Going Broke (17 page)

“Yes, that was about a month and a half ago.” I felt like hyperventilating. “Why?”

“I told you that our last time seeing each other was two weeks before we first went out, right?”

Where was he going with this? “Yes,” I answered. I was afraid of what he was about to say.

“Well, I haven't seen her since,” he said. “As a matter of fact, I haven't been seeing anyone since I met you.” He looked at me. “And I like it that way.”

I couldn't stop blushing. “Really?”

“Really.” He reached for my hands and pulled me to my feet. “Are you still seeing other men?”

I was speechless. I just shook my head from side to side.

“Can we do this then?” he asked.

“Do what?” I knew what he meant, but you know what they say about assuming.

“Can we take our friendship to the next level?” He paused. “Let's be a couple.”

I smiled. “A couple of what?”

“A couple of fools.” He said with a smile. “A couple, two people in a relationship—can we do that?”

“Yes.”

The way I jumped up and wrapped my legs around his waist, you'd think that we had just gotten engaged.

“Yes, we can do that.”

Our lips met, and our embrace grew stronger.

He pulled away gently. “I know that I'm not everything that I could be, but I'm trying. I almost have enough money to buy time at the studio. Just be patient with me.”

The phone started ringing. I jumped down and answered it, “Hello?”

“Sarai?”

“Yes, this is Sarai.”

“Stefani has brought it to my attention that you've been turning down jobs over the past month,” Conrad said. “Are you in this thing or not?”

I walked over to the picture window and did a quick calculation of my ending statement balance, then thought of the fact that I hadn't even been looking for a job. “Yes, I'm still interested in the job,” I said.

“Then you better start acting like it,” he huffed. “I need you in Atlanta at the lawyer's convention on Friday evening.”

“Atlanta?”

“ATL,” he said sarcastically.

“This Friday?”

“What other fuckin' Friday you know 'bout?” He sounded pissed. “Sarai, I'm not playing games with you. The Elite isn't an establishment where you can do shit half-assed. I run the show, not you. You should always be available for me, not you picking and fuckin' choosing when you want to work. I'm in the money-making business. You are the merchandise, and when I need your ass on the shelf, you better damn fuckin' well be there.”

“Okay. I'll be there.” I wanted to hang up before Tremel got suspicious.

“You better be.” He was breathing heavily. “Stefani will be calling you in the morning with the flight information.” He hung up.

“Jesus,” I said as I rested the phone down.

“What was that all about?”

I pasted on a smile. “Job interview.”

“Good for you,” he said. “When is it, and at what station?”

“Friday.” I hated lying to him. “In Atlanta.”

He smiled. “I hope you don't get it.

“No matter how rich you become, how famous or
powerful, when you die the size of your funeral
will still pretty much depend on the weather.”

—Michael Pritchard

Bank Statement # 11

 

 

 

A
s I rolled my suitcase to the closet in my hotel in Atlanta, my cellular started ringing. It was Tremel. He told me the shocking news of finding Mrs. White passed out on the kitchen floor when he got in from work. The medics said it was a massive heart attack and she had been dead for at least three hours. He was broken-hearted. She was like a grandmother to him, and I wished that I were there to comfort him.

During our hour-long conversation, my hotel line rang twice. I knew that it was Stefani, but my man played a bigger role in my life than the Elite.

When she called back, I told Stefani that I had a problem and was late getting up to my room. She gave me the rules with the lawyers. We were to visit them in their rooms. They didn't trust us, but they were willing to have sex with us. Go figure. Conrad charged them $3,000 since they had the balls to do something illegal.

I thought Stefani's call was just a formality, until she laid it on me. “In an hour, I need you in room twenty-one thirty.”

“In an hour?” I asked.

“Yeah, nine o'clock.” She continued, “Calvin Ross. He's twenty-nine, and I heard that the brotha is a piece of work.”

“That helps.”

But what he looked like really didn't matter. What did matter was the fact that I couldn't get Tremel off my mind, and with every passing moment, I was driving a knife farther into his back.

Stefani said, “He's kinky as hell, though, so—”

“Whoa!” I interrupted. “Kinky, like how?”

“I don't know to what extent, but I flagged his name in the computer as being a little weird.”

I could hear her punching keys on the keyboard.

“The last time he used us was a year ago, the last convention.” She paused. “I do know that he's married to a white girl and just likes some black cherry every once in a while. But I don't think he did anything crazy.”

“You shouldn't have told me that.”

“Relax.” She laughed.

“That's easy for you to say. You only have to deal with him over the phone.” I was upset at her lack of sensitivity. “I have to sleep with him.”

“Sarai, don't stress it. It's probably something like a foot fetish.”

I tried to get my mind right. “Is the transaction complete?”

“Yep,” she said. “Two and one will be in your account some time tomorrow.”

The money was a comforting thought. “Sounds good to me.”

For the love of money, I was becoming a person I didn't like.

“All right, girl. Enjoy.” Then she added, “I'll be calling you in the morning. You're a hot commodity this weekend.”

“Really?” I didn't know if I should be proud or embarrassed.

“Yes, ma'am. They like your picture. Anyways, get ready. He's in room twenty-one thirty.”

I passed the mirror, and it hurt to look at myself. I resembled the picture of the woman whose face I had never seen, my mother. I quickly wondered if she was looking down on me and hoped that if she could, she'd stop me from becoming the woman I was in danger of being. I could only imagine her hurt, pain, and disappointment. What mother wants this for her daughter?

“This is crazy,” I said as I continued to stare at my image. “I don't have to do this.” I had no one to answer to. I could just walk out of this hotel and never look back. Or I could finish out the weekend to earn some extra money then call it quits.

I contemplated for an hour before I came to a conclusion. I sauntered out of my room and to the elevator fighting tears. I was on my way to meet Calvin Ross.

He opened the door in a charcoal-colored suit. He was the soft, brown complexion of the darkest of chocolate bars. He was not very tall, but his frame was solid. He had a flat stomach, jet-black wavy hair, and a goatee slicked to his skin. He smiled as he looked me up and down in my red dress. “Hello there.” He extended his hand to me. “I'm Calvin.”

“I'm Sarai.” As my real name passed over my lips, I regretted it.

“That's a beautiful name.” He took a step toward me, my hand still in his. “Would you like to join me in the lounge for a few cocktails?”

I smiled. “Sure, lead the way.” I was shocked when he held my hand, not only to the elevator, but also through the lobby and into the lounge. As I sat down, he kissed me gently on the back of my hand. “I'll be right back. Please order me a vodka martini with two olives.”

Stefani was right. The man looked like a statue of a bronze Zeus had come to life. However, because Calvin was labeled as a freak and Stefani couldn't remember why, I wasn't letting down my guard. I wasn't drinking; I wanted to have all of my faculties in order, just in case I needed to beat his ass.

When the cocktail waitress came over to find out what I was drinking, I gave her his order and kept my voice down as I told her what I wanted. “Put water in a martini glass with a cherry instead of an olive, but charge the bill the price of a regular vodka martini. For the rest of the night, whenever I order a martini, that's the way I want it.”

She smiled. “That's pretty clever.”

“I know.” I winked. “Just don't mention it, when my friend is at the table.”

She gave me a thumbs up. “No problem.” She walked away.

I looked around the lounge and saw a few familiar female faces that I had encountered while in Richmond. Conrad's girls were scattered throughout the hotel lobby and lounge. I could tell who they were; they were with the men who were trying to impress the next guy with their girls, rubbing their backs, their legs, being so aggressive that they shouldn't have left the room. Yet to a passing stranger, we all looked like couples.

Calvin came back, and I started a conversation. “So, mister two olives, how were things today?”

“Long and boring.” He unbuttoned his jacket and slid closer to me in the booth. “Just glad that this convention is almost over and I can finally have myself some fun.” He adjusted his tie. “What about you?”

“I'm fine.” I put on my game face. “Glad that I have the opportunity to help you unwind.”

“I'm glad too,” he said as he started rubbing my legs. “You're going to help me do more than just unwind.” He smiled.

I was getting nervous again. “So what is it that you'd like to do later?”

He ran his hand down the side of my face. “You'll see.”

I decided to take control of the night. I told Calvin that I could hold my vodka, and of course he, not wanting to be outdone by a woman, promised that I couldn't outdrink him.

Bingo
! He fell into my trap. I had nine water martinis, and he was stuck on number seven.

“Are you trying to kill me?” he asked. “Are you a woman or a machine?”

I was trying to get him too incoherent to do whatever freakiness he had up his sleeves. “Come on,” I egged him on, “have one more and we'll call it even.”

“All right,” he slurred, quickly swallowed what was left of number seven then reached for an already waiting number eight. “Come on, let's go.” He grabbed my hand and pulled me up out of the booth. “I want you.”

I created a monster.

“Are you ready to fuck?” he asked.

I was taken aback at first. “Is that what you want to do?”

We walked out of the lounge.

“That's what we came to do.”

As we got on the elevator, he grabbed my hand and placed it on his bulge. “You feel that?”

“Yeah.”

“You like it?”

“Yeah.”

He reached over and hit a button; the elevator came to a halt. “Then put it in your mouth.”

“Calvin,” I tried to smile, “let's go to the room.”

“No, I want you to do it here.” He unzipped his pants and poked his penis through. It was fat; the tip was the color of peanut butter, and the remainder was dark chocolate like the rest of him. “Suck it.”

“Calvin, I don't think that this is the best idea.”

“I'm paying for what I think is the best idea.” He put his hand on my shoulders and pressed me down. “Suck it.”

I looked up at him. “Let's go to the room.”

“No.” He seemed aggravated.

“We might get caught here,” I whined.

“I want you to do it now.” He pulled me to my feet. “Just put it in your mouth.”

“I just think that this is a little risky.”

“Sometimes business is a risky thing.” He pushed me to my knees. “I'm paying for head, not excuses.” With his free hand, he unbuckled his pants and they fell to the ground. “You suck my dick right here and right now.”

I dropped to my knees and took him into my hand.

“I'm paying three thousand dollars and you telling me where and when I can and can't have it? Suck my dick.”

He was so thick that I couldn't get my hand completely around it. He grabbed the rail on both sides of him as I spit him down then stroked and sucked him hard. I was taking him in almost to the shaft. He was long—an inch more and he'd be performing a tonsillectomy.

In a few minutes, he pulled out of my mouth, ejaculated into his hand and licked his fingers clean. I guess that's the kinky shit that Stefani was talking about.

Once we were in his room, I threw myself on the bed. I was drained.

“No sleeping tonight.” He had already stripped down to his bare necessities. He climbed on top of me and was already hard again. “I want you to fuck me.”

“Right now?”

He rolled off of me. “Take off your clothes.” He looked serious. “Everything.” He grabbed his suitcase.

“Whoa, what are we going to do?” I thought him licking his own cum was what made him a freak. “What's in there?”

“Just get naked.” He looked sober.

“This isn't going to be anything crazy, right?”

“It might be.”

I wanted to run. “Calvin, you're scaring me.”

He unzipped his bag and pulled out a leather panty harness with a black 8-inch rubber cock attached. “You don't have to be scared.” He walked toward me and placed it in my hand. “I want you to put this on and fuck me in my ass.”

I wanted to throw up. “Are you serious?”

“Very. I treat myself to this every once in a while.” Then he looked at me cautiously. “I'm not gay.”

Yeah right, and neither is Elton John
. “You want me to do you?”

In a way, I was relieved that that's all he wanted me to do, but at the same time I was absolutely grossed out that that's what he wanted me to do. I didn't even have to sleep with him. This was easy money.

I thought about my bank account and got down to stripping. I strapped on that harness, lubed the rubber dong down with some KY gel, and as he lay on his back with his legs wrapped around my thighs, I entered him.

I started gently and then got rough. He was a man that could take it. I fucked him like the dick was really mine. I manhandled that li'l punk bitch the rest of the night; had him calling out my name. I spanked him and even made him suck on the dick after I took it out of his ass.
Yuck
!

 

 

The next day I received a call at noon to tell me that I was meeting a man named Norman Hall in an hour. Stefani informed me that Mr. Hall wasn't a lawyer, but a businessman who happened to be in town. He was forty-two years old, from Ohio, and didn't mind using his real name.

“He ain't a freak like the one I had last night, right?”

“Not to my knowledge. He used us once before. I don't have anything listed on him, other than him being a big guy.”

“Big like what?”

She laughed. “I don't think he's fat, just built.”

“He better not be fat. After what I had to do last night, I can't take any more.” I was serious.

 

 

When Norman answered the door, I was living in a world of intimidation. He was NFL defensive lineman big and reminded me of Suge Knight. He was tall, built, and sexy.

“Hi, I'm—my name is Michelle.” I struggled with my name.

“Hi, Michelle.” His handshake pulled me into the room then he pointed at the bed. “Have a seat.”

There was a high-tech camera mounted on a tripod right in front of the bed. He walked over to the closet then came back with an envelope and handed it to me.

There were five $100 bills in it.

“What is this for?”

He smiled as he stepped behind the camera. “I want to take some pictures of you.”

“Pictures of me? I don't know if we do that.”

“Yes.” He put his finger over his lips. “This is our little secret.”

“I don't know if I can do this.”

The flash went off, and I jumped.

“You do now.”

“I don't think I should do this.”

His huge frame moved over to mine like an elephant to an ant. He took my purse and placed it on the dresser. “Take off your clothes.” He was wasting no time. “Take off your clothes and let me see your ass.”

“Who's going to see these pictures?” I asked as he helped me undress.

“Just me. I jack off a lot.” He pulled off my shirt. “Nice tits.” He took my breast into his mouth and sucked hard. “Get on the bed and do something sexy.”