The Ex Factor: A Novel

by Whitaker, Tu-Shonda

  “Look.” He stopped dancing and stood still, facing her. “Calm down and stop being so aggressive. You act like you're scared to be made love to. Allow me to be a man and take care of you.”

  Celeste didn't know what to say.

  “I'm not going to be a one-night stand,” Myles continued, “so let me give you a sample of who I am.” He started kissing Celeste softly on the lips and then gradually slipped his tongue in her mouth, kissing her the way she longed to be kissed. Instantly her nipples hardened. He could feel the fullness of her breasts pressed against his chest; he couldn't wait to take her nipples, have his tongue bow down and treat them like royalty. “Let me take care of you,” he said as he lifted her dress above her head. He unsnapped her bra, and she stepped out of her panties. Myles couldn't believe her body. She was perfect. Her love handles, her stretch marks, her breasts that sagged just a little, her thighs, dimples and all, were like artwork, carefully put together, creating the masterpiece of a real woman. He laid her down slowly. Before he undressed he took one of her breasts and sucked it until her nipple felt like silk in his mouth.

  Celeste felt like a tug-of-war was going on inside her, wondering when she was going to see his dick. Myles took his clothes off, revealing a dick that more than matched his height. Thank you, Lord, she thought, looking at the ceiling, but I hope that big dick isn't just for show. Celeste reached across the nightstand and handed him a condom. “I want you”—she looked him in the eyes—“to fuck the shit out of me.”

  “There you go with this getting fucked. Why not make love?”

  “I don't wanna make love right now. Check with me tomorrow on that. Right now my pussy is aching. I ain't had no dick in I don't know how long and I can't help it but I need you to turn me the fuck out.”

  “Damn, Celeste, I'm not that kind of man.”

  “If you ain't that type of man, then hand me my beaver underneath the bed.”

  “Now, Celeste, I know you're not telling me that a portable dick is better than a real one.”

  “Then you”—Celeste pointed—“better take that big dick and work me overtime.”

  Myles started smiling. He started kissing Celeste on her stomach and was working his way down toward her pussy to give her some head. Celeste tapped him on the shoulder. “I don't want no head right now. I said fuck me.”

  In all of his forty years, Myles had never been with a woman so aggressive, but something about it turned him on. Without warning, Celeste flipped him over and got on top of him. “Let me show you how to bang up a pussy. You're taking too long.” She threw her hands in the air, took her left leg and stretched it over his shoulder, causing her pussy to expand to its full capacity, then leaned back and got her seesaw on. “When I tell you to fuck me, I mean get on top and tear this pussy up.”

  “Goddamn, baby,” Myles said, trying his best not to nut, but Celeste was driving him wild.

  Celeste took her leg down and flipped around backward, throwing her ass in his face, practically having his lips kiss her cheeks. Before he could get hold of the way she was riding his dick, she bent down, slipped the condom off, and started giving him some head, pushing her pussy up toward his face and instantly creating a 69. Celeste surprised herself with how freaky she was, especially since she'd never liked to suck dick.

  Myles started to shiver. Celeste could feel that he was about to nut, so while she continued to give him head she reached for another condom, slipped it on, and turned back around to face him.

  “Stand up,” he demanded. Celeste complied and he bent her over, her hands touching the floor. He slipped his dick in and immediately went to work, pounding into her wet pussy. He reached his hands forward and grabbed her bouncing titties.

  “That's it, motherfucker, that's it!” Celeste screamed. She could think of nothing other than seeing stars when she came. Myles's dick filled up every inch of her pussy and even more. She loved the kaleidoscope of pleasure and pain that came each time he pounded into her, his balls slapping generously against her. “I'ma— I'ma—” she started to stutter, “I'ma cum.”

  “Cum on, and make sure you keep standing, 'cause I got some more shit for yo' ass. Let me show you how to toss a salad.”

  Is this niggah trying to be funny talking to me about food? Celeste thought. Suddenly she felt the soft hairs in her ass lifting: it was Myles running his wet tongue between her ass checks. Celeste could do nothing but close her eyes. I feel like I owe him some money, she thought. This is the best freak session I could've ever imagined… And this went on for hours.

  When Celeste woke the next morning she pinched Myles's arm to make sure he was real. “Ouch, sweetie.” He smiled. “What was that for?”

  “I wanted to make sure you were real. You know,” she laughed, “I know nothing about you.”

  “Yes you do, you know I shop in 7-Eleven and you know I can keep up with your freaky ass.”

  “Yeah, you were all right,” she chuckled, moving her hand from side to side, “but for a minute there you had me worried.”

  “Worried? Well, let's go again this morning.” He arched his eyebrows.

  “Naw, I wanna talk to you. Like I said, I know nothing about you. I'm sorta embarrassed.”

  “Don't be. My last name is Cochran. I'm forty years old and divorced. I have two children, both grown. My daughter is eighteen and my son is twenty. I'm a computer software engineer and I split my time between Atlanta and South Jersey. You should come to Atlanta—you would like it.”

  “Who knows? Maybe one day I'll move there.”

  “I would like that. Now, Celeste your turn.”

  “Okay, my last name is Winston—well, Parker, like I said I'm getting divorced. I'm thirty-two. I have three girls—Kayla is eleven, and my twins, Kai and Kori, will be five. And I miss them like hell. Oh, I need to get a job, and somehow figure out if I can afford this house that I live in… did I mention I need a job?”

  “Yes, you did.” He smiled. “Now, what about needing love.”

  “Well honestly, love and I don't get along. So before I fuck somebody up, I'll pass on love right now. Besides, I need to get to know me, spend some time with my children, and become okay with Celeste. I buried everything in my husband and when he left me, I was a mess. I can't go through that anymore.”

  “So you're scared?”

  “No, I just want to be careful.”

  “I can understand that. So will I get to see you again?” he asked.

  “I hope so.”

  “So we can be friends?” he pressed.

  “As long as we're friends with fuckin' benefits.” Celeste laughed.

  “Uhmm…,” Myles said, rolling on top of her, “that sounds good to me.”

  (Imani)

  IMANI WAS SORE as she tried her best to drag herself down the hall to the bathroom. She'd gotten out of the hospital yesterday, and since her apartment wasn't livable she and Jamal had to stay with Starr and Red until they were able to move out on their own. Imani twitched her cheek only to be met with excruciating pain. Once in the bathroom she stood in front of the mirror and stared at herself. Immediately tears fell from her eyes. Her hair looked like untamed grass: wild, loose, patchy, and matted. Her once flawless face was bruised and wore the imprints of a leather belt. Her right arm was in a cast, and her shoulder was numb.

  She heard someone creep into her room, so she patted her hair down as best she could, only for it to spring back up. She took her left hand and wiped her eyes. As she stepped out of the bathroom, she saw Kree sitting on the edge of her bed and instantly she felt embarrassed.

  “Hey, beautiful.” He helped her to the bed and kissed her on the forehead. His long braids brushed past her face, tickling her nose.

  “Beautiful, yeah right.” She tried not to grin as Kree sat back down on the edge of the bed.

  “I know you wanna smile. Go 'head,” he kissed her again, “let me see you smile.”

  “Shut up!” she said playfully, unable to resist a grin. “I feel like Mi
ss Celie after Mister kicked her ass.” Tears started to form in her eyes. “You see how Walik yanked my hair out and beat me across the face with his damn belt. You know I be having dreams about that shit?”

  “Damn, I thought I was the only one.” Kree shook his head. “Every time I think about how that niggah beat you I wanna fuck him up again. I swear I shoulda shot his ass.”

  Imani looked confused. “What? Fuck him up again? You shoulda shot him, what are you talking about?”

  Kree stared at Imani. He didn't want her to know that after he'd left the hospital the day she was admitted, he had some of his boys find Walik and bring him to an abandoned building. Kree was there to greet him with a ski mask on. With his boys watching, Kree stood over Walik, imagining what he'd done to Imani, and started beating him the same exact way. He took his belt off and slashed him across the face, but instead of hitting him with a leather belt he beat him with a spiked one. Instantly blood shot everywhere. Walik tried to fight back but was no match for Kree, who stomped him with his boots and dragged him around on the ground. Afterward he made Walik strip naked then burned his clothes, his pants catching on fire before they were completely off him.

  Once Kree finished beating Walik's ass, he left him on the floor, his burning clothes next to him. Then he went to the nearest pay phone, disguised his voice, and turned Walik in to the police for the warrant he had for beating Imani and setting her apartment on fire.

  Kree shook his head. “Don't worry,” he told Imani, “I didn't mean anything by it. I'm just saying how I really wanna beat his ass.”

  “Did you do something to him, Kree?”

  “Don't start, Imani.”

  “I'm not starting. I just don't want you in any trouble, please.” She held her head down. “We need you too much.”

  “We?” He lifted her head up. “Don't start that holding-your-head-down shit.”

  “Yes, we. Me and Jamal.”

  “Naw,” he laughed, “you cussed my ass out, remember?”

  “I'm sorry…I hate myself for that. Look at me. Just look at me. All because I told him I didn't want him. He couldn't take it and this is what he does to me?”

  “Look, ma, sometimes it takes certain shit to make us see what we were doing wrong and what we need to change.”

  “It still doesn't give him the right to try and kill me. I really thought I was going to die. I really, really did.” She started crying. “I gotta get my shit together, Kree. I have to. I have a son, I don't want to hang out on the stoop no more, smoke weed, and carry on. I can't believe this, I don't have shit. He burned up all of my clothes, my bras, my panties, everything. I have nothing.”

  “Shhh baby.” Kree scooted up close to Imani and placed her head on his chest. “Don't cry, baby, I got you. I do.”

  “Yo, yo, yo, wasuuuuuppp!” Sabrena yelled, coming into Imani's room. Tasha and Quiana were behind her, each with three shopping bags in her hands. Sabrena's bags were from the Gap, Quiana's bags from Banana Republic, and Tasha's bags from Neiman's.

  “Oh, Imani.” Sabrena stood still, watching her cry. “I didn't know …” She pointed to the door. “You want us to come back?”

  “No,” Imani sniffed.

  “Okay, good,” Tasha said. The girls walked over and gave Imani a group hug. Meantime Sabrena slipped Kree his credit card and the receipts for the clothes. He stuffed them into his pocket.

  “Girl, let me show you what we found for yo' ass at the mall.” Sabrena laid the clothes out on the bed. “Ain't this shit sharp?”

  “Damn, Brena,” Imani said, “you picked this out?” She held up hip-hugging jeans and a turtleneck.

  “Look at this,” Tasha said, showing her a mint-green Donna Karan peacoat.

  “I can't believe this,” Imani said, smiling.

  Kree looked around Imani's room; all he could see were clothes everywhere. Without anyone noticing he pulled out the three receipts that Sabrena handed to him and looked at the total. He had to do a double take when he realized that they spent well over three thousand dollars.

  “Imani,” Kree said, getting up from the edge of the bed, “I'ma come back later. I need to get to the studio. I'll be calling to check on you. I promised your mother I would stop by since she and Red were at the T. D. Jakes Explosion.”

  “T. D. Jakes?”

  “Yeah, The Jam on Its have converted to Jammin' for Jesus. And it looks like they gon' be taking off. Red might come back with a bangin' CD after all.”

  “Oh please.” Imani frowned.

  “Finally,” Sabrena said, after Kree left, “I'm glad he's gone so we can give you the lowdown. First off,” she continued, “that fat fuck, Walik, is in jail, tryna cop a plea for what he did. Shante, that skank, is living with Saraah, from Utica, her cousin Fatima's baby father. And it's about to be a war over that ma'fucker. You know Shante's fat ass is a user, worried over some baby Walik is spose to have.”

  “And yo,” Tasha interrupted, “word is that Kree beat Walik's ass! Don't sleep on Kree, I know he a DJ and all, like to dance and shit, but he put his thug-thizzle down. My new boo told me when I bailed him out that he saw Walik coming up in there naked and beat the fuck up. And when he asked Walik what happened, he said some niggahs with ski masks robbed him and burned his clothes up.”

  “Say word?” Imani cracked up.

  “Word.”

  “And look,” Sabrena said, giving Imani the eye, “I don't know what you plan on doing with Mr. Kree, but you see all this shit here? That niggah bought it. And honey, it's more where this came from. He bought Jamal all new shit. I tried to get that niggah to take my shit off layaway but he looked at me like I was crazy. Yo, his ass is a keeper.”

  “You see how fucked up my face is,” Imani stressed. “I can't imagine being able to keep a man like Kree.”

  “Girl, please,” Sabrena said, “Kree loves yo' ass. And listen, your face is still pretty. But that hair is another story. As soon as I walked in here, I couldn't wait for Kree to leave so that I could cut this shit even and give you two goddess braids with a zigzag part down the middle. And next week I'ma get some pony hair and we gon' hook you up with some invisa-braids.” Sabrena took her hair supplies out of her bag. She took the scissors out and cut Imani's hair as evenly as she could. After that she took two packs of hair and completed Imani's hairstyle. “That'll hold you for now.”

  “Look,” Tasha said, looking at her watch, “I need to pick up my daughter, so we'll be by here tomorrow.”

  “All right,” Imani said, sad to see them leave. They kissed her on the cheek and waved bye.

  “Remember what we said about Kree,” Quiana said. “Don't sleep.”

  (Monica)

  SHARIEF HAD BOTH of his hands filled with packages of Pampers and baby bottles as he pushed his back against the door, holding it open for Monica and his newborn son, Jeremiah Winston.

  The orderly pushed Monica and the baby outside next to Sharief's truck. Monica could feel the truck rocking as she stood up, preparing to place the baby in his car seat. Sharief opened the door. All the kids were jammed into the backseat: Kayla was pushed into the corner, with Kai, Kori, and Jamal practically sitting on top of one another. Kayla sat with her mouth poked out and rolling her eyes.

  Jamal looked at her. “You too grown, Raven Symone!”

  “Shut up! Fat boy!”

  “Yo' mama fat!”

  “Don't talk about my mama!” Kayla screamed.

  “Jamal!” Monica said, giving him the evil eye. “Stop it.”

  Sharief opened the door Kayla was sitting next to. “Hold the baby's bags.”

  She folded her arms across her chest. “I ain't holding no bags! You got me messed up! Get it offa me, he ain't my brother! And where my mother at? I'm tired of this!”

  “Kayla!” Sharief said sternly, slamming the bag down on her lap. “He is your brother! And your mama off spendin' my damn money! Now be quiet and take these bags!”

  “I hate this!” Kayla screamed.

&nbs
p; “I hate this,” Kai said mocking her sister.

  “Stop it, Kai!” Kayla yelled.

  “Stop it, Kai!”

  “Uhmm.” Kayla took her fingers and plucked Kai in the head, and Kai started screaming. The baby, whom Monica had just placed in his car seat, started crying. “Awl, hell to the nawl!” Kori said. “Aunty, can you tell him to be quiet?”

  “No!” Kayla said. “Tell him to shut the hell up!”

  “I'ma slap the shit out of both of y'all,” Monica said, giving the baby his pacifier.

  As she hopped in the front seat, she looked at Sharief. “You couldn't find no babysitter? And why do you have Jamal?”

  “No, I couldn't find a babysitter, and Imani just got out the hospital.”

  “Why?”

  “Your mother didn't tell me why,” Sharief said. “You know Starr can't stand me, so she says the bare minimum.”

  “Jamal,” Monica turned toward the backseat, “why was your mother in the hospital?”

  “ 'Cause Walik got mad, punched her in the face, and burned the whole block down, now all of Flatbush is homeless.”

  “Y'all homeless?” Kori asked, excited. “I wish I was homeless.” “You are homeless,” Jamal insisted. “Don't get comfortable at Aunty Monica's. She told my Imani that y'all got to go.”

  “We got to go, Aunty?” Kai asked Monica. “Oh good, then it must be the bomb to be homeless.”

  “Yeah,” Jamal said, filled with confidence. “BK to the fullest, you know how we do. But me and my Imani'll only be homeless until she finds another building that take Section Eight. But it might be hard finding someplace that take all of what Section Eight give, 'cause you know rent is high these days.”

  “You could move in with Aunty,” Kai said. “Don't nobody sleep in the kitchen yet. Most of the time my daddy be in the living room, though.”

  Oh hell no, Monica thought. “I'll call my mother,” she said to Sharief, “that is, if she's speaking to me. Being she didn't come see me in the hospital.”

  “Well, Monica, she did come see the baby,” Sharief said. “And she dropped off a lot of things for him.”