Cherry Bomb

  Get a grip, Cherry. You acted like a filthy whore. It is time to move on and act like a mom.

  I pulled into my driveway, and glanced around. I lived in an upscale neighborhood full of Stepford wives but it was empty and meaningless. I wanted the life Drake could offer but after sixteen years playing the role of Queen Bee among the wives, I knew it was a life I could never have.

  I waved as the newest housewife in the community jog passed by in a pair of hot-pink yoga pants and a black halter top. I was sporting the white terrycloth robe that belonged to Drake, having not grabbed any of my clothes at Drake’s house. I paused for a minute. My walk of shame was complete.

  I got out of the car to make a quick dash to the door when I heard the phone ring for the first time. Master. I declined the call, but within seconds, the phone buzzed in my hand again.

  I promised myself I would never make the same mistake twice. So I hit the silence button. I climbed the steps to my front porch when Mrs. Pat walked up behind me.

  “Cherry, are you okay?”

  I clenched the robe tightly against my body and turned around, hoping she would not realize what my state of dress was.

  “Hey, out walking Mollie already?”

  I reached down to pat the growling little brown ball of fur when it snapped at my fingers, Great, could he sense I was a whore now too.

  “Yeah, Norman stayed over last night and I couldn’t sleep with all that snoring he was doing.”

  Pat was almost eighty and Norman was her sixty-year-old boy toy. I swore she had a better sex life than I ever had. It crossed my mind to tell her about the newest man in my life. But my days as a MILF were over. It was a once in a lifetime event.

  “I was going to get a biscuit from Hardee’s but forgot my wallet.” Nice save, Cherry. “Want to come in for a cup of coffee. The kids are at their dads.”

  I unlocked the door and motioned for her to come in but she shook her head.

  “Actually, I was planning on having coffee on the patio. Why don’t you join me?”

  “You know I think I will. Just let me change.”

  I stepped inside, took a deep breath, and then raced to my bedroom, where I caught the first reflection of myself in the mirror.

  Freshly fucked and used, that was the nice way to describe the way I looked.

  My hair was a tangled mess, and I sunk my teeth down into my lips as I remembered every detail of the night before.

  Deep red marks marred the side of my neck, shoulders, breast, and arms. I let my robe pool at my feet. A small bite mark was visible on my left inner thigh, a rather large hickey on the underside of my right breast. I couldn’t even remember him biting me.

  I ran my hands along the red scratches on my inner thighs. My nipples harden as I envisioned his unshaven face brushing along my skin.

  Jolted out of my thoughts by the vibrating of my cell, I pulled out whatever was on top of my dresser, changing quickly, and chunked my phone across the room.

  When I stepped back out on my front porch, Pat was sitting on the steps waiting for me.

  “It is such a beautiful morning, and the perfect time to sit outside and enjoy it.”

  We started walking toward her house with Mollie nipping at my heels. “Can I ask a personal question?” I asked, glancing over at her.

  “Of course.” She nodded. “As old as I am I might even have an answer.”

  She moaned as we climbed the stairs to her porch. I noticed she was giving to her right leg. I made a mental note to myself to check on her more often. She sat down on the white wicker swing, and I sat in the two-person settee opposite her.

  Her porch was my favorite on the street. It wrapped completely around the house, and she had filled it with homey touches; massive pots of flowers, and enough white wicker to furnish most average size apartments.

  “You had a question, sweetheart?”

  I frowned slightly. “How long have you and Norman been together?”

  “Oh, about twenty years. He finally met his match with me.”

  “So your age never got in the way . . . of you know . . . life?”

  She waved her hand dismissively. “Honey, the biggest burden in any relationship is worrying about what someone else thinks. If you find the person that makes you happy, the hell with everyone else, run with it.”

  Her housekeeper bought out a pot of coffee with some blueberry muffins and placed it on the table next to me.

  I picked up the pot and poured us each a cup then handed Pat hers with a muffin.

  I took a sip of coffee, pondering what she said. Was the only thing standing in my way of a relationship with Drake my own fears? Could an overweight, thirty-year-old stand a chance of forming a bond with a twenty-something sex god.

  She studied me for a second, taking a sip of her own cup. “You want a piece of advice?” Pat asked, pulling me from my recent thoughts.

  “Of course.”

  She sat her cup on the table in front of the swing, and smiled up at me. “If the kids are still at their dads tonight, I hope you get to have another sleepover. The blushing looks good on you,” she said with a wink.

  I didn’t respond. We simply sat in peace sipping our coffee and listening to a pair of mocking birds perched in the old oak tree in her front yard.

  “I should go. The kids should be home soon.” I placed the cup back on the tray, and started to stand.

  “It killed me to sit back and watch what your ex was doing. If you have found someone, enjoy. You deserve to have a little fun in this life.”

  “Thanks, Pat. Oh, Noah is selling wrapping paper for school. I am sure he will be by to see you soon.” I said, stepping down the steps and giving her a small wave.

  “Looking forward to it.”

  Walking back down the sidewalk to my yard, I realized it was not the age difference or physical attributes that made me run, it was the very thought his brand of sex came with safe words. Hell, his lifestyle should've been a warning label. I would've been crazy if I stayed.

  I looked around the neighborhood. Mr. Womack was already out mowing the lawn. Shellie was taking her coffee out on the veranda. Just a normal day. So why did my body suddenly hum in awareness? Awareness that someone was watching me.

  Drake Hart

  I was spent. You would think life couldn’t get any better than this. With a blonde grinding on my face and a brunette riding my cock, I was living every male’s dream. These girls had no idea who they had gotten involved with. Sex was only part of the game. Pain was what truly got my blood pumping.

  Baring my nails down in the brunette’s breast, I worked my tongue over the blonde’s pussy until she was screaming into the brunette’s mouth. The sound was all wrong. I bit down on the blonde’s ass cheek hard enough to bring blood.

  I had spent every night, since Cherry Webb walked out of my life, at the club, trying to forget her.

  I ended up spending the last two nights with these girls. They still had a lot to learn but they were attentive and fast studies. I gave them both orgasms but I was left empty and unfulfilled.

  Cherry Webb didn’t only fall at my feet but into the deepest, darkest part of my soul.

  I pushed both the girls off of my body.

  “Get the hell out.”

  I collapsed back on the bed, not even acknowledging the girls as they grabbed their clothes to leave.

  “Did we do something wrong, Sir?” the blonde asked.

  I glared at them but didn’t have the words to address them, and slid on my pants sans underwear.

  It was not the moans I wanted to hear, their faces couldn’t compare to the face I saw when I close my eyes.

  Fuck, I hadn’t come since Cherry walked her sweet ass out my front door.

  I could dream about her every night and still want to spend my days with her. Her body curved in all the right places. She viewed herself as fat. I only saw a body that got my dick to stir every time.

  She was real.

  That woman was my favorit
e screw ever.

  I had experimented with more than one type of drugs. They never did anything for me. Billy was not so lucky. He tried meth one time, got the high of his life, and was hooked. It took him twelve years to finally clean up his act and free himself from the bonds of drugs. Cherry was my meth. All it took was one night, and I was hooked for a lifetime.

  I reached for my glasses when the door flew open.

  “I thought I paid you good money to get a simple job done. I know she is no looker but hell, she’s screwable.” One of my newest clients stormed into my private suite at the club followed closely by two of my security guards.

  “Sorry, Sir, the only way to stop him was with force.”

  I raised my hand to the guards and nodded. They were the least of my concern. Cherry’s husband stood only a foot from me, and it took everything in me not to use force on him myself. But I couldn’t. I had to play it cool. If he only knew that Cherry had gone long passed a job into something personal, I was terrified what he might do.

  I slowly scratched my fingers through my hair. James Webb paced the floor.

  We couldn't have been less alike. His lean, willowy frame didn’t compare to my muscular one. I measured in at six feet, two inches. James was closer to five feet, six inches. His peppered brown hair and dark brown eyes were the perfect contrast to my pale blond hair and blue eyes. The only thing we had in common was he was paying me to spy on and sleep with his wife. A job I would do willingly.

  “First off, if you ever barge into my personal space again, you’ll be paying for a nice long vacation in the ICU.” I popped my fingers with a squeeze of my fist. “Now to Mrs. Webb, I promise she’s my number one concern.”

  James sat down at the foot of the bed and crossed his arm. He was fidgeting but the major tip-off that he was nervous was the clenching of his teeth.

  “Anything else before I kick you off my bed?”

  He twisted his head to look over his shoulder. “She is taking me for everything I’ve worked hard for. She’s mad because I had a little fun on the side. Shit, wait to you sleep with her and you’ll understand why.”

  I have, and think you are the dumbest bastard in the world to throw it away.

  “I just want what I’ve agreed to pay an arm and a leg for,” James said.

  You can just want because I’m not giving you shit, you arrogant son of a bitch.

  I didn’t answer him, just stared him down with a look so cold it could have easily frozen the heart of any man. I pulled on my shirt to avoid punching his fucking brains out.

  “Believe me, I’ll take care of Mrs. Webb.” I buttoned up my shirt with one thought on my mind, Cherry. Even the high of money didn’t touch what she had given me.

  James realized that this was not the time, and he had wandered into a place he didn’t need to go.

  “I’m sorry. You’re right,” he said as he started to back out of the room, followed closely by the guards. “I’m stressed. There is a lot on the line, and I never lose,” he added before closing the door.

  Never, say never, you’ve never messed with the likes of me.

  I have had more than my share of women who gave up all control, without any demands or questions. It had been enough, until I fucked up and held her. She was so damn sweet. I had never had sweet before. I kicked a set of saw horses across the room.

  What the fuck was happening to me? I didn’t give two fucks what happened to anyone. I was cursed. Everyone I loved was destroyed because of me. So why did I think I could help her? Why did I believe I could wipe that sadness from her eyes? Hell, she wasn’t even worth trying. She walked out on me. I fell back on the bed with a plop. Those haunting green eyes of hers floated across my mind, and I knew I would try. I was always trying. But she was a battle I was determine not to lose.

  Cherry Webb

  I shoved the papers across the desk. I had been in a fog of uncertainty the past few weeks. Always on guard, always waiting for something to happen. I raised my head when I heard a knock on the door. Amy, the editor for the small magazine I worked at, walked in. I just hoped she was no longer obsessed with Master from the Dungeon. It was hard enough trying to forget without the constant reminder. At least his endless phone calls had ceased.

  “Got a minute?”

  I motioned for her to sit down, and started to gather my papers. “Sure thing. What do you need today?” Other than another interview with Tall, Blond, and Master.

  Moving to take a seat opposite me, she handed me a stack of papers. “New assignment. Too bad it is not a redo of Master.”

  I rolled my eyes. I have him on speed dial, I can always set up an appointment for you. I wiggled in my chair at the thought of Amy ever getting her hands on Master.

  “It’s a simple one. Photograph the homes and talk to the owners in Memphis’s annual Tour of Homes.”

  It was more my usual thing. I almost fell out of my chair at her request to interview Master anyway. Ours was more of a magazine for uppity working women, we covered the latest galas, home tours, the haves and the haves not of the community. Even if our targeted demographic frequented a sex club, it would be their dirty little secret. “By the way, when are you publishing the article on Sir?” Calling him Master would always be my dirty little secret.

  “Oh, the owner decided the article was too risqué to run. So just think of Sir as a gift from me.”

  As she turned to leave, I smiled. He was a gift I would have a hard time forgetting.

  Cherry Webb

  After driving halfway home, I realized I had been jamming out to my son’s Wiggle CD. I really needed to get out, and somewhere other than the fast food joints I found was supplying my dinner every night that week.

  I flung a French fry in the Burger King bag as my cellphone buzzed in my purse. I fished around finding it under my wallet and a half-eaten candy bar. The screen glowed with an unwelcomed text.

  James: You can keep YOUR daughter

  home next time. She has turned into

  a bitch like her mother.

  Me: You can bring them ALL home.

  I tossed the cell back into my purse, and cringed at the idea my children had to spend more than five seconds with him. How I spent sixteen-years loving him was beyond reason.

  I pulled onto my drive, and noticed my porch lights were on. I was positive I didn’t leave them on.

  Stop scaring yourself, the kids probably just came by to pick up something.

  Running my hands down my face, I let out an audible breath. Lately, I’d been wound up, and needed to get out and release some of my nerves. I reached across the seat to pick up my meal.

  I know a place where all your problems melted away, my subconscious reminded me.

  As I locked my car door, I felt someone watching me.

  My scalp tingled, the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end, hives broke out over my entire body.

  It’s just your imagination. Who in their right mind wants to watch this?

  I could tell myself that, but my heart still wouldn’t stop rushing in my chest.

  I scanned the premises, telling myself I was crazy. Until I saw him. A man in a dark colored hoodie, standing in my neighbor’s yard.

  He stood next to her mailbox, watching me from under the hood of his sweatshirt. I waved in his direction. But he never acknowledged me. The only evidence he even saw me was when he slipped his hands in his pockets, taking on a defiant pose.

  I should’ve called the police but he was making no move to bother me. He was just there.

  In fact, seeing him stirred something deep in me. Instead of worsening my overacted nerves, seeing him calmed them.

  I heard Pat calling me from her front porch, causing my attention to shift from him to Pat.

  I waved in her direction, but before walking over to her, my eyes glanced back to him. He was gone, and suddenly I felt lost.

  “Did you see that guy?” I asked, pointing over my shoulder to where he was standing.

  “See who,
sweetie?” she asked, before hanging a fern back up on the hook swinging from the porch ceiling.

  I shook my head, and looked one more time to see if I saw him again.

  “Never mine.” I winked to avoid any awkward questions. “The kids are gone for the night; I guess I’m a little spooked.”

  “Pat, darling,” I heard Norman holler from the front door.

  I took that as my cue to leave. With a wave of my hand, I twisted around, and said a prayer I would see my man-in-black again.

  Cherry Webb

  “Enjoying my money,” James, my soon-to-be ex, said as he helped our youngest son out of the car at Touchdown Wings. It was our two son’s favorite hang-out, and I thought it would be a pleasant place to have James drop them off from their weekend visit from his house. I should have known that James would have to get in one of his many sly remarks. I handed Noah, our eight-year-old, a five-dollar bill, and motioned for him to take Henry, our five-year-old, in to play video games, not wanting them to see another showdown between their mom and dad.

  “And you wonder why our daughter goes to a friend's house instead of staying at yours,” I replied.

  The heat that radiated from within burned my eyes and blurred my vision. James had shattered me. For a brief moment, I was not sure if I would be able to go on farther with my life. I had sacrificed everything to please him. But nothing I ever did was good enough. Even now as I tried to move on, he found fault with my every movement. I would never regret my marriage to him, however, it gave me my three greatest blessings. My fourteen-year-old daughter, Ruby, and two sons. But it would not hurt my feelings if I never had to see him again.

  “Can you at least one time drop off the boys without attacking their mom?”

  “No, she doesn’t have a problem taking my money or my daughter away from me. So she can learn to listen to the crap she gives out.”