Hot Boyz (12 page)

Claude turned Venus over to lie on her back. He hovered over her and entered her slowly. Claude liked to get her into the “L” position where one leg was bent to the side and her other leg was pointed straight up. The angle of that position always seemed to hit the spot just enough to send Venus’s sounds of ecstasy into repeated revving resonance. Claude then knew it would be his turn to reach his climax.

But Venus was sure he noticed that the lubricating came far and few between lately. This particular night, it did not come at all. Maybe Claude was too into the moment to notice that Venus was totally dry. As he moved her leg back even farther, she caught a faint glimpse of something, or someone, lying on their leopard lounge chair to the left of their black granite poster bed. Venus closed her eyes and refocused, realizing the image was even clearer. Venus felt Claude’s pounding and repeated penetration hitting her very soul. She could hear him sigh, but all was a blur, all except the sultry, frozen image of her best friend, Fatima, watching them make love. Venus’s breathing pattern increased and she shut her
lids until it was over. Before she could even fake her usual orgasm, Claude released inside of her. She opened her eyes and the image was gone. Venus lay still while he turned over and collapsed.

Thirty minutes later, Venus moaned in her sleep, tossing her head back and forth, but Claude was too knocked out to notice. Venus jumped straight up in the bed and threw her eyes open as if in horror. Sweat beaded from her forehead. Her honey-colored hair was soaking wet. She placed her fisted hands deep into the mattress, almost in anger. Venus glanced over at Claude as he lay on his stomach. His face was toward hers as she watched him sleep. Venus closed her eyes and took a deep breath, feeling a jittering motion in her stomach. She started to gag and swallow at the same time. The swallowing reflex caused her to gag again, and she sprang to her feet, running into the bathroom where she stood over the ebony commode and threw up.

She fell to her knees, waiting for the next violent expulsion. But it never came. Venus sat on the gray tile floor with her back to the wall, wiping her mouth with tissue paper.

What did I do?
she asked herself.
Why in the hell did I agree to this?

The night before Mason was set to come home, he sat in his hotel room after losing the tournament in Florida. A young, unknown golfer won at twelve under par. Mason felt like he’d totally lost his focus. He was disappointed in himself.
Did he use the right club?
he wondered. Would that have made a difference on the seventh hole? He switched his attention from his golf bag to the minibar. He looked around for his room key. Next to his key was the hotel phone. He made a phone call instead.

“What are you wearing?” he asked.

“That’s so corny.”

“No, really, I want to know.”

“All right, I’m wearing a white baby doll.”

“Describe it,” Mason prompted, lifting his rear to make room for him to pull his gray boxers down to his knees.

“It’s a sheer, short, sexy number.”

Mason used his right hand to stroke his stiffened wand. “What are you wearing under it?”

“Nothing,” she whispered.

“Do you like the way you look in it?”

“Yes.”

“What do you think I would do if I saw you in it?”

“You would probably start kissing my hard, pink nipples through the sheer lace fabric.”

“And flick your nipple with my tongue.”

“Yes, and then you’d pull my arm through the sleeve so you could taste my breasts. First one sleeve and then the other.”

“And then?” Mason asked with his eyes closed.

“And then you’d stand me up to let my nightgown fall to the floor and you’d stand back and stare at my firm, trim body while I’d watch your nature rise through your shorts. You’d take them off, standing at attention at the sight of me, just waiting to get in my body.”

His hand stroke quickened. “Oh yes, and then.”

“And then I would raise my right arm upward to the ceiling, rubbing my own breasts as you approached. You know how much I like it when you lick my armpit, right?”

“I know that drives you crazy.”

“And then you would insert three fingers inside of me just to see if the licking under my arm was working. I’d get so hot that I’d beg you to lay me down on my back and try your best to insert your entire hand inside of me until we were only able to see your wrist as you stroked me with your fist.”

Mason had to slow himself down. He took a deep breath and then resumed. “Oh, now you’re talking. When do I get to put my dick inside of you?”

“When I remove your hand and lick my own juices from your fingers, only to beg you to turn me over and enter me from behind.”

“Then I can put it in?”

“Only after you kiss my back, gently with your hot tongue and then kiss the nape of my neck with your thick, sexy lips. I’d poke my rear end toward you and slowly raise my leg to assist your entry.”

He felt sweat building over his eyebrows. “Do I get to push into you while I’m up against your round ass?”

“Yes, you’d find your way into my body, feeling the thrust of my swollen ass bumping up against your stomach and thighs. You’d push yourself deeper and deeper while I grab hold of the pillow with one hand, bracing myself along the edge of the bed to secure my place.”

His imagination grew more and more colorful. “Am I grabbing your titties from underneath you?”

“Yes, your hand is squeezing them, feeling them bounce as you reach around to hug me along my waist and I feel your pulsating penis about to let go.”

“Am I pounding you like you’ve been a bad girl?”

“Yes, like I’ve been a very bad girl. And then I lower my torso so that you can get all the way inside.” Her breathing started to get shorter and shorter. Her moans accompanied his next question.

“I pull your hair from the back as you look upward toward the headboard, screaming for me to hit it harder and harder, right?”

“Yes. And you pull my hair so hard that I scream.”

“Let me hear how that pussy sounds right now.”

She put the phone to her wetter than wet opening and inserted her middle finger, letting him hear the sweet sounds of the moistness he’d created.

She returned the phone to her ear. “Do you like that,” she asked.

He was deep into the moment. “That sounds so good. Now I want you to picture me in there, banging you into the mattress, plummeting you with my stiff dick. I feel your juices run like a river while you squeal for me to keep going.”

She agreed, “Yes, just like that, just like that.”

“And then just as I get a glimpse of you in the dresser mirror, I spank you so loudly and so hard that you scream again.”

“You slap me again and I scream again and again. I get so excited that I reach back to slap my own ass and you demand that I do it again and again.”

Mason put the phone between his chin and chest and started squeezing his left nipple with this left hand, focusing the thumb of
his right hand back and forth over the tip of his hard rock. “And just when I grab your cheeks as they spill in between my fingers, bouncing up and down to accompany my stroke, I feel my blood start to flow with more and more force. The flow starts to rush up my thighs, to my hips, to my ass, and all through my dick as I yell, shit, I’m coming, and shoot my cum deep inside of you. Just like that baby, just like that.” Mason slowed his words as he opened his eyes, looking down to find his own juices spewing over his fingers.

He panted deeply as he asked, “That was good, girl. Was it good for you?”

“It was really good for me, honey,” she said as though she was totally satisfied, too.

“Good night.” Mason told her.

“Sleep tight, Mace,” she said to a click.

The next Sunday, Mason returned home from Orlando and was bombarded by meetings. He also had an appearance that took up half the day. He decided to take a nap before dinner was served.

Mercedes and Venus sat in the backyard on the wrought iron chairs, overlooking the beautiful surroundings. It was time to spend that quality time with each other that Mercedes had mentioned at the mall. The conversation became real and honest.

“Venus, you cannot possibly think that this family feels indifferent toward you for marrying Claude.”

“I think they resent me for marrying my dead friend’s man, yes.”

“I can tell you that I do not. That’s for sure.”

Venus crossed her legs toward Mercedes. “Yes, Mercedes, but you can’t speak for your husband, or even my stepson. I always feel like the black sheep tramp of the family. Before I knew it, Claude and I were in Vegas saying I do.”

“I think you and Claude have a great marriage. Maybe Fatima and Claude never got married for a reason. We all know she was into her own thing.”

“Don’t I know it. Fatima was an only child. Her mother was on welfare and had trouble trying to support the two of them. When Fatima was in middle school, she found out that her birth mother
was selling her body to put food on the table. And her mom was doing it right in front of Fatima’s face. Sometimes with Fatima right in the same room of their single apartment. She’d pretend to be sleeping when a strange man would crawl right into her mother’s bed. She’d wake up the next morning and her mother would hand her a few bucks for lunch. She hated spending that money, and eating the food, and wearing the clothes that her mom’s Johns provided. It really screwed her up at a time in her life when she was very impressionable. She almost dropped out of school after one night, while her mother was sleeping, one of her mom’s tricks tried to climb in bed with Fatima but she whacked the hell out of him and ran out the door, never looking back. She ended up living with her birth father who had remarried. Those are Cameron’s grandparents who are so supportive of him now. He tried his best to get her back on track. She lost touch with her mother after a while. Her mom didn’t even come to Fatima’s funeral.”

“Dang, I never knew that.”

“I grew up down the street from Fatima. I’d let her come and stay with me and my mom and dad. That was until my mom left my dad for another man right after I graduated from college. Even in my early twenties, it turned my life around so badly. I vowed to never, ever divorce once I got married.”

“So you and Fatima had always been close, huh?”

“Oh yes. For a long time. My mother ended up moving to Chicago. I used to visit her more, before I got married. But her man and her, I mean my stepfather, never come out here to see me. My real dad has always been around though. He just refused to ever commit to a woman again. I sort of felt the same way about commitment. That’s why I wasn’t really in a serious relationship until I met Claude. But with him, it was like falling in love with a friend.”

Mercedes had a lightbulb moment. “That explains a whole lot, Venus. Life is such a trip. What happens as a child really does relate to how we treat ourselves as adults. I mean, our parents’ actions really do affect our adult relationships, don’t they?”

“They seem to.”

“And with Fatima going through all of that, it sort of explains the whole promiscuity thing. Women always complain about absent fathers, but it really hurts when a mother doesn’t make a child the priority. Her mother didn’t save her. I mean mothers are supposed to nurture and always be there. But at least Fatima grew to be close to her real dad. It seems like both of you had your dads around.”

“We did.”

“Do you ever feel bad for not being able to convince her to leave that crazy guy alone? The one who killed her.”

Venus massaged her temples as she spoke. “I tried, Mercedes. I knew Owen was fucking crazy. But Fatima was so monogamous-phobic. She had to have variety. And it was like she was trying to protect him or something. She seemed so reluctant to really break it off one hundred percent. Maybe she had some deep dark fear of him really hurting her. He’d threaten her all the time. And he did it, just like he said he would.”

“Just like he said he would? I remember you telling the police about that,” said Mercedes. She was all ears.

“He told her if she ended it, he would end it for both of them.”

“Dang. But Venus, tell me, why in the hell didn’t she just go to the police herself?”

“Maybe because she just plain old didn’t believe him. And I think it was because deep down, she really liked him. But not as a husband. She never wanted a husband. Just as a lover. Fatima was insatiable to say the least. From what she’d tell me, the two of them had crazy sex. I guess he really knew how to hit her spots.”

“That’s what those damn orgasms can do, impair your freakin’ judgment. She must have been too tired to please Claude half the time.”

“First of all, after she hooked up with Claude she didn’t have to work so she had plenty of time on her hands. But I doubt that Fatima would have had trouble pleasing even four men. I’m sure her appetite allowed her to please both of them. It’s just that Owen wanted more than she could give him.”

“Venus, there must be so much pressure on you, being that you were the only one she ever really talked to about what was going on with her and other men. Especially what was going on with that psycho. But one thing you must keep reminding yourself is that what happened to them was all a part of their experiences in their lives. You could not have saved her if her day to die was Thanksgiving afternoon. Don’t beat yourself up about it. It was God’s will.”

Venus rocked back and forth in her chair. “I beat myself up because I’m now the wife of the love of her life. She needs to be here with him, not me. She needs to be here raising her son, not me.” She banged her forehead with the palm of her hand. “Why would she ask me to go ahead with something like this? And why did I agree? This all started that night she asked me to do her a favor. She asked me to share her man for a night.”

Something nudged Venus’s memory and she recounted what happened. She sat back and crossed her legs.