Fiona Love (11 page)

“Could be. Seems l
ike it worked okay this time.” She reached around and slapped his ass, forcing him forward as he fought to stay motionless. She popped him again, hard enough to make a good loud sound. “You like my new ring?” she splayed her right hand against the headboard.

He thrust in slow, letting her feel it. He couldn’t hold the ace though. When his hips rested against the curves of her ass he drew back immediately and surged in hard.

“Jesus, girl. You’re gonna fuckin’ kill me.”

“Shut up,” she gasped;
he’d caught onto a rhythm.

He groaned and came down over her back for a hot, soft moment. She writhed sinuously beneath him, working herself onto the hard heat filling her. She knew he was trying to slow down so it could last, but she couldn’t help squirming. She began to breathe through her mouth. S
he arched her back and pulled one of his hands around to stroke her clit.

“Can’t hold it?” she asked, whe
n he stopped moving completely.

“I’m…trying to.”

She chuckled at the gritted words, and clenched her sheath teasingly around him. He rewarded her with anguished moan, and she began to play a physical game of cat and mouse. She’d hunch her body and withdraw almost to the tip then press back to push him leisurely back in. She did it fast and slow, then mixed it up with a series of both, all like velvet-lined blows on his cock.

Daney had never concentrated so hard in his life. His balls felt like they were trying to crawl inside his body. He wished for a third hand, not wanting to remove his two from her breast and the so
ft, eager wet heat of her sex.

Fiona knew what he wanted. She
hilted him and reached back to give his balls a firm but gentle tug. He jerked and panted then groaned out his thanks.

Neither of them could hold out much longer. Daney was primed from his interactions with the strippers. Fiona could smell the women’s perfume clinging to him, and always excited by the sight and smell of her lover she was also incredibly aroused at
the thought of another woman trying to be where she was. He’d left them to find her, and she could tell that he hadn’t come.

He was always heated like this for that first nut of the night. He’d struggle not to come too fast, though she never minded, not with second and sometimes third time
s to look forward to.

Her body had slipped into that perfect state where
she could come at any moment, but it just feels good on top of good on top of good. But Fiona felt her mind begin to go. The pleasure was too intense, rising too steady. She was losing control.

Focus, she told
herself. This is Daney’s party. But that was the problem. She was too focused, focused on the pleasure building, riding her in fast cresting waves. She could only hope he was with her and pray he didn’t stop moving before the ride was over.

“Daney,” she ga
sped to warn him she was close.

“Yes, yes,” he groaned, and they came within seconds of each other in
a shower of shudders and gasps.

Fiona shivered when he slipped free of her body
and fell forward onto her nose.

Daney dealt with the condom and collapsed beside her, pulling her into his arms as they succumbed to one of those dive down under the covers and conk out after a great fuck sleeps. Neither moved an hour later when Tino knocked and
poked his head around the door.

“They still up?” Netty rasped, hoarse from smoking and yelling during beer-drinki
ng games for minor sexual acts.

He pulled back and closed the door on an image of Fiona’s beautiful brown body protectively surrounded by Daney’s hard pal
e strength. “Naw. They’re out.”

Netty began to load the dishwasher. “He’s gotta fly out
for a week to Miami. But he’s coming back for the party.”

Tino listened to this information with interest. He brought some beer bottles over and emptied them into the sink. He began to help Netty clean, something he hadn’t done in years, and found ou
t Fiona didn’t plan on taking Daney to the airport. He always ordered a car.

Once they had the kitchen tight, Netty yawned. “Tha’s good. The living room’s not bad. I stayed on it during the party. Is ev
erybody asleep or out of here?”

“My boys left with the girls, and everyone else took cabs home.” He yawned and pushed up his t-shirt
to scratch at the soft hair on his chest. “I’m tired.”

“I don’t think ther
e are any empty bedrooms left.”

“Couch. Unless you’re sharing?”

“Would it matter if I said no? You just gon’ wait ‘til I’m sleep and crawl in anyway.”

******

Daney got back from Miami the night of Fiona’s party.

“I’m landing in 10 minutes. Then I’m going home to change clothes, and I’m all yours,” h
e told her late that afternoon.

“You sound tired.”

“I am,” he laughed.

“Take you a power nap before you come over. Things probab
ly won’t get rollin’ til’ 11.”

This was bull
shit. Andrea had called at noon to say that so many people were trying to get in they’d have to show up at least an hour before they’d anticipated.

“
Power nap, huh?”

“Yup. Lay your clothes out, take a shower, then set your alarm. You could catch a few hours and not miss anything.”

“Except you.”

Fiona laughed softly. “True.
But you’ll get me soon enough.”

“Nuh-huh. You’ll be surrounded by your friends and fans, Andrea and the rest of your posse, and I won’t be able to get near you.
”

“Never. You’ve got a
direct line to my heart.”

He grunted whenever she said anything like that, but he secretly loved it. He knew these
little lyrical gems were original, spontaneous and his. She didn’t interact with other men the way she did with him, and he’d seen her with more than one, including Tino.

She’d never actually told him that he loved him, but he
believed she did. She was different with him. She treated him special, with tenderness and patience. He knew he stayed on her mind. She’d told him so.

******

Fiona’s first outfit was a rich jewel purple vintage dress Netty had found at a thrift store. It was at least 15 years old, in immaculate condition and it fit her as though it had been hand-tailored. The skirt hugged her hips, fell perfectly to her knees, and at her waist ruchs gathered around a diamond made of colored sequins. She looked like a rich bad girl from Dynasty, and people went crazy when they saw her.

Netty watched as her boss
waved at the crowd waiting in a neat line down Tino’s front walkway. Many waved back with their invitations in hand. “You ain’t got nothin’ to say to me tonight?” she teased, already seeing spots from the camera flashes.

“Happy birthday!” sh
outed a chorus of eager voices.

“Is this shit gon’ stay up?” Netty asked
Sugar, patting Fiona’s natural and the tiny, strategically placed silver pins that glinted even in dim lighting. She’d suggested painting finger and toenails a glittery pearl color. Fiona had contributed two glasses of Veuve Clicquot to the proceedings, and when she glided up to the door on black stilettos with big purple rhinestones shining, her warm smile would have loosened the hardest heart.

Andrea met them
.

“Y
ou shoulda used the limo. Everyone in the world is trying to get in!” she hissed happily, towing Fiona past the burly man and jazzily dressed Black girl working the door to where Tino was waiting with more champagne.

Netty caught the look Fiona tossed over her shoulder. It said clearly, come get me soon! She chuckled and helped herself to one of the canapés making the rounds.
“Hear no evil, speak no evil,” she said, snagging a glass of champagne next before merging with the crowd.

Fiona danced for hours. Big had
dug deep into his crates and intertwined her favorite new and old cuts with Cleo and Netty’s help. God bless them. Queen Latifah’s U-N-I-T-Y began to rock.

A
photographer trailed her as she danced her way from group to group, laughing and collecting compliments and quite a few gifts. She opened everything right there in front of the person in a great fanfare of ripped wrapping paper. Then she gushed ecstatically and gifted the giver with a hug, a kiss or both. Gag gifts had her rolling her eyes and guffawing before she spun away to demand of someone, “Look at this crazy shit!”

The
loot was then passed off to one of Andrea’s girls who noted carefully who’d given it. Let one thank you note be wrong, Andrea promised threateningly. Another one followed behind Fiona all night taking empty glasses, fetching napkins, snacks, whatever. Fiona only had to turn with a questioning look on her face and one of two mini-Andreas was there waiting.

“Remind me to give Andrea an’ ‘nem a lil’ bonus after the party,” she told Netty who nodded and steered her toward someone else waiting to speak to her. “Was up mu’fu
cka! I ain’t seen you in fa’eva’!”

After Fiona had partied herself into a sweaty mess, Sugar wiped her down, and Netty bundled her into her next costume, a black strapless satin dress with a loose mini skirt that rippled and swung as she walked in black ballerina flats. The pins were removed from her hair, which was then pulled into a high crown by a hot pink gele
head wrap. Her skin was glowing from dancing and laughing, and while she was being helped into her lace gloves, Fiona managed to blow half a joint.

“Girl, you know you look good,” said a handsome Black actor who’d been on a popular soap for years. They’d flirted on and off when their paths crossed, but he was happily married, and she liked his
wife enough to tease their now 11-year-old son. When he’d been a rambunctious 5-year-old she’d taken him for the day, and when it was time for him to go home he’d demanded to spend the night. Fiona still sent gifts and called on his birthday.

“Thank you, s
ir. So do you. Where yo’ girl?”

“At home of course,” he quipped. “So I can flirt and pretend like I’m single for the evening. I’ma catch up later to get a real birthday kiss.” He laughed, kissing her hand before someone pulled her away.

Daney came in not long after her second costume change, greeted her with a hard squeeze, then fastened a necklace around her throat.

“Now you know why I didn’t put
jewelry on you,” Netty grinned.

Fiona looked down to admire the subtle sheen of the black pearls and the brighter shine of the diamonds that separated them. The necklace was beautiful, and she knew it had cost an absolute fortune. Tears welled.

“Oh, shit,” Netty muttered, raising her hand discreetly for Sugar.

“You don’t like it?” he teased, clasping her hand high against his chest, the o
ther gripped her waist possessively as a camera flashed.

“It’s fabulous,” she husked, sniffing and swiping at her eyes with a careless hand, the hand where his last gift sparkled. “Thank you, love.”

Sugar appeared to deftly wield cloths, spritz and slicks of shiny moisture for pouting lips.

“You smell powdery,” he whispered, ignoring Sugar’s anguished squeak as he rubbed his nose along the skin behind
Fiona’s ear.

Fiona could
feel him smiling, and she grinned.

“I know, right? Like a baby’s ass. Sugar keeps cleaning me with wipes.” She batted her beauty girl away, but Sugar just shook her head and moved determinedly close again to begin repairs.

“You glow,” he said and would have kissed away most of the newly applied gloss had Sugar not clapped her hand over his mouth. She squeaked again when Daney bit her. “I can’t get no love so I’m goin’ for a drink.”

“Paul’s looking for you. Ar
e you meeting somebody?”

“Why? He has someone with him?”

She nodded, trying again to swat the immovable Sugar. “Come back soon.”

“I’ll be with you all night,” he promised and
dodging Sugar one last time, stole a kiss before the crowd swallowed him up.

“You are getting on my nerves,”
Fiona told her girl, and was ignored as her lip gloss was retouched.

******

“Check this out,” Sugar said to Netty in the kitchen, where yet another of Andrea’s girls was presiding over the staff and guarding Fiona’s Veuve bottles.

“What happened?” Netty asked. She was already three-quarters of the way drunk. Her only job tonight was to dress Fiona, protect her from the grabbers who would hem her in and suck up vast amounts of t
ime with boring bull shit, and celebrate. She’d done all three for hours and had told Fiona not to get into too much trouble while she took a break.

“I’m standing by the patio talki
ng to one-a the security guards and I hear this white girl tell him, ‘I’m her new makeup artist.’ She spins him this little yarn about how she’s late and can he please sneak her in so she can set up and keep her job, and this and that, and I’m like, Marvin. This lash-battin’ bitch is lyin.’ She looked at me. Her blue eyes got beady, and I was like, yeah. I’m Sugar, her makeup artist? Good night!”