pain was written all over his face. “My father left my mother for a white woman when I was five. My mother let herself go after that until there was nothing left. When I was nine, she killed herself. She slit her wrists over the kitchen sink while she was washing dishes. Just decided she had endured enough bullshit from everyone, I suppose.”
I rushed back over to him and drew him into my arms, letting his head rest against my shoulder. “I’m so sorry to hear that.”
I kissed him on the forehead and he drew away. “Why are you sorry? You didn’t have a damn thing to do with it.”
An uneasy feeling began to wash over me. There was anger in his voice, bordering on hatred. I began to wonder what I was doing there in the first place. I should’ve been home with my husband and kids, where I belonged. “Why did you bring me here, Quinton?”
“Because I wanted you to see it,” he answered in a low, husky voice. “I’ve never shown this to anyone before. Not ever.”
“It’s beautiful,” I stated cautiously. “Who are the people-in the picture?”
“They’re the family I wished I had. They’re the family I should’ve had. Instead, my older brother and sister and I ended up living with our grandmother. She tried the best she could, but her heart was broken after my mother’s suicide. I think every time she looked at us, it reminded her of her own failures. She always blamed herself for my mother, but it wasn’t her fault. It was that bitch-ass father of mine who did it.” He walked over to the wall and started fingering his mother’s eyes lightly. “Do you know that bastard didn’t even have the decency to come to her funeral? He was off in Hawaii with that white bitch of his, lying on the fucking beach!”
“I’m so sorry, Quinton!”
“Stop saying you’re sorry, dammit!” he screamed at me. I started trembling in fear. He must’ve recognized it, because he came over and wrapped his arms around my waist. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“I’m okay,” I replied hesitantly. “I just can’t think of any other words.”
He looked me deep in my eyes. “Then don’t say any more words.”
Our kiss began, and to this day, I’m not sure where the passion in my lips came from. All I know is it did, and it was earth-shattering. Before I knew it, we were both naked, making love on the hood of his car. We didn’t say another word to each other. The whole time I kept staring into the eyes of the woman in the picture, wondering how much pain she must have been in to take her own life that way.
Quinton and I exploded in unison. I struggled to breathe because I had never had an orgasm like that before, not even when I masturbated, and trust me, I had that shit down to a science.
Quinton finally broke the silence. “Zoe, I know that this is wrong,” he whispered, sucking gently on my left nipple. “I shouldn’t have these feelings for another man’s wife, but I do.” At that point, I didn’t know what my true feelings were, so I remained mute. “I just want you
to know that I don’t have any great expectations. I just want to be with you whenever and wherever I can.”
My mind flashed back to Jason. I pictured him sitting at home in his drawing room, waiting patiently for me to come home to him. I pictured my kids tucked snugly in their beds, dreaming of faraway lands and fairy princesses. I sat up abruptly and started feeling around for my clothes so I could get dressed.
“Quinton, I don’t know what to say right now. Something special just happened between us. I realize that, and just so you know, I’ve never cheated on my husband before.”
He ran his fingers through my hair. “I know you haven’t.” He started sucking on my earlobe, and my body yearned to give in to his desires all over again. “I know this is confusing, but we can make this work, somehow.”
I got lost in his eyes and I could have sworn my heart stopped beating for a brief second. “Can we go back to the theater to get my car now? Please?”
“Sure thing.” He put on his clothes, and we rode back to the theater in silence. He rewound the Marvin Gaye tape and sang the words so low they were barely audible.
When we were pulling into the parking lot, I asked him, “What ever happened to your brother and sister, Quinton?”
“I’d really rather not discuss that right now,” he replied, taking my hand and kissing my fingers one at a time. “We’ll talk about it later.”
I let it go. He saw me to my car and made me promise to be in touch soon. I reluctantly promised. What I should’ve done is told him to stay away from me. That I was no good. That we were no good together.
When I got home, everyone was asleep. I took a quick shower to rinse away my sins and joined Jason in bed. He draped his arm and leg over me and whispered, “I love you,” in my ear, halfway between being awake and being asleep. I kept my back to him and stayed awake for the remainder of the night, letting the tears trickle down my cheeks onto the pillowcase.
chapter
fifteen
Quinton and I started seeing-each other on a regular basis after that, and while I felt guilty, I couldn’t stop. It felt too damn good. I stayed away from him for about three days after the little movie theater/train yard episode, and then I decided to go over to his place. I must admit I knew he and I would end up fucking if I went over there. That was exactly what I wanted, and that was exactly what I got.
It was about dusk when I showed up at Quinton’s loft. He answered the door wearing an apron, and the aroma of his cooking hit me as soon as I got off the elevator.
“Zoe, what a pleasant surprise! Come on in!” He moved aside so I could enter his loft.
“Did I catch you at a bad time?”
“No, not at all. In fact, your timing is perfect. Now I don’t have to eat alone.”
“Well, I’m not really that hungry, but I could use a glass of wine if you have one.”
“Sure! Have a seat, and I’ll be right back.”
He went into the kitchen and returned a moment later with a bottle of red wine and two wineglasses. He poured me a glass and walked over to the sofa to hand it to me. “Zoe, take your shoes off. Make yourself at home.”
“Thanks, I will.” I kicked my black high-heeled pumps off and leaned back on the sofa to sip on the wine. “So, what you got cooking?”
“I decided to try this recipe for lasagna I saw on a cable cooking show earlier today.”
I started giggling. “You watch cooking shows? Wow, you are full of surprises.”
“Yes, I do.” He starting eyeing me all over again, and for the first time, it didn’t make me feel uncomfortable in the least. After sucking his dick with nacho cheese on it, among other things, shyness was no longer an option. “Let me go take it out of the oven so we can talk.”
“Okay!”
I decided to be nosy again and took a peek at his easel. He had removed the portrait of the governor and replaced it with a portrait of a beautiful African-American woman. I was immediately jealous. “She’s the wife of a friend. She asked me to paint her portrait as an anniversary gift for him.”
“That’s cool.”
He walked up behind me and covered the portrait back up with the oilcloth. “Don’t worry, baby. This dick’s for you.”
“Hmm, is that right?”
He started blowing in my ear. “Damn skippy.”
He took me by the hand and started leading me up the steps. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“Taking you to bed. You have a problem with that?”
“As a matter of fact, I do. You’re trippin’, assuming I came over here to fuck you.” I pulled my hand away from his, and he came closer to me, pressing his chest against mine and grabbing me around the waist.
“That is what you came over here for, isn’t it?”
“Hell naw! I hate to bruise your male ego but I came over here to discuss business.” He and I both knew I was full of shit.
“Yeah right, Zoe.”
“Hmm, well, whatever. I should be going now because you’re buggin’.” I started walking over to where my shoes were so I could put them on when he picked me up and flung me over his left shoulder. My ass was all up in his face. “What the hell?”
He carried me up the steps, flung me down on his queen-size waterbed, and started undressing me. “Listen, Quinton, I didn’t come here for this. For real!”
“Then look me in the eyes, Zoe, and tell me you don’t want me.” He and I gazed at each other, and I wanted to tell him I didn’t want him, but the words wouldn’t come. “Enough said. We already crossed the line the other night, Zoe. There’s no turning back now. We need to finish the feelings.”
Quinton got me totally undressed and then removed all his clothes as well. The neon sign at the hotel across the street was blinking steadily, and flashes of red outlined his body as he stood at the foot of the bed. He spread my legs open with his hands, and after that we didn’t say a word to each other. We just fucked.
He ate my pussy again and then stood on the edge of the bed. I figured out he was waiting on a blow job, so I complied and loved sucking it. When he came in my mouth, I was in heaven and probably moaned louder than he did. He started fucking me, and by the time Quinton fucked me for twenty minutes, I was a maniac. I began to think my lack of experience showed, especially when he pulled me on top of him and I froze. I had no idea how to ride a dick. I was used to the missionary position only.
I gave it a try. He helped me by guiding my hips up and down until I got the hang of it. I had remembered reading somewhere to tighten my muscles while I’m on top, and I did that. He started moaning real loud while I contracted my pussy muscles on his dick. I was so proud of myself. It may sound silly, but being sexually repressed as long as I was and finally getting fucked the right way twice in one week was one of the most stimulating events of my life.
The next six months were filled with confusion, guilt, and a newfound sexual freedom. Quinton took me to heights I had never known physically, and frankly, I became a nymphomaniac. There weren’t enough hours in the day to have sex, and when I wasn’t with Quinton and Jason was ignoring me as usual, I began to masturbate ten times more than usual.
I even masturbated with an umbrella once in my car. It was a rainy day, and I had to pull over because it was pouring down too hard to drive. I parked underneath an underpass and didn’t make it five minutes without playing with myself. My obsession with sex was getting way out of hand, but it was beyond my control.
Quinton was just as creative sexually as he was with a paintbrush. He taught me so much about sex, including how to 72, a variation of the old 69, where three fingers are inserted into the ass for extended pleasure. He turned me on to liquid latex. We poured it over each other’s bodies and let it harden before we fucked each other. The only parts that weren’t covered were my nipples, my pussy, my ass, and his dick. It was a wild sensation. It felt like wearing a tight, full-body mask. I loved it.
Everything was going great. I had the husband of my dreams, who
loved me and was a great father to our kids, and I had the lover of my dreams as well. Everything was perfect, or so I thought.
“Zoe, sit still.”
“I’m trying to, but my back is itching.” I was sitting on one of the velvet-covered crates, posing for Quinton while he painted a portrait of me. It was the second one. He had already painted one and hung it over his bed, just like he said he would. He wanted another one to hang in the studio itself.
“Okay, let me scratch it for you then.” He put down his paint palette and came over to put me out my misery.
I started laughing while he scratched my bare back. “That tickles!”
I was nude from the waist up, having agreed to let Quinton paint me that way. I was becoming bolder by the day. “Zoe?”
“Yes?”
I thought he was going to say something like he wanted to fuck or wanted to go out and grab a bite to eat, but never in a million years could I have been prepared for what came out of his mouth. “I want you to leave him.”
“Umm, say what?” I was frozen like a Popsicle.
“I want you to leave your husband and move in here with me. I want you to do it like yesterday.”
I got up from the crate and put on Quinton’s silk bathrobe I had laying nearby. “Quinton, you know I can’t leave Jason! Not now! Not ever!”
“I see. Well, then, Zoe, we have a serious problem.”
I started caressing his dick through his pants. “No, we don’t have any problems, Boo.”
“Stop it!” He pushed my hand away from his crotch and walked over to the window. “This isn’t working out anymore. I need you to be here with me all night, every night. Not just when it suits you. This isn’t fair to me.”
“Quinton, you knew from jump I was married. Why did you get involved with me if you wanted more?”
He turned around, looked at me, and threw his hands up in the air. “Hell if I know. I just had to have you. From the moment I first laid eyes on you, I knew you were the one.”
“Well, I can’t be the one. Not in that way.” I started up the steps to get dressed. “I’ll leave and I won’t ever bother you again if you don’t want me to. I promise. I’m sorry, Quinton. I never expected things to turn out like this.”
