To Each Her Own (The Swirl Book 1) (4 page)

“Party pooper.”

“Oh, trust and believe, I can party now. Okay, I’ll take a shot once we get this win over with.”

She felt a tiny spin in her head as she spoke. “Don’t get all secure, like this lead is just temporary now. We’re a fourth quarter team. We always come through in the clutch.”

“Well clutch is not what your girls with chest hair have been in for the last thirty-six minutes. They’ve actually been in neutral. Even Duncan and Parker. Actually, Parker is out there dribbling like a baby, tripping over his own feet like his shoelaces are glued together.”

She waived her hand at him, feeling her buzz. “He did not. Who made the pass to bring us up? Parker.”

“Yeah but he fell and then crawled trying to get up like a toddler.”

“See, you need to stop.” In her head she thought she said
shop
.

They looked back up at the TV.

Ramón asked, “So what made you such a Spurmaids fan? I mean you’re from Augusta, right?  Is it because you went to school in San Antonio?”

She focused to get it right, taking a second to rub her forehead. “I graduated from high school in Augusta, and went on to Georgia State for communications, but I got my Masters in Business Administration from Texas A and M.”

“That’s far from San Antonio, right?”

“Yeah, but in Texas, the only NBA teams you have are . . .” she paused, “Dallas, Houston and San Antonio. I just picked the Spurs because of wild Dennis Rodman.”

“Oh he was a bad boy, now. With those fish hooks in his nose. You know that’s why they called him The Worm.”

“Really?” She rubbed her forehead again and then sipped her water.

He stared at her. “Look at you. You want some coffee?”

“No. I’ll be fine.”

He waited, then pointed to her empty shot glass. “I hear they do a lot of drinking in college.”

“They do. But I guess you wouldn’t know that,” she joked.

“True. I don’t. I never went.”

She sipped more water, and got quiet.

“Don’t feel sorry for me. I stayed home and took care of my mom. My dad worked so hard, he was rarely home. My mom had Parkinson’s. She was on disability for years.” He spoke with flecks of sorrow speckled in his copper eyes.

She took a breath and absorbed his expression. “I’m so sorry.”

“No, it’s okay. She passed away five years ago. Seeing her go through that was tough, but accepting that she was no longer in pain made me happy. God’s will.”

She watched him as his sincere side shined. She liked it. “I’m sure it does.”

His posture stiffened, but his face softened.

She asked, “So how did you end up in Atlanta?”

“I worked at a few apartment complexes in Miami, mainly as a handyman. I would handle the mail there, notifying residents when they had packages, and delivering notices, stuff like that. A while ago, one of the managers in the rental office was moving out here and told me he saw a posting for a mailroom job at Bain. The rest is history.”

“I see. I’m glad he did.”

“Yeah, actually, his son applied for the job, but he didn’t get it. I felt bad. That big old watermelon head dude couldn’t even read.”

She titled her head and gave him the quit it eye. “Oh no you didn’t.”

“It’s true.”

“Anyway, you like it at Bain?” She sipped the last of her water.

“It’s cool. Not sure where I can go from the mailroom. A black man with a Puerto Rican accent can’t really do much.”

“Why not?” She set her glass down. Her head felt steadier. “You could do facilities, administration, even learn computers and work in IT. You ever thought about going to a technical college?”

“I have. I really want to open my own maintenance company.”

“Then you should.”

“True. For now, I’m just paying the bills right now, until . . .”

“Until what?”

“Just for now. I have a one bedroom in Dunwoody. Where do you live?”

“In Johns Creek, near Spaghetti Junction.”

“That’s Fulton County, right?”

“Yep. Not too far from here.”

“I see.” He leaned back. “Well, I’m impressed, I must say. You’ve earned your Masters. You have a corporate job, a great position. Impressive.”

“I’m impressed with you. You’re a great guy. A lot of fun.”

A tinge of red appeared along his cheeks. “You know sometimes, the guy who works at McDonald’s doesn’t get the hot girls?”

“You hardly work at McDonald’s.”

“True.”

She sat back. “But I can’t imagine that you, of all people, would have trouble meeting women. No matter what job you have. With your looks, personality, and sense of humor, you surely have women lining up to spend time with you.”

He flashed a humble grin. “I wouldn’t say that. As silly as I may be at times, I find that a lot of younger women aren’t as mature as I like. My mom was older than my father, and that’s what I look for. I like to have fun, but when it’s time to get serious, I want someone who can handle things and have some class, you know?”

“I do.” She exhaled and tested her level of steadiness, taking a moment to look around at the bustling crowd. They got louder, and then cheered, some began screaming.

He said loudly, looking at the game, “Uh-huh, the Spurmaids lost.”

She looked over. “What? No.”

“Yes.”

“Oh Lord. Next time, we’ll close it out.”

“Yeah, okay. I wanted you to win, really I did.”

“Sure you did.” She barely smiled.

He asked, “You good? Nothing else?”

“No, I’m good.” She removed the napkin from her lap, glanced at her watch, and then looked to her side, pulling her purse closer. “Actually, I’m really going to need to head home. It’s pretty late.”

“No work tomorrow, right?” he asked as he left cash for the bill.

“I know, but I’ve got a breakfast appointment.” She uncrossed her legs.

“I see. Well, as much as I hate to hear that, let me close this out and we can go. I mean you do need to get home and practice how you’re going to record that bucket challenge. I will be expecting it.”

“Right. Not just yet. But good win.” She put her purse strap along her arm. She then scooted along the seat and came to a stance.

He stood too. “Yes.”

As she proceeded to the door, he was one step behind her with his hand along the small of her back.

He stepped up and held the door open as they exited. “This has been nice.”

She sauntered along in the warmth of the still evening air. “For me, too. Thanks for inviting me.”

“My pleasure,” she said, taking her keys from her purse.

“We’ll do it again.”

“Yes, we will.”

Shasta asked curiously, from out of the blue, “What sign are you?”

“Scorpio. November twentieth” He waited. “You?”

“Scorpio as well. November sixth.”

“I see. So what does that mean?” He laughed.

She faced him, saying, “I have no idea,” and then she planted a small kiss along his cheek.

He gave a pleasurable moan, hugged her, and pointed to the white RAM truck next to her new black Mercedes. “Just so happens I’m parked right here.”

“Okay, cool.”

They faced each other and he hugged her tighter. “Thanks for the kiss.”

She hugged back. “You’re welcome.”

As he took a slow step back, she pressed the alarm button on her key ring and he opened her car door. Once she was inside he said, “Drive safely.”

She asked, “Ramón, will you follow me please? Just to make sure I get home okay?”

His willing expression escorted his one word. “Absolutely.”

He closed the door.

Moments later, he followed her out of the parking lot and onto Roswell Road, entering the ramp onto 285.

However, forty minutes later, Shasta lay on her back upon her living room sofa, with only the light of the muted TV before her. Between her legs, was Ramón, going down on her, working his way around her vagina as she moaned like her last breath depended upon his every expert tongue stroke.

In her head she felt fear. Fear that he was so good, so skilled, so precise, so able to make her feel something she’d never felt before in all of her years, that she had an urge to panic. Her legs shook uncontrollably. She fought to calm them, but they had a mind of their own, and they refused. The panic quickly morphed into excitement. A thrill owned her body and took over her mind, and she lost it. All control was stripped away, and she ground toward his face, taking his head into her hands with a firm grip, saying with lust, “I’m coming, I’m coming! Oh fuck!”

She did indeed come. Hard. But through every throb, Ramón stayed with it. He eased up a bit while she was at the end of her unravel. Once her breaths slowed a bit, he kissed her vagina with a loud smack, and came up to her face, looking at her while licking his lips.

Her vagina cursed him out. Her mind told her that he was suddenly twice as handsome. She blinked twice. Now he was ten times more handsome.

Fully dressed, Ramón came to a stance and held out his hand.

She adjusted herself, bringing the hem of her dress from her chest to down along her thighs as she stood before him. He led the way down her hallway into her bedroom.

She closed the door and looked back at him as he shed his jeans. His boxers fell to the floor.

Her head darted back.
Damn, it’s as tall as he is
, she said in her head.
And it’s a dark, deep brown. The head is lighter, like milk chocolate. It’s beautiful. It looks sturdy and powerful, just like the dicks I’ve seen in the movies.

Within ten seconds she had peeled off her clothes while he held on to his black penis with both hands, taking in the sight of the vanilla, nude figure before him. “Damn. I’m gonna finish the hell out of the job.”

She noticed, but didn’t care, that the man who had just eaten her out was three inches shorter than her in her stocking feet, and three inches longer where it counted than her previous lovers. But lying down, Ramón and Shasta were the same height.

She reached for a Trojan condom from her nightstand and he took it, ripping it open, putting it on without looking. She watched him cover his dick with the latex glove. It barely fit. She never had a reason to keep well-endowed rubbers on hand.

They proceeded to have sex in her bed for over an hour, him excited, taking shit, her excited, even from the view in the mirror of their contrasting skin tones, him filling her up deep and wide with a fit that she had never ever known, like it was hitting the spot, right at the exact place that had never been visited. He smelled different, felt different, talked different.

She thought,
Maya was right. Short men can really slay in the bedroom. Dang!

He kissed her, sucking her tongue and smacking his lips to hers. It was seductive passion, and it was new. His thick lips turned her on.

She found herself pressing another pulsating orgasm outward as he lay on top of her. Fluid rushed from her split and she heard her own gush. Feeling embarrassed, she said in his ear while he still fucked her, “Oh no. I’m so sorry. I think I peed on myself.”

“You didn’t, babe. You squirted. You came from your G-spot. And . . . . oh, shit!” He grunted. She could feel his swell even more. He throbbed against her walls as he yelled, “Yes! Oh, yes! Dammit!”

She kissed him like she loved him, or at least like her vagina did.

He kissed her back and said as if deadly certain, “That’s some good shit!”

“Ditto!”

He rolled over, holding himself and the full condom, while looking up at the ceiling, and then he asked, “So have many black men have you been with?”

Her reply. “None. Until now.” Different.

Chapter 4

Downtown Atlanta

The weekend was spent with Shasta reminiscing about the hot Friday night she had spent with Ramón from the mailroom. Reluctantly for him, he had left at four in the morning, as per Shasta’s request. She wanted him to be gone before the sun came up. In her head she felt that if he had still been there in the daylight, it would’ve felt too normal, too comfortable, too special, too heading toward something, maybe even a pre-commitment.

He had texted and called the evenings of Saturday and Sunday to say good-night. She, feeling the memory and still smelling his scent as she lay her head down on the pillow each night, took a moment to pleasure herself a couple of times, reminiscing about his tongue, the essence of his penis, his touch, his fingers inside of her, the feeling of her squirting for the very first time, and the soulful rhythm of his stroke.

That Monday, Shasta arrived to work early to prepare for a breakfast meeting with her department. As soon as she entered the building, the thought of running into Ramón ran through her mind.

Once the meeting was over at ten she headed right over to the office of her boss for a quick business meeting. She looked down a long hallway that led to the entrance of the mailroom. No Ramón.

Shasta entered the executive area. Maya was not at her desk as she usually was, but Shasta proceeded to the door that led to Tyson’s office suite. It was open.

She entered, leaving the door as it was. “Good morning. How are you?”

Right away he said, “Close the door.”

She made an about face in her off-white kitten heels, and closed it, then proceeded to make her way to his desk, taking the seat across from him, adjusting her tight blue-jean dress, crossing her legs with her notebook and ink pen in hand. She watched him shuffle through a pile of file folders, initialing each one as he looked through them while not replying to her greeting.

Tyson had an office that took up ten windows, from one corner of the building to nearly midway to the other. The suite had a full bathroom, a sitting area, a dressing area with a full closet, two red leather sofas, a wet bar, and a marble conference table with ten chairs.

Tyson Bain’s desk was a deep, rich mahogany. Behind him was a long credenza filled with framed awards and family photos, mainly of a freckle-faced, blonde haired, brown eyed wife of twenty years named Misty. The two were childless. 

Tyson Bain’s thick hair was the color of sand, and his eyes were the color of the ocean. He was fit, and distinguished looking with a strong jaw and chiseled chin. Handsome was his best friend, charm was his sister, and intelligence was his brother. He had big, strong hands that looked like they belonged to Duane “The Rock” Johnson. He was manly.