The Secrets of Silk (27 page)

“Do it again,” Silk whispered, encouraging Bruce with a wicked grin on her face. Bruce's eyes glinted with mischievousness. With Silk's permission, he aimed the water pistol at Sharita.

Sharita was wearing Bermuda shorts and Bruce squirted each of her thick legs, prompting her into an awkward dance that brought out titters of laughter from Silk and the boys.

Pitying Sharita, Dallas kept her eyes lowered and concentrated on eating her Jell-O pudding and fruit cocktail.

“Shoot Sharita in her big ol', wide behind,” Silk suggested maliciously.

“I don't have enough water.” Bruce pressed the trigger, proving to Silk that he could only generate drips and dribbles of water.

“Well, go on over to the sink and fill it up.”

Bruce got up from the table. At the sink, he rudely pushed in front of Sharita.

“Ow!” Sharita exclaimed when Bruce stepped on her Keds while in the process of maneuvering the water spigot toward his toy. “Excuse you,” Sharita said indignantly.

“Sharita, watch your mouth. I don't want you speaking to the children using that tone of voice. I won't stand for it,” Silk admonished.

“Bruce stepped on my foot, and he's trying to get water so he can keep squirting me with his water gun, Miss Silk,” Sharita complained.

“He's only having fun, Sharita. A little bit of water can't hurt you. Stop being such a big baby. And remember, no one likes a tattletale.”

“Yes, ma'am,” Sharita mumbled and continued scrubbing pots and pans with her lips poked out in displeasure. Every so often, she'd flinch when a shot of water hit her on the neck or the arm.

Not wanting to be left out of the fun, Myron asked, “M'dear, can I be excused from the table to go get my water pistol? I wanna shoot Sharita, too.”

“Go ahead and get it, but fill it up with water from the bathroom
sink. I can't allow you boys to keep getting water from the kitchen spigot and interrupting Sharita while she's trying to get through her chores.”

After getting water from the upstairs bathroom, Myron returned to the kitchen with mischief gleaming in his eyes.

Silk pointed to Sharita's broad backside and whispered, “Shoot her where I told you to.”

Side-by-side, the boys stood a few feet behind Sharita. They aimed and fired until their guns were empty and the back of Sharita's Bermuda shorts were drenched.

“Looks like she peed on herself,” Myron remarked derisively.

“She probably needs to wear a diaper and rubber pants, doesn't she, M'dear?” Bruce exclaimed, cutting an eye at Silk.

“A normal-size diaper wouldn't fit Sharita's big ol' butt. We'd have to find her some jumbo diapers,” Silk said, giving Bruce a wink as she affectionately rustled his hair. She'd stopped forcing Bruce to wear diapers a long time ago, but she could tell that he was eager to inflict upon Sharita the same embarrassing and cruel punishment that he'd endured.

“I ain't pee myself, and I don't need to wear diapers,” Sharita said in protest.

“You probably pee the bed every night,” Myron added spitefully.

“Now, now, boys. That's enough. Stop teasing Sharita. She can't help it if she's a big-behind oaf.”

The boys broke into giggles at Silk's scornful words. Meanwhile, Dallas cast a sympathetic glance in Sharita's direction.

Realizing that she'd finally found a way to bond with her stepsons, Silk gazed at Bruce and Myron with fondness.

Her eyes cloudy with tears, Sharita approached the table and began clearing away the dessert dishes.

“Come on, kids. Let's go out on the back porch and catch a breeze while Sharita finishes cleaning the kitchen.”

As they exited the kitchen, Dallas reached for Silk's hand, and her two brothers who normally tried to stay as far away from Silk as possible, were jockeying for position, each trying to grab a hold of their young and playful stepmother's free hand.

Sitting on the glider next to Silk, Dallas played paddle ball. Hitting the wooden paddle with the rubber ball that was attached by an elastic string, Dallas counted aloud each time she successfully struck the ball.

“Be quiet,” Silk hissed and yanked the toy from Dallas' hand. “I can't think straight with you hitting on that thing right next to my ear. Go play with it down in the yard.”

Out of pure orneriness, Silk tossed the paddle ball out into the yard.

“Are you mad at me, M'dear?” Dallas asked with her bottom lip trembling. She wasn't accustomed to being on Silk's bad side.

“Damn right, I'm mad at you. The next time I sic your brothers on Sharita, you better not act like little Goody Miss Two Shoes. I expect you to join in on the fun.”

“Okay,” Dallas reluctantly agreed, her face contorted by a frown.

B
uddy worked six days a week and put in long hours of overtime to keep his family comfortable, and on Saturday night and most of the day on Sunday, he expected to be rewarded for his generosity. Buddy wasn't nearly as good a lover as Tate was, but he sure had stamina. Too much stamina for Silk's taste. As he pounded into her body for the fourth time Saturday night, she squeezed her eyes shut, pretending that Tate was on top of her. But her little game of pretense wasn't working. Tate had finesse and was a gentle lover. He used the soft touch of his hands and the honeyed sweetness of his kiss to get her riled up and in the mood.

Silk supposed that putting up with Buddy's brutishness in bed was the price she had to pay for her shiny Cadillac, her fashionable wardrobe, and the comforts of her lovely home. But she wasn't sure how much longer she could suffer through Buddy's bad love-making when she yearned to be lying in bed next to Tate.

But Tate was a mystery. He had sets of keys to six or seven different places, yet none was his home. He claimed to have a bachelor pad in Philadelphia but hardly ever went there due to the amount of business he had to conduct in Chester. Silk suspected there was more to Tate's story, but she kept her suspicions to herself. Over time she'd come to learn that Tate had a quick temper, and common sense told her it was unwise to nag him with her doubts.

Somewhere along the line she'd slipped up and fallen in love with Tate. Unfortunately, being a married woman with responsibilities, she couldn't keep tabs on her lover man the way she wanted to.

Though her mind was a million miles away, Silk's arms were secured around Buddy's waist as he grunted and powerfully thrust into her. “Your dick is so good,” she said mechanically as she wondered what Tate was up to tonight.

“You like the way I'm giving it to you?”

“You know I do. I can't get enough of you, Daddy.”

Buddy groaned with pleasure. He loved it when Silk called him, Daddy.

Pleased with herself, Silk smiled and then returned to her thoughts.
Is Tate secretly married? He had better not be shacking up with some floozy.
Being a fast-living, numbers runner, Tate had plenty of women in his life, but the idea that there might be a special one—a woman who had papers on him or even a special place in his heart—caused Silk's blood to boil. Tate had her nose wide open, and she was liable to claw a bitch's eyes out and slash both sides of her face if she ever caught Tate messing around behind her back.

Remembering that Buddy was on top of her, ramming his dick in and out of her, Silk half-heartedly participated in the fuck-session by crying out, “Give it to me, Daddy!”

“Ahh! Oh, shit! Oooo.” Buddy gasped, dropping yet another deposit inside her body. “Whew! You really whipped it on me!” Winded, he collapsed on his back, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

“Don't tell me you're plum-tuckered out, already?” Silk teased, while secretly hoping her words were true. She couldn't take another round of Buddy lying on top of her, sweating profusely and pumping away.

“No, I'm trying to catch my breath, and then I'm gonna put some more good loving on you.”

Silk ran her hand across his damp forehead. “I want you to rest up. You've been working so hard on your job, it's not fair for you to have to come home and put in more work.”

“I gotta make sure my pretty wife is happy. Besides, this ain't work; this is pleasure.” Buddy smiled at Silk and ran his fingers through her hair. “Despite all the sorrow I've been through in the past few months, one look in your eyes lets me know that I should count my blessings. I love you, Mrs. Dixon, and I'm well aware that I'm the luckiest man in the world.”

“Aw, I love you, too, Buddy. Now, listen,” she said sternly. “I want you to lie back and relax. It's my turn to make you feel good.” Silk slithered over to Buddy, licking her lips, and letting him know what she had in store for him.

Preparing for the unbearably delicious pleasure he was about to receive, Buddy grimaced and grit his teeth as Silk buried her face in his groin, peppering his flaccid flesh with soft kisses that would bring his dick back to life. She licked the head, causing Buddy to gyrate and whine, and when she pulled his dick inside her warm mouth, in a matter of seconds, it began to swell up and inflate like a balloon.

Silk detested having to suck Buddy's poontang-flavored dick, but if she expected him to sleep through the night, then she had no choice but to try her best to put him in a coma by giving him the best blowjob she'd ever given.

She whipped it on her husband. Sucked the cum out of him and had him curling his toes up and calling on the Lord. Afterward, she lay cuddled next to him, stroking the hair on his chest until he began to snore like a bear. On cue, Silk slipped out of the bedroom and hurried to the bathroom down the hall, where she took a quick whore's bath.

Back in the bedroom, she kept an eye on Buddy as she tiptoed
around, getting dressed in the dark. Getting fucked badly by her husband caused her to hunger for Tate's wonderfully rhythmic dick strokes. Silk fled down the flight of stairs. Tate was no doubt having drinks and handling his business at the Flower Hill, and she had to get to her man before the place closed up for the night.

“Damn!” she spat when she realized Buddy's car was blocking her Caddy in the driveway. Oh, well, she'd have to hoof-it on down to the bar. The Flower Hill was only a hop, skip, and a jump away, but walking on a gravelly road in high-heels required her to put on a hell of a balancing act.
Love sure makes me do foolish things!

Her eyes lit up and her heart fluttered in excitement when she spotted Tate's car. With a wobbly walk, she did her best to hurry across the parking lot that was uneven and dented with potholes.

She'd never been inside the Flower Hill on a Saturday night. With Buddy working only a single shift on Saturdays, she wasn't able to get out of the house on Saturday evenings. Silk was delightfully surprised at how crowded the place was. It was packed to the rafters. Colored folks were wall-to-wall, standing around drinking while shooting the breeze, whooping and hollering, and having a good ol' time.

She recognized some folks, but most she didn't. She anxiously scanned the crowd but didn't see Tate's handsome face anywhere.

Wally wasn't working, and she didn't recognize the guy working behind the bar. As she made her approach, she heard low whistles and a male voice murmur, “Who's that fox?”

Another man responded, “I don't know who she is, but she looks good enough to eat. Yessiree, I could sop her up with a biscuit.” The remark was followed by a chorus of laughter.

Hearing men express appreciation for her good looks wasn't anything new to Silk, and their admiration had little meaning since the praise wasn't coming from Tate's mouth.

Giving her male admirers an eyeful, Silk put an extra wiggle in her walk as she sashayed up to the bar. “Scotch and soda,” she said to the bartender.

The bartender gave her a long look. “You've never been in here before, have you?”

“Yeah, I've been in here quite a few times.”

“That's strange.”

“What's strange about it?”

“The fact that I would forget laying eyes on a stone fox like you,” he said flirtatiously.

Silk chuckled. “I usually come in during the day when Wally's behind the bar. That's when I put in my number with Tate. Say, have you seen Tate around?”

“Are you talking about Sweet Daddy?”

“Yeah.” Anxious to see her lover man, Silk's heart rate sped up.

“He came through earlier tonight, but he left with Arvetta.”

“Arvetta?” Silk struggled to keep her voice steady. She'd heard that name before but couldn't remember what she'd heard about the woman. Merely hearing another woman's name associated with Tate's had Silk seeing red. It was a damn shame that she'd left home in a hurry and had forgotten to tuck her switchblade inside her brassiere.

“Arvetta is in apartment number two, over top of the bar. But, listen, you don't have to track down Sweet Daddy.” He slid a piece of paper and a pencil in front of Silk. “I work for Sweet Daddy. You can play your number with me.” The bartender placed the drink in front of Silk and she guzzled it down quickly. “No, thanks. I like to play my numbers with Tate, personally. Arvetta's in number two, right?”