My Mans Best Friend (9781622860241) (4 page)

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Authors: Tresser Henderson

BOOK: My Mans Best Friend (9781622860241)
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Instead of entering me, Jaquon walked around the table until he was standing over me. I turned to see his extension angling toward me.
Could my mouth even wrap around it?
I thought. This was definitely not a one-handed blow job.
He smiled down at me before stepping forward until the tip of his manhood was touching my lips. I licked it, trying to size its girth before opening my mouth to consume him. I couldn't take him all, but I worked what I could using both of my hands to stroke him. His moans let me know he was enjoying what I was doing and it only made me want to please him more.
After I lubricated him for a few minutes, he pulled away saying, “Not yet.” I could tell by the way the head was swelling he was getting close to climaxing.
He moved back down to my womanhood looking down at my moist opening. Then he grabbed his extension, shaking it at me, and asked, “Are you ready?”
Hell, nawh,
was what my mind screamed, but I nodded yes.
He climbed atop the table like a carnivore attacking its prey. I looked at him. Then I looked at his massive Johnson angling its way to my entrance. I wanted it, but I'm not going to lie, I was fearful too. My curiosity wanted to know what it felt like. I wanted to know how deep he would penetrate my inner walls. Jaquon let me know in a matter of seconds, pushing his way deep as his Johnson split me open. Deeper and deeper he went until I didn't think he could go any farther.
Suddenly, he pushed my legs up to my shoulders and I began to tremble. You would have thought I was lying on a block of ice the way my body was shaking. I didn't know if it was my body trying to reject its invader or my nervousness at such a monstrosity penetrating me. Either way, I continued to tremble.
Trying to accept his pleasure was a task that made it hard to enjoy his strokes. If pain was pleasure, I had a hell of a lot of it. After a little while, my body started to get used to its invader. As I relaxed, my walls gently accepted him deeper, so deep that this man hit something within me making water run as if I was pregnant and my water had just broke. I had no clue what the hell was going on, but he smiled and kept stroking his way to a climax.
This man had me feeling things I had never felt before. I don't know if it was his ruggedness or the sensual way he gazed at me, but something about him tantalized me. Maybe it was the way he licked his lips and enticed these hips. Whatever it was, I had fallen hard. Maybe the beast went deeper than I thought, tapping at the core of my brain, telling it to worship him. Whatever this feeling was, I didn't like it. I wasn't supposed to fall for the one-night stand. In this case, he was supposed to be my score.
As soon as we were done, Jaquon climbed off of me and began to get dressed. He never spoke a word, sliding his clothes on as I watched silently. I wanted to speak but exhaustion and soreness had me. I lay on my side, holding my stomach, wanting to pretend to be asleep, but how could I? I was still on top of a kitchen table lying in a puddle of my own juices. What could I say anyway? The sex was amazing. Maybe we could hook up some other time.
I could see guilt had started to creep upon his face. For a moment I felt bad that I contributed to his failing relationship. I hoped he would be able to work through explaining his infidelity to his girl. If it was any comfort to him, he did make me suffer having to deal with his immensity. My insides hurt like hell. I couldn't wait until he left so I could crawl into a warm bath and soak the pain away.
Jaquon walked to the door and looked at me one last time before exiting. I closed my eyes thinking how lucky I was to have had him for one night and the only score I had attained tonight was getting the biggest Johnson I had ever experienced.
Zacariah
Of all the people Essence had to show up with, she had to be with Jaquon. Talk about irony since he was my man's best friend. Thousands of men walking around in the area and she picks the one person who I disliked most. Here I was trying to get my game on and she shuts it down at halftime being with him. I hoped he didn't see me, especially with me trying to push up on this guy.
I stroked my hair turning my head quickly hoping Jaquon didn't see me with Red Bone. It would make his day to see me with this man, just so he could go back and inform Derrick about my little rendezvous.
Cooper was Red Bone's real name, and he swore up and down he was the Mack Daddy of smooth brothers. He looked as though his brotherhood was in question due to his light skin, curly hair, and green eyes acting as kryptonite to the ladies. And, yes, he lured me in nicely, but not with his hair or his eyes. He had me when I saw him sporting a Rolex and a Dolce and Gabbana velvet blazer with a crisp white shirt and black leather and suede moccasin-style Penny Loafers. He screamed
money
.
Of course, I couldn't act like I was taken by him. That's why I walked by him in my Asian-style printed dress accentuating my exposed back. The Jimmy Choo's lengthened my legs, making them sparkle like a trickling river on a sunny day. Soon as I passed him, he eyed me, just like I knew he would. I caught the eye of several other prospects also, but none of them interested me. That's because they were screaming, “I'm broke. Can you buy me a drink?”
Sitting down at an empty stool at the bar, I beckoned the bartender and asked for an apple martini. When he brought me my drink, he pointed at Red Bone and said it was taken care of. I lifted my glass and nodded in his direction. He smiled, and I said, “Gotcha!” to myself.
Moments later, he came over and introduced himself tome.
“My name is Zacariah.”
“Zachariah?” he questioned.
“No, it's Zacariah. Za ... car, as in car ... rhea, like diarrhea. Zacariah.”
“Okay, I got it now. It's a beautiful name for such a beautiful woman,” he said, looking at me lustfully.
This was the only part I hated about telling anybody my name. Every time anyone saw it, they thought I was a guy called Zachariah. I loved my name because it was sort of unique. I didn't hear many individuals with it, but sometimes it did become a burden with so many pronouncing it incorrectly.
Red Bone was a prosecuting attorney, which explained his pricey attire. He bragged on himself like he was giving a bio on how fabulous it was to be him. He told me about his forty-four hundred square foot home in the Hills, his Porsche coupe that he paid $83,000 for, and his collection of vintage cars. He had looks and money, but nothing else of interest to talk about. He bored me beyond belief. It was all about him, him, and please, let's talk about him some more. I had to sip my drink frequently to keep from yawning in his face and playing narcoleptic to his tiresome banter. Laughing when he laughed not knowing what the hell he was talking about, I acted like what he was saying was law itself. I really wanted him to shut the hell up and invite me to a nice, luxurious suite for a quick nightcap.
I snapped back to attention when I saw Essence and Jaquon walking in my direction. I couldn't let him catch me so I quickly excused myself and proceeded to the ladies' room. Maneuvering my way there, I cussed at myself, hoping Jaquon didn't see me. I didn't want to get busted, but I damn sure wasn't ready to leave without doing what I came here to do. I would not be a happy woman if I couldn't jack this man for some of this money he'd been talking about most of the night, but I would sit in this restroom until the place shut down so Jaquon wouldn't see me with him. I knew if I tried to exit, Red Bone would see me and make a scene somehow without even trying. Maybe if I wished hard enough, Essence would follow me in here. But hell, if I could make wishes come true, then I would wish for my own damn money and wouldn't need a man to give it to me.
Most people would wish for peace on earth and some other crap I'm not interested in. Me, I would wish for wealth beyond my wildest dreams. I mean, wealth that could afford me a big house with servants and a pool in the backyard. I would want a closet full of designer clothes and another full of pricy shoes. I would have cars, jewelry, and a plane to fly me anywhere my heart desired. Forget peace on earth. Call me selfish. Now, if I had unlimited wishes, maybe, but from the cartoons and fairy tales, you usually only got three and I wasn't about to waste them on a world that didn't give a damn about me.
Snapping back to the here and now, I wondered why Essence didn't come after me. This way I could tell her the deal and she could get Jaquon out of here. But no, that was too easy and nothing ever seems to come easy for me.
My entire life consisted of hard work. My mother and father were alcoholics who fought all the time over who drank the last can of beer or emptied the liquor bottle and put it back in the cabinet empty. I went without food sometimes due to their drinking. I went to school with dirty clothes and an uncombed head, which caused me to get picked on as a child. The only reason I got to eat lunch at school was because it was free due to our financial shortcomings and I was lucky then that Mama had sense enough to complete the needed forms. Funny how I never had food in the house, but my parents could find some change to scrap up to go pick up a pint of this and a can of that.
When I hit my teen years, I had basically learned how to survive on my own. Family turned their nose up at me because I wasn't worth the time or trouble. I was the nappy-headed child created by the alcoholic twosome. So that left me on my own. I stole. I schemed. I even robbed to keep my head afloat. That was, until I learned that men could take care of me if I took care of them. I used my body to get what I wanted. I had to do what I had to do to survive. By the age of twenty, I had lost my father. All that drinking caught up with him, and he died of cirrhosis of the liver. Even when the doctors told him he had to stop drinking or he would die, he let their words fall on deaf ears.
I guess Mama was still living. I didn't really know since I moved away from her and most of my family right after my dad passed away. His death only sent her spiraling further into the bottom of bottles. What reason did I have to stay, and I have never looked back. They didn't give a damn about me then, so why should they care about me now? I needed them when I was child, but I was not worth receiving the love I knew I deserved. So here I stand. Yes, I have a good man at home, but our relationship could end whenever. So I had to keep the money coming in to be able to take care of myself. I loved Derrick, but I loved money more.
Zacariah
Pacing the mushroom-colored tile floor, I noticed I was not alone. I was so deep in my thoughts that I didn't notice a pair of legs behind the white stall door. Homegirl was either doing the number two or drunk as hell and couldn't find her way out. As long as I had been standing here, I should have heard something, but there were no sounds coming from the other side of the door. Some toilet paper should have been pulled or some flushing should have been happening by now, but nothing.
“Hello, are you okay in there?” I asked.
The chick didn't say anything.
“Hello in there, are you okay?”
The stall door clicked, but the door never opened. I wanted to push it open, but my mind led me to all of the horror movies I had seen. Soon as I pushed this door open, a maniac would jump out and bludgeon me to death.
“Get it together, girl,” I whispered to myself. Then I started to wonder, was I the crazy one here? I'm the one talking to myself out loud.
When I got ready to step forward, the stall door eased open. Out stepped this short, skinny female with mascara running down her face. It was clearly evident she had been crying. The mascara made her eyes resemble a raccoon's. Her appearance scared me for a minute because she stood there looking bewildered and not saying anything. She was not an ugly chick. She was actually a very pretty woman. And for me to say that in her state of disarray, you knew she was nice looking. She was just having a moment taking her to a not-too-good-looking status. She looked at me, but it was like her spirit had disappeared from her body.
“Are you okay?” I asked wanting to reach out to her but thought better of it.
She stepped out of the stall, shaking her head no. Her arms started to hug herself tightly as more tears streamed down her cheeks. Even though she was cute, her body was that of a crackhead. She had no curves at all, and her breasts looked like those of a girl just starting puberty. I started to run out and go pick her up a Southern dinner with mash potatoes and gravy, macaroni and cheese, and a nice slice of lemon pound cake to help put some weight on her. Then again, maybe her eyes were watering because she just finished throwing up all the food she ate. You never know these days. Women were doing whatever it took to get skinny.
The woman was dressed in a short black slip dress with a Chanel bag hanging from her shoulder. Her hair was jet black and bone straight sweeping her shoulders. I wanted to snatch her bag and tug on her hair to see if it was all hers because it looked too pretty to be real. Her nails were done. Diamonds dangled from her earlobes and despite her anorexic state, her skin was flawless. The only thing throwing me off was the fact she had kicked her shoes off in the nasty bathroom. Disgusting, I thought because I knew there were a lot of different germs eating away at the bottom of her feet, mainly urine and fecal matter.
“Are you here alone tonight?” I asked.
She didn't respond, walking to the sink, looking at the lights above the mirror.
“Do you want me to call a friend for you?”
She shook her head no.
“What about your man?”
She immediately made eye contact with me, and I wanted to run away. Her stare was so frigid I thought ice daggers were going to start shooting out of her eyes.
“Why do men cheat?” she asked with a slow, sorrowful voice. “Can you answer that question for me?”
Finally something,
I thought. “I don't know. It's in their nature,” I offered.
“I'm a good woman. Why does he not love me enough to be faithful to me? I'm really a good woman.”
“Honey, I don't know. All I can say is drop him and move to the next man.”
“I tried to leave him, but he begs me to come back to him and I ... and I ...,” she said with tears streaming down her cheeks again. Her quiet demeanor soon changed into uncontrollable crying. Through her weeping she continued to try to talk saying, “I believed him, and I know I'm grasping at straws, but the love I have for him makes me take him back. He professes his love to me all the time, and I ... I ...”
“Believe him,” I said completing what I think she was trying to say.
She nodded. “I can't take it anymore. I really can't. He's killing me, and he doesn't even know it.”
“Look, give me the number of a friend of yours and I'll call them to come pick you up. I think you really need someone right now,” I said trying to convince her.
“It doesn't matter because they can't save me now.”
“Save you?” I said looking at her with a questioning gaze.
She dropped her eyes to the floor and said, “Nobody can help me now.”
Homegirl reached in her purse and pulled out the biggest butcher knife I had ever seen. I maybe exaggerating, but it was gigantic. I thought she was reaching for some foundation or eyeliner to get her face spruced back up—but a knife! I thought she was going to come at me with it so I jumped back. My instincts were to run out of there, but I realized she was closer to the door and I was too damn far from it. I wanted to scream, but nothing came out. Only dry air entered as my mouth remained opened sucking in air at the sight of that butcher knife. I was coming close to hyperventilating. I wanted out of there, and I was on the other side of the restroom trying to make myself disappear into the painted brick walls. Didn't women have to pee anymore?
Usually this door was a revolving source of women's reactions to consuming way too many drinks or the need to freshen up their makeup. If I wanted to be in here by myself, the space would be full to capacity.
I tried to play it cool, like I wasn't afraid of her holding this weapon, but I didn't know if it came across that way since I could hear myself panting like I had run a marathon. That alone confirmed my panic state.
“It doesn't matter anymore,” she said twirling the blade, looking at it as the light hit it. Her mind had left the building, and I was looking for a window to push her out of.
“Just put the knife down. What is that weapon going to solve?”
“Peace. Revenge. Satisfaction,” she said with a voice so eerie I truly feared for my own safety. She seemed like the type that would take other people's lives before she took her own.
Dropping her purse to the floor she turned to look at me. Was she about to stab me with the knife? Fear had me glued in place, and all I could say was, “Just put the knife down. It's not worth it.”
“I'll teach him to cheat on me,” she said serenely. She began to raise the knife in the air. I wanted to scream, but still nothing would come past my lips. Was she coming closer to me or was it my imagination working overtime?
I managed to mumble the words, “Put the knife down,” hoping she would comply, but she just looked at me with that same blank stare she had when she walked out of the bathroom stall.
Closing her eyes, she lifted the knife above her head. I backed away some more until I was against the wall. She then placed her other hand on the handle and whispered, “Please forgive me for what I'm about to do,” and plunged the blade.

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