Sweeter Than Honey

by Mary B. Morrison

  B was masking more of his insecurities. Why couldn’t he just say what he honestly felt? Motioning for B to come closer to me, I asked, “Why do you always have to get defensive? Valentino doesn’t run shit over here. If you were to ask me what I want, I’d say, ‘I want to get to know the real Benito Bannister. I want to talk to you. B, there’s so much you don’t know about me. I want you to know the truth about my past.’ The reason I trip out about sex sometimes is because I’ve never forgiven my stepfather for molesting me. He stuck his raggedy-ass fingernail…” I paused for a moment feeling like that little sixteen-year-old girl again dressed in pink shorts. The memory of my mother stepping on me taught me that anyone was capable of walking all over me if I’d let them. Looking at B through watery eyes, I resumed my confession. “He finger-fucked my pussy, scratching the shit out of me only to find out I was a virgin. My mother took his word over mine and kicked me out.” I wanted to tell B about my sister, my nephew who might come to live with us, my abusive exes, and how I sold myself for eleven years at a brothel, but I feared B might get defensive, then somehow blame me for being dishonest with him. Men always turned shit around, making it seem like they were the victim, so I got quiet for a while. I really don’t know what came over me or why I felt the urge to share at this point in our relationship, but B and I had to get closer or I had to let him go and find someone else to help me raise Jean.

  “Lace, baby, why you act so hard all the time? Talking down to a black man and stuff. I had problems growing up too. I never told you I was adopted. I haven’t spoken with my adoptive parents in years, I don’t know my biological parents at all, and I can’t stand my stepbrother.”

  Straddling B’s lap, I hugged him, sinking into his childlike embrace.

  B pressed his lips against mine, then said, “Baby, you know I never want to hurt you. If it’ll make you feel better, I’ll get a manicure every other day.”

  Yeah, but at my expense.

  “And I promise to stop treating you like a child,” I said as tears streamed down my face. I didn’t know B had a stepbrother and I wasn’t ready to talk about my conniving mother, Rita. I’d tried extremely hard to forget about my family on my plane ride back to Las Vegas. All of them except my father. And Honey, who made me afraid of losing my only sibling. I felt strange when Honey and I reunited.

  Were we united because of Don’s abuse, Rita’s lack of love, or were we two broken hearts that needed one another to mend? Like B and me. I never knew he was adopted. Like breaking a toe and suppressing the pain, I wondered how many loved ones were secretly emotionally shattered into a million little pieces.

  How could I tell B I thought he should try to make amends with his family when every cell—red, white, and other—in my body hated my mother?

  Focusing on my man, I decided heart-to-heart confessions were a good place for B and me to start over. Although we’d lived together for more than a year, I realized we knew so little about the wounded children that lived inside our subconscious minds.

  Ninety-seven percent of who we were was embedded in the subconscious. That’s why folks say, “Once a whore, once a pimp, once a dog, always will be,” because we manifest, successful or otherwise, our strongest desires or our deepest fears. Living a grown-up game of hide-and-go-seek, I hid behind my insecurities and B hid behind his inferiority. Neither of us felt good enough for the other. I didn’t want Benito to leave, but no matter what I had to deal with we couldn’t continue down this road of self-destruction.

  “I don’t want to lose you. I love you, B. But what’s gotten into you? It’s like you’ve changed overnight and I don’t understand why. Am I not satisfying you?”

  “Lace, no woman has ever made me happier than you.”

  “Don’t tell me, B. Right now I need you to show me.”

  CHAPTER 28

  Benito

  Every time a black man took two steps forward, society knocked him on his ass. I wasn’t prepared for Lace to get all sentimental on me and start spilling her guts. Now I wanted to spill mine. Not just to Lace but also to my adoptive mother. Most folks didn’t change. My adoptive mother was probably living all happy and shit in her big house riding her big black dick every night, then going to her high-paying job promoting all her white employees. Yeah, white women wanted all the rich black men. When I had money, white women came in pairs and groups hanging around me all the time just for fun. But broke brothas, like I was now, had to kick it with sistas until we could afford to do better. I wanted my stepmother to know how fucked up she’d made me. A black man had to open up to somebody at some point in his life or he was gonna explode.

  Boom!

  Here I was, sharing the most beautiful moment of my relationship with the only woman who ever truly loved me, and I was ticking like a time bomb. All I could think of was the dead body and quarter of a mil that had disappeared. With that kinda money I could have a little free talk with Jesus and tell Him all about my problems.

  Jesus was a brotha with special powers. He created me in His image so He had to understand my situation. The white man wanted me to believe Jesus had blond hair and blue eyes, and I did until I took a theology course in college. If cleanliness was close to godliness, then all my white college teammates were headed straight to hell with all that locker room talk about the bloodier the meat the better and they meant everything from prime ribs to pussy. So much stuff about religion was twisted to benefit the white man I’d gotten kicked out of class every day for proving the professor wrong. If a black man didn’t know anything else, he knew his Bible.

  In the New Testament book of Matthew, I prayed God would grant me immunity from the Parable of the Talents. “…Take the talent from him and give it to the one who has the ten talents. For everyone who has will be given more, and he will have an abundance. Whoever does not have, even what he has will be taken from him. And throw the worthless servant outside into the darkness, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.”

  I felt like Lace was the one with all the talent and before our relationship would end God would probably give her everything except me. I may have not buried my cash like the guy in the Bible who had one talent, but I prayed God wouldn’t take my money and give it to Lace. Getting my cash back was mandatory. But whosoever took Sunny did me a favor.

  Did Lace have my money? Was she playing head games with me? I bet she was in cahoots with her boss. Valentino said for me to pimp-slap her. Squinting, I thought about laying hands on her again for a minute, then stared at Lace for a few seconds trying to figure what she was thinking. Suddenly I came up with a brilliant idea. I’d fuck the shit out of her and make her confess while giving her the biggest orgasm she’d ever had, which would make her love me twice as much.

  Taking Lace upon her word to show her, I tossed the comforter to the floor, grabbed both her ankles, and, “What the fuck!” Lace’s foot slammed into my mouth.

  “I’m so sorry, baby. I flashed, please don’t stop,” she begged. “Come up here.”

  Shaking my head to resume consciousness, I hesitantly planted soft, wet kisses all over her face, gradually moved down to her neck, then her collarbone, wondering why she’d done that shit. Navigating south, I lingered, alternating biting my woman’s nipples thirty seconds at a time.

  Lace had the most gorgeous cream-colored body. Praising her perfection gave my dick a craving. Her skin was smooth as liquid silk but at the same time firm as leather.

  Lace moaned, “Mmmm, B, don’t ever leave me. I need you.”

  Squeezing her plump, huge, coconut-sized titties together, I tried to fit both caramel-tasting nipples in my mouth at the same time, mumbling, “I need you too, baby.”

  As I parted my woman’s thighs, she blossomed like a flower into a full split that a gymnast couldn’t have done more gracefully. I cradled my tongue atop her lips, allowing her pussy to marinate in my mouth. Hardening, my dick grew an inch longer. Lace was sweet and fresh like coconut milk out of a shell. I was her worker bee and
my mission was to eat her pretty pussy until she couldn’t come another drop or speck of her nectar in my mouth. I cupped her ass, bringing her closer. As I lapped up her juices I felt a stronger connection between us. Once again, Lace was right. We needed to bond more. Open up to one another more. And learn to trust.

  “You gon’ make me come too soon, baby.”

  “You don’t have to control everything, Lace. For once just let go and let me be in charge.”

  Her body relaxed, sinking into the mattress. Glancing at the clock, I asked, “Don’t you have to be at work at six tonight? It’s five, you know.” I didn’t want to piss Lace off by making the same mistake.

  “I’m leaving at eight.”

  Crawling into the space beside my baby, I laid my head on her breast. “Can we be honest with one another, baby?”

  “Yes, this is what I want us to do. I’m listening,” Lace said, twirling her fingers through my hair.

  “Baby, do you know what it’s like to work hard all your life, become larger than life, then lose everything you worked for, everything you own?”

  Lace rubbed her eyebrow, then kissed my cheek. “No, but I do know you need to get a—”

  Smothering her lips with mine, I interrupted, “I’m scared, baby. What I need is you. Promise me when I tell you what I have to say, you won’t leave me.”

  Lace held my hand next to her heart. “I really want to give our relationship a chance. Whatever it is we can work through it.”

  Valentino would kill me if I told Lace what happened and Lace would shoot me if she found out I knew but didn’t tell her.

  “Before you go in tonight, you should know…” I paused, tilting my head backward to see Lace’s expression. Her eyes were closed, so I continued watching her, then confessed, “Sunny is dead.”

  CHAPTER 29

  Lace

  Legs trembling, pussy puckering, heart racing, I tiptoed quietly to the bathroom. Twice in one day I’d heard Sunny was dead. Never did I expect to hear those words come out of Benito’s mouth, but at least he finally confessed the obvious, his ass was broke.

  Benito spoke to my back. “Where’re you going? Did you hear what I just said?”

  Without turning around, I whispered, “Yes. Thanks for letting me know.”

  “Don’t you have any questions or wanna know what happened to me? To Sunny?”

  Facing Benito, I answered, “No, I don’t.”

  Locking the bathroom door, I stepped into the shower, stood on the bench, then keyed in the combination. Nothing happened. I tried again and again but the floor wouldn’t open. Taking a deep breath, I waited five minutes and tried one more time, thankful the floor parted.

  Peeping inside, I saw the silver case was gone. I sat on the edge of the tub and turned on the hot water. Maybe this was some sort of life test.

  Tap. Tap. Tap. “Are you okay, baby? Want me to wash your back or your hair?”

  “I’m good. Just give me a minute alone. Bring me my cell phone, would you?”

  Switching from hot water to cold, I cracked the door with enough room for Benito to slip me my slither cell phone, then twisted the lock.

  Turning off the bathwater, I started the faucets to create background noise, and then I dialed the hospital.

  “Thanks for calling Flagstaff Memorial, the medical facility that is your home away from home. How may I assist you?”

  “This is Lace St. Thomas. Can you ring me through to Honey St. Thomas please?”

  I just needed to hear a warm voice that was attached to someone who cared about me. I needed to talk to my sister. Honey was strong so I knew she’d be all right. She had to recover because although I’d given her my word, I wasn’t prepared to raise my nephew.

  “Oh, this is scary,” the now familiar voice answered, then said, “I just picked up your card to call and notify you first like you’d asked. Honey passed away right after you left.”

  The cell phone slid between my fingers onto the rug. “Lying bitch!” I screamed into the mirror. “You can’t take away my Honey,” I cried, collapsing to my knees.

  Bam! Bam! “Baby, you okay? Lace, open the door. Baby, please. What’s wrong? Was it something I said?”

  I lied, answering, “I’m good.”

  Easing into the steaming suds, I laid my head on the inflated pillow and closed my eyes, wondering, Why me?

  Why did nothing good ever happen to or for me? Now that Honey was dead, there was nobody to love me for me. Benito loved me because of what I could do for him. Valentino hired me for the same reason and now wanted to fire me, but he couldn’t afford to. I figured Valentino knew I’d killed Reynolds, but what explanation would I give? Not only did I feel no remorse for shooting Reynolds, I’d practically forgotten it’d happened.

  Plotting my strategy, I decided I’d take the first morning flight to Flagstaff and make funeral arrangements for Honey. But if I found out that Don and Rita were responsible for my sister’s death, three coffins would lie side by side.

  CHAPTER 30

  Lace

  I’d soaked in the tub almost sixty minutes, shedding enough tears to overflow my bathwater, but there was still another hour before heading to Valentino’s. Recapping my day, I’d flown to Flagstaff, seen Honey for the last time alive, stomped Don’s dick into his balls, spat in Rita’s face, received an anonymous call during takeoff on a plane, and opened my heart to a man I now hated since listening to Benito tell me Sunny was dead.

  My soul mourned my sister’s death, but I felt relief in knowing the darkness of my spirit could still love someone. I was glad the hate I had for Rita and Don hadn’t kept me from brushing my sister’s hair or kissing her cheek. Holding on to the hopes of one day meeting my father and the terrifying responsibility of raising my nephew, I emerged from the water where every bubble had burst my dreams of getting to know Honey.

  Wrapping a red fluffy oversized towel under my arms and around my breasts, I picked up my cell phone and opened the door, damn near bumping into Benito, who was on the other side waiting with open arms.

  B’s head and shoulders slumped toward his chest. “Lace, I’m so sorry.” B started crying. His shaky hands hugged me so close my nostril suctioned his nipple. I couldn’t breathed listening to B babble, “Please forgive me, baby.”

  For what? Being an idiot? Letting someone drop a murder charge in your hands? Was I supposed to be dumb and let you get me involved in your shit? I bet B’s ass would let me go to jail and do twenty years while he lay up in my house watching Grey’s Anatomy and 24.

  Tucking my phone inside the towel, I cupped B’s face into my palms, kissed his lips, then softly laid my moist lips against his neck right behind his ear. “Um, um. Can you get me a glass of water, baby? My throat is dry,” I said, walking over to my ivory nightstand.

  Slipping the magnet over the hidden latch, I glanced at the edges along the back panel…“What the hell?”…dents. Not one, or two, but at least a dozen. That Negro tried to force his way in. See, that’s why a woman had to be smarter than her man. Men were some of the nosiest motherfuckers on earth. Especially the broke ones. Quickly I removed what I needed, slid it under the pillow, then sat on the edge of the bed rubbing my neck.

  Taking the goblet from B, I let a few drops of water trickle in and out of my mouth, then sat sucking on an ice cube until it completely dissolved. B sat on his side of the bed staring at the wall in silence.

  “Thanks, baby.” I set the glass on the nightstand, then patted the mattress. “Come lay with Mama for a moment. I need you.”

  Rolling B onto his back, I straddled him.

  B’s hands caressed my ass. “Baby, I love you,” he cried, unwinding my towel.

  I snatched that red cotton and flung it into the air, then watched the towel dangle from the canopy. “I love you too, B.”

  Gently I began kissing his lips, working my way to his neck, then down to his dick. Without touching B, I sucked his limp dick into my mouth, yanking him upward until he was fully erect,
then gave him that deep throat special Don had requested.

  My pussy pulsated with pleasure. Mounting B, I gave him something else he’d never had from me, my signature Pussyland rodeo ride. Taking my time, I rolled my hips forward and back, massaging his dick with my vaginal muscles. Grabbing the towel, I looped it around B’s neck, suspending his head in the air.

  “Yeah, Daddy. You like this wild pussy ride? You’d better hold the fuck on. You ready?”

  B nodded, slapping my ass.

  I transitioned to a figure eight, popping my pussy on the up stroke and gliding on the back stroke while increasing the pace.

  “Damn, Lace. What’s gotten into you? You got my dick…aw, shit…damn, baby!”

  As I rode B like I was a jockey determined to come in first place, his body scooted upward each time I banged this good pussy against his dick. The only thing that prevented B from being knocked unconscious was the pillow between his head and the headboard.

  B’s words were broken, but the universal expression of a man coming was clear. B’s mouth gaped open. “Ooouuuu weeeee! Ride your dick, cow girl!”

  Turning to look at his feet, I noticed his toes were curled like he had on a pair of leprechaun shoes. Watching his mouth relax, his eyebrows touch, and his forehead buckle, I slowed to a trot.

  “Yeah, baby. This is my dick,” I said. Laying my sweaty breasts against his chest, I sucked B’s tongue into my mouth.

  As I slid my fingernails from his armpits to his elbows and into his palms, B’s body relaxed. I kissed his neck, curling my face between his dripping wet ear and salty, slushy shoulder. Releasing his hand, I eased mine under the pillow.

  B was in a hypnotic trace. His eyes fluttered, then gave way right before his lips parted, exhaling a deep snore through his nostrils. Quietly I snapped the metal fur-lined handcuffs to the ivory bedposts, one on each side, and then I secured both of B’s wrists in the other hoops, click, click, click, until they locked and tightened. Circling silk scarves around his ankles, I tied quadruple knots, then looped the same four knots to the foot of each post.