My Woman His Wife Saga (33 page)

This chick looked just like Monica. Chocolate-brown skin, kissable nipples, and all. She'd been gyrating and popping her pussy in my face for the last five minutes . . . working hard for this twenty I was holding in my hand. I was contemplating how long I should make her sweat, because if I added just ten more dollars I could get me a VIP session that would mean more than a mere lap dance. The J Spot had some of the best girls in the tri-state area doing a lot of strange shit for some change, and I contributed to their bills more often than I wanted to admit. Fuck it, I was a man after all. What did she expect me to do if I wasn't getting it at home? Keep stroking one out? There wasn't an ice cube's chance in hell that I was going to keep going out like that.

Jazz was messing up my groove though, just like she messed up everything else. I could hear my phone vibrating on the bar next to my shot of Hennessy, but I refused to answer it. I didn't feel like hearing her bitch because I didn't go and pick the kids up. I didn't feel like it. She was being a smart ass claiming she had to stay at work late, but I was sure she'd figure it out when the afterschool program called her because she was late. There was a fee to pay of five dollars for every five minutes you were late, but she had the money. Shit, she practically had my entire check so she'd just have to handle it. I knew she would be at least forty-five minutes late, so she could just spend some of my hard-earned money on something other than shoes and overpriced handbags.

Mocha, the Monica body double who was dancing in front of me, was a snake charmer. The way she moved her body made me sway with her. I couldn't help it. I knew she had to have a juicy pussy, too, and the more I sat there and thought about it the more I knew I had to get at it before I rolled out tonight. It was only right. She entertained me relentlessly every time I came here, so why not test the goods to see if it's worth it? I'd have been a fool not to.

There were two other girls dancing on either side of me, and the one girl picked up my phone while it was vibrating and pushed the talk button. I wasn't even fazed by the shit. I gently took the phone out of her hand, and when I saw that she had answered Jazz's call I just hung the phone back up. Fuck it. Shit was going to be off the chain when I got home anyway, so I might as well have enjoyed myself now. Only God knew when the next time would be that I would be able to get out and have fun after the all-night argument that would go down tonight, so there was no use in rushing home to the bullshit. Feel me?

Mocha bent down and took my phone out of my hand and inserted it in her juicy pussy. Climbing down from the bar she made her way over to the VIP room, and I had no choice but to follow her. After all, she did have my phone. The right thing to do would be to get it out before it started ringing again. My dick was straining against my Sean John slacks, and I couldn't wait for Mocha to release it. She had a wicked smile on her face that let me know I was in for a treat. I paid at the window and was escorted back to one of the many used rooms where I had a ball fishing my now dripping-wet phone from out of Mocha and filling the void with my stiffness. I wore her ass out for the entire thirty minutes I paid for because I knew once I got home it would be awhile before I could come back this way again.

It took me a little longer than it should have to get home because there was a real bad accident blocking Ford Road. The expressway was still a little backed up from the rush-hour traffic, so I had to sit in traffic either way until I found a street I could turn off on. The accident was indeed horrible. A utility pole was knocked down almost completely, causing downed wires on that block. You could see the medics working to get out whoever it was who was trapped inside of the wreck, and it didn't look like there would be any survivors. That just made me wish these people would move so I could get home a little quicker. That was someone's family in that Jeep: a loss no one was ever ready for.

It took me an hour and a half to get home, a trip that would normally only take me about thirty-five minutes. I didn't see Jazz's Jeep in the driveway, so I figured she might have gone to her mom's house before coming home. It was slushy and hailing outside, and I knew how she hated to drive in this kind of weather. I was still feeling a little tipsy from all the drinks I downed at the strip joint so I mellowed out on the couch for a minute before I went upstairs. I knew Jazz wouldn't be out too late so I at least wanted to be in comfortable clothes because I was sure we would be up for a couple of hours arguing.

I must have dozed off on the couch because when I woke up the nightly news was on, and someone was banging on my door. Jazz still hadn't come home, and I got an instant attitude because now she was taking shit too far. She was probably going to stay the night at her mom's, but the least she could have done was called. It was just like Jazz to be on some self-centered bullshit, so I wasn't surprised.

The banging on the door was persistent and I figured maybe she decided to show up after all, and needed help bringing the kids in. I took my sweet old time getting to the door just to piss her off even further. That accident that I went past earlier was being discussed on the news, but I had the television on mute so I couldn't hear what they were saying.

I had my screw face on when I opened the door, only to be greeted by Jazz's brother punching me in my face. He, along with a few of her uncles and her dad, took time to beat the shit out of me in front of my own house. I couldn't swing back if I tried because they were swooping down on me. The cold numbed my body just as fast as the blows from their fists and Tims, so I balled up in a fetal position until they were done.

Her father grabbed me by my bloody collar and pulled me up to a wobbly standing position.
I don't know what I did to deserve this, but Jazz has a lot of explaining to do. Damn, is not picking up the kids worth all this?

“It's because of your stupidity that my baby girl is in the hospital,” her father yelled at me before tossing me into the living room like a rag doll.

“What are you talking about?” I asked as I wiped blood from my mouth with my shirt. I was thinking I might have lost a tooth in the scuffle; I just couldn't tell at this moment.

Instead of answering, Jazz's brother picked up the remote and unmuted the television. I watched in horror as the accident I couldn't get by earlier was played again. I could see what I now recognized as Jazz's truck smashed up against the pole as the newscaster warned us that the scene would be graphic. They showed the Jaws of Life trying to pry open the roof of the car. Even though her license plate was scrambled I knew it was her car. I instantly felt like shit.
Why didn't I just go and get the kids?

“Where are my kids?” I asked, my stomach feeling weak like I was about to vomit. Here I was out having sex with strippers and my wife was wrapped around a damn telephone pole. The look on their faces said it all.
Did my kids die? What happened with Jazz?
I broke down and cried like a baby. Was I such a horrible person that I would be punished like this?

“Save all those bullshit tears and go clean yourself up. We need to get down to the hospital as soon as possible,” Jazz's brother barked at me as he watched the news play back the accident for what seemed like the hundredth time within minutes. I dragged my sore body from the couch, and went upstairs to get myself together. They really did a number on me, but I wasn't concerned with that right now. I needed to see what was up with my family.

When I got back downstairs I could see Jazz's uncles trying to console her father, and I didn't think I was ready to face the situation just yet. What if Jazz had died and they didn't want to say it right now? I felt myself hyperventilating as I was squeezed between the other men in the car. All kinds of crazy thoughts ran through my head as the drive to the hospital seemed to take forever.

“You better hope for your sake that everything is okay when we get there,” her father warned from the passenger's seat. I couldn't say a word; I just closed my eyes and tried like hell to rewind the day so that I could do things differently. I knew we were going through shit, but my wife was all I had. Furthermore, and what seemed a whole lot worse, if something was indeed wrong how was I going to explain it to Monica?

Okay, so she rolled out on her son years ago, but that didn't mean that she didn't have the right to know that he had been harmed or even killed. No one could consciously deny anyone that right. I was a lot of things, but heartless wasn't one of them. If something happened to this woman's child then I would have to call and let her know. Simple as that.

Philly was a mess. Even more so was the flight over. There was so much turbulence I thought for sure we were goners a few times. I was so tense the entire ride, and as I looked around and saw people sleeping I couldn't understand how they could be. Were they at peace with God to the point that if they died it didn't matter? I had years of praying to catch up on, and I wasn't ready to go just yet. When the plane finally landed at Philadelphia International Airport and we had clearance to exit I was one of the first people off that joint, almost forgetting my carry-on.

I was glad to be back for a few reasons. For one, there was nothing like Philly. The air was different down here. The people were different, and the atmosphere just screamed pride. I loved it, and was seriously contemplating moving back. It'd been four years since I'd been home, and I couldn't wait to get back into the scene. The few times I did come back were to do exhibits, but that was work and I didn't get a chance to chill. I did meet this chic though, Jaydah B, and letting her come to Atlanta and stay at my place was a huge mistake.

Who knew she would be so clingy? She's this famous author right here from Philly who was killing the charts with her erotic novels. She was nasty too, and proved to be a bit of competition in the bedroom. Oh, some of the things she did to me had me like damn! I was giving her all I had and she was giving that shit right back like she knew what she was doing.

For some reason she thought we would just be laid up for two weeks, and that I didn't have a company to run. Besides, the Safe Haven and my art gallery didn't run themselves. Who did she think did all the leg work? Robots? In addition to that, I still photographed for several well-known magazine publications, and they paid me well so there was no way I was missing out on any of that money. When she wasn't out doing book signings she was on my damn phone wanting to talk and have phone sex. I had the lives of damaged teens in my hands that needed my attention, and possible buyers of my art so that I could make money. I didn't have time to fuck all day whether it was by phone or otherwise. She was on fire, and for the first time in never I didn't think I had what it took to turn her out. She wasn't shit like Jazz and Sheila; she knew what to do in the bedroom. She was just a tad bit annoying though so we cut that trip short. It was time for homegirl to go on home and write another book or something. Anything was better than her being in my damn face.

Needless to say, I was not happy when we arrived in Philly and the city was practically shut down. There were normally cabs lined up outside of baggage claim waiting for people, but today they were few and far between, and the line was extra long. I just needed to get to the Embassy Suites so that I could fall back for a second. Jaydah invited me to stay at her condo, but I declined. I had enough of her for the last week and a half to last a lifetime. Sexually, I would definitely hook up with her again, but right now she was riding hard on my nerves and I just needed some space. This was just a chill thing, but she was already acting like we were in a relationship.

The crowds of people who were stranded at the airport were nothing but a huge ball of frustration. People were ready to go home, and from the looks of it they would be sleeping in these hard-ass chairs at least until the morning. I barely made it here myself, and for a lot of people who were on the same plane I was, it was a connecting flight. All the boards had delayed signs coming in and going out, and the chatter of cell phone calls being made to loved ones was almost deafening.

I had no loved ones to call. My sister was out in Atlanta, partying hard as shit, and I'd been having trouble catching up with her for the last few weeks. I thought she would be cool once she made the Falcons cheerleading squad, but all she seemed to do was step her party game way up, and I knew she was sleeping with a number of the players on the team. Those eight balls she loved didn't seem to be enough for her anymore either, and her habit was out of control. I offered help, but she didn't think she needed it so there was nothing I could do but wait and see what happened.

My sister was the truth, too. I'd even have gone so far as to admit she was even prettier than me. Where I was dark chocolate, Yolanda was a smooth, flawless butterscotch. I had a nice ass, but Yolanda had a donkey that many a video chicks was jealous over. She had a nice full D cup that could go braless, and her jet-black hair reached damn near to the top of her ass, and it was all hers. She was the shit, but you could almost see the effects of her lifestyle wearing away at her face . . . almost. Yolanda stayed on point and you would never catch her half ass, and I just hoped she stayed that way.

After standing in line for more than an hour, pissed that I let Jaydah leave, not taking her offer to drive me to the hotel, I finally got a cab. The gypsy driver couldn't stop staring at my ass long enough to put my shit in the trunk, and I let him stare, too, because I knew this ride would be on him.

“Where are you going?” he asked me in a thick Indian accent, and I flirted shamelessly as I gave him directions. His cab smelled like a mixture of Old Spice and an Italian hoagie with all the fixings, but I thugged it out until I got to my destination. I didn't have a choice, being as cabs were scarce at the moment, and I didn't feel like waiting on another one after the rough flight I just had.

“I'm staying at the Embassy Suites on Bartram Avenue,” I flirted shamelessly with the cab driver. He looked like he wanted to climb in the back seat and fuck me against the glass, and in my earlier days I probably would have let him. The Embassy was literally only about five minutes from the airport, and would cost no more than ten dollars to get there, but I didn't pay for anything I didn't have to.

This was going to be a quick ride, so I knew whatever I was going to do had to be done if I was riding for free. Searching the outside pocket of my carry-on, I pulled out my trusty pink vibrator. It looked like a thick plastic spoon that had a little dip in the middle of the circle for lubrication. It wasn't shaped like a dick or anything, so unless a person owned one, you wouldn't know what it was.

I turned the tip of it to the left, hoping my battery hadn't died. The buzz coming from my little toy indicated that I would be cool at least from here to the hotel, but I would need some batteries soon. The sound caught the driver's ear, and I saw him through the rearview mirror as we sat at the red light waiting our turn to go. Moving swiftly yet elegantly, I pulled my long dress up around my hips, and slipped one leg out of the tights I wore underneath to cover my bare bottom from the cold. The look on the cab driver's face showed that he was happy to see I didn't have any panties on.

After placing a small drop of KY Warming Liquid directly on my clit, I gave the driver a show as I slowly ground against the pulse of the vibrator. I used my free hand to spread my lips open so that he could get a good view, and I closed my eyes and leaned back as I worked magic on my quickly approaching orgasm. I moaned and licked my lips as thoughts of James, Jasmine, and Sheila took turns licking my pussy and fingering me. It was weird because I hadn't thought much about them in a while, and I guessed being back in Philly conjured up those feelings.

I was so lost in thought, I didn't even realize that we had already reached the hotel and the cab driver had pulled up behind the building instead of at the door. I could see slight drool form on the side of his mouth through the mirror as his right hand moved in a quick up and down motion indicating that he was jerking off. This was going to be easier than I thought. I noticed that the meter was still running, and he had to know I wasn't paying a dime if he got one off too.

“Miss Lady, your pussy sure looks like it tastes good. How can I find out?” the cab driver asked, his accent not as evident as when I first got in. That led me to believe that he only used it when necessary, and that this might not be his first time witnessing a masturbation session in the back of his cab. Eyeing the meter, I saw that it was now up to about fifteen dollars. Now, I was willing to pay ten if I necessarily had to, but anything more than that was not going to happen.

I let the thought spin around in my head for a second as my orgasm approached, and figured what harm could it be to let the man taste the best pussy in the world. After all, he probably never had anything like it before and wouldn't ever get the opportunity again. The look on his face said that he might tear it up, too. Shit, if he was any good I might have had to get his number before he pulled off.

“Okay, I'll let you taste it,” I answered seductively while I removed my tights completely and slid my feet back into my Ugg boots so they wouldn't touch the dirty floor. “But this ride is on you. Understand?”

He simply smiled and got out of the car, exposing his rock-hard dick to the rain and sleet that was beating Philly to death. I turned sideways in the chair, and opened my legs wide for him to eat, lifting my dress up over my hips so that only my ass touched the seat. I didn't want to have to get out with a wet spot on my ass. He opened the back door of the cab, and his smile got wider when he saw I wasn't playing. He was working with some shit himself, and if it weren't for his foul body odor I might have entertained the thought of finishing this up in my room. Depending on how he handled his business I just might . . . after he showered of course.

The cab driver scrunched his tall frame into the back seat, and wasted no time placing my legs on his shoulders and devouring me. He practically sucked my entire pussy into his mouth, and I must say I wasn't ready for a beat down like that. If there were walls in the cab I definitely would have been climbing them.

He used his entire tongue to massage my clit, and took the liberty of inserting three of his huge fingers into my tight walls. I flinched a little because I didn't get a chance to see if his fingernails were clean, and I doubted if he had washed his hands at all today. My body paid my thoughts no mind as I bounced up and down on his hand uncontrollably, my pussy begging for release.

“Yeah, just like that,” I moaned as I tried unsuccessfully to hold my orgasm a little longer. My walls began to clinch and I could feel my clit pulsate against his tongue as my honey ran out of me and soaked the back seat. The cab driver dove deeper between my legs, lapping up all of my juices from the inside of my thighs, and afterward his fingertips.

“Damn, that was good,” he said right before his body stiffened, and he released all over the back of the front seat. The sight of his babies sliding down the faux leather backing and onto the floor made my stomach do a flip, but I kept my composure.

He took a minute to catch his breath, then without a word climbed out of the back, and took his position back in the front seat like he was a limo driver, and I was a high-profile client. I smiled as I watched him use his tongue to taste what was left of me on the corner of his mouth. When we pulled around to the front of the hotel, he jumped out and got my bags out of the trunk while I gathered my stuff in the back seat. He even insisted on taking my bags all the way inside.

“How much do I owe you?” I asked him with a sly smile on my face, needing to make this quick because I could still feel my honey running down the inside of my legs.

“Just take my number, Miss Lady,” he said as he gave me a business card to the cab company he worked for with his number written on the back. “You can pay me back another time.”

I just smiled, and waited for him to leave before I gave the receptionist my room information. I didn't need him trying to creep back up here later on for payment. The bellhop looked rather tasty, and I could feel him watching my ass as I sashayed to the elevator. He never took his eyes from my behind as we made our way to the top floor of the hotel, and I made sure he knew to come back after his shift was over once I was situated.

After I got comfortable in the room I looked out at the snow that coated the city, and the mess that it was creating for everyone. The real purpose of my being here reminded me that I had to get on the horn and make some calls. I had some business that I needed to handle, and first on the list was finding out where my son was.