Single Husbands (6 page)

“Hey, Daddy,” an unfamiliar voice resonated from behind.

Lexington glanced over his shoulder. Three gorgeous Latina women had surrounded him. His locks always drew women to him like
metal to a magnet. “Mind if we join you?”

He smiled at them.

“I’ll catch you next week. I’m going home,” said the woman who’d followed him back into the club.

Lexington stood and gave her a hug. “No problem. Drive safe,” he said.

Opening his arms, Lexington stepped between the Latina women, saying, “Excuse me, ladies,” then walked up to his invited guest.
He kissed, then hugged her tight. “So you did make it. Did you pay to get in?”

She shook her head, smiling at him. “Of course not. A real woman never pays for a man’s pleasure or his pain.”

Smiling, Lexington clinched his bottom lip between his teeth.
True that.
She didn’t have to pay for anything when she was with him. He’d happily prepaid her fee. “I didn’t think you were bold enough
to come out on a sex play date with me at a club. Where’s your husband?” he asked, not caring.

“Probably fucking your wife,” she said, passionately kissing him. “Why you got my locks hanging out like that?” Picking up
his head wrap from the back of the chair, she proceeded to tie the wrap over his hair.

The Latina women had dispersed elsewhere in the club. He noticed one of them shaking her head in protest at the guy he’d given
a drink to. Dude would have better odds taking off those cheap clothes and going over to the all-nude side of the club.

“I see somebody is happy to see me,” his invited guest said, massaging Lexington’s dick.

“That’s his job. He’s part of the welcoming committee,” Lexington said, watching his dick harden. “See how glad he is to see
you. Damn, you look hot! That’s a sexy-ass thong teddy.” He lowered the cup, uncovering her nipple, then sucked her breast.

She licked her lips, then kissed his.

Covering her nipple, she kissed him again. “Give me a tour. I wanna see where all of those people with towels wrapped around
their asses are disappearing to,” she said, gliding her fingernails up and down his back. “Hold up,” she said, staring.

A man sat at the table next to them. A voluptuous woman wearing a black leather corset with garter straps, stockings, a thong,
long black gloves up to her biceps, a mask covering her eyes, and stilettos stood in front of the guy as she slapped a black
cat-o’-nine-tails in her hand.

“This is going to be good,” his date said, sitting down like she had a front-row seat at a sex show. “She’s definitely a dom.
I’ve always wanted to do this.”

The voluptuous woman danced seductively to “Darling Nikki” by Prince. Setting her breasts atop the bustier, she jiggled them
in front of the guy’s face, gliding the leather strips over her cleavage. Licking the straps, she grabbed his ears, pulled
his face into her pussy, stuffed her clit into his mouth, swayed back and forth, then commanded, “You’ve been awfully bad.
Suck me.” Turning around, she bent over, sticking her ass in his face. Slowly she slid the straps over her pussy. “You wanna
eat me, don’t you?” she asked.

Frantically he nodded.

“You don’t eat my pussy until I tell you to eat my pussy,” she said. “Stand up. Bend your ass over the seat,” she demanded.

Lexington watched his invited guest stare in amazement at the couple. Her breathing pattern altered from normal to slow, deep,
heaving breaths. He could tell the couple turned her on, but his eyes trailed her eyes to the woman’s nipples. From the way
she watched the woman, he couldn’t tell if she was more turned on by the woman or the man.

“Pull down your pants,” the woman said.

Whack!

The cat-o’-nine-tails whipped across the guy’s ass.

“Down,” she said, and the guy knelt before her, then stared at the floor, his hands clamped in front of him.

“You want a drink?” Lexington asked. He’d seen enough.

“Whew!
Need
one. But I shouldn’t. I’m on antibiotics,” his guest replied.

Lexington led her to the bar. Alcohol didn’t prevent antibiotics from working. His guest was having a drink on him.

She stared at the woman seated at the bar on a high stool, with a man stooping in front of her, licking her pussy, then watched
another woman straddle the rail across from the bar and begin masturbating with a pocket rocket clit massager.

“This place is too hot! You should’ve invited me sooner,” his guest said.

“Too hot or fucking hot?” Lexington asked, twirling his finger in the air to the bartender. Next he held up two fingers, signaling
for a double shot of tequila, straight up, then pointed at his date.

His date unzipped his pants at the bar, shoved him against a stool, got on her knees, grabbed his dick, and proceeded to lick
his balls.

“Aw, shit! You haven’t even had a drink yet,” he said. He wanted her to enjoy herself. That was why he’d invited her. Watching
a lot of people freely having sex did strange things to all of the women he’d invited.

His guest had on her teddy and he still had on all of his clothes, including his sandals. His unbuttoned shirt exposed his
chest. Lexington rubbed his own nipples. At Trapeze, there was no such thing as over-or underdressed as long as the attire
was presentable for men and sexy for women.

She spat on his dick, then stroked his shaft. Her tightened fingers slid all the way down to his nuts, then she locked a firm
grip, trapping the blood inside his shaft, making his dick nice, long, and overstuffed like boudin sausage.

Her mouth opened wide. Her throat bobbed up and down over his head. She suctioned him in, massaged him with her tongue, then
eased him out of her mouth. Again she tightened her jaws around him, bobbing up and down his dick like he was chocolate melting
in her mouth.

“Baby, ease up before you make me fucking explode in your mouth,” Lexington said, nudging her forehead.

He picked up the chilled double shot of tequila, poured half of it on his dick, and the other half down her throat. Opening
her mouth wide, she sucked his dick faster. Immediately his dick got ten times cooler
and
hotter at the same time. His new discovery of tequila aiding in an awesome blow job was the shit!

“Fuck, baby. You ready for this third shot?” Lexington asked. He was so fucking ready to let go of the sperm dying to be released.
They knew not their own fate. His body would reproduce more sperms that would bring him ultimate ecstasy, hopefully again
tonight.

She shoved his dick deeper inside her mouth, stroking and sucking him, until his legs weakened, then trembled.

Shooting cum over her sexy mocha lips, Lexington whispered, “I love you.”

Lexington doubted it was the tequila warming his heart. It was his date. Lexington was down with, and for, Nikki ever since
they were high-school teenagers growing up in New Orleans—him at De La Salle and her down the street at Sacred Heart. Unlike
his wife, Donna, who’d graduated from Xavier Prep, Nikki, with all of her money and success, didn’t give a damn about what
people thought about her. After all the years they’d been together, Nikki was still willing to try something new just for
him. Nikki was the sole reason Lexington relocated his business from New Orleans to South Beach and bought an estate near
hers on The Island.

He didn’t want to live without sharing his life with his first and only true love.

M
oney equaled power.

An established, successful woman was more powerful than her male counterparts, and she was entitled to the same privileges
as any man. Last night wasn’t about Nikki fulfilling Lexington’s fantasy of her sucking his dick at a sex club. Last night,
Nikki felt liberated, knowing she could have satisfied her sexual craving or fulfilled her fantasy with the man or men of
her choice. She chose Lexington. He did not choose her.

Last night, she could’ve been that exotic woman dancing on the pole, or the dominatrix woman slapping that man, or the woman
sitting at the bar getting her clit licked while sipping on a drink. Ironically, Lexington’s urgent desire to leave came at
the exact moment when a group of tall, sexy Puerto Rican men invaded the club, overshadowing all of the other dicks.

Women weren’t that different from men. New dick to a woman was just as thrilling as new pussy to a man. All of Nikki’s lips
puckered the second those succulent, edible, delicious Puerto Rican men ripped off their shirts, whipped out their dicks,
with conviction, and made her pussy drool.

“Let’s get out of here,” Lexington had said last night.

Nikki had glanced over her shoulder just in time to see some of the most impeccable, glistening asses she’d ever witnessed.

Oh, well.
Maybe next time she’d go back with her best friend, Venus.

Nikki somberly eased out of bed, dragging her feet to the kitchen in search of damiana tea, fresh peaches, and figs to reinvigorate
her dwindling libido. As much as Nikki enjoyed the taste of soy milk and coffee, both soy and caffeine spiked serotonin. An
elevated level of serotonin decreased a woman’s sex drive. Stimulants like ginkgo and ginseng were great for her male clients’
sex drive but had the opposite effect on a woman’s libido.

“What time is it?” she wondered, pausing in the living room to stretch her hands high above her head. The house was quiet.
Good. Maybe Herschel was gone.

Entering the kitchen, she saw him leaning against the counter in front of the appliances. Nikki exhaled a dry “Good morning.”

“It’s way past morning,” he grumbled. “And I’ve been thinking. Nikki, seriously, I want us to have a baby,” Herschel said,
standing tall, as if his posture would make her agree with his request.

Silence. Everything was quiet. No usual buzzing from the huge double-door stainless-steel refrigerator. She couldn’t hear
the ticking of the grandfather clock in the living room. In the moment of not responding to her husband, life for Nikki was
peaceful within her. Why couldn’t she be serene within all the time?

Herschel stood in front of the fresh avocados, figs, and peaches, then folded his arms across his chest. He knew her diet.
He knew those were three of the foods that definitely increased a woman’s sex drive, along with garlic, oysters, and chocolate
truffles.

Reaching around her husband, Nikki lightly squeezed a peach with her fingertips. She selected a ripe one and placed it on
the cutting board on the island. She eased a knife from the holder and laid a pineapple sideways next to the peach. Slicing
off the top and the bottom, she pushed them aside, then inserted her pineapple cutter, removed the center, diced it into cube-sized
chunks, then tossed the pieces into a bowl. Standing in front of Herschel, she waited for him to move out of her way.

His lips flattened. His eyes stared into hers.

Nikki placed the bowl of fresh pineapple on the island, stared into Herschel’s piercing brown eyes, then said, “Please. You
can’t possibly be serious about this baby issue. You’re not in love with me. You need to quit bringing up that conversation.
I’m never having your baby. What you really want is for me to slow down long enough for you to catch up. It’s too late. That’s
not happening,” Nikki said, walking away from him.

She opened the refrigerator, scanning for the orange juice that she wanted to blend with peaches, pineapples, and strawberries
for a fruit smoothie. She exchanged the orange juice for yogurt. Glancing at the clock, she saw it was well after three in
the afternoon. Her late night with Lexington had left her feeling mellow and happily exhausted.

“Herschel, move from in front of the blender,” Nikki said, nudging him in his side. “You don’t support the bastard you’ve
got. I do.”

Herschel’s jaw dropped. He quickly stood straight, then closed his mouth.

Nikki continued speaking. “What? Kwan is ten years old, looks exactly like you, and the last time I went to church with you,
Ivory and Kwan sat next to me in the pew and your stupid ass let them, ’cause what? You think you’re slick? You think you’re
smarter than me. Never that, sweetheart. I know everything about you. Everything.”

Herschel reached out for her. Nikki stepped back, then said, “Don’t touch me. Am I supposed to appease your ego by throwing
up for months with morning sickness? Am I supposed to give you the opportunity to decide whether or not you seriously want
to be a husband and father while I wobble around pregnant for nine months while you tag along as a gofer with Brian and Lexington
to the golf course to stroke eighteen pussy holes? Or kick it with your girlfriend Anthony?”

Herschel held his breath.

“Um-huh. That’s right. I called you on your shit,” Nikki continued. “There is no way I’d gain over twenty-five pounds, getting
stretch marks on this body, waiting for you to come home late at night, trying to stick your dick in me—to prove what? That
you love me? Yeah, right. I was foolish to believe you’d ever keep the wedding vows you made at the altar.”

“Baby, I did keep my—”

“Herschel! No, you have not! You have a fucking boyfriend, a mistress, and a son. Do you know how embarrassing it would be
for me if my clients and family found out your ass is bisexual? Get out! Just get out of my face! Out of my house and go live
with them! I’m not about to change my lifestyle to give you a damn baby you won’t take care of.” Pausing for a moment, forcing
back her tears, Nikki said, “Fuck you, Herschel. Stand in front of the blender all damn day if you want to. I’ll be back tomorrow.”

“How’d the show go? Who were your guests this week?” Herschel asked, stepping aside.

Forget the smoothie. The hunger bubbling in her stomach boiled with disgust. Rolling her eyes at her husband, Nikki replied,
“The taping was two days ago.”

She knew her husband knew the answers to both of his questions. Her tapings always went well. Why wouldn’t they? If he was
indirectly inquiring about her bruises, the artist applied makeup to Nikki’s neck to camouflage the remaining discoloration.
Nikki hadn’t bothered explaining how she’d gotten the marks. Her private life was nobody’s damn business, and Nikki—like Brian,
Michelle, and Lexington—had done a great job of maintaining a positive media image. If protecting her reputation meant quietly
staying married to her bisexual husband, then that was exactly what Nikki Henderson would do.