Nympho (19 page)

“No, I just want you to feel good.” He turned me down. I couldn't believe it.

“You know what freaks like me want. Get undressed and let's fuck,” I insisted.

“You know what I'd really like?”

“What?”

“To watch you masturbate.”

“Why are you playing so hard to get? Masturbate! I'm trying to suck and fuck something. You acted like you were down to play at first,” I said, getting annoyed.

“I am down. I'm just into voyeurism. It's my thing.”

Usually, I have to beat men off with a stick when Innocence is doing her thing. His nonchalant attitude frustrated me and made me want him more. I didn't ask his permission to unbuckle his pants to free his dick—I just started doing my thing. Next, I inserted my vibrator inside of myself with one hand and sucked my fingers with the other. After I did, his hands started roaming over my nude body, and he began to massage my back. It was so intense that I began working my hips into the sheet covering the mattress while grinding, grinding, grinding and continuing to yank on his penis. The more he hardened, the more I stared at it and smacked my hips against the bed like a machine. I imagined his tall erect twelve-incher could lead me to a place where I longed to be—orgasm city. My stereotype regarding little, itty-bitty, white men went flying out of the window. All black men aren't well endowed, and I guessed not all white men are packing pencil peckers. The proof was wrapped around the fingers of my left hand.
A dick is a dick.

The stranger continued massaging my back, digging his hands into it. I couldn't manage to get off with no penetration or licking, so I resumed smacking my hips against the bed, salivating and imagining that the bartender's large tool was giving me something worth losing my mind over. I picked up the box of condoms, pushed one in his direction, and closed my eyes, expecting him to change his mind about merely watching my body react to being teased.

“I have one small suggestion for you to sleep on tonight—don't get married,” he told me. My eyes sprung open and my mouth shut. I felt the tension in my back collect. “How would your man feel if he were here to see what you were up to? If your heart isn't in it, don't do it. Obviously you haven't gotten the idea of cheating out of your system.”

I let go of his penis and was about to respond but his phone rang. He merely listened to the caller while never saying more than, “I'll be there in a minute, babe.”

I wiped the saliva from the left corner of my mouth, too shocked to say anything. The man hung up his phone and placed it on the night table. I began to feel powerless and frustrated, when he chided me.

“When you play games with love, someone's gonna end up hurt. Marriage is a serious commitment. I know I don't know you, but I feel like I can tell you this. Something tells me you aren't here with your brother. If you don't think you're compatible with your intended, be honest about it. Things will get real ugly if you don't get a grip,” he said.

I sat up in bed with my breasts exposed. “Who are you to tell me shit? You pour, mix, and shake drinks for a living—what do you know? You played with this knowing that I'm getting hitched, and now you wanna play the preacher man?” I told him, struggling to redeem my power.

“Look, the easier choice may seem to be an affair because you'll keep your family together. Why go through with this with the possibility of divorcing and changing everyone's lives if it all gets out of hand? I'm trying to save you some heartache.”

“Your morals are no different than mine. You're just as shady. It's just like a man to exercise a double standard. Men sow their wild oats right up until it's time for them to take the plunge and it's accepted. If women are supposed to accept the ritual, so should men! Get out and take your ass home to your girlfriend, while you're at it. You don't know me, and you don't know my man. He and I can make it if we try, so mind your damned business and stop acting like you're my shrink. I invited you up here for sex, not a dissertation on the state of morality and marriage in America. People in glass houses should never throw stones. If you thought something was wrong with you and me sharing some intimate time together, you shouldn't have marched your pink ass up here. I'm getting married to my fine black king tomorrow, and that's my business, not yours. Get out, Vanilla Ice! You're not going to curse my blessing!” I yelled, throwing every single condom in his direction.

He quickly stuffed his dick in his pants and buckled his belt. “You're out of control. You're crazy!” he said.

“Go ahead, leave then! Just get out!” I yelled, jumping up in his face. “I can get paid to have sex with men. I don't have to put up with you playing games! Black men are crazy, and so are white men. In fact, you're probably nothing but white trash that changed your mind about fucking a sista!” I taunted as he proceeded to walk out of the room.

Although I was trying to antagonize him, he stayed calm. When the door slammed the bartender faded into a faint, distant memory.

Just like I said, black men are crazy, and so are white men. If I had been smart, I would've been engaged to a Martian, but those sorts of thoughts were all behind me. This was my last opportunity to fool around before getting the man I “really” wanted, even if the man I wanted couldn't put it down under the sheets. I was determined to take this opportunity to get mine. I scrolled through the phone book in my cell phone, found Deja's number and called her, hoping to cheer myself up. I figured I'd see if she was available to give me a much-needed orgasm. If a man couldn't understand, something told me a woman like Deja could.

 

To my surprise, Deja more than shared my same spirit of adventure. She brought pot, liquor, and leftovers from dinner with her. We did a lot of female bonding, talking about marriage, life, and friendship. After we loosened up, she strapped on a dildo and fucked me as good as a man with the real thing. I loved the way she manhandled me. It was a beautiful thing. In fact, I even told her my real name. I thought she and I were on the same page of the same book until she started talking while she pumped her toy in and out of my vagina. Now I see why men want women to shut up and just fuck! All sorts of things get twisted when words get in the way. She slipped and said too much . . . and so did I!

“I'm so glad you called because I really miss my girlfriend. Her husband tore her out of my life the night you met us, Leslie. Then my husband and I had a terrible fight over something else,” she said. “If you'd let me take you on an erotic journey with one of my toys, it would turn me on to do it.”

“Oh yeah? Like what?” I asked drawing up on a toke the way she taught me. It was my first time trying any sort of drug—even herb.

“I love putting a big old strap-on harness and fucking a nice wet pussy . . . like his sister's. That's what this fight was over, his little sister who goes to the Black Harvard. If men in this area would do right, we wouldn't be forced to turn to each other, and college girls wouldn't be in bed with other women in their dorms.”

Her statement took me by surprise, but I was so horny I put out the joint and bent over to let Deja show me what skills she was working with.

“Damn! Oh shit!” I screamed as Deja gently slid the fake penis in and out of my vagina, hitting it doggy style.

The egg shaped knob of the double-ended dildo allowed Deja to get off at the same time she inserted the long end inside of me. We both began moaning and panting in tandem, compliments of something Deja said was called the vibrating FeelDoe Silicon Harness Dildo. At that point we began making so much noise someone began banging on the wall next door. Deja and I continued doing our thing, just not quite as loud.

“I'm going to leave him. Hell, I don't want dick anymore—I prefer giving it. What does it take for a man to get my attention? A fine woman like you sitting or standing right next to him. Thanks for opening my eyes to what I really want. The good part is I'll be committed to you in every way—from your comfort down to me introducing you to whole grain pasta. No drama, no games. I'll be here for you—you can expect the best from me, sweet baby. Wouldn't you like that? I love turning out mature married chicks. Fuck men, just fuck 'em!”

After she told me that, all bets were off. I was trying to uncomplicated my life, not add to the drama.

“Whoa, whoa, Deja. Baby? Pasta offers? Slow your roll. I didn't expect to spend the night getting off and learning how good you've been pussy whipping another woman long term. I hope you don't have a problem with that, but I'm not exactly interested in you showing off your culinary skills in your gourmet kitchen. Although I've discovered I do enjoy how you get down, I'm not a lesbian and never will be, sweetie. My sex life needed a boost, that's all.”

“You're just like him! You don't believe anything I say. You just want me for my body!”

She started picking up things and throwing them around the room—glasses, the clock, the remote—whatever she could get her hands on. After she finished she began crying hysterically, and banged her head against the wall about six times. Then she ran out of the room and threatened to jump off the roof of what I think was a twenty story building. Deja stormed into a waiting elevator, in search of a way out, and I was scared her crazy ass was going to take it.

“Calm down, Deja. Please, just calm down,” I begged, jumping in behind her. She pressed the button with the highest number.

“I'm jumping! I'm jumping,” she screamed. “I can't do this anymore. You're the last person who will use Deja.”

I found a button to stop the elevator and turned on my award-winning actress charm.

“Honey, all of this right here is not necessary. I know you've been hurt, and I do care about you beyond the physical.” I grabbed her head and placed it on my shoulder.

“Do you really care about me?”

“Of course, I care,” I lied, patting her back. I rolled my eyes. The last thing I needed was a fresh piece of road kill who some witness may be able to trace back to my company.

As Deja remained in my arms sobbing and begging for a piece of my heart, I felt like screaming from that hotel rooftop.
I was only trying to get off
! Instead, I took her back to my room and rocked her back and forth in my arms like a baby. Revealing how I really felt wouldn't have done an ounce of good. The last thing I needed was a lipstick lesbian version of Rico who swore I was the apple of her eye. Nevertheless, every sign that Deja more than fit the bill of an unstable chick was looking me in the face. If I had a straight jacket, it would've come in very handy. Thanks to the suicidal tantrum she threw, I only got an hour and forty minutes of sleep before my wedding day. Little did I know Deja's pot was laced with something much stronger than I'd ever imagined.

I
n between yawning and noting my sensitivity to light and sound, I talked to Trey and began to panic about the state of my wedding affairs. As we drove to the church, he assured me that everything was under control, and that Tanya had done her part to tie up the loose ends with the wedding planner while I was recovering from the “miscarriage.” I slid on sunglasses to ward off sunlight after using damn near a quarter of a bottle of Visine to cover up my red eyes, courtesy of my late night of smoking pot with the bisexual drama queen. The consequences for getting buck wild with a “fun one” entailed convincing her that I'd call her as soon as I set foot off of the plane from my honeymoon.

In addition to sleep deprivation, I was suffering from a hell of a hangover. Even so, I felt at ease. My life was about to change for the better—Trey wasn't Mr. Everything but he wasn't exactly a slouch, either. After I reassessed everything, in a twisted sort of a way, I understood that I did need him. I suddenly felt the need to have a tight pussy for Trey, so I inserted the Ben-Wa balls that I'd begun using periodically, to tighten my PC muscles. To be honest, I'd been screwing so much, a train could've passed through my hot box!

My big debut had arrived. Inside, I was doing a happy dance because I was out of touch with the world and all of the problems within it. I wasn't thinking about the liquor on my breath, the hickey I forgot to cover up with make up, or my family who managed to track me down and sit at the ceremony. I wondered how they did it until I put two and two together. Nosey Angela most likely lifted an invitation from the stack of extras I had piled on my dining room table. At least my family wasn't bothering me to be in the wedding though. I also wasn't thinking about Rico. He had no choice but to let bygones be bygones. I wasn't thinking about Tanya doubting I had a hysterectomy; she was a true blue Christian and wouldn't hold that sort of grudge. I wasn't thinking about Trey finding out what Innocence had done. I was finally getting my ring, and now Trey would have no excuse not to give me some. I wasn't thinking about a damn thing but marching down the aisle to change my name from Leslie Thompson to Leslie Williams.

The photographer began taking pictures of the blushing bride to create photo albums full of memories. As cameras clicked, I marched down the aisle with a smile plastered on my face. I had to pull an old beauty queen trick I'd heard about and rub Vaseline on my teeth just so I could remember to do it. Everyone remarked how beautiful I looked . . . until the inevitable happened in front of the entire staff of the high school where I worked and the pastor and elders in my church. At some point, the light from the flashes ripped my ability to wear my sober mask to shreds. Feeling lost in space, I officially fell apart, couldn't control my hangover, and began walking in a zigzag pattern. I had no idea how apparent my stagger was, but no one said a word—perhaps their silence said it all. I finally reached Trey and the minister, and the ceremony went by in a blur until he reached those dreaded words.

“If anyone here has a reason why this couple should not be joined in holy matrimony, speak now or forever hold your peace,” the minister said in a strong, clear voice.

The room was silent. Just before the reverend was about to proceed with the ceremony, a voice spoke.

“I want to say something here,” the voice standing near me said. “As a devoted lawyer, and upstanding member of the community, I can't let this go on in good faith. I'm sorry I have to do this, but I can't let my brother marry that woman. Unfortunately, some information an anonymous source entrusted me with fell into my hands a few moments ago—now I must bring it to Trey's attention. She's a stripper, a whore, obviously a drunk, and the wholesome life you people think she's living is a great big lie. I have evidence that this, this,
woman
, is notorious—I have the guts to expose her filth for the sake of my best friend, Trey.”

I watched an image appear on the wall behind us. As the movie played, I watched myself walking to the abortion clinic, having sex with the policemen, and even kissing Maxwell after leaving my little stripping gig. Everyone gasped. There was no way for me to defend myself, so I opted to expose Rico too, however my hangover slowed down my ability to respond quickly.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Now who was it on the screen with me? You tell them. You tell them, Rico. Ask Tanya, Trey!”

“You killed my baby,” Trey screamed. “You killed my baby! I was supposed to be a father! Plus, you've been sleeping around, you lush!”

Despite my throbbing head, I managed to fall into Rico's trap and speed up my thinking enough to confess my mess in front of a sardine packed church.

“I had an abortion, and I had no choice. You wouldn't pay attention to me.”

“I was saving money for after the wedding, working seventy-hour weeks. I wanted us to have a sizeable cushion for our future—to do right by my wife.
That's
why I was so busy. I don't feel one ounce of pity for you—that's what you get for cheating on me—I know all about it.” Trey turned to the crowd. “I want to thank everyone for coming out today, and as a token of my appreciation, I have a special gift taped to the bottom of the pew for each guest. Several moans and groans filled the room as guests began looking at 8X10 glossy photos. Suddenly there were four hundred pair of disapproving eyes fixed in my direction.

“That's right, everyone. As you can see, the best man was breaking off my bride-to-be behind my back.”

“Rico was the one who said you were cheating on me—that's how all of this started. I thought you didn't care about us anymore when you stopped giving me emotional support and real quality time. Everything seemed to come before Leslie, and I got tired of waiting for you to give me affection. You stopped telling me about your work schedule and even stood me up to be with your boys or your momma. He's behind this. Why do you think the faces of the movie you just saw were blackened out? This is all revenge because he and his police friends are in big trouble for running a train on me. I'm the victim here,” I said, trying to defend myself as my secret double life began to flood to the surface.

Trey turned back around.

“If you don't believe me, ask Tanya. I was pregnant by him and that's why I had to get rid of the baby. Rico has been stalking, blackmailing, and terrorizing me. I never wanted to have sex with him. He made me do it one day when you weren't home. How could I manage to tell you that your best friend raped me?” I lied.

“You didn't look like you were being raped in those pictures the P.I. took! Tanya was suspicious and the private investigator she hired after you and Rico first started having an affair never stopped following you,
everywhere
, Leslie. None of that matters though. Tanya and I eloped. We got married two days ago at the Justice of the Peace. I wanted a good Christian woman in my life and now I've got one. I wasn't going to go through with marrying you, Leslie. There was just no way! I went along with the whole charade after I found out what you did with Rico. Since everything was paid for, I wanted to see how far you'd go,” Trey explained. “And by the way, I found that condom you were carrying in your purse after you supposedly lost my baby. I marked it and noticed a new one had replaced it. Don't think I didn't notice the gold post office box key on your ring and that I didn't hear you mumbling men's names in your sleep. When I heard you call Rico's name, I knew you were just up to your same old thing that caused my bed slat to break.”

The crowd gasped again. Chatter increased in volume. Tears began to flow from my eyes as I felt an incredible sense of humiliation over the fact that I'd been set up and conspired against. I felt abandoned by Trey, and I hated how it felt. I was stood up at the altar, and I just couldn't believe it. Trey stopped wanting to become my husband and no longer believed our marriage could work. I often complained about him, but never in a million years would I have guessed that he would've gotten with Tanya behind my back.

“Now everyone sees this woman for what she really is,” Tanya said. “Bible study, singing in the choir, all fake! Her heart was never in it—not for one Sunday. She's an abomination to the Lord,” Tanya said, yelling at the crowd. “You deserve more love, Trey. I'm the real woman who'll give it to you right. I got
my
man!” She looked at me, jerking her neck back and forth, and then kissed Trey's lips. I cringed as she tasted the lips I once enjoyed. None of this was supposed to happen. My hurt was multiplying by the second.

“Bitch, you set me up to take my man. He doesn't love you. He loves me!” I yelled at Tanya, lunging at her in my gown, snot dripping down my lip. I smacked her as hard as I could, and then began scratching her face with my long French manicured nails which had been nicely done for the wedding.

Rico began laughing. Trey turned toward him and clocked him in the face. Rico just stood there looking stunned.

“Be out by the time we get back from the honeymoon you paid for. And move all your things out of my house to make room for my wife. I'm going on my honeymoon, with Tanya! We're outta here!” Trey hollered at me.

Feeling speechless from being humiliated, tears began streaming down my face again. I felt degraded and ashamed. The two Ben-Wa balls I'd inserted earlier fell from under my wedding gown and rolled down the aisle. I held my head with my right hand as my thoughts became even more jumbled from my unclear state of mind. I'd never smoked pot before and sharing tokes with Deja was telling on me. Little did I know that all pot is not made equal. Deja's stash was laced with crack cocaine. I found out the big surprise, after listening to a message she left the next day, asking how I enjoyed the special blend. That explained my wacky behavior but I found this out was a little too late.

The crowd gasped once more as Trey flew out of church without saying a single word. I hiked up my dress and held it with both hands as I did a piss poor job of running behind him, trying to keep from zigzagging. I followed him so closely I nearly clipped his heels. Tanya followed me, and I was sure Rico ran behind her. A crowd followed the now four bitter enemies who had once been two close couples. I tripped on the concrete. Trey opened the limo door, and Rico pulled out a small pistol from the cummerbund of his tuxedo. Trey grabbed it from Rico. Tanya wrestled to snatch it from Trey. Rico knocked out one of her teeth by elbowing her in the process, and then aimed the gun at me. When I fell down, the bullet bypassed me and hit Tanya in the chest. I screamed hysterically because my big day was ruined and was shaking the entire time, but Rico wasn't finished yet. When Trey's new wife fell, Rico looked as if he was going to shoot either Trey or me, so Trey wrestled him for the gun, trying to get it away. Rico quickly let go of the gun to make it appear as if Trey fired the deadly shot, when we heard blaring sirens and saw a cop car pull up. Trey stood dumbfounded, holding the gun as Rico threw up his hands to make it appear as if Trey was attempting to shoot him too.

“Don't shoot me, too. Don't do it!” Rico screamed, backing into the crowd. “He killed her!” he screamed, pointing at Trey.

I was in shock and couldn't speak, although I'd seen what really happened. I'd rather not relive the ugly details of how the groom was made into the ideal suspect while Rico walked away from the scene without being charged with anything. I also prefer not to get into the range of emotions I experienced seeing Tanya's dead body hauled away. A strange thing was that right before I left, someone patted me on the ass so quickly, I didn't know who did it and why they'd done it until I recognized the cop's face. Talk about a strange day, yes it was.

Realistically, what man would publicly embarrass his fiancé, as well as himself, in a packed room of people? One who was hurt and embarrassed, that's who. The wedding was paid for, so I guess Trey figured he'd show up and sling dirt because he felt justified to vent. I feel he did so much in front of family and strangers because people will do some crazy things that don't make sense when they're hurt—I should know. Well, who would've thought there would ever be a runaway bride? Who would have guessed a bride would be kidnapped by her parents so she wouldn't marry her intended? And now
my
incredible wedding disaster. I guess you can add it to the growing list of scenarios that seemed too outrageous to be true. Although I was still very torn up, I did remember love didn't come easy to me, even on my big day. Fabulous . . . juuuust fabulous.