Sweeter Than Honey

by Mary B. Morrison

  If my girlfriends wouldn’t quit for me, they’d quit because of me. I was putting a stop to Valentino’s scandalous secret prostitution ring that masked as an image consulting firm and limousine service. That coward didn’t have the decency to let us know the location of IP, claiming he didn’t want any of us showing up on his doorstep unannounced with a wild hair up our ass. He was the ignorant one. Lace confided in me that Valentino lived in this mansion, not at IP. His residence was right on the other side of the door I stared at. The same door that Lace exited into from our dressing room led to Valentino’s living quarters. But Lace refused to give me a physical address or phone number for either of Valentino’s properties, saying, “Sunny, some things in life we’re better off not knowing.” Pausing, Lace seemed so sad when she said, “Some people too.”

  Scanning the clothes, the shoes, and the jewels one last time, I recalled the moment I saw this dressing room. Man, I freaked out with excitement believing I’d hit the jackpot without gambling. Once the thrill wore off, I realized the degradation wasn’t worth the money. Never again before leaving the mansion would they cover my eyes until arriving at that isolated place near train tracks where I occasionally heard the familiar horn blowing in the background. Valentino must’ve forgotten to add soundproof windows. When I left tonight, I’d be telling Sapphire Valentino’s last name, his address that I was determined to get, and I’d be sketching her an image of what he looked like.

  Sapphire was right. Ridiculous amounts of money poured into Valentino’s pockets from clients I had to fuck. Each night while riding in the white stretch Hummer, the other girls gossiped about celebrity tricks’ dicks but not me. I remained quiet. Maybe that’s one reason Lace liked me.

  Every trip I tried to learn something new. Transit time from the Strip to Valentino’s—rate of speed times time times distance—meant Valentino’s house had to be someplace within ten to twenty minutes of Las Vegas Boulevard. The Hummer’s license plate, BITCHES, wasn’t registered online in Nevada, Utah, Arizona, or California. The tag must’ve been blocked or something.

  The pieces to Valentino’s real identity weren’t coming together fast enough. Waving at Onyx, I sat at my vanity and waited until everybody left. When the room became quiet, I recorded a quick video on my cellular.

  “Whosoever finds this phone, my name is Sunny Day, I live at 555 Chestnut, number 201, in the city of…If I’m dead by the time you get this, go to the police and tell them Valentino James killed me. If I’m alive and Valentino is dead, thank me for killing that dirty bastard.”

  I pressed my lips against the cold .22-caliber gun Sapphire gave me yesterday for my shooting lessons tomorrow. Teary eyed, I saved the video, then speed-dialed my parents, surprised my mother answered on the first ring.

  “Mama, I wanna come home.”

  “Honey, where are you? Your dad and I have been worried sick about you. You have to stop disappearing like this. We want you to come home too, baby.”

  I heard my identical twin sister, Summer, ask, “Is that Sunny, Mama? Where is she? Let me talk to that girl.”

  This time I was glad I was wrong. My family hadn’t given up on me. “Mama, I don’t know where I’m at.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Lowering my voice, I had to come clean and spare my God-fearing mother from embarrassment if her Bible-toting congregation discovered the truth first. I cried into the receiver, “I’ve been prostituting and—”

  “You’ve been what! Yes, Lord Jesus! I must be losing my hearing!”

  “Mama, please, this is not the time to yell at me. If I’m not home by midnight, call the police and report me missing. I bought a new condo. My address is 555…and I left a note in my bedroom on the nightstand and be sure to give them the license plate BITCHES. Valentino’s girls get picked up at bars on—”

  All I heard on the opposite end of the phone was sobs before my mother yelled, “Danniiiieelll! Get in here! Now!”

  “Mama, please don’t call Daddy to the phone,” I cried.

  “Daniel, talk to your daughter. She’s hangin’ out with witches.”

  Shaking my head, my mama couldn’t even bring herself to cuss.

  “Baby girl, what’s going on?”

  “I’m sorry, Daddy. I’m so sorry. I’ll be a good girl. Can I come home?”

  “I’m on my way. Helen, get my car keys. Baby girl, where are you?”

  I heard Summer adamantly say, “I’m going with you.”

  “I don’t know, Daddy,” I answered. Without any warning, my call dropped. “Nooooo!” I screamed into the dead receiver. I jabbed my gun into the power button, but nothing happened. “Shit!” This time I used my thumb to power on my phone. Nothing.

  Sniffling, I left my cell phone inside Onyx’s vanity drawer. Tucking the gun into the side pocket of my gold leather purse, I tiptoed to the forbidden exit door. Imitating Lace, I wrapped my fingers around the gold knob. Too late to turn back, I had to tell Valentino I was leaving and I wanted my money. All of it. Tonight. And not no measly two thousand dollars. I deserved more. A lot more.

  I twisted the knob until it stopped, my eyes widening when I stepped into a spacious, never-ending hallway. Leaving the door ajar, removing my shoes, heel, toe, heel, toe, I crept along in my bare feet over the cold crystal-clear floor. Sharks swam beneath the glass crisscrossing under my footprints. My shoes dangled in one hand, my purse hung from my shoulder bouncing against my hip. Finally approaching a slightly opened door, I slowed my pace as I noticed, aw, shit! I was on three flat screens.

  A man wearing pink socks, pink shoes, and nothing else sat in a large cinema-style chair viewing me on the monitors like he was at a theater. Without turning around he said, “Hello, Sunny. I’ve been expecting you.”

  My heart thumped in my throat at the sound of a familiar voice vividly recalling the last john I’d serviced. “I said suck my dick. And lick my balls. I want it all. You’re not clever, bitch. I want you hotter than a summer day in July.” Guessing he’d seen my every move, I prayed he hadn’t heard my threats. I swallowed, then asked, “You’re Valentino?”

  Facing me, he yelled, “Bitch! Don’t call my name!” When he stood, I saw that was definitely the dick I damn near swallowed last night. Thigh to thigh, his dick swayed with his every step from the caramel-colored chair to the black sectional sofa. Sitting, he leaned back on gold-plated fifty-cent pieces that were pressed into the leather like buttons, cradled his balls in his hand, and then spread his sagging nuts flat and wide. On contact with the cushion, Valentino’s balls shrank and wrinkled, crawling toward his stomach.

  Valentino had grown unbelievably handsome. He could have any woman he wanted except my sister. Oh my goodness. Now that I knew the truth, how was I going to tell Summer that Anthony Valentino James, her baby’s daddy, was a pimp? My heart thumping, I questioned if I could carry out my mission to kill Valentino. Like it or not, he was family. But he was also a womanizing, low-down, dirty dog.

  Focusing like Sapphire had taught me, I snapped a mental outline of the man I’d seen years ago. Dark eyes, thick eyebrows, long lashes, a well-trimmed thin mustache, a slender nose, mocha-colored lips, and a slim face. Six two, about one eighty, narrow shoulders, lustrous black wavy hair slicked to the back, and a dark, slightly raised mole beneath the outer left corner of his eye.

  Sapphire once said, “I hate when a rape victim can’t describe her assailant or point him out in a lineup. That leaves him free to rape, attack, or kill other women.”

  I jumped at Valentino’s angry tone when he said, “I knew one of you bitches would try me. But I must admit I didn’t think you were dumb enough to be the first motherfucka with balls bigger than mine, bitch.”

  Was this really the same guy my sister had a baby for? Rubbing my eyelids, I stuttered, “I, I, sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb, you, Val, um, I—”

  “Come. Sit,” he calmly said, patting the smooth leather cushion beside his naked thigh.

  My body froze in the door
way of his study. Another crystal floor covered more baby sharks. What was Valentino’s fascination? I’d never seen anything like this in my life. My knees trembling, I knew I’d broken his rule, or rules. Fearing the rage oozing from Valentino’s squinted eyes, I stared at his clenched teeth. Veins popped along the sides of his neck, making my chest hurt.

  What would he do to me? Verbally reprimand me. Burn me with that cigar in the ashtray? Beat me with the heel of what looked like a size-fourteen salmon on his feet? Rip my ponytail away from my scalp? Or would he step on me like a doormat?

  Nonsense. All the bad things I’d heard must’ve been rumored. Valentino had never laid a hand on any of his girls. That was Lace’s job. And before today I’d never realized that in a way, he was family. I think. Maybe I was worried about nothing. But the tone of his voice was one all too familiar. Whatever Valentino had in mind, I wanted no part of it or him.

  “Better yet, stand right there. Put on your shoes, then slowly remove your dress.”

  “But I, I really don’t want to do this anymore. That’s what I came—”

  Valentino interrupted with a stern look. “Bitch! I’m not asking you.”

  Easing on my red stilettos, careful not to damage the diamonds, I lowered my spaghetti straps over my shoulders, then gently released my dress. Shimmering gold lace with red specks surrounded my ankles. I was virtually nude, the only items remaining my thong and high heels. Oh yeah, and my new Rolex watch.

  Valentino eased from the sofa. Slowly approaching, he knelt before me. I shuttered as he inserted his fingers into my straps, then lowered my thong over my curvaceous hips, easing the elastic from between my ass.

  “Turn around and bend over and spread this beautiful booty in my face.”

  Doing as I was told, I felt his moist lips press against my clit.

  “Sweet. Straight sweet. Bitch, right now I should be getting paid for someone to lick this pretty pink cotton candy pussy.”

  Exhaling, I thought, if this was the worst of my punishment, I’d be okay. At least until Lace got here.

  “Turn toward me,” Valentino said, spreading my lips kind of the way Madam had done during my orientation. His tongue grazed my clit, then traveled up my shaft, momentarily resting in the crevice right before he softly sucked me.

  My body trembled with delight.

  “Oh, you like the way my tongue feels on your pussy, huh?” he asked, inserting his middle finger inside me with a come-hither motion.

  None of this would’ve happened if I worked at a legal brothel. Legitimate prostitutes were independent contractors—well, somewhat—working in legal counties over sixty miles outside Las Vegas. Their problem was most johns didn’t want to travel that far to get laid, which was how Valentino capitalized on us. In a way I envied the brothel-working ladies. Although I made more money, they got to set their own prices and work whenever they wanted.

  Terrified, I nodded, too scared to open my mouth fearing I’d make him mad, or madder.

  Contracted prostitutes never fucked in the ass. Their johns always wore condoms. Our johns seldom wore condoms and anal sex, while it did cost more, was available for the right price. The contractors got to do a thorough inspection of their johns’ genitals before sex and had the right to reject them if the dick and balls had any signs of herpes, discharge, or anything contagious. Not us. If our johns paid Valentino enough money, they could fuck us in the ear.

  “Ouch!”

  Valentino’s teeth clenched my clit tight and his soft hair slipped between my fingers when I tried to grip his hairy arms to stop him. If I took one step backward I’d be circumcised.

  Releasing my pussy, Valentino stood, braced one arm behind my back, and the other underneath my knees. Carrying me to the sofa, he laid me down, stood over me, massaged his balls in my face, stroked his hard dick against my lips, then commanded, “Turn over on your stomach.”

  “But—”

  Smack! Snap! Slap! Snap! Smack! Snap!

  “Bitch! Shut the fuck up! Turn over!”

  Reluctantly I obeyed. Not knowing what to expect next, I buried my face into the fresh leather.

  The warmth of Valentino’s strong body smothered me as his hot dick pressed between my thighs, quickly expanding. His head throbbed between my openings. Not knowing which hole he’d penetrate, I squeezed my cheeks as tight as I could, silently praying, God, no. Please don’t let him hurt me.

  “You do know my rules, don’t you?” Valentino asked, pressing his dick harder into the spot between my pussy and my asshole.

  Tears streamed down my chin and neck, making the leather slippery, reminding me of the scratches on my neck. “I remember you,” I whispered. The more my bruises burned, the more I cried, praying Anthony Valentino James wouldn’t ram his dick up my ass.

  He must’ve thought I was Summer, but if he really knew Summer he would’ve known Summer would never sell her body to any man.

  “Bitch, don’t cry now. I hope you’re glad. You finally saw my face. But I’m pissed that you’re not at that afterparty. You know how much you’re costing me. I’m one bitch short and out of one hundred g’s. So I suppose you’ll have to make it up to me!” Valentino yelled.

  Parting my lips, I prepared to scream…but didn’t.

  Valentino gently glided his dick inside my pussy.

  “I see why my clients pay so much for you. I’m so disappointed in the lifestyle you chose, but your pussy is still incredibly tight, hot, and juicy. You’re making me break my own rule. Damn, girl. I want you to know that I don’t fuck my escorts.”

  Lying bastard.

  “But since, aw, shit, you brought this pretty pussy back to me I can’t resist. Aw, yeah, this is undoubtedly some of the, ou wee, best pussy I’ve had. Wouldn’t you agree, Summer? I mean Sunny.”

  Protecting my sister, I didn’t want to play his game, so I remained quiet as Valentino’s big dick stroked in and out of me with intense passion almost like he was making love to me the way my sister said he made love to her. Although I tried not to, I started cuming and couldn’t stop. The XTC I’d taken in preparation for my tricks controlled my orgasms.

  “That’s it, let it go,” Valentino said. Looping his arm under my thighs, he massaged my clit as he continued fucking me.

  I came long and slow with his deep penetrating strokes.

  “I’m getting ready to cum inside you. You’re special because I never cum inside any bitch without a condom. I was gonna take you off the circuit and make you mine again, but you straight fucked that up. Guess I’ll have to choose your friend Onyx.”

  As he thrust his dick deep inside me, I felt the waves of semen leaving his body and entering mine. The Anthony I knew of never disrespected Summer. Maybe Valentino had a twin too.

  Valentino’s lips pressed against the nape of my neck. “Now, I want you to get up, get dressed, and think about what your punishment should be.”

  That wasn’t punishment enough?

  Easing into my dress, I stepped into my thong, covering my cum-soiled ass, then picked up my bag. Slowly I inched backward toward the door, keeping my eyes on Valentino.

  “Bitch! Come back here! I ain’t through with you yet!” Valentino yelled.

  I flinched, dropping my purse beside my feet. Curling the hem of my minidress into my palms, I held my breath.

  “Don’t make me tell you again!” he shouted.

  “Mama, Daddy, I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you,” I said, looking over my shoulder, praying Lace would walk through the door any second. “Please forgive me.”

  Valentino replied, “Daniel can’t save you this time.”

  Should I run for the door? Scream as loud as I could? I realized doing anything was better than standing still. Something propelled me to move forward…one step, as my feet parted, then aligned side by side on the shiny floor. I stopped when I saw a baby shark circling below me like it was feeding time and I was his meal. Remembering how Daddy made Summer lie to Anthony about aborting his child, I understoo
d why now.

  What if Valentino had a secret button that would open the floor beneath my feet, drop me into the water, and drown me as the sharks ate away at my flesh? Trying not to give him any ideas, I glanced around the sparsely decorated room—a sofa now stained with our cum, two cinema chairs, three monitors in a row surrounded by a wall with built-in bookcases, and a high-back chair on wheels underneath a large desk.

  Valentino’s mansion was in alignment with the name of his business. A huge crystal chandelier with stars bursting like fireworks centered the study above an unoccupied pink Persian rug.

  Desperately I wanted to leave, but I was here now. I was in charge, so I might as well speak my mind. Putting my hand on my hip, I asked, “Where’s Lace? Oh, I get it. She’s probably at the ‘secret’ location right now collecting your money, huh? Make that our money because everyone knows Lace is the one running this show and you’re just her dirty lil’ pimp ho.”

  I took a huge step back.

  Valentino’s silence spoke louder than any of the words he’d spoken. Fear crept up my spine, decomposing my backbone. How did I get myself into this abusive situation? This never would’ve happened to Summer. Mama, did you hear me? I know Daddy is looking for me. Tell him his baby girl needs rescuing immediately. He can follow the bright light flashing before my eyes.

  Over the past year I hadn’t communicated with my parents more than six times, terrified they’d find out what I was doing and make me come home. Summer knew everything about me except she’d faint if she knew the real name of Valentino I’d told her about was Anthony.

  Praying for the best, fearing I might not make it out of Valentino’s mansion alive, I was glad that yesterday I’d mailed a package to our family’s Henderson home addressed to Summer. Inside were my condo key, my online bank account identification, password, and PIN. Hopefully sis wouldn’t think it was junk mail and toss it into the trash.