“Patricia, you in there?” I rapped loudly on her door.
“Hey, what’s up, gurl?” she asked, yanking it open.
“I need a favor. Well, two actually.”
“Sure. What do you need?”
“I need to borrow a dress.” I walked into her room. “Something fancy.”
“Aw, sounds like you have a hot date,” she prodded.
“I don’t know about hot but I have one with Trevor.”
“I see.” Her whole attitude immediately changed.
“I won’t go if you prefer,” I offered, feeling guilty. “I can call him right back and tell him all bets are off.”
“No, it’s cool,” she replied despondently. “I guess some people just have to learn the hard way.” I refused to comment before the situation turned ugly. “So where is he taking you, other than to his place to check out his water bed?”
“I have no intention of going to his place tonight or any other night!” I stated convincingly, which was no problem because I was dead serious on that point. I was planning on going out on one date with him to help get my mind off Clarence and that was it.
“Whatever, gurl.” She rolled her eyes, crossed her arms, and smacked her lips. “Once he works his magic on you, you’ll be begging him to take the drawers.” I stood there debating whether to tell her off or just leave altogether. Gratefully, she saved me the trouble of doing either. “Never mind all that. Where are you going?”
“To see the Dance Theater of Harlem at the Kennedy Center.”
She appeared genuinely stunned. “Trevor is really shelling out some cash on you. I hope you’re ready to shell out some ass.” I took a deep breath, upset that she would even imply such a thing. “I have this pretty little red number that would be perfect. Let me get it out of my closet.”
“Thanks.” I waited for her to riffle through her vast wardrobe and pull it out. It was an ankle-length strapless silk dress. I had only seen dresses like that in magazines. “It’s beautiful.”
“I think it will fit. I don’t have any shoes that will fit you though. You look like you wear about a size seven shoe and I’m a nine.”
“No problem. I have some shoes.”
“I also have a red dinner jacket you can borrow. It might get chilly out tonight.” I grinned at her, thankful that she was helping me. I definitely didn’t have anything appropriate to wear nor could I afford to buy anything on such short notice. “So what’s the other favor?”
“Can you help me look a little more presentable?” I asked, embarrassed that I felt I couldn’t do it alone. “I mean, with my hair and makeup?”
Patricia laughed at me and retrieved her makeup bag from her dresser. “Just call me Fairy Godmother Pat.”
“I’m speechless,” Trevor said, looking debonair in a black double-breasted suit and flamboyant tie.
“I hope that’s a good sign?” I asked, as nervous as a whore in church.
“Definitely!” He walked up to me on the sidewalk in front of the door, wrapped his arms around me, and kissed me on the cheek. I instantly became overheated. “You look like a princess all dressed up like that.”
“Thanks for the compliment.” I pushed him away from me before my nipples got hard again and started protruding out of the tight dress.
“Shall we go?” He opened the passenger-side door of his Porsche 911 and guided me inside.
“Certainly,” I replied, sinking back into the fine leather bucket seat while I waited for him to join me.
“This is the most beautiful place I have ever seen!” I proclaimed as we walked into the Kennedy Center. The atmosphere was breathtaking and the chandeliers almost blew me away.
“It’s not half as beautiful as you.” Trevor kissed me on my cheek again and I melted. “After the show, I’ll have to take you out on the balcony so we can look over the Potomac River into Virginia.”
“Sounds wonderful.”
We stood in line to get some cocktails and I decided to try a gin and tonic, which was taking a walk on the wild side for me. Other than experimenting with Mad Dog 20/20 a few times in the pool hall, and my uncle Rod’s moonshine during the holidays, I hadn’t dabbled much in alcohol.
“Let’s take our seats, Mary Ann.” Trevor paid the bartender for our drinks and left a couple of ones in the tip glass. “The show is about to start.”
“So, what did you think?” Trevor asked me as we stood on the balcony after the show. I was speechless the entire time because I had never imagined anything so creative and innovative. The music had been perfect, the dancers had been perfect, Trevor had held my hand the entire time and that had felt perfect.
“I think I’m living a fairy tale.” I looked out over the Potomac River and the lights in Virginia were nothing short of incredible. “Going places and experiencing things I’ve only read about.”
Trevor placed my jacket over my shoulders and then cradled me with his left arm. “Stick with me and there will be a lot of nights like this.”
“Really?” I searched his eyes for an honest answer. “Part of me wants to believe that, Trevor.”
“And the other part?”
“The other part is still unsure about your intentions,” I answered, looking back out over the river. “I’ve heard so many negative things.”
“Don’t listen to them. Most people are just jealous.” He lifted my chin, forcing me to gaze into his dark, bedroom eyes. “A lot of women like me. You know that, but I’m following my heart and I hope that you will too.”
We shared our first kiss and it was warm and delightful. I pulled away when it felt like he was lingering in my mouth a little too long and intimately.
“Can we go back to my place?” His hard dick was pressing against me through our clothing.
I shook my head, determined to stand my ground. “No, it’s too soon.”
“I understand.” He kissed me lightly on the forehead. “I better get you back to the dorm.”
6
Patricia
I couldn’t stand the way Mary Ann was acting. It had been three weeks since Trevor had taken her to see the Dance Theater of Harlem and all she ever talked about was him. How he had taken her to fabulous restaurants, bought her romantic trinkets, and catered to her every whim. It was nauseating.
Something had to be done. Drastic times called for drastic measures. Although, I knew from the moment I first met Mary Ann that she was APF material. Or could be turned into APF material, at least.
The sorors weren’t going to be happy about it, but, oh well. I thought it was time to expand the D.C. chapter. All of the other chapters across the country were growing by leaps and bounds, and a new chapter had been formed in Chicago. We needed to play catch-up so we would be strongly represented at the annual convention.
I tracked Mary Ann down on a bench outside the student union, looking like she was floating on air. I wanted to ask her if she had given up the pussy to Trevor yet but I knew she would pitch a hissy fit. I didn’t want Trevor for myself, after all, but he had hurt my feelings when I first started law school. I came full of hope of getting not only a great education but also a great man. He was the first one to show me some attention, kind of the same scenario as with Mary Ann. In my case it turned out that he wanted only to fuck me and then tell me to get a life.
Two years in APF had made a world of difference in my life. Olive found me and made me a real woman. She taught me the difference between love and sex and how both could exist in a woman’s life without ever coinciding. Joining APF was the best thing I had ever done, and even though I wasn’t seriously dating a man at the time, I had the most awesome sex at my beck and call. I was living large and it was time for Mary Ann to start living large too.
“Mary Ann, what’s up, gurl?”
“Hey, Patricia!” She gazed up at me, flashing a perfect grin. “Just doing a little studying. It’s chilly out but it’s still a beautiful day so I thought I would take advantage of it. I get sick of studying in my room and in the library all of
the time.”
“I can dig it.” I sat down on the bench beside her, moving a couple of her textbooks over. Just the sight of the antitrust law book sent chills up my spine. I hated that class when I took it. “I was wondering what you have planned for this weekend.”
“Nothing much. Trevor is going home to see his folks.”
Oh boy! Her whole life had begun to revolve around Trevor. “Well, that’s a good thing.”
“Why is that?” She asked the question with an edge of sarcasm in her voice.
“Whoa, there’s no reason to get defensive about Trevor around me.” I patted her on the knee. “You’re a grown woman and I respect your decisions.”
“I’m glad you do.” She shut the book she was reading and closed her composition book. “What’s going on this weekend?”
“I belong to this all-female investment club and I was wondering if you wanted to sit in on our monthly meeting Saturday.”
“Investment club!” She laughed in my face. “I barely have two nickels to rub together, much less money to invest in the stock market or whatever it is you all invest in.”
“We invest in different things and, trust me, you don’t need a lot of money to get your foot in the door.” I began to rethink my actions. I wasn’t sure inviting her without consulting the others was fair.
“How much money do you need?”
Her interest seemed genuinely piqued. However, if she’d known the real deal, she would’ve run for the hills. “Twenty, thirty dollars a month,” I replied, shrugging my shoulders. “Whatever you can afford to pitch in. Your return is based on your initial investment.”
“So let me get this straight. You combine your finances and invest in things and then split the profits?”
“We don’t really touch the profits,” I stated honestly. “That defeats the purpose. The real money is in long-term investments but our portfolio is extremely versatile.”
“Sounds cool.”
Cool? She was getting hip and everything! “Yes, it is cool. So, you interested?”
“Maybe, but what about the other women in the club? Do you think they’ll mind?”
“No, not at all.” I was lying my ass off. I would be lucky if Olive didn’t slap the shit out of me on sight. “They always welcome new members.”
“How many of you are there?”
“Twelve.”
“That’s a small group.”
“Yes, but we belong to a larger group.”
“Really?”
I knew I was going a little bit too far so I just said, “I’ll explain that all to you later. So, are you down or not?”
She started pulling on her gloves. The wind had picked up in a matter of moments and it was turning chilly. “Sure, why not? I don’t have anything else to do Saturday with Trevor going out of town and all.”
I turned my head so she couldn’t see me rolling my eyes. “Wonderful.” I looked back at her. “We’ll leave about two, okay?”
“Okay.” I got up to leave. “What about a dress? Is this one of those fancy type of meetings?”
“No, not really.” I suppressed a laugh, wondering how she would react if we fell up in there and everyone was buck naked playing with dildos. That never happened at investment club meetings though. We were strictly business. “Just wear whatever you feel comfortable in.”
“Okay.” I was about thirty feet away when she yelled out at me. “Thanks for inviting me!”
I snickered, anxious for Saturday to get there so I could see what would become of my dirt. “Oh, you’re so very welcome, Mary Ann. Don’t mention it.”
7
Olive
I was hoping the investment meeting didn’t go over the two hours allotted for it that day. We hadn’t started the meeting yet because Patricia was running late, and I was ready for the chicas to get out my crib already. I needed to get to the beauty parlor by six to get my hair done for a medical society benefit I was attending that night. I was hoping to hit Georgetown Park Mall long enough to pick up a new dress as well. Plus, I was suffering from PID (Pussy in Distress).
I’m a plastic surgeon and it had been a long week at the office. Mad women had simultaneously felt the urge to get something nipped and tucked or implanted. There was a plastic surgery boom those days. The trend began in the late nineteen eighties and had grown twofold by the nineties. I was happy as shit about it too. The more people that were unhappy with their appearance, the more money in my pocket.
People, in particular my parents, always bombarded me with questions about why I chose to become a plastic surgeon instead of a cardiologist or neurologist. I knew what the deal was when a few of my friends in college opted to get silicone injections instead of stuffing their bras with toilet tissue and socks. I mean, after all, eventually the clothes have to come off and no man wants to suck on a pair of sweat socks.
Anyway, back to my PID issue. I hadn’t had sex in five days—a long-ass time when you like to get your freak on as much as I do. My boyfriend Hakim worked for a large computer corporation based out of Hong Kong and spent a lot of time overseas. In fact, it was just as well that Hakim and I didn’t see each other much because it meant I had more time for Drayton.
Hakim was a sensible relationship while Drayton was strictly a fuck thing. In fact, he never even knew my real name the entire time we were fucking the shit out of each other. I never brought him over to my place and he had no idea what I did for a living. He just knew I loved to fuck and as far as I was concerned, that’s all his ass needed to know.
Hakim, on the other hand, knew everything about me. He had even flown home with me to San Francisco on several occasions to see my folks. He was the type of man I could take to social gatherings, the type of man I could justify a serious relationship with, and the type of man that could afford me. Not that I can’t afford my own luxuries but why should I work my ass off while a man sits at home on the couch all day? D.C. has tons of fine-ass men but a lot of them bad boys are hanging on the corner day and night. That’s just not for me.
I peeped at the time on the clock Hakim bought for me in Switzerland that stood on my mantel. It was a quarter to four. Where the hell was Patricia? I was just about to poll the sorors to see if any of them knew her whereabouts when the doorbell rang. Bout damn time!
I was all set to get into Patricia’s ass when I swung the door open, but my mouth fell open instead. The chica had shown up with someone else in tow. Before I could regain my composure, Patricia ran up to me, embraced me, and whispered in my ear. “Don’t have a hissy fit. I can explain.”
I threw on a factitious smile and eyed the sistah in my doorway up and down. She looked more nervous than a virgin in a whorehouse. She was attractive. And trust me, I know attractive features. They are my bread and butter. She had these huge, sparkling brown eyes; full, luscious lips; naturally curly, shoulder-length brown hair; and a body some women would cut their right arm off for.
“Hey, Olive, sorry we’re late,” Patricia said loudly, letting the other women in my place know she had arrived and wasn’t alone. I heard whispers coming from the living room. Yvette peeked her head around the corner to see what was going on and then quickly disappeared so she could issue a full report to the others. “Olive, this is Mary Ann Ferguson,” Patricia said, pointing to her friend who was sporting a dress I’d seen Patricia wearing on more than one occasion. “Mary Ann, this is Olive—”
I jumped in before she could blurt out my real last name. “Cox,” I stated. “My name is Olive Cox.”
This Mary Ann chica laughed, not overlooking the irony of my pseudonym.
She proffered her hand. “Nice to meet you, Olive Cox.”
I shook it but refrained from saying it was nice to meet her because it wasn’t. I was too busy wondering if Patricia had lost her damn mind. I could tell in the span of one sentence that the sistah was a country bumpkin and country bumpkins and I had never mixed. That’s why I try to avoid my family reunions in North Cackalaky as much as I ca
n.
“Come on in.” Patricia brushed past me into the living room with the black Tammy Wynette in tow. “Let me introduce you to the others.”
“Umm, Patricia,” I called after her, muttering some expletives underneath my breath. “Can I see you in my bedroom for a moment?”
“Everyone, this is Mary Ann,” I heard her announce. “Mary Ann, this is everybody. Please introduce yourselves, sistahs.”
Even from my vantage point, I could tell no one was saying a word. “Patricia, we need to talk. Now!”
“I’ll be right back, Mary Ann,” she told her protégée. “Just have a seat wherever you like and help yourself to the refreshments.”
“Thanks,” I heard the country bumpkin reply. “Hello, everyone.”
Still, no one said a word and I didn’t blame them.
I waited for Patricia in my bedroom, and once she entered, I closed the door. “How dare you bring that countrified chica up in my place?” I laid into her ass.
“Olive, calm down,” she snickered. “Mary Ann’s cool people.”
I crossed my arms in front of me and rolled my eyes up to the ceiling. “Mary Ann! What an Arcadian-sounding name. I bet her daddy owns a pig farm down in Tennessee!”
Patricia fell out laughing and plopped down on my king-sized bed. “Actually, her dad raises chickens in South Dakota.”
I knew it! She had Hee Haw written all over her ass! “Patricia, what’s so damn funny? I’m not the least bit amused by any of this. I know the rest of the sorors are out there sitting on pins and needles.”
“I don’t see why they would be.” She picked up the latest edition of Essence off my nightstand and started flipping through an article they had on African-American bachelors. “It’s only our investment club meeting.”
“It’s only our investment club meeting. It’s only our investment club meeting,” I repeated, mocking her. “We all made an agreement that no one would bring someone up in here without the sorority discussing it first.”