Good Girls Ain't No Fun Boxed Set (The SIX romance and urban fiction volumes of the LOVE, SEX, LIES series)

by Jessica Watkins

  Our relationship was different, therefore successful, because James and I understood each other’s sexuality. He loves women; loves them. He was very honest with me about his insatiable appetite for the opposite sex. He shared with me his many infidelities during past relationships because of this appetite. Yet, I never judged James for that because I have the same appetite and have committed the same infidelities because of it. Because of his honestly, I shared with him my extreme love for and many experiences with women.

  Ever since, James’ love for me multiplied intensely because I was the first woman that ever loved him and understood that just because he was attracted to other women, it didn’t mean that he didn’t still love me very much.

  Therefore, we had been nearly inseparable for seven months. Since he is an engineer for the railroad, he spent many odd hours at work. However, we spent countless hours on the phone, and we were often together during his free time.

  We were like best friends who had great sex and checked out the same chicks.

  It was perfect.

  “Hey, babe. What’s goin’ on?”

  As James seductively kissed my lips and sat beside me on the couch, I answered, “Nothing much. Just watching TV. How was your day?”

  Though I accepted James for who he is, I admittedly changed him a little bit. I introduced him to the “lifestyle” so that he could enjoy other women while respecting the main one: me.

  The “lifestyle” is a loose term for swinging. A couple that swings, like James and I, is emotionally committed to one another. Yet, sexually, we shared one another with other people. Swinging is done in the presence of each other or requires the consent of both parties. Though couples often become very close friends with others in the lifestyle that they “play” with, there are rules restricting emotional involvement with anyone that the couple “plays” with.

  Even though swinging involves having sex with people other than your spouse, swinging enhances the relationship of the swinging couple in a sexual and emotional way. Since there is no need to be deceitful or secretive with your partner about your fantasies of having sex with someone else, the couple can explore their fantasies together without the trickery or guilt of cheating. By removing the deceit from the relationship, a new level of trust and openness is achieved in the relationship without the hurtful baggage of cheating.

  Swingers know how to separate sexual promiscuity from emotional commitment. Simply put: James and I have sex with other people, but it doesn’t mean that we don’t love the hell out of each other.

  Last year, I would have never considered myself in the lifestyle. Even though I was bisexual and enjoyed threesomes, I didn’t know that there was a label for what I was. But the more I realized my interest in having a significant other while maintaining multiple sex partners, the more I accepted the fact that I am a swinger.

  Yet, to be honest, the moment I fell for James and realized that I had a good man and could still be the bisexual woman that I am, I hadn’t slept with another man since.

  Introducing James to the lifestyle gave him a plethora of available pussy to choose from that I had no issues with him playing with. I was comfortable sharing my man with women in the lifestyle because there are unspoken rules and boundaries that refused certain actions that would lead to the destruction of a relationship. Most people followed these rules because, despite our need for sexual variety, we are in love with our significant others and want to maintain our relationships.

  Sometimes you have individuals that break the rules and get disrespectful, but it is few and far in between.

  “It was cool. Work … the usual.”

  “Did you find out if you could take Saturday off?”

  “Charles said he would work for me, so we’re good. We can get it crackin’!”

  In response, James and I laughed devilishly.

  Saturday was the monthly Black Swingers Club party. James and I joined Black Swingers Club a few months ago. We stumbled upon it while on the internet searching for social networking websites to meet other swingers in our area. Though I knew of one or two groups that threw parties, we were looking for something more discreet, intimate, and official. I was tired of going to parties where any and everybody is let in with no background check and no discretion. Black Swingers Club was like a breath of fresh air. I gladly pay the monthly membership to be introduced to like-minded adults around the world. Though the monthly Black Swingers Club parties are thrown in Chicago because one of its owners resides here, the members span from Chicago to Texas, and even Italy.

  In addition to local parties, Black Swingers Club arranges a few trips during the year for all of its members from around the world to come together to meet, mingle, and “play.” In a few days, James and I were going to Negril, Jamaica for Black Swingers Club’s annual Black Swingers Fest.

  Just the thought of the trip and its potential aroused me. I began to look at James longingly and reached to rub his dick just to say hi to it.

  With a playful giggle, James softly shoved my hand away. “Not yet, babe. I’ve been on a train for thirteen hours.”

  I frowned playfully. “You do smell like an engine.”

  He giggled and slightly pinched my thigh. “I’m gonna go hop in the shower.”

  James and I were like two peas in a pod. Now the only other women that he slept with were the women that both he and I were interested in or a woman that I approved of. He no longer needed to commit infidelities, because I brought him the extra pussy that he needed to feed his greedy appetite. As a result, I did not have to hide my sexuality, neither did he, and we both lived unrestricted in our relationship.

  Two

  Tuesday, March 2, 2010

  TRICEY

  My eyes rolled into the back of my head as I heard Amiel’s voice coming through the receiver.

  “Tricey, I’m taking your ass to court for joint custody, so I hope yo’ ass got a good lawyer…”

  An incoming call interrupted Amiel’s rambling. It was my baby, so I quickly deleted Amiel’s voicemail and clicked over to Smith.

  “Hey, baby,” I sang to him flirtatiously.

  “Hey, you. How is your morning going?”

  “It was going great until I got another phone call from Amiel.”

  “What did he say this time?”

  “That he is going to take me to court.”

  Smith laughed slyly. “Oh, yea? Let that muthafucka try.”

  That turned me on. I loved Smith’s thuggish ruggish sex appeal. He hated Amiel, and I am certain that he would have done anything to Amiel to keep him away from Ariana. I heard bits and pieces of the things that Smith and Blood used to do to guys in the streets, so to hurt Amiel to keep him away from me and Ariana would have been nothing to Smith.

  I gave birth to Miss Ariana Lynn Anderson seven months ago, August 17, 2009. I was too scared to go home because of Amiel and the possibility of those thugs coming back that kidnapped Blood, so I was at my mother’s house when my water broke. The week before, two armed men held me hostage and beat me up until I gave up Blood, my best friend, who was one of the biggest drug dealers in Chicago and who was taking damn good care of me financially in order to use my condo as his “spot.” During the weeks before that, these same men, along with some other guys, robbed Blood, Smith, and Shon, one of Blood and Smith’s closest friends, of over one hundred thousand dollars worth of cocaine. In the process, they shot and killed Shon.

  In retaliation, Blood killed Banks, the main guy behind the robbery.

  In retaliation for that, I was kidnapped and beaten until I gave up Blood. I was nine months pregnant at the time. Luckily, they didn’t do anything to me that harmed Ariana. However, they took Blood away when, after forcing me at gunpoint to pretend like I desperately needed Blood to come help me because I “was in labor”.

  I never heard from Blood again.

  Practically, Smith and I assumed that Blood was dead and that his body just hadn’t been found. Smith said that his mothe
r refused to have funeral services until the police found Blood’s remains. Yet, after a month of hearing absolutely nothing from Blood, Smith and I gave up hope, and Smith took Blood’s possessions and money that he and I had to Blood’s mother.

  “I hate that Amiel even has your number,” Smith fussed.

  “Yea, I wanna smack Lyric just for giving it to him.”

  The day that they took Blood, the kidnappers surprisingly let me live. Since Blood had hidden cocaine in my house, even from me, I couldn’t call the police, so I went to Walgreens to self-medicate. While there, I slightly fainted from high-blood pressure. The hours of beatings and anxiety had gotten to me. Ironically, two of the people that came to my aid as I lay on the floor in the store were Amiel and his wife.

  Amiel and I dated for about a year. Though he and his wife still lived together, they lived in separate bedrooms and were very much separated. His wife even knew about me, but because of his inability to pick paying child support and alimony in order to be with me, the woman he supposedly loved so much, I chucked the deuces and never bothered to inform him that I was pregnant.

  I needed a clean break. I wanted him and the misery that he made me feel out of my life- even if I was pregnant with his baby.

  Luckily, I was so black and blue in the face that Bridget never recognized me. Yet, when she called Amiel over to help her with me, his mouth dropped, and I could have sworn I saw him shit bricks. I immediately got myself together well enough to get out of that store. I knew that Amiel was too shocked at my pregnant condition and scared of his wife to say that he knew me, but damn it if the flood of phone calls didn’t start after that.

  I had to move and change my number. I was scared of Amiel finding me, and I was petrified that Banks’ boys would come back to get the drugs and money that they knew were in my condo. Smith moved everything out the day they took Blood, and I never went back. I was in another condo a few weeks later. I changed all of my numbers. I even went as far as changing the number to my office at work and having the hospital take my name out of the company directories. I figured that if Blood was okay and would try to contact me, I would get word from Smith.

  That never happened.

  Soon Amiel started to call Lyric, the only other contact number that he had for me since my mother ignores his calls too. Lyric got so tired of getting fifteen calls a day that she punked out and gave him my new number.

  Smith snickered. “Dude can beat it. That’s my daughter now.”

  Smith had been in Ariana’s life since the day she was born. He even cut her umbilical cord. He and I formed a weird attraction to one another during the weeks after Blood’s disappearance. Since Blood was all he and I had, it was as if, since Blood was dead, all we had was each other. I didn’t know Blood’s family or any of his other friends, so my only outlet was Smith.

  Since Blood fulfilled every duty of a boyfriend or husband for me, Smith began to do the same out of respect for his best friend. The only difference is that our relationship was every bit emotional and sexual; whereas Blood and I were strictly platonic friends.

  Smith eventually left the drug game. Shon and Blood’s death scared him straight. He took what money he had and invested it into different business ventures; real-estate, a beauty shop, and a clothing store. All of these businesses were doing very well, so Smith was able to take good care of me and Ariana. Smith agreed with me that Amiel didn’t deserve to be in Ariana’s life, and he wanted Ariana to have a real family – not a family with a dad that was married to some other woman.

  Ariana had a very good father, one who loved her and me to pieces, so I didn’t give two shits about Amiel.

  Smith and I ended the call with promises to spend some quality time later on that evening.

  Though he practically lived in my condo, either I was always tending to Ariana or he was constantly on the phone or computer working, so we had to plan smush time.

  Just as I was locking my computer in order to leave for lunch, there was a knock at my office door. I knew it was Lyric. We still worked at the same hospital together, Saint Mathews, except I was now the Human Resource Manager of the Department of Neurology and Lyric had just gotten promoted to Section Administrator in the Department of General Internal Medicine.

  I told her to come in, and as she entered, she screeched, “Hail dere!” in a really bad impression of a Jamaican accent.

  “I’mma need you not to do that. Don’t go to Jamaica talking like that. The natives will kick your ass,” I told her with a laugh.

  “I don’t sound Jamaican?!”

  I continued to laugh. “Hell no!”

  Then Lyric began to float into vacation mode with a huge smile on her face as we walked out of my office.

  She sighed happily. “I cannot wait to get to Jamaica. James and I are going to get it in!”

  “You Negroes get it in plenty in Chicago.”

  “I know, but this will be different: the beaches, the sun, the new faces … and the nudity.” Lyric began to giggle devilishly.

  Next Wednesday, Lyric and James were leaving for Indulgence Resort, an adult-only resort in Negril, Jamaica. It is also a nude resort, which allows for the perfect sexual and erotic environment for her and her Black Swingers Club crew.

  “There is still time for you and Smith to come.”

  “Girl, yea right! I don’t wanna be around a bunch of ass and titties!”

  “Don’t forget the penises!”

  I looked at Lyric and shook my head shamefully. I was also just poking fun at her. Lyric had been a freak of the week for years. It all started with her bisexuality some years ago. Then, when her marriage to Bradley was canceled because he found out that her “best friend,” Veronica, was really her lover, Lyric’s coochie went batshit crazy. She started having sex with couples, going to swinger’s parties, and all kinds of stuff. I thought it was just her way of dealing with losing Bradley, but no, the heifer is just a true freak.

  Lyric had always had an issue with monogamy. However, I wouldn’t call her a hoe. She just always had to have her cake and eat it too. That’s why when she met James and they began to swing, she felt so sexually free and uninhibited.

  “It’s time for you and Smith to go on a vacation anyway.”

  “Already? You think so?”

  “Why not? James and I have been together for just as long as you and Smith have.”

  “But you all are going on vacation on some freaky deaky shit. It would be more of a romantic getaway for me and Smith.”

  “And still why not? He’s a father to Ariana and you all practically live together. At least get away for the weekend.” Then Lyric looked at me curiously as she and I got on the elevator. “Do you feel guilty for being with Smith?”

  “Do you think I should feel guilty?”

  “He was Blood’s best friend.”

  “And? Blood was my best friend too.”

  Lyric smacked her lips and shook her head. “Girl, please. If you hadn’t have been knocked up and crying over Amiel, Blood would have been hitting that.”

  I shook my head confidently. “I don’t think so. Blood and I were like brother and sister.”

  “Blood would have stuck his dick in you with no problem! That brother and sister routine was just because you were pregnant.”

  I didn’t have a response because I didn’t want to talk about it. Talking about Blood left a nauseous feeling in my stomach. I felt so guilty about his death because the lies that I told him that brought him to my house caused it. If it weren’t for me, the woman that he took such good care of and protected, he would be alive. However, I knew Blood well enough to know that he was too much of a man to have been able to live with the fact that I was killed because I was protecting him.

  He was a damn good protector and he died protecting me.

  STAR

  I had an appointment with one of my regular clients.

  Every first Tuesday of the month, I met Stan at the Waltz Hotel on Michigan Avenue. His wife though
t that during that time he was out of the office in a monthly budget meeting, so Stan and I spent the entire day laying up.

  Stan was a forty-three year old man that loved his wife and children dearly, but he was miserable with his sex life. After twenty years of marriage and five kids, his wife simply didn’t arouse him anymore. Therefore, he paid two-thousand dollars to screw me in every direction before it was time for him to go home and act as if he’d been in that boring meeting all day.

  I had grown to like Stan as a person over the past few months. He was kinda cute, in decent shape, and, because of our frequent encounters, we had the opportunity to get to know one another beyond the sex. However, because he was so sexually deprived at home, there were no holds barred when he got his hands on me.

  “It’s meeee,” I sang quietly as I knocked on the door of room 2263. Afterwards, I could hear some shuffling and then the locks turning on the door. As the door opened, Stan appeared on the other side wearing a devilish smile and boxers. I could smell the lotion and shower gel on his skin as we embraced in the doorway. I couldn’t wait to get in the shower myself.

  “How has your morning been?”

  “Long,” I answered with a sigh. “Jordan wanted to be a crybaby. My front right tire is wobbling, and I had a meeting with one of my professors because I’m barely passing my Pathophysiology class.”

  Stan looked at me with a sympathetic smile as he sat on the bed. It was as if he felt sorry for me but was very happy to see me, regardless.

  I sat on his lap after resting my jacket and purse. “But you don’t want to hear about all of that, do you?”

  “I can listen to you talk all day”. Then he kissed my shoulder. “I don’t care what you’re talking about.”

  Stan was so obviously married. As I turned tricks, and since most of my clients were married men, I learned some very distinct differences between single and married men. Married men are always quick to do what you say, even if you are only hinting. Though Stan and I only spent time in suites, if I looked like I wanted something that was across the room or down the street, he was on it before I could complain or bitch. He was quick to fix whatever would make me complain.