Fifty Shades of Jungle Fever (12 page)

If only you knew.

“He sent both of us presents. Let’s not make more of it than we should,” I say. “We have a business relationship with this man. As much as it would flatter me to think so, I don’t think the little piece I gave him will change that.”

“Then, fuck that delivery man. Open that package and let’s see what’s in there.”

Fearing that it might be some kinky BDSM thing he’s sent me, I decline. “No. Tristan is manic about his privacy. He’ll know if you’ve seen it, trust me.”

Jada pouts. “So, it’s like that?”

“Yeah, it’s like that,” I say. Then I rush to reassure her. “I won’t fuck things up with Tristan for us businesswise, I promise.”

#

After showering and getting ready for bed, I grab my package and open it in the privacy of my bedroom. Inside is the leather bustier Tristan found so intriguing at my store, with matching accessories. There’s also a black envelope inside. I turn it over, and its contents fall onto the bed. A shiny new credit card bearing my name falls out, together with a handwritten note from Tristan.

Keisha,

Please accept these gifts with a promise. If you agree to be my submissive, this is only the beginning of what I desire to lavish on you.

The credit card enclosed will be activated on Wednesday after the signing of the contract. It is for you to use to bolster your wardrobe, and whatever else your heart desires, within reason, as long as you are my submissive. I will expect you to attend various functions with me, and need you
always to dress tastefully and
appropriately as a woman befitting my social stature.

I’m looking forward to seeing you on Wednesday. Please plan to stay with me after the meeting, and I’ll answer any further questions you might have about the lifestyle. Then we’ll move on to more pleasurable things.

Tristan

P.S. – I don’t consider your acceptance a foregone conclusion. I wouldn’t presume to second-guess you, but I think you made your decision Saturday, it just hasn’t dawned on you yet. For what it’s worth, I certainly made up my mind about you then.

What have I gotten myself into? All I wanted to do is write my music, sing my songs, and run a recording studio and record store. I didn’t bargain for all this. I cram everything back in the box and hide it away in my closet, then I think better of it, and put the note and credit card in my purse. I hide the bustier and other lingerie in the bottom of my underwear drawer. I leave the empty box in my closet on a certain angle, so I’ll know if Jada touches it while I’m not home.

My cell phone catches my eye on the nightstand. I have three missed calls from who else, Tristan. Then I discover I have a text from him:
Why haven’t you answered my calls? I’m flying to Atlantic City to look at an investment with my brother. Talk to you tomorrow.

Without a second thought about my actions, I touch the screen and dial him. His voice mail picks up, so I leave a message before I chicken out.

“I think I’m going to pass on our arrangement,” I say. “There’s got to be another venture capitalist that will back us that I don’t have to sub for.” I hang up, giggling. That ought to give him something to chew on overnight.

I go to bed and fall into a deep sleep. The insistent ringing of the doorbell wakes me. I throw on my robe to go out and investigate. Jada, already at the door, peers through the peephole.

“What the fuck?” She says in a loud whisper. “There are two white men on our porch. The light’s not on, so I can’t see who. I’m calling 9-1-1.” She makes for the phone, but I know for a fact she can’t see who because she’s not wearing her contacts.

“Wait, let me see,” I say. I recognize Tristan’s shadowy profile, and another that looks like his with longer hair. I’d swear he’s peering back at me through the fisheye. I sigh. “Don’t call the cops, Jada. It’s just Tristan, and his brother, I think.” I turn to her, and all I see is her rear as she runs out of the room.

I take a deep breath and open the door. “You were two seconds away from getting the cops called on your ass,” I say by way of greeting to Tristan. “What the hell are you doing here this time of night?”

He looks at his Rolex. “It’s technically morning.”

“You know what I mean.”

Before he can say anything further, I hear Mrs. Dobbs fiddling with her chain lock next door. I gesture quickly to them both. “Get in here. Now!”

They acquiesce with twin smirks on their faces. I squint out of my sleep-crusted eyes at the White brothers. Both in our living room. They are so big, and tall, they dwarf the furniture in our humble abode.

Tristan practices impeccable manners despite my annoyance with him. “Nathan, this is Keisha Beale. Keisha, Nathan.”

“It’s so nice to meet you, Nathan.” I gush like a fan, and he grins. Then I turn and rail on Tristan. “What was so damned important it couldn’t wait until morning? You woke me and my roommate up, and our nosy neighbor.  What is wrong with you?”

“You were right, Tristan, she does sound like a Domme,” Nathan says.

Tristan looks at me, his eyes hooded. “Tell me about it.”

“I asked you a question, Mister.” I say, sounding just like my mother.

His eyes become a tad more alert. “I got your voice mail,” he says simply.

My mouth falls open, and I don’t have time to respond because, at that moment, Jada re-enters the room, hair-combed, teeth undoubtedly brushed, and wearing mascara, and lip gloss. I blink wide-eyed at her. She breezes in as if we’re receiving guests in the early evening.

“So, you’re the infamous Tristan White,” she says and offers her hand to him to shake.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Jameson,” he says. “From the business plan you drafted, I can tell you’re every bit of the shrewd business person I know your father to be.

She waves him off. “Daddy might have said something similar about you. Oh, and call me Jada. We’re going to be business partners after all.”

“I certainly hope so,” Tristan says and glances at me before he turns to introduce his brother. “Jada, this is my brother, Nathan.”

Nathan stares at Jada with his mouth open, as though he recognizes her, wants to jump her bones, or something.

Jada moves to Nathan with two hands out and clasp his. “This guy needs no introduction. We see you in our living room almost every week during basketball season.”

Nathan absently shakes her hand, squinting. “Have we met?”

Jada is adamant. “I don’t think we have.” Then she waffles, “Well not formally, anyway. We may have attended some event at the same time, but then we were both in the presence of other companions, I’m sure.”

What the hell? I thought she said she was “dying” to meet him. Looks like they’ve already met.

I don’t have time to think about that. Tristan grabs my hand. “Jada, Nathan, play nice. I have something I need to square away with Keisha.” I follow, half-running to keep up with his long strides. He looks from one door to the other in our tiny hallway. “Which room is yours?”

I point right, not sure my voice will work. He hauls me into my own bedroom and shuts the door, pinning me against it. He kisses me in all my morning-breathed glory. I try to avoid giving him access to my tongue, but his is stronger. Knowing that resistance is futile, I relax and let him sanitize my saliva until I taste only what he tastes like. I think it’s Scotch, but I can’t be sure.

When he decides to come up for air, he releases me abruptly, and I’m a limp noodle against the door.

“How can you say no to this kind of passion?” He asks.

I think I whimper, because my thoughts are so fucking garbled at the moment.

His hands go to his knees, but he forces himself to stand upright again. “What are you afraid of? Do you need to do a trial run?”

“I just don’t like the idea of being involved with you when we’re doing business together. I’m going to apologize to Princess Danai and see if she’ll take our project on.”

“I wouldn’t approach her right now if I were you,” he says. “I had to talk her out of pressing charges, and filing a lawsuit against you.”

I cringe. What did I expect? Her eye is probably still some variation of black and purple right now.

“Oh.” That’s all I can muster, faced with my current reality.

“If you’re going to open in a little over three weeks, I’m the only shot you have of doing that,” he says.

“What happens if this,” I gesture between us, “doesn’t work out for us? I need assurances that Kente doesn’t become one of your acquisitions if this doesn’t work.”

“Have you read the contract?”

“No.”

“I’ve included a provision for that. I think the language says that if personal relationships are severed, White Enterprises will ensure that your company is backed by another entity before we part ways, amicably.”

“You would do that?”

“Right now, I’d do anything it takes to make you mine.”

My Triple-G and my Fairy Hoochie Mama both faint in a synchronized swoon.

Damn,
this white boy is off the chain.

#

I try not to cry out with wild abandon as Tristan pounds me from behind. I am bent over the stuffed chair in my bedroom, his fingers doing wicked things to my breasts, and lavishing my neck with kisses. I am so close I can smell my release, but he has other plans.

He pulls out and flips me over, kneeling he places my legs across his shoulders at the bend of the knee. My head is in the seat cushion against the other arm of the chair, and he has me at a forty-five degree angle. He clamps his mouth onto my sex, bringing it all into his mouth, searching all its creases and crevices with his tongue.

My eyes roll back into my head as if I’m about to seize, but what happens is an earth-shattering orgasm. He laps me up with fervor, and then carries me to the bed, where he enters me quickly and continues. He only completes about a dozen strokes or so more, before he finds his release, but he doesn’t pull out or let me go.

Tristan laves my breasts, and licks, sucks and teases until I have another orgasm.

Only then do I think about Jada and Nathan again.

Through my panting, I say, “What is Jada and Nathan going to think?”

“That we’re in here fucking,” he says with a throaty laugh.

I punch him, knowing that my puny fist isn’t doing any damage to him. “Do that again, baby,” he teases. I move to roll away, but he traps me with his muscular body. “Where are you going?”

“Tristan, I just met your brother. He’s going to think I’m some kind of skank ho.”

“Do you care that much about what other people think of you?”

I thought a second. “No, not really.”

“Always be secure in who you are. Never give anyone that kind of power, and you’ll do well in the business world.”

“Thanks for the tip,” I say, “but if it’s all the same to you, I think we should get dressed and go back in there.”

No sooner are the words out of my mouth than I hear Jada screaming, “Yes, Master! Yes! Yes! Yes!” And her yeses are punctuated by what sounds like the crack of a whip. At this moment, I am so glad our bedrooms are on the opposite side of Mrs. Dobbs’ bedroom suite.

I gasp. My eyes are wide with the knowledge they’re in a scene, but just to be sure I whisper to Tristan. “Are they doing what I think they’re doing?”

“Knowing my brother? Yes.”

I am happy Jada’s finally gotten the opportunity to hook up with Nate White, but at the same time, furious that she’s apparently been holding out on me about her own—proclivities.

“That bitch!”

“Hey, don’t knock it till you’ve tried it,” he admonishes me. “Now, you have a friend in the lifestyle you can talk to. It’s going to be perfect.”

“So, I’m not bound by the NDA from talking to Jada?”

He glares at me, but it’s not a disciplinary glare. It’s playful. “If you’d read it, you would know that you are allowed to talk to other women, friends in the community.”

“Oh.” Why does this man shorten my vocabulary so? But I like it when he’s playful, and not so serious about the BDSM stuff.

He sits up and swings his long legs off the bed. I’m not altogether sure my bed is long enough for him, but I find myself wishing he would stay.

It’s my turn to ask. “Where are you going?”

“I’m going to phone the after-hours car service and cancel it, then text Moses to arrange for a six-thirty pick-up here.”

I grin so wide my face hurts, but then I stop when Tristan turns to look at me as he waits for the driver to answer the phone. His eyes hold delicious sexual intent for the rest of the morning.

~*~

83

The White brothers are long gone when Jada and I emerge from our bedrooms at the same time in the morning. She has an ambivalent, guilty look on her face, and I glare at her doing my level best to show her just how wounded I am. Then we both burst into laughter, but not for the same reasons, I don’t think.