Decent. The most judgmental word in the dictionary was meaningless in a so-called free country. People condemning one another as if their opinions were gospel when in fact their opinions didn’t mean shit. Not to me anyway. Where in the hell were those dressed-in-all-white missionaries of the church when I was molested, then kicked out on the streets? Probably at Sunday morning service sitting a few pews ahead of another girl like me mumbling under their breath to one another about how indecent that little girl was.
I heard them shoo-shooing about me. “Uh-huh. I heard she fast. Doing all them nasty things with grown mens…Amen! Hallelujah! All right, Rev, tell the truth and shame the devil!…Sister, where was I? Oh yeah, she almost stole her mama’s husband. Somebody needs to tell her her kind ain’t welcome in the House of the Lord.”
What a difference a day makes? That one night sleeping on the porch and sitting in church changed my entire life. Weren’t those missionaries supposed to help save me? A tear fell onto my cheek.
B wiped it away, then affectionately said, “I’m sorry, baby. I need to be more understanding,” then gently placed his hands beside his hips. “Let me finish what I started.”
Benito’s eyes bypassed my navel as he stared up at me.
Did I just see B narrow his eyes before nestling his cheek into my pussy? Was that a look of disgust for me or the situation at hand? I made a mental note of that shit. I could look in a man’s eyes and simultaneously know his intentions and his deepest desires. B was pissed at me but couldn’t do shit to his satisfaction because he had no place to go.
A cutting of the eyes to the corners with a pensive frozen stare meant he was plotting his next move against me. Droopy eyes that softened indicated he needed my affection but didn’t want to ask. He expected me to read his mind. And in that moment if I showed him affection, instantly he became submissive. That was the time when I could ask for the world, and he’d give me all he had to offer.
That window of opportunity for women lasted a split second. If she blinked, she missed it. And the look B just gave me signaled inner hatred suppressed behind his thoughts of bashing my face in for crushing his manhood. Most men didn’t hide their anger. Too many women were busy trying to rescue abusive men. Oblivious of the warning signs, women blindly walked wide-eyed into danger.
There was so much I’d learned from observing a man’s body language, listening to his speech patterns, and reading between his words that I could teach a class on how to recognize an abusive man before he strikes from the inside out.
Benito leaned closer, holding me firm, then gentle as a lamb as if he were asking for forgiveness of his thoughts. As I stepped back, my foot slid against a familiar piece of plastic that I must’ve forgotten to remove from the throw after peeling away the price tag.
There was no time for an apology. The money-millionaires were in town tonight and they were dropping C-notes like confetti, so I couldn’t dare be late for work.
Glancing at the digital clock on the coffee table, I saw I had a good thirty minutes to spare. I moaned when Benito’s lips kissed my clit, trying not to let my personal issues cloud my true feelings. The more I came uncontrollably, the more I wanted to spend the rest of my life with this man. I was completely aware of my emotional attachment to Benito and his insatiable appetite for me.
Benito was different. I was his fan long before Valentino introduced us. Watching Benito on TV in his tight football uniform, connecting his precision bombs to his running backs and wide receivers, and seeing him sport his championship ring on television made me fantasize about him many nights while he didn’t know I existed.
B’s stats during his ten years in the league were 197 touchdowns passing, 36 rushing, 26,259 yards passing, 3,700 rushing. I knew how many first, second, third, and fourth downs he’d gotten. I could give a play-by-play recount better than any commentator of all Benito’s games. Now that he was mine, I wasn’t sure how long I could keep him, but I was positive I was not going to a therapist.
At the end of the day, after working long hours through the night, I was grateful to have someone waiting at home for me. Benito was my star. In many ways my savior. Before Benito, no man had ever consistently cared about me. They weren’t around long enough to. After our first month together I thought B would change. A year later, he still did all the things he’d done when we first met and more, including tolerate my relentless, selfish, won’t-admit-when-I’m-wrong attitude. B did simple things like massage my feet, suck my toes, and run my bathwater every time I arrived home from work at five, sometimes six in the morning.
At first I resisted dating Benito because while professionally playing football, he was one of Valentino’s top clients and I was the top-paid whore at Pussyland. The day Benito hung up his jersey, coincidentally I’d literally serviced my last john.
Valentino sat in my room at the Pussyland Ranch negotiating his fee like all the other tricks. Valentino was well known for stealing girls and hiring them to work for him. That evening we sat on my bed doing the usual back-and-forth.
“So, what would you like, handsome?” I’d asked him.
“What’s your specialty?” he asked, tugging the straps on my lace bustier.
“I can suck you real good, fuck you until your dick falls off—”
He interrupted me, “Or?” staring at my ass.
“Or what?” I questioned with a frown, ready to have the madam escort his arrogant ass out of my room before I fucked him unconscious. Valentino was so fine he made my pussy drip every time he licked his lips like that L.L. hadn’t-dropped-a-hit-in-a-minute Cool J, but who gave a fuck because he was still a sexy-as-hell rapper.
“You could let me fuck you in the ass.”
“Anal sex is against the rules and out of the question. You can get that from your girls.”
Pulling out a stack of hundreds, Valentino placed ten grand in my hands like it was my usual rate. He looked at me. I stared at him, then said, “Get the hell out,” throwing the money in his face.
“Straight? You serious?” he asked, drawing his eyebrows together, his forehead buckling.
Standing over him, I replied, “Dead serious. I’m not compromising my livelihood for you or anyone else.”
“Lace, I like your style. I guess it’s true what I’ve heard about your no-nonsense reputation. You’re exactly the type of madam I’m looking for.”
Tightening my lips to conceal my interest, I thought, Me? Madam? Opening the door, I demanded, “Get the fuck out and stop playing games.”
“Naw, straight. Come work for me and you’ll never have to fuck another john. Here’s my number. Keep the ten g’s as a welcome bonus. I want you to start tomorrow night. Nine sharp. Not nine-oh-one.” Tossing the money on my bed, Valentino walked out and I was right behind him.
“Lace, you ready for this dick? I have to get knee deep inside you, baby. My dick is so swollen he’s getting a migraine. Let Daddy hit his pussy from the back.”
“No way, not the back.”
Benito went buck wild, slapping my ass like he was starring in a rodeo. Lying on the faux fur, I spread my legs wide, then pulled Benito’s ass close to my pussy. Beads of sweat swished in his hairs slurping against my flesh. Benito wasn’t my most creative lover, but what I really liked was how our chemistry sizzled, making him by far my best man. I guess I should thank Valentino.
Once Valentino discovered I was a huge fan of Benito Bannister, he surprised me with a blind date. I didn’t know how to act! I mean, I’d never imagined sitting across the table from my brightest star let alone having him fall in love with me.
Benito’s ass relaxed as he slowly stroked himself.
Pulling