Misty (13 page)

Sergio's strong hand grasped hers. “Leave that pussy alone.”

“But…” Anya squirmed with desire.

“I'm gonna take care of it in a minute. Be patient, ma-ma.”

Abiding by his wishes and surrendering to his skillful tongue, she looped her arms around his neck, her fingers combing through his silky hair. His lips returned to her breasts, and he nibbled and sucked until Anya was beseeching him to fill her with dick.

After an eternity of pitiful begging, Anya's pleas turned into moans of gratitude when Sergio inched downward, positioning himself inside the space between her thighs. She was more than ready to get fucked, but would accept the rhythmic in and out strokes of a thick finger while a skillful, wet tongue twirled around her swelling clit.

But Sergio had other ideas. Using only the tip of his tongue, he licked at her sensitive bud, teasing her into slow madness. Making growling sounds, she arched her back, lifted her butt off the bed,
trying to make her pussy flush with his face, urging him to tongue her deeply. But Sergio continued the slow lick that had her thrashing, cursing, and pleading for mercy.

“It's too soon, baby. You gotta keep making that honey for me,” he whispered in a soft Latino accent.

The honey he was referring to was pouring out of her pussy, and as far as she was concerned, there was more than enough to satisfy him. Anya had come to learn that Sergio loved sucking the sweetness out of her pussy, and he did it in a manner that was noisy, like he was slurping oysters. The way he ate pussy was super sexy, had her ass on fire and ready to turn him over, get on top, and ride him like a stallion.

“That's enough, Sergio,” Anya whined, unable to endure any more of the sexual torture he was putting her through.

“Not yet,” he insisted, swiping a finger between the crevice of her pussy lips, checking the amount of moisture. “It's nice and juicy in there, baby. Open your legs wide for me,” he instructed.

Unsure if she could handle a dizzying and drawn-out, pussy-eating performance, Anya did the opposite of Sergio's request, and pressed her thighs together tightly.

“Come on, ma-ma,” he coaxed. “Let me taste that honey.”

Slowly, hesitantly, she widened the space between her thighs. She bit down on her bottom lip and squeezed her eyes shut, praying she didn't pass out from sheer pleasure. Sergio was a master at cunnilingus, but surprisingly he'd never allowed her to suck his dick.

The first time she made the attempt, he scolded her. “No, I don't want you to do that. It's nasty. There're plenty of dirty bitches out there who give blow jobs and whatnot. But you're my woman, and I kiss you…I need the lips that I kiss to be pure.”

Anya didn't understand Sergio's aversion to fellatio; she figured
it must have been a Dominican thing, and she didn't probe him for an explanation.

Right now, she was fighting to stay conscious while he sucked and tongued her nearly to death. Finally, his appetite was satisfied and he grabbed her hand and aimed it toward his dick. Obligingly, she wrapped her palm around his hot flesh.

“You feel how hard you got me, ma-ma?”

“Yes, and I want you so bad,” she whimpered.

“How bad do you want this dick?”

“More than I want money. More than food. More than…” She paused as she tried to come up with more examples, but her mind went blank. It didn't matter because Sergio wasn't listening anymore. He was breathing hard and guiding his dick toward her heated center. Once he pushed inside her, and she wrapped her legs around his waist, they both began groaning, speaking irrationally, and yelling nonsensically.

And when it was over, Anya rested her head on Sergio's chest, he wrapped both arms around her and cooed to her in soft-spoken Spanish.

In the morning when Anya opened her eyes, Sergio was leaning over her with his lips brushing her cheek. “Go back to sleep; I'll call you later.”

“Okay,” Anya murmured.

“Tomorrow night, I'm gonna take you somewhere fantastic. Okay, baby?”

She smiled and nodded, and watched as he sauntered out of the bedroom.

It was evident that Sergio genuinely cared for Anya. Each time they got together, he splurged on her, taking her to the finest restaurants and always surprising her with gifts. She asked him
not to, but he ignored her wishes, showering her with lavish presents: expensive Dominican art, a rose gold bangle, embellished with brilliant diamonds, an ostrich Prada bag, exquisite Clive Christian perfume, and an Hermès vintage silk scarf. Whenever they were together, he treated her as if she were as delicate as fine china, opening doors for her, holding her hand as he helped her out of his enormous SUV. He was completely attentive to her, checking in daily and asking if she needed anything.

Most women would give anything to have a fine man like Sergio catering to their every whim, but Anya was terribly uncomfortable with the way he doted on her. She felt guilty because all she really wanted from him was sex. He was good in bed and she was using his body as a way to forget her troubles.

The investigator had yet to find her dad, which was deeply troubling, and not knowing whether Brick was incarcerated or not, weighed heavily on her heart. One night when the uncertainty became unbearable, she went online and did a search on the Pennsylvania Inmate Locator site. She was relieved when Brick's name didn't come up.

Where is he—back with his wife?
Anya asked herself for the hundredth time. Thankfully, she could always rely on Sergio to ease her pain when her yearning desire for Brick caused her eyes to fill with tears.

It was surprising that a hustler and a known womanizer like Sergio had so much free time to spend with her. He was never too busy to wine and dine her, making Anya keenly aware that his feelings exceeded a mere sexual attraction. She wished she felt the same, but she didn't. She liked Sergio a lot; their sexual chemistry was amazing, but she was still in love with Brick.

Maybe in time, she'd be able to give a little more of herself to
Sergio, since it was obvious that he wasn't going anywhere, anytime soon.

And neither was Natalie.

Anya had politely tried to ease out of her friendship with Natalie, ignoring her calls most of the time and when she did pick up the phone, she'd quickly tell Natalie she was busy and couldn't talk. But Natalie wouldn't take a hint and was relentless, leaving long-winded messages in which she bragged about her continued sexual adventures with Majid and several other men employed by Sergio. The sex acts Natalie described were disturbing, and Anya wondered if Natalie possessed all her mental faculties.

Feeling sorry for her friend and planning to offer her some advice about her wanton conduct, Anya agreed to meet Natalie for drinks during happy hour at a club called Skippy's in downtown Indianapolis. According to Natalie, the venue was trendy and offered free appetizers and specialty martinis that only cost three dollars, which Natalie considered a big plus.

A
t the club, Anya located Natalie at the buffet table, loading up a plate with hot wings and meatballs. She noticed immediately that Natalie still had a shabby look about her and her weave was as tacky as ever.

“Hey, girl,” Natalie greeted. “Get yourself a plate 'cause the food disappears quick.”

“I'm good.” Anya had heard stories about the germs that accumulated in food served buffet style. She followed behind Natalie until her friend's plate was piled so high, Anya looked around in embarrassment.

Natalie pointed to an empty table with an empty martini glass. “I saved that table for us. This place is going to be packed in a few minutes.”

They meandered over to the table and a waitress stopped by and took their drink orders.

“I'll have two more chocolate martinis. What do you want, Anya?”

“Um…chocolate martini sounds good. I'll have the same, but only one.”

“Girl, you need to drink up. The drinks are cheap tonight; they usually cost ten dollars apiece. Besides, I'm paying the tab, so you don't have to act like a miser.”

“Whoa. Check you out, big spender,” Anya teased. “Seriously, though, I only want one martini. I have to drive.”

Natalie shook her head as if Anya were a fool. The waitress trotted off and Natalie leaned in. She spoke in a low, conspiratorial tone. “I'm getting money, girl. I'm working for Majid.”

“Selling drugs?” Anya asked with a shocked expression on her face.

“No. He put me on the payroll to take care of him and his friends.”

“I already know that. You've left a lot of very descriptive messages, but I thought you were having fun being freaky. I didn't know Majid was pimping you out.”

“He's not pimping me out,” Natalie replied, offended. “We're in a relationship that's both business and pleasure.”

“So, you're Majid's girl, now?”

“Majid sees a lot of different women, but no one is wifey. That could be my spot if I let him groom me the way he wants to.”

“Groom you? What are you talking about?”

“He wants his main chick to be open-minded, sexually, and he's trying to help me get over my hang-ups.”

“I didn't think you had any sexual hang-ups.”

“I have a few that I need to work on.”

“Like what?”

“I'm not going to get into all that. That's between me and my man. Like I said, Majid is teaching me quite a few things and he's also making sure that my money is right.” Natalie smiled brightly. “I feel like I've finally found the man of my dreams.”

Majid seemed more like a nightmare, but Anya didn't say anything. Not yet. She decided to wait until she had a little bit of liquor in her before she got the heart to tell Natalie it sounded like Majid was only using her.

“I think I proved myself last night,” Natalie said. She had such a ridiculous smile on her face, Anya wanted to smack her.

“How'd you prove yourself?” Anya braced herself to hear about more of Natalie's deviant behavior.

Natalie took a deep breath and grinned, as if she was about to reveal a wonderful love story. “Last night, I let Majid's friends fuck me with beer bottles. Those niggas couldn't believe how deep my pussy is.”

Appalled, Anya gasped and recoiled. Anya attempted to speak, but could only cover her mouth in horror. Natalie was a hot, ratchet mess. The girl had no self-esteem whatsoever and was quite possibly, a lunatic. Finally finding her voice, Anya said sternly, “What you're doing is dangerous, Natalie. And it's unsanitary. Why would you allow those men to degrade you like that? There's no amount of money worth your dignity. Something is seriously wrong with you, girl; you need to talk to a professional.”

Natalie sucked in her breath indignantly. She became so infuriated, her nostrils flared. “I hate when bitches judge me. People been judging me all my life and I'm sick of it. I invited you here to have a good time, not to listen to you criticize me. Who do you think you are, talking to me like you think you're my mother?”

“I'm not trying to act like your mother; I'm only saying—”

“You don't have any right to judge me!” Natalie snapped, pointing a finger at Anya as she made her point.

“Damn. Simmer down, sis, and get your fucking finger out of my face.”

Natalie lowered her finger.

“Look, girl, it's your life, and if you like it, I love it,” Anya said, making a final decision to cut Natalie loose. Before the evening ended, she was going to be straight up, and tell her that she didn't want to associate with a deranged person. Until Natalie got some help, she needed to lose Anya's number. But Anya needed her liquid
courage to express her sentiments. She scanned the room, looking for the waitress. Driving or not, she desperately needed another drink.

Eager to smooth the slight friction between her and Anya, Natalie said in a gentler tone, “So, anyway, girl, I'm glad you came out to have drinks with me. It's nice to have a best friend who can listen without passing judgment.”

I'm not your best friend, you psycho!
“What, uh, happened to the girls you used to hang with from the neighborhood?”

“I don't mess with none of these bitches in Indianapolis; somebody's always starting rumors about me, so I keep to myself.”

Anya could understand why people gossiped about Natalie; the girl's behavior was crude and scandalous. She craved attention, any kind of attention, which led Anya to surmise that something traumatic had happened during Natalie's childhood. Having lost her mother at a young age, Anya could relate to dealing with a tragic childhood. If she knew more about Natalie's family life, maybe she could understand what made her tick.

The waitress arrived and set their drinks on the table. Natalie proudly extracted a five and a ten from her wallet and told the waitress to keep the change.

“Thanks for the drink, Natalie,” Anya said.

“You're welcome. There's plenty more where that came from. Girl, I'm ballin',” Natalie bragged, her lips twisted arrogantly, her neck and shoulders moving in time to the music that the DJ played. Then, her expression and her tone of voice suddenly softened. “I'm glad you came home, Anya. I hope we can start being more like sisters than friends.”