Sexaholics (6 page)

Teela Raye was in visual heaven.

Her hungry green eyes were completely satisfied as Payshun joined her in the
oversized bed, facing her as they continued to talk.

For now, Teela’s obsession was fed just enough to cure her ills.

Thanks to her equally freaky handyman of a boyfriend, Austin Henderson.

And to their new girl-toy, their hooked neighbor, Payshun.

Valencia

A
fter stopping back by the restaurant
she managed, spending time there to make sure everything was closed down and
secure, Valencia Sanchez, soon to be Valencia Sanchez Hooks, eased her SUV down
a winding street of manicured lawns, sturdy mahogany trees, and blossoming,
multicolored rosebushes. The Mediterranean style homes were secluded, tucked
away far beyond the well-paved sidewalks. She pressed the garage opener and the
door trundled upward, exposing her own personal parking space in the three-car
garage. She stepped her hot body from her ride in her pink and pewter platform
pumps, sporting her tight jeans.

Valencia slid her gold key back into her wallet and locked the beveled glass
and distressed wood front door behind her as she entered her fiancé’s
massive, three-bedroom, three-and-a-half-bath Brentwood home on Country Club
Drive. The thirty-five-hundred-square-foot, blond brick home with a clay
terracotta roof sat on the seventh hole of the Brentwood Country Club. With
eggshell crown molding, butterscotch walls, and bay windows framed by custom
white leather treatments, the split-level house had a media room, a large
backyard, a family room, and an executive office, as well as an oversized master
with a circular sitting area, and most every piece of contemporary furniture was
off-white.

She desired to add some color to the place. A bit of red or yellow to make it
pop. But it wasn’t time for Valencia to move in just yet. That would
happen soon enough. They were set to be married in the spring.

For Valencia, the only child of parents who had been brutally murdered after
their restaurant was burglarized when she was twenty-one, the fantasy of
arriving home to a husband and family had been put off long enough. Now
twenty-nine, she had recently decided she was ready to slow down and tame almost
all her wild oats. After all, she now had a great position as a restaurant
manager in Redondo Beach and a great man, an ex–football player who owned
his own home and had a job as a high-six-figure executive with UPS, whom she
could share the good life with. She made up her mind that she was ready to be a
wife and mother so she could do it all over again. Do what her mother and father
could not do: raise a child the right way. That was her ultimate desire.

She walked into the sprawling residence that was soon to be hers, then headed
past the oval entryway and to the rear of the house with the soaring vaulted
ceilings above her, noticing the man she’d been with for seven years
sitting in his home office.

She was sure he would be the perfect father to their future children. Gregory
Hooks was on the computer as usual. At five foot five, three inches shorter than
she, he was known in the college ranks as the shortest star running back ever to
play at USC.

“What’s up? Sorry I missed your calls,” she told him with a
kiss on the top of his bald, caramel head, as he sat at his desk in a rust
leather executive chair. He was barefoot, wearing blue boxers and a white tee.
His fragrance was his usual white musk.

He turned from the computer and leaned back, extending his chiseled arms
toward her, also stretching out his short, muscular, hairy legs from sitting so
long. “I assumed you were at the meeting,” he said, as she received
his hug and kissed the side of his unshaven face. “Please tell me you
went.”

“Yeah, I went.” She stepped back and placed her pale pink bucket
bag on the sofa table.

“Good. And?”

She shrugged her shoulders and folded her arms. “And what?”

“You know what, Valencia. Don’t play games with me.”

“What, Greg? What you wanna know? You want me to say they fixed me with
one meeting? Okay. I’m all better now, just like that.” She handed
him a sarcastic look and snapped her eyes as though they were fingers.

He gave her a look. “Don’t be a smart-ass. I want you to tell me
what it was like.”

She sighed and stepped to the snow-white leather love seat, plopping down on
the oversized arm. She twisted her more-than-sizable diamond bling along her
ring finger, then took a deep breath and exhaled. Her arched eyebrows sank as
she spoke. “It was a meeting. It was a meeting of confessions. It was
embarrassing, okay? It was wack. I felt like I killed someone. The people seemed
broken and fucked up. But hell, it was like looking in the mirror. They were me.
How’s that?”

“Your attitude will definitely not be helpful in the long run, and you
know it.” He folded his arms.

“Well, hell, like you told me last week, attitude is my middle name,
right?”

“Anyway.” He sat up straight. “Did Miki go?”

“Yeah.”

“Did you two talk about the two of you?”

“About the fact that every now and then we fuck? That we’re bi?
You can say the word, Greg. Bi. Bi. Bi.” Her neck tilted with each
two-letter word.

If looks could kill, Gregory would have been on death row for first-degree,
unadulterated, premeditated murder. “You know what I mean.”

“It was only one meeting. And I’m not so sure that’s an
issue anyway.”

“Obviously I think it is.”

“No, duh. Listen, me playing with Miki every now and then has nothing
to do with my addiction. It’s just plain old fucking without feelings.
Nothing more.”

“Well, with you about to be my wife, I say that adds up to infidelity.
Nothing more.”

She gave a long blink. “Greg, please. We talked about this before, not
long ago. You said were cool with it then.”

“Well, now I’m not.”

She cut her eyes from him to the tray ceiling and waited, tapping her foot.
She then returned her squinting sights to his frowning face. “So
you’re just gonna change your mind now that I’m wearing your ring?
You know I want a family. I want you and I want children. But I also wanna do
all that with you because you said you were cool with me having my fun. I had
fun the night I met Miki at the strip club when she was dancing a few years ago,
and I have fun now. No harm. She and I are close friends. I’m not prepared
to give up the option of experiencing her as my part-time lover. It’s just
a little icing on the cake. I love my cake. But sometimes the frosting is
sweeter.” She stood, walked to him, and bumped his knee with her leg.
“Greg, come on now. You of all people should know what I mean.
You’ve hit every crevice of her pussy and counted da pimples on da booty
enough times yourself, so stop trippin. I surely don’t know why
you’re complaining now.”

“Well, I am.” His arms remained crossed.

“Look, I already cut out Ferrari for you. But I’m not cutting out
Miki. So you think about that and let me know what the deal is.” She
walked over to the window and pushed up a horizontal wooden slat, peeking
outside at the upscale neighborhood.

He said to her back, “Hell, you’d just throw us away so you can
be with some woman every now and then. What’s up with you?”

She faced him. “I need to be asking what’s up with you?
You’d throw away being husband and wife because I’m with a woman
every now and then? You? The man who won freak of the year in
college?”

He twisted his chair left to right and back, again and again. “That was
then. I got all that nonsense out of my system, and now that I’m thirty,
I’m good. But you need to ask yourself how you’d handle it if the
shoe were on the other foot. What if we’d had a threesome with some guy
and now I want to creep with him just for fucking fun. You’d lose your
damn mind. I’ll bet you’d throw away being husband and wife if that
happened, if I left the house to go have sex with some dude and asked you to
understand.”

“That’s not the same thing.”

“That’s exactly the same thing.”

She again sat on the soft arm of the love seat, gave a long exhale, and
crossed her legs. “First of all, you know as well as I do that a woman
being with a woman is not seen as the same as a man being with a man. I can deal
with a little same-sex action between men, but the whole thought of a man
letting another man penetrate his ass is way different. Second of all,
you’re the one who convinced me to join a detox group to shake my
addictions, and I admitted I needed to. And not because you threatened to end
this, but because I knew I had a problem. But now it sounds like you’re
holding this thing with Miki over my head and threatening to leave anyway. I
mean, damn, Greg. What’s the deal?”

“The deal is I just can’t understand why this is so important to
you. We’ve had our fun. It’s time to get serious and get ready to
act right. But, damn, I just have to ask you. Are you in love with Miki, or
what?” He ceased twisting.

She uncrossed her legs and spoke a notch louder. “Oh, hell no, of
course not. I don’t want a relationship with her. It’s just
recreational. My goodness. Most men would be happy to have a woman who had a
chick on the side.” She talked with her hands. “I’m bisexual.
I can’t just shake that like you treat a cold. I mean, I just can’t
help it. And making people stop being attracted to the same sex is not what
Sexaholics is about. And besides, if it’s not Miki, it’ll be someone
else. You said you’d rather it be her, and now you sound like you’re
threatening to leave again after almost eight years, like it’s an
ultimatum. Damn. I’m trying to shake this addiction shit first, and you
won’t even let me get through that part. It wasn’t that long ago you
and me were trying out our open-relationship thing. But please, Greg. Wow. Give
me a break.” She took a breath, eyeing him down. “I know we’re
not your everyday, average couple. But I mean, just because you shook the freak
in you so easily doesn’t mean I can do the same at the same pace.
It’s like you won’t even wait until I get through a few meetings
without acting like I should be Polly Purebred when I walk in the door. This is
serious, honey. I need your patience. But I have to tell you that if you
can’t deal with this, then let me know now. Don’t waste my time.
Please. Hell, I am not getting any younger,
mijo.
”

Upon her last word he looked down at the floor, then eyed his desk and turned
toward the computer screen. “Valencia, you know I want you. That’s
why this is so important to me.” He clicked the mouse.

“Then give me a break. Please.” She took in the object of his
sudden focus. “And what the hell are you doing? Are you on
MySpace?”

“No.” He cleared his throat. “I was looking on the Home
Depot site so I can get those low-flow toilets this weekend.”

“All right, now.” She cautiously stood and grabbed her purse.
“Anyway, I’m gonna go home and change. I’m going
out.”

He glanced up at the oversized iron wall clock over his desk. “This
late? Out where?”

“Over to Purple for a minute.”

“You’re kidding, right?” He spoke with his back still
turned.

“No. I’m not. Where would you prefer I go?”

“You know, go on ahead.” His voice told on his frustrated
thoughts.

She stepped to him and again kissed the top of his head. “And hey. Get
off that computer. Even if that shit
is
MySpace. You know how your ass
is, Gregorio.” She walked away and exited his office.

“I’m not on MySpace. Besides, I don’t think Home Depot has
a webcam link, so relax.”

Moments later, her heels could be heard clicking along the crème
travertine floor of his living room as she stepped. She yelled while opening the
front door, “Okay now. I’ll call you later.”

“You do that,” he said extraloudly.

She left and locked the door with her key.

And Greg instantly logged into
www.jackoffcam.com
,
sat
back as the smooth
leather cushioned his gluteus maximus, and then pulled down his boxers, taking
his nearly raw shaft into his left hand.

He scooted down and leaned back with his legs open, assuming his regular
position.

The webcam was on.

And Greg was braced and ready to go.

As usual.