Fly on the Wall (21 page)

“You're insane.” I had calmed down considerably. “Why did you pick up my phone?”

At one point, months ago, I thought of telling Will about Paige and me, but he was truly not mature enough to handle a secret of this magnitude. Thank God I trusted my instincts.

“Damn, I thought that thing you had for Oprah was just a phase.” He continued. “You really do like 'em old, huh?”

“She's not
old
.” I defended her. “She's thirty-two. She'll be thirty-three next month.”

“She got kids?”

I answered, “No.”

“Thank God.” He was relieved. “Yo, how is the dungeon?”

“It's all good.” I couldn't discuss her in this manner. It left me feeling wrong. “You heard that new OutKast album?”

“Yeah, I don't like it.” He laughed. “It sounds like a crack head mixed it.”

I overdid my laugh just to keep the conversation away from Paige, but he remembered.

“So, how is the dungeon?”

“Man, c'mon, I said it was good.”

“Is it tight? Fat? Wet?”

Giving him details in the past about other girls was no problem, but this time was different. “Man, I can't talk about her like that.”

“What the—?” He scoped me up and down. “You?”

“What?”

“Damn,” he joked. “I see scars on your back, Kunta Kinte.”

“What?”

“You whooped like a mutha, boy.” He laughed. “You need some peroxide?”

“Shut up.”

“I'm serious.” He went on with his logic. “Whenever a man can't talk about the pussy, that means he's headlock in that bitch and whooped like a muthafucka.”

“Whatever.” The room fell silent and he returned to the computer and began typing away. I started getting dressed, and five minutes later Will shouted, “I gotta take a picture of this.”

“What.” I looked around the room. “What?”

“Your whooped ass.”

He loved to keep shit going.

 

 

Before we all left the house, I gave Kevin ten dollars and told him that the money was for him to stick to the plan. The arrangement was for me to pick him up late that night from Will's, but Mom couldn't know that we hadn't been together all night. He told me that ten dollars was for his dinner, and for five dollars more he'd keep the secret.

By a quarter to eight, the aroma from the ribs and shrimp dinners I picked up from Tony Romas, had the whole car smelling like something to eat. Surprisingly, as I pulled up to the house, the garage door wasn't open like she told Will it would be. However, as I approached, it slid up slowly, and when I was all the way in, it glided back down. I turned the car off and looked around. Suddenly, the door leading to the house from the garage opened. Out walked Paige with two jarred candles in jeans and a pale yellow T-shirt.

“This woman loves candles,” I whispered to myself.

“Hey.” She rested one of the candles on a workbench and the other atop an old TV stand. “Don't get out.”

“Huh?”

“Stay in the car and turn on some music.”

“What do you wanna hear?”

She walked over to the driver's side window. “Something a little slow but with a funky beat.”

I flipped through the stations in search of just that, and found Aaliyah's “Rock the Boat.” “Is this good?” I looked over and she was gone. Paige was climbing up the hood of my car.

“What are you doing?” I asked then silently thanked God that she wasn't wearing shoes. The Mazda was precious cargo for right now.

She stood to her feet, still on my hood, and started dancing. She had moves in her that I didn't know about. Normally when I heard this song, I wondered exactly who Aaliyah was singing to, Damon Dash or R. Kelly, but who cared about that now? From this point on, this was Paige's anthem.

Right before the chorus, she slowly pulled her T-shirt over her head. She was wearing a burgundy lace bra that partially revealed her nipples.
Rock the boat, rock the boat, rock the boat, rock the boat.
While she did some Jamaican-style boggling, she unbuttoned her pants.
Work the middle, work the middle, work the middle, work the middle.
She slid one hand down her jeans and into her panties and started rubbing. She was working the middle, but I wanted to rock that boat.
Change positions, new positions, new positions, new positions.
She turned her back to me and was shaking her booty like it was possessed.

Stroke it for me, stroke it for me, stroke it for me, stroke it for me.
Aaliyah didn't have to tell me four times. Still behind the wheel, I unzipped my pants and pulled them to my knees, and out popped the rookie of the year. It was oak tree hard. I watched her peel off her pants and almost blew the horn with my dick when I saw that thin piece of burgundy satin disappear between her ass cheeks.

She turned around and saw me behind the wheel stroking myself and smiled. She licked her lips and removed her bra. It was like the song never made this much sense to me before. Paige stared me in the face while removing her bra. “Fuck.” Whenever I saw her pierced nipples I lost control. She pressed her breasts up against the windshield and it was the sexiest thing I had ever seen. Still on her knees, she leaned back from the glass and tugged on the front of her thong until the bottom section of the front vanished into the crease of her fat, wet, brown lips, then her little button plopped out.

“Fuck this,” I said and reached for the door handle and got out of the car. “Come here,” I said to her as I kicked off my pants. She crawled over to the edge of the hood. I didn't want head, I didn't want to eat pussy, kiss, hug, or none of that foreplay bullshit. I simply wanted to rock her boat like she had been begging me to. I wanted to bruise, batter, and split her ship into pieces like it was at sea during a category five hurricane.

“Lay down,” I said as I walked toward her on the hood, wanting to waste no time. “Put your legs on my shoulders.” Before she could get her feet up, I was snuggled within her folds. “Damn.” The lusty smell we made mixed with the ribs and shrimp still in the backseat made me want to eat her from the outside in, all the way to her sweet spot. “What the fuck are you doing to me?” I was talking some real serious shit, and though it scared me, I said, “I'll never, ever leave you.” I meant every word of it.

My lightning rod was packed full of electricity, so I forced myself out from her sunny patch of sky. Right as I did, the thundercloud burst and the rain came falling down. I was in the midst of the storm without a raincoat, so milky white raindrops formed little creamy puddles on the hood of my car, and I could give a damn about the paint job.

“I
'm hungry as hell,” I said to Toni after she sent the waitress away a third time, stating that she needed more time to scan the menu. “This is Applebee's, not the freakin' Melting Pot.”

“I'm sorry,” Toni said. “I just can't think straight.”

“Well, just get chicken.” I was starving. “You can never go wrong with chicken.”

She looked over at me. “What are you having?”

“The grilled tilapia,” I had made up my mind twenty minutes ago, “with steamed vegetables.”

“Then why are you telling me to get chicken if you're having fish?”

“Toni, just get something,” I complained.

“Fine.” She sighed. “I'll get the honey chicken breast.”

This wasn't
Who Wants to be a Millionaire?
so I wasn't asking if that was her final answer. I waved the waitress over and told her what we wanted. When our drinks arrived, I sipped my Appletini while looking out of the window, and witnessed two cars almost collide head-on. Toni, looking out of the same window, didn't even flinch.

“Are you all right?” I asked.

“Yeah.” It was a lie.

“You can't think that I believe that.” I continued by asking, “What's on your mind?”

“What's not on my mind?” She shifted uncomfortably and avoided eye contact of any kind.

“What's going on?”

“Everything,” she hissed. “Everything is happening and happening so quickly that I feel like I'm going crazy.”

I wasn't psychic. “I can't read minds. Talk to me.”

When she looked up and allowed me to see her eyes, I saw a new type of damage that had been done since the last time I had seen her. “Okay, but Paige, please don't judge me.” Toni took a deep breath and said, “We did it.”

“Did what?” I asked. “Who did what?”

“Marcus and I,” she paused, “we experimented with another couple.”

“What?” I exclaimed loudly enough that the family at another table sneered at me. “Are you serious?”

“Yes.” She seemed embarrassed.

“When?”

“A few nights ago.”

“Who?” I asked. “Who are these people?”

“Tara and Jamal,” she said. “You don't know them. Jamal is one of Marcus' frat brothers. He lives in D.C. They were here in Miami for a night after a week in Jamaica.”

“How did it happen, though?” I was confused. “I thought you were at least going to wait until Cancun. I thought you didn't even want to.”

“I didn't.” She grimaced. “It's a long story.”

“When have we ever received our food without having at least two drinks?” I didn't wait for a response. “We have time for a long story.”

 

 

By the time my last piece of broccoli was chewed, I knew everything there was to know and even what I didn't want to know. Tara and Jamal Reeves were married just two years. Tara, an ex-model, was now a well-known events planner, and Jamal owned a popular D.C. area landscaping company. With over thirty-five employees, Jamal hadn't touched a lawnmower in seven years.

Mr. and Mrs. Reeves phoned Toni and Marcus from Negril, Jamaica two nights prior to the “hookup,” stating that they would be in Miami for a night and wanted to meet for dinner. Marcus and Toni accepted and agreed to meet at a South Beach restaurant. Toni was attracted to Jamal, and from the way she described him, any woman would be. Standing at six foot two and 180 pounds, Jamal was dark brown, and because he ran track in high school and college, his legs were still stacked like a stallion.

They met around nine, and like most South Beach restaurants, the place was set to candlelight, and a live band was there for entertainment. Patrons normally just hopped up and danced right at their tables or wherever the rhythm hit them. When Tara excused herself to the ladies' room and the band began playing a fast-paced Latin beat, Jamal jumped up.

“Can I borrow your wife?” he asked Marcus.

“Sure,” Marcus answered jovially. “I'll borrow yours when she comes back.”

Jamal pulled Toni to her feet and accompanied her to the dance floor. Once there, his hands fell right above her buttocks, and with every beat of the Latino drum, his hands tightened. His friendly eyes started out on hers, but quickly traveled down her body and grew hungry as he admired her breasts. Jamal watched her waistline gyrate, jerk, and shake without missing a beat. When the song was near climax, he was licking and biting his lips and pulled her close enough to feel that he was fully aroused.

“Whoa.” She backed away from him when the next song began.

“What?” He smiled.

“I didn't know that you brought all of that up here with you.” Toni regretted saying it just as fast as it came out.

“I didn't bring it with me.” Jamal pulled her to him again. “You gave it to me. Just like the first time we danced.”

A tad flattered, she didn't back away. Instead, she softly bumped him over and over again with her thigh as they danced. He whispered in her ear, “That feels good.” Toni even went as far as to turn around and brush against his equipment with her ass. “That's it, girl.” After more of what seemed to others as innocent dancing and touching, Jamal turned her around to face him.

“Does Marcus go down on you?”

“What?” Toni thought for sure the alcohol and loud music was playing games with her hearing. “What did you say?”

“Does he eat your pussy?” Jamal had no shame. “While we were in college, he swore that he'd never, ever do that.”

Toni didn't know how to answer. “Don't you think that that's something he would've told you if he wanted you to know?”

“I guess that's a yes.” He smiled. “Well, is he any good at it?”

She was even more astonished. “Jamal!”

“Sorry.” He pulled her closer then mumbled, “I know why he hasn't told me.”

Toni struggled to keep up with the beat. “Why?”

“Because I might fantasize about licking the sugar off of that sweet pussy too.” The bass in his voice shot straight to the inner folds of her thighs and she trembled. He continued. “I saw you in that club first, and you saw me too. You gave both of us lap dances in that back room, but you allowed me to touch you.”

“That was a long time ago, Jamal.” Toni lost the beat and stood like a totem pole in the midst of the party.

“Why was that, though?” he asked. “You did him first and me two minutes later, but the minute he left the room, you grabbed my hands and put them on your breasts. You rubbed my dick,” he paused, “and you let me finger you.”

“Jamal.” She tried to back away, but he pulled her back. “Right now this is inappropriate. What I did then I did for money, and it was also a long time ago.”

“Okay, fine. I'll chill,” he said, ushering her back into the beat. “Most women would be flattered that her man's friend was checking her out.” He continued. “Just like Tara is by Marcus.” He pointed. “Look at 'em.”

Toni turned to see Marcus and Tara holding each other just a few feet away, dancing in a very provocative embrace. “Excuse me,” Toni said and tried to get out of Jamal's grasp to approach Marcus.

“Come here.” He pulled her back. “We're all just having fun.” Jamal refused to let go, but the song ended, and they all returned to the table.

Toni noticed something slightly different about the taste of her Screwdriver, but put it off on it being watered down by the melting ice. She swallowed it down quickly, and suddenly the music was different. It seemed faster, louder, and snazzier. She swayed back and forth in her seat and underwent a dramatic mood change in just three minutes. She was talking nonstop, ordering two drinks at a time, and was very hands-on with everyone. The amazing smile now plastered on her face couldn't be wiped off with Windex. Her attitude had changed, and everyone loved it.

Tara and Marcus went back to the dance floor, and Jamal made his way around the table to sit next to her. “Did I offend you?”

“When?” Toni fought to remember what was said just an hour ago. “Oh, on the dance floor? Oh, no.”

“Then why did you freeze up like that?” He got closer. “I mean, when we first started dancing, you felt that I was aroused and you didn't back away. So, why did a few memories from the past spook you out?”

She really couldn't think straight. “We shouldn't have been talking like that.”

“Why not?”

“Because I'm married now.” She looked over at him. His lips looked like two Twix sticks, and she wanted to lick the chocolate off of them.

“Fuck all that shit. Don't you think Marcus wants Tara to suck his dick?” he asked. “You don't think I wouldn't want you to do the same to me?” He trailed his hand down the side of her torso.

She looked over at Marcus, who now had one of his hands in Tara's hair, like he was priming her for a kiss. Amazingly, Toni didn't get upset. Actually, it seemed like she couldn't. She was too relaxed, almost unable and impaired.

Jamal went on. “I wanted a taste of your pussy the first night I met you in that strip club, and I told you that.”

“I remember.” Toni smiled shyly.

“I still want it.” Jamal's hand landed on her thigh under the table. “I think about doing it all the time.”

“Really?” She was
now
flattered.

“Yeah.” He slid his hand back and forth. “Would you let me?”

“Gimme a minute to think that over.” She giggled, and then sucked down another funny-tasting Screwdriver. Suddenly, all hell broke loose in her mind. “I . . .” She looked on the dance floor and saw Marcus' hands caressing Tara's butt. Strangely, it turned her on. “I probably would.”

His hand inched up her thigh. “Would you suck my dick?”

“Maybe.” She giggled like a schoolgirl. “Maybe not.” Toni felt her soul drifting away and a more sinister one sneaking in. She couldn't stop it; the transaction was complete.

He asked, “Are you wet?”

“See for yourself.”

In the darkness of their corner booth, Jamal slipped his hand down Toni's pants, moved her thong aside, and inserted his middle finger into her warm and succulent meat. The voyeuristic experience with Marcus so near set her on fire. “
Feeling Hot, Hot, Hot”
was playing, and he penetrated her to the beat.

“You'll let me fuck you, won't you?”

“No,” she teased.

“Yes, you would.” He pushed in deeper. “You wouldn't let me do this if I couldn't hit.” He licked his lips. “I've always wanted this pussy.”

“Then you should've taken it that night.” Her eyes were tempted to roll back, but she contained herself, gyrating slowly instead. “Why didn't you?”

“My plan was to come back the following night, but something came up and I had to fly home the next day instead of on the weekend.” He paused. “Then a few weeks later he tells me that you invited him over to your place for dinner.”

Marcus and Tara returned, so Jamal stopped, but in remembrance of the moment, he kept “the finger” close to his nose as he talked to his wife. Fifteen minutes into their conversation, he whispered something into Tara's ear and then brought his finger to her nose. She sniffed his finger and her face lit up.

“I think we can have so much more fun back at the room,” Tara said with a smile.

At the hotel, Marcus and Jamal had what most men would consider the Superbowl of sex. It started with Tara kissing Marcus, Jamal, and then Toni. However, while kissing Tara, Toni grew increasingly curious about seeing and feeling another woman's breasts, so she unbuttoned Tara's top while the men watched and encouraged them. Toni massaged then teased Tara's nipples with her tongue as though she had walked into the room with experience. It wasn't long before they were rolling around naked on the bed, locked onto each other's lips, with their fingers slipping and sliding deep into one another's creases.

Tara climbed down Toni's body and put Marcus to shame with her tongue. The pleasure was unbelievable. While his wife was handling business, Jamal, now naked, crept onto the bed with a fully erect eight-inch dick and slid it into Toni's mouth so she could suck him. Soon he pushed Tara away to get inside.

Needless to say, they switched, swapped, and sexed each other all night, girl on girl, double penetration, sucking while fucking, the whole nine yards. In fact, they didn't leave the Reeves Hotel room until checkout time the next day. Toni, still in a daze, slept until midnight that night. When she woke up from what she thought was a disgusting dream, her badly aching body revealed that what had happened was reality.

She woke Marcus, and after plenty of questioning, he claimed the evening wasn't planned but confessed to adding something, he wouldn't say exactly what, to her drink to loosen her up a little. Loosen up? That was an understatement. He turned her buck fuckin' wild and he had no regrets.