Hittin' It Out the Park (29 page)

Sexy began to feel the early rumblings of excitement as she easily led Randy down the path of mistrust toward Cheryl. “She underestimated you. Thought she could manipulate you into going along with her bold-faced lies.”

“The sad thing about it . . . I probably would have gone along with anything she said, except this. Becoming a father is dear to my heart. My father deserted me and never looked back. I learned from him not to take that role lightly. I'm going to be there every step of the way for my child . . . if I ever have one,” he said glumly.

On cue, Sexy began rubbing his arm comfortingly. “You're still young. Of course you'll have a child one day. In my opinion, you're too young to be a parent. You need to get a lot more life experiences before you take on a serious role like that. In a way, Cheryl did you a favor by showing her true colors. It would have been a shame for you to think you were on the verge of fatherhood while she was playing you like a fiddle. You owe it to yourself to put your full focus on your new career. The Yankees are banking on you getting them to the World Series. My advice is that you work hard and play hard. Live life to the fullest, and when the day comes for you to put all your energy into Little Randy, at least you'll have a lot of wisdom to share with him.”

“Little Randy,” he repeated with a grin. “I like the sound of that. But I wouldn't mind a girl, either. All I want is to have a healthy child.” He gave a little groan of despair and rubbed his forehead. “I'm young, but I was really looking forward to being called Daddy.”

Sexy scooted closer, lightly caressing Randy's shoulder. “I heard some of the wives talking about how Cheryl made you over. Made you take speech classes to get rid of your Southern accent. They said she even changed up your style of dressing.”

“She did it for my own good. So I could feel confident when I had to speak in public.”

“How's that working for you—do you feel confident?”

“Not really. It's aggravating and makes me feel more self-conscious having to think about everything I say before I say it.”

“I already told you that I like your Southern accent and that you sound a lot like T.I.”

Flattered, Randy broke into a grin.

“That Southern drawl of yours is sexy. Turns me on. Listen, I don't want you to be guarded when you're around me, Randy. I want you to be yourself.”

“Thanks. It means a lot to know you feel that way. I get so tired of pretending to be somebody I'm not. Cheryl means well, but—”

“No disrespect, but I don't think she means well, Randy. When you love somebody, you accept them for who they are. I believe that Cheryl was afraid to have your baby.”

“Why would she be afraid?” Randy asked, frowning.

“You have to understand that someone as superficial and elitist as she is would believe that you'd produce an inferior child—a child with flaws,” Sexy said, watching him intently as her words sank in. She saw the muscles in his face tighten; watched him flinch.

“You saying she was afraid she'd have a child who looked and acted like me?”

Sexy nodded grimly. “Cheryl is fake, Randy. Even her friendship with that gay guy, Stephen is fake. She's into trends after all, and every New York sophisticate has a homo friend these days. Being married to you gave her the money to live the lifestyle she'd dreamed of, but she didn't sign up to go as far as to bear your child.”

Looking anguished, Randy grabbed his head and bent over, looking down at the floor. He stayed in that position for a few moments, and then sat up abruptly. “I realize that every word you spoke is the truth, but I'm so confused. I feel like I should be insisting on a divorce, but despite the way she tried to play me, Cheryl is my wife, and I still have feelings for her.”

“You're too emotional to make a life-altering decision right now. Why don't you stay here with me while you try and get your head straight? Until you can figure out what you're gonna do about your marriage.”

Deep in thought, Randy nodded mechanically. “I never dreamed she could be so underhanded, though.”

“The more we talk about your wife's deceit, the worse you're gonna feel. So, on a different topic, how do you like the new place?” Sexy waved a hand through the air, indicating her newly furnished place.

“It's nice. You have good taste.”

“I don't deserve the compliment,” she said, laughing. “I couldn't have done this without the help of the interior decorator you hired.”

“I did?”

Sexy feigned a worried look. “Don't you remember telling the realtor it was okay to send a decorator over here to help me? I hope you know I'd never spend your money without your permission. I'm not a gold-digger like Cheryl—”

“You said we were gonna keep her name out of our conversations?”

“I'm sorry. I didn't mean to mention her name.”

He turned toward Sexy and offered a weak smile. “It's cool. It's not like we can pretend she doesn't exist,” Randy said thoughtfully. “Anyway, back to the interior decoration . . . so much has happened in the past week, it sort of slipped my mind that I agreed to pay for that.”

“Do you remember, now?”

“Yeah, I remember. And for the record, I would never call you a gold digger. You're the most honest and realest person in my life right now.”

Sexy could feel the corners of her mouth twitching and threatening to spread into a triumphant smile. Suppressing the urge to gloat over her victory, she leaned in and covered Randy's lips with a big kiss.

“You haven't seen the finished bedroom, yet,” she said with a sly grin as she led him out of the living room.

“It's nice,” Randy said, admiring the Moroccan-themed room.

“I wanna show you something.” Sexy picked up the remote and clicked on the wall-mounted TV. A famous reality-TV couple appeared on the screen—naked and in the midst of copulating. The camera panned in on the well-endowed man who pulled out of his girl's pussy and commenced to rubbing his thick dick all over her face, and commanding her to suck it.

“That's what I want you to do to me,” Sexy stated. “I wanna get freaky with you.”

“You want to act raunchy like that? You want me to treat you like a whore?” Randy sounded incredulous.

“Mm-hmm. That's exactly what I want.” Sexy stood in front of Randy, rubbing her ass against the growing erection in his pants. She bent over, twerking in time to the music that played in the background of the sex tape.

It didn't take a lot of convincing for Randy to begin grinding on Sexy's ass. Taking it a step further, he pulled up her body-hugging stretchy dress, and took a deep breath as he gazed at Sexy's bare ass.

Bent over, Sexy parted her legs so that Randy could get to her intimate parts more easily. And when he thrust a thick finger inside her, she gasped with pleasure. He slid his finger into her again and again and Sexy humped his finger, welcoming the delicious ravishment.

The tingling through her body was becoming more and more intense and she could tell that Randy's finger was soaked with her juices. “Smear it on my asshole,” she invited.

“Huh?”

“Use my juices as a lubricant and fuck me in the ass.”

“Are you for real?”

“I'm dead serious. Take your pants off and come get some ass.”

Randy withdrew his finger, and his breathing was ragged as he stripped out of his pants. Sexy sauntered over to the bed and assumed a position on all fours. Wiggling her ass, she beckoned Randy.

“Um, I . . . uh, I ain't never done no anal sex before,” he stammered. “I mean, we've talked about it before, but—”

“There's a first time for everything; now come on and get up in this, lover.”

Randy gripped her slender hips and entered her delicately, but Sexy writhed and bucked. “Give it to me, Randy; fuck this ass the same way you fuck a wet pussy.”

Goaded by Sexy's demands, he pushed in deeper, moved faster, his hands rocking her hips as he thrust his hard dick deeper than he imagined it could go.

“That's what I want. I want to feel that dick deep in my ass.”

A primal groan emerged from the back of Randy's throat as Sexy bucked backward, her body jerking out of control. Caught up in what he considered decadent pleasure, he pushed her forward until her face was buried in the pillow, her ass tooted up in the air. On his knees and anchoring her body with his strong hands, Randy gave her a forceful thrust, his thick length filling her to the hilt. He fucked her hard and passionately.

“Damn, you got some good ass,” he bellowed.

“Play with my pussy,” she instructed, and Randy circled her clit with the pad of his finger, and then inserted his long finger into her juicy depths. Sexy's eyes rolled back in her head as the warmth of an orgasm bubbled up inside her. Lost in passion, Randy panted as he continued to desperately move in and out.

“Oh, my God,” she shrieked as one final, hard thrust sent her body shuddering with a wave of ecstasy. Weak and spent, her knees gave out and she collapsed onto her stomach. Randy collapsed along with her, still stroking and groaning. He praised the goodness of her tight asshole moments before toppling into a blissful abyss.

“I don't care what you think, Randy; someone framed me.”

Randy looked down at his clasped hands, then back up at Cheryl, whose red eyes were so swollen they couldn't produce or hold any more tears. “Cheryl, you know what? I actually want to believe you. But even if somehow someone did get past the doorman and into our apartment to plant a packet of birth control pills, how in the hell did they fix it that your urine and blood shows you've been taking the pills? And we've been to two different labs, Cheryl. Both of which you picked.”

Cheryl rubbed her hands over her uncombed hair, then clutched her head and once again broke out in sobs. “I feel like I'm going insane. I don't know, Randy. I love you, and now I've lost you, and not because of anything I did wrong.”

Randy slowly stood up, walked to the closet and pulled out a suitcase. “How can you say taking birth control pills behind my back all this time without telling me isn't wrong, Cheryl?” He started throwing unfolded shirts, pants, and underwear inside.

“But I'm not on birth control pills!” Cheryl started pounding the bed on which she was sitting. “I haven't used any contraceptive since we married. I swear.”

“I don't know what to tell you, Cheryl. Like I said, I want to believe you, but at the same time, I can't let you play me like some country hick. Because I come from Alabama doesn't mean I don't mind being played the fool.” He snapped the suitcase shut. “Even by a beautiful woman like you.”

Beautiful?
She thought back to the evening she and Randy had first met—the $3,000 Dolce & Gabbana white lace mini, diamonds dripping from her ears, and every hair in perfect place. Yes, she was certainly beautiful then. Cheryl looked up at the mirror on the wall opposite her. Her eyes were red and so puffy they were almost closed, her face was raw and swollen, and her hair was all over her head. She met him like
that
and he was leaving her like
this
?
No
. She shook her head furiously.
He's not leaving me. He can't leave me.

But what could she do to stop him? And how the hell did all this happen? It had to be Sexy who put the birth control pills in her night table, but how could she prove it? And Randy was right; how was it that traces of the contraceptive were found both in her urine and blood? It wasn't like Sexy could have bribed someone at the lab; they didn't even know what lab they could use until looking a few up on the Internet. How did Sexy pull it off? She buried her face in her hands. That damn Sexy had finally snagged Randy for herself.

“Randy, can't we talk about this?”

“I don't think there's anything to talk about, Cheryl. I'll call a lawyer tomorrow to see about starting divorce proceedings.”

Divorce? We haven't been married a year. We've not even celebrated one damn anniversary.
“You know who did this, don't you?” she said, walking over to Randy who was throwing sneakers in a duffel bag.

Randy looked up at her, but said nothing.

“Your little innocent girlfriend, Sexy Sanchez,” Cheryl said, venom in her voice. “Somehow that little bitch managed to get in here.” She looked at Randy through narrowed eyes. “I bet she stole your key and made a copy. She planted the birth control packet.”

Randy laughed. “And then she stole the keys to every diagnostics lab and clinic in the city, and coated every single test tube with some concoction that, when mixed with your blood or pee, would show you were on birth control, huh? Do you know how dumb you sound, Cheryl?”

“How dumb
I
sound?” Cheryl looked at Randy while slowly shaking her head. “Did you actually say that to me?” She walked over to Randy and eased down on a chair. “You never would have talked to me like that before, Randy. I can't say it feels good to hear you talking to me like that now.”

Randy shrugged. “Sorry if I hurt your feelings. That wasn't my intention. But now maybe you know how you made me feel.”

“What?” Cheryl screwed her face up. “When have I ever made you feel dumb?”

“Oh, how about you when you insisted that I go learn how to talk? I have a Southern accent, but it doesn't mean I don't know how to talk.”

“The diction lessons?” Cheryl sucked her teeth. “We talked about it and you agreed with me, Randy, and you know it! Neither one of us wanted you to sound as if you didn't know how to put together a sentence when talking to the media or making personal appearances.”

“Yeah, well, some folks find the way I talk quite homey,” Randy said sullenly. “In fact, some people think I talk like T.I.”