Scandalicious (17 page)

“Don’t worry about that; we’ll get it done,” Solay assured her, wondering how in the hell she’d pull off such a monumental task without shutting down Scandalicious for a week.

“Would you like some more water?” Vidal came to the table with a pitcher of water. Ms. Blalock’s glass was half-filled, and that was a good excuse for Vidal to mosey over to find out if Solay had sealed the deal.

“No, thanks. I’m fine.”

“Milk or juice?” He wasn’t giving up easily.

Solay gave him a dirty look, forcing him to skulk back to his station, leaving her in privacy to woo the potential big-money client.

“How far in advance will you have to bake them? I want them to taste as fresh as these.” Ms. Blalock motioned to the empty cupcake liners and the crumbs that were left on the tray. “Will you have to freeze them? I don’t like that defrosted taste.” Her eyebrows were drawn together in concern.

Boy, this lady is a tough sale.
“I would never serve cupcakes that weren’t of the highest quality.”

Anita Blalock stood. “Okay, young lady, I’m sold!”

Yay, hallelujah, thank God!
Solay was turning cartwheels in her mind. They agreed upon a price—an astronomical amount—and Ms. Blalock gave Solay a check for the deposit.

Solay could be living on Easy Street if she could drum up this kind of business on a regular basis.

After walking Ms. Blalock to the door, Solay turned around, and
grinned from ear to ear. “We got it!” She raised her hand to give Vidal a high-five, but he sucked his teeth, obviously brooding.

“Oh, now it’s
we
all of a sudden. It was all about you a few minutes ago.”

“I don’t like your tone, Vidal.”

“What’s wrong with my tone? You don’t like it when I speak my mind, cuz you know I’m right—expecting me to jump up and high-five after you gave me your butt to kiss.”

“Vidal, you’re so theatrical—blowing everything out of proportion.”

“I’m not your friend,” he said, sounding like a spoiled toddler. Sulking, he poked out his lips. He even folded his arms to punctuate his displeasure.

Having had enough of Vidal’s brooding mood, Solay burst into the kitchen to share the news with Melanee.

“May I please be excused, Master? Thank you, Master?” Melanee whispered into the phone and then stuck it inside of her apron pocket. Wearing a pained expression, Melanee looked at Solay. “So, how’d the tasting session go?”

Startled into silence, Solay didn’t speak for a moment. After regaining her composure, she found her voice. “Uh, the tasting went great. I got the contract.” Solay tried to sound as normal as possible, but it was a struggle after those crazy words that had come out of Melanee’s mouth.

Solay shook her head. She turned around and left the kitchen. She marched straight upstairs to the sanity of her own apartment. In the living room, she sank into a chair.

What the hell kind of freaky shit is Melanee into?
It struck Solay that Melanee might be having phone sex, right there in the kitchen of Scandalicious.
Ew!

M
elanee refused to feel embarrassed. Solay had overheard her speaking to Colden. She’d used Colden’s appropriate title, and Solay looked appalled. Then her boss scampered out of the kitchen—getting as far away from Melanee as she could.

Initially, Melanee was going to make up a lie—tell Solay that she was only kidding around with one of her friends. But she changed her mind and kept her mouth shut. She didn’t owe Solay an explanation. Melanee laughed to herself, imagining Solay’s horror if she knew the actual truth about her lifestyle.

Solay thought love was about dinner dates and receiving flowers, but she didn’t know shit. Love was total submission. Love was whips and chains. And intricately knotted ropes.

Ah!
A swirling hot current moved between her legs. Weak in the knees, she reminisced about last night. Colden had spanked her with a miniature paddle. Pussy paddling was something he’d never done before. Melanee glistened with sweat, remembering the pressure and the sting of that small wooden paddle against her clit and outer lips. With each whack, pussy juice streamed out of her vagina. When she shouted that she was coming, Colden had lovingly inserted the rubber-covered handle of the paddle deep inside her clenching depths.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Vidal demanded, catching Melanee with her eyes closed, and her head thrown back as she relived the moment.

She gasped. Her eyes popped open. “You scared me, Vidal.” Melanee smoothed down her apron.

“You scared me, bitch!” Vidal scrutinized Melanee, looked her up and down sneeringly. “What were you doing? From your expression, it seemed like you were having an orgasm, but I don’t know how that’s possible since you didn’t have your hand stuck between your legs.”

“Vidal, please. Your imagination is running wild. I was lost in thought when you came in here.” Shaking her head, she brushed past him. She gathered up cupcake tins, mixing bowls, measuring cups, whisks, spoons, and other utensils, and began stacking them into the dishwasher.

“Well, I’m no psychic, but I’m willing to bet good money that whatever you were thinking about had sexual connotations.” He turned up his nose. “And nothing normal. You were thinking about some raunchy filth!”

Melanee’s phone vibrated in her pocket. She didn’t have time to go back and forth with Vidal. “If Solay comes down, tell her I’m right outside—taking a break.” She raced out of the kitchen.

“This place is a nut house,” Vidal said, following Melanee out of the kitchen. The customers seated in the dining area turned their attention to Vidal.

“Working here is like pulling down a shift in a mental hospital. If I stick around here, I’ma end up on medication. Y’all think I’m playing, but I’m serious as a heart attack.” Though the patrons didn’t know what he was talking about, they indulged him with tinkles of polite laughter.

Frowning in condemnation, Vidal observed Melanee standing outside of the bakery, her cell phone pressed against her ear.

He would have really had something to talk about if he’d been able to hear her delighted greeting when she answered her phone, saying, “Yes, Master?”

“Madam Midnight is going to give you another chance. She wants to see you tonight at nine. Don’t fuck this up,” Colden said sharply.

“I won’t; I’ll call SEPTA and get the schedule for the three buses I have to ride. I’ll be punctual; I promise.”

“You don’t have to ride any buses this time. Madam Midnight is sending a limo to pick you up.”

“A limo? Really?” Melanee smiled broadly. Madam had been upset by her tardiness, but the woman must have been impressed in some way. Otherwise, why would she offer Melanee such transportation? Melanee put great effort into the blowjob she’d given the butler. And the way he’d flooded her mouth like a tsunami proved that he liked it. No one could deny that her fellatio skills were on point.

Madam Midnight made her nervous and jumpy, Colden held the woman in high regard. It was her duty to represent Colden’s training to the best of her ability.

With her brows drawn together in concentration, Melanee listened to Colden’s instructions. From what she gathered, tonight would be a totally different scene than she was accustomed to. Although Colden wouldn’t be there, Madam Midnight would be his eyes and ears, giving him a full report of Melanee’s performance.

Melanee planned to coat her lips with a thick covering of lip gloss—for better dick glide-ability. This time, there’d be no question about her superb head-training.

Following Colden’s precise instructions, Melanee dressed up for a night at the theater. The gleaming superstretch limo seemed out of place in front of her humble apartment building. She felt like Cinderella when the driver opened the door for her.

The luxurious inside of the limo seemed larger than her studio apartment. She looked around in amazement. The amenities were crazy: butter-soft leather couches, a flat-screen TV, a fully stocked, mirrored bar, a mirrored ceiling, and a mirrored partition.

This was heaven. The only thing missing was Colden. Melanee sighed, wishing they could share this moment together. Their day would come. Everything in due time, Melanee reminded herself.

Colden had informed her that Madam Midnight was a very wealthy woman and an important business associate. Melanee was the key to improving his relationship with Madam. All she had to do was make sure that Madam was thoroughly entertained tonight.

The limo glided out of her neighborhood. From the backseat, she could see the admiring glances of pedestrians and other motorists. She wished that stuck-up Solay could see her in this glorious moment. She wondered if Solay and her boyfriend ever went to the theater. Melanee doubted it. From the conversations she’d overheard, their dates consisted of movies and dinners that featured Buffalo wings and burgers. Solay thought she was the shit. Owning Scandalicious had gone to her head.

Downtown Philadelphia was alight with activity. The limo parked in front of Walnut Street Theater—America’s oldest theater. The area pulsed with excitement. Melanee hadn’t thought about the name of the play she would be attending, and was a little disappointed when she read the marquee:
Little Miss Saigon.
She would have preferred something that featured black people singing—
Dreamgirls, The Color Purple,
Whoopi Goldberg’s play,
Sister Act
.

She clutched her purse, waiting for the driver to get out and open the door. She wondered if she’d be seated alone or if she’d be joining Madam and her party in their box seats.

“Would you care to watch a movie or listen to music? And by all means, please help yourself to some champagne. Madam insists,” the driver said from the front of the limo.

Melanee frowned in confusion; she checked her watch. “What time does the play start? I don’t think I have time for a drink. I don’t want to be late.” She shuddered at the thought. There were dire consequences for turning up late at any of Madam’s functions.

The driver looked at her with sympathetic eyes. “The play started forty-five minutes ago. Madam and her escort will join you during intermission.”

“Oh.” Melanee was surprised and very disappointed.

“We have a wide selection of movies, but Madam has suggested that you watch her own personal favorite.”

“Oh, yes. Absolutely,” Melanee said, as she popped the cork from the chilled bottle of champagne.

The movie was Asian with subtitles. Melanee scowled in disgust. She hated subtitles. But just in case Madam decided to give her a pop quiz, she’d better pay rapt attention to the storyline.

What the hell?
The scene opened with naked women in a palace. Melanee leaned forward, suddenly interested. According to the words on the screen, an Asian princess was to be bathed and prepared for bed. The bath scene was sensual and erotic with six or seven naked maidens hand-bathing the princess.

The princess was lying in her regal bed in the next scene. Melanee’s eyes grew wide as she read the words on the screen: the princess required one hundred and one tongue licks to assure a sound sleep.
What the fuck?

Thoroughly engrossed and captivated by the erotic movie, Melanee barely heard the driver say, “It’s intermission; Madam will be arriving any moment.”

“Uh-huh,” she said distractedly, her eyes glued to the flat screen.
A brawny Asian male with a ponytail trailing down his back had entered the bedroom and was crouched between the princess’s legs. The close-up of his tongue stroking the princess’s pussy had Melanee’s face flushed with arousal. Her pussy was wet, and her nipples were so sharp and pointed, they seemed to be poking right through the cups of her bra. The tongue stroking on the screen was a turn-on that warranted another glass of champagne.

Melanee poured quickly, splashing a little bubbly on her hand. Then she remembered that the driver had said something. “Excuse me, driver…what did you say?”

“Madam is here,” he said grimly and got out of the limo in a flash.

Oh, shit!
Melanee didn’t know whether she should get out of the limo and give Madam Midnight a full curtsey or what. Sidetracked by that freaky movie, and feeling a buzz from the champagne, Melanee couldn’t remember all of the details of Madam’s requirements. Colden was going to punish the shit out of her if she fucked this up.