Zane''s Busy Bodies: Chocolate Flava 4

  Her smile would have welcomed him into her arms even if she were the ugliest woman on the face of the planet. Fortunately, she was not. She was unbelievably beautiful. But her smile . . . her smile was more than merely beautiful. Her smile was legendary. He was a man who seldom daydreamed but, at that moment, he was hard-pressed to relinquish the thought of what the combination of her silk sepia tones and his bold complexion might produce.

  “Good afternoon,” she said.

  “Good afternoon,” he responded, with a little too much bravado.

  He couldn’t help himself. In her presence, he felt like a lovesick teenager.

  He found his seat, placed his carry-on in the overhead compartment, and waited for the inevitable moment when he would be close to her once again; maybe even close enough to touch her.

  “Uhm, did you see that hottie in row twelve? Suddenly I’m craving a tall, wet, steaming cup of hot chocolate,” Karen’s colleague Wendy said.

  “Hands off, you she-devil. I saw him first.”

  “Don’t worry about me. Georgie is sticking it to me on the regular; and girl, that shit is good!”

  “Yuck. You’re sleeping with Captain Saneval. He’s gross. You know he’s married with children, right?”

  “Shit yeah. I know, but we have an understanding.”

  “Oh” was her only response.

  Finally, she made her way over to row twelve.

  “What would you like to drink this afternoon, sir?”

  His eyes lingered longingly over her moist, freshly glossed lips. “A Coke, please.”

  She left and returned a moment later with his drink. “Here you go, sir.”

  “Thank you.”

  Whether it was by accident or accidentally on purpose he wasn’t sure, but the tips of their fingers touched and he was immediately aroused. She might as well have touched his cock directly; he would have been no less hard if she had. His erection poked insistently at his gabardine slacks, eager to find itself safely ensconced between her lips. Either set of them would have sufficed.

  In an attempt to distract himself during the lengthy eight-hour flight to the UK, he decided he would catch up on some reading. Even under her severely buttoned flight attendant’s uniform, he couldn’t help but be aware of her breasts straining against the fabric, her nipples erect—maybe from the air conditioning on the craft, or just maybe she wanted him, too, just maybe? There was such grace in her walk, yet that same grace was edged with the faintest hint of raw sexuality. He wanted her more than he wanted to breathe.

  “Would you like a blanket?” she asked.

  “Yes, thank you.”

  The polite banter of it all, remarkably, fueled his rising libido. He wanted to take her right there, in the middle of the aisle. He wanted to bend her over the edge of the armrest, hike her skirt above her waist, rip her pantyhose from her succulent thighs, discard her hopefully saturated panties, unzip his pants, and slide his blood-engorged cock deep inside her. He wanted to fuck her until neither of them had anything left. So, as he visualized her hips grinding deeper and deeper into his manhood, he realized that instead of the two of them giving the flight crew and passengers a hot and steamy show, they were talking about whether or not he required one of the airline-issued blankets to keep him warm. It made him hotter than he could have ever imagined. The duality of it all was somehow intoxicating.

  Finally, in the midst of going over some financial reports for work, he drifted off to sleep. Even his dreams were of her.

  The wind was blowing and her hair cascaded over her shoulders. She was clothed in a white, sheer, organza-like garment, her nipples playing peek-a-boo beneath the covering. She giggled, then appeared to run in slow motion toward him. As she ran, her breasts bounced in time to her movements. Her arms were outstretched and it felt as though she was coming toward him, but it seemed to be taking longer than it ought to. Why hadn’t she reached him yet? The anticipation of her presence was unbearable. He had never wanted anything or anyone as much as he wanted her at that exact moment. He busied himself with stroking his cock, waiting for her. He could feel the soft, gentle folds of her tight pussy walls drawing him in—and he stroked—and he stroked—and he stroked, as she closed the distance between them.

  “Sir, sir. Can I get you anything?”

  “No, I’m fine,” he said with a twinge of embarrassment.

  He hoped that none of what he had seen under the cover of sleep would be revealed.

  She reached over past the sleeping passenger sitting in the aisle seat next to him, and she gently stroked his cock through his pants, pleased with the result. As he sprang to life beneath her fingers, she left him a note and walked away.

  He opened the note and read it, more excited than he had ever been.

  “Meet me in the restroom; the one right behind you.”

  His heart pounding, his skin warm to the touch, he did as she had instructed and, after waiting a few seconds, joined her in the cramped airplane restroom.

  “So, Row Twelve. You’ve been staring at me the entire flight. Why is that? Do you wanna fuck me?” she asked.

  He was speechless.

  “Oh, I guess you don’t,” she said.

  As she pretended to exit the bathroom, he grabbed her around the waist, gripping her tightly, unwilling and unable to let her go. He opened the buttons to her uniform and turned her toward him. Her breasts were beautiful. They were so full and her nipples seemed to ache for him to suck them, and so he did. Licking and biting at her tasty globes, he spit on one of her nipples, eager to see her response. He lapped at her wet nipples, fascinated with the slow descent of his own saliva on her beautiful breasts. It was truly a work of art. His juices were the paint and her body the canvas. He desired to paint her from head to toe.

  “Oh, baby,” she moaned. “I need you to fuck me now. I want your cock inside of me. Fuck me please!”

  “Where do you want it?” he asked.

  The cramped quarters of the restroom mattered not to either of them. Neither wanted anything more than to be engulfed. While one hand was on her mouth to prevent her cries from being heard by the passengers and the crew, his other hand played with her juicy, hard clit. As she ground her pussy roughly against his hand, urging him to plunge his fingers deep inside her, he entered her ass, feeling her tight hole slowly welcome him. With her body pressed against the bathroom door, several of the passengers had to be well aware of what was going on as he drove his cock harder and deeper into her ass, feeling her welcome him in more and more.

  “Fuck my ass, baby. Oh, your cock is so fuckin’ hard. Fuck me, baby, fuck me,” she murmured against his hand.

  “Take it, baby, take it. Open up, I want to go deeper, deeper inside of you. You are so fucking tight. It feels soooooo good, baby; so fucking good!”

  He yearned to feel the inside of her pussy next and before he could spray the inside of her ass with his juices, he lifted her in the air and sat her pussy directly on his cock, gripping her body in his hands as if she were a rag doll.

  He bounced her up and down his cock with great ease; gripping her waist and watching the various contortions of her face, twisted in ecstasy as he reached even farther back inside her quivering pussy. And, just when he thought this state of nirvana would go on without ending, he exploded inside her. She bucked and jerked, her eyes rolling up in her head. She breathed in the scent of his sex, wanting to suck him, but realizing that outside the doors of the bathroom, duty called. As they came together, he held fast to her, biting at her neck, aroused by the reddish love bites he left.

  The two of them, left heaving and gulping for air, were satisfied, but still very much in need. There was so much he wished he had done; and he hoped for an opportunity (soon) to give her all that she deserved.

  “To be continued,” she uttered, reading his thoughts as she reluctantly peeled her body away from his.

  She adjusted her clothing and exited the bathroom, returning to her duties on the aircraft.

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; “Where is he?” her colleague asked.

  “He?” she questioned, just as he subtly returned from the bathroom.

  “Don’t act coy with me, missy.”

  “Coy? I’m quite sure I don’t know what you are talking about.”

  “Uh-huh. Yeah. I believe you. That banging and knocking I heard on the bathroom door was just turbulence, huh?”

  “Yeah, that’s it. It was turbulence, plain and simple.”

  As he returned to his seat, her colleague followed him.

  “Hello, Owen. Your heifer of a wife here didn’t tell me you’d be flying with us today. I had to find out from another member of the flight crew.”

  “I’m sure it was nothing personal. I think maybe Karen wanted to ensure that I got enough rest before we start our holiday; three fabulous weeks in Europe and no work to speak of. I think she has plans for me.”

  “Sounds to me like those plans already got well under way.”

  “I’m sure I don’t know what you are talking about.”

  “Why, of course, you don’t,” Wendy responded sarcastically. “That banging against the bathroom door was just a figment of my imagination.”

  “Yeah, that’s it,” he chimed in. “It was a figment of your imagination or maybe it was just good, old-fashioned—”

  “Turbulence!” both he and Wendy chimed in unison.

  “Yeah, I know, that’s what your wife tried to sell me on. I’ll tell you the same thing I told her, I’m not buying it.”

  Owen couldn’t help but laugh out loud. Karen’s partner in travel was everything she’d said she was. And he was convinced the two would have lots to talk about once Karen returned to work, after their vacation. In the meantime, Owen shut his eyes for a moment, anxious to replay the events of the day. He suddenly felt so lucky. No matter how many role-plays he and his wife engaged in—how many stolen moments in bars, pretending they were convenient strangers—when all was said and done, they each returned home to the same bed and the same home they had built . . . together.

  Collecting trash from the passengers, Karen stole a quick glance at her husband, Owen, and winked.

  He grinned back at her, replaying in his mind yet another stolen moment the two of them had created for themselves. It was what kept their love alive and their desire for each other ever strong. He still wanted her (and she him) just as much as when they had met more than ten years earlier. From headboard-battering sex within the confines of their one-bedroom apartment to stolen moments as members of the Mile High Club, they had no desire to be the perfect couple, but they were perfect . . . for each other. So, whenever work got to be too much and either of them forgot what it was all about, they brought the spice that they hoped would allow them to sizzle for years to come.

  “I love you,” she mouthed silently as she extracted a small piece of garbage from his hand.

  “I love you, too,” he mouthed back.

  Twins

  Jusme

  “I think you’ve lost your mind! I’m not wearing that—that damn nun’s uniform!”

  “It’s called a suit, and if you’re going to bible study, you have to at least look like a respectable woman.”

  “Uh, respectable woman? What are you saying? That my fine ass ain’t respectable? Hell, I demand respect every time I step out! But just because I don’t dress like a pastor’s wife—”

  “Hold up, Iesha. I’m no nun either. I just know how to dress to get a man worth having. I’m not one of those women who needs her breasts hanging halfway out of her blouse or her pants so tight she can’t breathe—unlike some of us.”

  Close couldn’t even describe the relationship between Iesha and me. Even though we were twins, we were complete opposites. I was the slightly taller, awkward one while she was so beautiful and confident. Her smooth, caramel complexion always brought her the male attention she desired, but somehow it didn’t work for me. Sometimes, I found myself a little jealous of my sister because of her appeal to men.

  We stood in my bedroom and I watched as she put on the black suit that I’d picked out for her, almost feeling guilty that I was covering up her perfect body. Iesha completed her ensemble by brushing her shoulder-length hair into a bun and downplaying her makeup, smoothing on clear lip gloss and ditching the spicy red, her usual color.

  “But, sis,” she pleaded, “don’t you want a man to at least think about what it would be like to spread you open and—”

  “Stop! Don’t say it.” I shuddered in disgust. “I can’t believe I’m having this conversation with you. I can’t believe I even agreed to this silly bet!”

  “As I was saying,” Iesha continued, practically ignoring me, “a man wants to at least imagine what it would be like to get the punany. He wants to smell its sweetness, love it . . .” She inhaled sharply and smiled. “Taste it.”

  “I’ll pass,” I said, folding my arms. “Better yet, I’ll wait.”

  “Look, I’m not saying that being all sanctified is bad, but damn, sis—you gotta eat.”

  “What on earth does sex have to do with eating?”

  “Picture this, Yana. You come home from a long, stressful day at work and yo’ man had the same kind of tiring day. He sees you and he fucks your brains out!” She sighed. “Steak and potatoes all night!”

  “Whatever!” I chuckled at her ridiculous analogy.

  “Okay, Miss High and Mighty. How long has it been since you’ve gotten laid? Better yet, when was the last time you let a man just touch the kitty?”

  “Well . . .” I thought back. “That was Solomon.”

  “So that was like what? Five, six years ago?”

  “Seven,” I blurted out. Damn, seven years already? “But I have a man. Someone who will never forsake me, cheat on me, or make me feel unworthy.”

  “Oh, hell naw, you’ve been holding out on me? You’ve been fucking somebody and you haven’t told me?”

  “Honey, I’m talking ’bout God. He will never cheat on me and it’s all good!”

  Iesha was sarcastic with her loud sigh. “I can’t believe I fell for that lame shit. After that outburst, I’m even happier we made this bet because if we didn’t, I’d have you committed. You’re thirty-nine, not seventy-nine.”

  “I’m not crazy, Iesha. The only reason I considered this bet is because I think once you discover who God is, you’ll be able to find some purpose. Maybe even close your legs and wait for a husband.”

  “Okay, Mother Teresa, don’t push it.” She puckered her lips. “That reminds me, the location changed for your date with James. He’s cooking you dinner at his house on General Drive. Remember, you agreed to one night with him in exchange for my month in sex rehab—I mean, the church house—so no funny business. God help yo’ ass if you don’t show up.”

  “I don’t know about all that, now. We didn’t agree to something that personal.”

  “You’re right, we didn’t, but he’s working on a special project at home and figured that it would be easier. Just try not to be you for one night, please!” She eyeballed my boot-cut blue jeans and red sweater. “Uh, you might want to get dressed because you need to be there in an hour. Your outfit is on the bed.”

  “Uh, no, those aren’t clothes. That’s hooker attire.”

  “Look, if I’m dressing like a damn missionary, you’re dressing in what I would wear on a date. So the red bustier, black skirt, and three-inch platforms are it for you, tonight.”

  I stared at the bed in disgust. “I don’t know. This is too much.”

  “Look, Iyana, I love you. You’re my sister, best friend, and confidante, but you need to know that all of your little friends at church ain’t who they pretend to be. Hell, half of those little choir members and ushers are in the club on Saturday night grinding to Jamie Foxx’s ‘15 Minutes,’ and deciding whose ass they gone ride home with.”

  She picked up my bible off the table and did a quick look through in the mirror. “Look at me,” she stated. “I’m off to bible study, at a church, and I’m do
ing this all for you, Yana. So enjoy yourself and relax. I promise it won’t be near as bad as you make it out to be. Take my car. There’s a small duffel bag in the passenger seat for tonight. Take it to James, but don’t open it. Text me and let me know when you get there.”

  I swallowed hard, unprepared for what my sister had planned for me. “Okay, I will.”

  “Oh, one final thing. I met James once about a month ago, but we’ve chatted a few times on the phone. He’s really a great guy, so have fun!” With that, she headed out the door.

  “Hey, wait a minute!” She was gone.

  It took me twenty minutes to get dressed in the outfit she’d set out. The skirt was too short and I almost fainted fastening the bustier. I looked at myself in the mirror one last time, pulling my shoulder-length hair back into a banana clip.

  I cannot let my neighbors see me like this. I grabbed the long faux fur coat that Iesha let me borrow last month.

  I walked slowly toward the car, tripping twice in such ridiculous shoes, hoping that no one was outside that I knew. Still, I couldn’t believe I was doing this—and to think, she’s only met this guy once. I thought she’d hooked me up with a prospect, not a stranger.

  Dear God, I just hope he’s cute . . . and not expecting to get any.

  • • •

  The GPS directions were perfect and as I neared the exit, my stomach started doing somersaults. Exiting, I decided to pull over and collect myself before turning onto his street. I parked the car in an empty lot.

  Where are her tissues, towels—something. I scoured quickly underneath the passenger-side seat and pulled out a silver flask.

  “Please, God, forgive me.” I took a swig of the vile-tasting substance, but it didn’t help.

  “Vodka!” I chuckled. I pulled down the driver’s-side mirror and patted away beads of sweat from my forehead.

  I pulled back onto the road when my purse started buzzing. “What the hell?”

  Turning onto General Drive, I stopped at the entrance of the gated community and checked my phone. Iesha had sent a text message.

  “Hey, sis. Hope you’re close. I txt James and said you were running late. Remember to have fun!”