Her Savior

by Vera Roberts

  Yep, there is no such thing as a free lunch. He brought my black ass all the way here just so he could fire me in a nice setting and I wouldn’t get all emotional. Little does he know… “Yes?”

  “I heard about the fight last night with your mother. I’m sorry about that.” He replies. How would a guy like him know about a fight like that? I don’t get the vibe he frequents WorldStar Hip-Hop. “How are you feeling today?”

  I shrug. My mother didn’t call to apologize but I didn’t apologize to her neither. I kept thinking if I didn’t tell her to fuck off, the fight may not have occurred. I kept wondering if I was purposely invited so she would have a storyline. “I’m used to it.”

  “You shouldn’t get used to it,” his voice is deep and smooth like hot butter on a biscuit, “no one should be constantly subjected to the embarrassment of their parent.” He looks away at the window for a brief moment and I feel the air shift to a brief sadness.

  He shakes his head and the emotion disappears; it’s back to business as if it never happened. “I wanted to speak to you privately about something else.” His eyes focus on mine.

  “Oh?” I immediately brace myself. His tone is serious and well, it was nice hanging out with the white folk for a little bit.

  The waiter comes by and takes our orders. He soon leaves and Savior returns back to the discussion. “I really like you, Keisha, and I think you have a bright future ahead of you.”

  “Thank you,” my body is relieved. I honestly thought my black ass was fired.

  “And I want to help you with that,” Savior reaches over and grabs my hand with his manicured one. “And I want to explore the connection we have.”

  “Connection?” I ask. “I don’t understand.”

  “Each time I’m around you, I get this incredible feeling. It’s like wanton lust and something primal, I can’t explain it.” His eyes are confused by the emotions he’s feeling, I guess? “I felt it when I first saw you in the interview process and I knew it was real when you bumped into me. And I want to see if it’s real or Memorex.”

  “I don’t understand,” I shake my head. Is this fool asking what I think he’s asking?

  “I want to fuck you, Keisha.” He said it with such a declaration, it caused a shiver within me. “Hard. Fast. Slow. All night. Quickies. In my office. At your house. Everywhere.”

  Oh, he needs to calm the fuck down before he has me spread out like peanut butter. “Excuse you?”

  “Is that not direct enough?” He asks. “Should I be clearer what I want to do?”

  I want him to be clearer. I want him to tell me what he’s going to do with that long-ass tongue of his. He probably has a big ol’ dick, too. That type of dick that’ll touch your soul and clear your skin. “No, I get the gist of it.”

  “I apologize if I come on strong but when I know what I want, I go for it.” His eyes bore into mine. “I know you’re temporarily with someone but that’s a problem I’ll solve later. I need to know if this is something you’re interested in.”

  How does this motherfucker know so much about me? I’m getting stalker vibes from him that only white women find sexy in romance books. “You’re asking me to be your fuck toy. That’s sexual harassment.”

  “Do you feel harassed?” He asks.

  I actually feel aroused like a motherfucker but he can’t know that. “You’re so clinical and mechanical about this. Like most guys would want to get to know me, see what I’m up to? That type of stuff.”

  “If you want romance and all that, I’m afraid I wouldn’t have the patience for it.” He pauses as the waiter returns with our drinks and appetizers. “If you want me to blow your back out, I can do that anytime you want.”

  “In exchange for what?” The offer is enticing but I need to know exactly what I’m getting out of this. “What are you going to do for me, Savior?” I emphasize his name because I want him to know I see exactly through his bullshit.

  “Whatever four-year university you want to go to, I’ll foot the bill.” He casually replies as if he’s talking about the weather, “you have potential to get out of the ‘hood and I want to see you go far.”

  I feel like I’m on a very special episode of Poor Black Kids and The White People Who Love Them. Shade aside, I have to admit this is better than offering to get me some Fenty Beauty or other bullshit. I always say how I want to get out of the ‘hood but I’m not doing anything about it.

  If I all I gotta do is occasionally blow the boss to do so, let me open wide. “I need to think about it.”

  “Sure,” Savior flashes his panty-dropping smile, “think about it over the weekend.”

  My answer is already yes and I get the feeling he knows it, too. But I will humor him and think about it.

  Something tells me this arrangement won’t be as simple as either one of us thinks it will be.

  After lunch, Savior drives us back to the firm. We park in his reserved space and head to our respective corners until the next round sounds off. There is a quiet buzzing between us, like a vibrator on the lowest setting, but we’re both acting like it doesn’t exist.

  Well, I’m acting like it doesn’t exist. I’m not sure about him. Sure, the offer sounds enticing – be a rich white boy’s booty call and he’ll pay for my college in exchange – but I need to get real about this.

  If this doesn’t work or worse yet, I catch feelings over his privileged ass, this could backfire in my damn face. I can’t risk that humiliation.

  “Are you okay, Keisha?” He asks and I nod as we’re in the elevator going up to the firm. “What’s on your mind?”

  “I think you’re full of shit,” I reply and I glance up at him, “so there’s that.”

  Savior chuckles and I feel that vibration down to my yoni. This is going to be a long-ass work day. “Can I see you for a moment in my office?”

  “Yeah, I guess.” I shrug.

  We arrive at the firm and Savior makes a beeline to his office with me in tow. He passes by Easton, who quickly stands up to speak but once he sees me, he slowly sits back down as Savior holds a hand up to him saying, not now.

  I walk into his office and he closes the double-glass doors behind us. The doors are this thick, frosted glass that would be impossible to see inside. I also imagine it would be impossible to hear what’s going on inside as well.

  It’s my first time in Savior’s office and impressive doesn’t even begin to describe it. Floor-to-ceiling windows showcasing all of Los Angeles. A small private conference room was adjacent to his, as well with a bathroom.

  His desk was made of oak, and looked as every bit of expensive as him. A bar was in a nearby corner that had jeweled decanters and every top shelf liquor there was.

  “Have a seat, Keisha.” He instructed. “Do you want a drink?”

  “No,” I politely declined. I sit down on a sofa and my body melts into it. It’s the most comfortable sofa I have ever sat on and I’m already used to this Caucasian lifestyle.

  Savior removes his jacket and tie and loosens two buttons on his shirt. He turns around and I feel my breath stolen. Goddamn, he’s fucking gorgeous. His clothes are tailored to every inch of his wonderful frame.

  Savior sits beside me and that small buzzing from before became louder between us. “Have you thought about what I asked earlier?”

  “To suck your dick and you’ll pay for my tuition? Hardly.” I deadpan.

  He chuckles and I’m forcing my legs to stay closed. “I always believe if I come with a sweetened deal already on the table, the offer to decline it would be harder.”

  The man has a point. I see why he’s second in command. He knows how to broker a deal. Still, the idea of sex with him sounds so clinical and unromantic. I mean, what he’s offering me is better than the Howard Johnson but I dunno about this.

  “What’s making you nervous about this?” He scoots closer to me. His arm is on the back of the sofa and my body is pressed close to his. If I try hard enough, I can feel the pulse of his heartbe
at against me.

  “Your deal sounds too good to be true. Plus, how do I know you’re not full of it? You see a poor black kid down on her luck and you decide to rescue her from the ghetto. She just has to suck your dick whenever you feel like it.”

  “I was thinking,” he rubs a finger over my pout, “maybe you would suck my dick whenever you felt like it.”

  My nipples tighten to his fingers and my body becomes more aware of what’s going on. A small dampness forms on my panties and my breathing becomes a bit more ragged.

  I quickly stand up and gather my bearings. “No,” I declare as I straighten my blouse. “No.” I head to his door.

  Savior beats me to it and places his hand on top of mine. My shoulders relent and I feel my will slipping away. “You’re a straight-A student, Keisha. You spend your weekends volunteering at the local food bank. I know about the recent donation you gave to Alzheimer’s research in honor of your late grandmother. You’re beautiful and bright and you deserve better.”

  I hastily turn around. “How did you know about—”

  Before I can finish the question, Savior sweeps his lips over mine before his anxious tongue enters inside. His tongue explores my mouth and I feel powerless against him. I also feel more aroused than ever.

  I reach up and grab his hair, pulling him closer to me as I feel his hands began to wander all over my body. He plays with my nipples through the cotton fabric and slightly pinches them.

  His lips trail down to my neck and back up, making me softly moan and breathe. Are we really doing this? At work? What if someone interrupts us?

  “Keisha…” His low voice comes out as a cross between a moan and a plea. “…think about it.” An alarm goes off and Easton’s comes over the overhead speaker.

  “Savior, your two o’clock appointment is here.”

  Savior forces himself back. Almost instantly, the intensity died down and business Savior comes full circle. It’s almost as if nothing ever happened between us at all. He checks his appearance one last time in the mirror and I follow his lead.

  “You have the weekend to think about this. After the weekend, I need an answer, Keisha.” He says. It’s not a request, but an order. He watches me reapply my lipstick and stops me from doing so. He takes the lipstick and carefully applies the color on my lips. “I’m giving you time to think about what happened here. I can be quite persuasive if I don’t get my way.”

  “If I say no,” I carefully respond, “you’re going to fire me.”

  Savior finishes applying the lip color and stares at my lips. The look he has just made my panties dampen even more. “I’m not going to fire you because you’re going to say yes.” He hands me back the lipstick. “I’m giving you the weekend so you can come up with a counteroffer. I made you a sweetened offer, now you can tailor it to your liking. Your call.”

  Nine

  “So, what’s the problem again?”

  I went home and told Tasha about what happened. I still can’t believe it my damn self. The rest of the day at the internship, I was trying to focus on reading up court cases and filing important documents. Trying to focus is imperative here.

  I couldn’t focus all damn day knowing I just got felt up in Savior’s office. We didn’t bump into each other, neither, which was a small blessing in disguise. After my internship was over, I was hoping he would pull up on me but that didn’t happen neither.

  I guess he wanted to leave me alone and not be convinced in any other fashion about his offer. Sounds like a calculating executive.

  “He wants to fuck you and pay for you to get the fuck out of Inglewood,” Tasha shrugs like it’s a regular occurrence every day in my damn life, “I don’t see the problem.”

  “I’ll forever be in debt to this dude. What if he’s a bad lay the first time? How many times do I have to fuck him? There’s a lot that can go wrong here.” I explain.

  “What’s his name again?” Tasha asks.

  “Savior Ellison.” I repeat. Even just saying the dude’s name makes me feel tingly. I’ve never been attracted to white boys and this dude has me feeling some type of way.

  “Savior?” Tasha repeats. “Like Our Lord and Savior?”

  “Yep.” I nod.

  SoundCloud shakes his head. Not sure why SoundCloud is here but I don’t have to wonder too far. I’m starting to think this nigga doesn’t have a home. “Y’all have no idea who Savior Ellison is?”

  “Um, duh, that’s why we’re Googling.” Tasha checks him.

  SoundCloud works on his computer and shakes his head again. “Savior Ellison is part of the world-famous Ellison family.”

  “Can’t be that famous if I don’t know who he is,” I smartly reply.

  “I ain’t done, B.” He says. “Daddy, Thomas Ellison is a billionaire, always suing somebody over something. Word has it he made a lot of money during the economic downturns in 1987 and 2009. Turned huge profits over people losing their homes and shit. Comes from a family of old money. He’s a partial-owner of the Kings along with the Fergusons.”

  I’m surprised but I shouldn’t be. The Ferguson family runs L.A. and everyone knows it. Not only do they own the world-famous Ferguson Gallery, but they also own a plethora of buildings around L.A. One of them recently married an old friend of mine, Dominique Kimbrough. Talk about a million-dollar wedding.

  For Savior and his family to be associated with them makes even more sense. “I see.”

  “Daddy Ellison is a character, though. He’s one of those cats like you’re not sure if he’s racist but you’re not convinced if he isn’t.” SoundCloud glances over. “So, there’s that.”

  And Savior chooses my black ass to be his new fuck toy. Now, it makes more sense. Fucking me is saying fuck you to Daddy David Duke and ‘em. I swear my taste in men really fucking sucks.

  “What do you mean?” Tasha asks. “Either one’s racist or he’s not. There’s no in between.”

  “Supposedly Daddy Ellison was a huge supporter of the Civil Rights Movement back in the day. He would send a lot of black kids off to college and is rumored to have a few mistresses he takes care of who are heavily-melanated.” SoundCloud explains. “But then he’ll say some ass-backwards shit like, ‘If you don’t stand for the flag, you need to get the fuck up out of this country.’” He shrugs. “Again, not sure if he’s racist but not convinced he’s not.”

  I know the type of dude Daddy and the rest of the Ellisons are. It explains why Savior targeted my black ass. They want a cookie for helping out us black folk as long as we abide by what they say at any given time. They are politicians of the highest order without actually being in office.

  “I found him!” Tasha squeals as she shows me the Google search. “Is this him? For a white boy he’s cute!”

  I glance down at Savior’s picture. Oh, that’s him, alright. My yoni already started to do a praise break. “For a white boy, I’m Samuel L. Jackson and he’s my Leonardo DiCaprio.” I reply.

  “You could be Olivia Pope to that funny-looking dude from Ghost.” Tasha replies.

  “I don’t know,” I shake my head, “I need to think about this. Tuition will be paid for but at what price?” I stand up and straighten out my clothes. “I just need some time.”

  “Oh, I forgot to tell you! Jalen came over and dropped something off in your bedroom. He said he needed you to hold it for a while.” Tasha adds.

  I don’t even blink at the information. It’s more than likely drugs and Jalen probably has some heat on him. He know ain’t nobody gon’ mess with me at the risk of getting fucked up by my Daddy, so that’s why I’m holding that package for him.

  As I walk to my bedroom, hide the package full of bad shit in my closet, I sit down on my bed and wonder about Savior’s final words to me: I’m giving you the weekend so you can come up with a counteroffer. I made you a sweetened offer, now you can tailor it to your liking. Your call.

  If all I gotta do is blow and fuck the guy to go a four-year university on his dime, so be it. Bu
t now that request just became a bit more expensive for Savior.

  If he wants me on his dime, it’s gonna cost white boy a whole lotta money. I hope he opens his wallet wide.

  ~~~~~~

  It’s Saturday morning and I have nothing but time and energy on my hands. It’s time to go shopping and spend some money I don’t have.

  I head over to the Crenshaw Plaza where I spend money on some Forever 21 clothes and some cute earrings. I treat myself to a bowl of jambalaya and head home. Maybe tonight I can convince Tasha to go out clubbing so I can take my mind off Savior.

  It’s damn-near impossible, though. I’ve been thinking about his offer the last couple of nights. What can I possibly ask of a billionaire’s son? I need something tangible. Something that would show him I ain’t the one he’s gonna toy with and forget about when I’m off to college.

  I need something that would bring him to his knees.

  But what, though? What could possibly make him know this?

  I head back home and see another strange vehicle parked in front of my home. It’s a BMW SUV. I’m assuming it must be one of Jalen’s friends stopping by to pick up the damn package in my closet. I certainly hope so because I don’t have time for that shit.

  I walk in the front door and drop my packages on the floor.

  Savior is here. And he’s freaking having coffee and donuts with Tasha and SoundCloud. Shouldn’t them niggas be at work or something?

  “Keisha,” Tasha’s voice is dripping with saccharine and I think she just gave me diabetes. “Look who’s here? And he brought us breakfast!”

  “Uh-huh,” my mind immediately goes to what’s in my closet. I need to make sure it’s safely hidden. “I’ll be right back.” I rush to my bedroom and open the closet door. Whew. It’s still there, hidden under a bunch of blankets.

  I straighten out my tank top and hope I look halfway presentable. Just as I was about to open the bedroom door, Savior was right there behind it.