Kismet

by Raynesha Pittman

  We had plans to go over the contract with our new client, Strax Industries, that morning, so I woke up two hours early and showered. I had recently installed a new showerhead where you can adjust the jets to the way you want it, and I loved the way the water was hitting my body. I had the temperature of the water just to my liking, nice and hot. The jets of water were hitting my nipples in a way that stimulated me.

  As I rubbed over my body with my sponge, I stopped and squeezed my nipples slightly, turning them counterclockwise, and then back. I lifted my breast to my mouth and sucked on my nipple. Dropping my sponge, I slowly rubbed down my stomach to get in between my legs to my clit. I took a step backward, and the water was now hitting my lower stomach. Using my left hand, I put my left breast into my mouth and licked all over the nipple. My right hand was occupied with playing with my pearl tongue.

  The feeling was getting good. I slid down the back of my shower wall until I felt the tub bottom under my butt. The water was now hitting me on the face and chest. I threw my leg over the tub’s wall and scooted around the floor of the tub until I got the jets of water to hit me dead between my legs.

  I started fucking myself with my fingers. Lying back and closing my eyes, I pretended I was being sexed wildly by an NBA player. I didn’t have a player in mind because I couldn’t concentrate long enough on anything but pleasuring myself. Whoever the hoop star was, he knew just how to handle me.

  I kept fucking and stroking my pussy. I went faster with every beat of my heart. I felt it coming—oh yes—and I was exploding. I couldn’t continue to fuck myself through the explosion in fear I’d black out due to the heat of the water filling my lungs with mist. I just lay back and enjoyed it. Thank you, Mr. NBA basketball player.

  Starbucks was packed. I had never been there at 6:00 a.m., and after that day, I wouldn’t be back that early again. I sat there and had my Frappuccino and Danish to get a look at the early birds in hopes of catching my next prey.

  I didn’t eat half of my Danish before it came back up. Rushing to the bathroom, I realized I’d been throwing up or waking up horny every morning for the last three weeks—and where in the fuck was my period? I’d had one two weeks before I met Dre. It’d been three weeks since the police raided my house, and that happened six days after I met him.

  That made me two weeks late.

  Me, pregnant? Hell, naw. I was on every type of birth control on the market. Somebody was getting sued if I was pregnant. I got a shot in my ass, swallowed pills daily, and practiced safe sex. That shit couldn’t be real.

  Dre must have gone inside me raw while I was asleep. Not only would I get a drive-by abortion, but a full STD screening. My gynecologist bill was going to be ridiculous because I wanted the works. I hoped I still had time to take the abortion pill. I couldn’t stand to get another DNC. The last one felt like someone ran in me with a train.

  When I walked out of the bathroom, I sat down at the table to get myself together. I forced myself into believing the day would get better . . . but it didn’t.

  The meeting with Strax Industries was going well until we reached the terms of the deal. They agreed to give us 100 percent control of all accounts . . . as long as I was managing them.

  On the upside of the deal, I would make partner at my accounting firm, be given a right in decision making since I would become the tie-breaking voter, have a projected $140,000-a-year salary before additional bonuses, and the best part, Williams and Williamson might have to change their name to Williams, Williamson, and James.

  With figures thrown in your face like that, how could there be a downside? There is always a downside when getting or making money. That’s where my “How much is it really worth?” rule kicks in. Never let the money be the decision maker. Think about what comes with making it. Will I have to work longer hours? Will I be in a safe environment? Will it shame my name or me? And how much ass will I have to kiss once I’ve accepted it?

  This rule can be used when you’re given money too. Does the giver expect something in return? If so, will I walk away with the respect and pride I had for myself before I accepted the money? And my favorite question again, how much ass will I have to kiss once I’ve accepted it?

  In that situation, the downside would be more work and longer hours, but they would be the hours I decided I needed to give. I would have to manage a whole office of accountants and make decisions on what deals would make or break us if we accepted them. That didn’t seem too bad. The part that was hard for me to stomach was moving back to California.

  The office I would be presiding over was our California, downtown Los Angeles/Mid-Wilshire location. Mr. Nguyen, the owner of Strax Industries, said he would only be comfortable if I handled his account, and if I didn’t, he would withdraw his offer.

  I was shocked that I had impressed him so much. My goal was to get him as a client of our company, but the way he worded everything, he was becoming a client of mine.

  “Ms. James, I will personally pay for your relocation, including shipping your belongings and vehicles. And don’t worry about paying rent. Wherever you decide to live, the bill is on us for the first three years, which should give you time to get settled into the new environment. I’ll give you and your firm one year to get yourselves together to take over my workload while my current contract with my in-house accountant runs out. Again, we’d like to work with you. If your firm sends us anyone other than you as lead, we will take it as the agreement was breached, and we will not uphold our contractual obligations. Do you accept this offer in full?”

  I needed time to think it over. Moving home was never a want of mine, and if anything went wrong, it would all fall on me.

  “Can we plan to meet in a month so I can give it some thought? This is life changing and even though every inch of me is screaming yes, I’d like to give it some thought.”

  Everyone agreed, even Mr. Williamson, who looked disappointed when I made the request.

  I felt like the HBIC (Head Bitch in Charge), and if I requested some time, then I would take some time, so his disappointed face meant shit to me.

  Once the meeting was over, I went and told Stephanie what the offer was. No one in my office knew about my hate for my home state but her.

  “Don’t worry, Savannah, you’ll get another $60 million-dollar deal . . . one day.”

  I didn’t know if she was being sarcastic or really meant, “Bitch, you will never get a deal this big again. Pack up and move back to Cali,” or if she was on my side and meant what she said. Either way, the decision was mine to make, and I had thirty-four days to decide by the date we arranged in the meeting. I was so stressed. I met Marcus at Houston’s and smoked a blunt with him in the car.

  “Aww, shit, what’s wrong? Any other time I ask you to smoke with me, you are too busy to, so I know something’s up.” I hit his blunt two more times without answering him. He hit unlock on his door. “Follow me in your car. I’m going to park mine, and we gonna hit a bar.”

  I wasn’t in the mood for a typical bar. I was stressed, horny, and hadn’t had any dick in over a month. I had sex with Marcus a few times before, so I knew it wouldn’t be a problem with getting him to fuck me that night.

  I pretended to be ladylike about asking for some dick and suggested he follow me to the Renaissance on Peachtree because they had a bar. He knew what was up as soon as I made the suggestion.

  “I’m going to make a stop, but I’m right behind you. Go get a room and have the drinks waiting on me.” He handed me $300. “Text me the room number when you get it and take that blunt with you to smoke on the way. You know all of the hotels you like got a no smoking rule.”

  He was right. They did have a no smoking policy, and if he paid for the room, he would want us to stay all night. His sex was average to me. If I was going to get sexed well, it was going to be by somebody who knew what he was doing and somewhere I could smoke freely. Amir came to mind instantly. I needed some of his Jamaican loving.

  I told Marcus I
needed some time to find a place with smoking rooms and that I would call him later. If he was still available, we would meet up then.

  I would use Marcus as my round-two dick, because Amir was a fifty-nine-minute man. Once he got his, he wasn’t getting back up for a few hours. I could leave Amir and sleep with Marcus the rest of the night. I’d still be recovering from the beating Amir put on me, which would make Marcus’s sex feel a lot better, and I would get the stamina Amir was missing with Marcus because his dick seemed to never go soft. Marcus popped X. I didn’t know if he liked to be high or if it was his youngster version of Viagra, but both times I had sex with him, he had taken a pill first.

  Amir said we would hook up around 8:00 p.m. at his place, so I texted Marcus and told him to meet me at the Hilton at 11:00 p.m. He agreed, and said he would bring liquor with him.

  I waxed, then showered so I was as smooth as a baby’s skin. I put on a red strapless dress that stopped three inches above my knees with matching pumps. Red lipstick was applied along with some red and gold dangling earrings.

  My hairdo from the week before was still holding up. I let Jamie, my gay beautician, convince me to let it grow out. Now my two-inch haircut was a four-inch one, but I loved the new look. I thought maybe I should let it grow a few more inches and let Jamie work his magic.

  I was looking and feeling good. I decided to leave my house at 7:00 p.m. Atlanta’s traffic was horrible. That would allow me time to get to his place at 7:45 p.m. That meant I would be knocking at the door around 7:55 p.m.

  After retouching my makeup and adding a little perfume just in case the humidity left a smell, I got out of the car.

  Amir said he would be grabbing us something to eat from his family’s restaurant and to have his cousin, who was also his roommate, let me in. When I knocked on the door, Ivan was there to open it. “Hey, now, look at you, looking all fancy and shit.”

  Ivan’s English was a hundred times worse than Amir’s was, and he was a hundred times sexier than Amir too. He was just learning English, and you could tell because everything he said involved a curse word.

  “Dat motherfucker went to get you some food before he jukes you.”

  I wasn’t going to listen to him, so I went and waited in Amir’s room.

  My phone rang, and a 615 number came up. Knowing it was Nashville’s area code, I forwarded it to voice mail. Dre didn’t have my new number, so who in the hell could be calling me from there? It rang again, and that time I answered. “Hello.” There was a woman on the other end asking for me by my first and last name. “This is her.”

  The caller said she was calling from Nashville’s Police Department. I got quiet. “Ms. James, we were calling to tell you that Andre Burns was arrested this morning and has cleared your name of all involvement. We will not be calling you again until he is released, so please keep your telephone number updated with us.”

  Dre’s letter said he would turn himself in almost a month earlier. Yet he was just arrested?

  “Hello, Ms. James, are you still there?”

  I snapped out of it. “Where was Dre arrested?”

  I could hear her typing. “Actually, he was found outside our precinct, sitting by the door and smoking a marijuana cigarette. His pockets were empty, and when the officer asked him what he was doing, he handed him his identification.”

  She chuckled like she thought Dre was stupid. I don’t know why I felt the need to defend him, but I did. “Sounds like Dre made some arrangements before he turned himself in. It doesn’t surprise me that your detectives couldn’t find him. Hell, he watched as they raided my house looking for him, even though they never thought to search around the premises to see if he could have been hiding somewhere like the laundry room or pool house. Dre studied criminals and their ways of thinking before becoming one. I wouldn’t be surprised if his case gets thrown out in court. It’s really fucked up when the criminal is one of your own, isn’t it?”

  I could hear the irritation in her voice. “Is there anything else we can help you with?”

  I replied, “No,” and she ended the call.

  “So, if Dre is your man, what da fuck you doing here?” By the language used, I knew it was Ivan, but, to my surprise, it was Amir. “You defend your man under my roof, while sitting on my bed, while he is on the way to jail?”

  I stood up to get myself off this nigga’s bed. “Dre is not my man, Amir.” As soon as the words came out of my mouth, I realized Amir had just waved a red flag. He was jealous and questioned my other relationships with men. I’m sure he didn’t think he was my only one. I continued. “And if he was my man, Amir, why would you care? We are just fuck friends, remember? You said you don’t want a woman, that you like to be free, and I feel the same.”

  Amir went from mad to pissed. “In my country, men have many wives or sex partners, but a good woman sleeps with only one man unless she’s a prostitute.”

  Hold the fuck up. Did he just call me a prostitute? “Well, I’m not your wife, and this isn’t your country. Otherwise, you wouldn’t need that green card. It’s America, and I’m not a prostitute. I will continue to deal with other men until I’m married, and I don’t foresee that happening.”

  He opened his door wider. “It won’t happen. No man wants to marry a tainted woman. Get da fuck out!”

  I grabbed my phone from his bed and walked out with my head high. On my way out the front door, his cousin looked at me while laughing. “I’ll pay to juke that pussy, shit. See you later, prostitute.”

  I was so upset and hurt that I sat in my car and pulled myself together. “Marcus, you think you can meet me around 9:30 p.m. instead?”

  He agreed. I rolled up another blunt, went, and got myself a three-piece chicken meal with coleslaw and mashed potatoes as my sides, and a sweet tea to drink. I sat in my car and ate.

  Amir called me three times, but only left one message that said, “Savannah, I’m sorry I said those words to you. Please forgive me. I was going to ask you to be my woman tonight, and then I heard you on the telephone. If Dre is who you love, I do not compete, even if I am out on the streets while he rots behind bars. Please call back and let me know if you accept my deepest apology.”

  I laughed and continued eating my chicken. Amir and I would have had that argument anyway. I would have given him the same response when he asked me to be his woman. It was fate for us to go our separate ways that night and in that fashion. Who was I to stand in fate’s way?

  Chapter 7

  Positively a Negative

  Marcus was looking good when I pulled up to the hotel. I had never seen him dressed up, and I liked what I saw. He had on a blue and cream button-down, long sleeved Tommy shirt with khaki-colored pants to match. While we were away from each other, he went and got a fresh haircut, his face cleaned up, and he was wearing a very soft-smelling aftershave that wasn’t harsh on the nose.

  We checked in, and we then headed to the room. Once we arrived, he rolled up three blunts, and we smoked them back-to-back. He was drinking dark, and I just had Sprite. I wasn’t in a drinking mood anymore. As soon as I felt high, I was ready to get the session started.

  “I’ll be right back, beautiful.”

  When Marcus went to the bathroom, I slid my dress over my head, then climbed on the bed in my bra and thong. I positioned myself so when he walked out, the first thing he would see was my legs spread apart and my finger rubbing my pearl tongue.

  I had my knees apart, in a sitting position, with my pumps still on. I wanted him to taste me. I started rubbing my pearl tongue to imitate the stroke I wanted to feel from his tongue.

  The toilet flushed, and I watched the door handle turn. I thought about moving my hand from my warmth so he wouldn’t know I had been touching myself, but I changed my mind. We needed to be on the same page, and me stroking my pearl was the perfect indication of what I wanted.

  “Keep going; I want to watch first, and then I’ll show you how it’s done.” Marcus had never seemed to be the foreplay
type, yet, I was feeling the freak he had in him. Although his request caught me off guard, I continued stroking my clit and with his hard dick in hand, Marcus watched the entire time.

  “Let me help you out, baby.” He came and put his tongue in the exact same spot my hand was in. It wasn’t a competition. His tongue felt a hell of a lot better than my fingers. He was the winner—hands down. He licked me at a fast pace. His oral sex was wild. There wasn’t a set direction he wanted to go in, and he covered them all. It was sloppy yet enjoyable.

  I lifted my butt to bring it closer to his face. I had plans of slapping it against his tongue. Those plans were soon cancelled when he flipped me over to ride his face. There is nothing like a good rodeo. When it comes to riding a dick or a tongue, I’m game.

  Marcus must have popped an X pill, because he placed both of his hands on each of my thighs and began lifting me up and down on his tongue. To regain balance, I placed both of my feet back on the bed and got into a squatting position over his face and rode his tongue.

  I was getting a full workout. I could feel my thighs and calves tightening with every move. That’s when the shaking started. I was coming in his mouth.

  One good turn deserves another, so I fell into a sixty-nine position, placed his girth in my mouth, and started sucking him. I had never pleasured him with my mouth before. I don’t know if I caught him off guard or if my head was just superb, but within the first minute, he sat up, removed it from of my mouth, and nutted on the bed.

  Standing up, shaking, squeezing, and slightly pulling on his dick to get the remaining fluid out, he looked at me. “Savannah, your head is a killer. Girl, go bend over the desk. I got something for you.” He grabbed his pants and pulled out the condom. I watched as he put it on. He was hard as steel, as if he hadn’t exploded at all.

  Apparently, I was moving too slow because he threw out the thought of me walking to the desk and bent me over the nightstand. He was in a zone. His eyes were rolling in the back of his head, and he kept licking his lips. Now I knew why he always sexed me with dark shades on. The light fucked with his eyes, and he wasn’t able to control their movement on X.