Sweeter Than Honey (7 page)

“I can suck you real good, fuck you until your dick falls off—”

He interrupted me, “Or?” staring at my ass.

“Or what?” I questioned with a frown, ready to have the madam escort his arrogant ass out of my room before I fucked him unconscious. Valentino was so fine he made my pussy drip every time he licked his lips like that L.L. hadn’t-dropped-a-hit-in-a-minute Cool J, but who gave a fuck because he was still a sexy-as-hell rapper.

“You could let me fuck you in the ass.”

“Anal sex is against the rules and out of the question. You can get that from your girls.”

Pulling out a stack of hundreds, Valentino placed ten grand in my hands like it was my usual rate. He looked at me. I stared at him, then said, “Get the hell out,” throwing the money in his face.

“Straight? You serious?” he asked, drawing his eyebrows together, his forehead buckling.

Standing over him, I replied, “Dead serious. I’m not compromising my livelihood for you or anyone else.”

“Lace, I like your style. I guess it’s true what I’ve heard about your no-nonsense reputation. You’re exactly the type of madam I’m looking for.”

Tightening my lips to conceal my interest, I thought,
Me? Madam?
Opening the door, I demanded, “Get the fuck out and stop playing games.”

“Naw, straight. Come work for me and you’ll never have to fuck another john. Here’s my number. Keep the ten g’s as a welcome bonus. I want you to start tomorrow night. Nine sharp. Not nine-oh-one.” Tossing the money on my bed, Valentino walked out and I was right behind him.

“Lace, you ready for this dick? I have to get knee deep inside you, baby. My dick is so swollen he’s getting a migraine. Let Daddy hit his pussy from the back.”

“No way, not the back.”

Benito went buck wild, slapping my ass like he was starring in a rodeo. Lying on the faux fur, I spread my legs wide, then pulled Benito’s ass close to my pussy. Beads of sweat swished in his hairs slurping against my flesh. Benito wasn’t my most creative lover, but what I really liked was how our chemistry sizzled, making him by far my best man. I guess I should thank Valentino.

Once Valentino discovered I was a huge fan of Benito Bannister, he surprised me with a blind date. I didn’t know how to act! I mean, I’d never imagined sitting across the table from my brightest star let alone having him fall in love with me.

Benito’s ass relaxed as he slowly stroked himself.

Pulling him closer, I yelled, “Stop playing, man, and give me this dick!”

Pressing his chest against my breasts, Benito got serious. “I looovvve you, Lace. Don’t ever doubt my love for you.”

The sparkle in my eyes shot toward his. After Benito’s last game he reassured me he wanted to stop running women and settle down. I thought the real deal was he’d spent the majority of his money on maintaining a player’s lifestyle and he was looking to freeload off me. When we first met, Benito owned a big house, fancy cars, and dated lots of women, but I wasn’t sure how much money he had. I was still unsure how broke was broke, but he claimed he had his house up for sale and the cars in his garage were bought by one of his former teammates but he didn’t sleep around anymore. I was his one and only woman.

B’s dick slammed into my pussy so hard the penetration hurt, but that shit felt so good I wanted to cum so bad and he sensed it. Every time my body tensed, B quickly pulled back instead of thrusting like I wanted him to.

“Fuck you, B. Just fuck me deeper!” I yelled, ready to cum all over his dick. My mouth gaped open. I tried to inhale and gulped the air.

Careful not to let his fingernails touch me, B covered my lips and said, “Not yet, Lace. Relax. I know what you want. But I also know what you need. Trust me. Give me a few more minutes of pleasure before Daddy busts this big-ass nut inside you, baby.”

Heat consumed my entire body as I tried to focus my energy outward. But I didn’t want to lose my momentum. Plus, I had to get ready for work. Shit, I was at the edge of cuming and determined to have a vaginal orgasm instead of a clitoral one. Those clitoral orgasms zapped my energy. But the vaginal orgasm I eagerly awaited to release would boost my energy level so high I’d cum hours after Benito was done.

B swung his thick dick side to side, sticking to the bottom of my pussy with his head a few seconds each time. Instinctively when that next stroke hit, aw, shit! my legs clamped around B’s waist, pulling him in closer. Arching my back this time, I pressed my breasts into his chest, burying my face against his sweaty neck and shoulders.

“Ow! Yes! B! Yes! Damn it, baby, I’m coming!” My legs trembled. My juices flowed in waves onto his thick muscular dick for a good sixty seconds. “Deeper, B. Cum with me, baby,” I whispered, then screamed louder than before when a second orgasm hit harder than the first. I rotated my hips on his dick until I couldn’t cum anymore.

B smiled, arching his back. “Whew, your ass is so good. I love you. But you know you cheated, Lace. You came too soon.”

“You’d better quit fucking with me.”

“Not this shit again, Lace,” Benito said, grabbing my waist. “I’m not finished pleasing you. Come back here, woman.”

“Fucking around with you, I’ma have to rush like hell.”

“Tell Valentino I was puttin’ it down. You can be late one time. For me. Can’t cha?”

“No, I can’t.” I never wanted to find out what Valentino meant when he’d said, “Not nine-oh-one.”

Sympathizing with B’s desire to continue pleasing me, I said, “Aw, baby. Mama’ll make it up to you when she gets back. Promise.”

“But you won’t be back for six hours. What am I supposed to do?”

Jack off! I don’t care!
“Get a job so you’re not sitting around the house all day and night. Besides, you know what’s going down this weekend. I may be three hours late.”

“Three hours late!”

“Just like you, I was accustomed to a certain lifestyle before we met and I still am. Business before pleasure. Besides, somebody’s gotta pay the bills,” I said, tiptoeing to my bathroom. Closing the door, and then pressing the lock, I turned on the shower and waited for the steam to emerge. Before stepping inside the fog, I glanced over at my large white porcelain tub, wishing I had time to soak in some hot bubbly water.

Unexpectedly my thoughts shifted. I whispered, “What makes women cold-hearted toward men?”

Lathering my white exfoliating gloves, I wondered what could make a man so angry that he’d walk into a woman’s job, a woman he once made love to, and hate her so much that he’d douse her with gasoline, strike a match, set her ablaze, then walk away like nothing happened. I was so pissed when I read that article on abuse in
Essence
magazine. Those women in Prince George’s County living in big ol’ beautiful mansions driving expensive cars had the same problems as me, a little girl who’d grown up way too fast in Flagstaff, Arizona.

One thing Sunny had taught me was that the stronger women had to protect weaker women from abusive men.

“Fuck!” A needlelike jolt darted through my breast. “What the hell was that?”

“You okay in there?” Benito asked, jiggling the doorknob.

“I’m fine. Too much hot water,” I lied, stepping out of the shower, massaging my back.

I was glad I had B. The way he swaggered when he walked. Dragged certain words when he spoke like, “I love you, Lace.” How he laughed deeply from his stomach each time I said something funny. And the way B grabbed my booty when I shook it in his face. No man’s stroke of my silky hair was softer. I adored how Benito’s muscles bulged when he voluntarily took out the trash. How his thigh muscles hardened when he picked me up. I liked the simple things about our relationship maybe because I’d never had a real relationship.

Rinsing my body, I lathered again, careful not to scrub too hard.

Benito was a charming motherfucka. Most athletes were. But eventually the charm wears off, the lies unfold, and a woman has to either be honest with herself or her whole life becomes one big lie. But I wasn’t waiting in vain. Benito wasn’t like that. He was honest with me all the time. B wasn’t perfect but he was my perfect man.

Tearing a piece of floss, I glided the string between my teeth. Once I stopped wasting my time waiting for Benito to fuck up, our relationship grew stronger. The less I cared, the more he loved me.

Stepping out of the bathroom, I wrapped my body in an oversized towel, thankful I now lived a life better than most of the men I’d serviced. Watching Benito sprawled across my bed was divine. For once, a real man was in my bed. It was hard not to love B. But that was how dumb shit happened. Whenever I forgot, believing everything was right, shit happened. Usually to me.

I watched Benito with his thighs spread stroking his dick. Why did he do that shit every time he knew I had to go to work? His broke ass needed to earn his keep.

I smiled, then said, “I love you, B.”

All six feet four inches, two hundred and twenty pounds with muscular quarterback thighs. Full succulent chocolate lips. Nice teeth that were slightly uneven but perfect to me. Although his NFL career was over, Benito still hadn’t decided what he wanted to do. Open a nightclub or utilize his communication’s degree and become a sports commentator.

Over the past twelve months, I watched Benito’s sexy waistline grow from a solid thirty-two inches to a softer thirty-six. But he was still the most handsome sight I’d seen. His attentiveness and confidence held me by his side. The strangest thing about our communication or lack thereof was neither of us ever discussed our family.

“You know what your problem is.” Benito paused, then said, “You work too damn much, Lace.”

“Hardly enough,” I replied, fastening my red garter strap to my sheer stockings, then glanced at the crystal chime clock Benito had given me on our second date. Five minutes.

“When are you going to slow down and give our relationship a real chance? You’re not getting any younger, you know, and I want a son. I want us to start a family.”

“Get real. What you really want isn’t a son. You want a reason for me to gain weight, quit my job, and become your precious trophy wife. And that’s what’s not going to happen. I’m not ruining my perfect figure for you to marry, then divorce me like you did your ex-wife after she got fat from having the daughter you never take care of or talk to. You know how I feel about you. You’re a deadbeat dad. But you’re all that matters to me.” At that precise moment B was honestly all that mattered. “Not a piece of paper or the promise of this expensive engagement ring on my finger and certainly not a baby,” I said, wiggling into my red lace skirt.

“Yeah, whatever. All I have to do is finalize my marketing plan for my sports apparel business. You see, a black man—”

Lifting my eyebrows, I cut B off. “Not now, B. I don’t want to hear another one of your soliloquies about the black man’s plight, fight, or flight, okay? So, now you’re starting a clothing line? Whatever, man.”

B walked toward me. “Lace, don’t. I don’t downplay your ideas. Don’t insult my manhood. I’m proud to have a woman like you by my side who’s got her shit together.” B crisscrossed his hands and said, “But after we get married, no more working at that whorehouse for Valentino. I don’t give a damn how much he pays you, I refuse to have my son grow up around prostitutes.”

Benito knew that bullshit only mattered because he was no longer in the spotlight. Newcomers had taken over the media and B was no longer an Immaculate Perception client.

I rebutted, “Married? Who said anything about getting married? We’re engaged.”

I know my thought process was unrealistic but I liked the idea of being engaged but dreaded the thought of a permanent commitment. What if B changed on me? I’d fucked many unhappily married men in my days, and if their wives knew the things they told me—“I hate that bitch! She can’t fuck worth a shit! Fat slob done let herself go! I never loved her and wished I hadn’t married her lazy trifling ass! I should kill her for the insurance money and buy me a sexy woman like you.”—they would’ve packed up and moved out while their husbands’ dicks were deep inside my pussy.

Frowning, I glimpsed at the digital clock on my nightstand, stared at my watch as I fastened it around my wrist, then looked at B. “Did you change the clock? My watch has ten thirty and that clock,” I said, pointing, “has eight thirty.”

“Baby, I had to make a little extra time for us somehow. A few minutes won’t hurt.”

“A few what? You dumb fuck. I knew something didn’t feel right. I really can’t trust you.”

Benito lay across my bed. His lips tightened, then curled upward. “I need you, Lace. More than Valentino. Can’t you be okay with putting me first just once?”

“How many football games did you miss ’cause some groupie wanted to suck your dick? Huh?”

“You’re not missing work, Lace. You’re just a little late.”

“Fuck you, B!” The home phone rang, interrupting my thoughts of slapping the shit out of this ignorant just-don’t-get-it motherfucka. “If that’s Valentino, tell him I’m on my way. I swear, B, you’re a good-for-nothing sorry-ass bastard for that one,” I yelled before slamming the bedroom door. “If I get fired, your fuckin’ ass had best not be here when I get back!”

B yelled, “I love you, baby!”

P
icking at my natural nails glued underneath the acrylic, Lace was the only person who could’ve changed my mind. But she was too late. For the first time since I’d started working for Lace, I had to protect myself and my girlfriends from men like Valentino.

“Shit!” I dug from one side to the other, popping off the white tip that flipped into my hair. Separating the strands, I found the piece of plastic and held it in my hand. Sticking my thumb in my mouth, I began wedging my teeth between the remaining acrylic that was fused to my nail. “Ouch! Ouch!” I was suffering so much on the inside, I no longer cared about the self-inflicted pain I’d caused.

Neither Onyx, Starlet, nor I should’ve accepted this job. But we were young and adventurous, hot and sexy. Onyx had an insanely jealous high school sweetheart whom she’d married knowing that she shouldn’t have and he’d go ballistic if he had a clue he wasn’t the only man Onyx had fucked. Starlet’s fiancé, a professional surfer, who lived in Santa Barbara, California, would call off their wedding if he found out Starlet was a call girl, escort, hooker, prostitute, groupie, whatever someone would call either of us. They thought Onyx and Starlet worked at a casino serving drinks in a private high rollers’ suite and the thousand dollars in cash they brought home every night was from tips.

If my girlfriends wouldn’t quit for me, they’d quit because of me. I was putting a stop to Valentino’s scandalous secret prostitution ring that masked as an image consulting firm and limousine service. That coward didn’t have the decency to let us know the location of IP, claiming he didn’t want any of us showing up on his doorstep unannounced with a wild hair up our ass. He was the ignorant one. Lace confided in me that Valentino lived in this mansion, not at IP. His residence was right on the other side of the door I stared at. The same door that Lace exited into from our dressing room led to Valentino’s living quarters. But Lace refused to give me a physical address or phone number for either of Valentino’s properties, saying, “Sunny, some things in life we’re better off not knowing.” Pausing, Lace seemed so sad when she said, “Some people too.”

Scanning the clothes, the shoes, and the jewels one last time, I recalled the moment I saw this dressing room. Man, I freaked out with excitement believing I’d hit the jackpot without gambling. Once the thrill wore off, I realized the degradation wasn’t worth the money. Never again before leaving the mansion would they cover my eyes until arriving at that isolated place near train tracks where I occasionally heard the familiar horn blowing in the background. Valentino must’ve forgotten to add soundproof windows. When I left tonight, I’d be telling Sapphire Valentino’s last name, his address that I was determined to get, and I’d be sketching her an image of what he looked like.

Sapphire was right. Ridiculous amounts of money poured into Valentino’s pockets from clients I had to fuck. Each night while riding in the white stretch Hummer, the other girls gossiped about celebrity tricks’ dicks but not me. I remained quiet. Maybe that’s one reason Lace liked me.

Every trip I tried to learn something new. Transit time from the Strip to Valentino’s—rate of speed times time times distance—meant Valentino’s house had to be someplace within ten to twenty minutes of Las Vegas Boulevard. The Hummer’s license plate,
BITCHES
, wasn’t registered online in Nevada, Utah, Arizona, or California. The tag must’ve been blocked or something.

The pieces to Valentino’s real identity weren’t coming together fast enough. Waving at Onyx, I sat at my vanity and waited until everybody left. When the room became quiet, I recorded a quick video on my cellular.

“Whosoever finds this phone, my name is Sunny Day, I live at 555 Chestnut, number 201, in the city of…If I’m dead by the time you get this, go to the police and tell them Valentino James killed me. If I’m alive and Valentino is dead, thank me for killing that dirty bastard.”

I pressed my lips against the cold .22-caliber gun Sapphire gave me yesterday for my shooting lessons tomorrow. Teary eyed, I saved the video, then speed-dialed my parents, surprised my mother answered on the first ring.

“Mama, I wanna come home.”

“Honey, where are you? Your dad and I have been worried sick about you. You have to stop disappearing like this. We want you to come home too, baby.”

I heard my identical twin sister, Summer, ask, “Is that Sunny, Mama? Where is she? Let me talk to that girl.”

This time I was glad I was wrong. My family hadn’t given up on me. “Mama, I don’t know where I’m at.”

“What do you mean?”

Lowering my voice, I had to come clean and spare my God-fearing mother from embarrassment if her Bible-toting congregation discovered the truth first. I cried into the receiver, “I’ve been prostituting and—”

“You’ve been what! Yes, Lord Jesus! I must be losing my hearing!”

“Mama, please, this is not the time to yell at me. If I’m not home by midnight, call the police and report me missing. I bought a new condo. My address is 555…and I left a note in my bedroom on the nightstand and be sure to give them the license plate
BITCHES
. Valentino’s girls get picked up at bars on—”

All I heard on the opposite end of the phone was sobs before my mother yelled, “Danniiiieelll! Get in here! Now!”

“Mama, please don’t call Daddy to the phone,” I cried.

“Daniel, talk to your daughter. She’s hangin’ out with witches.”

Shaking my head, my mama couldn’t even bring herself to cuss.

“Baby girl, what’s going on?”

“I’m sorry, Daddy. I’m so sorry. I’ll be a good girl. Can I come home?”

“I’m on my way. Helen, get my car keys. Baby girl, where are you?”

I heard Summer adamantly say, “I’m going with you.”

“I don’t know, Daddy,” I answered. Without any warning, my call dropped. “Nooooo!” I screamed into the dead receiver. I jabbed my gun into the power button, but nothing happened. “Shit!” This time I used my thumb to power on my phone. Nothing.

Sniffling, I left my cell phone inside Onyx’s vanity drawer. Tucking the gun into the side pocket of my gold leather purse, I tiptoed to the forbidden exit door. Imitating Lace, I wrapped my fingers around the gold knob. Too late to turn back, I had to tell Valentino I was leaving and I wanted my money. All of it. Tonight. And not no measly two thousand dollars. I deserved more. A lot more.

I twisted the knob until it stopped, my eyes widening when I stepped into a spacious, never-ending hallway. Leaving the door ajar, removing my shoes, heel, toe, heel, toe, I crept along in my bare feet over the cold crystal-clear floor. Sharks swam beneath the glass crisscrossing under my footprints. My shoes dangled in one hand, my purse hung from my shoulder bouncing against my hip. Finally approaching a slightly opened door, I slowed my pace as I noticed, aw, shit! I was on three flat screens.

A man wearing pink socks, pink shoes, and nothing else sat in a large cinema-style chair viewing me on the monitors like he was at a theater. Without turning around he said, “Hello, Sunny. I’ve been expecting you.”

My heart thumped in my throat at the sound of a familiar voice vividly recalling the last john I’d serviced. “I said suck my dick. And lick my balls. I want it all. You’re not clever, bitch. I want you hotter than a summer day in July.” Guessing he’d seen my every move, I prayed he hadn’t heard my threats. I swallowed, then asked, “You’re Valentino?”

Facing me, he yelled, “Bitch! Don’t call my name!” When he stood, I saw that was definitely the dick I damn near swallowed last night. Thigh to thigh, his dick swayed with his every step from the caramel-colored chair to the black sectional sofa. Sitting, he leaned back on gold-plated fifty-cent pieces that were pressed into the leather like buttons, cradled his balls in his hand, and then spread his sagging nuts flat and wide. On contact with the cushion, Valentino’s balls shrank and wrinkled, crawling toward his stomach.

Valentino had grown unbelievably handsome. He could have any woman he wanted except my sister. Oh my goodness. Now that I knew the truth, how was I going to tell Summer that Anthony Valentino James, her baby’s daddy, was a pimp? My heart thumping, I questioned if I could carry out my mission to kill Valentino. Like it or not, he was family. But he was also a womanizing, low-down, dirty dog.

Focusing like Sapphire had taught me, I snapped a mental outline of the man I’d seen years ago. Dark eyes, thick eyebrows, long lashes, a well-trimmed thin mustache, a slender nose, mocha-colored lips, and a slim face. Six two, about one eighty, narrow shoulders, lustrous black wavy hair slicked to the back, and a dark, slightly raised mole beneath the outer left corner of his eye.

Sapphire once said, “I hate when a rape victim can’t describe her assailant or point him out in a lineup. That leaves him free to rape, attack, or kill other women.”

I jumped at Valentino’s angry tone when he said, “I knew one of you bitches would try me. But I must admit I didn’t think you were dumb enough to be the first motherfucka with balls bigger than mine, bitch.”

Was this really the same guy my sister had a baby for? Rubbing my eyelids, I stuttered, “I, I, sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb, you, Val, um, I—”

“Come. Sit,” he calmly said, patting the smooth leather cushion beside his naked thigh.

My body froze in the doorway of his study. Another crystal floor covered more baby sharks. What was Valentino’s fascination? I’d never seen anything like this in my life. My knees trembling, I knew I’d broken his rule, or rules. Fearing the rage oozing from Valentino’s squinted eyes, I stared at his clenched teeth. Veins popped along the sides of his neck, making my chest hurt.

What would he do to me? Verbally reprimand me. Burn me with that cigar in the ashtray? Beat me with the heel of what looked like a size-fourteen salmon on his feet? Rip my ponytail away from my scalp? Or would he step on me like a doormat?

Nonsense. All the bad things I’d heard must’ve been rumored. Valentino had never laid a hand on any of his girls. That was Lace’s job. And before today I’d never realized that in a way, he was family. I think. Maybe I was worried about nothing. But the tone of his voice was one all too familiar. Whatever Valentino had in mind, I wanted no part of it or him.

“Better yet, stand right there. Put on your shoes, then slowly remove your dress.”

“But I, I really don’t want to do this anymore. That’s what I came—”

Valentino interrupted with a stern look. “Bitch! I’m not asking you.”

Easing on my red stilettos, careful not to damage the diamonds, I lowered my spaghetti straps over my shoulders, then gently released my dress. Shimmering gold lace with red specks surrounded my ankles. I was virtually nude, the only items remaining my thong and high heels. Oh yeah, and my new Rolex watch.

Valentino eased from the sofa. Slowly approaching, he knelt before me. I shuttered as he inserted his fingers into my straps, then lowered my thong over my curvaceous hips, easing the elastic from between my ass.

“Turn around and bend over and spread this beautiful booty in my face.”

Doing as I was told, I felt his moist lips press against my clit.

“Sweet. Straight sweet. Bitch, right now I should be getting paid for someone to lick this pretty pink cotton candy pussy.”

Exhaling, I thought, if this was the worst of my punishment, I’d be okay. At least until Lace got here.

“Turn toward me,” Valentino said, spreading my lips kind of the way Madam had done during my orientation. His tongue grazed my clit, then traveled up my shaft, momentarily resting in the crevice right before he softly sucked me.

My body trembled with delight.

“Oh, you like the way my tongue feels on your pussy, huh?” he asked, inserting his middle finger inside me with a come-hither motion.

None of this would’ve happened if I worked at a legal brothel. Legitimate prostitutes were independent contractors—well, somewhat—working in legal counties over sixty miles outside Las Vegas. Their problem was most johns didn’t want to travel that far to get laid, which was how Valentino capitalized on us. In a way I envied the brothel-working ladies. Although I made more money, they got to set their own prices and work whenever they wanted.

Terrified, I nodded, too scared to open my mouth fearing I’d make him mad, or madder.

Contracted prostitutes never fucked in the ass. Their johns always wore condoms. Our johns seldom wore condoms and anal sex, while it did cost more, was available for the right price. The contractors got to do a thorough inspection of their johns’ genitals before sex and had the right to reject them if the dick and balls had any signs of herpes, discharge, or anything contagious. Not us. If our johns paid Valentino enough money, they could fuck us in the ear.

“Ouch!”

Valentino’s teeth clenched my clit tight and his soft hair slipped between my fingers when I tried to grip his hairy arms to stop him. If I took one step backward I’d be circumcised.

Releasing my pussy, Valentino stood, braced one arm behind my back, and the other underneath my knees. Carrying me to the sofa, he laid me down, stood over me, massaged his balls in my face, stroked his hard dick against my lips, then commanded, “Turn over on your stomach.”

“But—”

Smack! Snap! Slap! Snap! Smack! Snap!

“Bitch! Shut the fuck up! Turn over!”

Reluctantly I obeyed. Not knowing what to expect next, I buried my face into the fresh leather.

The warmth of Valentino’s strong body smothered me as his hot dick pressed between my thighs, quickly expanding. His head throbbed between my openings. Not knowing which hole he’d penetrate, I squeezed my cheeks as tight as I could, silently praying,
God, no. Please don’t let him hurt me
.

“You do know my rules, don’t you?” Valentino asked, pressing his dick harder into the spot between my pussy and my asshole.

Tears streamed down my chin and neck, making the leather slippery, reminding me of the scratches on my neck. “I remember you,” I whispered. The more my bruises burned, the more I cried, praying Anthony Valentino James wouldn’t ram his dick up my ass.