Message from a Mistress (13 page)

At times she forgot or belittled that she almost had an affair of her own.

At times she forgot or diminished that Darren had turned her on from the first day he walked into her office for the interview.

At times she forgot or blocked out that the
only
thing that saved her pussy from Darren was his homosexuality.

Darren had been so fine and so much Renee’s type that she never wanted Jackson to meet him because she knew if he flat-out asked her about him that she might blush from head to toe.

And so, knowing that as much as she loved Jackson, another man had drawn her attention and sparked her fire, then how could she not believe that another woman could do that for him?

And how did that affect her ability to forgive him?

Renee tipped her head back and swallowed the liquor with a wince. She was sick of all the questions. Sick of all the uncertainty.

And as she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror with the shot glass still to her lips and filled with memories of lusting for her younger assistant, Renee was feeling particularly sick of herself.

Aria stepped out of the bathroom stall and danced to the music thumping against the walls. She washed her hands in the stylish and modern bowl sink as she checked to make sure her hair and make-up were still on point.

A night out on the town was just what she and Kingston needed. Usually he resisted her urgings to dine at a trendy New York eatery and then find an upscale and vibrant spot to have drinks and a few dances. But not this Friday night.

Aria even planned on blogging about her night out with her hubbie. With one last wink at herself, Aria walked through the blacked-out revolving glass door.

“Long time no see.”

Aria looked up at the sound of the voice and she paused at the stranger standing before her.

“Do I know you?” she asked with a polite but decidedly distant smile as she took in the short, obese, freckled man standing in the darkness of the corner.

“Oh sthit you know me,” he said with a lisp, his tongue seeming to be attached to his full bottom lip as he spoke.

And then Aria remembered. He was one of her tricks from those crazy-ass summers with her country cousin Jontae. But she covered it well, still feigning ignorance even though she clearly remembered that she and Jontae had run a double on him, slipped him some X and then bounced with his jewelry, his loot, and his leather coat when he fell asleep.

“I’m sorry, but I think you have me confused with someone,” she said in her best “black girl who clearly went to an Ivy League college” voice. “Have a good night, though.”

Aria’s heart was straight pounding as she turned to walk away. She gasped and closed her eyes when his pudgy hands closed around her upper arm. She snatched her arm away. “Do I have to call security? I said I do not know you,” she said, being sure to maintain her Valley Girl accent.

She was trying not to go ghetto on his ass, but she couldn’t hold it back much longer. If he didn’t release her, she was going to crack his nuts and bust his damn jaw. Straight up. One thing about Club Visions, there was a metal detector at the door. So it was just her and him, and Aria swore she could take the fat fucker.

He shoved his hands into the pockets of his dark denims.

Her eyes dropped to watch him closely.

“Once
th
a
sh
trick always a
sh
trick,” he said snidely with his heavy tongue before he started to make his money fly up and rain in her face.

Aria’s eyes flashed, but she kept her anger in check because her husband—her future—was waiting for her and this clown—her past—wasn’t worth fucking up her happy home because she wanted to flip and whip his fat, high-yellow ass.

She turned away and he grabbed her arm again. “Hell no, bitch, you gone give me money or some ass. Choice is yours.”

Aria snatched away again and roughly pushed his chest, repulsed by the feel of his jellylike breasts beneath her hands. He stumbled backwards.

“What the fuck is going on?”

Aria flew to Kingston standing at the end of the hall. “I don’t know if he’s drunk or high, but I told him he has me confused with someone else.”

Kingston took her and pushed her securely behind him. “Man, you put your hands on my wife,” he said in a cold roar, his eyes filled with rage before he took two steps forward and two-pieced the man’s fat jowls.

Bad-dap.

The man fell back in the corner, his fat tongue truly hanging out of his mouth now. Aria, feeling somewhat guilty, stepped forward and grabbed Kingston’s arm to hold him back from striking the man again.

“Kingston, your hands! Don’t hurt your hands,” she exclaimed, knowing his love for his medical profession wouldn’t let him risk injuring his moneymakers.

With one last glare at the man struggling to rise to his feet, Kingston locked his hand with hers and pulled her through the growing crowd and out the door.

Thank God,
Aria thought, because she was acutely aware of the eyes on them.

She was glad when the valet brought their car around and they were snuggled safely inside on the plush butter-soft leather seats.

“Are you okay?” he asked, reaching over to clasp her hand and massage her wrist with his thumb.

“I’m fine,” she told him, her heart still racing.

“I wonder who the hell he thought you were?” he asked as he steered with one hand.

She shrugged. “I guess it’s true everyone has a twin out there in the world,” she said lightly. “But I’m cool. And you handled business. So let’s forget about it, baby. We can go somewhere else or we can head home and get into some other things.”

Kingston shifted his hand down to squeeze her thigh through the silk jersey of her charcoal gray wrap dress.

She still felt that nervous anxiety from the close call, but she was glad she had changed his focus.

“So now that we’re married for a couple of months we have to keep all the sex at home?” he asked, pulling to a stop to look over at her.

Aria laughed huskily as Kingston leaned over to kiss her. “So what you saying?” she asked softly as he licked her bottom lip.

“I still want my lady in the street and my freak
wherever
the mood hits, you know.”

Aria brought her hands up to grasp the sides of his handsome face. “What did I do to deserve you?” she asked in total honesty as her past seemed to chase her.

“Just being you…and the promise to give me some beautiful babies with your face and my eyes.”

Aria opened her mouth and then closed it. In that moment she wanted so badly to tell him the truth, more than ever before. Maybe it was the trust and love she saw in his eyes. Maybe it was the fear that she should reveal more about her past before someone else did. Who knew?

She just didn’t want the secret between them any longer, and she knew that ultimately it wasn’t fair to him….

Aria sighed as she moved away from the window of their laundry room. She hadn’t found the courage that night to reveal her secrets to him, and with her fears that Jessa had used those secrets to destroy the foundation of what she hoped was a solid marriage, her worst fears had come true.

She moved back to the hamper with Kingston’s dirty clothes and began to check the pockets of all of her husband’s clothes. She had no guilt or qualms over her chore because it wasn’t her first time.

In truth, in the beginning of their relationship Aria had done it all in her quest to catch Kingston. As the years went by and her searching and snooping became futile, she had eased up considerably—but she had never forgotten her tricks.

And rule number one was to not let him know he was a suspect, because then he would tighten up his shit and make it that much harder to catch him.

She’d checked cell phone bills for unusual numbers or long phone calls.

She’d checked his boxers for sex stains.

She’d played like she was giving him head just to smell his crotch.

She even used to check his mileage and gas usage.

She’d fucked the shit out of him when he came in late, and he’d better be ready, very willing, and all the way able.

She’d dropped by his office randomly.

She’d done it all except use a tracking device on his car, buy one of those home DNA infidelity test kits to find traces of semen in his boxers, or buy any spy equipment.

Aria had done it all, and not once had she caught him doing anything. Not once.

Shouldn’t I trust my husband? Hasn’t he proven himself worthy?

Sighing, she dug into his pockets looking for anything and everything to claim or disclaim Jessa as his lover.

She just couldn’t help herself.

J
aime would admit to no one that she dialed not only her husband’s cell phone number but the cell phones of the other two husbands as well every ten minutes—at least. She also tried to remember the name of the charter company and then searched for a receipt, but came up empty. She was sure the captain of the boat had a way of calling ashore, but she had no way of knowing how to get a call put through to the boat.

And so the wait continued.

Needing a distraction, Jaime walked out onto the front porch. She wondered if Jessa’s lover knew about her message. Did he put her up to it or would he be just as shocked by its delivery as Jaime and her friends?

Squinting her eyes against the sun, Jaime looked out at Richmond Hills. She had absolutely loved the subdivision from the very first day Eric had carried her across the threshold. It spoke of everything she cherished.

Everything she had ever hoped and dreamed for as she thought out her life plan. Education. Pledge a sorority. Meet and marry the successful husband. Move into the perfect house. Live the perfect white picket dream with two kids, two vehicles, a timeshare in Florida, and a dog.

She knew that her actions had been the fatal blow to the foundation they’d built, but now, brick by brick, he was tearing them down and doing far more damage than she felt she had.

“Afternoon, Jaime.”

She turned her head and focused on her next-door neighbor. Mrs. Killinger knelt down beside her flower garden on the side of her house. “Hello, Mrs. Killinger,” she called over with a wave, eyeing the short and plump woman who reminded her of a Munchkin.

“Oh shit,” she muttered as Mrs. Killinger made her way over. She really just wanted to wrestle with her thoughts and not have idle chatter or gossip.

“Jessa moved, huh?” Mrs. Killinger asked, her skin as dark and smooth as onyx and her eyes bright and sparkling.

Jaime’s heart pounded. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Didn’t see that coming, but I guess you girls are all so close that you all knew about it, huh?” Mrs. Killinger asked, placing a gloved hand on her hip as she looked up at Jaime, who leaned against the large white post of her porch.

And this is what life will be like in the aftermath of Jessa’s betrayal,
Jaime thought, keeping a forced smile on her face.
Questions on top of questions and lies on top of lies
.

“We didn’t keep many secrets from each other,” Jaime said, wishing the woman and her nosiness would go the hell back in her own yard.

Mrs. Killinger smiled, showing off what had to be false teeth. “There is nothing like a good friend.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Jaime said, hoping the shortness of answers would clue the woman in that she didn’t feel like talking—especially about that undercover trick Jessa Bell.

“I was so shocked to see that moving truck this morning.”

Jaime just nodded.

“Surprised none of you are at the new house helping her unpack, as close as you all were.”

Jaime just shrugged.

“Oh. Humph,” Mrs. Killinger said, turning to look down the street. Her face fixed with a frown.

Jaime turned and followed her line of vision to see Jasper Wiggins and Kelly Ortiz talking across the white picket fence separating their homes. Their conversation looked innocent enough. “Something wrong, Mrs. K?” she asked.

“Humph. They do a lot of talking across that fence,” she said, her disapproval clear.

Jaime’s eyes shifted back to them. “They’re just talking.”

Mrs. Killinger sucked air between her teeth. “Humph,” was all that she said.

Jaime wondered if Jessa and her lover had been the talk of the neighborhood. Did an overly observant neighbor notice signs that Jaime, Aria, and Renee had all missed?

“Them two gone get enough of thinking their spouses are stupid. People dying these days behind these affairs and shit.”

Jaime was surprised by the older woman’s profanity. “So they’re messing around, Mrs. Killinger?”

Mrs. Killinger shot Jaime a hard stare. “They stay in one another’s pants, but you ain’t heard that from me,” she spat.

Jaime again was surprised, this time by the woman’s obvious anger.

“You okay, Mrs. K?” she asked.

“I just hate a liar and a cheat,” she said, removing her gloves to ram them in the back pocket of her jeans.

Jaime thought of Jessa and her unmasked lover and said, “Me too.”

But then she thought of her own explosive sexcapades and flushed with guilt and shame.

“They gone get enough of that Motel Six. That I know.”

Jaime started in surprise. “How do you know that?”

“Humph. This old woman know a lot of shit,” Mrs. Killinger said, leveling her eyes on Jaime.

Her stomach fell so low she was sure she could shit it out with ease. Jaime’s brows lowered over her eyes a bit. “Is there something you know that I should know, Mrs. K?” she asked, hating to reveal even one glimmer of insecurity about her marriage.

“Oh, goodness no. Eric adores you,” Mrs. Killinger said with a dismissive wave of her hand.

Jaime took that assurance with a grain of salt because Mrs. Killinger was wrong about what Eric felt toward her and she could also be wrong about Eric’s fidelity. Eric fronted like he adored her, but deep down Jaime was sure he hated her and wanted to punish her.

“I better get back to my garden,” Mrs. K said, shooting one more angry stare at Jasper and Kelly before she turned and walked toward her house.

“Mrs. Killinger,” Jaime called out behind her.

She stopped and turned. “Yes, Jaime?”

“What did you do about your husband?” Jaime asked, curiosity getting the better of her.

“Well, it wasn’t just about my husband. It’s about the marriage overall. You know what I mean?”

Jaime nodded in understanding.

“I had to weigh the good versus the bad and, baby, the bad was winning,” she said with a chuckle.

“So you left?” Jaime asked, not being able to even imagine leaving Eric.

“No, I put my foot down and told that whoring Negro that he had to shape up or ship out. Mind you, my knee was in his chest and a box cutter to his throat at the time—but he got the point.”

Jaime frowned a bit as Mrs. Killinger laughed as if that was the funniest thing she ever heard.

“Seriously, baby, I was in a rut with that fine man. I was spinning in one spot not knowing what to do. And I knew if I didn’t do something I’d keep spinning in that one spot like a fool-ass screw and run myself in the ground.” Mrs. Killinger winked at Jaime. “I got tired of getting screwed by him and being screwed by the situation. So I handled it.”

“You handled it, huh?” Jaime asked, imagining a younger and more vibrant Mrs. Killinger wielding a knife and a knee.

Mrs. Killinger just laughed.

She waved Jaime off as she walked over to one of the rocking chairs on her porch. She put her foot up on the chair and wrapped her arms around her leg.

For so long Jaime had gone along with Eric punishing her, but she had pulled one good piece of advice from her elderly neighbor with the bright smile. It wasn’t just about the affair. It was about the marriage. And long before today, Jaime’s marriage had lost its shine.

How much more of Eric’s cold and punishing treatment could she take? How much more could she pretend to the world that her husband didn’t treat her like shit on his shoes?

Tears filled her eyes. She was so tired of being so lonely in her marriage.

Only the sporadic clink of utensils on plates echoed in the dining room. Jaime looked across the table at Eric as he ate their meal of meat loaf, mashed potatoes, and string beans in total silence…just like always.

“How was work, Eric?” she asked with hesitance, trying to stop the widening gap between them.

Silence.

She pressed on even as her hurt feelings nearly choked her.

“My mother came over today and helped me bake a red velvet cake,” she told him, knowing it was his favorite.

More silence.

“Ooh, how could I forget,” she said, forcing excitement into her voice. “Today the Martins had it out on their front lawn. She egged his new BMW and slashed the tires. It felt like watching a soap opera live.”

He looked up at her pointedly, tore a chunk from the garlic bread he held before he shoved it into his mouth. He eyed her with hostility as he chewed but he said nothing. Absolutely nothing.

Jaime was the first to look away and she knew he relished that he’d won yet another small and insignificant battle.

“Eric, this is ridiculous,” Jaime snapped, her emotions causing the outburst. “If you’re going to ignore me, why even come to the dinner table? If you’re going to ignore me, why do you even come home? If you are going to ignore me, why are we together?” she asked, hating the anguish she felt soaking her words.

She watched him with pain-filled eyes as he pushed his plate away and pushed his chair back to rise to his feet as he wiped his mouth with a cloth napkin. “Be in my room in an hour,” he said shortly, dropping his napkin atop his plate before turning to walk out of the dining room.

Jaime closed her eyes as a wave of revulsion caused her to shiver. She didn’t think there was any woman who detested her marital bed. Their sex had been lackluster before, and she had wished for some inventiveness. She would give both her legs to go back to the ho-hum sex of the past.

After she washed the dishes and took a quick shower, Jaime locked up the house and then made her way to Eric’s room naked as the day she was born. The door was open—yet another sign that she could enter only to satisfy his perverse sexual appetites. With every step she wondered why she allowed him to treat her this way, and with every step she knew her answer. Guilt and shame.

He was standing nude beside the bed removing his spectacles. The room was brightly lit—another variation from their sex life pre-affair. Her eyes shifted to his penis. It was slender and not very long, resting above his nuts. Even when it hardened, he only picked up another inch—maybe two.

She recalled Pleasure’s long, curving, thick dick heavily hanging away from his body like a muscled arm and she shivered, knowing she was wrong to think of him. Wrong to compare him to her husband.

Wrong to still desire him.

“Put it on,” he ordered, pointing to a red patent leather contraption on the foot of the bed.

She stepped forward and picked up the teddy, releasing a heavy breath as she stepped into it and pulled the studded straps onto her shoulders. Her breasts were pushed through two studded holes and the crotchless plastic stuck to her pussy lips. The g-string was way too far up her ass.

“This is what a no-good whore like you should wear,” he said.

So it begins,
she thought. “Eric, stop this,” she begged. “When are you going to forgive me?
”

His eyes raked her from head to toe as he reached into his drawer and pulled out a small whip. Her eyes widened. She held out her hand. “No, Eric!” she said forcefully as she pointed her finger at him.

He slapped the whip softly against his own thigh as he circled her. “Every time I listen to that voice mail, it sounds like your stripper lover is whipping something on you, and since my dick can’t be enough for you I decided to buy a little help.”

She felt his hand at the back of her neck and he pushed down until she was bent over.

Whap.

She gasped at the first feel of the whip against her fleshy buttocks. It wasn’t painful but it stung—just the way he wanted it to.

Whap.

He walked around her with his dick in one hand and the whip in another. “Did you suck his dick?” he asked as he tapped the slender tip of his dick against her lips.

Same questions. Same humiliation.

“Did you, slut?” he asked again, angry.

Whap.

Jaime raised her hands and pushed him, one of her hands landing against his testicles, and she rose and stepped back. “That’s enough, Eric,” she shouted at him, tears streaming from her eyes as he hollered out and grabbed his nuts. “I don’t deserve this shit!”

He limped over to her and pushed her shoulders roughly until her body was pressed against the wall. “You deserve this and much more. I have always taken care of you and loved you and respected you. And now I know that you never did the same for me, up in some motherfucking strip-club fucking a stripper. You lucky I don’t kill you, Jaime, because
that’s
what your ass deserves.”

Jaime was frozen with fear at the look of rage in Eric’s eyes.

“So unless you want me to throw your cheating ass out on the street to see if you can fuck your way back into the beautiful home, nice car, and nice clothes that I gave you, then you will do what the fuck I tell you to do or get the fuck out.”

Jaime vaguely noted that the plastic of the teddy was sticking to the wall as she felt the fire of Eric’s anger. “I am sorry. I made a mistake. One mistake, but I love you, Eric, and I want you back. I want my marriage, I want to be happy again,” she confessed to him softly, barely able to hear herself over the hard pounding of her heart.

“I said all I have to say to you, Jaime,” he told her roughly, pushing her against the wall before he stepped back. “You made our marriage this way.”

“But I love you,” she whispered.

“Love this dick,” Eric told her coldly with a cruel twist to his lips as he pointed the whip at it.

As she dropped to her knees, closing her eyes and taking Eric’s limp and short dick in her mouth, the tears flowed but Jaime knew she couldn’t—wouldn’t—admit that her marriage was over. She refused to believe that this would be the footnote of the years they’d shared.

His dick hardened against her tongue and he roughly grabbed her hair and thrust his hips forward as her lips cupped him. “Suck it, you no-good bitch. Suck it, slut.”