Beverly was five feet eight. Her short brown hair was neatly tapered to accentuate her beautiful, big brown eyes. The mesmerizing curves of her hips matched those of her lips each time she smiled, which was often. She held a broker’s license but didn’t like sales or managing people. Beverly was dependable and flexible. She’d visit a few properties when I needed her to. But generally, I had other employees handle on-site management.
“Certainly, Mr. Hill, and good morning to you. You have—”
Walking away from her not-so-bright smile, I said, “I know. Another message from Ms. Honey Thomas. Trash it.”
If my wanting to be with Honey was worrying my parents, I had to do the right thing. Why did this woman repeatedly call me at home, at work, and on my cell, then text me in between? Didn’t she get it? She was a murderer, and I was done with her, and thankfully, I’d found out the truth before making the same mistake I’d made with Valerie by giving my heart to a black woman who didn’t know how to care for me.
Clicking on her computer, Beverly dragged a file to her trash can, smiled, then said, “She hasn’t called you today.”
Oh, she must be still sleeping, I thought, feeling embarrassed.
“What I was getting ready to say was you have a visitor, who invited himself into your office.”
“What! She showed up instead! She had the audacity to show her face without my—”
Holding her open palm toward me, Beverly slowly said, “Hold up. Calm down. No, Mr. Hill. I said, ‘Himself.’ Actually, it’s a man, and he refused to give me his name.”
Frowning, I felt like a fool this time. I wasn’t listening well, and I was hurt that Honey hadn’t called or texted since the day before yesterday. Maybe she had sensed I’d let Velvet fuck me. Had she found another man to replace me? Or was it like my dad said? Would she call in a week or a month? I wanted her to call this morning, like she’d done almost every day for the past eighteen days.
“Is it one of my evicted tenants? Did you call the police?”
“I wasn’t sure what to do. He wasn’t unruly. He just invited himself into your office.”
Banging my fist on her desk, I yelled, “What! You should never allow anyone to invite themselves into my office! Ever! You got that!”
Beverly’s eyes widened. “Mr. Hill, I apologize. I’m sorry. You want me to call the police?”
“Yes,” I said, slowly approaching my office. People who had nothing to lose sure as hell didn’t mind taking other people down with them. What was Honey’s fucking problem? Fuck her! She was probably laid up with some other man.
Peeping through the crack in my door, I saw it was trifling-ass Benito. “Beverly, never mind,” I yelled over my shoulder. “I can handle him.”
“Who is he?” she asked.
“My brother.”
“I didn’t know you had a brother,” Beverly replied and waited for a response, which I refused to give.
But I did give her what she deserved. “Beverly, I apologize. I over-reacted.”
She smiled. “It’s okay, Mr. Hill. I know you’re under a lot of pressure with the merger. It won’t happen again. I’m getting a lock put on your door today.”
Standing in my doorway, I watched Benito browse the hundreds of architectural design, real estate, and law books on my wall-to-wall customized shelves. I slammed the door. His ass didn’t flinch. He nodded as he looked over the encased model of my newest 411-unit hotel and condominium building, which was under construction across the street from Trevor Williams’s hotel and condos in Atlanta. I glanced around to see if any lightweight items were missing, like my Mont-blanc pens or my platinum golf balls. Nope. They were there.
“Hey, bro. I apologize for imposing on you like this, but we need to talk about Lace,” said Benito. “You should thank me for saving you. She was getting ready to fuck you blind.”
First my dad and now this asshole wanted to tell me how to live my life. Lace, Honey, whatever her real name was, I wanted no parts of that pathological prevaricator.
Oh my God. Looking at her picture on my credenza, I’d been sure that woman was amazingly beautiful both inside and out. Her silky skin, juicy lips, perfect figure, sculpted legs and thighs, and those incredible crystal green eyes had commanded my attention the second she sat next to me on the plane, in first class.
I’d pretended I wasn’t impressed with her when we first met, but I couldn’t lie: she’d had my undivided attention the instance our eyes met. I smiled on the inside, remembering how she’d made me laugh off and on the entire trip. Honey was easy to talk to. I’d felt like we were two old friends getting reacquainted after a long period without contact.
On our first date, she’d looked and felt ravishing on my arm, making me the proudest man alive. Men and women had stared at her, and all I had thought was, She’s spoken for. Yes, this is the woman I’m going to marry one day.
“Man, she whipped that red, snapping pussy on you, too, huh? Consider yourself lucky, G. You only put in two weeks. I’m telling you,” Benito said, puckering his lips like a baby getting ready to cry.
Exhaling, I cut him off and said, “Yeah, I guess, but don’t compare me to you, ever.”
What had impressed me the most about Honey wasn’t her ability to sex me senseless; it was the business objectives for her company. After becoming successful, I wanted what my parents had. I wanted someone special to share my life with. I truly wanted to marry a black woman like Obama’s wife, a woman who would dedicate her life to improving the community in a huge way. A woman who knew her self-worth. A woman who would stand by me and be a wonderful mother to our children.
I had to stop thinking about Honey…but I couldn’t. With all my investments, I could have sex with practically any woman I wanted, including those two women I’d met at Starbucks, but the only woman I desired to make love to was Honey.
“Give me a job,” Benito blurted. “I can handle things here in the office while you travel, or I can manage one of your properties, for a good salary and a free apartment.”
I shook my head. “Outside of football, you don’t have any employable skills. Besides, I don’t trust you,” I said, suppressing my memory of Honey drizzling hot chocolate syrup on my chest, abs, dick, and balls, then smearing it all over me with her pussy.
I’d grown tired of sharing my bed with strange and estranged women. I no longer wanted to pretend I enjoyed the company of highly intellectual women who didn’t realize they had four holes between their thighs that could generate orgasmic pleasure, from clitoral orgasms to vaginal orgasms to ejaculating secretions produced by the Skene’s glands—which they squirted from the urethral canal, the same way I shot cum from my nuts through my dick—to anal orgasms. Those women made me impervious to their empty promises of giving me unforgettable sexual pleasure. My eyes closed for a few seconds as I relived some of those disappointing situations.
“Okay,” Benito said. “Is it the silk scarf tied around your nuts while you’re fucking her doggie style, and just when you start cuming, she tugs your balls, and you screaam like a bitch because that shit feels so fucking good. Or—”
Opening my eyes, I felt my forehead buckle as I stared at that fool. “I’m not giving you a job, nor am I going to sit here and swap X-rated stories with you.”
Yeah, I knew exactly what Benito was talking about, and that shit had felt fucking fantastic. I needed to release the backed-up cum building inside my nuts. If I had sex tonight as planned with those two ladies I’d met, fine, but if I didn’t, that was okay, too. I’d stroke my own dick. But either way, I was busting a big one tonight. Since my breakup with Honey two and a half weeks ago, my encounters