Nasty (17 page)

The green-eyed monster visited him for the first time in his life. With each postponement or rejection from Nicola, seeds of doubt were planted in his mind. Was she out there with another man? Was she fucking someone else? Was that really the reason he had so much difficulty catching up with her? He could feel an unfamiliar rage boiling in his vessels.

He convinced himself that, of course, she had the same strong feelings for him as he had for her. She was a master at keeping that mystique thing going hot and passionate in a relationship. She wasn’t like the young girls he was usually with that were willing to give away all the family jewels in the first twenty-four hours.

Nicola was more about savoring the moment. Tomorrow night would be even better. Just in case, he tried to get all the sleep he could get. No more repeats of their last time together. But more than anything else he did not want those voices to revisit him. And he especially didn’t want them popping up when he was at Nicola’s.

Carlos was terrified that the memory of Hector Salinas and what he had done to his dear sweet mother would “haunt” him again. Desperate, he turned to the Lord. He got out of bed, got on his knees and prayed:
No more voices. Please, God, NO MORE VOICES…PLEASE!

N
icola waved at the Williams Brothers as they boarded the six a.m. train. Almost missing their connection at Penn Station, the trio planned to hook up with the circus in Philadelphia.

They all had a ball riding in Nicola’s salmon-pink Mercedes convertible with the top down. She let Miles, the oldest, drive. He swore he was a demon on wheels…and he proved it by driving all the way from the Hamptons at speeds averaging over ninety miles per hour. How they had managed to dodge the highway patrol, Nicola never knew.

The guys promised to visit her next year. Nicola could sincerely say that she couldn’t wait until the circus came back into town.

Walking toward her car, she pulled out a card that Tony and Ernie had given her. The twins, behind Miles’ back, moonlighted at very risqué clubs that catered to sexual fetishes. The two were popular on the S&M circuit. They encouraged her to visit Dido’s Retreat, the top club in New York City. Never a fan of violence, she almost tossed the card but instead stuffed it in her pocketbook.
Who knows? One day I might get bored and change my mind.

Smiling all the way to her home in Hamilton Heights, she
thought about her schedule for the day. The music mogul, as she had dubbed Carlos, was coming over that evening. She chuckled to herself as she pulled into a parking spot right in front of her house and entered her brownstone. Carlos was so smitten with her that she felt guilty. She had kept him on hold all week long for a reason. She had other prey out there that needed her tender, loving care.

She did a mental count of the men she’d had sex with since she left Harrison three months ago. The math was simple. The Williams Brothers brought the count up to forty-two. She couldn’t control her sexual appetite. Nor did she want to.

Like the chick in Spike’s movie,
she had to have it
. And she had to have it with numerous people. One man could not satisfy her. Every day since she caught Harrison in the act of betrayal, she’d had sex with as many men as she could find. Her lust was insatiable. The G-shots didn’t help.

This morning was one of those rare times when she wanted to stay at home alone. Entering the living room, she walked over to the liquor cabinet, poured herself a glass of Courvoisier, and downed it like water. Still not as toasted as she needed to be, she thought about the thickly rolled marijuana blunts her generous Jamaican Rastafarian lover had left for her the other day. He had tried to coach her on how to smoke and get the maximum effect. All she had done was cough.

Before their love session ended, he had advised her, “Me ’tink it take a woman longer…keep trying…just relax…be happy.”

She’d never dabbled in drugs before, but her new hedonistic lifestyle had few rules for behavior. Nicola reached into the hidden drawer of her Egyptian obelisk and pulled three blunts from the generous pile her lover had left behind. Determined to get the “high” she had heard so much about…she smoked all three before she realized that her thinking was different.

A marijuana-inspired wave of peace floated throughout her bodyrelaxing her completely. Collapsing back onto her chaise lounge, she slurred out, “So this is what it’s all about…” She felt a mellowness she’d never known before.

And then out of nowhere…like hurricane gale force winds… bad thoughts about her past swept into her conscious mind and blew her high away. The marijuana fooled her with its initial sweetness. It lulled her into letting go of the pathologically tight control she had on her memory. All the crap from her past overwhelmed her mental defenses. She was on a trip down memory lane; a trip the dope and liquor would not let her escape.

What started out as a friendly morning with the three nicest little men she’d ever met had abruptly evolved into an emotional tornado. Nicola flung open the mahogany French doors that led out to her patio. With absolutely no concern of what the neighbors might see or say, she tore off all her clothes, jumped into the Jacuzzi, and prayed the hot, bubbling water would calm her down. She switched on the spa’s music system and turned the volume up loud, hoping her preprogrammed array of soft mellow jazz would chill her out.

Twenty minutes later, nothing had changed in her mind. She got out of the Jacuzzi, grabbed one of the thick terrycloth robes that were stored in her cabana and threw it on. Needing to escape, she wished she hadn’t left her home out in the Hamptons. Out there she could walk along the endless stretch of beach, and shake off the eight-hundred pounds of memories that were holding her down. Trapped in the city, too high to drive anywhere, she went back into the house.

Pacing back and forth in her living room, she desperately tried to shut out the thoughts about the abuses that she had experienced as a child. As quickly as those images held her captive, visions of Harrison’s betrayal would compete for space in her mind.

She could literally see the scene of him and that monster Sebastian screwing in front of the fireplace. She hadn’t gone into the den since that day. It was as if it was the scene of a murder. And it was. The victim: her five-year marriage to Harrison.

Nicola was miserable. She could not stop the thoughts. They were coming down on her like a monsoon rain in the tropics. She felt like she was locked in a movie theater…and forced to watch the film about her fucked-up life. Feeling out of control Nicola swore to herself:
It’s this damn dope! I’ll never touch another joint as long as I live
.
If it’s making me lose control of my mind, I want no parts of it.

A phone call interrupted Nicola’s parade of mental horror. It was Carlos,

“Morning, beautiful. Miss me?”

Nicola rolled her glazed over eyes. Carlos was becoming a nuisance. She lied and said, “I was just sitting here thinking of you, baby doll.”

“Why don’t I come by now, instead of later, and we can think about each other together?” pleaded Carlos.

“As scrumptious as that sounds, I’ll have to say no again. Just like I said last night, later this evening is the best time for me.” She added, as sarcastically as she could, “Seems like somebody needs to take a hint.”

On the other end, Carlos experienced rejection for the first time in his life. It hurt like a knife was cutting through his spine. Trying to re-group, he summoned a smidgen of self-respect and said, “OUCH. Oh, she bites…damn hard, too, baby. Easy. I got an ego to stroke here.”

Realizing how fragile Carlos was, and not wanting to dismiss him before sampling his gorgeous super-sized treats, she tenderly purred, “It’s more than just your ego that needs stroking,
mon ami,
but, baby, not right now. Let’s keep it for this evening. It’ll be good and sloppy wet for you then. Okay? Ciao now.”

Nicola hung up.
He better be a good screw, for all the trouble he’s causing
, she thought. She was happy about one thing. His call did calm her mind down. She was still a little tipsy and insanely tired after drinking and smoking so early in the morning. Nicola dragged her body upstairs to her master bedroom.

For the umpteenth time, she bumped against the pole that she had used on so many occasions to entertain Harrison. Rubbing her head, she remembered her contractor was finally coming by next week to remove it. She kicked the pole anyway and yelled at it, “Shit! What a waste of time; twirling my body up and down a goddamn pole for a motherfuckin’ faggot!” Pissed at herself and too high to undress, she fell out on the beautiful satin comforter and collapsed into a deep sleep.

When she awoke three hours later, it was eleven in the morning. She felt normal. The marijuana had worn off. She was herself again. In control. The only thing that concerned her was her healthy drive to have sex with as many men as possible. It was all she cared about. Sex helped her to totally absorb herself in the present moment and block out hateful memories.

Nicola decided Carlos’s evening visit would not be enough to quench her thirst. She needed an “appetizer.”

She thought about the young basketball player. Nicola had plans for Jonathan. The thought of deflowering a virgin was overwhelming. Thinking about him helped clear her head. She could feel an itch surface that only he could scratch. It was time for the young man to enter the kingdom of lust. Nicola would be his personal escort.

She dialed his cell phone number. The last few days he’d
stopped answering her. She was determined that today was his initiation. He would get a full dose of Nicola. She left an obviously seductive message.

Using her raspiest, sexiest voice, she purred, “Listen, Jonathan. I’m throwing Carlos a surprise party, and I want you to help me plan it. I don’t know his friends or anything like that. Come by my place, you remember where, at one o’clock. I’ll be waiting for you. Ciao, baby.”

She never doubted that he’d show. The boy was so hot, horny, and ready for picking, he’d probably come three or four times before he arrived.

But what about Carlos?

Nicola paused for a second. After the Williams Brothers, she was all for family affairs. She was sure the youngster could handle it. Carlos was too love-struck to deal with the “situation.” She hesitated and thought about the potential dilemma, the conflict of interest, but also the double delicious, lustful day she’d have fucking both of their brains out. Back to back. And if Carlos discovered her tryst with little Jonathan, well, Carlos was always telling her that he loved keeping shit in the family.

He might not have meant it quite this way, but that was for them to figure out. As Nicola saw it, her only responsibility was to encourage the young basketball star to leave at a decent hour. If he didn’t and Carlos walked in, well, thought Nicola:
As the French always say, Fuck ’em if they can’t take a joke.

With that thought, Nicola laughed out loud, as she prepared her boudoir for a full day of lust.

S
weat poured from Jonathan’s temples as he approached the end of his treadmill session. He thought about his mother’s jammin’, state-of-the art equipment in her basement, and laughed. He had traveled two hours on the subway to do what he could have done when he first rolled out the bed this morning. But he wanted to be here in Harlem. He wanted to be near Nicola.

A buzzing vibration in his jogging pants pocket signaled that he had a call. He pulled his cell phone out and discovered it was Nicola. What could she possibly want? He didn’t answer. Every cell in his eighteen-year-old virgin rod wanted him to pick up the call. He’d successfully dodged her the last few days, and she’d called him at least three times a day. Afraid what the messages might say or rather, lead to, he’d never listened to them.

But today he could not resist temptation. He listened. Surprisingly, her message was very innocent. He was almost ashamed of himself for not answering her calls. A surprise party for Carlos. Maybe she wasn’t after him sexually after all. She may just be a friendly woman, who performed blow jobs on all her boyfriends’ brothers. Anything more than that was strictly forbidden.

That last thought thoroughly depressed him. He wanted more. He’d settle for more of the same if necessary. But he quickly
erased those sentiments. No, Nicola was a straight shooter. If she said she just wanted help with the party, that’s all she wanted. There would be no repeat of last Saturday’s events.

The past week after the concert, Jonathan had felt like a zombie in heat. His performance at practice bordered on horrible. One of the coaches pulled him aside and gave him a serious, “step up your game or step to the curb” speech. Not wanting to screw up his opportunity, he’d immediately snapped out of his “I finally had my first blow job and I want some more of the same” funk.

Every time he pissed, just the sight of his own organ made images of Nicola’s mouth around its shaft resurface. He got erections that made his trips to the bathroom last longer than he’d planned. He hid in the stall and had to release himself. It was the only way he could finish basketball practice. At home, he emptied three jars of Vaseline.

It was noon. He had to hurry. Her message said to be there at one o’clock. Lateness was not an option. He threw his phone into his gym bag and in Superman-speed fashion, prepared for his meeting with Nicola. Applying deodorant and cologne almost too generously, Jonathan was extremely thankful that his high school coach had always advised his players to keep a well-stocked gym bag whenever they were on a road trip. Now he understood why. Jonathan could tell it was for those times you might get lucky with a girl.

He changed into a casual, cream-colored outfit he had purchased in one of the small African American-owned boutiques on Fulton Street in the Fort Green section of Brooklyn. Slipping on a pair of leather sandals, a quick glance at a mirror confirmed that he’d put everything on in an appropriate fashion. Jonathan couldn’t help but smile. Even he thought he looked good.