Killing Them Softly
An Erotic Tale of Murder
Roy Glenn
Published by Escapism Entertainment at Smashwords
Copyright © 2010 by Roy Glenn
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without prior consent of the publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Any references or similarities to actual events, real people, living or dead, or to real locals are intended to give the novel a sense of reality. Any similarity in other names, characters, places, and incidents is entirely coincidental.
Chapter One
Devin
I rolled over in bed and watched my wife Taye get up and go in the bathroom. No matter how many times it happened, or how I tried to condition myself to it, the result was always the same: the sex we had was uninspiring. But it hadn’t always been like that.
In the three years that Taye and I have been married, we’ve gone through a lot. We met on the subway during rush hour. I would see her every morning getting on the train, and I watched and admired her for months, before I got up the courage to speak to her. To me, Taye was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen.
One Monday morning, I decided that I would talk to her, so I positioned myself in front of the door, reading the newspaper. When the door opened, the first thing Taye saw was me.
“Good morning,” and a friendly smile, was all I offered up that first day, before I buried my head back in the paper.
Taye barely acknowledged my presence. She made eye contact, but quickly looked away without saying anything. Men always tried to talk to her on the train. I sat and watched her turn away man after man who tried to push up on her. To her, I was probably just another faceless and nameless man on the train.
On the second day, I posted up in the same spot, and when the door opened and Taye got on, I said, “Good morning.” But this time I added, “How are you today?” And then I went right back to the paper. Once again, Taye didn’t respond, but I could tell that this time she noticed me.
I stood there and feigned reading the paper, but Taye, as she did every day, had my undivided attention. I stood there, watching her reading her book—a novel called Commit to Violence. I checked out the look on her face as she read. It was like she was totally enthralled in whatever she was reading.
When Taye got on the train on the third day, I said, “Good morning. How are you?” Like I did the day before, but this time, I had to do a double take. “You look very nice today,” I added at the sight of Taye in her black skirted suit.
“Thank you,” Taye said, as she passed and moved to a spot to stand.
Instead of her usual ponytail, Taye let her hair hang down to her shoulders. We exchanged glances and smiles for the duration of the ride together that morning. And by the end of week, we had introduced ourselves.
Our relationship developed as a friendship at first; kind of an old-fashioned courtship. It was filled with long walks and picnic lunches in the park. We’d spend hours on the phone at night having long telephone conversations about everything, and nothing in particular. After a few weeks, we began meeting after work for drinks at first, and then dinner. Dinner turned into dinner and a movie. Dinner and a movie turned into dinner, a movie, and dancing.
“How did I get so lucky?” I asked her one night after we left the club.
“What do you mean?” Taye said, as we walked back to my car.
I stopped and turned to her. “How did I get so lucky to find you?”
“I guess you lived a good life.” Taye smiled. “You’re not like any other man I’ve met lately. You’re a gentleman, and you took the time to get to know me. You made me feel like it was important to you; like I was important to you.”
We stood there for a while; you know, having that moment. Looking into each other’s eyes; feelin’ that strong vibe. “No,” I said, “that’s not what I wanna ask you.”
Taye took a step closer and smiled. Close enough to kiss. “Well, just what do you wanna ask me?”
It made me a little nervous to be so close to her. I held it together, but it wasn’t easy. “Taye, you’re an intelligent woman. You’re funny, and you are so beautiful. How come you don’t have a man?” My father told me once, when you meet a pretty woman and she doesn’t have a man, find out why.
“Because he was a moron who didn’t recognize much less appreciate what a good woman he had,” Taye said.
“So do you think it would be all right if I kissed you?”
“I don’t think I’d slap you, but we’ll just have to see.”
I took Taye into my arms and kissed her gently. She put her arms around my neck, and I allowed myself to get caught up it the moment.
That first kiss, the one I’d been thinking about since the first time I saw her, was every-thing that I imagined it would be. Taye kissed me like it had been a while since she’d kissed a man, and even longer since she’d kissed a man she actually liked. Taye told me later that during the last year of her relationship with the moron, any type of intimacy was more like an obligation than a pleasure shared, when two are in love. It was a task to be performed and nothing more.
That first kiss between us was tender and filled with passion. I really couldn’t say how long we stood by the car kissing, but it was a long time.
When we finally separated from each other’s arms, we both just kind of stood there in complete silence, staring at each other until Taye finally said, “Wow.”
“Yeah,” was all I could manage before unlocking her door.
As we drove to Taye’s apartment, no words were spoken. There were none needed. The sexual tension in that car was strong. We held hands and exchanged glances during the ride. Each time I had to stop for a red light, I would lean over and kiss Taye; allow my hands to roam over her body. Not wanting to seem overexcited by what I thought was about to happen, I really had to fight the urge to drive faster.
Once we got to Taye’s apartment, she invited me in. “Can I get you something to drink?” Taye asked.
“Whatever you have is fine.” And with that she disappeared.
I sat patiently on the couch until Taye reappear with a bottle of champagne in one hand and two glasses in the other. Taye filled my glass and handed it to me.
“Thank you,” I said.
She smiled and poured herself glass. She raised the glass, and we both drained our glasses. Then I reached for her, touched her face and kissed her.
She picked up the bottle, took me by the hand, and led me into the bedroom. She turned on some light jazz and lit two candles, before sitting down next to me on the bed.
I looked at her and touched her face. “Taye, you are so beautiful.”
I kissed her again and felt the warmth coming from her hands against my body. Taye pushed me down on the bed. I laid there on my back, enjoying the taste of her tongue darting playfully in and out of my month. The kissing continued, and we explored each other’s bodies with our hands. Taye sat up and began to loosen my tie. “Let me help you with that,” I offered.
“No,” she whispered softly and moved my hands. Taye took off my tie, unbuttoned my shirt, and methodically ran her hands over my chest. The feeling made my whole body quiver.
Taye turned me the fuck on.
I watched as tongue moved softly across my chest, lingering at m nipples. It sent chills through me.
Taye stood up and unzipped her dress, allowing it to fall to the floor before returning to the bed.
She lay next to me, dressed only in her bra and thong, and I enjoyed the warmth of her body against my skin. I ran my hands over every inch of her body. Now it was Taye’s turn to quiver under my touch. I sat up and took off my shirt, without breaking eye contact with Taye.
I lay next to Taye and kissed her shoulder. I peeled the strap of her bra off of her shoulder, and ran my tongue down her arm. Taye rolled on her side, and I quickly unhooked her bra with one hand, while the other roamed freely across her flesh.
As Taye uncovered her breasts, I continued to feast on her skin with my tongue and hands, until I reached her feet. Damn. She even had pretty feet.
I took Taye’s right foot in my hands, and began to massage the sole of her foot. I couldn’t help but notice the glazed-over look in Taye’s eyes, as I carefully and meticulously massaged her foot, before raising it to my lips. With her eyes wide open, and squirming be-cause she’s just a bit ticklish, Taye watched me suck and tongue each of her toes, and massage her calf. After a while, Taye could take no more. She grabbed me by the hand and pulled me to her. She unbuckled and took off my pants.
I stood before her naked and hard. Taye reached out and touched it, ran her hand across the length of it. “Thank you,” she seemed to be saying at its size. “I hope you know how to use it,” she said in a whisper.
I crawled onto the bed next to Taye, and our lips met again. Only this time, it was like we were on fire as our tongues darted feverishly in and out of each other’s mouths. The shit was fucking intense.
Taye lay in my arms kissing me passionately, and stroking my erection. I closed my eyes and got lost in the sensation of her hands, and then the sensation of her lips—soft and wet—against my chest. Taye kissed and tongued her way down to my now throbbing hard-ness.
When she straddled my face and I inhaled her scent, my lips and tongue were engaged with her lips and clit, slowly tonguing her lips and sucking lightly on her clit. With my eyes closed, relying only on my senses of touch and smell, each seemed heightened. I felt Taye move, and the sensation of my sucking her lips gave way to the feeling of her soft wetness, slowly sliding up and down on my erection.
Taye moved her body slowly up and down, and then in circles. She reached for the bottle of lotion on the nightstand and poured it across my chest. She began to rub it in with her fingertips. Once she had covered my chest, she leaned forward and kissed me. She moved from side to side, rubbing her nipples across my chest in rhythm with the music.
I gotta be honest. The sensation I felt when her nipples rubbed against mine was indescribable. I grabbed her ass and ran my hands up and down her back, and across her cheeks. Taye started to move her hips faster; then she sat up and went to work. After a while, she stopped and moved her legs so her feet were on the bed.
I pushed harder, and I felt Taye’s body begin to shake. Her eyes opened wide. She grabbed my shoulders and dug her nails in. Her mouth opened and she screamed, “You’re gonna make me come!” then collapsed on my chest.
For the next half-hour or so, I held Taye close to my chest while she caught herself. As we lay in each other’s arms, we talked about how off-the-chain the love we had just made was, and marveled over the anticipation of what was to come between us.
We were married the following year in a small, but intimate ceremony, and Taye was pregnant six months after that. During the first weeks of her pregnancy, she felt fine. Her appetite was good, and she got enough sleep. It was about the eighth week of her pregnancy when she started having cramps, and her stomach would have spasms.
When she consulted with her gynecologist, she was told that maybe she should change her diet. Something she may be eating wasn’t agreeing with her. So, that’s what Taye did. She started to eat more fruits and vegetables, and drinking more water. But the cramps didn’t subside. In fact, they got worse. Just after her first trimester, she miscarried.
“I’m thinking that you’re either stressed out, or just doing too much at work. I would think about taking some time off and relaxing. Working all day may not be good for you right now,” the doctor said to her.
“Does this mean that I can’t have any children?” she asked.
“Not at all. You’re perfectly healthy, otherwise. Give your body a rest for about twelve weeks, and you and your husband can start on your family again.” I took her hand and kissed it while she cried.
After Taye had gone for a checkup, three months later, and everything looked fine, we tried again. She made it through the first trimester. Taye was feeling great. She had taken a leave of absence from work, and was doing what the doctor ordered— getting lots of rest.
Six months into her pregnancy, Taye began to feel tightness in her stomach. It was like something was pulling it down, she told me. While we were lying in bed one night, she felt wetness between her legs. “Taye, you’re bleeding!” I yelled.
Taye panicked, while I called 9-1-1. The ambulance was there in a matter of minutes and transported her to the hospital, but it was too late. The baby was stillborn.
After we lost the baby, Taye had gone into an extremely depressed state. All my attempts to talk to her about losing the baby, or anything for that matter, were met with complete silence, and the most distant stare. Our doctor told us that Taye was going through postpartum depression.
“Postpartum depression is a serious illness that generally occurs in the first few months after childbirth. It can also happen after miscarriage and stillbirth. Taye has all the symptoms: sadness, fatigue, insomnia, appetite changes, reduced libido, crying episodes, anxiety, and irritability, as she grapples with this devastating experience.”
“Can you give her something for it?” I asked.
“I can prescribe an antidepressant for her, which in most cases, effectively relieves symptoms of postpartum depression for most women. However, I strongly recommend that you seek counseling for both you and Taye. A form of counseling called Cognitive-Behavioral Therapy has proved to be as effective as antidepressant medicine for postpartum depression.”
But Taye wasn’t interested in taking any antidepressant or counseling. “I’m not crazy,” she said when the doctor suggested it. She did allow him to prescribe some sleeping pills to help with the insomnia.
After a while, Taye basically stopped speaking to me unless she had to. For months, she was cold, direct, and very much to the point. When she did speak, it was only because it was absolutely unavoidable. And sex . . ., well, nights that were once filled with great sexual experiences shared by two people who were desperately in love with each other, were now a distant memory. I kept trying—begging really. The times Taye did break down and open her legs, was just pity pussy.
“All right, all ready. Just come on and get it,” she’d say.
No romance, no foreplay, just come on and get it. Then, she’d rush me—and I hated to be rushed. I had always been the type of lover that liked to take my time, savor each and every second of the pleasure. But now, it was hit it and quit.
“And I’m tired of that shit,” I yelled at her one night after another round of unsatisfying sex. After that, Taye engrossed herself into her work, and dismissed any and all intimacy with me.
Finally, after months of me talking it up, Taye went to see a psychoanalyst so she could begin to work through her issues. The doctor told me that Taye’s condition wasn’t simply postpartum depression. She was suffering with a bipolar disorder. “The cause of bipolar disorder is not entirely known. Genetic, neurochemical, and environmental factors probably interact at many levels to play a role in the onset and progression of bipolar disorder,” Dr. Larrieux told me at our first meeting. “The current thinking is that this is a predominantly biological disorder that occurs in a specific part of the brain, and is due to a malfunction of the neurotransmitters.”
“And this happened because she lost a baby?”
“A biological disorder of this type may lie dormant and be activated spontaneously, or it may be triggered by stressors in life. A life event may trigger a mood episode in a person with a genetic disposition for bipolar disorder. Although no one is quite sure about the ex-act cause, bipolar disorders tend to be familial; meaning that it runs in families. About half the people with bipolar disorder have a family member with a mood disorder, such as depression. Your wife did mention that she had an aunt that suffered from depression.”
This time, Taye agreed to the treatment option. But she didn’t like the way the medication made her feel, so she stopped taking it. The sessions with Dr. Larrieux proved to be helpful. In time, Taye became a bit more interactive, and generally seemed a lot happier with herself, and our marriage, and she began to come to grips with the death of our second child. However, that generally happier feeling had no positive effect on our sex life.
Still, I was very happy when Taye came home and told me that Dr. Larrieux suggested she take some time off from work, and that we go away together.
“Some place romantic, is what she said, but I don’t know about all that,” Taye said to me that day.
“Why not?” I asked excitedly. I thought it was about time she suggested something constructive. “Considering what we pay her,” I started to say, but thought better of it. “I think that’s a great idea. I’ll even do the research for it.”
A day later, I came home with pamphlets of Puerto Rico.
“Puerto Rico?” Taye asked. “I’ve never been to Puerto Rico.”
“Then let’s go.” I got down on my knees and pleaded. “Let’s do something spontaneous. Something we’ll both remember for the rest of our lives together.”
“All right, I guess,” she unenthusiastically responded.
So it was set. Taye and I were going to San Juan, Puerto Rico, to have fun together in the sun.
I hoped.
Chapter Two
Avonte
When I walked out of the airport in San Juan, Puerto Rico, I immediately had to dig in my purse for my sunglasses. During the four-hour flight from New York, I had three vodka and orange juices, and the San Juan sun was too much for me. I had come to San Juan to make some decisions about how the rest of my life was going to go. Since I was making life decisions, really heavy stuff, and since the temperature in New York was in the single digits, I decided that I wanted to be some place with sun.
The cab driver, a real cutie that spoke very little English, took me to the San Juan Marriott Resort and Stellaris Casino. After I checked in, I arranged with the concierge to have my luggage taken to my room, while I went down to the La Isla Grill and Pool Bar, and ordered another drink. “Kettle One and orange juice; and let me see a menu,” I told my bar-tender as soon as he dropped the napkin in front of me. I’d been drinking cheap vodka on the plane, and my stomach was paying the price.
The bartender placed my drink and a menu in front of me. Then he promised to re-member me, and have a drink ready for me next time I did my drinking poolside. I assured him that by the time I left, we would be the best of friends. My plan was to spend a lot of time drinking. Liquor has a way of focusing, or I should say intensifying, whatever it was I was thinking about. I wasn’t planning on getting drunk, but I truly planned on staying fucked up.
The bartender, whose name was Manuel, and I chatted while I looked over the menu. Once I told him what I wanted to eat, he left me to do my drinking in peace. I gazed aimlessly at the pool, looking at what appeared to be nothing but couples having fun. Not that I was there to try and get with somebody, but damn, if I wanted to, it would have to be with one of the locals. And that wasn’t happening. Then I saw this fine-ass brother walking by the pool. Now, I could get with him, but he was with somebody. I turned around on my stool and looked at the beach. The view was breathtaking. I had chosen wisely. I just had to get out of New York for a while, and away from my husband Tyrone.
Tyrone and I met my freshmen year at Syracuse. He was a career student, and at that time, he was working on his second masters. His first was in economics, the second one was in finance. It was my second day on campus, and I was trying to get adjusted to life out of my parent’s house. We met in line at the cafeteria. He was in line behind me. I was about to reach for something, I don’t remember what, but he stopped me. “You don’t wanna eat that,” Tyrone said.
“Why not?” I asked, and put it on my tray anyway, wondering who this man was, and why he was trying to tell me what I should eat. But it was my second day, and I thought it was inappropriate for the around-the-way-girl from the Bronx to come out.
“I can see that you’re new here,” he said.
“Sure am.”
He leaned close to me and whispered, “The food here is terrible. I never eat here,” Tyrone said, and I noticed that he didn’t have a tray. “You should let me take you to lunch.”
I thanked him very much for the invitation, but told him that I would have to take a rain check. After all, I didn’t know him from a can of paint, and I was not about to go anywhere with him.
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah,” I said, and paid for my food.
“Well, my name is Tyrone Petrocelli.”
“Avonte Braxton.”
“It’s good to met you, Avonte. That’s a very pretty name for a very pretty lady.”
“Thank you,” I said graciously, and kept it moving, hoping that he wouldn’t become a pest, and I’d have to call security.
“I’m sure I’ll see you around,” Tyrone said. Then he saw some guys he knew and went off with them.
After that, I saw Tyrone around campus from time to time. Anytime he saw me he’d come over and speak. We’d chat about how classes were going for me, and he’d invite me out to eat with him. I would always decline his invitation with some excuse about classes, or the need for more time in the library to study— which was true. Less party, more study. It’s not that he wasn’t a nice guy or that I was dating anybody else. I just never dated a white guy before. And it wasn’t because he wasn’t fine as hell for a white boy. He looked kind of like Brad Pitt.
By sophomore year, Tyrone had worn me down, and I agreed to go out to dinner with him. When he picked me up at my dorm in a white Lamborghini Diablo convertible, I thought I would faint. Over dinner and drinks, Tyrone told me that his father was in the shipping business, which he, at the time, thought was the most boring thing in the world—something he had no interest in whatsoever.
I had fun with Tyrone that night. Those years I always did. We went out a few more times before I finally agreed to come to his apartment for late-night cocktails. I knew what that meant and I was ready. Truth be told, that night, I was more than ready.
It didn’t take long after we got there for things to start happening. As soon as the door closed, we were all over each other. Tyrone turned me around and began kissing the back of my neck, and squeezing my breasts. Then he lifted my dress and leaned me over the table. Tyrone quickly took off my panties and entered me. It took some wiggling on my part, but soon he was deep inside me, moving his hips. I rocked my hips until I had him where he could hit my spot right. Tyrone squeezed my breasts as he moved in and out of me. I closed my eyes because it was feeling so damn good. I looked over my shoulder at Tyrone taking off his shirt, all the while pounding away.
Then, Tyrone abruptly pulled out of me. When I turned to face him, he took me in his arms, kissed me, and then he picked me up. I wrapped my legs around his waist and held on tightly. He kissed me again, and we stumbled into the wall as he tried to carry me into the bedroom. He pinned me against the wall, and kissed and sucked my neck and breasts.
My fingers dug into his back when he pushed himself inside me again. We were going at it so hard that after a while, both of struggled to breathe. Tyrone took me in the bedroom. I unzipped my skirt, and it fell to the floor. My stiffened nipples were popping out of my lace semi-cup. I stepped out of my dress and joined him in the bed.
I lay there next to him, not believing how hung he was. Every time he sexed me, I had to fight the overwhelming urge to explode as soon as he entered me. And when I couldn’t, Tyrone would drop between my thighs and try to sop every drop of my juices.
I knelt down on the bed because I love being taken from behind. Tyrone grabbed my hips again, and trusted himself deep inside me, finding my spot once more. My mouth dropped open, my eyes bucked, and I let go a gut-wrenching scream. When my body trembled from the pleasure, I knew he felt my warmth overflowing. I was in ecstasy.
We dated for the remainder of the year, until he received his masters in finance. He left Syracuse, and reluctantly, went to work for his father. We stayed in touch and would visit each other during my junior year. That was the year his father died, and suddenly, he was the chairman of the board. As you could imagine, I didn’t see Tyrone much after that, but when we did, the sex was great. We still talked almost daily. He would tell me how much he hated running the company, and about how cut- throat it was in corporate America.
The day that I graduated, Tyrone was there, and I introduced him as a good friend to my parents. I didn’t think my father needed to know that I’d been dating a white boy for the last three years. My father shook hands with Tyrone.
“Congratulations,” he said to him, thinking that he, too, had just graduated.
“Thank you, sir,” Tyrone said.
“What is your degree in?”
Tyrone smiled. “I have a master’s in economics, and another in finance, but I graduated last year. I’m in the shipping business now, sir.”
“What do you do in shipping?” my mother asked Tyrone.
“I’m the chairman of the board, actually.”
“Oh” was all my mother could say.
“Did you say you were the chairman of the board?”
“Yes sir. I lost my father recently, and I had to step in and run the company.”
“Which he hates,” I threw in.
“Actually, Avonte, I’m starting to get into it,” Tyrone said, and put his arm around me and I almost fainted; but it was about to get deeper than that very soon.
“Well, thank you for coming out to see our girl walk,” my father said. “If you are looking for a English major with a lot of drive and initiative, that’s your girl.”
“I know that, sir. I’m sure that Avonte will make an excellent addition to anybody’s staff. But I was hoping that she would be interested in accepting a different position.”
“What position is that?” I wanted to know.
We had talked many times over the years about what I wanted to do when I graduated, but he never mentioned anything about a job at his company. Since we really weren’t seeing each other on a regular basis, I had naturally assumed that he had moved on to somebody new, and I was just an occasional convenience. So I was surprised that he even showed up. And now he was about to offer me a job. Making big money, I hoped.
Tyrone looked at me, and then at my parents, before turning back to me. “I want to marry you, Avonte. Would you be my wife?”
So there my parents were, two simple black folks from the Bronx, and this rich white man just asked if he could marry their daughter. Needless to say, they were in shock, and so was I. I truly didn’t see that coming.
I stood there speechless, truly not believing the words that came out of Tyrone’s mouth. My father looked at me. “Avonte!”
“Huh?”
“Ain’t you gonna answer the man?” my mother asked.
“Would y’all excuse us for a minute? I need to talk to Tyrone,” I said, grabbing Tyrone by the hand and leading him anyway from my parents.
“Did you just ask me to marry you?”
“Yes Avonte. I love you, and I want to marry you. Do you want me to get down on one knee?” And then he actually started to do it.
I grabbed him before he got down there. “No.”
He reached in his pocket, took out a ring box and handed it to me. I excitedly opened the box to reveal a platinum engagement ring with the biggest diamond I’d ever seen. He took the box from me and took the ring out of the box. He took my left hand and eased the ring on my finger. “What do you say, Avonte? Will you marry me?”
There was no way I was taking that ring off my finger, nor was I going to refuse to marry a millionaire. “Of course I will. I mean, the ring fits and all,” I said, and held out my hand.
“Right; and it looks so good on your beautiful hand,” Tyrone said, and kissed it.
That was five years ago, and during that time, we had what I considered, a very happy marriage. One filled with great sex, travel around the world, and of course, there was the money. Lots and lots of money; and I loved having money.
But all that changed about six months ago. Tyrone started spending more time at work and less time with me. “We are right in the middle of a major acquisition—one that will make us a much stronger company. I know you’re not happy about this, but once it’s a done deal, I promise to make it up to you, darling.” He was right. I wasn’t happy about it, but I had no choice but to except it.
I rolled along, finding new things to occupy my time. I even volunteered for this charity and that charity, but then Tyrone came home one day and said we needed to talk. I joined him in the living room, and sat down of the couch. Tyrone chose to stand.
“What do you want to talk about?” I asked.
“I want a divorce.”
Just like that.
“What? What did you just say?” I asked, as the tears began to well in the corners of my eyes.
“I want a divorce.”
Then Tyrone had the nerve to tell me that he had met somebody, and that he was in love with her. “Well, I didn’t just meet her. She’s an executive with the company we just acquired. We’ve been working very closely on the deal, and it just happened.”
I couldn’t believe my ears.
“I know this is sudden, and I’m sorry,” Tyrone said, and walked away.
“That’s it?” I yelled through my tears. “You waltz in here and tell me that you met some-body and you want a divorce. What about me? What about how I feel?”
“If it’s money you’re worried about, you know you’ll be taken care of. You’ll never have to worry about that,” Tyrone said coldly, and left the house.
Before we got married, Tyrone asked me to sign a prenuptial agreement, and I agreed, but that wasn’t the point. I loved and needed Tyrone, not his money.
I ran to the door behind him. I wanted to stop him—try to talk him out of it. Even though I didn’t love him when we got married. I thought maybe it was for the money, but over the years, I had come to love and depend on him. I opened the door just in time to see him pulling out of the driveway, with some blonde in what was my spot.
I slammed the door and ran upstairs. I threw myself across the bed and cried until I had no more tears. Once I had cried myself out, I fell asleep, praying that when I woke up, it would be morning, and this would have all been a bad dream. But when I woke, Tyrone wasn’t lying next to me, and I knew it was all too real.
I spent the better part of the day crying and drinking. That day, I wanted to get drunk. I didn’t want to feel a thing. But after a while, when the bottle was empty, I began thinking about what I was gonna do. I didn’t really read the prenup before I signed it—a foolish move on my part. But when Tyrone said that he loved me, and would never even think about leaving me, I signed the paper.
It was then that I decided I needed to get away for a while. So I called my travel agent and booked my trip. The rest of my life began that morning, and I was going to have to begin living it.
Chapter Three
Devin
When the Captain made the call to board the ship, I got my gear and followed the other men onto the ship for a day of deep-sea fishing.
As the ship headed out to sea, I took a moment to marvel at the fact that things had played out exactly the way I hoped they wouldn’t. As soon as we got to the hotel and checked into our room, Taye started trippin’.
The bellman opened the door, brought in our bags, and put them down. “Will there be anything else?”
“No, everything is fine,” I said, and handed the guy a tip.
Taye stood in the doorway. “This is totally unacceptable,” she said, looking at the queen-sized bed.
“What’s wrong, baby?”
“The bed. I requested a king-sized bed.”
The bellman apologized and left the room promising to do what he could to rectify the situation. After thirty minutes, I wished that I had left the room with him. Taye spent all of that time complaining about everything: from the size of the room to the color of the drapes; from the view from the balcony to the fact that we hadn’t seen any other black people since we got off the plane. “And what the hell is taking them so long to find an-other room,” she fussed. She immediately picked up the phone and started blasting the front desk clerk.
As for me, I sat quietly in a chair by the sliding glass door to the balcony. I thought the view, which overlooked the pool, was excellent. And I enjoyed watching all of the well-tanned female bodies lounging by the pool.
Before I left New York, I had resolved myself not to buy into Taye’s mood swings, and to have a good time regardless of what was going on with her. However, my hope was that Taye would let go of some of the things that seemed to constantly stress her out, and relax for change. She was always so uptight. In my mind, I pictured us having fun at the beach. Holding hands while we took long, romantic walks together. We would once again share little jokes that nobody understood but us. I really hoped that we would rekindle that magic that we once shared.
I looked at my wife as she wandered around the room, bitching and moaning about every-thing, including the fact that she should have gotten a pedicure before she left. And I knew in my heart, that was not going to be the case. I needed this vacation, and I be damned if I was going to allow Taye to ruin it for me.
Once we were taken to our new room with a king-sized bed, things got no better. At dinner that evening, she complained about the service and that her food was cold when it arrived, and kept it up throughout the meal.
“Really, baby? My food is fine,” I said with a smile.
“What are you smiling about? I don’t see anything funny here,” Taye answered.
I put down my knife and fork, and then wiped my mouth with the napkin before placing it gently on the table. “Did you ever think that maybe, just maybe, if you hadn’t given the waiter such a hard time, that he might have taken the time to re-warm your food before he brought it out?”
“Devin James, if that isn’t the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard, I don’t know what is.”
“Trust me, Taye. I worked my way through law school waiting tables. And believe me, people like you get bad service on purpose.”
With that, Taye stood up, slammed her napkin down on the table, and walked away.
“Taye! Taye!” I said loudly, and watched Taye walk out of the restaurant.
I signaled for the waiter and paid the check, but when I got outside, Taye was nowhere in sight. I walked around the area for a few minutes looking for her, before finally saying, “Fuck it.” I got in a cab and went back to the hotel.
When I got back to the room, I found Taye in bed with her sleeping pill bottle and a half-empty glass of water on the nightstand. “God-damn sleeping pills,” I said softly, as I looked at my watch. “It’s too fuckin’ early to go to bed.”
I walked out of the room slamming the door behind me, and went downstairs to the hotel bar and got quietly drunk.
The next day wasn’t any better for us. When I woke up, she was already gone and stayed gone, until well past nine that night. When she came back in the room, Taye had an armful of bags.
“Where were you all day?”
“I did some shopping, and then I went sightseeing,” Taye said.
“You could have waited for me. Did you ever think that maybe I wanted to go sightseeing?”
“If that were the case, you wouldn’t have gone out last night and gotten so drunk that you couldn’t get up. And don’t even try to say that you didn’t. I could smell the liquor on you a mile away.”
“Baby, why does it have to be like this? All I want is for us to have a good time. I didn’t come here with you for us to take separate vacations.”
“Then maybe you should take some time and think about somebody other than your-self,” she shouted, and went into the bathroom and slammed the door.
When she came out of the bathroom thirty minutes later, with nothing on but a towel, I was stretched out on the bed watching television. As Taye dropped the towel, I looked at my wife’s beautiful body, and felt a twinge in my manhood.
Thoughts of making love to her ran through my mind. I thought if I apologized for being inconsiderate and sounded sincere doing it, if I spent some time and talked real nice to her, maybe she would allow me to make love to her. But those thoughts quickly flew out the sliding glass door when she reached for her sleeping pills.
At that moment, I considered going back downstairs to the bar and getting drunk again. I remembered hearing about a deep-sea fishing cruise I wanted to go on, but I knew Taye wouldn’t be interested in anything like that, so I put the thought out of my mind. I had other ideas as I watched my wife put on her nightgown, slide under the covers, and turn her back to me with her ass poked out for me to kiss.
The cruise was scheduled to leave at seven in the morning, so I set the alarm for five-thirty and turned out the lights, mentally preparing for my twelve-hour cruise.
It was four hours out, four hours at sea, and four hours back, so by the time I finished telling big fish stories with the guys, and returned the fishing gear I had rented, it was al-most ten.
When I stepped in the hotel lobby, I saw a very pretty lady walking barefoot, wearing a white-and-black thong bikini, turning men’s heads—and some women’s—in her wake. As I watched her walk, I thought about Taye’s refusal to let me play on her playground. From where I stood, that woman had the kind of playground that I could get used to.
I started to follow her out to the pool to talk to her—she was just that fine. But then I looked at how I was dressed, and how I smelled after a day of fishing in the hot sun. You smell like you work in a sushi bar, I thought. I walked as quickly as I could to the elevator, and went back to my room.
When I got to the room, much to my surprise, and disappointment, Taye was still awake. “Where have you been all day?” Taye asked.
“Hello, Taye,” I said. “I went on a deep-sea fishing cruise. How was your day?”
“Fine,” was her single word answer, and then she returned her eyes and attention to the movie she was watching.
Without another word, I quickly retrieved my swimming trunks from my suitcase, and headed for the shower. Once I was showered and dressed, I grabbed a towel and headed for the door. “I’m going to take a dip in the pool. You wanna join me?” I asked, knowing what her answer would be.
“No, I’m watching a movie.”
“Okay babe. You enjoy.” And with that, I was out the door. I ran down the hall to the elevator, hoping that the woman wouldn’t be gone when I got to there. But if she was gone, I would take a dip. And since Taye was still up and appeared to be in a good mood, I would go back to the room and try to make nice with the wife.
When I arrived at the pool, I looked around for her. “Damn!” I said out loud, disappointed that she was gone. I turned around to put my towel on a chair near the swallow end of the pool. As I turned to get in the water, she literally exploded from the water like Halle Berry did in that Bond movie.
Her head drifted back, and she ran her fingers through her wet hair, before opening her eyes. The beauty had the prettiest set of tits I had ever seen. Her nipples were protruding through the material like they were begging to get sucked. When she got to the steps, I was standing on the edge of the pool, directly in front of her. “Hello,” I said.
“Hi,” she said excitedly.
“How’s the water?” I asked, and noticed the ring on her finger.
“Absolutely wonderful; but don’t take my word for it. I think you should get in the water and see for yourself,” she said with the prettiest smile.
“I think I will,” I said, and laughed a little.
“So what are you waiting for?”
“Nothing,” I said, and made my way to the steps.
“Coward,” the beauty said. “Just get in,” she challenged.
With that, I walked down to the deep end and tried to do the perfect dive. The water was cold at first, but I quickly got use to it and swam to the shallow end where the beauty was still standing.
“What do you think? Is this water wonderful or not?” Avonte asked.
“Yes, it is.”
“I wouldn’t steer you wrong,” the beauty said, then went underwater. Then she came up for air, closed her eyes, and ran her fingers through her wet hair. I felt my dick getting hard. Damn, she was fine as hell. “My name is Avonte Petrocelli.”
“Devin James,” I said, and held out my hand.
“Are you enjoying yourself?” Avonte asked as she made her way back to me.
“Yeah,” I answered slowly, “I’m having a good time.”
“Hmm. Then why don’t I believe you?”
“I don’t know. Why don’t you believe me?”
“Something about the look on your face, and the totally unconvincing way you said yeah.” Avonte licked her lips.
I had to laugh a little, but chose not to comment on her statement; especially since it was the truth. “What about you, Avonte; are you having a good time?” I asked, and hoped she would lick her lips like that again.
“Oh, yeah, I’m having a great time. Mostly, I’ve been out here working on my tan.”
“You tan well. Like a bronze goddess, Avonte.”
“Well, thank you,” Avonte said and smiled. That was nice, too, but not as nice as her tongue floating over her lips.
I took a step back from Avonte and went under the water. When I opened my eyes in the pool, I got an eyeful of Avonte’s wide hips, and the luscious mound between her legs. When I came back up for air, Avonte was walking away from me. As she got out of the pool, Avonte turned her head and winked at me.
“I’m sure I’ll see you around, Devin,” she said, as she walked off dripping wet.
“Oh, yeah, Ms. Avonte, I’m sure that you’ll see me around.”
I wasn’t ready to go back to the room after Avonte left, so I swam around in the pool, thinking how peaceful it was. I thought about how I wanted to be in there with Taye. She used to love the water. Weekend trips to the beach was our thing; or at least one of them. Now, the way things were looking, she wouldn’t even go to the beach with me.
The longer I swam, I slowly came to the conclusion that if I was going to have a good time on my vacation, it would be by myself. It wasn’t how I wanted it to be, but like I said, I would be damned if I let her ruin things for me. But then I thought maybe I was overreacting. Maybe when I get back to the room, Taye and I could go out and experience nightlife in San Juan. Maybe she’d even go to the casino with me, but that would be pushing it. Taye hated smoke-filled casinos, even before everything happened.
With a brand new attitude, I got out of the pool, dried off, and headed back to the room. Dancing. Taye used to like dancing to Latin music, I thought as I put my keycard in the door. “Taye,” I called as walked in, and immediately knew that salsa dancing the night away wasn’t gonna happen.
Taye was fast asleep. The movie she was watching was now watching her. I went and sat down on the bed next to her. “Taye,” I said, and shook her gently. “Wake up, baby. Let’s go do some-thing.”
But she didn’t answer. Taye was dead to the world, and the reason was there on the nightstand: her bottle of sleeping pills. Once she popped a couple of them, Taye could sleep through an earthquake. I got up from the bed and went and sat out on the balcony for a while. It was a beautiful night, and I wasn’t about to spend it in the room watching Taye sleep. I got up and got in the shower, got dressed, and got out of there.
I went to the concierge’s desk and asked for a cab. Once I was in the cab and the driver asked me where I wanted to go, I told him I didn’t know. “I was hoping that you could tell me.”
“What do you want to do, señor?” he asked in better English than I expected. “You look for mujeres?”
“Mujeres?”
“Women, señor,” he smiled, and cupped his hands in front of his chest.
“No, no. Where’s a good place to go dancing?” I asked.
“Rumba.”
“Yeah, rumba,” I said, thinking he was talking about the dance.
“No, no, señor. Rumba is a club in old San Juan.”
“Oh.” I felt stupid, but fuck it, I’m on vacation.
“I tell you, señor, the club is small and it gets crowded, but it’s known in San Juan’s underground nightlife circuit as one of the places to go. They film many crowd scenes for Dirty Dancing: Havana Nights there.”
“Really?”
“Sí, señor.”
“That’s where I want to go,” I told him. And before long, I was at Rumba. It was packed just as my driver said it would be. I looked around the spot, wishing one more time that Taye had been awake to come with me. I went to the bar and ordered a drink. “Barcardi 151,” I called out to the bartender. When he handed it to me, I quickly drained the glass, grabbed the first woman that walked by, and took her out on the dance floor.
While I was out there doing my thing, I happened to look around and became excited when I saw Avonte dancing her ass off. She was wearing a flowing white sleeveless dress that tied around the neck, and fell right into those tits I had admired earlier.
I watched her while she danced. She had the prettiest smile and eyes that drew me to her like a bee to honey. When she left the dance floor, I quickly thanked the woman I was dancing with, and went after Avonte. I had never cheated on Taye. The idea never even crossed my mind. Aside from the fact that we hadn’t been having sex on a regular basis, I really loved my wife—even though, lately, she’d been making my life a living hell. All that changed the moment I saw Avonte walk through that lobby. Since that moment, I hadn’t been able to think of anything else.
She went to the bar and I walked up behind her. “Hello again, Avonte.”
She turned around quickly when she heard my voice. “Well, hello, Devin.”
“You look like you’re enjoying yourself.”
“I am. Having a ball,” Avonte said, and turned to the bartender. “Kettle One and orange juice.” She turned to me. “What are you drinking?”
“Barcardi 151,” I told her over the music, leaning close.
When she handed me my drink, I moved closer to her, and once again, I felt the heat of her body. And once again, it caused the same effect.
“Come dance with me,” Avonte said when a new song began.
I followed Avonte out on the floor, our drinks in hand. We finished our drinks on the dance floor, discarded our empty glasses on the nearest table, and kept dancing. We stayed out there for a long time. Avonte was quite the salsa dancer. We were smiling and laughing and having a good time. By the time we left the floor, we were both drenched.
We went back to the bar and I ordered another round of drinks. While we drank, we talked about the time we had just spent on the dance floor. Then I asked the question that I had wanted to ask her since I’d first seen her. “Did you come here by yourself tonight?”
“Yes.”
“Where’s your husband?” I asked.
“I was about to ask you the same question.” Avonte laughed.
“Yeah, but I asked you first.”
“To be honest with you, my husband is in New York.”
“Is that where you live?” I asked, hoping she’d say yes.
“Yeah, we live in Glen Cove; out on the island.”
“Oh really? I live in New York too.”
Avonte smiled like it was the best news she’d heard all day. “Now, stop avoiding the question. Where’s your wife?”
“She’s in the room sleeping. I tried to wake her to see if she wanted to come, but I couldn’t wake her.”
“You must not have tried too hard.”
“It’s a long story.”
“Have the two of you been having fun together?”
“No,” I said flatly. “We’re taking separate vacations, or at least that’s how it seems. At this point, I’ve spent more time with you than I have with her.”
By this time, Avonte was laughing. “I’m sorry to hear that, Devin. I’d ask you why that is, but I’m guessing that’s a long story too.”
“And you’d be right.”
“Sorry, Devin, got no time for long, sad stories. Got one of my own I’m trying to work my way through.”
“Maybe someday I’ll tell you mine, and you can tell me yours.”
“Pity party for two, huh? But that assumes that we’ll get to know each other, and be comfortable enough to do that. I’m sure your wife won’t like that.”
I started to say that at this time of night, my wife doesn’t even know I exist. “True, and I don’t think your husband will be too happy with your new friend either.”
Avonte looked away but then she turned back quickly. “Come on. Let’s dance.”
We spent the rest of the night dancing, drinking, and talking about any– and every-thing. When Rumba closed at four in the morning, we caught a cab back to the hotel. I walked proudly through the lobby, with Avonte on my arm like she was my wife. When we got to the elevator, Avonte turned and faced me. “I guess this is where we say good night.”
“I was hoping you’d let me escort you to your room.”
“I don’t think that would be a good idea,” Avonte said, and pressed the button for the elevator.
“Well, I guess this is good night then. I had a great time with you, Avonte. Best time I’ve had in a very long while.”
“I was about to say the same thing. Thank you for showing a lady a good time.”
Well, why does it have to end? I could come up to the room with you and knock your back out. That’s what I wanted to say to her. “It was my pleasure.” I held out my hand as the elevator door opened. “Good night, Avonte.”
She took a step forward and kissed me on the cheek. “Good night, Devin.” Avonte got on the elevator. “Maybe I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said as the door began to close.
“I don’t think you’ll be able to keep me away from you.”
Chapter Four
Avonte
I leaned against the wall and took a deep breath. I had to get away from Devin before I changed my mind, dragged him to my room, ripped off his clothes, and rode him like a horse at the Kentucky Derby. It had been a very long time since I’d had something thick and stiff inside me. Since Tyrone started fucking his new blonde bitch, which I assumed began when they started working on the acquisition, I hadn’t had any. Unless masturbation was considered getting some, it had been six months. I’m guessing the word overdue would have been an understatement at that point.
I had a good time with Devin. He was fun to be with, and a good dancer. While we were walking through the lobby, I looked at his hands and feet. Big hands, big feet—big dick; I know it’s an old wives tale, but in my experience, it’s held true. Devin had big feet—size thirteen or fourteen, if I had to venture a guess. And his hands were big, too. But he’s a big guy—six-two and well-built, so on him, big hands and feet would only be natural.