I ponder the possibility of fucking Rugged when Linda’s gone, because I’m pretty sure he won’t reject that idea. A quick fuck, or a blowjob—guys don’t say no to an offer like that, even if the woman is a stranger. Why would Rugged?
And that’s exactly the problem. Because Rugged is a star, women probably line up to do that for him now, whereas before they’d have smacked him for daring to be so crude.
I don’t want to be as pathetic as one of his crazed female fans.
He might have me thinking about sex, but I’ll get myself off like I normally do. Or I’ll find someone else to fuck.
I hear Linda say something about Rugged having his manager call her, that they can go over some preliminary details.
“How does that sound, Lishelle?” she asks me.
“Sounds like a plan,” I say, though I haven’t been paying close attention to their chat. I’ve been lost in my thoughts about Rugged.
“All right, then.” Linda shakes Rugged’s hand once more. “We’ll be in touch. I’m really looking forward to this.”
“Me, too,” Rugged concurs.
When Linda disappears, Rugged gets up and closes the door, then turns his hot gaze onto me. One side of his mouth lifts in a grin. “Now, where were we?”
“Finished,” I tell him, and smile sweetly when he looks a bit surprised.
“But I thought—”
“Thought you were gonna get some? You want to impress a grown woman, you have to step to her in a different way.”
“Ah, you’re gonna play hard to get.”
“I’m not playing anything.” I pause, let my rejection sink in. No, I’ve made up my mind. I’m not going to act like one of his groupies. “I hope this isn’t going to affect your willingness to see this fund-raising effort through to its fruition.”
“’Course not,” Rugged tells me, but his voice is clipped.
Oh, he’s not a happy man. Inwardly, I beam. Honestly, did he expect me to drop to my knees just because he’s a star?
“Great,” I tell him, and place my hand on his arm. He throws a quick glance at my hand, then meets my eyes—as though he’s hopeful that my touching him means I’ve changed my mind.
I lead him to the door and waste no time in opening it. “Thank you so much for coming in to meet with me and the station manager,” I tell him, all professional. “Now if you don’t mind, I’ve got work to do.”
Claudia
“M
mm, baby.” I writhe against the hot tongue licking my pussy. “Oh…that feels so good. Yes. Right there.” My body grows warm all over, starts to tingle.
“Right there!”
My eyes fly open, and I see darkness. My hand is in my panties between my legs, two fingers resting on my wet, engorged clitoris. For a moment I’m confused.
And then I realize I was dreaming.
I groan, disappointed to have been pulled from my dream at the best moment. Groan because I’m disappointed my dream wasn’t reality, that there isn’t a gorgeous man between my thighs ready to make me come.
I close my eyes, stroke my wet pussy and hope to recapture the sensations I was experiencing in the dream. I try to imagine Taye Diggs going down on me, then Shemar Moore, then a few other hot actors I like. But I can’t hold a single image long enough, like my subconscious won’t let me enjoy my carnal urge to get off.
After nearly a minute, I give up. My body is still aroused, but I can’t get my mind to that place where I can reach orgasm.
I want a man, not my fingers. A man stroking my clit. A man’s teeth grazing it. A tongue so far inside my pussy it’s driving me crazy.
I might not miss Adam, but I do miss the sex. And with Adam the sex was frequent, and passionate.
My body craves that—with a real lover.
Rolling onto my side, I glance at the digital clock on my night table. It’s 6:18 in the morning.
Once again I close my eyes, this time trying to sleep. But after five minutes of tossing and turning, I know that I can’t.
I’m still aroused.
I need to fuck.
Slowly, I rise and turn on the bedside lamp. I open the drawer on my night table and reach down to the bottom, beneath various papers, until I feel my vibrator. I pull it out, and go back into the drawer for the DVD I want to watch.
When Adam and I were together, we watched lots of porn—at his suggestion. Most of it was simply raunch, one guy after the next getting sloppy blow jobs and spraying semen all over some woman’s face. Those didn’t appeal to me, and I suggested to Adam that he find something a bit more appealing to couples.
That’s what this DVD is—a movie of various sexual scenes, all featuring couples.
I like this one because the women get just as much attention to their needs as the men do. Guys eat pussy—and lots of it. They suck on tits like they want to make a woman come that way.
I turn on the television, making sure the volume is low, then insert the DVD into the machine. As I make my way back to the bed, my clit starts to pulse, anticipating what it’s going to experience.
Using the remote, I fast forward until I find a scene that will get me off. It’s an up-close view of a vagina and the man’s mouth that is all over it. The angle allows me to see every explicit detail.
I push my nightshirt up and my panties down, slip two fingers between my folds and settle them on my clit. But I don’t start stroking myself—not yet. I want to enjoy the graphic visual, the way a woman enjoys the build up of foreplay.
So with my free hand I begin playing with a nipple, pulling it and tweaking it until it is fully aroused. Waves of carnal pleasure sweep through me. My eyes are glued to the television, taking in every delicious moment of that hungry mouth devouring pussy.
And when the man pulls the woman’s folds apart, completely exposing her clitoris, I start to stroke my pussy in earnest. The man flicks the tip of his tongue over her again and again, until the woman starts to cry out. As she does, the man completely draws her nub into his mouth and sucks on it.
My heart rate picks up speed—and so do my fingers. I rub them over my clit in a circular motion, creating delicious heat. Now I am the woman onscreen. Her pleasure is my pleasure.
My lover pulls my clit deep into his mouth and suckles on my clit. The sounds of pleasure he makes excites my entire body. I’m breathless as he stops sucking on my clit and runs his tongue along my opening. The next instant, he slips two fingers inside, pulls them out and licks them, then moans happily and plunges his tongue into my vagina.
Fuck, that’s so hot.
As the man’s tongue goes deep into the woman’s pussy, I insert two fingers into my own.
It’s wet, and warm. I stretch my fingers inside, but it doesn’t reach where I need to be touched. On the screen, the woman is screaming with the onset of her release. The man is fingering her now while sucking on her clit. After a moment, the man moves his body upward and starts to deep throat the woman—not what I want to see.
With one hand I grip the remote and rewind the scene, while with the other I grab the vibrator. It’s shaped like a massive black cock, and for now, it is my lover.
“Eat that pussy,” I say softly as I ease the cock inside of me. I don’t turn it on. Not yet. For now, I enjoy every sensation this life-like cock brings me.
My pussy throbs out of control as I watch the way the man suckles on the exposed clitoris. Fuck, that guy knows how to go down on a woman.
“Eat that pussy…” I plunge the cock inside me, gasp as I wiggle it around. My God, that feels amazing. With my free hand, I play with my pussy, massage my nub until I have to bite down on my bottom lip to suppress my moans.
I continue to thrust the cock in and out, in and out. It’s large, and fills me completely.
“Yes, baby…” I murmur, stroking my engorged nub. “Fuck, yeah…”
The woman on the television screen screams when she starts to orgasm, and I watch. Watch the guy draw the clitoris fully into his mouth as she writhes in ecstasy. Watch him thrust his fingers in and out of her pussy as he continues to eat her.
And then my body jerks, a sudden orgasm gripping me with its sharp talons. The walls of my vagina close around the cock, pulsate against it as my body explodes.
For the next minute or so, I simply lie there, my body spent from my release. The sound of my heavy breathing mixes with the faint sound of fucking emanating from the TV. I reach for the remote and turn the movie off.
Then I pull out the vibrator, head off the bed and go to my bathroom to clean up.
When I’m back under my covers, I snuggle against my pillow and try to summon some of the warmth I felt during my orgasm.
I can’t.
Later that morning, after I eat breakfast alone in my kitchen, I decide that I must get out of the house. First, I call Annelise, but she doesn’t answer, so I call another friend, Risha. We’re not extremely close, but occasionally go to the spa or hair salon together where we can spend a few hours gossiping.
Risha is home, and we make plans to meet an hour later at the spa we frequent downtown. I tell her I’ll call the spa to schedule pedicures, and that she’ll hear from me only if we can’t get an appointment.
An hour later, Risha is heading to the building’s steps as I park in an available spot on the street. I toot the horn, and she glances over her shoulder. When she sees me, she smiles and waves.
I finish parking and get out of the car. Risha rushes toward me, her arms outspread.
We hug, air kiss.
“Wow, Claudia. You look amazing.”
“I do?”
“Yes. Really amazing. Your hair—you put auburn highlights?”
“Subtle highlights. I was tired of the jet black.”
“Well, seeing how happy you look, no one would know you so recently broke up with the love of your life.”
It’s exactly that kind of comment that irks me where Risha’s concerned, and one of the reasons I’ll never consider her a close friend. She simply doesn’t get me.
I don’t worry about it, because she fulfills a purpose in my life. I never have to go to the spa, or shopping for designer clothes, alone.
Risha opens the spa’s heavy door, then gestures for me to enter. “After you.”
I walk in. The hostess at the front greets me with a warm smile. “Hello, Ms. Fisher, Ms. Taylor.”
“Hello,” Risha and I say in unison.
“You can come right this way.”
The long-haired brunette leads us around the corner and to the back of the salon, where the pedicure tables are set up. I recognize Alice and Bree, the women who will give us our pedicures, as they’ve worked on us before.
Alice, who’s working with me today, instructs me to take my sandals off and slip my feet into the warm, bubbling water. I do, and beside me, Risha does the same.
“How’s Ryan?” I ask Risha.
“He’s great,” Risha answers. “Passed the Bar, and he’s interviewing with a few firms in Atlanta. Also some in New York.”
“So he might be moving?”
“
We
might be moving.”
“He popped the question?” I ask excitedly, my eyes already searching for the rock on her left hand I must have somehow missed.
“No, not yet. But once he accepts a position with a firm, I’m sure he will.”
“Right.” I nod, hoping for Risha’s sake that Ryan is planning exactly that. That he doesn’t turn out to be another Adam.
I glance at Alice, an attractive and plump woman in her mid-forties, who is scrubbing my feet. She grins at me like buffing people’s feet is what she’s happiest doing. I don’t believe it is, though. I mean, it can’t be. I wonder if she’s aspired to greater things in her life, and why she settled on this career path.
The sound of voices has me turning to my left to see who is about to join us in this portion of the salon.
And that’s when my stomach takes a nosedive.
Hell, no! What’s that bitch doing here?
“Who?”
Risha’s question lets me know I voiced my thought out loud.
“Ah, Arlene…” Risha nods in Arlene Nash’s direction, who happens to be the woman who immediately got involved with Adam when our relationship ended—if not before.
Arlene sees me. Flashes me a smug look as she wriggles her fingers in the pretense of a warm greeting.
Risha huffs. “What is her problem?”
“Hell if I know.”
To my horror, the hostess leads Arlene to the far back of the shop where Risha and I are.
“Oh, God,” I mumble.
Moaning in frustration, I look to my right as Arlene is seated in the leather pedicure chair on my left.
Risha’s lips twist in disapproval.
“Hello, ladies.”
Arlene’s nasally voice has always irritated me, that and the way she walks around with her head held higher than everyone else’s, like she’s extra special.
“Hello,” Risha responds, in an exaggerated airy tone—the tone of fake affection she reserves for people she doesn’t like.
For a moment I debate simply ignoring the bitch. I mean, why pretend we’re friends when we’re not? But after a couple seconds, I paste a sugary smile on my face and turn to her—the only greeting I can find it in my soul to give her. Arlene and I were never friends, but after I saw her at my fiancé’s place in a serious lip lock with him only days after we’d broken up, I knew I could never keep up the pretense of being civil to her.
That decision was solidified when Arlene starting flaunting the rock Adam gave her shortly after our own engagement ended.
A minute passes. I pretend to be completely absorbed in the issue of
Black Hair
magazine I scooped up before I sat down.
“Have you heard from Adam?”
My head turns to my left so fast, it’s a surprise I don’t get whiplash. “Excuse me?”
“I hear he’s spending time in D.C.,” Arlene tells me in a tone that says she’s proud to be sharing information I likely don’t know. “He’s apparently exploring work opportunities. I figure he’ll make a permanent move there, given his political ambitions. Especially since he’s got family there he can stay with.”
“His cousin, Milton. Senate aid. Yes, I know. Adam and I were together for four
years,
remember?” My tone is testy, but I can’t stop myself.
“Of course.” Arlene plasters a fake smile on her face. “Look, I figured you’d want to know what he’s been up to.”
“Really? And why is that?”
The water sloshes around Arlene’s feet as she shifts her butt in her chair to fully face me. “Because we share a common bond—whether you want to accept that or not.”
This enrages me. Arlene’s gall at acting as if she and I have both suffered equally at Adam’s hands.
As Alice begins to buff my feet, I say to Arlene, “We have nothing in common.”
“He hurt both of us.”
“And you seem like you still want to him back, even though the whole world knows he’s a perverted freak. What Adam does with his life doesn’t interest me in the least. He could be starring in gay porn in D.C. for all I care.”
Arlene’s jaw flinches at my words, and I know I’ve hit the nail head-on. Tsking, she shakes her head. “So bitter.” She pauses. “Bitter enough to spew nasty lies?”
I slam the magazine down on my lap. “Tell me, Arlene—how long were you fucking my fiancé before we broke up?”