I know I dipped on you guys in April but my mother took a turn for the worse and I went MIA for a few months. But I’m back and thought I’d continue with my Payback, Inc. story.
I’ve retooled the entire thing, but I won’t start from the beginning here. There may be some overlap but I hope that you’ll see how I’ve made Mo grittier and harder than before. You can read the entire prior chapters on my blog to get up to speed: http://blog.myspace.com/sydneymolare.
But here it is. And as always…send feedback!
After ushering Mrs. Brownings out, I placed the check on Stellae’s desk and waited. It wasn’t long.
“Mo. I see we’ve got another client that needs the works.” Her fingers worried the edges of the check.
“Yep.” I walked past her desk, headed to my office.
“Hey, Mo.” I stopped and turned already knowing where this convo was going. “What does she need…I mean, I know you guys haven’t asked and you don’t seem to need my input…but I think I could make the scenes really interesting. You know…unique.” Eyes pleaded for my approval.
Stellae saw herself as a budding actress. She thought what we did was lollipop-easy-does-it shit; that it would get her “street acting” credo. No where in that gelled head of hers did she have a clue as to what the real deal was. For good reason.
“Did I tell you I had written a play?” She knew good and well she’d told me and had even given me a copy. I nodded my affirmation. “Well the truth is, I really want to direct, not just act. I think that I’m a much better director than actor, anyway.” She bobbed her head, convincing herself. “I’m saying that I think you’re not using all the talent you have available to you. I’m good and I know you’ll like what I come up with.” Hope was written all over her face.
I’d heard this before. She wasn’t ready for the real deal. It’s easy to fantasize about what we do in the field, it’s another thing, totally, to be in the action mix. Shit, we’re afraid when things go differently than planned. Men don’t take well to being messed over by women, especially when it’s done in the name of the wife. If we messed up…we could very well be finished.
My body hit subzero in a flash. A sense of déjà vu pushed at my skull. The memory close but…elusive. I rubbed my arms absently before shaking my head. “No, Stellae. You’re not ready,” I replied firmly.
“I can get ready. Just give me a chance to prove myself. That’s all.” Face still hopeful.
No need in prolonging the hurt. “Maybe later after much training and classes. I can’t risk you right now.”
She slumped back in the seat. “I see.”
Chick didn’t but I wasn’t putting her at risk at this stage of the game. Twenty years old…barely off her mama’s tit. A bullet or an out of control mark could put her in a wheelchair for life or worse…carried out the church doors by six. Without another word, I left the lobby and entered my office.
As I watch my java drip, Schi entered and closed the door quietly behind her. “I heard.”
“Yeah. She been asking you about this?”
“Not straight out. Just hints.” Schi sat in the chenille-covered chair in front of my desk. Leaning back, she pulled a long, dark cigarette from her pocket. A stinky Cuban. She lit the end and drew in a long breath. “Do you think we should replace her? I don’t want her to start looking through the open files, deciding to help us without us knowing it.”
Something to consider. Normally, when we finish a case, the file was shipped out to a security controlled storage facility for one year. After that they were automatically shredded. Nothing was kept on the premises. This way, if we had a break-in, no one learned secrets they shouldn’t.
It also kept our butts out of a sling. Yes, we do everything in a legal manner but we do tap-dance on the edge of breaking the law in some situations. Enough so an irate husband could drum up some trouble. Next thing you know here comes the city’s finest snooping then a search warrant.
We weren’t looking for that at all. If we’re not anonymous and discreet, we’re finished.
“I think things are cool right now. I’ll keep a closer eye on her and double-check the locks on the file cabinets daily.” I took a sip of coffee. “Ready to get down to business?”
“Uh huh.” Schi inhaled a lung full of toxins. “I need to make a run across town.” A smile lurked in the corners of her mouth.
I already knew the deal. That cat slick grin was always there when sex was on her brain and it was always on her brain.
“This a booty call?”
She blew out a plume of smoke. “And you know this. Just a quick pick-me-up before we get started on the day.”
“Why couldn’t y’all do that last night?”
I shook my head at her antics. My smile slowly left my face as Jontel popped into my head. Shit.
Schi saw the change in my expression. “I know what you’re thinking, girl, but stop it now. You know, your condition isn’t a death sentence. If you’re up front with a guy and practice safe sex—”
“I know, Schi.” I had cut her off midsentence. “I’m just not ready to…to…expose myself yet.”
Every few months Schi decided I needed her to barge in, make comments on how I lived. That Mother Hen shit might work on the clients but I was sick of it.
“When are you going to be ready? When you’re sixty? When you’re sitting in a wheelchair?
When?” Schi stood and leaned over the desk.
Schi was definitely pushing the limits our friendship. Yeah she’s just talking but my mind is telling me to slap the shit out of her so she’ll mind her own business.
“You’re not the only one with this problem. Other folks get out there and live with it everyday. They enjoy themselves. I can’t stand how you just let life pass you by. Do you think I’d let it stop me?”
“Probably not. But it ain’t a problem you’ve got…yet, so it’s not the same, is it?”
“Maybe so. Maybe not. I just wish you’d try to do more than work these cases and go home and play with Millionaire and Billionaire,” she said, referring to my two Schnauzers. “That ain’t living.” Schi stubbed her cigarette out in an ashtray on the corner of my desk before standing.
“I know,” I replied quietly. “That ain’t living, it’s existing. And right now, I don’t know how to do anything else.”
Did she really believe I wanted to isolate myself? That I wanted no other human contact than the folks in this office and the clients? Well, hello? I wanted to be loved, touched, stroked just like the next woman. Shit, emotional vacuum gets old quick. But without any good alternatives, that’s where I am.
“All I know is I can’t take rejection at this point in my life or maybe never.”
“You might be surprised how many men won’t reject you. I don’t know what to tell you. If it were me, I’d read up on the new advances with this disease and figure out what I had to do to protect my partner.” Schi scratched at her head. “Hey. You know I read about an Internet service that’s for people—”
I shook my head. I didn’t want to believe I had it, much less entertain the thought of sex with someone else who had it. If I wanted that, I could have stayed with Jontel.
“It was just a suggestion. Don’t rule it out.” She looked at her watch. “Hey, I’m out of here. I’ll be back in an hour or so. After I get back, I’ll work through lunch. So if you have pulled the preliminary stuff, we can map out the ‘big show’ for Mr. Bill.” Schi laughed.
“And a big show it will be,” I confirmed, waving her out. “Have a good time for me too, will you?”
“Now, if I’ve got to get yours and mine, I might have to take the rest of the day off.”
“On second thought, just have a good time for yourself. You need to get your butt on back here as soon as feasible.”
“Feasible is in the pants of the beholder. Adios.” She winked as she walked out of the door.
I watched go, wanting to trade places, to reverse time. But time waits and reverses for no one.
Somehow, I managed to refocus my attention on our “festivities” for tonight. I pulled the phone to me and dialed up Mrs. Hatcher.
Schi stretched across the across the couch wearing only her thongs, awaiting her lover. She knew she was playing a dangerous game but her uninhibited soul wouldn’t allow her to only stare at the flame. She had to see if it truly burned.
She pulled out a cigarette, flicked her lighter. As the smoke curled to the ceiling, she relaxed further into the couch.
“Put it out,” a gruff voice said behind her.
Schi smiled and inhaled deeply, blew a plume from between her glistening lips. “Make me.” Her juices collected between her lips. She’d known he was already in the house. But she loved it rough and smoking a cigarette pissed him off royally.
Hands twisted in her hair, pulled her head backwards until brown eyes met black. “Put it out and I’ll go easy on you.”
Schi took another drag, held the cigarette out of reach in response, before blowing the smoke into the dark face.
Judge Gregory Molhon.
Mo would shit a brick if she could see her now.
Judge Molhon had been an unwitting participant in a Payback scenario. His wife, Judy, had requested they ‘get the goods on the low-down motherfucker’ eight months ago and they had. A pretty redhead, a little superglue and Judge Molhon had been left holding his dick. Literally. Mrs. Molhon had gotten a tidy divorce settlement as a result.
But Schi had wanted, oh how she’d wanted to ride his fat, black love pole with its red crown before doing the deed. It was the first time she’d wanted to deviate; switch up the pre-planned script for her own sexual satisfaction. She’d stayed the course and three months ago, Fate had intervened and they’d bumped into each other. The judge still didn’t have a clue they’d met before. After all, she had been a redhead with green contacts and bronzing cream slathered from head to toe. No resemblance to her natural state at all. She planned to keep him in the dark, too.
Thick lips parted into a smile/sneer. “Oh, you want to play bad bitch today, huh?”
The hand twisted her strands further, tearing at her scalp, making her arch over the couch. Schi feinted at his wrist with the cigarette. The judge grabbed the hand before the cigarette made contact, rolling Schi onto her stomach and pulling her all the way over the couch and upright.
“You know what happens to little girls who want to act like bad ass bitches, right?”
Schi seriously thought about kicking him in the groin, flipping him in a classic Judo move, but thought better. The average female didn’t disarm a man; leave him staring up at her from the floor. No need to open up a line of questions when all she was after was a thorough fucking. Instead, she whimpered, scrunched up her face as if in pain.
“Oh, you’re worried now?” The judge leveled his eyes with hers. Schi nodded before she let her eyes float to the floor. She’d play along; let him have his fun this time. “That’s better…but you still have to be punished.”
The cigarette was plucked from her fingers and dropped into the aquarium. He led her to a chair. Schi turned to sit and he stopped her.
“I sit; you stand.”
Schi remained still as the judge seated himself. He turned Schi sideways. Hands skimmed over her hips before they cupped the cheeks. The thong was grasped and pulled taut. The string dug into her flesh, but it was all pleasure-pain as far as Schi was concerned. Her clit jumped as he pulled the material even tighter.
Schi stood unmoved as his palm met her buttocks over and over. In her opinion, if you’re gonna spank ass, spank ass! After a few more less than numbing smacks, she turned to meet the judge’s eyes. “That all you got?” she baited.
His nostrils flared, a vessel pulsed in his temple. He released her suddenly; stood and pulled his clothes from his body. Schi couldn’t take her eyes off the cock rising and falling rhythmically beside her. She wanted to drop to her knees, slam her lips around the dripping rod, suck him deep into her throat, make him cum in seconds. But this was his show so she restrained herself.
“Bend over the chair.” A command.
Schi saw his hands twitch as she rested her palms on the seat. She resisted the smile trying to push itself onto her lips. She’d challenged his skills, so she knew he’d give it his all, just like she liked it.
Take it to the head or take your ass home!
Schi watched between her legs as the judge spat into his palms and rubbed them together. One hand rested in the dip of her back before the other swung halfway to the ceiling, returned with the force of a tsunami. Schi was lifted off the floor. She grunted but remained in position. The pain in her buttocks transformed into delicious pleasure by the time it reached her clit. Her pussy was slippery; juice crawled down her leg.
The judge put his back into it; wailed away at her thick hips. Sweat coated his chest and arms, began trailing down his forehead. He smiled as the cheeks reddened but he didn’t stop. His hand throbbed, his cock leaked precum; dripped the viscous fluid onto the carpet unchecked.
Schi upped the ante; thrust her ass into the air meeting him smack for smack.
He unhinged. Slid his hand between her thighs, collected the hot honey and smeared it over her high hole. Schi undulated now; wanted to feel dick inside of her. The judge obliged. He pulled on a condom and smeared more of her pussy juice on the outside. He pushed past her sphincter, planned to ram her, teach her a lesson.
But Schi was no novice to rough trade. Just as he’d slide in as deep as she could stand, she clamped down around his iron cock, vising him with her sphincter. The judge stiffened; unable to move beneath the assault. Schi squeezed tighter. The breath stilled in his chest, black dots danced in front of his eyes as his traitorous balls tightened and gism surged upward before he slumped to the floor.
Schi unbent from the chair, stretched and flexed slowly. She stared at the judge, lips quirked at his loud snores. Baby. It had been a good appetizer but not the whole enchilada by any means.
She nudged his chin with her freshly manicured big toe. It took a moment, but the judge finally half-squinted at her with one barely focused eye.
She gave him her business smile. “Cute warmup” –the smile dropped from her face—“but Mama is still hungry.”
A foot was placed on either side of his head…and she dipped slowly down to cover his face.