After Hours (29 page)

K
arla glanced at the telephone display when a call came through on her private line. Smiling, she picked up the receiver. “Good morning, darling.”

“Good morning to you, too. I forgot to tell you that we have a meeting tonight.”

“I don't want to go, Ronald.”

There came a pause. “This is the second time you've canceled on me, Karla. What's up?'

“Nothing's up. I just don't feel like going anymore.”

Karla didn't know when it'd happened, but she'd tired of the swinging scene, tired of having to decide who she was going to sleep with. Once she and Ronald returned home, she compared him to the man with whom she'd had sex. And that's all it was—sex. Swinging had become even less stimulating now that she'd resurrected Chocolate Ice. Whenever she performed, she felt empowered, in control.

“Why didn't you say something before I renewed our membership?” Ronald asked. He hadn't bothered to disguise his annoyance.

Karla picked up a pen and began doodling on a pad. “I don't know. It's only recently that I've begun to feel differently about sleeping with other men.”

“Don't tell me you got a dose of morality all of a sudden.”

“It has nothing to do with morality, Ronald. Why can't it be that I enjoying sleeping with my husband?”

“As I enjoy sleeping with you, Karla. But that doesn't mean I don't want to sample something else every once in a while.”

“Don't let me stop you, Ronald, if that's what you want to do.”

“Are you giving me permission to cheat?”

“It wouldn't be cheating. After all, we do have an open marriage.”

There came a pause. “You're right, Karla. We'll stay home tonight and I'll think of something fun to do.”

Her expression brightened. “Okay.” Whenever Ronald came up with idea for a fun thing, it always meant a new game or sex toy. “I'll see you tonight.”

 

Karla stared at the object cradled between layers of tissue paper. Her gaze came up and fused with Ronald's. “What do I need with that when I have you?”

“It's not for you,” he said mysteriously.

“Who's it for?”

Dimples winked in his cheeks when he winked at her. “It's for me.”

Her eyelids fluttered. “You want me to strap on a dildo and
do
you?”

Crawling onto the bed, Ronald lay down next to his wife. Although his mouth was smiling, his eyes were serious—very serious. “Yes.”

Reaching out, Karla ran her fingers over the length of rubber that looked amazingly like an actual penis. It was large but not as large Ronald's impressive member.

A slow smile parted her lips. “You know that you're a freak, Ronald King.”

He nodded. “Yes.”

She picked up the contraption attached to an adjustable belt and fastened it around her waist. “Look at me,” she teased. “I have a dick.”

Ronald scooped her off the bed. “Let's try in the shower just in case I have an accident.”

Wrapping her arms around his neck, Karla kissed his cheek. “Are you a virgin, Ronald?”

He frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“Am I the first woman to sample your bum hole?”

Ronald nodded. “Yes, you are.”

If Karla had asked him if she was the first to have anal intercourse with him, he would've said no. However, she would be the first woman.

“C
an I refresh your drink?” Lance asked Ronald King.

Ronald waved his hand. “No. I'm good here.”

Cory Cumberland held up a hand. “I've already passed my limit,” he said before his host could ask him whether he wanted another beer. He crossed his sock-covered feet resting on a suede ottoman. “I've got to give it to you, LL. You're really doing the damn thing.”

Ronald lifted his glass of brandy. “Ditto. You have a nice apartment, a beautiful fiancée who can cook and a thriving, very profitable business.”

Lance smiled. “Life has been good,” he said modestly.

“Shit,” Ronald drawled. “You're doing more than all right. Karla said that Dina told her that the two of you will move to Upper Saddle Brook later on in the year. Every time they get together they go on and on about buying a funny-sounding table or chair. What the hell is the difference between a Chippendale and one of those kinky-ass French kings?”

Chuckling softly, Lance shook his head. “I told Dina what goes on inside the house is her domain and what goes on outside is mine. That translates into I bring home the bacon, and how she prepares it is her business as long as I can recognize it as bacon.”

Ronald took another sip of his after-dinner liqueur. Lancelot Haynes and his fiancée had invited the Kings and the Cumberlands to Sunday dinner. What surprised him was that Dina Gordon's cooking skills were exceptional.

He'd thought her nothing more than eye candy who'd managed to pimp an older man into taking care of her. But when he saw Lance and Dina interact he saw genuine affection between them.

Cory, his gaze fixed on the muted television screen, nodded. “Money—it can make a marriage or break it.” He'd stopped gambling, but he still refused to accept Sybil's offer to give him what he needed to start up his own company.

“That's not going to be a problem with Dina and myself,” Lance said confidently. “All she has to do is call me Big Daddy and my wallet opens automatically.”

“Damn, LL,” Ronald said. “You don't have to let everyone know you've been pussy-whipped.”

Cory shifted his gaze, glaring at Ronald. “Mind your neck, King. It could be the man likes being pussy-whipped.”

“Yeah, King, mind your neck,” Lance intoned.

Ronald's silky black eyebrows lifted. “Oh, I take that to mean her shit is
that
good?”

Lance felt a wave of heat creep up the back of his neck. In the past he'd never been hesitant to engage in sex talk with his male buddies, yet it was different now. Dina was different. She was the woman he would marry in another two months, and hopefully become the mother of his children.

“I'm not one to kiss and tell, but I have no complaints.”

“How about the lady?” Ronald asked. “Does she have any complaints?” He'd found Dina intriguing because he wanted nothing more than to sleep with her. He knew Karla would never agree to the arrangement, but that hadn't stopped him from fantasizing about her.

Lance didn't like the direction the conversation had taken. “Perhaps I should ask Karla if she has any complaints.”

“I can speak for my wife and say unequivocally no.”

“Then the answer would be the same for Dina.”

Cory, cognizant of the rising tension between his friend and their host, came to his feet. “Lance, I think I'll take that brandy now.” He handed Lance the beer bottle. Waiting until he was alone with Ronald, he rounded on him. “What's wrong with you, insulting the man in his own home?”

“I just asked him about his woman.”

“No, you didn't. You wanted to know how she was in bed.”

Ronald drained his glass, set it on a table in the library, then stood up. “You need a vacation, Cumberland. You're wound tighter than a guitar string. Karla and I plan to head up to our place near Bear Mountain for the Labor Day weekend. You and Sybil are welcome to join us.”

“I…I'll let you know.”

“Are you okay, man?”

Cory massaged his forehead with his fingers. “I will be. I will be,” he repeated.

Lance returned to the library with two tumblers filled with the golden amber liquid, handing one to Cory. He touched glasses. “Cheers.”

Cory stared at Lance for several seconds before putting the glass to his mouth. “Cheers,” he whispered, taking a deep swallow. The heat spreading throughout his chest seemed to fill him with courage. “LL, whenever you have some time, I'd like to talk to you about something that's business-related.”

Lance smiled. “You have my card. Call me early tomorrow morning.”

“How early?”

“Better yet, why don't I call you? Perhaps we can meet for lunch or dinner.”

Cory felt as if a stone had been lifted off his chest. “I'd like that. Thanks, LL.”

“Excuse me, Big—LL?”

The three men turned at the sound of the dulcet feminine voice. Dina Gordon stood in the doorway to the library. She was the epitome of sophistication in a pair of tailored white slacks, a black silk blouse, strappy sandals and her hair pinned on the nape of her neck in an elaborate chignon.

Lance smiled. “Yes, baby girl?”

“May I see you for a moment?”

He nodded to Ronald, then Cory. “Please excuse me.”

They watched as he walked over to Dina and placed a protective arm around her waist as he leaned down to hear what she had to tell him.

Yes, both mused, Lance Haynes was really doing the damn thing.

D
ina knew she was taking a risk when she'd accepted the offer, but it was one she
had
to take. A man who'd seen her perform had slipped her a hundred dollars and his business card with a notation that he would pay her fifteen hundred dollars for a private performance. She never would've considered it if she'd had the twenty thousand Payne had demanded.

She'd sat on her bed and counted every single dollar she'd saved from her tips working at SJC Catering and her tenure as Sparkle. It added up to eighteen thousand seven hundred fifty-three dollars. Even if she closed out her savings account, she still wouldn't have all the money.

The date on the calendar screamed silently at her. It was August thirty-first. Labor Day was four days away. Timing couldn't be better, because Lance had gone to India for two weeks on business, Sybil had closed the catering hall to give the employees time off to spend the week and the holiday with their families and Karla and Ronald had invited the Cumberlands up to the New York mountain hideaway.

Reaching for her cell phone, she dialed a number, listening for a break in the connection. “This is Sparkle,” she said softly when hearing a man answer. “I will meet you at the hotel tomorrow. No money, no Sparkle.” Without waiting for a response, she ended the call.

Her client had suggested she come to his house, but she'd flipped the script, saying that she would make the arrangements. She planned to arrive at the hotel an hour before she was scheduled to perform, get into costume and makeup, then wait for someone to contact her as to payment. Then and only then would she fulfill her end of the agreement.

 

Sparkle sat on the edge of the bed, tapping her feet. She sprang to her feet when she heard a knock on the door. “Who is it?”

“It's the front desk, Ms. Gordon. I have a package for you.”

A bathrobe concealed her skimpy costume and a pair of oversize dark glasses the garish eye makeup as she made her way to the door. She opened it to find a young man dressed in hotel livery holding an envelope with her name and room number on it. She handed the man a tip while at the same time reaching for the envelope.

Dina closed the door and tore open the envelope, counting the money. It was all there. She hadn't realized her hands were trembling until she attempted to return the bills to the envelope.

She'd done it!

She'd saved enough money to pay off Payne Jefferson.

 

At exactly eight o'clock she walked out of her room, knocked on the door several doors down the hall and came face-to-face with the man with a sallow complexion who'd given her his business card. She hadn't remembered what he looked like because she never paid much attention to the men who came to Sybil's private parties.

“You look different, Sparkle,” he said with a pronounced lisp.

Sparkle stared at him from behind her mask. “So do you.”

“How?”

A slight smile parted her rouged lips. “You're more handsome than I remembered.”

He gave her a silly grin. “I like you, Sparkle.”

“And I like you, too, Mr. Wells. Did you bring the music?”

He nodded, pointing to a boom box in the corner. “It's over there.”

Sparkle patted his cheek. “Let the music begin.”

His dark eyes were fixed on her chest. “Can you wait a few minutes?”

Sparkle lifted a bare shoulder. “It's your dime, Mr. Wells. I can give you thirty minutes, and right now you're on the clock.”

The door to the bathroom opened and two young girls with profusions of braided extensions fell over each other to get out. They couldn't have been more than fifteen or sixteen.

“What the hell is going on here?” Dina shouted.

“Wait, wait!” Mr. Wells sputtered, waving his hands. “These are my daughters. They told me they want to be dancers, so I told them I hired you so they can see your work.”

Dina stared at the girls, then their supposed father. “I'm sorry, I don't entertain minors.”

“But Daddy,” wailed the feminine version of her father.

Mr. Wells looked as if he were going to cry. “Why didn't you tell me that?”

“Why didn't you tell me about your daughters?” Dina countered. “Good night, Mr. Wells. Contact me again when they're over eighteen—no, make that twenty-one. Don't worry about your money. I'll return it to you, less expenses.”

“What expenses?”

“The cost of the room and the driver to bring me here and back. I'll send you a money order in a couple of weeks. She gave him a long, lingering look. “I'm sorry this didn't work out.”

She walked away from the eccentric family and into her own suite. Slowly, methodically, she took off the mask, shoes, bodysuit and tights. Dina took off the eye makeup, staring at her reflection in the mirror. Emotion nearly overwhelmed her when she realized Sparkle had just made her last appearance.