Sexaholics (13 page)

“Actually, they’ll be here in a minute.”

“All right. Well, you enjoy your day off. Tell T.J. I said
hey.”

“I will. Are you still coming by tonight?”

“You know it,” he confirmed.

“Good.”

“I love you, baby.”

“I love you too, baby.”

She disconnected the call and placed her iPhone on the bar when another call
rang. It read
Front Gate
. She pressed 9.

She stood barefoot upon the off-white level-loop carpeting and rushed around
to toss the empty bottles of Corona she and Tariq had devoured until the wee
hours of the morning, and then hurried to the bathroom to brush her teeth.

Moments later she heard
Knock, knock.

Miki sprinted to the front door, toothbrush still in her mouth, undid the
latch, and turned the knob.

With excitement filling his eyes, the voice of little T.J.—short for
Tony Jr.—leapt before she could fully get the door open. “Hey, Mom.
Guess what? Dad bought me a SpongeBob SquarePants watch. Look.” He burst
inside, holding up his wrist and opening and closing the yellow flip top. Then
he removed his tennis shoes, tossing them upon the blond bamboo entryway floor.
His blue soccer-team shirt had his last name on the back—his
father’s last name, Santonio.

Anthony Santonio watched his elated son, who was his spitting image from his
wavy hair to his red skin, and stepped inside, closing the door behind himself.
He pulled off his shoes as well.

“That’s nice,” Miki said with a mixture of saliva and
toothpaste in her mouth. She did not fully eye Anthony, and stepped away.
“No need to take your shoes off,” she said while giving him her
back. She reentered the bathroom, leaning over the black marble vessel sink,
where she rinsed and spit. She turned on the brass faucet, rinsing again and
brushing her tongue.

She heard his deep voice behind her. “So, what’s up with
you?”

“Nothing, Anthony. Why?”

“Just wondering what you guys are doing today since T.J. doesn’t
have school and you’re off work.”

“I don’t know. We’ll probably head to lunch and maybe the
park. Why?”

“Just asking,” he said, as he closed the door and slowly locked
it.

Miki grabbed the bottle of cocoa butter lotion from the sink and sat upon the
side of the roman tub.

Anthony sniffed slowly, taking in the scent that soaked the air as she rubbed
the cream over her bare legs. He crossed his arms and watched. “You sure
smell good. I love the way that smells on you. Always have.”

“Thanks.”

“You need help with that?” he asked. His eyes looked pathetically
willing to accommodate.

She put one hand up and cut her eyes. “No, Anthony, I don’t. Now
don’t start.”

“Don’t start what? I just wanna help you out.”

“Well, I don’t need any help.”

“Are you sure?” he asked, sounding half-sexy as he leaned down
and rested his knees upon the warm russet ceramic tile, smack dab in front of
her. “You usually do.”

“Anthony.” She took a deep breath, dropping her shoulders.

“Anthony, what?”

She shook her head. “Not today.”

“Why not today?”

“I’m tired. That’s all. Just…”

He kissed her eyelid softly and she closed both eyes for two seconds. But she
opened them as he retreated from her face. She just looked at him.

“Just what?” he asked. He undid the towel from her chest, and it
fell behind her. He stared at her full breasts as they hung free. With one hand
he strummed her large nipple with his thumb, rolling it along the hardening tip,
and with his other hand he rubbed her elongated calf, moving his hand up to
massage the shape of her curvy thigh. He leaned in toward her hairline and
kissed her forehead. Her damp hair smelled of garden rain shampoo. He moved his head back and simply stared.

Miki stared at him as well. He was good looking, like a shorter version of
Rick Fox. He wore dark blue Enyce jeans and a white and blue T-shirt. She was
six inches away from his face and he was eyeing her down. She could smell his
spearmint breath as his hand found her pussy lips. She leaned her head back and
sighed.

She felt him lower himself down more and heard him say,
“Relax.”

“Anthony.”

This time he replied with his tongue.

His tongue upon her middle.

His lips upon her juicy split.

Her legs separated involuntarily as though giving permission for him to
continue.

She shut her eyes again and leaned back even more against the tub’s
ceramic surface.

T.J.’s voice sounded from the other side of the bathroom door.
“Mommy. Mommy can I have some ice cream?”

“Huh?” she asked, half-concentrating.

“Mommy, I want some ice cream, please.”

“It’s too early for ice cream. Go in your room and
wait.”

“Where’s Daddy?”

“Tony, go,” she yelled insistently, trying not to sound
breathless, while Anthony didn’t miss a beat.

T.J.’s footsteps could be heard stomping away, along with a grunt and a
whimper.

And Miki made a sound of a whimper herself. Whimpering because her
baby’s daddy always knew just how to find her clit and bring her to a
climax in record time. And whimpering for the fact that for the life of her, she
couldn’t resist what he was still willing to do to her.

Her legs quaked and she came in his mouth as usual, always harder than she
had with other men. His face departed upon her last throb. Her legs trembled for
another second.

He allowed her to catch her breath and then stood up, wiping his mouth with
the back of his hand. He poked his chest out farther than before he’d
walked in.

Miki shook her head, as if to shake herself from his pussy powers, and sat
forward, putting her towel back around her chest. “Damn, your dumb ass
does know your way around a vagina.”

“Unlike any other you will ever meet. Bank it.”

She scooted forward and continued lotioning herself. “Maybe. Maybe not.
But I’ll tell you one thing. Your significant other’s gonna kick
your ass one day if she ever finds out. You need to stop fucking around on that
girl.”

“You need to stop fucking around on that boy.”

“Good-bye, Anthony.”

Miki’s eyes shifted to his crotch as he adjusted his obvious hard-on
beyond his jeans. He simply walked out, closed the bathroom door, said his
good-bye to his son, and left.

Anthony always had been able to bring on the millisecond orgasms. And she
knew she would probably always let him do his thing.

It wasn’t hurting her.

It was on him.

He was the one who violated his marriage vows.

Not her.

She hadn’t made any vows, and as far as she was concerned she never
would.

*   *   *   

Miki pulled up to the concrete building on the corner near Venice Beach
with the bright red capital letters that read
Killer Shrimp
. Little
T.J. was strapped in the backseat. It was just before 12:55 p.m. and the heat of
the day was at its height.

Robert Levine was already sitting in his bloodred Ferrari Enzo talking on the
phone. The new sports car was just one of his many high-end automobiles. His
Ferrari vanity plate read 24KGOLD, which was appropriate, being that he made a
ton as the owner of a chain of very successful jewelry stores. His other cars
had 14KGOLD and 18KGOLD on their plates.

He waved and smiled as Miki pulled up next to him, then he disconnected his
call, stepping out in a hurry.

He opened her door before she could even prepare to exit and stood with the
bright sun shining upon the top of his salt-and-pepper head. Miki took his hand
as she exited, coming close to his tall, thin, but muscular body and meeting his
puckered lips with a peck. He wore rust dress shoes and brown matching shirt and
slacks.

“You look beautiful,” he said as their faces parted. He eyed her
from head to toe as she stood before him in jeans shorts, a white tank top, and
sage Marc Jacob flip-flops.

“Thanks, Bob.” She adjusted her Louis Vuitton tote over her
shoulder. One that he’d given her.

Robert peeked into the backseat. “You need help getting T.J.
out?”

Miki opened the back door and reached in as she spoke. “No, thanks.
I’ve got him.” She unstrapped him and he slowly stepped out. He wore
shorts and a Batman T-shirt, and looked as if he was two seconds from falling
asleep.

Robert extended his hand. “Hey big man. How are you?” He closed
both the driver’s side and back doors.

“Good.” T.J. gave a weak shake and fidgeted with his digital
SpongeBob watch, like he really needed to know the time.

“Are you hungry?” Robert placed his hand on T.J.’s back,
and they stepped away from the car while Miki set the alarm.

“Yes,” T.J. said, looking up at the big red sign. He began to
show a smile.

Robert said, rubbing his own flat tummy, “Good. So am I.”

They proceeded inside and were escorted to an outside table, where they sat
in dark green plastic chairs under an umbrella.

Both Miki and Robert removed their sunglasses and looked over the brief menu.
He wore his wedding band proudly as usual.

Robert was nearly twice Miki’s age, as he was in his sixties. His face
showed that his skin hadn’t aged well. He had deep lines around his icy
blue eyes and his mouth, his cheeks had lost their firmness, and his neck was
wrinkled, all mainly from too much sun. He was a true outdoorsman. But he had a
trim and firm body. He’d always worked out from the time he was a baseball
player in college. Robert was also an avid swimmer and mountain climber. And he
cycled ten miles every other day no matter what the weather, no matter what city
he was in.

Today, the skin on his angular face, neck, and arms was extra golden brown.
As usual, he wore a twenty-four-karat gold-and-diamond-encrusted Star of David
charm, which hung just above the few graying chest hairs that sprouted from
between his tanned pectorals.

Miki noticed as she closed the menu. “Your skin looks good. Very
golden.”

“Thanks. You know I bought my own tanning bed, right?”

“No, I didn’t.”

He looked proud of himself. “Oh, I didn’t tell you? Yeah. Just a
few months ago.”

“Looks natural. Like you’ve been in the sun.” Robert smiled
wide and Miki added, “And you look happy.”

Robert closed his menu and smiled at T.J., who sat forward, coloring with the
four crayons he was given. “I’m okay.” He looked at Miki and
continued at a lower notch: “Things could be better. You know. Just still
dealing with caring for Rose.” He blinked fast as he talked, speaking as
though love and the word
Rose
were one. “My wife’s
Alzheimer’s is so bad now that she’s bedridden. She can barely talk
and she’s on a feeding tube. It’s just hard to see her like this.
And my daughter is not dealing with it well at all.”

Miki placed the napkin on her lap. “Wow.” As the waitress
approached, Miki asked her son, “T.J., do you want lemonade?”

“Yes please,” he said without looking up.

Robert did the honors. “One lemonade, please. And two killer shrimp and
pasta, and one with what, rice, right, T.J.?”

T.J. replied, shuffling his feet under the table while still coloring.
“No, just bread, please.”

Robert said to the waitress, “Okay, make that one killer shrimp with
bread. And two waters.”

She took their menus and said with a smile, “Coming right
up.”

Robert reached in his shirt pocket, pulled out a thick, folded envelope, and
handed it to Miki. “By the way, this is for you. I’ll have the rest
soon.”

“Okay, thanks.” She smiled and nodded, reaching over to the empty
chair where she’d placed her tote. She put the envelope inside.

Robert continued, leaning his forearms along the glass table. “Yeah, so
my wife is gonna need a twenty-four-hour nurse. It’s getting harder for my
daughter and me to manage. Taking turns just isn’t working.”

Miki’s eyes were plain. She leaned in closer to him. “Bob, I can
only imagine how it must be. But do you mind? I just can’t. I mean,
I’d rather not.”

“Oh, okay, sorry. I know.”

She went on to say, “It’s just that it makes it too personal, and
well, especially with T.J. here, I mean, I know you’ve met him before and
all, and well, I just want to keep it casual and, I guess the less I know, the
better.”

He shook his head. “No, really, no problem. Just wanted you to know
what’s going on. Why it’s changed the amount of time that I’m
free. You know. Just friend talk.”

Miki kept her eyes on Robert’s face. “I know. We
are
friends, but not really like that. It’s complicated, Bob. I think
I’ve been able to keep things simple all these years by not knowing. And,
well, I’d just rather keep it that way.”

“No problem. It won’t happen again.” He shifted his focus
to T.J. “So, how’s school been?”

“Okay.”

“Which do you like best? Spelling? Art? Math?”

T.J. turned a page in the coloring book and said, “Ummmm, I guess math.
Like my dad. My dad is a banker. He said he works with numbers. I wanna be just
like him when I grow up.”

“Oh, really.” Robert grinned.

Miki smiled.

T.J. said, “Yeah.” He used his left hand to escort his young
words. “And my mom, I mean stepmom, is a banker too. That’s how they
met.”

“I see.”

T.J. looked up at Miki and said, “He still likes my mom,
though.”

Robert’s eyebrows lifted. “Really?”

Miki took over and spoke, just as the waitress approached again. “Ahh,
T.J., the waitress is bringing your lemonade.” The teenage girl carefully
placed the lemonade and water glasses down before them.

Robert told the girl, “Thanks,” as she stepped away.

Miki looked at T.J.’s tall glass of lemonade with ice. “That
looks good. Can I try it?”

“Yeah.” He nodded as he spoke.

Miki’s sip was small and she smacked her lips. “It’s
perfect. Nice and sweet, just the way you like it.”