“Donald, it’s all your fault. You said you wanted a meal ticket. You said you didn’t want to marry for love and all that other stuff.”
“I got what I wanted, but things have changed. There is so much more. Sometimes I laugh at myself, the man who could get almost any woman he wants ends up with a woman who doesn’t want him. How ironic!” I dug my fork into the potato salad.
“So what? Now you’re going to give up and waste your life drowning yourself in the stupor of alcohol.”
I smiled. Julie was the only person I knew who used the English language in such a formal way.
“Today, I told him I wanted out.” I reluctantly placed the fork down. “And you know what he told me?”
“What?”
“He told me I could leave but I had to leave my son. He told me what I realized all along; he doesn’t care about his daughter or me. But, before that, he raised the price on my son’s head. He offered me a million dollars to change my son’s last name. Do you believe that?” I asked, gazing into Julie’s eyes.
“Donald, did you think he would stop asking to change your son’s last name? Your father-in-law has it all, except an heir to his fortune. He’s a businessman who’s willing to pay whatever the cost to get what he wants. Right now, he wants his grandson. I’ve only met that man once and he gave me the creeps.” Julie ran her hands up and down her elbows.
“Julie, I have to get out. I don’t know how I’m going to do it, but I can’t raise my son in this situation. He’s young now, but he’ll sense the hate soon and I don’t want to guess what that’s going to do to him. I can’t live in that house anymore.”
Julie came over and placed her hand over my head. She took my head and leaned it against her side. I wrapped my arm around her waist. For the first time that day, I felt at peace. I was secure in the arms of my best friend.
Chapter 3
The Brooklyn Marriott was located on Adam Street, a block away from the Brooklyn Bridge. I drove down Atlantic Avenue and turned onto Adam. Taking the local road, I made a right into the underground parking garage. The attendant stopped my car and came over to make his inspection. He asked me to open the trunk and he quickly looked inside. He glanced in the back seat as if expecting to see a big timer with a “BOMB” label. I took the ticket from him and parked my car.
The escalator ascended to the second floor where I made a left into the main dining room. The hostess, a young woman in her early twenties, looked at me as if she was about to have her favorite dessert. She pushed her chest out a little further than necessary, making sure I saw her hard nipples tight against her white shirt.
“Good evening, Sir. Will you be dining by yourself this evening?” she asked as if making a wish.
“Donald, I see you made it on time.”
I turned around to see Donna in tight, dirty jeans, which from the front promised a lot behind. She had no need to push out her chest because her breasts made their own voluptuous statement.
She slipped her hand around my waist, reached up and gave me a kiss on the cheek.
I turned back around to the hostess. Her chest had become flat and the smile she had greeted me with earlier had disappeared.
“Table for two?” she asked.
I nodded in agreement.
“Follow me.” She picked up two menus and walked away.
I followed her, knowing that pairs of eyes would be dissecting us as we walked to the table.
“Will this table be good for you?” the hostess asked. Her name tag said Lisa.
“Thank you, Lisa; this will be fine,” I replied.
The earlier smile that had disappeared when Donna walked in came back with a vengeance. “Your waiter will be over shortly. Feel free to come over and ask me anything you want to know about our hotel. We’re presently offering a twenty percent discount on rooms for corporate accounts.” She walked away, putting as much swing as possible into her pancake butt.
“Why didn’t she just give you the keys to the room?” Donna stated with sarcasm.
“A little jealous?” I joked.
“Jealous, not really,” she said, taking the menu and opening it up.
“Good afternoon, Sir, Madam.” The waiter was a middle-aged white man with a deep, Russian accent. “Can I get you something to drink while you peruse the menu?”
“No, thank you. We’ll order in a minute,” I said.
“Where do they get these people from? We haven’t sat down a minute and they’re in your face. Didn’t he see us looking at the menus?” Donna said, sounding exasperated.
“We’re obviously not at the Waldorf in Manhattan,” I answered, noticing the waiter standing a few feet away staring at me.
“Should we drink the water and leave?” Donna asked, returning the waiter’s penetrating gaze. “Or should I order the chicken sandwich? It looks delicious.”
“I’ve had it before. It’s very good. Today I think I’ll have the salmon sandwich. It’s difficult to mess up salmon.” I closed the menu.
“You obviously haven’t been to Fish and Things on Jessup Avenue. I had the worst salmon in my life there,” she replied, putting down her menu.
I lifted my right hand up and the waiter hurried over. I placed the order for both of us, repeating it twice as the waiter fumbled with his pen.
“What’s the occasion? This isn’t our usual meeting place,” I said, as our eyes connected.
I had fucked Donna four more times since our initial encounter in the office. Unlike the first encounter, those sessions were long and exciting. I had put in some wonderful work on that woman.
“It’s time,” she said.
The waiter had remembered and placed the correct dishes in front of us.
“Will that be all? Something to drink?” he asked.
“Water is fine,” Donna answered.
“We have bottled water, if you would like.”
“Just leave us alone,” I finally said, beginning to get annoyed.
“Call me if you need anything,” he replied and disappeared behind the large door leading to the kitchen.
“He’s pissing me off!” Donna said, separating her precut sandwich into two halves.
“Time for what?” I brought her back to her original statement.
“Donald, did you think that I got together with you because of your looks?” she asked. “Yeah, I’m sure you did. You put me in the cage with those chicken-heads out there.”
“I didn’t put you anywhere,” I said; not liking where our conversation was headed.
“Of course you didn’t, but all you men do the same thing.”
I was curious. “What’s that?”
“Think with your dicks and lie with your mouth. Donald, let me give you some advice. Never fool yourself into thinking that you know what a woman wants.” She bit into her sandwich.
I wasn’t expecting anything but occasional sex from Donna. She never once mentioned anything else. She would call me and, if I was available, I would go. We rarely talked about our home lives and we had completed the project at her office.
She showed her hearty appetite by tearing into the sandwich. I looked at her as she ate, making sure that she chewed completely before swallowing. And when she did swallow, everything was gone. I began getting excited by mentally replacing my dick for the food.
“Your dick is thinking again,” she said. “How’s your wife?”
“The same as your husband, I suppose.”
“He’s at home, happy in bed, waiting for me to come to the house and fuck him until he pledges undying love to me,” she said, a soft smile forming on her perfectly shaped lips. “Is your wife at home picking pussy hairs from between her teeth?”
“What do you know about my wife?”
“I know she likes the beaver more than she likes the dog.”
“And?”
“How did you happen to have Emerald? By the way, he looks exactly like you. Was she drunk that night?” Donna said, finishing up the fries that came wit
h the sandwich.
“What do you want from me?” I asked, feeling like the only one naked in this conversation.
“The only time you used your head for the right thing, you ended up getting fucked, didn’t you?” Donna started on the other half of the sandwich.
I finished the first half of mine and pushed it away from the table.
“Only a man would get caught up with a lesbian. You should have known by the way she looked at your dick that she preferred pussy. I realized that from the first time I met her. Why did you think she kept her eyes focused on you? Do you think it was because she was so much in love? No, my friend, it was the only way for her not to stare at women.”
“When did you meet my wife?”
“Is that important?” she asked.
“Maybe.”
“It’s terrible living at home, isn’t it? On one hand, there’s your son whose blood runs in you. On the other, your wife and her abusive lover whom you despise. Poor Donald; he doesn’t even own the car he drives. Is that enough?” she asked.
“If there’s more, feel free to continue,” I said, looking at her empty plate. It seemed like the entire world had me undressed.
“It’s time,” Donna said, eyeing my half-eaten sandwich.
I pushed my plate toward her. “On second thought, take this bullshit home to your husband.”
Donna’s face became contorted. “You ready to go upstairs?”
“What’s upstairs for me?”
“Freedom for you and your son; if you play your cards right.”
“The cost?”
“Maybe nothing; maybe everything. It’s your choice. You can get up and walk out right now and continue to live life as usual. Or you can go up to the room with me and take a chance at freedom. I’ll be in suite 531.” She drank the rest of the water and motioned for the waiter to come over. She signed for the check and walked out of the restaurant.
The elevator took me to the fifth floor. Donna and I had never been to this hotel but, in the relatively short time it had been open, I had been here on five occasions; each time with a different woman. The last time had been with Nicole, a doctor at Kings County Hospital in Brooklyn. Nicole had recently moved to Clinton Hill and, after numerous dates with men labeled “assholes” by her, we had connected at the newly opened Susan’s Cafe on Flatbush Avenue.
My shoes sank down into the plush red carpet as I exited the elevator. Arrows pointed both right and left with various ranges of room numbers. Suite 531 was the last room on the right; next to an exit door. As I walked down the hallway, I wondered exactly what Donna had in mind for me. I knocked three times on the door and waited. I had never been nervous about entering a hotel room, but there was something different that day. It seemed that I would be expected to do more than stick my dick in a piece of pussy.
“The door is open. Come in and lock it behind you,” I heard Donna say through the thick door.
I turned the knob and walked in. The light in the hallway reflected against a mirrored closet. I stopped and glanced at myself in the mirror. My stomach felt a little pudgy from the meal, but it was not reflected in the mirror. I ran my fingers through my hair before proceeding. The living room had a desk and two sofas. There was an additional table with four chairs; for meetings, I assumed. I heard two women’s voices coming from behind a closed door located on the left side of the room.
Donna’s voice, the softer of the two, came from behind the doors. “We’re in here.”
I pulled the door open and stepped into the bedroom. Donna was seated on the bed in a short nightgown that didn’t cover much. Her back was against the headboard and in her hand was a full glass of what I presumed to be liquor. Her long legs extended off the bed into the lap of the same white woman that I had seen the first time Donna and I had fucked at her job. The white woman’s glass was half-empty. I looked over at the bottle chilling in the bucket. It was a bottle of Dom Perignon and next to it was a glass filled with ice.
Donna extended her hand toward the white woman. “Donald, this is Kathleen.”
“Donald, Donna has told me so much about you,” Kathleen said, pushing out her right hand to mine.
“Is that so?” I said, taking her hand and kissing it. “Anything worth proving?”
“Not necessarily worth proving, but definitely worth experiencing,” she said, putting down her glass and taking the one next to the bucket and filling it up.
“Come, Donald, sit on the bed.” Donna gestured to the space vacated by Kathleen. I sat down on the firm, king-sized bed as Kathleen handed me a drink.
“You like Dom Perignon?” she asked as she went over to the dresser and leaned on it.
“Anything but Cristal. It seems once a rapper puts a drink in a song the drink becomes diluted,” I replied.
“Donna wasn’t sure that you’d come, but I think she teased you enough. They say if you tease a man, he will go to the ends of the earth to find out what’s behind it. In this case, all you had to do was take the elevator to the fifth floor.” Kathleen twirled her drink with her finger, then sucked the liquid from it.
“Are we fucking, planning an assassination, or are we going to sit here and bullshit?” I asked, looking over at Kathleen’s creamy thighs and her pencil-thin lips that I could imagine impaled on Donna’s labia.
“What’s the rush, Donald? You’re not invited to the party at home,” Donna said, running her fingers over her nipples. “We’re here for a lot more than fucking. Pussies and dicks are a dime a dozen; as you know. This here is a lifetime opportunity. I picked you because I know your history and, as the junk emails would say, you need a change.”
Donna took her toes and ran them down the back of my head.
“I’m listening,” I said as Kathleen, with those long, beautiful legs and blonde pussy hairs, approached the bed. I had heard that a lot of white woman dyed their pubic hair.
“It’s not dyed,” she said, as if reading my mind.
“I’m not selling shampoo, so I really don’t care,” I replied as I pulled her toward me.
Donna reached over my shoulders and started to loosen my shirt.
“What would you do for freedom?” Donna said, as she ran her hands down my T-shirt.
“There are many jails. I don’t want to exchange mine for another one.”
“I think you were right, Donna. He is the right one,” Kathleen said as she shoved her right nipple into my mouth. I sucked on it slowly, occasionally biting it to make her wince. I reached my hand around, grabbed a handful of Kathleen’s hair and pulled her down to her knees.
She unbuckled my pants and swiftly yanked both them and my boxers off. By now my penis had already risen to the occasion.
“We’re planning a robbery,” Donna whispered in my ear.
Kathleen was all gums.
“How much?” I asked, standing, and in the process taking my dick out of Kathleen’s mouth.
“Twenty million dollars in untraceable bonds,” Kathleen said, her mouth finally free to speak.
I took my right hand and grabbed her shiny, bouncing blonde hair, and as I lifted her up, I took my left hand and pushed Donna back down on the bed. I don’t know if I pushed Kathleen between Donna’s legs or if Donna’s pussy lips were a vacuum. All I know was that air couldn’t separate Kathleen’s mouth from Donna’s pussy.
“Who is it?” I asked, running my hands over Kathleen’s white ass. I slid my fingers between the furls of her blonde pubic hair. The liquid from her wetness trailed down my finger like a wet sponge. I wiped my hands on the bed and pulled out the green Trojan condoms that had become my trademark. I slipped my fingers back into Kathleen and used her juices to add extra lubrication to the condom. Pussy eating wasn’t my thing. If a woman wanted her pussy eaten, she could find another woman to do that. I was here for one thing only and that was my dick. I tapped Kathleen on her Lucille Roberts twice-a-week exercised ass and she spread her legs to allow maximum penetration.
“We want you to rob my b
oss, Kathleen’s husband,” Donna said as I sent my dick into Kathleen’s depths. I should have stopped fucking, put on my clothes and gotten the fuck out of there. That was the wise thing to do.
I didn’t do the wise thing. “Is he carrying?”
I continued to go in and out of Kathleen, alternating between short strokes and long to the point of coming out and back inside of her. Her moans were muffled by her mouth being deep into Donna.
“He’s scared of guns, but he’s well-connected—they will be close. Timing is everything. Something goes wrong and we are dead.”
The only person who was out of this conversation was Kathleen and it was obvious why.
“What’s the split? Not saying that I’m interested, but I need to know the split.”
Donna was pushing her butt up in the air as Kathleen continued to do her thing.
“Sixty-forty. Kathleen doesn’t care. She’s got money and nothing can come her way.”
“So what’s in it for her?” I asked, as if Kathleen wasn’t even there.
“Seeing that fucker suffer.” Kathleen took her mouth away from Donna’s twat for a few seconds. “I want to stab him in the back. If he gets crippled, he’s not going anywhere.
My dick evaporated faster than the chemical weapons in Iraq.
“Peter wants to divorce me. Who does he think he is?” Kathleen said with an angry scowl on her face. The long bouncing blonde hair had become matted from our activities. “He wants to give me up over some bitch he claims to be in love with. I’ve done everything that man asked me to do. I did the wife-swapping thing. He introduced me to eating pussy; and this is my reward. I don’t care who he fucks, but don’t end the relationship over some bitch.”
“After we’re finished with him, he won’t leave you,” Donna chimed in.
“Do you know what it’s like to be divorced in the suburbs? If you’re not Mrs. Whatever, you’re nothing. It’s like having AIDS in the eighties. I can’t let him leave me,” she said, burying her head on the table and sobbing uncontrollably.
Donna hugged Kathleen as the woman wept and that led to Donna sliding down on the chair in front of Kathleen. My dick got hard again and I slipped on another condom. I slid down between Donna’s feet so as not to interrupt them. I lifted her ass up and she dropped down onto my dick. A floor below us, they were lifting weights, while I was up here lifting ass.
Tears on a Sunday Afternoon Page 3
