MadameFrankie (10 page)

Captain Michael Raymond Amberson’s death in a roadside
bombing in Afghanistan was commemorated in a ceremony as dignified as his
service and ultimate sacrifice. But Trudy wasn’t soothed by the pomp and
circumstance. She’d lost the only man she’d loved. She’d lost her high school
sweetheart, her college romance, her devoted husband, her life mate. And when
the uniformed officer handed her the folded flag and saluted, she couldn’t help
herself. She broke down and sobbed like a baby.

Frankie put her arm around her best friend and held her
tightly. She rocked her ever so gently and allowed her to let it all out in the
comfort of her embrace.

Yvette, seated on the other side of Trudy, held Trudy’s
trembling hand and cried right along with her.

There was indeed a homecoming party of sorts for Michael.
After the funeral, friends and family gathered at Trudy’s place for the repose.
Food, drink, sympathy and solace were plentiful.

Mr. and Mrs. Amberson, Michael’s parents, staying with
Trudy, understood her loss as something greater than theirs. Yes, they had lost
their only son. The pain was deep and grave. But they still had each other to
cling to, to comfort. Trudy’s pain was infinite.

Frankie and Yvette understood too. They were happy they were
there to be the sisters Trudy never had. And they were sad their comfort was so
terribly needed.

* * * * *

Days and weeks passed. Trudy’s recovery was slow. Frankie
and Yvette began to worry. They knew they had to do something.

Finally, they came up with a plan.

“We’re coming by,” Frankie informed Trudy when Trudy
answered her phone.

“Listen, Frankie—”

But Frankie had already hung up before Trudy had a chance to
object.

Less than an hour later, Frankie and Yvette were ringing
Trudy’s doorbell. Trudy peeked out the window through her lace curtains like an
old dowager recluse. Frankie put her hand on her hip and flipped her hair at
the sight of Trudy. Then she nudged Yvette.

“Don’t be trollin’ us like we a couple of damn Jehovah’s
Witnesses, bitch, come and open this damn door,” Yvette demanded.

With a sigh and a weak smile, Trudy let the curtains fall
back in place, made her way to her front door and slowly opened it.

“Hey,” she said glumly.

“Hey, girl,” Frankie said, hugging her.

“Gimme some of that too,” Yvette insisted, joining in the
hug.

“Come on in,” she said, leading them into the living room.
“I hope there’s something to drink in that bag. I haven’t been out to the
store.”

“Don’t worry, doll,” Frankie said, pulling out a bottle of
chardonnay. “We got you covered.”

“Look, I’m doing better than I look,” she said as she
entered her kitchen and found three wineglasses and a corkscrew.

“You look fine, Trudy,” Frankie said.

“I know all this moping around is not going to bring Michael
back to me.”

“So then why are you moping around?”

“You wouldn’t understand, Yvette.” Trudy returned to the
living room and sat in the chair across from her girls on the sofa. She handed
each of them a glass and set the bottle of wine and the corkscrew on the coffee
table between them.

“What she’s trying to say, Trudy, is Michael may be gone,
but he would want you to be happy,” Frankie said while Yvette opened the wine
and filled their glasses. “Among all the other great things he accomplished,
knowing you’re happy would probably give him the greatest satisfaction,
wherever he is.”

“He’s in my heart.”

“Yes he is. So keep that heart happy and warm for him.”

“Lift up your glasses, divas,” Yvette commanded, taking the
lead. And they did. “To Michael!”

“To Michael!” Frankie and Trudy repeated. And they all took
a drink.

Suddenly, Trudy broke out into a giggle. “That felt sooo good,”
she said.

“See?” Frankie said, touching Trudy’s hand.

“Oh! Almost forgot!” Yvette said, reaching in the bag parked
next to her.

“You’re gonna love this,” Frankie said, putting her
wineglass down.

“Now we know you’ve been a little out of practice,” Yvette
continued as she rummaged. “So we picked you up a little something.”

“What?”

“Remember that big black dildo you were salivating over at
the Pleasure Chest?” Frankie asked with a sly smile.

“Y’all didn’t!”

“Voilà!”
Frankie declared, whipping out the
gift-wrapped phallus.

“Oh! My! God!”

“God should be so hung.”

“You are such a heathen, bitch,” Trudy gleefully snapped at
Yvette, reaching out with both hands, accepting the gift as if it were the Holy
Grail. She then looked up at her friends, eyes glazed. “I love you guys.”

“Well you’re gonna love us even more after we’re finished
with you, “ Frankie said.

“What?”

“Is your passport in order?”

“Of course.”

“Then get ready for the adventure of a lifetime.”

“What are you talking about?”

“We are treating you to a week’s vacation in the Dominican
Republic at House of John!”

“That whore house y’all go to all time?”

“That whore house the three of us are going to,” Frankie
continued.

“Next week,” Yvette added

“Nah, nah, Yvette. I don’t think so.”

“Girl, are you trying to put that pussy in a nunnery?”
Yvette huffed.

“Thanks to Mr. Black here, my pussy will be in better hands
than Allstate,” Trudy said, swinging the gift-wrapped dildo.

“Mr. Black is fine for a toy,” Franke gently said. “But
eventually you gotta get back to the real thing.”

“I’m not ready for the real thing right now. The real thing
died, Frankie.”

“But you didn’t.”

“Look, I’ve never been with another man in my whole life but
Michael.”

“Well it’s time for you to open up with some new
possibilities,” said Yvette. “And I do mean open up.”

“I wouldn’t even know what to do.”

“Do what you did with Michael,” Yvette declared.

“Make him proud,” Frankie stated like a veteran.

“I’m not ready yet. I’m just not ready.”

“If not now, when, girl?” Yvette asked with a head twist.

“Listen, I appreciate what you guys are trying to do, but
I’m still grieving.”

“We know, Trudy. And there’s nothing better to ease some
grief than a little good-ass sex.”

“For you, sex is the cure for everything, Yvette.”

“And look at me. Healthy, hot and horny as a bull in a cow
field.”

“Listen, I’m going to pass for now. Maybe down the line.
Maybe. But for now, you ladies have a good trip.”

* * * * *

That love intervention from her girls was just what Trudy
needed. She was so lucky to have them.

Long after they’d gone, the soothing of their visit kept a
smile on her face.

She’d been sitting in her window and watching the
pink-orange sun set beneath the Santa Monica mountain range.

She had been there long enough to watch the moonrise. And
the moon smiled down on her. And suddenly in its bright, ivory white glow, she
saw Michael’s smile. And then she heard his voice—deep, rich, resonate, strong,
soft.

“It’s gonna be all right, baby,” he was telling her. “You’re
gonna be all right.”

And as much as she missed him, she believed him. He always
told her the truth. She knew these words of encouragement were as truthful as
all his previous times of soothing her.

“Thank you, my love,” she whispered softly, looking up into
the sky, looking up at Michael’s gleaming white smile.

Slowly she threw him a goodnight kiss and she felt the kiss
he threw back at her.

Trudy sighed with a new kind of relief, knowing he would be
there watching over her, encouraging her to go on with the art of living. She
was ready and willing to obey.

After drawing a warm bubble bath, Trudy undressed slowly,
then slipped into the tub. She delighted in the liquid, fragranced soothing for
more than a half hour, sponging every inch of her big, beautiful body with
sensual delicacy.

When she finished, she dried herself off in front of the
bathroom’s full-length mirror, smiling at the sight of her curvaceous frame.
She slowly ran the towel under and around her full D-cup breasts, then around
and about the thick hips Michael had referred to as the hips of a woman.

She then went to her bedroom and laid her naked body down on
the bed. She stared up at the ceiling and moved her hands slowly over her
smooth body, giving it a relaxing massage.

Eventually her fingers found her warm opening. Her probing
gave her a tingle. She sighed and continued the playful probe until she was
warmed up for ultimate pleasure.

She had already unwrapped and washed her new toy. The big,
shiny black dildo lay cradled in a lace-lined chaffing dish on her nightstand.
She reached over and found it by touch.

She picked it up and stared at it. Its shape, color, girth
and cut reminded her of Michael.

Slowly she glided it over her body, paying loving attention
to all of her special zones. She then lowered it toward her crotch and brushed
it teasingly across her inner thighs, over her labia and clit. She could feel
herself getting wetter, building up to the sweet tension.

Slowly, she pushed it in and out of her vagina, angling it
to hit her most pleasurable spots. The rhythmic thrill nearly brought her to
orgasm. But she managed to hold back.

While she pushed Mr. Black in and out of her with one hand,
she stimulated her clit with the other. The combination of the two activities
had her heart beating in double time, her tongue licking her quivering lips.
She writhed with ecstatic thoughts of Michael fucking her with his own Mr.
Black.

She accelerated the plunging, the clitoris play, until she
was huffing and puffing and wiggling wildly on her bed. And suddenly she came
with gushing squirts and a hard, intense orgasm she had so often experienced
with Michael.

Trudy collapsed on the bed. Her fingers slipped from her
pussy, as did the dildo, which fell to the floor. She lay there in the
afterglow of her self-pleasuring for what seemed like forever, in the midst of
a daydream she didn’t want to end.

But it did and she reached over and picked up her phone from
the nightstand. She rolled through her contacts and found the number and tapped
it.

“Hey doll,” Frankie answered half-asleep.

“Hey.”

“You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine.”

“That’s good.”

“Frankie?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you for today, you and Yvette. But you know I would
never call Yvette this time of night unless I wanted a serious cursing out.”

“You’re right about that.”

“But thank you. And thank you for the goody-gift.”

“You’re welcome.”

“You know, it’s so strange. It’s been nearly two years since
I had some real flesh-and-blood dick between my legs.”

“I can only imagine, girl. But then, maybe I can’t,” Frankie
chuckled. Trudy chuckled too.

“You know that trip you’re planning to the Dominican
Republic?”

“Yeah?”

“Count me in.”

Frankie smiled. “Doll, you’re counted in.”

“But do me a favor.”

“Anything, Doll.”

“You know it’s been awhile for me, right?”

“Yeah, I know.”

“So when I get down there, don’t let me hurt anybody.”

Cedric Whitfield stood in the doorway of
Casa de Mita
with open arms as Marcos parked the SUV. Two of Cedric’s favorite clients,
Frankie and Yvette, jumped out of the vehicle before Marcos had time to open
the doors for them. Trudy followed her girls with a happy hesitancy.

Cedric, Frankie and Yvette hugged, kissed and greeted each
other like cherished family and long-lost friends. And oh how pleased Cedric
was to meet their friend and
Casa de Mita
newbie Trudy.

“Welcome to you, Trudy,” he gushed, hugging her and sizing
her up and down. Being from a family of big, beautiful black women, he was
pleasingly astounded by Trudy’s resemblance to his baby sister Sybil back in
Brooklyn. “My God,” he continued. “You could be her twin!”

He ushered them inside and registered them.

“Okay, ladies, off to your rooms for a well-deserved rest
after that long flight from LA,” he admonished. “The pleasure awaiting you
tonight, Trudy, can only be described as unimaginable!”

Being individually pointed out made Trudy blush. Frankie and
Yvette knowingly understood, as they led their nervous friend to the foyer’s
spiral staircase.

Everything seemed to move in slow motion for Trudy as she
followed her friends up the stairs, affording her a view of House of John and
why
Casa de Mita
was nicknamed so.

It reminded her of every movie set bordello she’d witnessed
in the dark of a theater, on a DVD and cable. The ornate spiral staircase, the
sparkling chandelier in the parlor and the baby grand piano. Guests—Johns, male
and female—lounging expectantly in the parlor and out on the patio, sipping on
umbrella drinks and dark cocktails garnished with limes and pineapples, waiting
for the music of the night.

“I’ve never been inside a whorehouse before,” Trudy found
herself whispering to no one in particular as her friends led her up to her
room.

“This is not a whorehouse,” Yvette said.

“This is a house of love,” Frankie added, giving her a hug.

That afternoon all three ladies slept soundly. Frankie’s
dreams were filled with visions of being in Edgar’s arms again. Yvette slept
like an athlete preparing for a marathon. Trudy’s sleep was dotted with
memories of Michael and notions of what lay ahead without him.

That night the mood in the parlor of
Casa de Mita
was
as romantic as any other. The beautiful chandelier sparkled. The tables were
all candlelit. And Fidel at his nightly post at the piano softly serenaded
anxious clients and local men of pleasure.

But of course this was all totally new to Trudy. She
appeared in the entryway fresh and rested, bathed, perfumed, coiffed and
nervous. Her outfit was modestly alluring, accentuating her classic Rubenesque
figure.

She glanced meekly around the room and with relief connected
with Frankie’s approving stare at a table across the room.

With a new smile, she walked toward her friend, through the
subtle crowd. Fidel, the piano player, looked up and saw her. The sight of her
almost made him forget the lyrics he was singing. Her curvaceous body, her
lovely dimpled smile and her cherub beauty mesmerized him. She was heaven in
heels. Trudy caught his admiring glances, which made him blush. She blushed
too.

“Well look at you!” Frankie grinned approvingly, pointing at
the chair across from her. “Sit.”

“Thanks. Where’s Yvette?”

“She booked early.”

“Oh.”

“Don’t you look nice.”

“Thanks,” Trudy giggled. “So do you.”

“We old girls gotta try harder,” Frankie quipped, the vision
of Gabrielle Union flashing in her head.

“Wow,” Trudy said, awed and taking in her surroundings
again. “This place is—”

“Evocative?”

“To say the least. Have to admit, Frankie. I don’t know what
the hell I’m doing.”

“You’re doing just fine.
Cuba Libre?
” Frankie got the
attention of the handsome waiter hovering nearby.

“What?”

“Rum and Coke.”

“Oh sure. That’s fine.”

“
Uno Cuba Libre, por favor
,” Frankie requested
flirtatiously.

“
Si, senora
.” The waiter smiled at both the women,
then headed toward the bar.

“There was a time they used to call me
senorita
,”
Frankie mused, eyeing the waiter’s cute bubble-butt. “So,” she recovered, “are
you ready for your new adventure in paradise?”

“I guess.”

“Relax, baby. You’re going to meet some very nice men
tonight and maybe even a very nice special man.”

“My very special man is—”

“Don’t dwell on the past, Doll. Prepare for the future.
Speaking of which…” Frankie had looked up toward the entryway and smiled
proudly. Trudy followed her glance. Standing in the doorway were two men, twin
Adonises. Edgar was as handsome and sexy as ever. And the man standing with him
was even hotter.

When Edgar saw Frankie, his eyes lit up. He nudged his
partner and led him toward Frankie’s table.

“Mi amor,”
he said, kissing Frankie’s hand and
glancing at Frankie’s companion. “And you must be Trudy.”

“Yes,” Trudy giggled as Edgar took her hand and kissed it.
“Ladies, this is
mi amigo
Danté.”

“
Hola
, Danté,” Frankie greeted with fluttering eyes,
repeated by a giggling Trudy.

“Hola,”
Danté answered, openly admiring Trudy’s hefty
breasts.

“He does not speak English,” Edgar said as he and Danté sat.
“But his lovemaking skills speak to all.”

“Have they spoken to you,
mi amor
?” Frankie asked
knowingly.

“As a matter of fact they have,
mi amor
,” Edgar
answered without missing a beat.

“Tu eres muy bonita,”
Danté said directly to Trudy,
his clear midnight eyes staring into hers.

“Gracias.”
Trudy blushed, not knowing his exact
words, but knowing she was being highly complimented.

“Quiero singarte,”
the handsome hunk continued.

“What did he say?” Trudy begged Edgar with giddy
anticipation.

“He said that he would like to make wonderful love to you.”

“Oh my God!” Trudy gasped.

“Get a grip, Doll,” Frankie said, patting her friend’s hand.
“That’s what you’re here for.”

“I am, huh?” she said, taking a breath, inflating her
breasts, bulging Danté’s eyes.

“Exhale, Doll.”

And she did. Danté extended his hand.

“Vamos, mi amor,”
he said. And Trudy obeyed, placing
her hand in his, allowing him to pull her up from the table. As they crossed
the parlor floor, Trudy looked back, intrigued and frightened, wanting and
apprehensive, but giving Frankie a reassuring smile. She was ready to resume
the art of living.

And so was Frankie. It was so nice to be in the presence of
Edgar again, in the world of his lovely expansiveness. Of course he and Danté
had been together. Of course there was an Emmanuel in Edgar’s life, living in
the home he bought with what he’d earned by giving so much pleasure to so many.
Love indeed made the world go round. And Frankie decided right then and there that
she could do something about keeping the ball of love spinning. She made a note
to herself to sit down and have a talk with Cedric Whitfield before she
returned to the States.

* * * * *

Trudy wasn’t quite sure what was happening. As they walked
down the corridor toward her room, Danté smacked her on the behind every few
steps and growled,
“Tu culo grande es muy caliente.”

When they reached her room, he snatched the key from her. He
unlocked the door and swung it open, then took her hand and pulled her in with
a dashing swirl. He slammed the door behind them.

He turned her to him and took her face in his hands. He
stared into her eyes and grinned hungrily. Trudy felt like a Happy Meal waiting
to be devoured.

He kissed her hard, filling her mouth with his thick tongue.
The taste of cigarettes and brandy were repulsively delicious. It dizzied her
and frightened her.

He then bit her on the neck, making her wince. The sensation
sent a strange sting down her spine. It hurt and made her nipples hard.

Her hardened nipples didn’t go unnoticed by Danté. As if
irritated by her breasts’ childish beg for attention, he tore open her blouse
and ripped off her bra. His face showed his appreciation of the black nipples
rudely protruding from her luscious breasts. He sucked on them wrathfully,
licked them with a darting vengeance, all the while squeezing and massaging
every inch of her massive tits, her soft belly rolls and love handles.

Trudy was dazed and confused in some netherworld of
pleasure. It felt too good to be good.

Out of nowhere, she tore off his shirt and shoved him toward
the bed. He grabbed her hands, breaking his fall and stumbled backward until he
fell ass-first on the bed.

She hovered over him like an Amazonian dominatrix. Her
breasts stared down at him.

“Mis lindas bebes,”
he purred, looking up at them and
her with amazement showing on his face.

She unzipped her skirt and wrestled it down and tossed it
off, never taking her eyes off him. He unbuckled and unzipped his pants and
kicked them off, never taking his eyes off her.

He tore off her panties and fingered her wildly. Her
whimpering proved his fingers knew their way around a pussy. She caught sight
of herself in the mirror on the wall and didn’t recognize herself, which was
quite all right.

Then suddenly, he was eating her pussy, slobbering as if
famished. She was squealing, quivering, jumping up and down on his rambunctious
tongue.

And then he was kissing her again on the mouth. And as he
pulled her down on him, he fidgeted blindly with his underwear.

Suddenly she felt it. Huge, hot, thick and hard. His dick
slip-sliding along the crack of her ass gave her a new high. She reached back
and caressed what felt like a monster cock, fondled it and teased it like a
good cowgirl. Her big behind danced against that dick with an intensity that
had Danté grunting and oozing with pre-cum.

She was ready. He was ready. They both knew it. She reached
over past Danté, her breasts dangling in his face, him taking a mouthful, and
grabbed the packet off the nightstand. She hadn’t used condoms since she and
Michael were hot and horny high school seniors.

She tore it open with her teeth, squeezed the condom out,
reached back and slipped it on Danté’s hot, rock-hard throbber. Some things are
like riding a bike.

He then flipped her over onto the bed, on her back. He took
the pillows and stuffed them underneath her. Her asshole and pussy were smiling
up at him. He was smiling back.

He spread-eagled her fat legs and slid inside her. She
moaned. He moaned. And he slow-danced inside her with deep circular in-and-out
motions, hitting every part of her sugar walls.

“Yes! Yes! Fuck this whore! Fuck this bitch! Fuck this
pussy!”
Who was this screaming?
the out-of-body part of Trudy wondered.

And he did. He fucked her good, hard, steady and long.

And without losing his stride, he picked up all two hundred
and twenty pounds of her, his dick still busy inside her, her legs now wrapped
around his waist and carried her across the room. He fucked her hard and deep
with every step. He continued to fuck her as he sat her on the low chest of
drawers against the wall.

He spread her legs even wider and fucked her even deeper.
She grunted gleefully with the fabulous battery. His dick was in and out of
her, thrilling her to the point of screaming. Her toes twisted and she flung
hair from side to side as his steady ramming banged her head against the wall.
And she wailed gleefully with every slamming, taking real live dick for the
first time in nearly two years.

Frankie and Edgar, making love in the room next door, were
initially thrown off their rhythm by the bombastic pounding against the wall,
but not for long. The heat next door made them even hotter. Soon both rooms
were filled with the thrill of mad and wonderful sex. And both couples came at
the same time.

Frankie and Edgar giggled in each other’s arms.

“When you tell me your friend is a big girl,” Edgar
whispered in Frankie’s ear, “I knew Danté would be good for her.”

“And them fucking next door wasn’t bad for us either.”

“True,” Edgar purred, kissing Frankie’s lips as he spoke.
“But we need nothing but ourselves to make glorious love.”

* * * * *

And so glorious love filled the lives of all three ladies on
vacation in paradise.

The pain of life was not forgotten during those few vacation
days, but they were able to put a bit of the pain on hold.

The loss of Michael would forever be a part of Trudy’s
existence. But her deep friendship with her best girlfriends and the human
touch of a man again eased much.

Yvette’s acting career was as unremarkable as her romantic
life. There were moments when she felt a tinge of jealousy toward Trudy and
Frankie. Although they weren’t stars, they were recognizable faces with
respectable résumés and a modicum of celebrity. They may have only been
B-listers, but Yvette was well aware that she, at best, was on the D-list.

She was also on the D-list romantically. Frankie and Trudy
knew true love, real love, marriages and relationships. They knew what it was
like to have loving soul mates. Yvette’s life was dotted with the occasional
one-night stand, a booty-call here and there and during her younger days, a
ride on the casting couch in return for career promises that never panned out.

She had made herself believe her romantic life was just as
she wanted it, well, except for the broken casting couch promises. She made
herself believe she enjoyed being free of romantic entanglements, free from
emotional commitments, free from the aches and pains of the lovelorn. But deep
down inside she believed that maybe, she was too free.