Shame on It All Read online

  He reeled around quickly, walked up to me, pushed his hips up against mine, forced my ass up against the pool table, looked deep into my eyes, and snarled, “Yeah? Well the feeling’s mutual.”

  I reached my hand up to slap his trick ass across the face. He caught my wrist before impact. I tried to slap him with the other one. He got a hold of it, too. Then…

  …We started tonguing the shit out each other. Don’t get me wrong. I did hate his ass at that very moment. I just wanted to fuck him unconscious, too.

  We tore into each other like animals. Troy let go of my wrists. I threw my arms around him, pulling his tongue deeper into my mouth. I’ve never wanted anyone as bad as I wanted him. Trick ass.

  He pushed my dress up over my hips, lifted my ass onto the table while I straddled my legs around his back, using my calves to pull him onto the table with me.

  We were both breathing radically heavy as we continued the kiss. He elevated me and sat me farther back on the table, darting his eyes back and forth while he pushed all the balls out the way. He grabbed my wrists again and forced my back on the table. The entire time, we never stopped kissing. It was like our tongues were stuck together.

  We both shut our eyes and got lost in each other, letting all the passion mixed with anger erupt through our tongues.

  My legs were still straddled around his back when Troy finally decided to take a breather. He started ripping at my dress, pulling both spaghetti straps down at the same time so he could get at my nipples.

  He starting sucking on my left one, burying his nose completely into it. I was moaning loudly, which was unusual for me. I’m normally extremely quiet during lovemaking. It was different with Troy because we weren’t making love. We were making hate.

  He was holding me down. The shit wasn’t even necessary ’cause my ass wasn’t going anywhere. We heard some footsteps overhead, someone bound for the powder room probably. I broke one of my hands loose, started pulling his shorts down from the rear. I wanted some dick and I wanted it bad.

  Troy stopped sucking on my breast and helped me get his shorts down and off. He didn’t take the time to pull my panties down over my legs. He ripped those suckers clear off. He got down off the table, leaving me there breathing shallow, walked around to the other side, and started sucking my breasts upside down while he climbed on top of me.

  He grabbed both of them, squeezed hard, and pushed them upward toward his face. He released them, moved his head farther south, and bit all over my stomach on his way down to my pussy. His body began to overshadow mine until his dick slapped me in the forehead.

  I grabbed hold of it like a leech, started deep-throating that bad boy. He spread my legs open and began sucking on my clit, digging his whole face in. I lifted my hips up off the table, grinding my pussy onto his face while he pumped his dick in and out my mouth.

  He paused just long enough to make a lewd comment. “That’s right. Knock them balls around.”

  I pushed his dick out of my mouth and reconfirmed what I’d said earlier. “I fucking hate you.”

  He laughed. “The feeling’s mutual.” Then, he started sucking on my pussy again.

  I decided to fix his ass and tried to suck his dick the hell off. I thought he would scream out in pain but he loved the shit. So, I bit him. He retaliated and bit me.

  I pushed his ass off me and came up swinging. He pinned my arms down and hollered, “Chill! Dayum!”

  I wasn’t taking any more of his shit. I started kicking and hitting him with all the strength I could muster. He finally managed to get control of the situation again. I submitted to him, but only because he had rammed his dick inside me and it was all that.

  He wasn’t hung like a bear but his dick was thick, just like I like them. I favor dicks that won’t knock the bottom out the well but will rub the hell out the walls. He tore my little coochie-coo up.

  Troy pushed my legs up as far as they would go and I wrapped my ankles around his neck. He started pounding his dick in and out of my pussy walls. I came the first time about two minutes into the act.

  I was kind of repentant, fucking a stranger in a friend’s basement and all, but not disgraced enough to stop. He pulled his dick out and whispered in my ear, “Turn my pussy over so I can hit it from the back.”

  I obediently turned over and got on my knees. He started catapulting his dick in and out of me. “Your pussy? Fuck you, Troy. You trick ass.”

  He laughed again. I hated it when he laughed. “Yeah, fuck me. Fuck me like you hate me.” Then as an afterthought, he added, “Oh, that’s right. You do hate me.”

  He snatched my hair, compelling me to arch my back and bring my pussy farther back onto his dick. I could feel his balls slamming up against my thighs. My pussy juice was dripping down on the felt cover of the pool table.

  We fucked for a good hour. I had never seen a man who took so long to bust a nut before. I think some extra blood must have dashed to his dick ’cause he was so full of anger.

  Finally, and I do mean finally, he detonated inside me like a nuclear bomb. By the time he came, my pussy was inflamed and my knees were stinging from being in the doggy position for so long. We fucked for so long, the CD I’d put on was finished playing and the changer had switched over to the next one.

  Lamar opened the basement door and shouted down the steps. “You okay down there, Bryce?”

  After catching my breath, I hollered back, “I’m fine, thanks! I’ll be up in a minute!”

  We heard the door shut and Lamar’s footsteps as he walked away. Lamar was no fool. He knew the deal.

  I somehow regained my self-control, got my clothes adjusted, scooped my torn panties up off the floor, and shoved them in my pocketbook. I didn’t say another word to Troy. I left his ass lying there, half-naked on the pool table.

  When I got back outside, I grabbed Colette by the arm and told her it was time to go. She didn’t put up a fight. We told everyone good-bye and left. She tried to grill me in the car about what had happened in the basement. I cranked up the radio and refused to comment.

  The Response

  “Why are you looking at me like that?” Bryce was pleased with herself, knowing there was no way in the world that they could top that. “I warned you it was some wild-ass shit.”

  “Hmmm, that was mediocre,” Harmony stated snidely.

  “Mediocre?” Bryce was astonished.

  “It was aiight,” Lucky wholeheartedly agreed, taking another bite of her food.

  Bryce took a quick inventory of the expressions on both their faces and it was painfully obvious that no one was impressed.

  “Bryce,” Harmony interjected. “Sleeping with roughnecks and playas is nothing new for you. Less than an hour ago, you were throwing yourself at the bartender.”

  “Whatever!”

  “I’m serious. You slept with a guy at the BBQ, totally disrespected yourself, and the messed-up part is you will probably fuck him again the second he comes sniffing around.”

  “I’m getting tired of doing this, but here goes.” Bryce vehemently flipped Harmony the finger. “First of all, Troy doesn’t even have my phone number. Secondly, I’m living with George, and thirdly, I wouldn’t fuck Troy again if my life depended on it. Not in this lifetime.”

  “You know that mofo is destined to get your number from Lamar so he can make some late-night booty calls at your crib,” Lucky commented as if from experience.

  “I’m dead serious,” Bryce insisted. “That was a one-shot deal. I hate his trick ass. I was just horny as hell that weekend. I would fuck a nucca with a peg leg before I let Troy tap this again.”

  Lucky and Harmony exchanged looks. They both knew Bryce was lying her ass off. They knew if the nucca showed up at her door with a Happy Meal and a Coke that she would spread ’em. Especially the way she was bragging on his dick.

  “N-E-Way, I refuse to believe ya’ll outfreaked me. I’m willing to keep an open mind about this, but I won’t believe it till you lay it all out.”


  Lucky and Harmony grinned at each other as if they shared some deep, dark secret.

  “A deal is a damn deal. Your turn, Harmony. Let’s hear about how Sistah Harmony, Grand Priestess of the D.C. Chapter of the Sexually Repressed, got her freak on.”

  “Yeah, let’s hear it,” Lucky chuckled.

  “Fine. You both know Fatima,” Harmony stated more as a comment than a question.

  “Hell yeah, we know Fatima. Ya’ll been best friends forever.” Lucky was getting impatient. “Can you just tell your story sometime today please?”

  “I’m about to tell it right now, but you might want to hold on to your seats. What happened to me is unfuckenbelievable!”

  “Whatever,” Bryce snarled, hoping Harmony wasn’t about to take her Freak of the Whitfield Clan title away from her.

  3

  That’s What Friends Are For

  “Harmony, will you fuck my husband for me?”

  When Fatima blurted it out, over club sandwiches and chips in the cozy café where we meet for lunch twice a week, I thought my ears were playing tricks on me. I took a good look at the expression on her face and realized she was as serious as a heart attack.

  “What the fuck are you talking about, Sis?”

  “I want out of this marriage. Javon is nothing but a low-down, cheating-ass dog and I’m sick of it.” Fatima was all but in tears as she continued. I was speechless. “I know he’s cheating on me. I’ve been trying to catch his ass in the act for over a year now. Spying on him, going through his pockets, listening in on phone calls. I even hired a private detective. All to no avail.”

  “Then how do you know he’s cheating if you’ve never caught him?”

  “I can smell the bitch all over him. He comes home covered in her perfume, smelling like pussy. I hate his ass soooooo much. You’re my last resort.”

  “Fatima, I can’t fuck your husband. What’s wrong with you?” I didn’t realize our waiter had just walked up to the table to ask whether we needed anything else. His eyes widened. I knew he had overheard my last statement.

  After we told him everything was delicious and we didn’t need anything else, I went on, “You and I have been friends since junior high. How in the hell are you going to sit here and ask me to do some shit like that?”

  “That’s exactly why I’m asking you, because you’re the only one I can trust. I thought about hiring some hooker or call girl, but I’m not sure it would work. He may not go for it and I need him to go for it. You see, if I set his ass up and get proof, I can get out this marriage and walk away with everything. If I just up and leave him, I’ll get nothing at all. I fully intend to live the lifestyle to which I am accustomed. Minus the asshole, of course.”

  I couldn’t believe she was saying such things. Talking about it so casually, you would think she was talking about the next meeting at the garden club. My best friend, my sister-in-arms, the light of my life who has always been there for me through thick and thin. Fatima has always stood by me, through the darkest of times, when no one else was around. “Fatima, I don’t think you’re thinking clearly, Sis. Don’t get me wrong. I love you more than life itself and would take a bullet for you, but fuck your husband?”

  “Please, Sis. I’m begging you.” The desperation on her face and the panic in her voice made me want to break out in tears.

  There was nothing else for me to do at that point but agree. I always said I would do anything for her. It was time to put up or shut up.

  We left the restaurant and took a walk in the park nearby. We sat down on a bench and hashed out the plan while pigeons waddled all around us looking for some sort of nutritional substance.

  I asked the obvious question first. “You said you don’t think he would go for a hooker or a call girl, so what makes you think he would go for me?”

  “I see the way he looks at you, and besides, the danger of it all will turn him on. I know his skank ass!” She did have a point. I had often caught him staring at my breasts and trying to make eye contact. In all the years they had been married, he had never made an obvious pass at me though.

  “But doesn’t he know if he makes a play for me, I’ll run straight to you and spill it?”

  “That’s the tricky part. You have to make a play for him and make him go for it at all costs. Convince him you want him so bad, you are willing to betray me for the dick.”

  To say I was in shock would be an understatement. My best friend and I were sitting on a park bench talking about the best way for me to seduce her husband. The craziest part was me accepting the challenge. I’d never done something so raw before. “Fatima, you sure there’s no other way?”

  “Harmony, you know I would never put you in this position unless I had to. Please, Sis. It has to be like this. It has to.”

  With those words, it was a done deal. She and I talked about it for another half hour or so before we hugged and kissed each other on the cheek and parted ways. It was Wednesday.

  Thursday and Friday, my mind was wandering all over the place. I started to pick up the phone and call Fatima a thousand times to tell her there was no way I could go through with it. Then I thought about the pain on her face and how, over the years since her marriage, she had seemed more and more depressed and I never knew why. If she was hell-bent on getting a divorce, she deserved to walk away set for life. He could afford it and there was no reason for him not to pay. He should pay for hurting her, for cheating on her, for disrespecting her.

  Then Saturday rolled around, Memorial Day weekend. The day another close friend, Camisha, was having a surprise birthday party for her boyfriend. I attended the party alone that night since Zachary and I had broken up the month before. We were trying to work things out, but technically, I was unattached. I wouldn’t be the one cheating; Javon would.

  I was a nervous wreck, hoping I could pull it off. Would a man really attend a party with his wife and sneak off to get a quickie? With his wife’s best friend at that? There was only one way to find out. Only one of two things could happen. He would go for it and get mad busted or try to run back to her and accuse me of trying to get with him. Either way, I had nothing to lose.

  When I arrived at the party, most of the guests were already there, including Fatima and Javon. Camisha greeted me and I gave her the wrapped present I’d bought for her man, a nice tie rack and two silk ties. We chatted briefly as she escorted me out to the backyard where everyone was having cocktails by the pool. She had hired a disc jockey, who was playing some old-school jams for us baby boomers. A few couples were dancing but most people were just chilling. I figured, like most parties, the situation would change once they got a few drinks in them. After the alcohol kicks in, people forget about acting prim and proper and start shaking their asses like they’re back in high school.

  Before Camisha walked off to find her lover man, she hugged me, whispering in my ear, “Everything is set up in the pool house, just like we planned.” All I could do was manage a slight grin.

  I needed a drink with a quickness. I thought Fatima was going to take care of everything herself. Come to find out she had Camisha involved in the shit, too. I began to wonder who else knew about the plan and wondered had Camisha told her man. Hell, for all I knew, everyone at the whole dayum party was in on it except Javon. I located the bar and asked for a double Scotch.

  Fatima and Javon were standing on the lawn talking to another couple when I went over and hugged them both. Everything had to appear normal. If she and I avoided one another, Javon would pick up on it. I started flirting with a few men who had also come to the party alone, some friends of the honoree who are all pro football players like him.

  The night went on without a glitch. It was all good. As suspected, people started getting freaky on the dance floor. They even got a couple of Soul Train lines going. As planned, Fatima went into the main house to make an imaginary phone call home to ask the nanny if the kids were okay and in bed. It was time for me to make my move.

  I pret
ended to be tore up from the floor and strutted right over to Javon with a bottle of Scotch in my hand. Fatima had left him sitting alone on a lawn chair. I leaned over and whispered in his ear, “Meet me in the pool house because I need to talk to you. It’s important.”

  I walked off toward the pool house, which was set off by itself away from the central party activities. In fact, it had gotten cool outside and most people were migrating toward the house anyway. Things were working out even better than we’d planned.

  I reached the pool house and searched for the camcorder I already knew was there. I had to get it on before Javon showed up, if he showed up. You see, the strategy was for me to seduce him, get the entire thing on tape, and then Fatima was going to lie and tell him Camisha had later unearthed the tape. She was going to tell him Camisha left a camcorder in the pool house so they could make home pornos from time to time, and somehow it must have been voice-activated and started taping all by itself. It was a far-out plan, but oftentimes, it’s the unthinkable shit that actually works because people never see it coming.

  I located the camcorder hidden in an armoire between some rolled-up beach towels. It was aimed directly at the bed, which was bejeweled with tropical-printed blankets and pillows. The camcorder would be able to pick up everything in the small, cozy place. I didn’t plan to make it a long, drawn-out process, just do the dirt and get out. It couldn’t last long anyway because Javon would have to rush back and find Fatima so she wouldn’t be worried about him. All of it was dependent on whether his ass showed up though.

  I was just about to presume Javon wasn’t coming when I heard the door slowly creak open. He entered the pool house. He was obviously drunk as all hell, which would make things a lot simpler. Fatima had said she would get him to down several drinks since she knew he lost his senses when he was drunk and didn’t handle liquor well.

  Time was of the essence. As soon as he closed the door behind him, I went for it before I lost my chutzpah. I threw Javon up against the door, started kissing him. At first, he hesitated, but then he started to reciprocate. After a few seconds of tongue-tangling, he pushed me away, moved away from the doorway with his back to the bed, and asked, “What the hell is this? I thought you wanted to talk about Fatima.”