Authors: Mary B. Morrison
A
black stretch Lincoln Navigator with room to comfortably accommodate twelve people parked in front of my office building. Mesmerized, I stood at the window, peeping out from the second floor, as the tall, chocolate, bald-headed driver, with tinted sunglasses darker than the car windows, approached the glass door marked The Zena Belvedere Agency. As I released the fold in the mini-blinds, my heart throbbed; my breath quickened. I stepped back, smoothing out my A-line skirt.
“Ms. Belvedere,” my receptionist announced, “your driver is here.”
Pressing the intercom button, I replied, “Thanks, Donna. Don't forget to lock up before you leave.”
Nervously, I glided downstairs.
He's the limo driver, Zena,
I told myself. Yeah, but he was awakening things inside of me that no man had since Deuce. I shivered, hoping he hadn't noticed.
Donna stared at the driver, who was holding open the office door. “Have a good time, Ms. Belvedere.”
There was no way I couldn't have a good time tonight.
“My name is Danté,” he said, opening the back door of the limo.
Wish he'd open my front and back doors,
I thought, sinking into the smooth leather seat. “Thanks,” I said. Was I grinning at this tall purple-blackalicious man with glistening white teeth? Or at the view of his dick imprint, which was at eye level, until he closed my door?
My gaze stalked Danté until he settled into the driver's seat. All I saw after he drove off were buildings, people walking down the street, and trees. The black suede divider shielded my view of Mr. Fine Ass Danté.
What would Seven do? I texted her, Girl, this man is so fine.
No reply.
I texted her again.
U forgot your laptop at my house. Want me 2 send it 2 U?
I prayed she'd tell me where she was. I wasn't comfortable not knowing where my best friend was. Was she safe? The picture she'd texted me was beautiful. Although she should, Seven would never cheat on Maverick. He'd changed her like no other man we'd talked about. Wished I had a man that attentive who didn't want kids.
Was this how Seven lived? I had no idea. She drove herself everywhere. She never told me, but I couldn't imagine a limo picking me up for dinner with Maverick and not doing the same for her. My girl could've set me up with Danté. She probably figured I wouldn't go out with the limo driver. The one time Seven had invited me to a game, Maverick had emphatically told her, “No.”
Danté cruised along the lake, parking at the docks. When he opened the door, it was like a scene straight out of
Coming to America
. Rose petals had been strewn along a rich ruby red plush carpet leading to a huge white yacht. Holding my hand, a guy dressed in a tuxedo escorted me aboard.
I didn't get another glimpse of Danté as he drove away. I wanted to see him again. Go out with him. Get to know his story. Fuck him once a week or at least once.
My jaw fell when I saw Maverick dressed in an off-white blazer and slacks, a blue and red silk scarf neatly tucked at his neck, an off-white fedora tilted on his head. The only item missing was a cigar. His smile was warm and inviting.
“You look absolutely beautiful, Zena. But I want you to look stunningly gorgeous,” he said. “Leslie will help you prepare to my liking.”
Prepare to his liking? Is this how he'd captured Seven?
Following this strange woman, Leslie, I understood how my girl had fallen in love with Maverick and why she wanted to drop the twenty-five pounds to please him. Would Seven lie to me about possibly being pregnant?
Leslie interrupted my thoughts. “Once you finish showering, your attire will be over here. When you're properly prepared, Mr. Maxamillion will join you on the top deck.”
I showered and lotioned my body with Ecstasy Shea Soufflé. Prada perfume rested on the vanity. Dare I spray on Seven's favorite cologne? Obviously, he wanted me to, otherwise there would've been more options, unless this was her private room. Exiting the bathroom, I took a deep breath when I saw, suspended from a hanger, the white dress Seven had bought for her wedding reception. We'd picked out that dress a year ago, together. I stood still, closed my eyes, then sighed heavily. Seven looked absolutely gorgeous in that dress from Bloomingdale's.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, I retrieved my PDA. No text messages from Seven. This was her second day away. Maybe she was busy working out. Perhaps her phone had died. It wasn't like her not to text me back. I texted her, U okay, girl? then sat my phone on the bed.
My fingers danced along the pearled and sequined knee-length halter dress, which fit me perfectly. “Wow. I had no idea Seven's life was so elaborate. She was so modest. Humble,” I said aloud.
Glancing at my phone, I saw there was no response from Seven. “Oh, well,” I exhaled. “I can't keep my new client waiting. Besides, Seven can't fit in this dress, anyway. Maybe Maverick didn't want to waste his money.”
Zipping up the dress on the side, I stepped into Seven's slip-on diamond stilettos. This was probably the only day of my life I'd be a true princess. I was sure my best friend wouldn't mind letting me step into her world for one night only.
Tap. Tap.
“Are you ready?” Leslie asked, peeping inside the room.
“Lord, forgive me.” I inhaled deeply, then quietly exhaled. “Yes, I'm ready.”
For what?
I had no idea.
Maverick's wide smile indicated his approval. “Come. I want you to watch the sunset with me. You work so hard. I bet you don't take time to enjoy the view. And for me, you will spend lots more time working, so let's maximize this moment,” he said, not waiting for a reply.
“Maximize? Huh, I like that. Maximize your money with Maxamillion,” I said.
He smiled, nodded, then replied, “I like that, too.”
Joining the captain at the helm, Maverick took control of the wheel. Coaxing me in front of him, he placed my hands on the wheel, wrapped his hands around mine, then pressed his pelvis into my ass. The yacht swayed with our departure. I felt his erection nudging the crevice of my ass, his nose nestling in my hair.
Lord Jesus, this is so wrong, but it feels so right,
I thought as my ass involuntarily jerked into his dick. “I'mâ¦I'm so sorry,” I said. Embarrassed, I stepped aside.
“Don't be. We're going to have to spend lots more time together over the next few weeks, until our business plan and contract are solidified. You have to get to know me in order to represent me, respect me.”
I wanted to say, “But what about Seven? Your fiancée? Remember her?” Maybe I was the foolish one. I'd witnessed business tycoons with huge egos bartering contracts with sexual favors. There was no way I could fuck my best friend's fiancé. I'd die first.
Maverick motioned for me. “Come closer. Stand behind me. Grip my hands,” he said, snuggling my arms at his waist. “Hold me like your life depends on it,” he said seductively.
My life?
Was he insane? I was too far out on the lake not to take him seriously. What if this was some sort of test to see if I was loyal to Seven? What if I'd failed already?
“I'm a bit hungry,” I lied. “Haven't eaten all day, and the motion is making me queasy.”
Of your madness, not the boat
.
“Let's eat then.” Maverick snapped his fingers. The captain reappeared, taking control of the wheel.
Did Maverick act this way all the time? As though everyone was beneath him. His authoritative undertone ignited a chilling bite that could leave one frostbitten on Chicago's hottest day. Faking a smile, I followed Maverick below deck to the dining area, wondering if Seven had texted me back. Maverick pulled out my chair, then softly kissed my neck before sitting across from me.
Chills penetrated my body. I had to say something. “Maverick, I'm not sure what I'm bargaining for here, but honestly, it doesn't feel right. Aren't you concerned about where Seven is?”
“Honestly, no. Are you?” he asked, gulping his Scotch.
“Seven leaves with no clothes. She leaves her laptop at my house, and you don't care?” I asked him.
“You're ruining my appetite with all this talk about Seven,” he said.
That's it. I'm done with this creep. I pray Seven doesn't marry him.
“You can return Seven's laptop to me. I'll have Danté pick it up tomorrow,” he said.
Infuriated, I said, “What? Did she ask you to ask me for her laptop? Do you know where Seven is?”
He sat there, staring through me.
“Answer me,” I insisted.
Maverick's lips curved into a captivating smile that slowly sucked me in. Exposing his incredibly white teeth, he scratched his head, then casually said, “Since
it
doesn't feel right,
then
you're not the right one to represent me. After dinner I'll have my driver take you home. Our business here is done.”
Wrong questions. Wrong answer. Wrong every damn thing. I didn't want to seem desperate, but this was a prime opportunity to elevate my business, my social status. To be able to say, “I represent Maverick Maxamillion Incorporated,” would triple my clientele. If I did an excellent job for Maverick, he'd give me great referrals. I could stop relying on Deuce to pay my mortgage every month. While I tried to figure out a way to get back into Maverick's good graces, I sat quietly eating my salad.
The entrées came, then dessert, then the driver, without further conversation between us. I'd messed up big-time this time.
“It was nice seeing you, Zena. I'll have my personal assistant drop by and pick up the dress and shoes tomorrow, and don't forget the laptop,” Maverick said, excusing himself from the table.
Leslie approached me, placed her hand on the back of my chair, then politely said, “I'll escort you back to the car, Ms. Belvedere.”
There was no red carpet, no roses, no limo, no sexy-ass Danté. A wooden deck, a town car, a mediocre-looking driver, and me all dressed up headed home, with no contract. Who knew what Maverick had planned for me tonight? Obviously, I'd messed that up. I sat in silence, pissed with the way my evening had ended.
Parked in front of my home, holding open the car door, staring down at me, the driver said, “Ms. Belvedere?”
“Yes?” I exhaled, terribly disgusted with myself.
“Mr. Maxamillion said that if you'd like to reconsider his offer, let him know, and Danté will pick you up to join Mr. Maxamillion in his owner's suite at the football game tomorrow night,” the driver said, reaching for my hand.
Of course, I wanted a second chanceâ¦to meet Danté and to work for Maverick, but I refused to betray Seven. I sat there, speechless. I was no fool. If I accepted Maverick's offer, I'd have to fuck him or cross him at some point. I'd be risking my loyalty to Seven.
To say yes might cost me my best friend.
To say no might prove to be the worst business decision of my life.
R
estless in Punany Paradise. I hadn't slept well last night.
The two escorts had offered to massage me at the same time. They'd said the traditional welcome relaxation treatment would set the tone for my stay. I was probably the only woman who'd refused. Too much on my mind. Not ready for another man's touch pleasuring my body. Slightly self-conscious, remembering Maverick's insult, “You might as well be on the field, helping out.” Undeniably, my feelings of inferiority complicated things, making me feel unworthy.
Mama used to say, “Seven, always love yourself first.
First
.”
I know. I know that, Ma,
I thought, lying in bed, with my eyes closed. In time I'd get back to loving me first.
Wasn't like I loved Maverick more. I simply hadn't felt good about myself, about us, since our last conversation. Before turning off the lights, easing into bed last night, I'd turned on my phone, lowered the volume, then placed it on the charger, not wanting to miss a call or text from Maverick or Zena. No intention to respond, just wanted to know if either of them was thinkingâ¦about me.
“Let it go, Seven. Let it go,” I'd cried, scrambling my legs in the sheets. Hadn't slept alone this much in two years. No one to hold me. Brush against. Wake up to. Even if what Maverick and I had wasn't perfect the last few days, he was home with me every night.
Inside my quiet beachfront suite, a king-size bed centered on a two-step, two-foot platform faced white wall-to-wall curtains. Turning onto my side, I sat up, placing my feet on the floor. Somberly, I sloped to the window, gripped the long clear handles, and slid the curtains apart.
The Atlantic Ocean spanned endless miles, sweeping in every direction. Opening the sliding-glass door, I stepped out onto my private patio. The sound of waves crashing against the shore curved my lips upward a bit, with peace and joy struggling to break through. If I allowed, Mother Nature was there to nurture me in a way that my man couldn't, wouldn't.
Going back inside, I browsed the bookshelves adjacent to the computer. Dammit. I wished I'd brought my computer. Couldn't ask Zena to send it to me; then she'd know where I was. I had documents and files in my laptop that were private. Pictures of me that I wasn't proud of, that were taken of me in college. One too many drinks had landed me in a few very compromising positions, naked. Some with multiple guys. Others having sex with women. Then there were my financial statements and wedding plans, stored away in marked folders.
Zena knew my code. I'd given it to her once to check the follow-up date for the caterer while I was in the kitchen, cooking dinner for Maverick. Right now I didn't trust Zena or Maverick. Both would judge me harshly if they knew the type of party girl I used to be.
I refocused on the books in front of me:
Up to No Good
by Carl Weber,
Dying for Revenge
by Eric Jerome Dickey,
Erotic City
by Pynk,
Single Husbands
by HoneyB,
She Comes First: The Thinking Man's Guide to Pleasuring a Woman
by Ian Kerner, and
Opening to Love 365 Days a Year
by Judith Sherven and James Sniechowski.
Ordinarily, I'd choose an African Americanâauthored novel, except I'd read all my favorites, and now I wondered when Zane was coming out with her next outlandish novel. Hoping I'd learn something new about love, I selected James and Judith's book to see if they'd prove me wrong, then went to the kitchen. To my surprise, there were three carafes on ice. I read their labels: raspberry juice, mango-ginger juice, and papaya juice.
I poured a glass of raspberry juice, headed outdoors, and reclined in the hammock. Swaying slowly, ankles crossed, sunglasses blocking the rays, I delved in. The book started as I'd suspected, telling me the other person wasn't me and that I should remember that my partner's feelings, beliefs, and behavior were just as valid as mine.
“Yeah, right. Says who? I don't need a book to tell me that no one is perfect,” I mumbled at the pages, reading on. By the end of the book, the sun was fading, and my heart was softening. Maybe I didn't know Maverick as well as I'd thought. He certainly didn't know me. But how much was too much to tell your mate, and how little was not enough?
Closing the book after speed-reading to the end of the last chapter, I decided one day I'd write my life story. Not for the world. For me. For the baby that might be inside of me today or in the future. Why wait? Tomorrow wasn't promised. I decided I'd e-mail my life story to Maverick, asking him to do the same.
One day, not today. Maybe before I left Punany Paradise.
I could stay here forever and ever, appreciating that no one at the resort bothered me. But I wasn't here for isolation, I reminded myself. I was on holiday.
“Let me see what's in that database of Serenity's.” Rolling out of the hammock, I went inside.
Checking in with Serenity via instant messaging morning, noon, and night was the only requirement for guests choosing to stay in their suite. I e-mailed Serenity. Oops, I just read this. I'm good. Why hadn't anyone checked on me? Maybe they'd seen me outside reading. How could they? Maybe whoever had delivered my juice had sent her a note.
Heading to the bathroomâwhich was more like a personal in-room spa, with steam and dry saunas, a six-person Jacuzzi, a sunken tub filled with mineral water, a separate shower, and a private room for the toilet and bidetâI noticed the flashing light on my PDA, indicating I had a message.
Backing up to the computer desk, I read, Girl, this man is so fine. In separate messages, Zena had texted, U forgot your laptop in my car. Want me 2 send it 2 U? then U okay, girl?
“Nah, nah. You bold enough to say my man is so fine, and you want to know if I'm okay?” I said, placing my PDA back on the computer desk.
More concerned with why Maverick hadn't contacted me at all, I sat in the chair and browsed the last profile in the group of men.
I clicked on Jagger: Twenty-two years young, native of St. John; six feet five; 205 pounds; loves sailing, music, dancing, surfing, snorkeling; the best in cunnilingus delight. That man intrigued me once more. My pussy had the hots for this Jaggerman.
Why not do him?
I thought. Oral sex wasn't cheating. Jagger might give me the sultry, bubbling personality I'd had before meeting Maverick, helping me to forget about what Zena was doing with my fiancé.
I typed in my request to Jagger. Can you meet me in the community area in two hours? Figuring I'd have to wait a few days to get on his calendar, I browsed the next profile at the bottom of the list.
Jagger's instant message popped up. Certainly. What took you so long to ask? I've been waiting to taste you, and I'll come ready. Your pleasure is my only wish.
I said, “Damn.” Fletcher was caramel suckalicious. The imprint of his snake slithering down his muscular thigh, threatening to poke that plump, juicy head of his out of his chocolate boxers, lit up my pussy and my eyes.
I instant messaged Jagger. Looking forward to you. Then I sent Fletcher an instant message. Can you bathe me tomorrow at midnight?
Fletcher's message came back. I can do whatever you'd like me to do, Seven. Can't wait.
My pussy was on high beam! I was beginning to like this place. I walked over to my closet. Inside it, there were at least fifty colorful sarong, with the tags on but no price. When they said, “All-inclusive,” that was what they meant. I gathered the tags were just to let me know the items were new. A rack of one-piece swimsuits and bikinis stretched wall to wall. Beach sandals lined the shelves above. Slip-on stilettos in my size were in a row below the evening dresses. Why so many clothes for a nude resort? Probably because no one had worn them.
Selecting a simple red sarong, I opened the dresser drawer filled with vibrant panties in lace, Lycra, and satin. “I won't be needing any of these,” I said, deciding at the moment to let my pussy be liberated.
I showered, poured myself a chilled glass of mango-ginger juice from the carafe, then added a shot of rum to relax. The tip of my big toe eased into the Jacuzzi, leading the way for my naked body. “Ah,” I exhaled. Being alone suddenly felt heavenly.
Resting my head on the inflated pillow, I closed my eyes, opened my legs, and let the jet shoot up from the bottom of the Jacuzzi cleanse my pussy and pleasure me with multiple orgasms while I sipped my drink. Drinking with my eyes closed, I could smell the mango and ginger, taste and feel the flavors trickling down my throat. Bubbles blasting behind me massaged my back.
Setting my glass aside, I whispered, “I could stay here forever.”
Shriveled fingertips wiped away the sweat from my forehead. If I paced myself, I could experience all twenty-six guys by the end of my stay. Only this experience would be better than when I was in college.
The plush white towel, almost longer than my body, absorbed the excess water from my body. Carol's Daughter body products lined the vanity. I layered my skin with Sweet Honey Dipâ¦Chocolate Brown Sugah Body Butter and the Ecstasy Shea Soufflé, tied my red sarong under my arms and around my breasts, and let it flow over my hips, snuggling up to my ass.
Finishing my drink, I reached for an unopened bottle of 16.9 ounces of water, then drank the entire contents. That should do until we returned from the community area where I was headed for an evening of pleasure.
Seven, keep an open mind. Enjoy yourself. Be happy or you'll have to leave,
I thought right before Jagger greeted me with a warm smile, which sent a tingling sensation throughout my body.
“Hello there, beautiful. How are you?” he asked, opening his arms, waiting for me to accept his hug.
I did.
He held me firmly. His strong hands embraced my shoulders.
I took a deep breath, then exhaled. When was the last time Maverick had held me with such conviction, such patience? Momentarily, I wished Jagger were Maverick, praying Maverick wasn't holding Zena in his arms.
“Wow, you're really tense,” Jagger said. “Let me relax you.”
Looking around, I asked, “Where?”
“Wherever you'd like. The entire island is yours to enjoy.”
“Let's walk for a while,” I suggested, trying to relax on my own.
I'd met lots of men in Mississippi. Most of them conservative, up-tight, minimalist, and happy with barely getting by as long as they could pay the bills and have a little money left over to drink. My mother had insisted I explore men outside of Webster County, cities outside of Mississippi, countries outside of America. My mother had encouraged me to relocate to Chicago for undergrad school, then advised me to move someplace other than Chicago for grad school. Then she left me before I got my college degree. Daddy must've needed Mama more than me; he left shortly afterward, leaving me to walk across the stage with Zena.
“You're so beautiful. Want to talk about what bothers you?” Jagger asked, holding my hand as we strolled along the beach.
I exhaled. “There are so many things right with my life, I hate to complain about what's wrong.”
“Seven, it's only complaining if you don't either do something about it or let it go. I had it hard in St. John. Lots of tourists coming from all over the world. Men and women wanting me to service them like I was a piece of meat, a sex machine.”
Suddenly I felt guilty.
Jagger continued. “Not appreciating me for me. Not knowing or caring to know my last name, how I grew up, or if I cared about them,” he said. “I like this place because the women who come here, they're genuine, you know. No more explaining to men that I'm not bisexual. I've never had sex with a man. These women here are like you, Seven. They care about living a better life, and they're doing something about it. Whatever that is for them, you know. I get to help them do that. In return, they actually care about me and the other guys here. Many of them write us. Some come back just to visit us. I like that. I hope you come back to visit me.”
Just to visit? Yeah right.
For a moment, I felt selfish. I hadn't asked anything about Jagger. But I'd only been with him for a few minutes. And he wanted me to come back and visit him?
“Well, I'm here for six weeks,” I said. “I have a question.”
“Anything for you, Seven. I'm not just saying that. I mean that,” he said.
“Have any of the women at Punany Paradise fallen in love with you?”
Smiling, he answered, “Not really.”
“What kind of answer is that? What do you mean, not really?”
“It's not me they fall in love with. They fall in love with themselves, not only because of what I do, but because of what all the men here doâ¦We adore each and every woman. We respect you. We treat you like the queens you are.”
“Is that because we get what we pay for?” I asked.
He nodded. “True. And because you are beautiful inside and out. I tell you, every woman that comes here loses at least ten pounds if she stays for just one week.”
My lips tightened.
Impossible.
How could that be? “Now you're straight lying.”
Frantically, he shook his head. “No, seriously.”
“How?” I asked.
“You arrived two days ago, right?”
“And?”
“And when was the last time you thought about food? I mean a full-course meal, like breakfast, lunch, or dinner,” Jagger asked, kissing the back of my hand.
Silence consumed my thoughts. Not once had I thought about food in that way. I had reflected on my life a lot, had spent way too much time imagining what my fiancé was doing with my best friend, had read a book, had talked to my mom's spirit, and had slept.
“You see, Seven. When our worries turn into happiness, when we are happy like the Creator intended, food sustains and vitalizes us. Food does not consume or console us. Punany Paradise is about connecting with the chi energy in your womb that feeds your soul. Your creative energy. Chi drives your passion. I guarantee you, by the time you leave here in six weeks, you will be a sizzling size six.”