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“Don’t you ever fucking do that again.” I turned heading for the bedroom door, switching my ass to show him what he’d never get again.

Something compelled me to turn around, to see what state he was in. It was evident that all Chino could feel was pain inside as he sluggishly lowered his head. I didn’t know if it was the liquor talking or what, but I was unable to feel any kind of remorse for him. He was weak and pathetic. He needed to be brought out of his confidence that he could fix me or our marriage. He thought he had done a good deed, trying to bring me out of my minor coma with some fire head.

But, all he had done was made everything worse. I wasn’t feeling anything inside. When my flesh and blood died, my heart died with her. I could tell that my words left him frost bitten with a bleeding heart on the bedroom room floor. But, even if tears tried to form in his eyes, he would refuse to let them fall. His pride wouldn’t allow him to. Maybe if he were less resilient to his sorrow, I would have pity on him. But the only thing that resonated in my soul for him was hate.

Starla ~ One Year Later.

Our French Colonial designed kitchen had the aroma of freshly made coffee brewing. It hit me as I rounded the corner making my mouth water, yearning for a cup. My Giuseppe heels clicked on the tapered French limestone floor, as I sauntered over to the sink to get a quick cup before I headed out. He was already at the table, eating his bagel and drinking coffee as predictable as any other day. I hated his face.

Every time I laid eyes on him, I wished for my eyes to turn into lasers and beam burnt crispy holes right through his heart. It would prove to be quick and surely send him to an early death. Everyday we were together only reminded me of what we were missing. The touch we longed for, the playful laugh, the sweet delicate skin of my Kenya were all gone. Banished for eternity.

My skintight dark grey power pantsuit looked as if it were painted on me. Yet, he kept his head buried in his Wall Street Journal. I smirked, rotating my eyes. He could pretend not to catch a glimpse at how good I looked all he wanted. He and I both knew he desired my sexiness to be rubbed all over him. It was cool though. I did not need his verification. Plenty of men did that for me just sashaying up and down the street. But, the more I ignored him the more he returned the favor.

We were over but neither one of us were brave enough to say it yet. It began with speaking less than a few words to each other, subsequently that resulted to mumbles and grumbles, and now it boiled down to simply looks and stares. If it were not for the fact that we could still see and hear each other’s movements, we would not even know the other was in the house. But, ever since I kicked him in his face a year ago, we strolled around this house like roommates. Talking was not an option, since the only thing I wanted to talk about was a divorce and the only thing he wanted to talk about was fucking. They were unspoken issues.

My body fat percentage was twenty percent. I weighed the same thing I did in high school, one hundred and forty five pounds. Not an athlete but just as fit. My hair stayed laid in the silkiest of long dark brown weaves set in ocean curls. It could’ve been mistaken for the color of night, with a length resting just above my tight heart shaped little ass. My makeup stayed flawless like I stepped off of a celebrity photo shoot daily. I had deep brown eyes that could stop hearts; lips so full they could haunt your wildest sexual fantasies, and a set of tits that made even little boys salivate.

My skin was as smooth as satin. I kept its bright golden-brown complexion oiled and hairless, especially my touchable long stem legs. They gave me the modelesque height of a staggering five foot nine. In my opinion, no other bitch could top my impeccable beauty. My confidence would never be broken. Looking at him in his fitted Armani black business suit, I gathered his wouldn’t either. I hated his virtuous face.

Look at him sitting there with his low well-tapered jet-black hair cut. His green eyes were so bright and colorful the trees envied him. They were so dreamy, emitting sex every time he stared at me. His lips were thin and resembled that of a porcelain doll. He was Caucasian, but liked to tan to add a deep glow to his already lightly bronzed skin. His arms, legs, and chest only adorned very minimal fine hair, which complimented his six-foot physique.

He stayed fit. All of his old pictures showed him, the star athlete playing basketball, football and soccer. But, he hated to go to the gym. Something about them pissed him off. Maybe it was the fact that everyone there eyed whoever was around, sizing him or her up as they worked out. Whatever it was, he did not need it anyway. All he ever did was eat right and bang out a few push-ups every now and then.

With little effort, his body stayed looking like that of a sixteen-year-old stallion. His tailored made business suits filled his physique impeccably, and his expensive taste in clothes left the females with wet panties every time they laid eyes on him. He was the type of man that would go to ends of the earth for a friend in need. A good heart through and through. I used to be that way, in unison with him. But, lately I didn’t know who I was anymore.

We drove well; lived even better in our two story, five bedroom three bathroom single brick family home. It was supposed to be full of life by now, with the pitter-patter of little feet and beautiful flowers all around. But, instead it was a five thousand square foot designer decorated frozen shell. Though beautiful, quiet, and in a great little cul de sac, it was still in the middle of wealthy suburbia hell, Schaumburg, IL. My eyes followed the lines on the wooden table up to his face while he continued to stare down into his favorite newspaper.

I slid into the seat directly across from him, my mug in tow. It seemed like our house being dead and silent did not bother him at all. He was impassive, a trait that I loathed about him. I wished I could walk through life and not let the death of my own flesh and blood bother me either. Life was not that simple for me. However, nothing seemed to worry Chino on that level.

I was sure he felt like he was the finest man in the whole law office. If not he definitely thought he was the most qualified. His daddy was a partner at the firm but Chino, only having been at Pumpkin and Strode for six years, needed to work his way up the ladder just like everybody else. He had been passed up for partner so many times it almost made his head spin. It was one of the most prestigious law offices in the entire Chicago land area.

Getting a top dollar spot was not the easiest thing to do. Besides, his daddy never cut him any slack. Chino’s blue blood background was not enough to dick his way to the top like most spoiled rich kids. Nope, his daddy made his only child work from the ground up; said it built integrity. Pleasing his daddy weighed heavily on his mind daily. He never showed weakness though. Lawyers who did that never made judge, so his daddy drilled into his head.

He was also the youngest in his firm at only thirty-three. So, when I brought my fresh twenty three year old ass up in there five years ago to be his temp, all of the washed up old office sluts were eyeing me down like a hawk. They knew this little middle class black girl from the South Side of Chicago was about to invade on their soil. Nonetheless, I was ready to battle on enemy territory to get what I wanted.

I may not have been as college educated as they were but my mouthpiece was the business that no man could resist. Charm flew out of my mouth when I spoke, hypnotizing them, pulling them in closer. They were always intrigued to know more about me, in a peel back the layers of my onion sort of way. But, none had ever came as close as Chino did. I fell in love almost as instantly as he did. We were married in six months and still work together to this day. Something I was discreetly working on changing very soon, as discreetly as I was a divorce.

“Alright, I’m off.” Chino rose from the table, chucking his cup and saucer in the sink, before leaning in to give me a sensual forehead peck.

“Ugh, whatever.” The disgust was written all over my face plain as day.

However, he strolled on like he was having a happy, normal, peaceful day. His face was blank as he picked up his briefcase and bounced to the door. It pissed me off to my core, boiling my blood. But, I had something that always turned my frown in to a smile. I had something that I only played with when the cat was away. It was a toy that made my stomach flutter and my glands sweaty from the thought of it. I had Brian Jackson, a dark chocolate football player built Mandingo that ate my pussy for what felt like weeks at a time. His tongue vibrated against my clit like none that I had ever experienced. Yeah, Chino was good but Brian was damn good. Thinking about it gave me chills and when he laid his pipe, he did so as if he was the world’s greatest.

I met Brian eight months ago when I decided to go to The Glass House, a quaint little bar in Englewood. Occasionally, I’d go by myself to get away from Chino’s needy ass. I would only get a few drinks then bounce to clear my thoughts in silence. On that day, Brian was sitting at the end of the bar chatting it up with his boys and some hood rat groupies that flocked to them. They were trying to get the men to buy them more drinks. But, as hot as they were dressed, they weren’t looking for some sideline trash to take home.

Once our eyes locked, he was mine. He moved closer to me as I pretended not to care. He stood so close to me that it was hard to ignore the sweet scent of cognac on his breath. It took mine away. There were no words spoken. His finger directed my chin to his lips, nestling his with mine. It wasn’t long before he showed me the back seat of his 2012 jet-black Cadillac Escalade. He opened up the moon roof and the rest was history. The air blew in so cold that my ass nearly froze off. My nipples were so hard when I released them from my bra as the rest of me shivered wildly. Brian made sure to quickly heat me up with the warmth of his tongue and the shelter of his mouth.

“Hey baby.” Licking my lips moist from the very thought of his well-muscled body pressed against mine, placing my Galaxy S2 on speaker.

“Sup girl. What you on?” Brian’s voice was as deep as Barry White’s but smooth enough to have his own distinction.

“Nothing. Thinking about not going to work today. I’d rather come play with you instead.”

“What? You missing work? Now you trippin’ girl. What’s your man gonna say about that? Didn’t you say y’all work together?”

“Brian, you let me worry about that shit. I got this all under control and that whack ass fool wrapped right around my middle finger. Besides, I told you I was trying to get a divorce anyway. I can always find another job.” I rose, placing my cup in the sink, before heading for the living room and flopping down on the couch.

“Your ass is crazy. Well, I gotta work today myself.”

“Work? Fool, you own a string of successful barbershops all over the city. You’re your own boss. Don’t play with me, Brian.”

“I ain’t playin’ with you. How do you think those shops stay open and successful? Somebody’s gotta run around and make sure business is business as usual. I don’t slack on my pimpin’ when it comes to my money baby. Money will always trump pussy any day of the week.” His words were stern but I felt what he spat.

His cockiness was sexy even when he was overcompensating for confidence. It was the first time he had ever told me no or turned me down. Even though I could respect his reasoning, it seemed weird to me that he was doing it. The thoughts in my mind quickly shifted to him giving his time and effort towards someone else’s pussy. The competitive side of me wanted to reach through the phone. I wanted to demand that he tell me whom the bitch was that was taking his time from me. Instead I remained poised acting as if nothing was wrong. Men were one tracked minded and if they thought a woman was too clingy they would drop them in a millisecond. I couldn’t risk losing my fixation. He was mine and I’d be damned if I let another bitch have him.

“Hmm. I guess. So are you going to play with me tonight or what?” My voice flowed as sweetly as poured honey.

“Yeah, I might bite that thang later. Make sure that pussy’s bare for me. I don’t want see no hair on that motherfucka. Ya heard me?”

“There’s no hair on it now. I shaved it proper just for you last night, baby.”

“Oh, word? Last night huh? You giving my pussy away to that fun boy you call your husband?” He sounded as if his face frowned over with anger.

“Never, Brian. Never.”

“Hmm. Maybe I’ll have to make you slide through so I can teach that pussy a lesson it’ll never forget.”

When he said that, I knew it only meant one thing. He was craving to pound my pussy until the cows came home, dry with no lubrication. He was a master at beating it up and leaving me sore for a week, maybe longer. That was his punishment for me when I wasn’t a good bitch for him. Our age difference played a factor in the way he treated me too. He was twenty years older than me at forty-eight years old. Because of that he acted as if I was just another broad who was young, dumb, and full of cum.

Of course I was two of those things, but dumb was never the case. I only played the role for him because he liked submissive women and the sex was the bomb. And when he held me, ran his fingers from my neck to my navel, and kissed me like it was our first time, I fell into a deep trance. One that I never wanted to awaken from. He was my drug, a fix that I needed on a regular basis. That basis would become more regular once I got Chino to sign those papers. I didn’t even need his money. Fuck him. Brian was more than well off and would surely take care of me while I looked for another job.

“Ooo, baby please don’t. I promise I’ve been good. I promise.”

“Don’t beg. If I’m gon’ beat that pussy up then I’m gon’ beat that pussy up and ain’t a damn thing you can say or do about it,” when he spoke, I listened and loved it. “You understand?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, Daddy Long Dick.”

“That’s better. Matter of fact, meet me at the usual spot in twenty minutes. I think I need to make time to straighten that ass out a bit.”