One Taste (5 page)

R
egina felt light-hearted and a little guilty, as if she was cheating on Matt with her new package. The vibrating penis with the clit-nibbling attachment had her all aglow and in a state of calm that was an entirely new sensation.

Poor Matt had been replaced by an inanimate object, she mused sadly. Then, mentally shifting gears, she angrily reminded herself of the years of sexual frustration and how Matt seemed content to allow her to spend the rest of her life without ever experiencing an orgasm. He was so selfish. And she was also to blame. Seeking gratification from compulsive spending on unnecessary purchases was sick. She should have seen a shrink years ago. Surely a psychiatrist would have used some psychobabble to point out that Regina’s handbag fetish was a cry for a stiff dick.

Matt was still asleep. Knowing he was probably worn out from working his two jobs all week, she didn’t want to disturb him and began dressing as quickly and quietly as possible.

On Saturdays Regina and Matt usually went out to eat or they stayed at home and ate something that was easy to prepare, but after another bout with her new sex toy, she felt hungry and was in a good enough mood to want to cook a good meal for her husband.

The moment she slipped on a pair of pumps, Matt woke up. “Where are you off to so early in the morning?”

“Shopping.”

Conveniently forgetting that he’d contributed money toward a new designer bag, he gave her a look of displeasure.

Regina smiled at her husband. “I’m going out to get something for dinner. I thought we’d have a candlelight dinner at home tonight. Are you in the mood for some seafood lasagna, sautéed vegetables, homemade rolls, and your favorite…peach cobbler?”

Matt sat up, grimacing as he scratched his head. “I’m not sure if I’m going to be home for dinner, baby. The workload is really piling up and we didn’t finish up everything last night. That crew of mine does as little as possible and you know what they say, if you want something done…”

“I know, Matt. But they’re paid to do a job. You shouldn’t have to pick up behind them.”

“That’s true, but I can’t make those good-for-nothings take pride in a business that doesn’t belong to them. Look, I’m the one who has to take the flack if folks come to work on Monday morning and find trash overflowing and floors unpolished. But don’t worry, baby. I’ve already started a proposal to get some more help. Things will be back to normal before you know it.”

Regina looked crestfallen. She was really looking forward to spending some quality time with her husband. She was looking forward to putting on some sexy lingerie and convincing him, despite his old-fashioned morality, to nibble on her clit. The thought made her laugh. But really, if he couldn’t get the job done the traditional way, maybe he should consider giving her oral sex. Hell, it was worth a try. And after twenty years of marriage, she felt that perhaps she could let go of her own inhibitions and
learn how to give her husband head. Drastic measures were necessary; their sex life was a disgrace.

“Oh yeah, I almost forgot…”

She peered at him.

“Uh…you wouldn’t happen to still have that money I gave you the other day, would you?”

“Sure, why?”

“I’m running short on cash. I didn’t realize a business owner should try to stay ahead of his taxes. My accountant said I need to pay the IRS a little something every quarter, that way I won’t get all jammed up at tax time.”

She’d looked forward to spending an evening with Matt. Resignedly, Regina opened her purse and gave him the four fifties.

Trying to figure out what to do with her unplanned free time, Regina sat on the bed, elbows resting on her knees, with her hands cupping her face.

In a flash, Matt was up and dressed. Before she even gathered her thoughts and found the words to ask Matt if they could possibly plan something for later on that evening, Matt kissed her on the cheek and galloped down the stairs.

It was a well-cared-for apartment complex. Compared to the raunchy neighborhood where he picked his crew up, the complex’s location off Providence Road, on East Twenty-fourth Street in Chester, was idyllic. They were shown two apartments. The one-bedroom was more fitting with Matt’s budget, but Onika insisted on the more expensive of the two—the one with a den and a view of the park and a running stream.

Matt filled out the paperwork, paid the deposit, and was told he could pick up the keys on Monday.

“Is my name gonna be on the lease?” Onika wanted to know.

The rental agent looked puzzled. “Why, no. The name on the lease is the person with the credit rating.” The woman looked at Matt. “Do you want me to run a credit check on your…”

“My wife,” Matt said, his face revealing his discomfort. Onika’s mouth opened in wide protest, but Matt shot her a look.

The rental agent hit some keys on a computer. “Your name?” she asked Onika.

“Regina Wheeler,” Matt blurted and then provided his wife’s social security number. Eyeing Onika suspiciously, the woman keyed in the numbers.

After a few moments, she said, “Okay, you have A-1 credit, Mrs…uh…Wheeler, and of course your name can be added to the lease.”

“Mrs. Wheeler,” Onika repeated with mocking laughter. “Yeah, it’s cool to be on the lease and everything, but y’all better make sure you cut an extra key. As long as I have my own key, I don’t care about the lease. Feel me?” she asked the befuddled rental agent. The agent nodded uncertainly.

Before leaving the rental office, Matt made a few polite parting remarks. Impatiently, Onika looked at the time, displayed in colorful digital numbers that lit up the screen of her new device. “I’m ready when you are,” she said, screwing up her lips.

Matt gave the agent a limp smile and hurried Onika out of the office.

They left the building and walked toward the parking lot. “Damn, Mr. Wheeler. You know we still gotta go look at some furniture. Why you gotta be bustin’ it up with that white heifer like she’s somebody important. She ain’t nobody; she just works there.”

“I was being polite, Onika. What’s wrong with your attitude lately? You’ve been so edgy and unpleasant. What happened to my sweetie pie?” He gazed at her with a mixture of confusion and adoration. His fingers sought to lift her chin affectionately, but Onika dodged his touch by sharply turning her head.

“I saw a bangin’ bedroom set. It was advertised at a furniture store at the Tri-State Mall in Claymont, Delaware,” she said with a happy lilt to her voice. “They don’t have state taxes in Delaware, so you can probably save a stack. Wanna go check it out?”

Matt looked troubled. “Not today, baby girl. I just put a lot of money down on our place, and…”

“I thought it was
my
place,” she interrupted.

“You know what I mean. It’s your place, but I’ll be spending a lot of time there with you.”

“So, whatchu saying? You just gonna pop over anytime you feel like it?”

“No, not at all. I’d never invade your privacy like that. I’d always call or make arrangements ahead of time.”

“So, you won’t need that extra key, will you?”

Hurt, Matt winced. “I’d like to have a key, Onika. Suppose something happens…an emergency or something? Don’t you think it would be a good idea for me to have the extra key? And as I said, I would never use it without your permission.”

Onika murmured unhappily.

“Anything special you’d like to do with the rest of our day, sweetheart?” he asked, putting his arm around her.

“I told you what I want to do,” she snapped. “I guess you expect me to sleep on the floor or something.”

“Onika,” Matt said patiently. “You’ll have a bedroom set. I know some places that sell like-new furniture. I’ll pick up a set for you next week.”

“Why can’t I pick out my own bedroom set? And what makes you think I wanna sleep on something that a bunch of other niggas been sleeping on? I don’t want no used damn furniture. You’re full of shit. You promised to give me a couple hundred for pocket money, now you crying broke and can’t even buy me new furniture.”

“Baby—” Matt reached for her but Onika jerked away.

Conveying her displeasure, she poked out her lips and pulled out her cell. “Yo, let me speak to that new blackout—um, what’s her name?” Onika looked upward as she tried to recall the blackout’s name. “You know,” she spat into the phone, sounding annoyed that the person on the other end of the phone didn’t immediately provide her with the name of the person she wanted to talk to. “The one who came in last night dressed in them hot-ass winter clothes.” Onika giggled at the memory. “Nicole! Yeah, that’s her name.” Onika cut an eye at Matt, who looked unhappy and confused. “She ain’t there? Where the hell she at? Oh, my bad. I forgot the blackouts had to go to four meetings today. Well, what time do you expect her to be back? Oh, okay. Well, do me a favor?” Onika yelled into the phone. “I’ll be back at the house in a short. Tell Nicole I need her to do my hair.” She ended the call, and then tucked the cell inside her purse. She gave Matt a smug smile.

“Since you can’t afford to get my hair done, I made other arrangements. One of the blackouts is gonna do my hair. But I have to wash and condition it myself, so let’s go. Drop me off at the womens’ house,” she said snidely.

Matt glanced down at his watch anxiously. “You’re ready to leave me already? I made plans to spend the day with you.”

“Sorry,” she said dryly. She smoothed back the coarse hair at
her temples. “I need a perm. I can’t go around another day with my hair looking like this.”

“If I give you the money to get your hair done, can you spend some time with me?” he asked pitifully.

She pondered the question. “I guess…but I’m gonna need eighty dollars.”

“Eighty dollars! Onika, my wife only spends fifty dollars at the hair salon.”

Onika shot Matt a look that made him recoil. “I don’t give a fuck what your dumb-ass wife spends on her hair. She’s probably getting something fucked up like a press and curl. And don’t be comparing me to no other bitches. My ’do costs eighty dollars. Either you got it or you don’t. You told me I was getting two hundred dollars, you should be glad I’m only hitting you up for eighty.” She rolled her eyes. “Fuck it. Keep your damn money.” Onika turned abruptly and started walking fast toward Matt’s car.

“Onika!” he yelled.

Onika ignored him and stomped toward the car.

“Onika! Baby!” he yelled louder as hastened his steps to catch up with her.

Onika suddenly stopped and jerked around angrily. “Stop fuckin’ calling my name all loud out in public. I thought we was supposed to be keeping this shit on the low.” She sucked her teeth and then shot an ominous look at the upper windows of the apartment building. Matt followed her upward gaze.

“Nigga’s up there peepin’ this shit,” she warned him. “They looking at your dumb ass, acting all stupid and shit…” Onika paused, grimacing in disgust. “Running after me; screaming my name, puttin’ me on blast.” She blew out a disgusted burst of air. “Damn, nigga, you need to get a fuckin’ grip.”

O
nika’s pleasant disposition had changed overnight. Matthew Wheeler had never experienced such glaring disrespect, not from a man and certainly not from a woman. But what could he do? She had a hold on him and she knew it. She was the only woman who could get his dick hard. He needed her. He’d just have to have a stiff upper lip and endure her volcanic tantrums.

Onika leaned impatiently against the passenger door, shifting her weight from one foot to the other—huffing and puffing as she waited for Matt to unlock the door. Instead of doing so, he approached her. There was a long silence as he stood next to her. He was in a quandary as to how to improve her mood and get her to spend some time with him.

She gave a low hollow laugh. “You gonna unlock the door or are we just gonna stand out here like two assholes?”

Matt had never felt so helpless in his life. He didn’t want to take Onika back to the Recovery House, but he couldn’t afford to keep doling out cash. It seemed no matter what he did, it wasn’t enough; she always wanted more. He thought he earned enough money to afford a girl on the side, but with Onika’s ever-increasing needs, he was going to have to triple his income to keep her happy.

Resignedly, Matt relented. He gave Onika two of the fifty-dollar bills he’d gotten from his wife earlier that morning. “You hungry, baby—wanna stop somewhere and get something to eat?” he asked meekly.

She shook her head adamantly. “Hell no!” She peered at the money. “Now I can afford to go to a real hair stylist instead of letting that new blackout mess up my hair with a bad perm. I gotta call the beauty salon and see what time my hair stylist can fit me in.” She pulled out the cell and started pushing numbers. Matt looked close to tears as he listened to her make arrangements to visit the salon.

“She can see me in an hour,” she said brightly, as if she were giving Matt good news. “Can you give me a ride to Yeadon?”

Matt covered Onika’s hand with his and gently squeezed it. “I thought we were going to spend some quality time together. Can’t you push your appointment back a few hours?”

“My stylist don’t play that shit,” she snapped, pulling her hand from his grasp. “I’m lucky she can squeeze me in with such short notice.” Then, noticing Matt’s woebegone expression, Onika softened her tone. “Look, we ain’t got a whole lot of time to get a room, but I know a spot not too far from here in Crozier Park. It’s real private; nobody will bother us there.”

Matt squinted skeptically. “You want to have sex outside in the park?”

“No, asshole. I was talking about doing it in the car.”

Matt winced at being called an asshole, but he took the insult without comment. His eyes traveled over her attire. “But you’re wearing jeans. How will we manage?” he asked, apprehensive.

Onika arched a brow. “Damn, why you gotta question everything? You’re really fuckin’ up my mood.” She sucked her teeth.
“For your information—” Onika paused, and then sighed heavily—“there’s a little split in the crotch of my jeans.” She waited for Matt to respond. He gave her a blank look. “Let me break it down for you…if you promise to buy me another pair, I’ll rip the split wide open.”

He was speechless. Onika’s demand for more money was outrageous. She was really working him over and he was helpless to deny her.

“Why you acting all quiet? If I rip open my jeans, are you gonna buy me another pair?”

“Maybe you shouldn’t rip your good jeans…” he stammered, hoping he sounded concerned about destroying a perfectly good pair of jeans when he was actually desperate to hold on to his remaining cash.

“They’re already ripped, dickhead,” she screamed at him. “You’re so fuckin’ stingy. Too cheap to buy me a twenty-dollar pair of jeans. I don’t need this bullshit. Open the fuckin’ door,” she shouted and then folded her long arms defiantly.

“Onika. I don’t appreciate the language you’re using. I was only suggesting that it would be a waste of money to deliberately destroy your clothing. I don’t mind buying another pair but it seems an unnecessary cost when you can easily pull your pants down.”

“Why should I pull them down? It ain’t like you gonna fuck me or nothing. All you can do is eat pussy. I was trying to make it convenient for you. But you don’t appreciate nothing. Shit, I was prepared to let you eat my pussy for an hour. Well, maybe not a whole hour because I gotta get my hair done, but I was gonna let you suck on it for at least a half-hour or so. But fuck it, you obviously don’t like the way my stuff tastes.” She spun
around and faced the passenger door. “Open the fuckin’ door and take me back to the Recovery House,” she exploded as she yanked on the door handle.

If he took Onika back to the womens’ house, he’d end up with nothing to show for the money he’d already given her. Not to mention the down payment he’d put on the apartment. Realizing it was in his best interest to give her twenty dollars more, Matt reached in his pocket and produced a crinkled bill. “Here, baby. Here’s some more money.”

“I don’t want it,” she said with her back to him. “You get on my nerves so bad, I swear to God, you make me want to get high again.”

Her threat was effective. Matt approached her from behind and pushed the twenty into the back pocket of her jeans. He pressed up against her lean buttocks and whispered in her ear, “When I get my tongue inside those jeans, I’m going to show you how much I love the way you taste.”

Onika spun around. “You’re so good to me. I’m sorry I cussed at you, Mr. Wheeler. I got a real bad temper. But from now on, I promise, I’m gonna try my best to keep it in check.”

“It’s okay, baby. I know you been through a lot in your young life. Kicking a drug habit and staying straight can’t be easy. If I was giving you the kind of sex you deserve you wouldn’t get so frustrated.” Matt squeezed Onika’s arm reassuringly. “Until I start satisfying you like a real man, you have my permission to lash out at me. I can hold up against a little profanity. I’d rather you curse at me than take out your frustration by getting high again.”

Onika looked absolutely gleeful. “You don’t mind if I cuss you out from time to time?”

Matt shook his head solemnly.

“For real, Mr. Wheeler?”

“You can cuss me out if you need to, baby,” he said in a martyred tone.

Onika squealed in delight. “You’re so understanding, Mr. Wheeler. See, now you’re giving me something I can work with. I can’t be keeping my emotions all pent up inside. When I get mad, I gotta get shit off my chest.”

Pleased that Onika no longer seemed angry, Matt added, “I respect your honesty, Onika.”

She sighed wistfully. “Maybe it’s the freak in me, but for some reason, my pussy got all hot and bothered when you said you want me to cuss you out until you start fucking me like a real man.”

He hadn’t actually said he
wanted
her to belittle him with profanity, but he didn’t bother to correct Onika. Hopefully, after a long sip of her juices, he’d be able to sustain a mighty erection and then he’d show her who really wore the pants.

After Matt unlocked the door, Onika eagerly slid into the passenger seat.

“You really scared me, baby.”

Confused, Onika squinted at him.

“I shouldn’t have hesitated when you expressed the desire to make love in the park. It’s clear that I’m going to have to act more spontaneous. I’m going to have to stop behaving like an old man.” He shook his head ruefully.

“You don’t have to step your game up, Mr. Wheeler. I like you just the way you are,” she said, giving him a tolerant smile.

“But you admitted that it bothers you that I’ve yet to make love to you the way you deserve.”

Onika shook her head. “I was talkin’ shit because I was mad. I don’t think nobody’s dick can make me cum the way your tongue does.”

Matt brightened visibly. “That makes me feel slightly better. But I want to make love to you, Onika. A man shouldn’t have to rely on oral skills to keep his woman happy.”

A spark of sudden anger flashed in Onika’s eyes. “Look, I already said I was happy. Your dick issues ain’t my problem. Now if you don’t wanna eat no more pussy just say so!”

“Baby,” Matt said softly, cajolingly, and then patted her arm. “I love performing oral sex on you.” He chuckled suddenly. “I tell myself that your juices give me youth and stamina.”

Onika’s sour expression morphed to a beaming smile. “Get outta here.” She sounded flattered. “You really think I got some youth juice up in my pussy?”

Matt nodded. “You don’t realize it, but my penis gets as hard as iron. I’m like a horny eighteen-year-old when I have your taste in my mouth. Nobody, not even my wife, can make me feel as youthful and virile as you do.”

“That’s whassup, Mr. Wheeler,” Onika said, beaming with pride. “So, look…” her voice trailed off as she stared into space.

“What?” Matt asked.

“On Monday while the crew is hard at work, you and me gon’ sneak off and jet back to my new apartment. If you want me to, I can sit on your face and let you stick your tongue in my hole for the whole shift,” she offered.

The promise of unlimited access to her snatch and its sweet elixir gave Matt a rush of warmth. In fact, he could feel his mem
ber stiffening at the very thought of giving Onika a serious tongue-job. Excited, he started the car and swung out of the lot.

A few minutes later, Matt pulled into a secluded area in the park. He felt conspicuous in broad daylight, but Onika assured him that nobody ever ventured into the area. He wanted to ask her how she knew with such certainty, but decided he didn’t really want to know the answer.

She tumbled into the backseat. Like a contortionist, she pulled up both legs and pressed them into her chest. She didn’t have on panties, and her vagina was fully visible and accessible through the split in the crotch of her jeans.

The sight was so erotic, blood instantly rushed to Matt’s shaft and it was harder than ever before. Afraid he’d lose his erection, he decided to forgo cunnilingus. He quickly unzipped his pants and released his penis. Seeing his member fully erect was such a beautiful sight, he couldn’t help but admire it.

“Come on, Mr. Wheeler, whatchu waiting for?” Onika shouted impatiently.

Instantly, his dick went soft in his hand. Not wanting to incur Onika’s ire if he dawdled trying to get his dick back up, he resignedly positioned his head between her legs and began to gently lick her labia. If he worked slowly, perhaps the hard-on would return.

Onika squirmed away. “Whatchu doin’? The way you licking my coochie feels nasty and creepy as shit. Stop playing around, Mr. Wheeler. Eat my pussy like you got some damn sense,” she shouted and then banged her kneecaps hard against the sides of his head. His eardrums rang from the sudden blow.

Her abuse had escalated from verbal to physical, but Matt accepted it as just punishment. A young girl deserved a man who
could lay heavy pipe, not an impotent, practically middle-aged loser.

Determinedly, he stiffened his tongue and probed long and hard, until he felt the heat from her pussy warming his tongue. As spasms jerked her body, he separated her labia and slipped his limp penis into the gooey warmth. It would have been thrilling to be able to drive his dick inside deeply, but it was too soft to achieve proper penetration.

Rubbing the head of his dick into her creamy cum, he became surprisingly rigid. The time had come to fuck Onika’s brains out. Elated, Matt attempted to penetrate. But he was so excited he quickly climaxed, too quickly to experience any pleasure from the experience. He was so disappointed, he punched the back of the driver’s seat.

“Goddamn. You ain’t gotta take out your frustration on the car seat.” Onika glared at him, then reached her lanky body over the passenger seat to grab the box of tissues that Matt kept in the glove compartment.

“I let you bust a nut but you still gotta act like a damn asshole,” she mumbled as she used a wad of tissues to wipe between her legs.

He couldn’t blame Onika for her complete loss of respect for him. He wasn’t handling his business right. If he could maintain an erection and give her the hard dick a man was supposed to provide, certainly he’d regain the respect she once had for him. Until then, he’d have to accept that he deserved her contempt.

His wife’s suggestion that he think about getting a prescription for Viagra was starting to sound appealing.