Nude Awakening II

by Victor L. Martin

  Tahkiyah Lloyd Bradford. HT: 5’4”* WT: 120* Eye: Hazel * Race: Black * DOB: 8/11/58

  “A bet is a bet, Trevon.” She smiled, sliding her sunglasses back on.

  “How do I know you’re not crazy?”

  She laughed, strolling back to her car. “If somebody is going to be crazy it might just be you,” she said over her shoulder. As she slid behind the wheel, she motioned him over.

  “And what will I be going crazy over?” he asked, feeling challenged by her.

  “I’ll let my actions speak louder than words.” She lifted her sunglasses and boldly looked between his legs. “But I’m willing to bet again.” She lowered the sunglasses. “That this sugar is so good and sweet that you won’t last no longer than . . . five minutes.”

  Trevon’s dick was already making its choice known by growing under his jeans. He had never met a woman in her class. He couldn’t back down.

  “I’m in need of some attention, Trevon. Come to the Mondrian. I’ll leave a note for you with my room number. And if you are man enough to show up and honor your bet, I’ll be waiting.” She revved the engine twice and then backed out of the driveway leaving Trevon speechless.

  Her challenge and bet flooded his mind. On his way to Hooters, he was compelled to prove Tahkiyah wrong.

  ***

  Around 3 pm, Trevon’s ego had him at the front desk at the Mondrian Hotel. As promised, a message in a sealed perfume scented envelope was handed to Trevon by the staff.

  ***

  Tahkiyah was given a five minute heads up of Trevon’s arrival by the same hotel staff that had slid the message to Trevon. Her body tingled with excitement over the possibilities that could happen between herself and Trevon. She moved quickly, spraying the scent of her perfume in her wake. I have to go through with this, she thought for the hundredth time. By the bed she checked to make sure the ice hadn’t melted too much in the shiny chrome bucket. The bottle of Moscato wasn’t her top choice of drink, but today it would suit the moment. The two wine glasses were spotless, the bed was made, the curtains were shut with the lights down low and most important, Tahkiyah was wanting, open to dealing with her sexual needs. She viewed Trevon as an object. Being with him would simply be mixing business with pleasure. Stopping to view her reflection in the mirror, she checked her hair too.

  A knock at the door was sudden, making Tahkiyah’s heart miss a beat. Rushing to the door, she had to lift up on her barefooted toes to peek through the viewing glass. Her nipples grew at the sight of Trevon out in the hallway. Taking a quick deep breath, she opened the door.

  Trevon knew the 4-1-1 when he laid his eyes on Tahkiyah. He viewed her as a temptress that he couldn’t resist. Her body was coated with a sheer white teddy, black lace trimmed panties, and a black garter set that connected to some black knee-high fishnet stockings. Even her glasses added to her charm and sexiness.

  “I see you came,” she said softly.

  “Not yet,” he replied, making her smile.

  “Well, come on in.” She motioned him inside.

  Trevon stood by the TV as she locked the door. He couldn’t take his eyes off her pert, light brown ass. The panties bit enticingly into her flesh.

  “Do you know the key to pleasing a woman, Trevon?” she asked, crossing to where he stood.

  “Yeah, communication,” he said, playing it cool.

  She came to a stop in front of him. His size alone made her pussy moist. “Good answer. And can you explain it?”

  “All women don’t like the same thing. Some like it rough, some like it soft and slow.”

  “Continue,” she said, reaching under his white tee. What she felt was a rippled sea of hard muscles.

  “Knowing what a woman wants makes it easier to take care of her needs.”

  “And which is more important? The want or the need?” She trapped his nipples between her thumbs and index fingers.

  “The need,” he said, sliding his hands up the black elastic strap running down the front of her leg.

  Tahkiyah pulled his white tee up. “Oh my gosh!” she moaned, licking her wet lips at the sight of his chiseled stomach. Unable to control herself, she took his left nipple in a soft grip with her lips.

  Trevon stayed calm, but lowered his hands to caress her ass gently. Not once did her age cross his mind. She painted his hairless chest with licks and kisses. Her hands explored his chest, arms, stomach, and back. His white tee came off first. No more words were needed to explain what they both wanted.

  “I’m not a fan of wearing bras,” she moaned as he inched the hem of the teddy up her waist.

  Trevon was dying to get between her legs and crush. Precum stained his boxers, and she had yet to touch him below his belt. The passion between them moved to another level when Trevon cupped her pussy through the thin panties. She was hot and damp. Tahkiyah’s knees got weak as he massaged her sex while sucking her ear.

  “Take—” she moaned, clinging to his wide shoulders, “a shower with me first.”

  ***

  “Pick up the phone, Trevon!” Jurnee muttered as she sped west along the East-West expressway. When his voicemail picked up, she ended the call by voice command. Switching lanes, she mashed the gas, rocketing past a green SUV in the right lane. The throaty exhaust note matched the 563 horses under the hood. Jurnee wheeled the attention grabbing SLS over the posted speed limit without thought. At her speed, the chrome rims turned into a blur, giving an illusion of them spinning backward. Her state of mind didn’t register the speedometer creeping past 90 miles per hour. She kept pushing the SLS, jumping lanes without using the turn signal. Horns sounded in protest in the wake of the speeding Benz. Trevon was thick on her mind. A single tear broke from the corner of her eye. She gripped the wheel, her foot still adding pressure to the gas pedal. Smoothly, the SLS broke the triple digit barrier.

  “Call Trevon!” she shouted at the voice activated Bluetooth system. Tears started to blur her vision. I have to tell him, she thought. If I don’t, I’m no better than Kandi, and he—

  Before she could finish her thought, two things happened simultaneously that broke her concentration on the road. First, Trevon answered her second call. And with his voice in her ears, a Florida State Trooper appeared behind the SLS with its light bar flashing. Jurnee gasped at the police, and then her speed. For 3.5 seconds, her eyes had left the road while she was moving at 102 miles per hour. When her mind snapped to the present, she stood up on the brakes only five seconds before she rear-ended a moving van.

  ***

  At the same time, Trevon didn’t have the time to wonder why Jurnee had hung up. Shrugging, he pulled his socks off and then joined Tahkiyah in the shower.

  ***

  Unbeknownst to Kandi, she was two floors above Trevon at the Mondrian Hotel. She felt troubled with having to face Trevon. Jurnee was right. Running away from Trevon wasn’t the answer. Sulking alone in the suite, she lay back on the large bed gazing at the ceiling. Needing something to do, she reached for her laptop on the bedside table. She placed it on her stomach, opened it, and then powered it up. Once she logged on, she saw a new e-mail waiting to be read. With a soft touch of the e-mail icon, she waited a mere one second for the e-mail to fill the screen.

  To: Kandi@aef.com

  From: Tbradford@aol.com

  Subject: You and I

  Date: 2/8/12 11:10 p.m.

  God’s will this message will reach you. I’ve been meaning to sit down and type this ever since I got your e-mail. There are things I need to tell you face to face, and all I seek is your understanding, for we all make mistakes that we have to live with. In my case, I lived with mine for too long. I hope to hear from you soon. Here’s my # 202-914-2018

  Tahkiyah Bradford

  CHAPTER

  Twenty-Seven

  I Ain’t a Killa . . . But Don’t Push Me

  Fritz looked at his Swiss Hublot timepiece when a knock sounded at the door of his suite. His guest was on time, not a minute late at 4:30 pm.
>
  Getting up from the table, he filled his hand with a new silencer fitted 9-millimeter pistol. The Glock-19 he had used on D-Hot and Brooke Vee was in three pieces, rusting at the bottom of the Biscayne Bay. He treated his used weapons like used condoms. They were only good for a onetime use. Knowing the security was tight at the Fontainebleau, Fritz would still keep his guard up at all times. To his surprise, he saw Swagga standing alone out in the hallway. Just to be sure, he looked through the peephole again. Clicking the safety off, he waited to open the door until a middle-aged couple cleared the hall.

  “Where’s Rick?” Fritz asked Swagga as he motioned him inside with the gun.

  “We don’t need ‘im,” Swagga replied, looking at the piece Fritz held in plain view.

  “What’s in the bag?” Fritz glanced in the hallway and then closed the door.

  “Money.”

  “Get against the wall so I can pat you down and I won’t ask twice.”

  “Chill, yo! Whut the fuck!” Swagga complained, shoving his hoodie off his head.

  Fritz roughly shoved Swagga up against the wall. “Drop the bag and don’t move.” Fritz held the 9-millimeter against Swagga’s spine, while moving the blue leather Louis Stewart bag with his foot. “Why did you come alone?” Fritz asked, frisking Swagga with one hand.

  “I can handle my own gotdamn business. And, yo, I thought you was from the islands. Where yo’ accent?” Swagga asked with his face against the wall.

  “I’m bi-accented,” Fritz said sarcastically. “Turn around and keep your hands on your head.”

  Swagga turned to Fritz, masking his face with a mean grill. He stiffened when the tip of the silencer pressed against his throat. It stayed in that same spot as Fritz thoroughly patted Swagga down. Once he was sure that Swagga was unarmed, he relaxed.

  “Dis how you do business?” Swagga said, fixing his gear.

  “I hate rap,” Fritz told him. “How much is in the bag?”

  “Thirty thou.”

  “Dump it on the bed. If it’s all there—then we can talk business.”

  “And if it ain’t?”

  “Then I’ll consider you a threat, and you won’t live to see tomorrow.”

  Swagga snatched the heavy LS bag off the floor and stomped over to the bed. Fritz kept his gun on Swagga until the money was spread out over the bed.

  “Okay, have a seat at the table,” Fritz said a few minutes later. Being patient and true to his threat, he forced Swagga to count every single bill.

  Swagga adjusted his Gucci headband as he joined Fritz at the table.

  “I had a flight leaving tonight,” Fritz began. “But I must assume you need something taken care of?”

  Swagga nodded while trying to give off the right vibes. Sure, Fritz was looking like a preppy dude in the dress shoes, black slacks, and a green linen shirt, but Swagga wasn’t fooled. “It’s a nigga by the name of Trevon. He’s a porn star.”

  Fritz nodded. He picked up a black felt humidor. “Would you enjoy one?” Fritz had opened the humidor, revealing six cheroot Havana cigars.

  “Hell yeah!” Swagga picked one out, looking at the square cut on both ends.

  “It’s a cheroot. It’s the way its cut that makes it a cheroot. For example, if it was tapered at both ends, it’s a perfecto,” Fritz explained.

  “You know your cigars, huh?” Swagga asked.

  Fritz smiled. “Every man has his joy. And yours?”

  “Phat booty ‘hos,” Swagga said as the Gucci headband slid down his forehead. “So whut up? Can you help me?”

  Fritz reached for a gold plated lighter. “When do you need it done?”

  “ASAP,” Swagga said, nudging the headband back up as Fritz lit his cigar.

  “Why the rush?” Fritz pushed the lighter across the table.

  “I’ll pay extra if needed.” Swagga lit his cigar. He leaned back in the chair, filling his lungs.

  The two Cuban cigars burning, quickly scented the room.

  “What has this man done to you?” Fritz asked, surrounded by a thick cloud of smoke.

  “A lot. I just need ‘im gone. Done wit’. Period,” Swagga said with the cigar in his mouth.

  “If you want it done tonight, it will be ten thousand extra.” Fritz tapped the cigar over the ashtray.

  “Not a problem. Just let me know when and where to break you off wit’ the rest. Hell, you can still catch your flight tonight.” Swagga held the cigar out. “I think I need to invest in these.”

  “We can do a bank wire for half on my laptop,” Fritz suggested.

  “Say no more. Let’s do it,” Swagga replied eagerly.

  Fritz placed his cigar in the ashtray and got up from the table. Swagga took a deep breath, thankful for the cigar helping to calm his nerves. When Fritz left the room, Swagga reached behind his head and under his mane of dreads.

  Fritz returned to the table about a minute later with a thin laptop computer. He oddly sat with both hands on the table, looking directly at Swagga.

  “You ai’ight, yo?” Swagga asked, smoke flowing from his nose and mouth.

  Fritz picked up the silenced 9-millimeter he had left behind. “There was a hit on me once. Back in ahhhhh ’06. A guy came to see me, sorta like this. I left the room and left my piece on the table.”

  “And what happened?” Swagga asked with a wall of fear building.

  “He was armed, but he figured he would get more . . . how you say—street rep by killing me with my own gun.”

  “He missed?”

  Fritz smiled. “My gun didn’t work. I allowed that mistake to ride him for three seconds before I killed him with my second piece that did work.” Fritz laid the 9-millimeter next to the laptop. “You can’t trust no man.”

  “Man, I’m here to do bidness,” Swagga explained. “Fuck all that other shit.”

  “I see that now,” Fritz said, opening the laptop. “I’ll need your account number. Do you have it?”

  “Yeah. Lemme get my wallet.”

  Fritz fingers flew over the keyboard as Swagga slid back from the table. “I’ll need your—” Fritz froze when he looked up from the screen.

  Swagga’s tight grip on the Smith & Wesson .22 caliber pistol had it shaking. Fritz slowly raised his hands up. A sense of failure tore at him for underestimating the young rapper.

  “Where did you hide it? Oh, the headband.” Fritz smiled. “Behind your head. Under your hair. I’ll have to keep that in mind for next—”

  Swagga lunged across the table, popping five quick rounds into Fritz’s face. With his adrenaline thumping, Swagga ran to the bed and stuffed his bread back inside the leather Louis Stewart bag. He tried not to look over his shoulder at the lifeless body slumped face down on the table. Blood pooled around the laptop edging to the end of the table. Only the sounds of Swagga’s heavy breathing sounded in the room. On his way out, he paused to snatch up the box of cigars.

  “Won’t be no next time, muthafucka!” Swagga pulled the hoodie back over his head. He slipped out the door with the LS bag slung over his shoulder.

  ***

  Nashlly was waiting for Swagga inside her Mustang Boss filing her nails. He scared the piss out of her when he yanked the door open.

  “Boy, damn!” She jumped as he slid inside, closing the door and tossing the LS bag in the back.

  “Let’s roll, baby,” Swagga said with his hands shaking.

  He settled low in the seat as Nashlly slowly pulled out of the Fontainebleau parking lot. He was buzzing off that new taste of power. That rush of being invincible had flowed through him when he popped Fritz’s top. Killing Fritz would tie up the loose ends. Fuck the bullshit of having to worry about Fritz coming back to blackmail him. Swagga was done with paying others to do his dirt. Yeah, Fritz had taken D-Hot’s grimy ass out the scene, but that was over with. If you wanted shit done right, do it yourself! Swagga assumed things would’ve been done differently, had he done shit his way on that Chyna bullshit last year. Bringing Yaffa in the fold had fucke
d everything up.

  Swagga was keeping Nashlly in the blind about killing Fritz. He threw her off by telling her he was hustling that white girl on the side. She fell for it, thinking she had a platinum meal ticket in Swagga. Her rapper/D-Boy. Swagga was moved now. He had broken his fear of killing. Next on the menu, Trevon.

  CHAPTER

  Twenty-Eight

  If He Only Knew

  Trevon had fulfilled his end of the bet by giving Tahkiyah a full body massage that left her sopping wet. It was forty minutes past 4 pm when she motioned to take things to another level. Her youthful C-cup titties sat upright, circled by large areolas that Trevon tasted with his tongue. At her request, he had rubbed her down from her neck to her feet, butt ass naked. Kneeling on the bed, he took her in his arms, sucking on her nipples. She grasped the stiff flesh below his waist, stroking it up and down. Being somewhat kinky, she still had her designer glasses on.

  Trevon knew she was a stranger to him. They had just met. To cope with the doubt of whether to fuck her, he saw his actions no different than bagging a chick at a club. Her sexiness was too thick for him to pull away. He molded her breasts in his hands, flicking his tongue like a whip across her bulging nipples.

  Tahkiyah’s thirst for Trevon flooded her morals and the lines she knew she was crossing. She couldn’t tell him that he was the first black man that had touched her since 1988. She couldn’t tell him how she was raped while married to another man. She couldn’t tell him how she deceived her husband by causing false troubles in their marriage. Nor could she tell him how she managed to stay away from her husband and subsequently give birth to a child she didn’t want. She held it all in. After she gave birth to the child that was forced inside her, she tried to return to her husband a year later. The marriage failed two months later. Tahkiyah couldn’t erase the face of her rapist out of her mind. She came to detest black men, even her innocent husband of nine years.

  She trembled in Trevon’s arms from her fear and pleasure. The mix of emotions had her head spinning. She needed him to break the bonds to her past. Tahkiyah squeezed and stroked hard between his legs, smearing the slick fluid over his tip and up and down his shaft. Filling her palm with his balls, she enclosed him, pulling a deep moan from his chest. The room was spinning. Her breaths were rushed as she made him lie back on the bed. Her tongue and lips left a wet trail down the middle of his stomach. She swirled her tongue in and around his navel while her hands fondled his hard mast of meat.