Put A Ring On It (28 page)

The evening routine was madness. Vangie had to pay the day care bill, an expense that Shawn would have handled had he taken Yuri to the day care center this morning. Yuri was in the back seat squirming around and trying to avoid putting on his seatbelt, and he was whining for her to stop at McDonald’s. In the blink of an eye, she’d become a struggling single parent again.

When her cell chimed, Vangie rolled her eyes at Shawn’s name and handed it to Yuri. “It’s your father,” she said with an attitude.

“Hi, Daddy! We’re on our way to McDonald’s. Do you want us to get you a number three?”

At the light, Vangie turned around and caught a glimpse of Yuri’s expression changing from joy to confusion.

“Daddy said he’s not coming home anymore.” His tone of voice accused her of chasing his father away.

Disgusted, Vangie reached for the phone. “Give me the phone, Yuri.”

“This is not the way to handle this situation, Shawn,” she spat. “You should have come to the apartment and talked to Yuri in person.”

“It’s crowded at the shop. I can’t get away right now,” Shawn explained.

From the backseat, Yuri started crying.

“Do you hear your son? Do you hear what I have to deal with? Thanks a lot, Shawn.”

“I told you last night that I was going to call him. If you wanted me to talk to him in person, why didn’t you say so?”

“I was distressed last night. I couldn’t make any rational decisions.”

“I’ll stop by tomorrow.”

“What time?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Look, you don’t get to drop through whenever it suits you. If you want to see Yuri, then make a damn appointment.”

She clicked the red button and tossed her cell back in her purse.

“Why’d you hang up?” Yuri asked tearfully. “I wasn’t finished talking to my Daddy.”

“You’ll see him soon.”

“When?”

“I don’t know.”

“He’d come back home if you stopped hollering at him. You made my Daddy leave me.”

“That’s not true. Your father moved out because he and I don’t agree on a very important issue…marriage. He wants to stay single and I want to be married. I have principles, Yuri. You’ll understand when you’re older.”

“Daddy told me that you didn’t need a piece of paper to be married.”

“Oh, really? Don’t listen to everything your father tells you. A
man and a woman who have a child together should be married. I was young when I had you. I shouldn’t have put the horse before the cart,” she said, misusing the old expression.

“You put a horse before what?” Yuri said with a baffled look in his eyes.

“A woman should be married before she has a baby,” Vangie explained. “But now that I’m older and wiser, I refuse to be shacking with your father indefinitely. I need a ring on my finger.”

“Is Daddy ever coming back?” Yuri asked, unconcerned about his mother’s marital woes.

“No, he’s not.”

“But I want him to come back!”

“I can’t force your father to come back,” Vangie said in a voice that was flat and dispirited.

Yuri wailed while Vangie placed their order at McDonald’s drive-thru. He cried for the duration of the drive home. By the time they got to their apartment, he moped around, refusing to eat his Happy Meal, and speaking to Vangie in sullen tones. The boy was treating her like she was a she-devil and acting like his father was some sort of martyred saint.

F
eeling good about herself for the first time in quite a while, Nivea pulled into the parking space in front of her townhouse. Thanks to the grounds crew that worked at her complex, her private parking spot was cleanly shovelled and salted. The sun had set and the temperature had plummeted. The unending bitter cold didn’t affect her mood this evening.

Her mint green bra, hastily removed by a nimble-fingered physician, peeked from her briefcase. Nivea smiled in gloating satisfaction at the memory of the day’s conquests.

Though she’d struck out with Dr. Joseph, the other male doctors she’d paid special visits were enthusiastic about doing business with her. After sampling her personal goods, they’d all promised to increase their amount of monthly prescription writing.

Sure, she’d had to stoop to whorish tactics to get what she wanted, but her method for success would remain her own dirty little secret. She’d done what she had to do to secure her top sales position. And she’d had fun in the process.

Now she had to get her personal life in order. If Nivea didn’t tie the knot before her sister’s wedding, she’d be considered the family failure.

But she had absolutely no prospects. No way to make a husband materialize.

Knox! Nivea shook her head. She’d really been into him, but he’d turned out to be a huge disappointment. She hadn’t realized until last night how totally attached Knox was to her ditzy sister.

Maybe she’d have better luck trying to work her magic on one of the doctors on her client list. On second thought, why bother? They all were wearing wedding bands, and she simply didn’t have the time or patience to break up a marriage.

Inside her house, she went straight to her bedroom and changed from her work clothes into a flannel nightgown. With no man in her life, she could dress for comfort. She finished the frumpy look with a pair of unattractive wool slipper socks.

Hungry, Nivea plodded to the kitchen and was hit with a horrible odor. A dead mouse trapped in the walls? She grimaced at the thought. Then she eyed the trash bin with suspicion and lifted the lid.
Oh, Gawd!
There was a half-filled container of Chinese food…chicken broccoli that she’d tossed three or four days ago. The broccoli was rancid, funking up the whole house.

Filled with disgust, Nivea yanked out the green plastic bag, and secured it with a tight knot. She threw her big faux fur coat over her nightgown. She hated having to take the trash out. Times like this she wished the hardworking crew who took care of the grounds around her complex would handle some household chores, too.

The frigid cold had her pacing quickly to the Dumpster, which was situated in a semi-private spot behind visitors’ parking. A cold and sharp wind smacked against her back. Yearning for the warmth of her house, Nivea quickly flung the trash bag. It thumped heavily into the Dumpster.

Just as she was about to turn around, she noticed a looming shadow. Her muscles tensed and she instantly felt the sudden sensation of warmth.

Someone had crept up behind her, blocking the whipping wind. She sucked in a frightened breath.

Large hands pressed her against the Dumpster, preventing her from moving.

“Oh, my God!”

“Shh!” The utterance was husky and male.

“Please don’t hurt me,” she squeaked, trying to twist around and face her attacker.

“Be quiet!” the voice said in a whispered shout, forcibly holding her in place.

With the side of her face pressed against the cold Dumpster, Nivea shivered as the assailant yanked up her coat and flannel gown. He pushed against her bare backside, grinding and murmuring hoarsely, “You like it dirty, don’t you?”

She couldn’t speak. She shook her head, denying the accusation. She didn’t like it dirty! At least not like this, not outside in the cold…next to a trash Dumpster. Nivea trembled with fear and indignation.

From behind, he shoved a hand between her thighs, his four fingers journeying purposefully toward the slit of her vagina. His middle finger took on an unexpected tenderness when it reached its destination, burrowing into the sticky heat that had accumulated into a thick puddle of lust.

His finger delved deeper. A flood of passion swept through Nivea; she acknowledged that something dark and carnal had been awakened inside her.

The stranger withdrew his finger from her warm depth. Mounting her from behind, he replaced his finger with the swollen tip of his dick.

Like an apprehended criminal, Nivea widened her stance, arms outstretched, palms pressed against the metal surface of the trash bin. Inexplicably, she wanted every inch of this stranger’s pulsing flesh. She briefly wondered if she were being fucked by one of the Hispanic workers who shoveled snow and kept the grounds neat and clean.

His dick probe was harsh and unrelenting as it searched for her hidden treasure.

With each thrust of his heated shaft, he pulled her hair. “You like it dirty?” he demanded in a coarse voice, spoken close to her ear. The attacker wore a ski mask; Nivea could feel the rough fabric scraping against her neck and the side of her face.

“Tell me! Do you like it dirty, bitch?” he whispered in a voice that was so strangled with lust, there was no discernible accent.

“Yes,” she finally admitted after giving up on trying to detect an accent or place the voice. This ski-masked, night-fucker was bringing out her depraved side.

She moved in concert with the masked man, shoving back as she willingly accepted the hot and meaty dick that filled her. Nivea moaned and scratched at the metal trash bin, her pussy clenching around the base of the stranger’s dick as it pounded violently.

Then his strokes slowed, leisurely searching until her sweet spot was found.

“Ahh,” Nivea cried out as she tumbled to the edge of ecstasy. She went limp, murmuring and moaning with her head and torso drooping downward.

The stranger wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her inert body to him, as he hammered hard. Nivea’s pussy made squishy noises. “That girl juice feels nice and nasty on my dick,” he groaned.

Too spent to talk or move, Nivea smiled in perverted satisfaction.

“Damn, you look sexy taking out the trash…” His voice trailed off as he groaned and released a titanic explosion.

The stranger’s voice sounded suddenly familiar. Nivea whipped around and grabbed at the ski mask.

“Knox!”

“Miss me?” he asked, wearing a crooked smile. Before she could speak, he started turning her around.

“You crazy bastard! What the hell is wrong with you?” She raised her fist to hit him.

He caught her fist. “Chill out.”

“How could you do something like that to me? I was terrified.”

Knox looked stunned. “I thought you enjoyed getting freaky and living out your fantasies.”

“Getting raped is not one of my fantasies.”

“The way you were slamming that pussy back at me, seemed like you were into it.”

Nivea opened her mouth to protest.

“Shh!” Knox said. “Feel my dick; I need some.” He pressed hand against his hardness. “Ooo, come on, baby. Bend over for me. Let me get up in it one more time.”

She looked around nervously, wondering if any of her neighbor’s had witnessed the whorish exhibition. “Let’s go in the house, Knox. It’s cold out here.”

“I can warm you up.” His dick pulsed inside her hand. He nudged Nivea into the side of the Dumpster.

“Someone might be watching, Knox,” she murmured.

“Let ’em watch,” he replied, pushing his dick inside her creamy warmth. “Don’t you like being watched?”

Sopping wet and writhing with desire, Nivea responded with a shuddering whimper.

B
eing alone on New Year’s Eve felt like crap. Yuri was with his father, and Vangie had no one to celebrate with. She’d planned on spending New Year’s Eve with Harlow, but Drake came to town unexpectedly, and Vangie couldn’t blame Harlow for dropping their plans to spend a quiet evening with her man.

So here she was, absolutely alone, guzzling cheap champagne, and gazing at the TV and waiting for the ball to drop at Times Square. When the clock struck midnight, Vangie felt panicked. She didn’t like bringing the New Year in by herself. It was ridiculous for her and Shawn to be apart. Ridiculous!

She thought about the way Shawn made love to her. Pictured his hot chocolate body, and she wanted him more than ever. It seemed unfathomable that while they were together, she had become annoyed by his sexual advances.

After another glass of champagne, Vangie became emboldened. She called Shawn, pressing his number quickly, before she lost her nerve.

“Yeah,” Shawn answered gruffly.

“Is Yuri awake? I wanted to wish him a Happy New Year.” Despite being tipsy, her voice came out in a steady and even.

“Nah, Yuri’s out cold.”

“I was thinking about you, you know…thinking about us. Maybe we acted too hastily. I miss you, Shawn,” she admitted timidly.

Shawn didn’t say anything. The silence on the other end of the phone was deafening, causing Vangie to instantly regret calling Shawn. “Are you there?”

“Yeah, I’m here,” he replied dryly.

“Well, say something.”

“Nothing to say. I spoke my peace. You spoke yours. We don’t see eye-to-eye. No point in beating a dead horse.”

In desperation, Vangie swallowed her pride. “I really want to try and work things out. Why don’t you and Yuri come to the apartment tomorrow?” Nervously, she cleared her throat. “I’ll fix dinner,” she said with forced joviality. “I want to start the year off right.”

Once again, Shawn went mute, and Vangie felt compelled to fill the silence. “I’m willing to work with you, Shawn. You know, compromise,” she rambled. She heard herself agreeing to compromise, but she knew in her heart that she hadn’t changed her viewpoint on marriage. But she intended to change Shawn’s. Once she got him back in her clutches.