The Satyr

by Tiana Laveen

  “Swift & Sons over there on Fulton.”

  “Yeah, that’s it! So what do you want to do? Want me to hook you up?”

  “Ehhh, I don’t think so, Tex.”

  “Come on, Nix. She’s from an advanced yoga class, man! We’re talkin’ Recycling Butterfly here!”

  “I know. It’s actually called, Reclining Butterfly, and I get it, but I don’t need a hook up and I don’t like being set up on dates. I’ve done that shit in the past and it was always awkward. Sexy lady but no chemistry, cute girl but not my type; it was always something, ya know? Not really into double dates anyway. I’m good. I’d rather just avoid it. I’ll help you with Judge Milford but you’ll have to find something else to bribe me with.”

  “I can send ya a pic so you can see her in advance.”

  “Why are you pushing this so hard, Tex?”

  “Nona said—”

  “Nah, I don’t want to hear anything else about Nona. Nona pushing you or not, this whole damn thing is fishy. You didn’t just think of this out of the blue.” There it was. The awkward wall of silence before confession time arrived. “Well, motherfucker? I’m waiting.”

  “All right,” the man said with a huff. Certainly Tex had to realize he couldn’t out bullshit a bullshitter. “I promised my wife that we would, okay?”

  “So you told her you had it in the bag? You fuckin’ weasel.”

  “Come on, man! I’ve been putting it off for months and now she’s got me backed up against a rock and a hard place. It’s date night. It’s her thing.”

  “What about your other friends?! Go bother them.”

  “…It’s complicated.”

  “Complicated my ass. This isn’t a Facebook status. I can’t believe you volunteered me for this shit, Tex.” Nixon went into his kitchen and grabbed a chilled bottle of water from the refrigerator. He snatched it as if it, too, had deeply offended him.

  “I didn’t at first. You’re my last option. All the other guys said no.”

  “Thanks. Nice tuh know I was your first choice. You’re a piece of shit, you know that?”

  They both burst out laughing.

  “Yeah, just make sure you come to the courthouse on Tuesday anyway. Help me find a way out of this shit.”

  Nixon twisted the cap and drank up. “I’ll swing through.”

  “Okay, and please consider the whole double date thing. It’ll only be an hour or two out of your entire miserable life. Help me get my wife off my back.”

  “Shave it, Bigfoot, and she won’t be able to hold on so fuckin’ tight.” Nixon disconnected the phone. He headed to the bathroom, the black and clear tiles there so glossy he could see his warped reflection in them. He turned on the shower and stepped in, letting his mind drift in a hazy daydream, somewhere between his high and lucidity.

  He grabbed the new body wash on the shelf he’d picked up by mistake. Jasmine and white tea. Far too sweet for his tastes. He popped it open and hoped for the best, lathering it on, and laughed.

  I gotta get rid of this shit but it’ll have to do for now.

  Suddenly, a wave of nostalgia came over him as the scent filled the enclosure. It was the name. Maybe the smell? Perhaps the sexy song playing through his speakers…. Then a face popped in his mind’s eye…

  Her name wasn’t Jasmine, though. It was Yasmine…

  He’d thought about her from time to time since her appointment at The Cage. He’d thought about other women, too, but Yasmine’s memory made an appearance far too often, like a breeze carrying the scent of a new day. He’d enjoyed bringing her to her knees. She was beautiful, successful, a little uppity and just his type, but what he’d loved most was that she’d been willing to step outside her comfort zone and hand over her trust. At least for one night. The complete opposite of her natural inclinations, no doubt. Her duality intrigued him, reminded him of himself. So much so, he was quite disappointed when she hadn’t called for another hook up. Maybe it was up to him to do something about this matter.

  And now here she is again… in my mind. Working the angles.

  Standing in the forefront.

  He thought about the torn piece of paper from the crystal jar once again. The words – the call to action.

  Was it a sign? He didn’t believe in such things… but just, maybe?

  For starters, the woman was absofuckinglutely gorgeous. Not a sham or a replica of beauty; it was all natural, real. Flawed. Valleys, freckles, mountains and moles. Smooth brown skin with a small scar on her ankle. A tattoo of a tiny angel on her upper thigh. Perfectly coiffed hair and nails. A bit of cellulite on her big, round, juicy ass, and it suited her. He didn’t care for fake asses and tits. They were fine, but not his preference. He loved her scent, the way her full, soft lips had felt against his. The bowing of her back when she took his deep thrusts. She was kinky, in denial… perhaps too smart for her own good. She had to be sharp as a fucking tack. Why? Because she knew better than to call…

  He picked up an autographed baseball his father had given him as a boy. As he studied the object, his thoughts drifted once again.

  I’m not a safe bet. She must usually play it safe. I was a divergent from her norm.

  That means if she broke out of her comfort zone once, she can do it again…

  I can make her do it again… Besides, I was the first to make her cum.

  Half the battle is already won…

  CHAPTER THREE

  Teacher’s Pet

  …Moments later

  He didn’t need perfection, but he knew what he liked and damn if she didn’t fit the bill.

  There was something intriguing about Yasmine besides her curvaceous figure and willingness to be ruled in bed. Sure, she was attractive and had a beautiful body, but the way she responded to him, and he to her, made a unique connection he couldn’t yet describe. He’d had plenty of good times at The Cage, created wonderful memories with lovely ladies from all walks of life, but this one… well, shit, this may have been the one that got away. She was an attorney like him, so she understood the demands of his work. That was a plus.

  Can I do this? I know if I contact this woman, I need to know what to say in advance. She’ll spot bullshit a mile away. Gotta play this cool. Do this right. Is this even what I want? Yeah… but I guess I also want reassurance that she’s worth the trouble. There are no guarantees in life. Just do it…

  Too many damn times his attempts to engage in a monogamous relationship in the past had backfired. He’d get a little close to some chick who made him think he could settle down, have one set of breasts, one ass, and one pussy for the rest of his natural born life. He didn’t like the idea of being tied down in the first place, but he began to question that cynical mindset. He’d heard so many stories of rock-solid marriages going up in smoke. His attorney friends had those tales in droves.

  Regardless, he had to admit a part of him was jealous of Tex. Tex would joke about fooling around but never did, and he admired that. He was envious of those few friends of his in good marriages. Those were rare though; his parents certainly hadn’t fit the bill. He loved them, even liked them… but marriage material? Nah, not by a long shot.

  Being committed is just so… I don’t know. It’s not even the commitment that bothers me. It’s all the bullshit that goes along with that. He shrugged. Maybe we aren’t supposed to be monogamous. We’re always craving someone else. But, in fairness, I’ve never been married. I have been in relationships though, and that was enough of a test. This shit doesn’t make sense.

  If it wasn’t some insecurities coming to the forefront, then there were other unsurmountable obstacles, things that simply couldn’t be fixed.

  Maybe something is wrong with me.

  No, I don’t really believe that. I accept myself for who I am. Why should I change because someone doesn’t like it? Fuck them. Fuck everyone.

  But then, he had to ask himself that damn question again when the little piece of paper returned to the forefront of his mind.

/>   Is it stopping me from getting what and who I want? I don’t tell people my real fucking name. I made an exception for her though…

  He closed his eyes and conjured the memory of her supple skin, the thick, textured waves of her hair. I came real hard with her… Damn. He’d had aftershocks when he’d climaxed with the woman, something that rarely happened. Her pussy was tight and soft, dripping wet. The way she rotated her hips into his thrusts, sucked him with enthusiasm and greed… and need. Her voice was naturally erotic, too. She pronounced her words so fucking proper and authoritative, English-schoolteacher-like, and yet, there was a sweetness to how she sounded. On top of that, she had a touch of street when she cursed, and all the pretenses went away.

  There’s so much she has to learn. There’s so much I could do with her… She has so much fucking potential. She’s open… She could be the one. No instant love here, but definite instant attraction. But it still lingers… That means something.

  He enjoyed her deep gazes, and the desire in her purr. How long has it been since I had her? A month? No… much longer, closer to two.

  He grabbed the phone and dialed his office.

  “Hi, Mr. Rossellini. I thought you were off today, honey?” his personal assistant said.

  “Yeah, I am, but I need somethin’.”

  “Sure. What can I help you with?”

  “I’m looking for a number, Julia, a fellow attorney.”

  “Is she in the Chicago area?”

  “Yeah, this is local. Her name is, uh… shit, hold on.” He searched his memory bank. I could always call Taz and ask what the lady’s last name was. As long as I give her the date of our appointment, she could look it up, but I don’t want to have to call Julia back. Shit. Damn it, I know this! What was her last name? He closed his eyes, pressed the palm of his hand to his forehead and thought hard. It was like Jasmine, I mean, Yasmine the princess. I mean the one from Aladdin… I remember that part, but the last name….

  “Mr. Rossellini? Are you still there?”

  “Yeah… hold tight.” Crown. No. Princess? Queen? King? Prince! THAT’S IT! “I got it. Yasmine Prince is her name.”

  “All right. Let’s see here.” He could hear Julia typing. “Found her! Are you ready to jot down her number down or do you just want me to text it to you?”

  “Just tell me. I’ll remember it.”

  “That’s right, Mr. Steel Trap Memory.” The lady laughed. “It’s 312-550-3081.”

  “Got it. Thanks, Julia. Don’t work too hard. Try to have a good weekend.”

  “I will, thank you, Mr. Rossellini.” He ended the call and headed to the walk-in closet, one of his favorite parts of the house. His suits were hanging neatly, all the ties and shoes organized just so. To the right was a massive chest of drawers and a hanging area for various get-ups he’d wear to The Cage. The space was outfitted with two floor-to-ceiling mirrors, built-in speakers, and bright, fluorescent lighting.

  This apartment was all that for him. He’d moved in right after his promotion and felt like a damn king within those walls.

  He took his time trying to decide which shirt to put on.

  “Alexa, call 312-550-3081.” He slid on his black boxer briefs while the dial tone played. By the fourth ring, he’d slid on a pair of jeans, too.

  “Hello, you’ve reached Attorney Yasmine Prince. I am unable to take your call right now. If this is an urgent matter, please call 312-550-4523 to reach the main office and ask for Mike Prussia. Otherwise, leave your name and number after the tone and I will get back with you as soon as possible. Thank you and have a great day.”

  “Yasmine, this is Raze… I mean…” He grinned and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Nixon. It’s Nixon Rossellini. We, uh, had an adventure.” He began to walk around a black and white chaise in his closet, sliding his finger along the Cherrywood varnish of the arms as he admired it so. “It was a couple or so months back. I’m sure you remember.”

  Flashes of her silky thighs around his waist as he drilled deep within her flooded his mind. “Look, I’ve been thinkin’ about you lately.” He casually returned to his shirts, thumbed through a few more, and snatched a light blue one off a black velvet hanger. He put it on. “I thought we were going to have an encore. Let’s get together and make that happen. Maybe tonight or tomorrow? Whatever your schedule permits. You can hit me back at 312-442-5499. Talk to ya soon. Alexa, disconnect.” He slipped on a pair of silk socks and his loafers, then made his way back into the bathroom to comb his hair. Meanwhile, he wondered what the hell was going on with him.

  I’m all in my head, today. Like this is really ridiculous. Tex calls me, we start talking about double dating, I get in the shower and smell the soap, the music is playing and bam! I think about this lady again! I can’t get her out of my mind. I finally decide that fuck this, I’m going to call her. I’m seriously losing my mind today because I know damn well why she didn’t call. You don’t have to be a rocket scientist to figure this shit out. The question now is, am I willing to fucking do what it takes to snatch her ass and am I willing to risk things getting serious and complicated if we take it beyond sex? Because that’s how women are. As soon as they fall in love with you, the shit hits the fan.

  Suddenly, his phone rang, stealing him away from his deliberations. He went to the closet where he’d inadvertently left it and answered with a big smile on his face.

  “Hey, angel… it’s you.” He bit into his lower lip as he leaned against the island dresser, his dick twitching in anticipation. Some natural daylight seeped through an uncovered window, giving an almost angelic glow to the room. ‘Séance’ by Iman played softly through the speakers. “Thank you for getting back to me so fast.”

  “Yes, well, I see no point in delaying the inevitable.”

  “Thrilled to hear from me, huh?” He suppressed laughter, knowing full well the woman had already begun her process of resisting and eliminating, subtracting and removing him, divided by zero, from the equation. She must do Common Core Mathematics…

  “Mr. Rossellini, I was honestly in shock when I played your message.”

  “Whoa, whoa… Mr. Rossellini? What is this, a job interview? Why so formal?”

  “I don’t know you.”

  “Lady, my entire fuckin’ big, Italian dick was in your mouth, balls deep. In fact, it was in every whole on your beautiful body. Repeatedly. Stop it. You missed me, didn’t you?” He smirked when he heard her clear her throat.

  “I never gave you my number,” she barked, clearly ignoring his question. “You must’ve gotten it from when I registered with The Cage. That is a violation of my privacy.”

  “I didn’t get it from The Cage and even if I did, that’s not a violation of your privacy per the agreement you fuckin’ signed. I’m privy to that information, since I was assigned to you and I’m a member of the team. I would be more than happy to forward you a copy if your recollection is foggy. Page 3, Section 5B, in case you have it on hand.” She huffed and the reaction only titillated him more. “Anyway, how I got your number isn’t important. You know why I’ve called. I’m ready for another adventure, just like I said. I wanna fuck you again… Are you free tonight?” He rested a finger on his chin.

  “Though I obviously enjoyed our time together that evening, Nixon, we—”

  “Nix… you can call me Nix. Everyone I consider a friend calls me Nix.”

  “Okay, Nix… as I was saying, though I enjoyed our time together, I think we should leave our adventure, as you called it, in the past.”

  He was quiet for a spell as he glanced towards the window in the closet. How beautifully it illuminated the place, made a way into the darkness. His view of the metropolitan was astonishing. Worth every dime.

  “Yasmine, I think you do want to see me. You’re a fuckin’ liar, but I understand. Of course, you’re a lawyer; it goes with the territory to tell some tall tales. That’s what we do.”

  “I would like to hang up now.”

  “We had crazy chemis
try.” Memories of her on top of him and below him throbbed within his brain. “If we didn’t, I would have never given you my business card. That’s not what I usually do. I like to keep a low profile. That was risky. You had to figure that out. I have just as much to lose now as you. What we did wasn’t illegal, but ya know, if word of it got to the wrong people it could cloud how they view us. I don’t give uh shit what people think of me, personally, but I have to consider my law firm. Their reputation is impeccable. Anyway, I think that you thought about me a lot, actually…”

  “I’m not surprised you think that. You came across as quite arrogant. Full of yourself,” she stated dryly. “And I don’t buy for one second that it was part of your ‘bad boyfriend’ routine. You played that role far too well. That’s who you are, to your core. Also, please let me make something clear. The fact I am an attorney doesn’t automatically make me a pathological liar. You may be projecting. Not all of us in this profession are untrustworthy.”

  “You think I really give a shit about that right now, Yasmine? Look, this is about us. I don’t give a fuck about who and what you are in that courtroom. I only care about what you do in the fucking bedroom. I am arrogant, but I can back that shit up and you know it. You know my work well.” He heard her swallow. “You never got me outta your mind, did you, baby? You probably think of me a lot when you play with yourself, run your fingers all over that sopping wet bearded clam. You ever look at a bearded clam? Looks just like a juicy pussy… your pussy.” He chortled as she hissed in disgust. “And you wanted to call me, didn’t you? Have me come over and finish you off because your finger can’t do what Raze can do. But because of how we met, and what I do and how I do it, you figured, ‘Why waste my time?’ He’s a dog… a nympho… a cheat… not worth the aggravation.” She was quiet on the other end, but all he could do was laugh. “I’m right. I know I’m right.”

  “Aren’t you all of those things, though? I mean, let’s be honest here. I had time to think afterwards, once the excitement wore off and I was able to come back to my senses and process everything. I had what I had with you, and yes, it meant something because I learned some new things about myself from a sexual standpoint that I didn’t realize, and that’s great. And yes, Nix, thank you for helping me to achieve that. You were the catalyst, but I am not looking for another hookup with you because it will make my life complicated. I don’t do drama. I do not want any wham bam, thank you, ma’ams. That’s not what I wish for in life. We had… something. An experience. I am using it to help me. You were merely a tool, a teacher. Now, the lesson is over.”