Between My Thighs: An Urban Erotic Tale (18 page)

I was stunned. I could not believe the charade that took place in the courtroom. When the judge responded, he dismissed the jury on the grounds that the prosecution did not raise issues of fact, cleared the courtroom, and fined the prosecution. I almost passed out.

“Relax,” Kevin said. “This is in our favor.”

I’d never seen anything like it before. The judge deliberated for a brief moment before replying, “I’m very disappointed with the presentation of the prosecution. You have not been able to establish beyond reasonable doubt that the defendant was not temporarily insane. The defense has convinced me based on the evidence presented that Dr. Raquel Howard did act with irresistible impulse. Normally, I would make the recommendation for release into a mental institution for further evaluation, but based on the testimony of Dr. Frazier, the expert reports entered into evidence, and the medical records given, I’m concluding with the verdict that Dr. Raquel Howard is not guilty by way of temporary insanity. We stand adjourned.”

Kevin looked at me and said, “I told you I had people in my pocket.”

Chapter 19|

“Aunt Darlene” was on her way to visit. That was the name I’d given my period because she was a bitch, just like my aunt Darlene who came and went when she damn well pleased and had more personalities than all of my patients put together.

It may have almost been that time, but I still craved a quickie. I called Donovan and invited him over. We’d been sexing each other since I returned from the asylum a month earlier. He was a love maker, took his time with me. He had potential to be a back breaker, but he preferred a slow, sensual grind. He licked my pussy for hours, told me it tasted sweet like mangos, the best he’d ever savored. I loved how he eased his tongue in, out, in, out. He said it was delectable. He was pretty luscious his damn self.

His dick bumped my cervix, causing both joy and pain. I’d recently been diagnosed with cervicitis—inflammation of the cervix. The doctors said the condition might be a result of an allergic reaction to contraceptive spermicides or latex in condoms. That didn’t stop me from having my orgasm. And when I did, it was a mixture of mango and strawberry.

“You’re bleeding,” Donovan said after we finished screwing.

“See what you do to me,” I replied. “You’re such a beast.” I chuckled to myself.

I’d known my period was coming and I allowed his dick to pull it down. He’d gone home thinking he made me bleed. Truth was, no man had ever done that, but I stroked his ego and allowed him to think he had this pussy under control.

• • •

I woke up the next morning with a smile on my face. My firm was thriving. We were on a fast track, closing more than fifty deals per week. It was good being back at work. I spent the day trying to catch up.

Khalil had sent me an e-mail, unaware of what I’d gone through. He and Janet split. He came out the closet with his gay lifestyle and started a new life with his man. He didn’t have the courage to speak to me about the matter but said he would be in touch one day. He didn’t say anything about being HIV positive, probably figured Janet hadn’t mentioned that tidbit.

Jason, there was no telling where he was hiding. Rumor had it, he’d crossed Troy, and even from the grave, that nigga ran the streets.

Meanwhile, somewhere off Rockaway, Troy’s second baby mama had a party. It was supposed to be a home-going celebration, but I’m sure it was more victorious than reminiscent. She’d gotten over like a fat rat. Troy practically left his empire to her. From cars to cash to offshore bank accounts, every damn thing was in her name. I’d done her ass a favor while I was stuck with a damn bill for $160,000 from HSBC for Troy’s commercial loan.

Apparently, Troy had gone into the bank with some woman and used my identification and Social Security number to secure a business loan to build a housing project in Jacksonville, Florida, without my knowledge.

• • •

I’d gotten so comfortable, sipping café mocha and going through my mail that I was startled when my assistant buzzed me, saying someone was on the line to discuss Dorian Johnson. I hesitated. Perhaps it was someone from the precinct calling with some new information on the case. For some reason, my inner spirit told me not to take the call. The person didn’t leave a message. I slipped back into my daydream.

My thoughts were flooded with Troy and Dallas screwing like rabbits. She was not as fine as I was. Her body wasn’t as tight as mine. Her pussy couldn’t have been as tight as mine. I kept pondering the reason Troy would mess around with that scant and came up with nothing. Troy had made a mockery out of me.

Fear, it was the ultimate deception. It’s something we all have, yet we convince ourselves it doesn’t exist. For me, fear was riding my ass, and I failed to accept it. It was hard coping at times. I was going to work every day, but wasn’t really into what I was doing. Sexually, I wasn’t being satisfied. I had all this good loving and was being neglected. That was my number one problem.

I’d always loved too hard, too much, and too quickly. I wanted a man to love me, to want me. In a way, my shrink was right. I sought that fatherly love that you should get from your daddy, but mine wasn’t around.

It was natural, not having my father in my life. I never could miss something that wasn’t there, yet I wasn’t sure exactly how a man was supposed to treat me, to love me. I knew he shouldn’t put his hands on me, but the other bullshit, I put up with.

Then there was the brotherly love I’d been trying to replace after my own brother was murdered. I found comfort in other men, filling that void—so I thought.

My fixation on oral, vaginal, and anal stimulation created my need for a warrior, a back breaker, a beast like Troy who failed to deliver in so many areas. I used a number of men to create my ideal, flawless character, and I told myself that was okay, but it wasn’t.

Broken promises. The next man who ventured between my thighs was supposed to be equivalent to my tight-ass credentials. Between the big dicks and quick fixes, I’d managed to amend my thought process, adapting to my surroundings, and in my environment, the black men didn’t have any damn credentials, other than the size of their equipment, and in the end, that wasn’t enough.

I could cross over. I contemplated being with a white man several times. I would only be kidding myself. At best, he would only be able to tend to my intellectual needs.

When I was in college, I had rules—strict rules. I’d never become involved with an uneducated man, a married man, or a man with children. Unfortunately, I’d failed at all three. Dorian was my married man, Troy was my ignorant man, and both of them fell in the baby-mama-drama-man category.

Every damn time I got caught up in my thoughts, my assistant interrupted. “Dr. Howard, you missed your appointment at Pandora’s. Would you like me to reschedule?” she asked.

“No,” I replied.

Honestly, those bitches at Pandora’s had gotten on my damn nerves. It was an establishment operated by an assortment of auspicious white girls looking to turn a profit off the sexual inequities in the urban marketplace.

Basically, they provided the fantasy, you provided the rest. Anything could and would go down in Pandora’s. I came on the team as the lead strategist since none of the owners had any experience with the demographics or psychographics of the market they were chasing. It was an assignment I should have refused. It was office bullshit politics throughout the whole organization. Financially, I didn’t need the money, so I didn’t give a damn about missing my appointment. I decided I wasn’t going back. People lost their souls in Pandora’s. One good thing did come out of my experience: my introduction to Chauncey Grim, Harlem’s most lethal hustler.

Opening night, there was an endless supply of dick, pussy, cocaine, and rubbers for sale. For a nominal fee, you could take over the world, but when you left, the fantasy came to a screeching halt.

You had the option to pick your course or have it selected for you. Once you entered the establishment, you had to agree to the rules before you knew what they were. It was a chance you took if you wanted to play. There was no escaping the consequence once you agreed.

There was a couple who entered with their desire predetermined. The wife was interested in stratification by two men, so she invited a couple they had known for a while. It started out with both couples sexing each other, then they swapped and her husband fucked the other man’s lady. What the wife didn’t know was that the other guy went both ways. It was only a matter of time before he started caressing her husband. She didn’t have a problem with it at first and fondled the other woman while the men explored each other, occasionally inviting the guys in on their action. When it was all over, everyone had climaxed and gone home happy.

Later in the week, I recognized the husband in the main lounge. Instead of seeing him with wifey, he was following dude from their first rump session. He was looking for some side action, and it had dick written all over it.

All the freaks came out that night, including Chauncey. He had been frequenting the spot, hoping to eventually take it over. He had a stronger vision for the club. Chauncey wasn’t fine by any means. His body was rippled with muscles, his height was right—about six-five—and his stature was toned but a little jagged around the edges. He looked as if he wasn’t to be fucked with. He was that rough-neck brother who you’d give some pussy to only because you knew he wouldn’t let you down in the bedroom.

I decided to try his ass, took him into the champagne suite only to discover he couldn’t get it up in public. Such a letdown. We exchanged numbers and planned to discuss his acquisition of the club and my possible involvement marketing the business for him.

The last couple I remembered that night came in with aspirations of trying something new. They wanted to uncover ways to share each other, add some spunk to their lovemaking. Their voyeuristic trait led them into Pandora’s. In a way, that was their piece of heaven. A piece of hell ran their asses out.

After allowing their fantasy to be selected for them, they entered an area together where they sat, looking forward to the evening. They teased each other while waiting in the room, which had a unique vibe. The rooms in Pandora’s had secret passageways and revolving corridors that eventually separated the couple. As the room transfigured itself, three men appeared on the opposite side with the woman while her man stood helpless observing behind a glass barrier. They proceeded to fuck, suck, and duck as I called it. Watching, that was the fantasy. Those two came in as a couple but left wildly staccato. So, Pandora’s, I didn’t give a damn about doing that kind of work.

“Dr. Howard, Donovan is here to see you,” my assistant announced, pulling me out of my surreal state for the last time.

“Please send him in and hold my calls. No interruptions. No exceptions.”

Donovan entered my office looking debonair. I was glad to see him. He came bearing gifts, a nice lunch for the two of us, and a bottle of wine.

“What do I owe this pleasure?” I asked.

“Thanks to you, we just signed our first huge client.”

“Congrats. I’m glad things have picked up for you. You’ve got a great thing going.”

“Well, I know it isn’t much compared to some of the other players but we’re moving in the right direction,” he said.

“Let’s really celebrate,” I told him, walking over to the door and locking it. I sat on top of my desk and slipped out of my shoes. I extended my leg until it crawled up Donovan’s body, starting just below his knees, tickling between his legs, slowly easing up his chest, and resting at his lips.

He opened his mouth to receive me, sucking my toes so gently. He nibbled, sucked, licked, and massaged my feet. Donovan leaned into me, pressing both of his hands on my outer thighs. He moved my skirt up with one easy motion, revealing my black silk thong. He pulled at my panties with his teeth. Gently, he kissed the inside of my thigh. He was unbuttoning my silk blouse with one hand and slowly stimulating my asshole with the other. He pushed me down on my desk, my feet on the arms of the chair in which he was sitting. I sat waiting on my doctor to give me a pelvic exam.

Donovan swirled his tongue inside my pussy before inserting one of his gifts—a vibrating egg. He continued to lick my newly pierced clit and finger-fucked my ass. That little gadget worked overtime, getting lost inside me. I could feel it bouncing around, had me shaking and shit. Donovan had a remote and was controlling the speed and motion of the toy. It was wiggling, expanding, and warming up inside of me. Squirming, I barely could stay in place on my desk.

When he took it out, replacing it with his dick, it took all that was in me not to yell for mercy. Surely, the whole office would have heard me screaming. Instead, I buried the sounds in his neck, biting and scratching his ass up until we climaxed.

“Did you like it?” he asked.

“That’s an understatement,” I replied.

“How many times did you cum?” he asked with a smirk.

“I lost count after the fourth one.”

“That’s what I wanted to hear.” He kissed me, went down for one more taste, and headed back to work.

Shortly after Donovan left, my assistant came in and asked, “How was your lunch?” with a hint of sarcasm in her voice.

“It was enchanting,” I replied.

“What did you have?” she asked.

“Let me see, broiled lobster with shrimp, salad, chardonnay, and a mouthwatering piece of chocolate for dessert.”

She smiled. “You mind if I head out early?”

“No. Have a good one,” I said.

“Oh, I almost forgot. A woman came by to see you today.”

“What did she want?”

“She said it was personal.”

“Was it for psych or media?”

“I believe it was for psych, just by the way she was acting. She wouldn’t confirm that either. You also have an urgent message from a Detective Massey. He said it was imperative you called him back today.”

“Thanks. Have a good night,” I said.

I picked up the phone to call the detective.