“Oh, Damon’s married. He and I used to be friends, but we’re chilling now.”
“Used to be friends, huh?” Tony seemed skeptical. “Uh-huh, whatever.”
“Can we get back to my question?” I popped him lightly in the chest, and he acted like Tyson had just punched him. “Stop overreacting and tell me the deal.”
“Well, in my case, I always wanted something thick and long filling up my insides. I’ve never been into being the one who has to stick and move.” The man in the black got up from their table and was walking toward us. “I want someone to do me like they’re trying to knock a hole in something and—”
“Excuse me,” the man in black said. “We’re still waiting on our check.”
Tony put his hand on his hip. “I’ll be right there. My business associate and I are discussing a corporate matter.”
The man seethed and walked off.
“He’d better fucking wait. He’ll get his check when I say he’ll get his check.”
“ ‘A corporate matter’?” I laughed. “ ‘Business associate’?”
“Well, the shit sounded good.” Tony giggled. We both noticed the man in black get up again and head to the bathroom. “Oops, time to make my move.”
Tony rushed off to talk to the man in the blue while his man was gone and added up their check there at the table. I could see their flirtatious nature from where I was standing. One of my customers waved me over for some more napkins and another soda.
By the time I was done taking yet another order, the two men were gone and Tony looked disgusted.
“What happened? He turned you down?” I asked.
“No, he wanted some of my stuff, but he’s a bug chaser.”
“A what?”
“Can you believe that some people want to catch HIV so bad that they ask other people to give it to them?”
“He asked you if you were positive?” I was shocked. “So you could give it to him? That’s absurd!”
“What’s really crazy is that some people have bug-chaser parties. They’ll be like fifty men there, and two or three will be the givers and all of them come hoping to catch it.”
“You’re making this shit up, Tony!”
“No, I’m not.”
“But why would anyone want to catch HIV?”
He shrugged. “A lot of people figure that they’ll end up getting it anyway, so why not orchestrate their own destiny. Some are grieving over losing a lover to the disease. Some are just plain crazy. Like people who play Russian roulette, or let poisonous snakes bite them and shit.”
“So why did he want it?” I asked, nodding toward the now empty table.
“Do you think I asked? Fuck if I care. I’m clean and I’m staying clean. I get tested every other month.”
“Why so often?”
“Brooke, in many ways, you’re like a naive little girl, so allow me to educate you. This world has gone to shit. People are fucking like there’s no tomorrow. People are going around screwing with reckless abandon. Straight, gay, it doesn’t matter. You’d better be careful. Hell, a lot of the men who go to bug-chaser parties are married. Peep that.”
“Are you serious?”
“Stop asking if I’m serious. You know me. What reason on earth would I have to lie about anything?”
Tony had a point. He was the most open and honest person that I knew. You could either accept him as he was or go on about your business.
“Just like you have no problem telling someone to kiss your monkey, people can kiss my ass if they don’t like me.”
I laughed. “You know, since I broke up with Patrick, I don’t think I’ve had to tell one single person to kiss my monkey.”
Tony grinned. “Well, the night’s still young. Here comes Hank.”
Hank was coming back into the diner from who knows where and might as well have had the word attitude stamped on his forehead. Both Tony and I started pretending like we were superbusy to avoid his wrath. He had been looking at me strangely ever since Destiny told him that I’d had a nervous breakdown in high school. It was like he was waiting for me to go postal or something. Damn shame!
It is amazing how you can conjure up people by the mere mention of their name. When I left the diner that night, Patrick’s Bentley was parked beside my Corolla.
“I figured if you won’t take my calls, I should come by.” He was standing by my driver’s-side door. “We need to talk, Brooke.”
I tried to pretend he was not there and maneuvered around him to unlock my door.
“Oh, so you’re going to act as if I’m not standing here?”
“Patrick, I got your messages. You know I got them. Since I didn’t call you back, doesn’t that tell you something?”
“I can’t live without you, Brooke. I’ve tried and I can’t do it.”
I looked at him and he was gazing into my eyes. I could see the pain and anguish in his.
“You should have thought about that before, Patrick. Getting back with you would only mean setting myself up for the same hurt and disappointment.”
He started caressing my neck, my weak spot. “Just one more chance. Let me make love to you tonight; let me show you how special we can be.”
I should have pushed him away from me and headed straight back to Destiny’s place. But nothing was waiting for me there—no one. I thought about Damon and how he was probably at home, at that very moment, making love to Carleigh. The mere thought of the two of them together sent a stinger through my heart.
The one thing that certainly couldn’t be denied was that Patrick cared about me. I recalled what Damon said about not expecting Carleigh to be perfect. Yet, part of me expected Patrick to be that very thing. I needed to be held; I needed some tenderness; and I could either go out and find it in the arms of a perfect stranger or return to a familiar place.
The things Tony had said to me earlier didn’t escape me either. He was right. Having sex with anyone was risky, but at least I’d been with Patrick for a long time. Sure, he had been inside another woman—I saw that with my own eyes—but at least he cared. I never believed he would go as far as infecting me with something.
I was depressed, horny, and confused, which is why I said, “Let’s go back to your place.”
Patrick grinned and took my hand, leading me to the passenger’s seat of his car.
Patrick and I bathed together when we arrived at his penthouse. As he stripped down, I took in every inch of him. I’d almost forgotten how handsome he was. Smooth skin; great body; juicy dick. I was already in the garden tub, with the whirlpool jets going, and playing with my little rubber ducky that I’d left there. I don’t think Patrick had ever figured out that it was actually a vibrator that I used when I was alone. What he didn’t know couldn’t hurt him. As freaky as Patrick was, he felt competitive when it came to sex toys. He felt that he was breaking me off well enough that I should not need—or even want—to masturbate. What men fail to realize is that orgasms for women are usually greater during masturbation. That is why a lot of women feel like they never achieve orgasms with their men. I have a theory. I believe that they actually do have them, but they expect them to be earth-shattering and toe-curling and expect to experience aftershocks, like they do when they play with themselves. Instead, the orgasms are minor and they spend too much time stressing over why they didn’t explode or squirt like a fountain. As long as sex is enjoyable and the man is not complaining, women need to ease up on that whole orgasm thing. All that “cumming at the same time” only happens in romance novels.
We exploded in unison!
I held off from cumming until he exploded inside me, and then I came all over his dick!
Our juices mixed together at the same exact time!
Whatever! Blah, blah, blah, blah!
I liked to read the kind of books where women were serious about their shit and didn’t care whether their men got their nuts off or not. A new author was on the scene named Cairo. I was shocked to find out that a man had w
ritten The Kat Trap and The Man Handler. Those women in his two novels were slaying dicks and taking names. I was anxiously awaiting his next two books, Daddy Longstroke and Deep Throat Diva. Now those were some titles for your ass.
My mind was wandering, even though Patrick was stepping into the tub. Bad sign! All of my thoughts should have been on him, but I was playing a game and I realized it. Yes, Patrick cared, in his own convoluted fashion. Yes, he desired me and wanted to make me happy, or so he thought. Yes, I was used to being around him and had a certain level of comfort when I was near him—until he started calling me out of my name or acting like I was beneath him. But mostly, I just needed to be fucked to get my mind off Damon.
He’s probably at home fucking Carleigh right now, I thought as Patrick’s dick lingered in front of my face.
Without his even having to ask for once, I engulfed him in my mouth and greedily began to milk his dick, contracting my cheek muscles and tasting his pre-cum as it trickled down my throat.
Patrick moaned. “You missed Magnum, didn’t you?”
Stroking his ego, I replied, “Um, yes, I missed Magnum so much, baby.”
As I continued to suck him off, I used one hand to caress his balls and the other to form a vise around the lower part of his dick.
“Damn, Brooke, did you skip dinner?” Patrick asked, then chuckled, grabbing the back of my head to maneuver his dick in and out more smoothly.
I hated it when he did that, but decided not to complain for once. Men don’t get it. When women suck dick, we want to be left to our own acquired skills, instead of being directed like a hired worker. That is the true enjoyment—the only enjoyment—that women get from sucking dick; believing that our skill set is stronger than the next chick’s. We want to bring a man down to his knees with our head game; not be made to feel like any other woman could do the same exact thing. Men really need to get a clue.
Patrick got more head time from me that night than at any other moment in our relationship. I sucked him, and sucked him, and sucked him, until he exploded in my mouth.
Damn, I thought. I’m trapped in the tub!
I yearned to be able to brush my teeth and gargle his seed out of my throat, but that would only have started an argument and ruined the moment. This was the first time that I was not in a position to rinse my mouth after sucking his dick. That didn’t escape Patrick either, and he decided to take advantage of it. He got down on his knees, straddling my legs in the tub, and buried his tongue in my mouth before I could lodge a protest. I thought about the night that I’d seen him with Mandawhore and realized that it was truly important to him to be able to kiss me after he had ejaculated. It was disgusting to me, but I endured it. Endured; not a good word to use about having sex.
When Patrick finally gave me a second to breathe, I blurted out, “I want to ride that big dick of yours.”
That got to him, like I knew it would. He grinned like a little boy and sat back on the opposite end of the tub. I reached under the water and gave him a hand job. It didn’t take long for him to achieve another erection; an even harder one this time. Not wanting to risk his trying to kiss me again, I sat down on his dick with my back to him. Then I handed him a bar of soap.
“Wash my back for me.”
“I’ll wash anything you want.”
Patrick lathered up his hands and rubbed them all over my back, then my ass, and my breasts as I continued to go up and down, and from side to side, on top of him. It did feel good, fucking him. Then again, it had been so long since I’d fucked anyone else. I closed my eyes and pretended that Patrick’s dick was Damon’s dick. I wondered if Damon would fill up my pussy more. I suspected that he would, based upon what I’d scoped out and felt rub against me once or twice.
I imagined Damon licking my back; spreading my ass cheeks and blowing on my anus; grabbing my breasts from behind and teasing my hardened nipples. I was about to climax when Patrick ruined it for me.
“Penny for your thoughts.”
I winced. Thank goodness he couldn’t see the expression on my face as my eyes popped open.
“I’m just thinking about how much I’ve missed this big, juicy dick of yours,” I lied. “How much I’ve missed you.”
“Then let’s get married,” he whispered, making an already difficult moment even more tense. “By this time tomorrow, you can be Mrs. Patrick Sterling.”
I relaxed my pussy muscles and sucked in a breath.
“Marry me, Brooke. I promise that I will be the man that you need, the man that you deserve. I’ll give you everything you’ve ever wanted. You’ll never need or want for anything, ever again.”
I didn’t respond.
“Brooke …” Patrick pushed me off him and tried to turn me to face him. “Talk to me. Please, baby. What’s wrong?”
I gazed into his eyes, seeking the right words. “Patrick, you talk about my needs and wants like you understand me. You don’t understand me. Not really.”
“I do understand you, Brooke. I love you.”
“I believe that you love me, but love isn’t always enough.”
“So what are you saying?”
“I’m saying that you’re rushing me into making a hasty decision that I’m not prepared to make. We haven’t been together for a minute, Patrick, but I came here with you tonight. It’s a start, but this is not the endgame. You can’t fuck me in the tub one time and think that I can forget about everything that happened. You can’t seriously expect me to marry you when we have so many problems.”
“Nobody’s life is perfect, baby.”
“I understand that, but I’m not going to make a bad situation worse by exchanging vows that I’m not sure you’d mean.” I paused. “Or that I’m not sure that I would mean.”
The look of dejection on Patrick’s face got to me, and I felt bad. Not bad enough to retract my words though.
“Let’s enjoy each other, tonight. We don’t have to read too much into this.”
Patrick stunned me when he said, “I’ve seen you with him.”
I knew whom he was talking about, but played dumb. “With whom?”
“Don’t play dumb,” he said, reading me like a book. “Damon Johnson.”
“Damon’s my friend. You know that. You also know that he’s a married man.”
“If I’d been there that day, Brooke, I would’ve saved you. I should’ve been there, but you’d shut me out, yet again.”
“I shut you out because I watched you make love to another woman through a window, Patrick. Don’t try to make yourself out to be innocent.” I tried to climb out of the tub, but he held me to him. “Let me go.”
“No, not this time. That’s your solution to everything. Running away. Not this time. We’re going to talk about this.”
I sighed. “Fine, but I’m shivering. Can we get out of the tub and talk?”
“Sure, if you promise me you won’t throw on your clothes and haul ass out of here.”
“I promise.”
Patrick gazed into my eyes, probably trying to determine if he could trust me. Not a good sign. I was not going to leave without carrying through with the discussion.
“Okay, let’s get out,” he finally said, and released me from his grasp.
Patrick and I were sitting at the dining room table, sharing a bowl of kettle popcorn and drinking ginger ale. I’d brushed my teeth, of course, and felt a million times better. I still felt somehow violated by kissing Patrick with his seed in my mouth. He hadn’t forced me though, so I was tripping. Still, it gave me a good starting point for our discussion.
“Patrick, I don’t think we’re sexually compatible.”
He chewed the popcorn in his mouth and took a sip of his soda before responding. “We had incredible sex in the bathtub tonight.”
“It was good sex, but I didn’t want you to kiss me with your semen in my mouth. You knew that, right?”
“You’re making a big deal out of nothing.”
“Then there’s the anal thing.?
??
“I didn’t try to fuck you up the ass, Brooke!” He was getting irate. “I blew in your anus; that’s it.”
“That’s all you did tonight, but can you honestly say that if we got married, you wouldn’t expect me to let you fuck my ass?”
“It’s not a deal breaker for me.”
“But you’d want it, right?”
“Maybe once a year, or something. Like I said, it’s not a deal breaker.”
“What if I don’t want to be fucked up my ass once a year, or even once a decade? What if it makes me feel disgusted and it hurts like hell?”
“A woman should be willing to do anything to please her man. That’s a given.”
I snickered. “A given, huh? No, it’s not a given. A woman should be willing to please her man as long as it doesn’t make her feel uncomfortable.”
“That’s bullshit! Women know that what they won’t do, someone else will!”
“Is that where Mandawhore comes in?”
Patrick slammed his ginger ale down on the table, almost breaking the glass. “You’re never going to drop it, are you?”
“I don’t know if I can … drop it.”
“We’ll never work this out if you can’t forget about her. She’s history; I told you that.”
“She was also history the first time, when she dropped you and married someone else.” I paused and watched him pout like a child. “Admit it; there’s something about her that you can’t stay away from. She’s like your Achilles’ heel.”
“The hell she is. If I have an Achilles’ heel, you’re it. I can’t stay away from you. I love you, Brooke, and as soon as I get you down that aisle, all this nonsense is going to come to a halt.”
“You honestly believe that a marriage certificate is like a magic wand? That’s not the way it works, Patrick. If we got married, and that’s a big-ass if, we would still be the same two people, except we’d be legally bound together. We’d have the same problems; the same insecurities; the same dysfunctional relationship.”