Secrets of a Kept Woman (Volume 1) Read online

  If she could read my body language, then she knew that the next time I saw her alone, I was going to administer a back hand pimp slap to her crooked jaw on general principal. On the real, she had some kind of nerve showing up here this morning.

  “Hey, sleepy head,” Shayla said, interrupting my thoughts. Wifey was perkier than ever, smiling as she spoke. She had a way of radiating a room. I wished that I could appreciate her positive disposition fully, but with that whore watching my every move, I was salty. “I thought you were going to sleep the day away, mister.”

  Greeting me properly, Shayla stood up from her chair, wrapped her arms tightly around my neck, and kissed me. As I hugged and kissed Shayla back, I looked over at Rhonda with fire in my eyes and wished her ass would POOF and be gone. When wifey broke contact, she had an unmistakable look of pride on her face. I knew that she was happy to show off our love in front of her friend. Little did she know, that two-bit bitch across the table was anything but her friend.

  “Guess what, baby?” she asked. “I made your favorite omelet this morning with bacon, ham and red peppers.” She walked over to the microwave and retrieved a saran-wrapped plate. She then walked back over to where I was standing and waved it in front of my nose. A carefully prepared meal consisting of my favorite omelet, a half a dozen fresh sliced strawberries, and grits was perfectly arranged on my plate.

  “I also made cinnamon waffles, but I was waiting for you to come down, so that I could make yours fresh for you.” Then, she whispered in my ear, “I planned to feed you breakfast in bed, but since Ronnie came over, we can just eat down here. She’s feeling down in the dumps, because some jerk she spent the night with last night attacked her.”

  I cringed and caught myself, hoping that Shayla wouldn’t take notice. I took the plate out of Shayla’s hand and said, “No need for you to make waffles now. I’ll just eat what you have here.” My eyes were glued on our intruding guest. It was funny how, which in just a matter of hours, Rhonda had now become an intruder where she used to be welcome.

  Snapping out of my trance, I told Shayla, “Well, you girls chit chat for a little bit. I’m going to take my food upstairs and watch some ESPN. I want you back in my bed ASAP woman.” I gave Shayla a forced smile and then turned my attention to Rhonda. “Rhonda, if you don’t mind, the wife and I want to get back to bed for a day in, so don’t keep her too long with your issues.” I said through clenched teeth, putting an emphasis on ‘issues’ to try and help her remember that her issues could get a whole hell of a lot worse.

  I kissed my unsuspecting wife with enough of that T-passion to leave her in a tailspin. I stood close enough to her so that she could feel my lower region’s reaction to the kiss, and said, “I need you to come up to bed very soon, feel me?”

  “Understood Mr. Wilson,” she smiled, twirling strands of hair around her finger. I was just about to head back up stairs when Shayla said, “You are so sinful, Titus Montre.”

  If only you knew the half, I thought. I shot Rhonda a look mixed with disgust and a silent threat to warn her to hold her peace. Either she would heed my warning, or she would feel the burn of my piece. Shayla followed behind me and out of the earshot of that skeezer and continued, speaking under her breath so as not to be heard, “Ronnie really has some major issues. Some grimy negro jumped on her last night. “

  Biting down hard on a piece of bacon, I simply said, “No shit?”

  “Yeah, so give me just a few minutes to talk to her, and I will happily oblige your every wanton need later, mister. You know I don’t have a problem with that. Funny thing is that she was just about to tell me who he was when you walked in. And If I can get her to tell me who this punk is I want you to sick your dogs on him pronto. Okay, babe?”

  What the fuck!? My wheels were turning. I’d be damned if I was leaving Shayla alone with that home wrecking wench now. I was glad that thinking quick on my feet came with the territory of running these streets. I shook my head and said, “No, baby girl. If you stay down here with Rhonda and her drama, you’ll be down here until night falls. I tell you what. You mosey them fine ass hips of yours on upstairs and get ready for a double dose of last night, and I’ll get the rest of the story, including the name of this nigga from Rhonda. I put my life on the fact that she won’t have to worry about that happening to her again! I got this.” I pleaded with the wife, because I had to take control of this situation and fast.

  Shayla stood there for a second or two looking unsure, which was par for the course when it came to difficult situations. Then, as always, I assisted her with her decision making.

  “I’m sure it’s nothing, anyway. We both know she’s a drama queen. Besides she don’t even look beat up. She just likes to cackle about nothing half the time, and you know that we need this time together. It’s been so long, baby. I don’t want to waste any time that I could be spending with my little Black Barbie doll. So, go on up to the bedroom, and get ready for Daddy. You know you want to.”

  After I laid it all out there, Shayla kissed me one last time and winked before finally submitting. “Okay, I’ll let you handle this, but make sure it gets handled, baby. I’m counting on you to be there for my sister, because no one has the right to treat her like that.”

  “Don’t you worry your pretty little head. I’ve got this,” were my final words before Shayla inched hesitantly up the stairway. Once she was at the top of the stairs and had closed the bedroom door behind her, I speed walked back into the kitchen. Sweat was beading on my forehead, and I wasn’t even the type of nigga to break a sweat, normally.

  Rhonda darkening my doorstep with this bullshit first thing in the morning, sitting on my damn furniture, dropping hints about telling Shayla what happened last night, made me madder than a motherfucking bulldog on some red meat. What kind of game was she trying to play with a nigga like T? Man, she was a glutton for punishment. Whatever it was game she was playing, she was about to get checkmated.

  Rhonda was sitting on a stool at the island when I walked back into the kitchen. Her eyes popped wide open with surprise when she saw me return instead of Shayla. Then, she smiled a devilish grin when I got directly in front of her face and spit nothing but pure venom at her. “Get yo’ motherfucking ass the hell out of my house, woman! You know good and well I’m not about to stand by idly while you drop hints about spilling your guts to my wife about us. You’ve been warned once, and now you’re testing me for the second time in twenty-four hours? What, you didn’t get it good enough last night, you dense ass broad?”

  “Now, wait a minute. Hold on there now, big boy. I didn’t mention your name, but I knew coming here under the circumstances would get your attention. I just wanted you to know that I’m still here and not going anywhere. All I want is your attention.” Her cocky ass got up from her seat, walked over, and stood directly in front of me. She moved in close and puckered her lips for a kiss.

  I shoved her violently back three feet from me and asked, “What the fuck is your problem? Are you fuckin’ crazy, Rhonda?”

  She was still drinking that Kool-Aid, because she answered, “Only about you.”

  “Look, you crazy bitch… I told you this ‘me and you’ thing is a figment of your imagination. The only couple up in here is me and my better half that just walked up those steps.” I brought my forceful voice down a notch, and through tightly pursed lips said, “Now get out of my house!” I grabbed her arm firmly, walked her toward the front door, and opened it.

  Rhonda refused to walk through the door, pushing it closed, purring, “Titus… T… I really think you need to think about this, baby. You don’t want me to really start singing like a canary, do you? If you keep treating me like some piece of shit on the bottom of your shoes, you will feel my wrath. And T? Trust me; I don’t even know how far I will go to lash back. You don’t want it to go there, Titus. You wanted to try me out, and now you’ve got me… until the death!”

  As she spoke, she maintained an insane grin. Her hand gently inched down
until it reached and stroked my manhood. “Go’n with that bull, Rhonda.” I shifted my weight onto my right foot awkwardly.

  Her touch was like water, dousing the flame of my anger. What was it about her hands that were so soothing to a nigga? I guess that was part of the magic that she possessed, and she sure as hell was sprinkling that magic over me now. With my precious wifey right upstairs, I allowed Ronnie to stroke me for a few seconds too long because before I knew anything she had stroked me straight into stupid.

  We’d fought before. I thought, Maybe this last fight was just another one of those moments that people have when they catch feelings for each other. I didn’t know exactly what was going on, but all I knew was that she was doing that thing that only she knew how to do. She was calming down a nigga like T, and I was letting her.

  It was then that I knew I had to have some real feelings for her. Otherwise, I would have been able to physically throw her out of my house without responding to her touch at all. This woman had some strange hoodoo over me, or something. I had killed men for less than what she had done already, let alone what she was threatening to do. I let out several deep breaths and licked my lips as she slid her palm up and down my shaft like a pro, waving her thumb over the head each time she got to the end of it. Suddenly, she stopped long stroking me and concentrated her movements right at the tip, squeezing and releasing until I thought I would explode. Then, I did. I wasn’t normally a man to bust a nut so quickly, but the adrenaline and testosterone she had pumping through my veins betrayed me.

  “I’m not going anywhere. Neither do you want me to,” Ronnie chuckled softly, bringing a hand covered in my seed up to her lips. She slowly licked her fingers dry while I stared at her, bracing myself against the wall by the door. My knees had grown weak, and apparently, so had my mind. She placed her free hand on my chest, rubbing my pecs. After my unexpected climax, every inch of my body was sensitive, and she had my nipples hard as rocks.

  This girl was ruthless in her pursuit, which was what made her so damn sexy to me in the first place. My willpower was shot to hell, but I was still a man about mine. She had to get the hell out from up in here with that shit before Shayla came downstairs to find me in an embarrassing position. If she came down right now, there was no way I’d be able to deny what has just happened. My wife knew what I looked like after I’d busted a good nut, that’s for sure. It was obvious that my body and my sexual nature wouldn’t let me deny that I did want my wife – and Ronnie, too. Since I’d let her have the upper hand (literally) for now, I tried again and asked her to leave nicely.

  “Just leave, baby, and we’ll hook up later tonight. I need some more of that…” I promised her some time as I pushed her away from me and opened the door again. I could hear the bedroom shower running and Shayla singing to her own beat, unaware that treachery in its highest form was taking place right here in her living room.

  Instead of honoring my request, Rhonda pushed the door closed again, took me by the hand, and led me into the den. I was too spent to protest. My mind was screaming at me to man up, pick her up by her throat, and throw her out of the house like an old piece of furniture, but my body was telling me something more sinister and selfish. “Ronnie, you need to go ahead and leave. Please, girl. It’s bad enough you done made me skeet all over my damn draws. I’m not doin’ nothin’ else with you in my house.” I was desperate to get her to leave without making a scene. How had I lost control?

  I know I sounded like a punk begging her to leave my house before I fucked the dog shit out of her with my wife upstairs. Knowing my words didn’t match my actions, she ignored my weak ass protest. Hell, I would have ignored that request too. After all, I did follow her into the den like a blind sheep, and Big T had made a speedy recovery, too. He was standing up straight against my belly like a baseball bat.

  “You called me Ronnie, which means you’re weak for me, Titus. I know you all too well,” She purred, as she closed the den door and locked it.

  She did know me too well. When a woman knows your weaknesses, watch out – it’s a good possibility the game is over. She also knew the den had a lock on the door and a side exit door, so she could leave once her devilish scheme was complete. Behind the den’s locked door, she pushed me up against the wall and released my now throbbing manhood from my boxers. She dropped to her knees shamelessly and began sucking me so good that I was powerless to put up much of a fight.

  “This is fucked up,” was the only comment I could weakly get out as I grabbed the back of her head and pushed my dick further down her throat. What we were doing was wrong, but it was also the type of cheap thrill and adventurous streak that most men would give their left arm for.

  Removing my dick from her dripping mouth, she said, “No, what’s fucked up is that you choose Shayla over me when you know she can’t be the woman that you need.” Her hand tightened around my shaft as her lips, tongue, and throat continued the job of pleasuring me once again.

  “Oh, Ronnie… shit! You know I got you, girl. Just make Big T cum for me. That’s right, do what you have to do to get back in good with Daddy.” This had to have gone on for at least a full five minutes, and once I had tested her gag reflex and came all down her throat, Rhonda was completely satisfied. She picked up her purse off the floor and disappeared out the den’s exit without speaking another word.

  I leaned against the door for a few seconds before quickly collecting my thoughts. Shaking my head at the drama I had gotten myself tangled up in, I went into the kitchen, picked up the plate that I’d placed on the table, and warmed up the breakfast food.

  “What’s taking you so long, baby?” Shayla yelled, standing at the top of the stairs in her pink negligee.

  “Uh… Just getting us some wine for you, Shay. I’ll be there in a minute.” I took a deep breath. Was I really ready for Round Three? I guessed I had to be. I took a paper towel from the holder, wiped the sweat from my forehead, retrieved two wine glasses from the cellar, and trotted toward the steps. I might be a dog, but I love my wife. This shit Ronnie is pulling is too close for comfort. Too close. I can’t call it, but whatever kind of trip I’m on letting her jack me off and suck my dick in the house is dangerous, I thought. I had to get this situation under control… and soon.

  Chapter 11

  Gladys

  Eventually, but not nearly soon enough for me, I arrived in Fontainebleau’s lobby area. Unlike the tense drive over, I felt free like a runaway slave – no more master. I was stress free, work free, husband free, child free. Just simply free to be me. Even the fresh air that filled my lungs seemed to move in and out more freely.

  “Ah, I really needed this getaway,” I said to no one in particular. Internally, I encouraged myself not to feel guilty about the stolen free ‘me time.’ “It’s not like you do things for yourself all of the time, Gladys.”

  After about thirty minutes of waiting in the long line in the reception area, I was all checked into my hotel room and heading to my suite to get changed. I tipped the bellhop who so graciously brought my belongings up to my room and provided me with some great site seeing locations. I then began unpacking my bags, placing each outfit on a hanger and my underclothes inside of the dressers. My plan was to get down to the bar area to see if I’d run into any of my old classmates before the ball tomorrow night.

  Unfortunately, when I moved to Valley, Alabama I’d lost contact with just about everyone from college, and I was anxious to see my old friends. I quickly showered using my favorite White Diamonds body wash. After I dried off, I applied a generous amount of the matching lotion to my skin. I chose a form-fitting black shirt and black tights with an oversized black belt. My stiletto heels added a nice touch to my outfit, and when I released my shoulder length blond-streaked hair from the bow I was wearing it hung beautifully in an array of fluffy curls around my neck. With pure confidence, I sashayed downstairs to the bar and grille looking and feeling like a million bucks.

  That feeling was short lived when a famili
ar face caught my eye.

  “Say it ain’t so,” I said aloud, knowing that the person I spotted could not be the real man in the flesh. As soon as I stepped into the bar, the first person I saw sitting at a corner table was Maverick Douglas. When I was a student at Albany State in Georgia, I was madly in love with Maverick.

  Maverick was the kind of man every coed dreamt of finding while away at college. He was gorgeous – very easy on the eyes. His smile would melt an ice sculpture. If he gazed at you, you could feel him disseminating your soul as each second on the clock ticked by. I thanked God for every moment that I was able to spend with him, memorizing the smooth terrain of his body and staring into those amazing eyes. I remembered his coarse goatee, and how it would tickle my stomach as he kissed my belly button just before we made love. His chestnut brown skin that covered his tall and slender frame would simply meld into my flesh whenever we became one.

  But our relationship was far more than the romance. His intelligence was just as intriguing. Never before had I been able to feel so free to be myself and truly let go with another person of the opposite sex before. He erased all of my shyness, and in his arms there was a comfort and security that could not be matched anywhere else. I rested in him. Does that make sense? I just rested in him. We talked for hours in the quad, underneath the shade of the trees, about current events and our studies. We discussed our families, our opinions about major political issues, anything and everything.

  I knew that Maverick loved me. More than that, he respected me on all levels. No one else before him had ever shown me that type of pure unadulterated love before, except my family, of course. That’s just it. He had always felt like family to me. It’s hard to explain, but it’s easy to recognize when you feel it. Maverick felt like home.

  I just knew that once we each got our degrees, we would get married and do the happily ever after thing – buy the perfect home, get the perfect dog, and have a house full of children. That was the game plan, until I began to feel as though he was slowly losing interest in me.