2
LaTavia
“LaTavia, I’ll be back to pick you up at seven o’clock. And don’t have me sittin’ out here all fuckin’ morning waiting on you either!
Tavia, did you hear me? I’ll be back to get you at seven . . . LaTavia, did you hear what I just said? . . . LaTavia!”
“Goddamn, Trey, the entire city can you hear you! I get off at seven o’clock, which means you’ll be here at seven o’clock to pick me up; I got it!”
He says, “Yeah, you better have it. And if you late comin’ out this muthafucka, you can walk home. You got that, smart ass!” sitting in the driver’s seat of my car, pushing smoke out of his lungs from the kush I bought with my paycheck.
DonTreyveon was my man if you considered someone like him a man. Trey and I met six years ago at a party on the Westside of Detroit. I was in the D visiting my homegirl Monica one weekend when she asked me to roll with her to a new club off 8 Mile road. I’m always gamed to party, so it was on!
I had the prettiest Indian Remy hair flowing down my back with my amethyst contacts in. My nails were done, and so were my toes. My super tight jeans were fitting my apple bottom just right with my forty-two double Ds popping out of my top. It was clear I was ready and willing for just about anything, and anyone, that night. Well, anyone except a compulsive cheater, a habitual liar, or a messy, neurotic control freak, which is exactly what I ended up with.
The night Trey and I met, he walked right up to me after spotting me in the crowd. His long, lanky body towered over mine as he stood directly in front of me. Without warning, permission, or even a hello, he put his tongue down my throat. After I slapped the shit out of him for not only violating my personal space but also putting his lips on me without at least knowing my name first, I wanted more.
Back then, Trey’s swag was a major turn-on. His crispy Caesar, jetblack skin, straight white teeth, and long curved dick only added to my infatuation for him. I fell madly in love with Trey right from the start. In my mind, I couldn’t live without him, so I moved him from Detroit to Toledo so we could be together.
It didn’t matter that he didn’t have a job, no car, no money, no hustle, no education, no determination, a bad attitude, and bad breath—it was all good, I thought. I was in love. Remember? I guess I thought my nine dollars an hour part-time job, low-income housing, car in my mama name, cable in my daddy name, and electric in my five-year-old baby cousin’s name would be enough for Trey and me to survive. Boy, was I wrong!
After a year of the bills piling up, a disconnected pre-paid cell phone, and running from the repo man, I was finished with Mr. DonTreyveon Watson. I was ready for a real man, one with no kids, no excuses, and good credit. But, instead of a real man, six years later, I’m still stuck with this bum.
Trey honked the horn and shouted, “LaTavia!” right before I walked into the hotel I worked for as a night laundry attendant.
With the handle of the door in my right hand, I turned toward my car and yelled, “What, Trey!”
His stupid-ass winks at me blow three smoke rings into the air, and then says, “I love you, baby.”
I rolled my eyes up toward the huge Macy’s billboard overlooking the hotel right before I turned back to enter my job.
When he honked and yelled my name again—LaTavia—I came back outside, hoping none of the guests at the hotel were being disturbed by my loud, obnoxious, high as a kite boyfriend. I snapped, “What is it, Trey?!”
When he asked, “You don’t love me, too?” I wanted to run back to the car and punch him in his face, but I decided against it. I had a long night ahead of me, and I wasn’t wasting any more energy that I didn’t have on Trey.
After I told him I loved him, and bid him his farewells, I went into work and instantly got started on the pile of shit the housekeepers left for me. I put a load of bath towels in the washer as hot soapy water filled the sink of dirty dishes.
The second I sat down in the break room to fill out my timesheet, I could see an image of a man in the small black and white monitor mounted in the corner. At first, I thought it was Trey, but even thru the tiny, fuzzy screen, I could tell my assumptions were incorrect.
I stood up, straightened my clothes, and headed out to the guy that was waiting in the guest service area to be helped.
I said, “Yes, may I help you?” while his eyes seemed to be combing my body.
When his answer stalled, I asked, “Do you have a reservation?” while thinking to myself, he’s kind of cute. After a second glance, I discovered he’s kind of fine!
As my mind started to take off, he still didn’t say anything. Instead, he handed me an out-of-state driver’s license that told me he was a Male that was 6-03, weighed 185 lbs, and had Brown Eyes. His license also revealed his name is Jamal.
I typed his name into the computer to see if I could locate his reservation without any luck. Next, I checked the registration log but found nothing.
“Wait here for me; I’m going to check in the back to see if your paperwork was misplaced, okay?” After his short nod, I said, “I’ll be right back.”
I stood over the table in the breakroom, searching through a paper list when suddenly I felt someone come up behind me. I could’ve turned around to gain a positive I.D., but I knew exactly who the Issey Miyake that filled my nostrils belonged to. According to his driver’s license, his name is Jamal.
Before I could turn to him, his arms were around my waist. I could feel him thrusting his growing dick on my ass through his Jeans. He moved a little faster as he started running his hands down my thick thighs. Next, he went for my titties and latched onto my erect nipples that had started poking through my bra and thin T the second I saw him. I exhaled as his warm, sweet-smelling breath hummed on my neck.
What was this man doing back here? Why did he follow me? And why am I letting any of this happen? What should I do? Fight him off? Scream for help? Should I start to cry, or should I just keep moaning the way I’m doing right now?
I could be fired for letting a guest in the employee area of the hotel. What if my bitchy boss found out? What if my coworkers found out? What if Trey found out?! I could be fired, humiliated, and dumped all because I decided to let this gorgeous stranger violate me.
Even with the thought of losing my man, and my low paying job, I didn’t make him stop. I allowed him to continue to touch me in places that he shouldn’t be touching. I let him kiss areas on my body that was reserved only for Trey. I let Jamal have every inch of me without resisting.
I threw my head back into his chest as my hips whirled with his movements. He unbuttoned my tight-fitting jeans and stuck his hands down the front of my panties. I could feel the fabric of my panties clinging to my wet lips as Jamal’s fingers made their way to my center. His tongue slid into my ear just as his middle finger entered my hairy pussy.
I don’t shave my feminine area per Trey’s request. He says he likes it all-natural down there, and so do I. And apparently, so does Jamal because he was finger fucking me, and my pussy hole gladly participated.
With his dick still pressed against me, he locked me into a compact position in front of him. I couldn’t move anything but my hips. I let Jamal take over my space, my mind, and my body.
Trey’s fifteen minutes of pleasure was nothing like this. I was using this private, silent rendezvous as a way for me to escape my shitty life. Jamal was freeing me from a life that I dreaded; a man I despised and a job I couldn’t stand. He felt so good inside me; I wanted to cream all over him just to thank him for this quick trip to ecstasy.
As I moaned, I felt my jeans suddenly drop down to my ankles. I stepped out of one pants leg as the other remained bunched up at my feet.
Jamal took his big dick out of the hole in is striped boxers and bounced it on my naked cheek. His fat cock smacked my ass one last time before I screamed out from pain and pleasure. He slid right inside of me without a fight. My wet womanhood accepted him and all his inches.
With me bent over the breakroom table, Jamal lunged harder and deeper—deeper and faster—faster and stronger—stronger and wider as I threw my ass back and made my pussy clap on his stiff dick. Jamal didn’t stop until the tip of his penis drifted to a place inside of me that I didn’t even know existed. I squealed as I clawed the cheap tablecloth that covered the scratched wooden table.
He was still running in and out of me with ease. He fucked me like he owned me and my world—like he wanted me to go home to my man with only him on my mind. If those were his intentions, then he would surely succeed, because there was nothing Trey could do for me that could top Jamal. That meant Trey was out, and Jamal was in! At least for the moment.
I’m sure I would probably never see this man again after he made me feel the way a woman is supposed to feel. He’ll probably please my insides and never speak to me again. I won’t exist in his life. After he nuts, he’ll look at me as nothing more than some random chick with a fat ass, long extensions, and bamboo earrings he smashed in the employee break room of some crummy hotel. He’ll go back to his life as if nothing happened, and I was to do the same, which I was prepared to do.
After this night was over, Trey will pick me up once I got off work. We’ll go home where I’ll suck his dick until he falls fast asleep in my mouth—I’ll then head to the bathroom, turn on the shower water, step inside the bay and wash off Jamal’s cologne. Once his scent is washed from my body, I wouldn’t have any more reminders of what he and I shared tonight besides sore muscles and an overjoyed pussy that would secretly scream out his name in passion whenever it got the chance.
Holy Shit! I braced myself as I felt my pussy about to cream again. I wasn’t used to this feeling; at least not without my big, black ten-inch vibrator, I nicknamed Hector inside of me.
Jamal’s hard dick was pounding my pussy as I held onto the corners of the table. My legs buckled and cried for mercy even though he didn’t show me any. I was coming, and I was coming now! I screamed. I yelled. I groaned, and oh yeah, I came—hard! Jamal had fucked me just right, and I rewarded him by letting my juices flow all down his shaft.
Winded, and still horny, it was time for me to be a naughty girl. I was about to turn around, drop to my knees, and lick Jamal clean. I’m going to give him what the Chinese call a happy ending, but when I turned around . . . he was gone. It was as if he had disappeared. I thought maybe he quickly slipped away and went to freshen up, but when I rounded the corner and opened the door to the bathroom, it was empty. The stranger that made me chant out his name aloud was gone.
I didn’t understand how that could be, nor did I care. Jamal got what he wanted, and so-did-I!
Well, now it’s back to work and reality. The dude with the muscular arms, big dick, and strong strokes was gone, but will never be forgotten. Jamal had only started my night, but I would make sure Trey finished it. Between my legs was still dripping wet and needed more attention.
After my body relaxed, I called Trey’s cell. He answered on the first ring as he always did. When I heard his voice, I rolled my eyes as I always did, took a deep breath, and cooed in his ear. “See you at seven o’clock, Daddy . . . And don’t be late . . .”