Decadence (3 page)

“What can I do?” I asked him, leaning in
close as I felt his hands in my hair, then easing down my back and
resting on my butt, cupping my cheeks.

“You can kiss me.” His voice had changed. It
was different and I knew what hearing that difference meant, but
before I put my lips against his I asked what I felt was
necessary.

“You sure you’re up for this tonight? You’re
the star of this show, remember?”

“Kiss me and see if I’m up for it,” I kissed
him, pushing him further against the wall; tongue fucked him as he
tongue fucked me right back.

In one swift movement he turned me around and
had me pinned, my back up against the wall, stealing my every
breath, letting me a taste a flavor that was familiar to me.

When he moved away from me ever so slightly,
our lips still touching in a teasing way, he said, just above a
whisper, “I’m not the star. We’re co-stars. Don’t forget that.”

“Are we gonna do this?” I couldn’t help being
worried about him now.

“I just needed this quality time with you, I
think,” he said to me, looking into my eyes, running his fingers
through my hair. “It helped me put things in perspective.”

“What’s your perspective now?”

“On loving you from head to toe, from your
knees to your clit, to your tits to your lips. I want to make you
cum so many times you forget the last few days you had. I want to
go to sleep kissing you. I want to wake up kissing you.”

He kissed me again. Kissed me so good I got
wet, or at least wetter than I already was.

He eased his tongue out of my mouth, licked
tentatively over my lips, tasted what was left of my Pina Colada
flavored lip gloss along with the drink he’d bought me inside the
club. His kisses went lower. He eased down the top of my tube dress
and exposed my already hard nipples. We might’ve been in a private
garage, but anybody could still walk in, walk by. Anybody could see
me. See us. See him licking and sucking my nipples as if they were
really mocha flavored, as if I tasted the way I looked. Sweet like
coffee filled with sugar and just the right amount of cream so your
java was still strong and potent. I threw my head back, arched my
back as I angled towards him and moaned as he worked his mouth over
my 34Bs, as if he’d been waiting to do it all week since the last
time we’d made love. Made love. Fucked. Sexed one another till we
couldn’t move. It was rare when you found someone you could have
all three of those things with; rarer still when you get all of
that in one night.

The last time we’d been together was seven
days ago and it had been one-on-one time. He’d run the tub for me
at his place, got the water nice and steamy, gave me a hot oil
massage in the tub as I soaked. After the massage he’d washed me,
soaped me down with a towel and then wiped it all away, drained the
tub, then climbed into the shower with me, held my hips as my palms
were splayed against the tiles of the shower, as he eased inside of
me and out of me too many times to count, made me scream and cum as
hot water rained down on us and the steam in the bathroom became as
thick as a heavy fog. I hadn’t felt that good in a long while.

Then Scott had had to come along with his
bullshit and mess it all up, taking away any and all of those
residual good feelings I’d had.

But now Chris was trying to do me a solid,
trying to erase what couldn’t be erased, but he was going to put
forth his best effort, that much I could tell. He was already
making it up to me in ways I could definitely repay him. Ways that
I was looking forward to repaying.

He put one of his hands between my thighs,
and then I felt two of his fingers as they slid over my slit,
played with me, teased me before he eased them inside me as he
started finger fucking me. Sucking my nipples, back and forth
between the left and right one so neither got jealous, as he
slammed his fingers inside my sweet spot, the most sacred area of
my body, the one that gave pleasure and pain, sometimes both at the
same time, over and over again. He curved his fingers, found what
he was looking for and started to rub that dime-sized circle on the
inside of me that amplified the pleasure I felt times infinity as I
grabbed onto him, as I felt my eyes roll to the back of my head, as
I let myself go and let him take me nirvana in that carnal way, on
that journey the mortal body was so fond on taking, experiencing,
reveling in, enjoying…getting lost in.

***

Back in the club I felt different than I had
when we’d first arrived. I felt better. Infinity times ten fold
kind of better, but I knew that feeling could improve with time.
Chris looked more relaxed as well even though he hadn’t gotten the
brand of stress relief I’d received.

We didn’t say much to one another, but every
once in a while he’d lean over and kiss me on the lips, on the
cheeks, or on the neck, and then give me that look that almost made
me want to tell him to lets skip out on the earlier plans and go
back to one of our places, get into one of our own beds, just be
with one another.

I looked around the bodies all huddled
together, gyrating together, laughing, drinking, talking, thinking
about what they were going to do later on. Oasis was definitely a
change of pace for us. Our usual spot was Mirage, a strip joint not
far from Oasis that featured some of the most beautiful girls,
professional girls that knew how to make fantasies a reality. If
the price was right. And neither Chris nor I scorned the thought of
paying for such real life fantasies. The girls at Mirage that we
chose to bring back to the condo with us were all “tens”, and we
may have paid them for that one time, but if we ever hooked up with
them again it was at their own discretion, no charge, and we were
all able to let our minds run as wild as we wanted, wherever our
desires led us. Though we rarely made one single girl a repetitive
escapade. Chris and I understood one another; we knew where we
stood emotionally. Adding a third person to the mix complicated
things; a third person could end up getting more feelings involved
or more of an attachment to one or both of us that we hadn’t
bargained for. Therefore, Chris and I played it safe when inviting
another person into our bed. We had our own set of rules that we
played by to ensure a minimal amount of drama. The last thing
either of us needed was more drama. We had enough for three
lifetimes.

Chris and I were two people who were both
explicitly available in every way to one another and yet we didn’t
belong to one another, didn’t have those titles given to people
that solidified us as a couple in a committed relationship. What we
had was modern, ours was the evolution of relationships that didn’t
need to be defined or labeled. We were the future. Unbridled.
Unburdened when it came to one another. We represented escape, fun
and comfort, no more, no less, and yet it was more than enough.

He was being attentive toward me, but he was
back in the game. I could tell. His gaze was a lot more focused
than it had been before.

“You see the girl with the pink hair?” he
nodded toward a big breasted dynamo with a lusciously curvy figure,
a beautiful face done up beautifully with flawlessly applied
makeup, a nice body hugging mini dress, six inch heels, and…pink
hair. The style was nice, but…

“I think I’ll pass on that,” I said gently.
“I don’t want to think about cotton candy or clowns while I’m
trying to climb to the top of the mountain.”

“Alright, alright,” he gave way to an easy
laugh, patted my knee and leaned in to give me a kiss. He was
playing along but he was stressed, I could both see it and hear it;
he was a neon sign of anxiety. But I could tell that he was making
an effort as he went back to scanning our prospects.

The club is packed, but I think we spotted
her at the same time, or maybe Chris saw her a few seconds before I
did because I could swear that his body tensed and he paused, his
eyes fixed on that corner of the room same as mine.

She was beautiful, in the shadows, alone. A
wallflower in the midst of a gang of raging willows.

“You see her, don’t you?” Chris asked me, his
voice sounding as if he’d stepped into a dream world. I felt like I
was in one.

“Yeah, I see her.”

She was one of those girls
that were perfectly imperfect. A little on the short side, about
five feet one by my guesstimate, and I didn’t usually go for short,
and neither did Chris, but I couldn’t help but take her in. Long
dark honey colored hair that dipped below the middle of her back
and had been slightly curled. The color wasn’t natural, but it
suited her caramel complexion, and it looked as if it were all, or
at least mostly, her own homegrown locks. She had a baby face that
made her look shy and naughty all at once. Dichotomy. Erotic. Sexy.
She was just asking to get drilled and licked, sucked and fucked,
initiated into our world of hedonism. Her makeup wasn’t perfect,
not like the girl’s with the pink hair, but it was nice, natural
and complementary. Pink lipstick or gloss, I couldn’t quite tell
from the distance where we were, a little bit of blush, eyeliner,
mascara, her eyebrows were not over or under done, belly button
ring that wasn’t a stud, but a sparkly chandelier type piece that
shone every time the light hit it, calling attention to her.
Nowhere near fat, but she wasn’t skinny either. From where we were
spying her she looked as if she had a nice little figure, but I’d
been fooled before.

“Are you approaching her, or should I?” Chris
asked me, still distracted by what I was already thinking of as our
little nymphet, our cute little plaything, our gorgeous girl
toy.

“You,” I said without hesitation. “I’m not
getting a read on her. She’s not checking out girls or guys, just
standing there looking cute as hell.”

“You mean sexy as fuck,” Chris corrected me
without looking at me. He was sprung. That hadn’t happened in a
long while, and it so rarely happened immediately the way I was
watching it all unfold.

“She’s got an armband on,” I pointed out. She
could drink. She was twenty-one, despite the fact that she looked
about eighteen at the most. “Check the nails; get a good look at
all twenty of them if she’s wearing open toe shoes. The last girl
we took back with us she had jacked up feet. Everything else was
right, but her damn feet, Chris…”

“I hear you baby,” he told me, his eyes still
fixed to that corner as he started to get up from his seat.

I watched him walk away from me. I watched
him move through the crowd, making his way to the beauty with the
innocently wicked face that had captured Chris’s attention almost
instantly.

Chris got his share of
rejection from women every now and again, but he could win most of
them over if not with his looks, then his charm. He was six feet
two, two hundred and five pounds, had a lean muscular build. He
could double for Channing Tatum any given day, and he had a smooth
swagger to go with his sex appeal. I’d met a lot of guys in my day
that had the look, but no game. A lot of guys couldn’t hold a
conversation for shit and they wondered why some of the girls they
hooked up with weren’t calling them back. Looks weren’t everything.
The fact that you had a job or made a lot of money wasn’t all of it
either. I was bringing home more money than Chris to be honest. In
spite of the fact that a lot of my money was going towards legal
fees as of late, I was still living cushy; even if I didn’t get a
dime from my divorce settlement, whenever it was finally (and
mercifully) settled, I would be more than alright. Women were doing
their thing now when it came to the career game
and
when it came to the
bedroom. We were telling men what we wanted and how we wanted it,
not just taking it however they decided to give it. Men either had
to step their game up to match ours, or settle with coming up short
and ending up falling back.

I was watching the two of them together,
little miss honey blond hair and caramel colored skin was smiling a
pearly white smile. She took care of her teeth. Good sign. Great
sign. Chris knew the deal, and if he couldn’t remember all of my
hang-ups, he had his own standards. Bad breath was a definite
no-no. He knew to walk away from that and never look back. Also, no
one with too much perfume; that was just as much of a bad sign as a
girl with BO. Check for dandruff, and an over flush of stretch
marks. The last thing we needed was some crazy baby daddy beating
down our door looking for his wayward baby mama. You always took
chances bringing home a stranger. It was exciting and scary. There
were so many things to check for, so many things that could go
wrong, but then there were so many others that could go right.

Chris was still talking to her. She was
swaying to the beat as if there was a part of her that couldn’t
help but respond to the rhythm with her own rhythm. I was liking
her already.

She looked over at me; I’d already had my
gaze locked on them, so our eyes met. Held. She gave way to a
bashful smile. Kept some of her attention on me even as she turned
toward Chris again.

She lifted up her hand, gave me a tiny little
wave. Cute, girly, sexy. So many bad thoughts were running through
my mind along with so many other thoughts that were anticipating
good things, pleasurable things, things that I’d been looking
forward to all night. I had needs that extended far beyond what I’d
gotten in the parking garage. I wanted more than an orgasm, I
wanted a show. I wanted to be entertained. I wanted to feast on
what I’d been craving for a while and had been deprived of.

I wanted to taste the girl with the caramel
complexion to see if she was really as sweet as she looked.

They both started smiling, looked my way.
Chris motioned for me to come over. Little Miss Honey-and-Caramel
was still standing by his side.