“It isn’t.” Charlene sighed, holding her head in her hands. A sinking sensation filled her chest.
“I didn’t think it would be. I’d really like to be able to tell you that, for you, he’s going to change.” Bella’s voice trailed off as she spoke.
Charlene raised her head to look squarely at her. “But you don’t think he is.”
“No. I really don’t.” She paused. The look she fixed on Charlene was sympathetic. “It’s up to you, hon. The glass is half empty, or it’s half full. Only you can decide which.”
It seemed that the conversation was over, but then Bella said, “Has he even told you what he does for a living?”
“No. I’ve been afraid to ask. I’m guessing it’s something on the edge of the law, or even the wrong side of the law. I don’t think I’d want to know about that, so I stay away from the subject.”
Bella laughed. “Well, you’d better go on staying away from it. Or, at least, don’t tell him I told you. This is all part of his...”
“His what?” Charlene held her breath, feeling her heart pound.
“I don’t know what you’d call it. His mystery, I suppose. Baptiste loves to be surrounded by mystery. He’d love to know that you think he might be doing something illegal. In fact, he’s the manager of a gym. And as for illegal things, I happen to know that when he took over that gym it was a nest of drug dealers. Baptiste cleared them out, every one of them. He hates hard drugs and he hates the people who deal them. But don’t tell him you know any of this. Let him carry on with the mystery. Where’s the harm?”
Charlene was lost in thought. It’s like he needs to keep a distance; a protective distance...
Chapter 4
Walking home, Charlene turned over in her mind Bella’s closing words. ‘It’s up to you, hon. The glass is half empty, or it’s half full. Only you can decide which.’
Only she could decide. So, which was it?
Was she ready to give up? She wasn’t. She loved this man. She had dreamed about a life spent together and she was not ready to let go of that dream. She may be wrong. She may be crazy. But she would persevere. And she would put no pressure on him at all. She was going to set up a little room in her heart. She was going to take all her ideas about marriage and children and tuck them into a little box, and lock the box, place the box in the little room, and lock the door to the room. If anyone opened that door, it would have to be Baptiste.
Was she fooling herself? Was she in denial? What made her any different than the other women who’d loved him. She was determined to be different!
Some parts of the new plan were easily put into effect. Those were mostly the bedtime parts. Charlene paid great attention to what turned Baptiste on. She experimented, sexually, and she noted what he responded to with warmth and what left him cold.
Sucking his cock, for example. She would spend what seemed like ages hunched over, her fingers gently stroking the skin behind his balls while her tongue wrapped itself around the tall and inflamed member. She would continue like that until his whimpers of urgent need became overwhelming, and then she would give herself to him. Sometimes, that meant sitting above and sinking slowly as she impaled herself on him. Sometimes, it meant wrapping her arms around him, lying on her back and rolling him so that he was over her and then taking hold of this cock she had come to love so much and feeding it into her. Sometimes, he would take over, the demands of his imperious lust too powerful to be delayed any longer.
When she was above him, she had the most wonderful feelings of being in control and she used the muscles inside her vagina to bring him to his climax – as she brought herself to her own. When he was on top, the satisfaction was as great, though it expressed itself in a different way: she was being taken, cherished, brought to stunning climax by the man she loved.
Had any woman ever, in the history of the world, been this content?
And, still, she was fooling herself. She needed a magic elixir.
THERE WERE SIX OF THEM at work – four waitresses and two waiters. The staff in a busy restaurant don’t have much time to socialize. It’s easy for people to work together in this way for a long time and know very little about each other, because conversation times are few and far between. Of all those she worked with, Charlene liked Nancy the best. She always tried, when it was time for her break, to take it at the same time as Nancy took hers, and it seemed as though Nancy felt the same way, because they found themselves more often than not in the back room having coffee together.
Still, Charlene did not know a great deal about Nancy. She knew that Nancy had a partner, Jose, who was a dancer and as often out of work as in it, so that Nancy was the main breadwinner for the two of them and their five-year-old boy, Lorenzo. She knew that Nancy encountered improper suggestions from male visitors to the restaurant as often as she did herself, and some of the ways she had developed of refusing those advances without causing offense were tricks she had learned from Nancy. She also knew that Nancy had a repertoire of sexual maneuvers that, when she first heard about them, made her cover her mouth with her hand, open her eyes wide, laugh uproariously, and say, “You didn’t!”
But Nancy was adamant. “He’ll love it! Any man loves it. But make sure he’s had a shower before you try this. And have one yourself. And, if you possibly can – if there’s room – get in the shower with him.”
“But, why, Nancy? That would be a bit cramped.”
“So you can put soap all over your fingers and then stick them up his... You know... His...”
“His what?”
“His ass, Charlene! You need to get his ass as clean as an ass can be.”
Charlene was so convulsed with laughter she was almost in tears. “But, Nancy! Why on earth do I want him to have a clean ass? A clean cock, yes, I agree – I’d much rather clamp my lips around a clean cock than one he’s been carrying around in his pants all day. But his ass? What on earth for? What am I going to do with his ass?”
“You’re going to lick it, girl.”
The laughter now had so overwhelmed Charlene that it was all she could do to stay in her chair. “Lick it! Lick his ass? Are you crazy?”
“And then, he’ll want to lick yours, which is why you need to make sure yours is clean, too. A man licks an unclean ass once in his life, he’s never going to do it again.”
Charlene took a bunch of tissues from a box on the table to wipe her eyes. “We’re back out there in three minutes. I’m gonna have to repair my face. Nancy, be honest, now. You are joking. Aren’t you?”
Nancy shook her head. “Never been more serious in my life, girl. It’s called rimming.”
“Rimming?”
“Rimming. It started with gay men, but it’s spread into the straight world now. And, I’m telling you, men love it. Do this to Baptiste, he’ll never be able to get enough of it. And then, when he realizes how good it is, he’ll want to do it to you. And then you’ll know how good it is, too. I’m telling you, Charlene – you can get off just through rimming. You can orgasm that way.”
“Look, Nancy, let’s just get this right. When you say, ‘lick his ass,’ you mean his buttocks, don’t you? The cheeks of his ass. His buns.” And Baptiste, she thought, had wonderful buns. Buns you really wanted to get your hands on. Or your tongue.
But Nancy was shaking her head. “Buns, nothing. Sure, you start out kissing there. Out on his nice plump ass cheeks. And you go on kissing all the way in, until you’re right into that puckered little rosebud. You’ll probably have to press his cheeks apart for that. And that’s when you start licking.”
Charlene’s eyes were wide. She could scarcely believe what she was hearing. “You lick the actual...?”
Nancy nodded. “The actual rosebud itself. Yessirree. And you want to know something amazing? It opens. The tip of your tongue will go inside. Not a long way – you might want to have some KY Jelly to rub on your social finger so you can put that in. In fact, that’s a good idea, because once you’ve got your fin
ger in there, get him to roll over onto his back without dislodging your finger and if you keep that finger going in and out of his ass at the same time you’ll give him the greatest blow job he ever experienced in his whole life. Listen, girl, we have to go back to work. Just try it. Okay? I promise you, you’ll thank me forever.”
But Charlene wasn’t quite done yet. “My social finger? Which is my social finger?”
Nancy lifted Charlene’s hand and took hold of the middle finger. “When Baptiste puts a finger in your sweet little muff, which finger does he use?”
“That one. The one you’re holding.”
“And that, girl, is why men call that finger their social finger. And it’s also your longest finger, which is why it’s the ideal one to work his ass with.”
And Nancy walked out of the room to go back to work, leaving Charlene, once again, breathless and laughing.
Chapter 5
When Baptiste opened the door of his apartment to the woman who had knocked, Charlene was at work. Looking briefly at her standing there, he saw a sophisticated-looking older African-American woman.
“I’m looking for Charlene Armstrong,” she told him.
“She won’t be back until nearly midnight.”
“Oh. Okay. Will she be here tomorrow?” The woman raised an eyebrow.
Who is this woman? How much do I tell her? But she had a warm smile, her skin crinkling attractively around her eyes, and he liked her instantly. “In the morning. She usually gets up around ten. She leaves for work at about midday.”
“That’s a long day.”
“It is. Charlene is a very hard worker. Who shall I say called?”
“I’m sorry, I should have said. I’m her mother’s sister. Charlene knows me as Aunt May.”
He smiled broadly. “Ah. Please. Come in. I’ve heard so much about you. Let me get you some coffee.”
She followed him into the apartment, sitting in the chair he indicated. “Thank you. That’s very kind. Although tea would be more welcome, if you have it.”
When he came back from the kitchen with the tea, he could see that Aunt May was taking a close interest in her surroundings. She said, “Have you and Charlene been together for long?”
“Since not long after her mother died.” He set her tea cup in front of her, and sat opposite.
“That long! I had quite a job finding where she was. I only had the old address and her – well, my sister’s – telephone number.” She fiddled with her ear-ring.
“It must have been difficult. And I don’t think Charlene is on Facebook. Or any other kind of social networking,” Baptiste agreed.
“It wouldn’t have helped me if she had been. I don’t even have a computer. I don’t use any of that stuff.” She gave her head a little shake.
“So how did you? Find where she was, I mean.”
“Well, when I found that phone number was disconnected, I decided to come up here. I’m staying with an old friend. I was brought up here, you know. Well, obviously, because this is where Charlene’s mother grew up, too. The friend has a son and a daughter about Charlene’s age. They asked around for me, and... Well. Here I am.”
Baptiste smiled. “A happy ending. She certainly hasn’t been avoiding you. Just busy. Do you plan to move back here?”
“Oh, I don’t think so. California has been my home for so many years... That’s where my friends are... You know, when you reach my age, your friends matter a great deal. As long as you still have them, that is. You go to so many funerals, you realize you’re shuffling towards the front of the line. My friend - he’s a few years older than I am - says that, after a while, the number of funerals reduces and eventually there aren’t any. He says that’s when you know you’re not moving towards the front of the line. You’ve reached it.” She cackled, leaning back in her chair; a warm, friendly sound.
“I’m sure it will be many years yet...”
“You don’t need to flatter me, young man. When it’s my turn, I’ll be ready.” Her bushy eye-brows furrowed, and she looked him in the eye. “How did you and Charlene get together?”
Baptiste paused to recall the incident that had introduced him to Charlene. “I’ll let her tell you that, if you don’t mind.”
She peered intently at him. “Don’t mind at all. That usually means that it’s a story that does you credit.”
Baptiste shrugged.
Aunt May set down her now empty teacup. “Well, that was very nice. Thank you so much. I must be getting back now. Let Charlene know I was here, would you? Tell her I’ll drop in about ten tomorrow.”
“I will, of course. The day after tomorrow is Charlene’s day off. Perhaps you’d like to come and have dinner with us then?”
“That’s very kind. I’ll talk to Charlene about it. It will be just in time, because the day after that is when I plan to go back home. Though I might stay one more day... I’ll see how it feels. You know, staying with an old friend I haven’t seen for so many years is very tiring. We never stop talking about how things used to be. The people we used to know. The things we used to do.”
“What’s the friend’s name? Charlene may know her.”
There was a trace of a smile on Aunt May’s lips. “Her name is Michael. Michael Rooney.”
“I’m sorry, I just assumed...” A flush crept across his cheeks.
“A natural assumption. And he might as well be another woman, for all we get up to now. But I haven’t always been this age, Baptiste.” And now the smile was there in full, along with a twinkle in her eye. “And neither has he.”
“I was so embarrassed,” said Baptiste later when he was telling Charlene about her aunt’s visit. “She as good as told me that she and this guy, Michael Rooney, used to get it on.”
“Did she? Seem embarrassed, I mean.” Charlene chuckled.
“Not in the slightest,” said Baptiste, grinning.
“That’s my Aunt May! No reason why you should, then. Are you very tired, sweet-heart?” She licked her lips slowly, glancing coyly at him through her eye-lashes.
“I’m not, no. Why do you ask?” He smiled knowingly.
“Do you think we could get into the shower together?” She ran her fingers up and down his massive chest.
“Is it big enough, you mean? Yes, I should think we could. But why...?” He looked upon her with affection glowing in his eyes.
“A conversation I had earlier with Nancy at work.”
“About showering together?”
“Mmm. Sort of. Shall we try it?”
It wasn’t until Charlene had maneuvered her way behind him, soaped her fingers and begun to work them between the cheeks of his ass that Baptiste began to see the point of this joint showering. “By all that’s wonderful,” he gasped. “You should talk to Nancy more often.”
Peering over his shoulder, Charlene saw that his cock was standing bolt upright. She said, “I never would have believed it. The inside of your ass is just like silk. That’s exactly what it feels like: wrapping my finger in firm silk.”
“Let me see.” And he turned her around, soaped his own fingers, and pressed them into her. “Oh, God, that’s wonderful. Is this what Nancy said we should do?”
Charlene turned off the flow of water. “It’s the beginning of what Nancy said we should do. If we towel ourselves dry now, and go to bed together, I’ll show you what Nancy says comes next.”
She began by telling him to lie naked, face down on the bed. Pressing his knees apart, she knelt between his legs. Then she kissed him gently on the ass, moving her lips kissing and nuzzling his beautiful beefy buttocks. Baptiste lay contentedly, making little purring noises. She slid her mouth down the slope of an ass cheek towards the center, and the moans became louder and louder. “Oh! Oh, God, Charlene! Fuck! What are you...” And then a long drawn out “Aaaahh”. Charlene slapped him playfully on the ass.
“I hope you’re not going to waste that erection, my darling. I have plans for it in a little while.” And she returned to her task
. And now she was there, and her tongue had reached the rosebud at the very center of his ass, and she was licking it. And licking it. And licking it. And it was true – exactly as Nancy had forecast, Baptiste’s ass was opening to her. And now she realized the central glory of this act, because Baptiste was completely vulnerable. He was in her hands. She was completely in control of him. If her intentions towards him had been devious, there would have been nothing he could do about it.
But her intentions were as good as they could possibly be. She reached out a hand for the tube of jelly that she had placed where she would be able to reach it, and ran it over her finger. When she slipped that finger inside him, as far as it would go, the sound he made would be best described as something approaching a scream. She said, “Do you think, Baptiste, that you could possibly turn over onto your back without shaking my finger loose?”
Baptiste said something that she thought must have been, “I’ll try,” and he did, indeed, turn over, and the finger was, indeed, still inside. Gazing at him, Charlene thought that she had never seen this wonderful cock so big. So hard. So long. She ran her tongue from the base of his balls slowly all the way to the tip of his knob and, as she did so, Baptiste kept up a steady flow of “Oh! Oh! Oh!” Then she took him into her mouth. And now it began. With her finger moving slowly in and out of his ass, she began what Nancy had said would be the best blow job of his life. All the evidence said that Nancy had not been exaggerating. When it was clear that Baptiste was absolutely on the verge of his climax, he put his hands on her shoulders and tried to move her away, but she simply swept them from her. He was going to know this climax, come what may. And then he was crying out, and his wonderful knob was pulsing, and sperm was shooting into her mouth.
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