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or thirty. He had the look of the streets on him. My sister in-
troduced us. He was my brother-in-law s cousin. Of course,
my sister found it necessary to tell him my occupation, and
offered the fact that I was single. I m sure he saw me as a
cash cow, but even I wasn t desperate enough to date him.
He waited maybe an hour or so before he started flirt-
ing, but really what he was doing was annoying the hell out
of me. My thoughts were occupied by the man to whom
I d given my phone number earlier in the day. The mere
fact that my brother-in-law s cousin s cell phone kept ring-
ing was clearly an indication that he was a drug dealer, and
probably the father of many bastard children, I assumed.
But the one thing that I couldn t deny was the sexy swagger
he held.
When it was time to leave, I learned from the man with
the sexy swagger that he lived in Malvern, too. My sister
had neglected to tell me that, and I wondered how was
that so? Could he have possibly sold that many drugs? We
BRENDA L. THOMAS
wound up leaving at the same time, and it was a good thing I
knew he lived near me, or I would ve thought he was stalk-
ing me in that green Jaguar.
We parted ways at the exit, and when I got into the
house, I was disappointed there weren t any messages on
my phone. I had just showered, and was about to get in my
pool when the doorbell chimed. I peeked through the glass,
and it was him, the drug dealing cousin with the sexy swag-
ger.
 What do you want? And how do you know where I
live? I asked through the glass door.  I locked myself out.
My house keys are on a different key ring than my car key,
and your sister called and asked me to make sure you made
it safe. I thought you knew, he said.
 What do you want? I asked again.
 I figured we could have a drink while I wait on a call
back from the locksmith.
 You don t have anywhere else to go?
 Well, your sister also told me you live out here alone, so
I thought it d be alright.
 And you assumed I needed your company?
 Hey, it s a drink. What, are you scared of me? Here, call
your sister, let her know I m here, he said, holding out his
cell phone.
Then it hit me. I had once again become the charity case,
and I was sick of it. He had no idea whose house he was en-
tering and what I was capable of. If he said one wrong thing
to hurt my feelings, I was going to serve him My Juice, an
entire vial.
 Just come in, I said, before realizing I was in my robe,
with my hair pulled up in a ponytail and no makeup on.
Well, what did it matter? I was certain he wasn t interested
in me.
I told him I was about to get in the pool, and that he could
Bedroom Chronicles
sit out there or in the family room while he waited. Initially,
he played with the car key while I swam a few laps naked,
knowing that at the sight of that he wouldn t be interested,
even if it was for charity. When I stepped out the pool for a
break, he was watching. I knew I should ve put on a robe,
but I simply didn t care anymore.
 What do you have to drink? he asked.
 Over there, I said, pointing to the pool bar. I sat on the
side of the pool.  Why are you really here? I don t believe
the locksmith story.
 Besides waiting on the locksmith and the drink, I need-
ed some company, didn t want to be alone.
 A guy like you, I doubt you d have a problem being
alone. What do you do anyway?
 I do what you do, except a little differently, he said.
 Yeah, I bet, I said.
 Where s the Tequila?
 In the fridge over there at the bar. I like it cold.
He left the pool, headed toward the bar area, then hol-
lered,  What are you drinking?
 There s wine on the bar. Red, please, I answered, won-
dering if there was even the remote possibility that this man
could be lonely.
 You know your sister thinks you need a husband, he
said, putting my drink on the side table.
 Fuck her! I yelled, then covered my mouth with my
hand, and said,  Oh, I m sorry, I meant to say my sister
doesn t know what I need. I realized I d let myself slip in
front of someone outside my bedroom. That bothered me
because I d always been recognized as a good girl. I d never
taken drugs, only drank wine, and until I was nineteen, I d
been a virgin.
 You can cuss, be yourself. I won t tell anyone, he said.
 Using foul language isn t necessary.
BRENDA L. THOMAS
 Do you go out?
 When I want to.
I finished off my wine and dove back into the pool, this
time making long graceful strokes, even feeling somewhat
sexy. Probably because, not only was the water at the right
temperature, but the wine had warmed me from the inside.
I went under water, swam to the other end, and when I
emerged, he was there waiting for me. He had both the wine
and Tequila bottles at his side.
 You ve already figured me out, haven t you? he asked.
 I m not interested in figuring you out.
 Here.
I took the bottle, but didn t see my glass.  Where s my
glass? I asked.
 Down there, he said, pointing to the table at the other
end of the pool.
I wanted to swim to get it, but my body was tired and I
was a little too high.
 Here, you can drink out the bottle. I won t tell anyone.
I looked around foolishly to see if anyone was there, and
laughing, I guzzled down some of the wine, right out the
bottle. A first.
 Be careful, you might curse again, he said, laughing.
Surprisingly, the wine sent a blast of heat through my
body.
 I need to get out the pool.
 Let me get out the way, he said, sitting there half in
the water, his clothes on, the bottom of his pants wet.  You
know I wanna fuck you, right? he confidently told me, as I
attempted to get out the water.
 What did you say? I asked, surprised.
 You heard me. I wanna fuck you, and I already know
you wanna fuck me.
 I don t need no man to fuck me, I fuck when I wanna
Bedroom Chronicles
fuck.
 Well, from what I ve seen, somebody s been doing
some fucking. So I m telling you to plan on having yourself
a good time tonight, he said.
With that, he hoisted my ass up out the water, his pants
sticking to him, and he carried me into the house.
 What are you doing? Put me down!
 Let s go. Where s your bedroom?
 Wait, wait, what are you doing? I need& 
 What you need to know is that the tables have turned,
he said, then dropped me onto the couch, and began making
his way up my stairs.
I found myself anxiously following him up the stairs and
down the hallway until he reached my bedroom.
 What do you think you re doing? I asked.
He turned to face me, his lips almost touching mine, and
said,  Bitch, you know what I m doing. I m fucking you.
Now get up on that bed. I want you on all fours.
At that point, even with the fuzziness of my head, I knew
something was wrong. Could I have become the victim
of my own juice? Impossible! Either way, I wasn t horny
enough to get fucked by this drug dealer, at least that s what
I was trying to tell myself. But what was even scarier was
that, for some reason, I felt I didn t have a choice. I wanted
him.
I got up on all fours, and I heard him undo his chunky
belt and it drop to the floor. Initially, there was no foreplay,
licking or sucking, he just rammed himself inside of me,
causing me to scream out from an immediate orgasm. If
only I could ve understood what was going on. I hadn t
even been interested in him. I mean, yes, he was sexy, but
he wasn t my type. Yet, I had this uncontrollable urge to be
fucked by him.
When he pulled out his dick, I was the one who begged
BRENDA L. THOMAS
for more, which he gave me by ramming it inside me again.
In and out, he did this, and each time an orgasm ripped
loose from my body. After about the fourth orgasm my
knees buckled, and rather than let me collapse onto the bed,
he gripped me with one arm and continued to ride me. He
was relentless.
Finally, unable to hold me up any longer, he flipped me
over, spread my legs and let his tongue loose inside of me. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]