Smoke and Mirrors (55 page)

He smiled and winked at her, and she returned the gesture.

His lawyer started to explain the next steps as the courtroom began to clear. He couldn’t believe it… He was free; he was
finally
going home, and yes, he had a home to go to, because his woman had held it down and prepared a place for him, sealed with her love and perfect Parisian kiss…

*

One week later…

If absence makes
the heart grow fonder, then Paris was a bustling bunch of infatuated, lust-filled, obsessive nerves. She pulled into the security vehicle clearance area and immediately stepped out of the car, anxious to the point that she had to remind herself to be quiet, be still, and wait. She dreamed about the man constantly, his touch, his arms wrapped around her form and now, she was finally about to make those dreams a reality. She glanced at the time on her cellphone; each minute felt like a damned eternity.

“Hurry up, already!” she blurted, prancing about, making her own self nervous all over again. Suddenly, the sliding glass doors opened, revealing two security guards and a tall, smooth shadow between them. No orange jumpsuit. No handcuffs. No, he was wearing a black t-shirt, a pair of slightly loose-fitting jeans, and a bright white pair of Nike gym shoes. His dark hair was now cut short, like a Roman Caesar, making her smile a bit. She’d never seen him with his hair like that before, and it suited him. His goatee was trimmed to perfection, and she lusted for his ass for the one-thousandth time. In his left hand he held a light brown plastic bag, probably containing his platinum chain that used to hang around his neck, his wallet and a few other odds and ends he had on when he’d been arrested. Her chest flooded with a dull pain when her heart began an uneven beat the more he drew near. His blue eyes captured her own like a bee in a net.

I can’t wait to touch you…

The side of his lip lifted in his customary smirk and she smiled back, unable to contain herself for much longer. One of the security guards extended his hand, and Smoke promptly shook it.

“Patterson, we wish you well.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

And then, the two men walked away, leaving him there under the blazing sun crowning his beautiful head of hair, which covered a marvelously wicked brain.

“So, you’re just going to stand there?” He put his hand up to his forehead like a visor as he blinked one eye, trying to block the sun. “Do I need to stay another eight and a half months so I can get a proper welcome?”

He tilted his head to the side and extended his arms. Before he could say another word, Paris bolted towards him as if a gate had been opened, allowing her beast of a heart to roar. She flooded his arms, her body, her spirit, her mind into him, groping, pushing and fighting for all of his attention. Rising on her tiptoes, she nestled her face in the crook of his neck as he bent low to hug her back. She shuddered when his arms surrounded her. She clutched him close, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and kissed his lips, his chin, all over his face until she ran out of room, then started up all over again. He let his bag slip from his grasp onto the ground, cradled her face with both hands, and brought her face to his for a harsh kiss. His urgency soared through her, electrified her, set her free. He slicked his tongue inside of her mouth, working within, swimming around, darting in and out and lavishing the hell out of her with the physical affection she thirsted for. Nothing could cure the quench. He couldn’t hug her hard enough, kiss her long enough, and touch her completely for she was insatiable, and the sexual drive within her sent her to the brink of insanity.

He pulled himself away, his eyes hooded as he took a good, long, thoughtful look at her.

“Let’s go home.”

She raced to the car, everything around her like some surreal blur. On the drive there, they held hands, and snuck glances, the emotions in the vehicle so heavy, so hard, and almost painful. There was no need for small talk, for their silence, intertwined fingers, and heavy sighs said it all—a longing in the air for their souls to be reconnected. This experience had been one of the most agonizing things she’d ever endured, and the most rewarding, all at the same time. She handed him a bottle of water then returned to facing the road. Breaking the seal, he brought it to his lips and took a soft sip.

“Thank you.”

“I didn’t want your first day home to be too crazy, you know, too much excitement. So, I have it set up for you to just rest and relax. And then, after a few weeks, if you’re up to it, I was going to throw you a small ‘welcome home’ get-together. I realize now, I should have asked you first,” she said, keeping her eyes on the road.

“Nah.” He shook his head then looked out the window. “That’s fine. I like just chilling tonight though. I want to be alone with you. No calls, nothing like that.”

She nodded as she continued to navigate the busy I-170 traffic. In a little under ninety minutes, they were at her house, and once inside, the man paused in the foyer area, simply staring. He stood under the archway, observing, as if he’d never been inside before. In some ways, she imagined that to be true. He’d changed, and though he looked the same, actually even better, this was not the exact same man that had been hauled away from her brothel in the back of a police car.

“You mixed some of our furniture together…looks nice. It smells good in here, too.” His nostrils flared as he took it all in. “Sweet…”

“Flowers…” She smiled.

“Where are they?” He placed his little bag on a nearby table.

“Well, the ones you smell right now are on the dining room table as the centerpiece, but I have quite a few in my workshop, too. I bring some from the shop home, and decided to change one of the bedrooms into a work area.” He followed her up the steps and entered the moderate sized room where she’d set up three small tables covered in satiny ribbons, spray bottles, colorful bows, clear gems and various flowers in a temperature controlled enclosure. After tracing the tables with his fingertip, he picked up a bunch of recently bundled lavender hydrangeas…

He probably felt like he hadn’t touched a flower in decades, versus months. She loved hydrangeas. They felt like silk, and their color was luscious and alive.

“These are nice.” He examined the rhinestone embellishments across the green satin wrap.

“Thank you. They are for a wedding coming up in a few days. I’m almost finished.”

He put his hands on his narrow hips and took a deep breath. “So, how’s business? We’ve been so busy with my legal issues, we don’t even discuss ‘A Day in Paris’ anymore.”

She got off on the way his eyes seduced her when he more than likely wasn’t even trying. “It’s good, Brent. I have, uh, already built up a pretty decent clientele. I have a guy who buys pink roses for his wife every week. She’s dead.”

Brent tilted his head some, absorbing the sobriety of the moment.

“And then,”—she crossed her arms over her breasts and began to pace—“I have a professor who buys different flower bouquets every month. They are big flowers, expensive. She does it because she said regardless of whether she was in love or not, she’d always date herself, treat herself how she wanted a man to treat her. I’ve never forgotten those words. I understood that was one of the ways this woman showed self-love. Something I knew nothing about.”

“I mean,” she sighed, “I thought I did, but that was just an illusion. I don’t think I loved myself at all, for the majority of my life, quite frankly. This is a recent development. And uh, I saw a therapist too, about the things that happened to me. I got pretty depressed while you were away, self-examining myself. I was alone with my thoughts, and they hurt. I don’t want to be a wreck anymore. You inspired me to do better, and want more…and I will always love you for that.”

He placed his hands on the cool metal table in front of him, leaning forward, his head hung low, shoulders slumped. His pain became hers, and hers became his. Standing behind him, she wrapped her arm around his torso, rose on tiptoe, and kissed the base of his neck. He shivered in her grip, falling apart now that he felt safe, comfortable, at ease. It had been rough for him; so much had happened at once. His life would never be the same, and she surely didn’t even know the half of it.

“I like these gardenias,” she announced, moving to his side and bringing him back into the moment, knowing he wanted an escape, to wish it all away, for the tears to stop. So, she handed him an out, allowed him to walk free, clear and easy. He slowly lifted his eyes to hers. She looked at the three bunches of off white flowers and fell in love with them all over again. “Gardenias are simple flowers. They offer a lot of beauty without becoming temperamental. Despite their robust appearance, they bruise easily. People don’t see the bruising until long after the damage has been done. Sometimes the gardenia itself doesn’t even seem to notice that it’s suffered a trauma. I think you are like the gardenia, Smoke.” She smiled at him as she ran her hand along his rugged jawline.

He smiled back and nodded in understanding. “…I like that.” Tears glossed over his light sapphire pupils but refused to fall.

“Gardenias are
your
flower.” She placed a delicate kiss on his earlobe, then handed him the bouquet. He straightened up, stood erect, to accept her offering. He looked at the flowers closely, then brought them to his nose. “Wonderful smell…it’s hearty. They smell so good and look so nice, you wouldn’t know they couldn’t take some manipulation.”

“I know. It’s all a façade, a show. They have to protect themselves, right?” She caressed up and down the back of his head. Nodding, he reached for a cluster of pink and orange ranunculus. A devilish grin creased his face.

“These remind me of
you
.”

“Oh really? How so?”

“They’re pink; the bud is small, but bursting forth. It reminds me of your pretty little clitoris when I eat your pussy. I missed your body so bad, Pussycat…damn.”

“Brent!” She burst out laughing. “Here we are having this wonderful conversation, baring our souls, and
that’s
what you say?” She wasn’t really shocked, but she enjoyed putting on airs nonetheless.

With a chuckle, he placed the flowers down and pulled her into his arms, lifting her clean off the floor to layer her lips and cheeks with eager kisses. Before she knew it, the man had removed her blouse, tossed it aside, and made a meal of her breasts.

“Ahhh…” she moaned.

He laid her down on the cool tile floor, eagerly kicking her legs open, and settled between her thighs.

“Mmmmm!” he groaned as he sucked her breasts, groping them urgently, his passion running over. “I missed these big, pretty titties so bad!” he said between gulps, slicking his tongue over the nipples then sucking the soft flesh around them. Ravenous, he gripped her hips harshly, tugging away at her olive green flared pants until they were cast aside and long forgotten. He roughly explored around the frilly layers of her panties, bunching them as he continued to shower her breasts with long awaited affection. Then, he ripped them off her, while his free hand fumbled with his zipper until he managed to release the hungry beast from inside the confines of his underwear. She gasped when the stiff member bumped into her stomach. Sliding down her body just so, he kicked her legs further apart and anchored his cock at the entrance of her valley, prepared to thrust within her.

“Brent, baby, wait…wait.”

He swallowed harshly; the urgent expression on his face proved he was in no mood to have a heart to heart.

“Honey, I’m not on birth control anymore. With the stress I was under and everything, it was making me sick. I bought some condoms though. They’re in the bedroom.” She pointed towards the partially opened door.

He sighed in annoyance. “Paris, baby, come
on
,” he groaned, frowning. He nestled his face into the crook of her neck, pinning her down with his heavy, muscular body. “I don’t care!” he growled between nibbles.

She had a hard time telling the bastard no. He wanted her, and he wanted her right then, and he didn’t want to wait until she retrieved the freshly bought box of Magnums, forcing them to make the trek down the long hallway.

“I’ll pull out, okay, baby?” he assured.

“Okay…” Deep within, she knew better…but she loved him, and truth was, she also wanted to
really
feel him, to relish this moment.

He surged inside her.

“Ahhhh! Ahhh! Oh… God!”

Oh, how strangely beautiful it was to feel her pussy clenched around the man’s cock, to be holding on for dear life. Smoke’s big dick made a grand entrance in a way she’d never thought possible again.

“Ahhhh, damn, baby! You’re so fucking tight!”

He thrust again, and then again, each time drawing loud sighs from her mouth.

“Feels so good! Uh! Uhhh! Your pussy feels so damn good! Uhhhh!” He thrust again and again, pushing into her, making her dizzy with his commanding movements. Rising, he steadied himself on his hands and looked down to watch his cock move in and out of her, disappearing and returning, over and over again. Recently released prison sex…yeah, the rumors were true. The first sexual encounter, especially for an ex-pimp, was deliciously brutal…