Keep Your Mouth Shut

From a woman's perspective


I was standing on the roof of the Esplanade Building, just outside the elevator. My hair was whipping Sarah in the face, a result of the high winds we were getting that night. She laughed and I laughed back, careful not to spill my Fuzzy Navel in the process. I was having a great time. This was far better than any of the other lame parties my husband had dragged me to.

I was “a wife”, a spouse of one of the most powerful brokers who worked at Rodgers Holdings, LLC. We met each other and became the best of friends years ago. We were treated (and acted) like royalty. Our husbands brought in good money, as did some of us, and we rarely had any problems.

But that night I made a problem, one I could’ve avoided completely. I walked right into it. Why? I was LaKeisha Fuckin' Davis, wife of Terrance Davis, one of the company’s most valued employees. His boss practically offered to kiss my feet when we showed up that night. Didn’t that earn me the right to speak my mind? I thought so.

My problem was standing somewhere behind me as I stood on that rooftop, even though I didn’t know it. It wasn’t until after we got on the elevator that I saw her, again. She boarded with a smile, turning and facing the door as it closed. I stared at the back of her head, sipping my drink and looking down on her.

Her name (as I would later find out) was Rayven Billingsley. I had never met her and, to my knowledge, she had never been at any of the other parties I’d attended. Which meant she was either a new hire or a girlfriend/wife of one of the other employees. I assumed it was the latter. She was good-looking and outgoing; definitely younger than me, but not by much. Her date/husband was Orlando Washington, some nobody who’d been hired only a couple of years ago. Him I knew. Rayven I didn’t.

So you might be wondering what I didn’t like about her. I wasn’t jealous. I was pretty damn sexy myself, and confident to boot. The jealousy bug never hit me in that way.

Truthfully, it was her outfit. Rayven was wearing a backless top and a pair of shorts. Wait, let me elaborate. Her top was one of those around-the-neck numbers with a single tie in the back. From the front it was almost passable—there was cleavage, but not much, and you could only see a peek of stomach below it. But her whole damn back was exposed, and (of course) she wasn’t wearing a bra. From the right angle she almost looked topless. I’d seen quite a few necks—necks attached to married men, by the way—craning to check her out that night.

That wasn’t the worst part. Her shorts were criminally short. They weren’t exactly dukes, but she couldn’t bend over in them. They were loose, not form-fitting, and they moved, fluttering and rising in the wind like a skirt. Rayven was giving anyone who cared to look a view of the bottom of her ass. I wasn’t even trying and I saw it. To top it off, she either wasn’t wearing panties, or she had on a really good thong.

All of that was stretched over a nicely-shaped body with flawless skin. She was completely on display. Now, I’ve been outside in the summer, and I’ve been on the beach, so I’ve seen how daring girls can get. It was honestly a really cute outfit—for hanging out on the patio, or around the pool. But this was an office party at the Esplanade, not Mardi Gras on Bourbon St. Sure, it was hot, and others were dressed casually, but she was over the line.

Normally I wouldn’t say anything. But I was a member of the Wife Club. I had fellow Wife Club members flanking me. And I had a few drinks in me. So I decided to say my piece.

“Next time why don’t you cover up a little more?” I said suddenly, my normal voice clearly understandable in the silent elevator.

She didn’t even turn around. I hadn’t touched her or done anything to get her attention, but everyone knew who I was talking to. Outside of Sarah and Karen, the only other occupant was Makayla, a secretary in accounting. A nobody.

“Don’t act like you don’t hear me.” My eyes were boring holes in the back of her head.

Karen and Sarah stood there silently, watching and waiting for a reaction. Makayla, who had briefly turned to look at me when I started talking, looked down at the Coke in her head and tried to be invisible.

Rayven shook her head slowly and muttered, “Hatahs.”

“What was that, hun?” I said immediately. I’d heard her fine, but I wanted her to repeat it, louder, so that everyone could hear her. I just knew she wouldn’t. I’d have bet a thousand she wouldn’t.

I’d have lost that bet. Showing more nerve than I would have thought, Rayven turned, looked me in the eyes, and repeated herself.

“I said ‘hatahs’,” she said clearly. Cocky little bitch. I felt a twinge of anger start to grow inside me.

“No, sweetie, ain’t nobody hatin’ on you. I just got class, that’s all. I don’t need to walk around with my ass out to get attention.”

Without the slightest bit of hesitation, Rayven shot back. “You couldn’t pull this off and you know it. Maybe if you spent more time in the gym and less time knockin’ back those fruity-ass drinks, you could squeeze inside somethin’ like this next year.” She put just the right amount of sneer in her voice to let me know how much she was holding back.

In only a fraction of a second my anger jumped from a 2 to an 8. The insult was bullshit—my ass was in great shape. But this bitch had balls. Or the female equivalent of balls (tubes?). Anyway, I stood there in disbelief, wondering if she knew who I was. If she didn’t, she would soon realize I wasn’t one to be fucked with. And if she did know, she was fucking stupid.

“Oh, hell nah,” Sarah muttered lowly, glaring at Rayven.

I was already mad that I didn’t come back as fast as she did. But my gears were turning. Without taking my eyes off of her, I handed my drink to Karen and took a step forward.

“Listen, ho, I—”

“’Ho’!?”

“Yeah, you heard me, ho. You must be new around here. Who the fuck you think you talkin’ to?!” My temper was about to erupt. Sarah and Karen knew it, too. They were looking at me, and Karen had her hand on my arm.

“I’m talkin’ to you, bitch,” she responded. The way she spat that “bitch” out made my skin burn, and she hesitated just long enough to let it sink in. “What the fuck you even lookin’ for? I can’t tell if you worried yo’ man can’t keep his eyes offa me, or if you a fuckin’ dyke.” She started to turn around after that, then muttered, “Hatin-ass envious bitch.”

She wasn’t furious, she didn’t yell, and her words came out slow, not rushed and mashed together. Me, on the other hand, I had completely lost it. Fueled by rage, I grabbed Rayven’s shoulder and spun her back around so that she was facing me.

She still wasn’t mad yet. At least not completely. Her brow was crinkled, though—I could tell she didn’t like to be touched. She raised her right hand and slapped my hand off of her shoulder. It didn’t hurt, exactly, but at that point I was out of control. I whipped my right hand out hard and fast, slapping her across the face.

I couldn’t have asked for a more perfect blow. Just from the sound alone I knew I had fucked her up. It had that loud skin-on-skin sound that can only come from a hard face-slap. Hold your left hand in the air in front of you and slap it with your right. Yeah, it sounded just like that. Rayven’s face didn’t just move, her whole body turned to the right and she stumbled into the opposite corner of the elevator car. Her hand shot up to her face, grabbing her reddening cheek and holding it. She looked down and kept looking down, even after she had regained her balance.

Karen pulled me back into the opposite corner and stood in front of me, while Sarah stood off to the side, keeping her eyes on Rayven. I got the feeling she would jump in if Rayven retaliated. Makayla, as useless as ever, stood next to the buttons, her back pushed up against the wall, eyes wide, wanting more than ever for the doors to open so she could rush out and tell somebody what happened.

The other members of the Wife Club were saying something, but I can’t remember what it was. But when Rayven dropped her arm the talking stopped. All of our eyes were fixed on her.

“I’m gonna fuck your husband,” she muttered, almost too low to hear, her eyes fixed to the floor.

It was a strange, startling announcement. Ridiculous, when you think about. Even if she was going to fuck my man, no woman announces it beforehand. Nah, it was just another insult, like calling my ass fat and calling me a dyke.

“Bitch, you don’t even know—”

“Terrance Zachary Davis, thirty-five years old, lives in West Essex. One c***d, Danica Miles, from a previous marriage. Employed at Rodgers Holdings for eleven years now. About 6’1”, 195 lbs., tattoos on his chest, thigh and arms.”

I stared at her, stunned.

“Likes vodka tonics and greasy Chinese food. Arrogant at times. Plays golf and is learning guitar. Has a big dick.”

I sputtered out something incomprehensible, pushing against Karen, wanting to pounce on her and do something that would get me arrested.

Rayven finally looked back at me then. “Awwww, you didn’t think you were the first one to ride it, did you? I been there, LaKeisha. Goin’ there again.”

“You fuckin’ bitch!” I said, wondering how she knew my name.

“He’s gonna fuck me. He’s gonna do it here, at work, where you can’t possibly find out, and he’s gonna lie about it to you. I mean, look at me. He does. He looks at me all the time.”

I almost pushed Karen off of me, then, but Sarah joined in and held me back.

“When he comes home he’ll kiss you with the same mouth he ate my pussy with. You’ll get my sloppy seconds, bitch. And you’ll spend every single second of your failed marriage wondering if he’s the liar, or if I am.”

“You need to get the fuck out of here,” Karen said, staring at her in disbelief.

As if she had some weird psychic power, a chime sounded and the elevator finally opened, after what seemed like the longest ride in the world. The bitch actually smiled at me. Then, without another word, she exited. Makayla looked at me with a shocked look on her face and followed her.

Karen and Sarah let the doors close, and only then did they let me go. I was delirious with anger. I hadn’t gotten into an actual fistfight since the sixth grade, so my nerves were frazzled. But never, never had anyone pushed my buttons like that, not once in all of my twenty-seven years. Not only had Rayven stood up to me, she had threatened me. Or threatened to fuck my husband, which was the same thing. Remember earlier when I said I wasn’t jealous? I was after that ride.

Somebody had called the elevator back up to the roof, and on the way we talked about what just happened. There was a lot of swearing, mostly on my part, but I managed to calm down. A few things were clear. First of all, Rayven had fucked Terrance. When and under what circumstances I couldn’t know, but she knew about the thigh tattoo and his big dick. That, combined with the other details, was too specific to just be a guess. The two of them had a history, which meant it was only a matter of time before…I couldn’t even think about it. She had the upper hand. For now.

We had all assumed that Rayven would be gone when we got back downstairs, but again we had her wrong. She was there, with Orlando at her side, chatting people up as if nothing at all had happened. Evidently she had made a trip to the restroom, because both of her cheeks were rosy, not just one. The makeup job was flawless, and with her complexion she was able to pull the blushy-cheek look off.

The girl had balls—excuse me, tubes. She knew I wouldn’t start any shit with her at the party (two words: career destruction) and she was smart enough not to make eye contact with me. Looking at her made me sick with anger, but I knew then and there what I needed to do. I loved Terrance, but I’d never fought over a man, and I wasn’t going to start then. And I couldn’t just let that bitch go after my man. That left only one choice.

I managed to get Orlando alone when he was coming out of the restroom later that night. It was the perfect spot—out of the way, quiet, and deserted.

“Orlando,” I said when he came out, pretending I had just gotten some water.

“Mrs. Davis. How’s it goin’?”

“Great. Call me Keisha.”

We chatted for a little while about the usual mundane stuff. Even though he’d been at the company for a couple of years, I’d mostly ignored him, so I found the conversation at least somewhat interesting. Even still, the fact that I wanted to know so much and was keeping him so close to the restroom made him suspicious. So I played up the drinking angle quite a bit. Didn’t want him to think I was d***k, just...uninhibited.

“Why you keep tryin’ to get away from me?” I said loudly, pulling on his shirt as he headed back towards the party.

“I’m just…headed back…”

“I’m tryin’ to have a conversation with you.”

“I’m sorry.”

Standing next to the restroom door, where I could see and hear anyone coming, I listened to the details of Orlando’s boring life while muttering “Yeah?” and “uh-huh” and “Oh, really?” whenever appropriate. I asked a few more questions and started giving him my most lustful looks. Believe me when I tell you it always works. Everyone I’ve given that look to has ended up inside of me, no exceptions.

Orlando knew it, too. He started to get nervous and fidgety. It was time to wrap this thing up. I moved in close to him and put my fingers in between the buttons on his shirt.

“Mrs. Da—Keisha, I really need to go.”

“That’s what you need to do. What do you want to do?” I asked, unfastening one of his buttons.

“With all respect, I think you’ve had too much to drink.”

“I think you’ve had too little.”

“OK, then let’s go get another.”

I let my hand graze his dick in such a way that he couldn’t be sure if it was an accident or not. It wasn’t completely hard, but it was getting there.

“Later,” I said, and started sucking on his neck. Orlando put his hand on my lower back while I leaned into him and started moaning after only a few seconds. There was only one thing left to do, and that was to grab his dick. Once I did that, he would do whatever I said. It was scientifically proven.

“Mrs. Davis—”

“Keisha.”

“Keisha—oh shit—I can’t do this. Terrance is my friend.”

“Terrance ain’t here.” I unzipped his pants and stuck my hand inside. After hooking the top of his underwear with my finger, I had his dick in my hands, just like I knew I would. He was mine.

I stroked him inside his pants for about a minute while he looked around for me. His dick was big, too big for me to throat, but I was going to try. Orlando might have been dull as a person, but he would be an exciting fuck-buddy if he knew what he was doing.

I really hoped he knew what he was doing.

“Keisha, we can’t…uhhhhh…we can’t do this!”

“You’re not stoppin’ me,” I said, licking my lips. “You say one thing, but your dick says something else.” I felt a little bit of precum brush against my finger and my heart sped up. It was time to do this.

“Nobody’s gone in or out of that bathroom in over ten minutes,” I remarked, stroking him harder. Holding him by his cock, I started to pull him towards the restroom door and was, again, met with resistance.

“Your husband is right around the corner.”

I was fed up with his bullshit, but I didn’t let it show. Still speaking lowly, I said, “Either you let me suck it in there, or I can suck it right here. Your choice.” Then I slid down to my knees and touched my tongue to his leaking cock, right there in the hallway. Orlando closed his eyes and, after hurriedly pulling me back on my feet, he threw one last look over his shoulder and held my hand as we walked into the restroom.

The hard part was over. I went to the handicapped stall (always the largest one) and pushed him inside. I was on my knees instantly, and had his pants around his ankles seconds later. I looked up at him and gave him several long, hard sucks to chase any remaining bit of softness out of his cock.

For a minute I thought he was going to pop right then and there. I paused, letting spit fall to the floor while he found my eyes again. Then I took him all the way in, balls-deep. For some reason Orlando kept his pubic area shaved—probably at Rayven’s request, I assumed—but whatever the reason, it made throating him much easier. I was able to slide an inch or two into my throat and leave it there for a few seconds without gagging, something Terrance insisted I learn when we were dating. I pulled out, silently gasped for air, and throated him again. After another withdrawal I put my mouth under his cock and caught all of the drool that was falling off of it, then started sucking again.

Orlando moaned and whispered encouragements while I spit-shined his cock. A couple of times he touched his hand to the back of my head, wanting to hold it, but backed off even though I never said anything. I wouldn’t have minded. Orlando was just being polite.

Judging my his facial expressions, he seemed to enjoy the sucking more than the throating. So, after swallowing him a few more times, I gave it up and focused only on the blowjob. It paid off. Orlando couldn’t handle me. I think just my speed alone would have been enough, but I also occasionally twisted and jerked his shaft with my hands and worked his tip with my tongue. Once I took my hands off of it I wrecked him with just my mouth. Without even giving me the courtesy of a warning he let go inside me, filling my mouth with his thick load. I tilted his dick up at an angle and let his cum slide backwards down the outside of his cock, keeping my clothes nice and clean in the process. I never took his dick out until he was finished, and even then I flicked at the tip of his sensitive dick with my tongue until he made me stop.

I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and stood up, grabbing some tissue and handing it to him. I would have helped, but I didn’t want any cum on my hands—someone might notice the smell. After dropping several wads of wet tissue into the toilet, he flushed it and pulled up his pants while I watched. I gave his dick a few strokes and squeezes before he tucked it away, and we smiled at each other. Dirty, illicit sex is so exciting. I missed it.

“We’ve been gone too long,” I said quietly. We were both thinking it, but I said it. People were going to come looking for us soon.

Orlando fished around in his pockets for a second, then pulled out a metallic case. “Here’s my card,” he said, handing one to me. “Call me tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow, huh?”

“Or whenever.”

“I will.” I put his card in my bra. “Can you check the hallway for me?”

“Yeah.” He left the stall and opened the door. After he said “clear” I left and hurried into the hallway. Orlando was behind me. I turned and almost smiled back when I saw the grin on his face. He knew he was getting this pussy.

“Hang back for a minute before you come out, alright?”

“Alright.”

I turned and left.


You have no idea how hard it was not to go up to Raven and tell here I had just had her man, less than two hours after her stupid threat. I could have, but I wasn’t finished yet. She told me she would fuck my husband, so naturally I was going to fuck Orlando. Not that night, but soon enough. I didn’t tell anyone else, either, not even Sarah, Karen, and the other members of the Wife Club. There would be time to gloat later.

I called Orlando two days later. Without beating around the bush, I told him I wanted to see him that afternoon, and he agreed. I thought he would get a hotel or something, but he asked me to come over to his place. I thought it was a bad idea and told him so, but he insisted. I didn’t argue.

I put on one of my sexy summer outfits, which (ironically) consisted of a pair of powder blue cotton shorts and a sleeveless shirt. Instead of underwear I had on a bikini underneath—it was a loud orange that showed easily through my white shirt, but not through my bottoms. Yeah, if you looked hard enough you could see some cleavage and side-boob, but I’m not a hypocrite. My shorts were plenty longer than Rayven’s, and overall I was still much more covered up than she was. I put on a pair of sandals, a large tropical hat, and an oversized, MJ Blige pair of sunglasses. After putting Orlando’s address into my GPS, I made my way over to his place.

I started getting wet even before I got to his condo. It had been years since I’d fucked anybody except for Terrance, and the sneak preview Saturday night had kept me worked up. I fought the urge to jill off on Sunday and Monday, opting to save all of my energy for this day.

Once inside I tossed my hat and glasses to the side so he could see me. Orlando played it cool, telling me I looked hot and offering me a drink. I took it. He looked pretty good himself, wearing a loose-fitting pair of cargo shorts and a wife-beater, showing off one solitary tattoo on his left shoulder. Forget the pleasantries and build-up, I wanted to fuck him right away. That the only reason I was there.

I sipped my drink on the sofa while music played in the background, and we talked about his art for a couple of minutes. There was only a few inches of space between us, which Orlando closed while we talked. Finally he took the drink out of my hand and made his first move, putting his hand around my waist and licking my earlobe.

That shit works. I stretched my back as he moved his way down my neck, and my legs parted a little. Finally he kissed my mouth for the first time, and by inhibitions vanished. I put an arm around his neck, pulled his head towards me, and lay down on his sofa. The next few minutes were filled with kissing, touching, stroking and grinding, in that order. Orlando’s hands went to all of my “innocent” areas first (shoulders, sides, etc.) then to my “intermediate” areas (thighs, stomach). Then, still fully clothed, he positioned his hard dick between my legs while his hand found its way underneath my bikini top. While massaging my breast and nipple, he ground his cock into my wet pussy and rubbed our tongues together.

After rubbing my hands all over his back and sides, I pulled his top up until it was midway up his chest. Eventually he pulled it off altogether, and that’s when clothes started coming off. After his shirt he unfastened my shorts and pulled them off, almost taking my bikini bottoms down with them. Knowing that he was now physically closer to my pussy than ever before, Orlando quickly took his own shorts off, leaving them in a ball at the end of the sofa. The grinding that ensued afterwards was much more intense—his dick was only held back by the thin fabric of his boxers, and it pretty much felt like they weren’t even there. Similarly, his cock didn’t just rub against my groin, he now separated my lips when he pushed into me. He even gave my clit some friction.

“Oh, fuck, put it in! Put it in!” I moaned into his ear.

Orlando didn’t pull his boxers off, he just pulled the elastic down underneath his balls. I pulled my bikini to the side, exposing my freshly-waxed slit. I could feel the wetness on the fabric; could feel the thin strands of cum that extended back to my pussy. Not wasting a minute, Orlando pushed the head of his dick inside, and we both watched as my pussy swallowed the rest of it.

I took a breath and held it while looking back up at him. He felt good inside me—and not just good because he was new. Good because he was thick. I felt my face tighten up (my sex face looks angry) while he pulled back and started fucking me. Right away a couple of things became apparent to me. One, I was right, Orlando knew what the fuck he was doing. And two, I was going to cum really fast, just like I knew he was going to cum fast on Saturday night.

I held my knees up near my shoulders while Orlando took me. A couple of times I let go of one of them, and immediately he grabbed the back of my thigh, never allowing my legs to throw off his rhythm. Occasionally I grabbed the leg back again, but the feeling of his large hands on my thighs was good, so I let him hold it most of the time. He always used his free hands to hold himself up, and kept his lower body hovering in just the right position over my pussy. Once my head hit the armrest I knew I was moving, so I used my arm to press against it so he wouldn’t have to reposition himself. We were able to fuck like that three straight minutes without stopping once. His back must be as laced with steel.

In fact, the only reason we did stop is because I was creaming his dick. When I came I looked down and saw my white girl-juice smearing the bottom of his cock, constantly picking up more every time he pulled out of me. I thought I could suck it up and get fucked all the way through to my next one, but I needed a breather. I gently pushed against him until he stopped and let my legs flop down. My chest rose and fell rapidly, and when he pulled that rod out of me it was fucking coated.

After half a minute or so Orlando pulled my bikini bottom off altogether while I pulled my shirt over my head. The top of my swimsuit was crooked from when he was grabbing my tits earlier, but he left it on. After leaning over to kiss me, Orlando cradled my head with his arm, giving me a “pillow” to rest my head on, and pushed back inside me. This time he only lifted one leg, my left, but his strokes with slower, longer, and more powerful. It didn’t hurt, but it was intense. My head and body rocked hard with each stroke, and each time he pulled me back into him to keep me in place. It was rough, and even though I made him stop after awhile it was still amazing.

Having Orlando in full control of my body like that had its advantages. I definitely tried to squeeze his dick, give back a little. But a few times I just let him take over and lay there. Between his arms and the power behind his dick, he was taking care of it. When I felt my second orgasm building I closed my eyes and let it come without giving any indication to Orlando (outside of my flooding pussy, of course). I don’t know if he figured it out or not, but having him fuck me throughout the entire O almost made me pass out.

Soon after that he pulled it out again, but not for a rest. He made a twirling motion in the air, meaning he wanted to hit it from the back. Quickly I flipped over, eager to see what he felt like from behind, and as soon as my knees hit the cushions he was putting his dick in position. Automatically I arched my back and maneuvered my legs and pussy until it was perfect. Our bodies were aligned, and Orlando started thrusting. I swear, cum must have been leaking out of me like a faucet at that point, especially when he went all in and I felt his balls slap against my clit. My third orgasm came really fast, and I was beyond satisfied. If Orlando came right then and there I would be happy.

He still had a ways to go, though. Just like with all men, the sight of a jiggling ass presents a fork in the road. Do you hold off on cumming a bit longer so you can keep staring at it, or do you just focus on it and cross the finish line? I think Orlando chose the former. He palmed and occasionally shook my ass while we fucked, and a few times he got so worked up I could actually feel his dick get momentarily harder. For the most part my head rested on the armrest, but a few times he got zealous and pushed it to the cushion, fucking my pussy down at an angle. I reached back and rubbed my clit through most of it, shocked at how big and hard it had gotten.

Then Orlando pushed inside of me—all the way inside—and left it in there for a few seconds. The break in the rhythm made me look back at him. He started up again, fucking me fast and hard, then he pulled out and started jacking it, resting his dickhead right in the middle of my ass. I couldn’t see anything, but seconds later hot cum spurted on my back, one shot after another. The first five or six went the furthest, reaching all the way to my neck. After that it sort of just oozed out onto my lower back. Orlando briefly sandwiched his cock in between my ass like a hot dog and jerked his dick dry. Then he leaned over and rested against the back of the sofa while I turned on my side. I didn’t care about getting cum on his furniture, and I’m sure he didn’t, either.

We rested for several minutes in silence. When I finally sat up, he immediately pulled me into him and kissed me. Then we kissed again. Then he started groping my chest and I played with his dick. I was tired, but he pulled me onto his lap and I rode him for another ten minutes, cumming two more times.

Afterwards we showered together and went to his bedroom. After turning on the TV and ordering food, he played with my body while I gently jacked his dick off some more. Since this was just a temporary thing I didn’t want him kissing on me a lot, but I let him get one or two in here or there. After eating I fell asl**p naked on top of the covers. He woke me up at eight, and I dressed and left.

We fucked again on Tuesday and Thursday. Orlando had me in every position he could think of, in every room of the house. We fucked in the kitchen, on top of the stove and on the counter. We fucked in the bathroom after showering. We fucked on the dining room table. We fucked while we were eating. He fucked me from the back while I was brushing my teeth. I even sucked his dick when he was on the phone with the Chinese food restaurant. And the whole time I kept thinking how much of an amateur Rayven was. What she threatened to do, I was actually doing.

I wanted to go over to Orlando’s on Friday, but he didn’t answer my calls, not once out of seven times. I assumed he was with Rayven, and fucked my husband that night instead.

Saturday morning I slept in. Terrance had to go to work, so I had the place all to myself. I got up at ten, poured a bowl of cereal, and ate in front of the TV. There was a knock on the door a few minutes later.

Assuming it was FedEx or UPS, I almost ran to the bedroom to get dressed—I was wearing only panties and one of Terrance’s old T-shirts. But then there was another knock. I didn’t want to miss the package, so I murmured “fuck it” and went to the door. The shirt didn’t quite come low enough to be modest, but I would only be there for a few seconds. If it made the delivery guy’s dick hard, fine.

I ran to the door and opened it quickly. I was stunned to see, not a deliveryman, but Rayven standing on the porch.

The first thing I thought was “she knows” and mentally prepared for the inevitable fight, wanting to kick myself for not looking before I opened the door.

“What the fuck are you doin’ here?” I said calmly.

“I wanna show you somethin’,” she answered, a cruel smile on her face.

“I wanna show you somethin’, too,” I said, giving her the finger. I was just about to close the door when she reached inside an envelope and handed me several 8” X 10” prints. She said nothing as I snatched them from her.

When I looked at the first one, I could feel bl**d drain from my face. My heart slowed down and my hands started to tremble. I flipped to the second one and swallowed hard.

“Wh—what is…where—”

“First things first, bitch. Orlando is not my husband. He ain’t my boyfriend, he ain’t my man. He’s my cousin.”

I looked up from the pictures and stared.

“He brought me to the party so I could celebrate with the executives. I’ve been working with Rodgers for over a year as an outside consultant. I’ve been in their offices and to so many lunches that they figured they might as well hire me on full-time. And they did.”

She paused briefly and looked at me. I couldn’t say anything.

“I knew you didn’t know anything about your husband’s business. I knew you didn’t know anything about the people he worked with. So, at the party, I knew you would assume Orlando and I were together. You don’t know any of the ‘little people’ down at Rodgers, and you don’t care to know them.”

I still couldn’t say anything. It was all true.

“I knew that you would go for Orlando as soon as I said I would fuck your husband. That’s the exact same tit-for-tat bullshit I would expect from you. So I pulled him to the side, told him that some easy pussy was coming his way, and let him play the part.”

I almost choked when she said “easy pussy.”

“And, as I’m sure you already figured out, I paid him to hide four cameras in his living room so that I could see how much of a whore you really are. Not the cheap, grainy cameras you can buy anywhere. No, these are the good, expensive, HD cameras. The kind that give nice, high-quality pictures like these.”

“I—I—” I stammered.

“Come out on the porch, sweetie, I can’t hear you.”

“I—I’m not dressed,” I murmured.

“You dressed enough. Get yo’ ass out here.”

I looked around. The next door neighbor was mowing his lawn. The old woman across the street was sitting on her front porch with her dog, practically looking right at me. There was a couple jogging down the street from the east. Three k**s were riding their bikes from the opposite direction, heading this way. And cars were continually moving up and down the street. The block was hot.

“No,” I said softly.

Rayven dropped the rest of the pictures she had in her hand on the porch. Almost immediately the wind started to ruffle the edges of them, threatening to blow them off the porch and down the street.

“You want me to pick them up?”

“Yeah, please, just—”

“Alright, bitch, then get yo’ ass out here!”

I think my neighbor heard her. He didn’t stop working, but he looked over at us for a long second. Exposed and embarrassed, I tugged on the bottom of Terrance’s shirt and walked barefoot out onto the porch.

“Alright, pick ‘em up before the wind blow ‘em away,” I quickly pleaded.

“You pick ‘em up.”

I did, immediately. As soon as I snatched them up, a strong gust of wind came and swept down the street. Another second and the whole neighborhood would have had photographs of me sucking and fucking Orlando.

“I’ll let you keep those, I can always print more. Not to mention the videos I got.”

“What do you want?” I said, looking around to see who was looking at me.

“Anything I want from you I’ll take. And that includes your husband.”

I could do nothing but stare at her.

“I never touched him, by the way. The tattoos? He told me about 'em, with six other people at the table with us. His c***d? All those other details I know? He told us. All of us. Everything else, like his address, is in the company records, which I have access to. It’s not a secret, Keisha. I just threw the big dick thing in to fuck with your head.”

I felt like a complete idiot. Terrance always told me I jumped to conclusions. I tugged at my shirt again and looked over at my neighbor. He didn’t seem to be looking at me, but it was hard to tell.

“But I wasn’t k**din’ about what I said last Saturday. I’m gonna fuck him. He’s been holdin’ back, but he wants it. You should see the way he looks at me, Keisha. I’m gonna fuck your man, make him eat my pussy, and then I’m gonna call you and tell you I did it. And you won’t say anything. You won’t say a damn word.”

A tear rolled down my face.

“I think I remind him of you a little. His faithful wife. Well, not so much so anymore.” She handed me the envelope with the rest of the pictures. “Except I’m a couple of years younger. Better-looking, too.”

Another tear.

“Yeah, I know there’s no accountin’ for taste. But I think we can agree on one thing: I’m definitely smarter than you.”

I wiped my eyes with my hands and looked away from her.

“I don’t think I need to tell you that Orlando don’t wanna fuck you anymore. He’s got plenty of other hoes waitin’ to throw it at him. Understand?”

I nodded.

“The whole neighborhood lookin’ at you, Keisha. You don’t need to walk around with yo’ ass out to get attention. Don’t you have some class?”

I said nothing. All I could think about was all the mistakes I made over the last week.

“I think I want you to stand there for a minute. Let everybody see you standin’ in yo’ underwear. Give ‘em somethin’ to talk about. Don’t even think about goin’ back inside, either, or I’ll paper this neighborhood with your pictures. Got it?”

“Yeah,” I sobbed.

“GOT IT?!”

“Yeah!”

I stood there for over five minutes, wiping my eyes while people walked and rode up and down the street. Rayven looked at me smugly, waiting for me to defy her. I didn’t dare.

“Alright, you can go back inside now. Don’t ever talk to me or my cousin again, bitch. Do not test me.”

I quickly went inside and locked the door behind me. Thoroughly shaken, I spent the day in bed, wondering how the fuck I could be so stupid. And wondering what would happen between Terrance and her. It’s something I still worry about to this day.
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2 years ago
hahahaha