Authors: Kenya Wright,Jackie Sheats
I shook my head and laughed. “I don’t believe you. Goodnight, Unknown Man who has a thing for animal names.”
And just like that, the door slammed behind me.
The rush into the woods.
. She doesn’t believe me. She really thinks I’m lying. Well, I’ve been lying the whole time. She probably thinks my name should be little boy blue, instead of Wolf. That’s what I get for blowing my horn with the whole Dr. Sheep joke.
I yanked out my phone and ignored my very hard dick, which sat sad in my pants and eager to be in the presence of Red again.
“Let’s see if I can gobble up grandma and take her place, before Red gets there.” I laughed and typed into my phone.
Hey, are you with those two women Pierre asked you to keep busy for me?
Yes. I was just going to text you. One of them is vocal about seeing her friend. The really hot one. I feel like she’s a bit violent. She smiled while making some very serious threats to my scrotum.
Her grandfather’s a golden glove champion. You may want to keep your distance.
Thanks for the warning. She wants me to take her to the roof.
Are you sure?
Yes. Just take them through the house. The longest way possible. Take the back way.
Why am I doing this again?
You know why.
The girl with the red hair?
The woman with the red hair.
I need you to do something else.
I don’t think I’m going to like this.
Grab the violent one’s phone. And don’t say you can’t. I’ve watched you steal over a hundred wallets and other things back in the day. Hand the phone to Pierre. He’ll be heading your way as you take Red’s friends to the roof.
You’re making me worried.
Usually, that’s a good thing.
I switched over to Pierre’s name on my contact list, told him to get the phone from Tito, and bring it to me as soon as possible. It was only then, when I finally opened the door, rushed down the stairs, and headed to my own private gallery on a quiet section of my penthouse.
It barely took ten minutes as I bustled through the crowd of party-goers in my smoky living space. By the time I arrived at my private gallery, Pierre was standing in front of the entrance with the friend’s phone in hand.
“Damn!” I grabbed it from him. “Tito broke a record this time.”
A frown spread over Pierre’s face.
“The stealing of her friend’s phone, is a bit over the line for courtship, don’t you think, sir?”
“This isn’t a courtship. It’s my usual thing. I’ve always enjoyed the hunt. You know that.”
“This doesn’t feel like one of your usual hunts,” he said.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“You seem a bit. . .”
“Just say it.”
“Thank you, Pierre.” I took the phone from him. “I’ll contact you when I need you.”
“I have everything under control. She’s just another chick I’m trying to see naked, nothing more.”
“You’ve never spent this much time on any woman.”
“She’s harder to get to than most.”
“Perhaps, that’s what makes the chase more eager to you, or maybe it’s that you both have a shared interests in graffiti art.”
“Neither. It’s her boobs.”
Pierre gave me a knowing look. “Okay, sir. I hope this works out for you.”
“It will. Oh yeah, and do one more thing for me.”
“Go back to the table that they were at. Red should be there. Escort her to the gallery.”
“Would she come with me again?”
“She will. Trust me.”
As Pierre walked off, I undid the lock screen with a thumb swipe and spotted two missed calls from the same number, one I knew to be Red’s. Digits I’d paid a lot of money to discover.
Pierre might be right. I have spent more time and money than usual on one woman. Why?
In that moment, Red called the phone. It buzzed in my hand. Excitement hit me, then disappointment as I realized that she wasn’t calling me, she was dialing her friend.
I pressed ignore and then typed in a text.
Hey, we’re in the gallery. Ask Pierre to show you how to get here.
Did I say something wrong?
You said Pierre as if you were on a first name basis with him.
Oh. He’s nice.
Nice as in panty-wetting nice? Or nice as in cuddly puppy?
How wet are your panties, Red?
Hurrying into the gallery, I decided to take a risk, and type something else.
How did the commission go?
Don’t know. I was really high. I probably imagined all the sexual attraction in the air.
Damn you. Then why did you run off?
You like him?
Who cares? I’ve no time for men. I’m still on my three year pause. No penis until fame and fortune.
My cock twitched in my pants. She’d been sex-free for three years? That type of woman would be nice to have in my bed. One who’d saved herself for something more. Granted it wasn’t for marriage or God, but something I truly believed in, art.
After I taste you, you’ll be happy that you waited so long. I’ll give you three years’ worth of anything your body needs.
The Big Bad Wolf
the second time that day, I followed Pierre on a set of stairs. This time we went down instead of up. The stairs were also done differently, no décor of any type, just plain white walls and dusty steps.
“So your boss is the Wolf?” I asked.
I’d meant it as a joke, but Pierre stopped climbing the stairs and stared back at me in shock. “He. . .he told you that? He told you his name?”
“Wow. That’s really good acting. Does he pay you for that?”
“Does Mr. Furry Wolf pay you to pretend he’s different animals so that he can get women in bed?”
“That’s a tricky question.” He adjusted his collar as if it was ruffled. “It’s clear that he’s lied about some things, but. . .he is the famous artist, Wolf. I’m just. . .thoroughly shocked that after all of these years, he’s come out to you, someone he’s. . .”
He cleared his throat. “He’s been interested in for a while.”
“For a while?” I eyed him. “We’ve only met today.”
“He’s been intrigued by you for some time.”
“What are you saying?”
Pierre seemed to look off beyond me. “I can’t believe he told you his street name.”
“Oh, come on.”
Pierre maintained that straight face. “You really don’t believe him?”
“I don’t believe him or you.” I walked past him. “So where’s this gallery? I’m ready to meet up with my friends.”
“He is the wolf,” Pierre said behind me.
“Yeah. Yeah.” I got to the top, opened the door, and headed down the only way one could go.
“Mrs. Red? Hold on, please.”
I stopped and turned his way. “What?”
“You cannot tell this to anyone. His identity must be kept secret. I’ll need you to sign paperwork before you go.” He toyed with that collar some more. “In fact, I’ll rush some papers up to you within a few minutes.”
“I’m not signing anything.” I continued down the hall toward an opened white door where jazz music drifted out. “I don’t trust him or you. Maybe next time your Dr. Sheep could be more honest.”
I got to the door and pushed it forward, but before I could walk in, Pierre grabbed my arm.
“Ah!” I slapped his hand away. “Don’t touch me.”
Coco’s grandfather had done a good job with keeping us motivated to protect ourselves. I’d had to knock a few guys out with some prominent hits here and there.
I put my back to the door, rolled my fingers, and got into the stance Coco’s grandfather had taught us when we were only in middle school. “Back away. You’re weirding me out and I’m already pretty out there with my thinking right now.”
Pierre raised his hands and backed up. “Oh God. I’m so sorry. I was only trying to get your attention to help you understand how serious this is.”
“I’m not signing anything. In fact, I’m getting out of here.”
He took one step forward. “You can’t leave without signing—”
A familiar dark voice sounded behind me. “She’ll leave when she’s ready, and on her terms.”