The Hairdresser

Vixen LaCroix was late for her 2 o’clock press and curl. She could only imagine the heat she was going to catch from Olivia if she didn’t show up. The hairdresser was known to get cross with clients who disturbed the tranquility of her schedule. Clients had been let go for such crimes. That’s right, Olivia leaves you, you never leave her. Thankful for the empty space out front of the shop, Vixen parked her Beamer. Jumping out of the car, she dashed in with her excuses already.

“Olivia, I am so sorry. That crazy client of mine just would not leave me…” Vixen trailed off noting the silence. Most of the women were focused on the back area of the shop, where the sinks were. They were mesmerized by something – or someone.

“What’s going on?” she asked the sister at the desk.

“Olivia got a new ‘dresser today,” the girl with the lime green contacts whispered.

“What’s so big about that?”

“Child, wait to you see him.”

“Him? Twain let her bring in another dude. There must’ve been a cat fight.”

“Twain ran off with Raquel’s fiancé.”

“What?”

“Girl, shh, he coming.”

At the alert, all business resumed. Vixen returned her eyes to the arch leading to the back and was thrown ten paces when he emerged. He was gorgeous. Athletically cut in all the right places. Tall like sugar cane. His rolled up sleeves revealed two Celtic arm bands that looked so hot against his freshly tanned skin. His fingers were long and strong. His dark blond hair looked stylishly bedraggled, giving his hazel eyes an even dreamier look. He could’ve been clipped from an Armani ad in GQ magazine. What the hell was he doing in Olivia’s salon?

At the moment, he was leading old Lady Watson to his station, but she was certainly not her usual grumpy self. She looked more like a school girl as she tried to talk his ear off. He was polite, listening intently, rubbing her hair dry with a towel. Once the woman was settled into her seat, he took his post behind her, where the women were treated to a new view. For a white boy, he had a lil’ booty poking out from beneath them worn-in jeans by the way the girls sighed and shook their heads. Even Vixen was impressed.

Suddenly, she felt flush and had the urge to fan herself. Glancing up, she noticed him looking directly at her through the mirror. His eyes roved over her whole body before settling over her cocoa eyes. His sexy smile deepened even more. Was he checking me out?

“Vixen!” a shrill voice called out to her, causing her to jump from her trance.

Wincing, she turned around to face the petite shop owner with the killer afro. “Olivia, hey girl– “

“Unh-ah, you twenty minutes late.”

“I know, I know. But I couldn’t get away from Spendzilla. She practically wanted everything in the boutique. I had to pry this pretty ensemble from her clutches just… for… you.”

Olivia’s eyes lit upon the violet satin mini caftan. “Is that the one from India?”

“The very same,” Vixen sing-songed waving the material before her like a hypnotist. She knew she had the woman as soon as her eyes touched the outfit.

“I guess I can purify the air a little to forgive this one transgression. And that’s because your big girl clothes are the shit,” Olivia gushed. “But you don’t get off completely unscathed. Since I already started on Loretta, I’m going to have to get someone else.”

“Oh Via, no!”

“Colin!”

Did she say Colin? Suddenly, hot vanilla came strolling over after tucking tittery Old Lady Watson under the dryer. He was quick with some rollers; that was for sure.

“What can I do for you, queen?” He threw an arm around Olivia, which made the beautician giggle.

“You too cute. Vixen here needs a wash and style. Now, Kiera said that was your specialty.”

“Kiera? Kiera Jeans?” Vixen asked intrigued. She knew of the hairstylist well. Word had it, she was the hairstylist for the Minx whenever she popped into the ATL.

“Yeah, I apprenticed with her for three years after a stint doing hair in my mom’s salon.” His eyes roamed her body, causing the heat to rise.

“Colin has been pressing and curling since he was nine. And with that slut Twain running off at the worst possible time–“ A loud shriek halted her next words. “Raquel, now, stop that crying!” Olivia ran off toward the back to calm her grieving manicurist, leaving Vixen and Colin to get acquainted.

“So, how can I service you?”

Butt-naked with a box of Trojans and a free afternoon. “Uh, just a wash and style,” Vixen said following him to the back.

“Vixen? Now that is an interesting name.” Colin wrapped a small towel about her neck before draping the black cover over her torso.

“My parents are a bit on the eccentric side.”

“And you own a boutique?”

“Vixen’s. We sell the best in big boned fashion,” she beamed proudly. “I just inked a deal to be the inclusive carrier for Double D’s newest collection, Décolletage.”

“My mother loves that line. After six kids, she couldn’t quite get her figure back, but my daddy doesn’t seem to mind. He pays to make sure she looks good,” he chuckled. “Maybe I could stop in for a look.”

“Come anytime. I mean, come whenever you… So, you come from a big family? Wow, six kids.” She was blathering like an idiot.

“Three boys, three girls. A regular ol’ Brady Bunch. We even had a Tiger when we were growing up.”

“No sir!” she laughed easing back into the sink.

“Yes ma’am.” His fingers began to massage her temples sensuously, putting her into a relaxed state she had never been in before. Tingles of rich pleasure rippled down her neck into her body – and he hadn’t even hit the back of her head yet. Damn, she sighed to herself. These were some heavenly digits. As they spread over her scalp, they were hitting spots she hadn’t realized had any feeling.

She audibly moaned. “I take it you liked that.”

Vixen gasped, opening her eyes after realizing her moan was not internal. “I… am… so sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. It was compliment,” he smirked, his hazel eyes capturing hers. “Not many people realize the scalp is a huge erogenous zone.”

“Really?” Vixen sighed, easing back into the lull. His fingers began to delve deep into the mass of her raven locks, building up the lather. That wasn’t the only thing getting built up. With each movement, Vixen could feel it other places. As he slid his hand down the back of her head, her clit felt the motion and tingled. Her legs immediately crossed to quell the need. Then he began to run tiny circles along the sides, which caused her nipples to coil tightly. She prayed her bra was padded enough to hide the peaks.

She opened her eyes and saw that he was still staring at her. The heat from his eyes was intensifying all the feelings his fingers were evoking in her body. He leaned closer allowing his scent to cloud her nose. Shit, he smelled good. She imagined herself licking him up like an ice cream cone on the hottest summer day. She took in a breath, but was hard pressed to let it go. Her eyes fell on his pouty lips, wishing he would wrap those bad boys around her swollen clit right now to easy off this ache.

“Is that good for you?” he asked, huskily as he poured clean water over her head. All Vixen could do was nod. The lump in her throat was making speech impossible. He smiled wickedly, then licked his lips like LL Cool J. She almost lost her mind. Instead she finally released that exhale she had been gripping onto. Next was the conditioner. He massaged the creamy lotion into her scalp, working those digits double time as he hand comb it through her hair. Vixen’s eyes peered down his shirt and realized he didn’t have a tank on. She could make out a rosy, pierced nipple on a sturdy, hairless pec. She licked her lips hungrily wanting to slip it between her teeth and tug. She heard those gadgets made the area more sensitive to touch and she was dying to find out.

Colin rinsed her head again, waking her from her dreaming. Once the cream had washed out, he leaned over her to grab a fresh towel. Easing her up from the sink, he gently ran the cloth over her head.

“C’mon over to my station, sweetie.”

Vixen’s eyes glanced up at the ceiling. Lord, give the strength not to soil that man’s chair. Colin helped her into the seat and began to pump it up. Their eyes met over at the mirror and Vixen felt a blush come over her. He began to comb through the tangles like a pro (with the big tooth comb), then he ran her hair through with some Argon oil.

“You have really gorgeous hair,” he complimented, parting it in sections. “You aren’t on that creamy crack, are you?”

“What you know about the creamy crack?”

“I’m a hairdresser, ain’t I?” he teased, making her blush further. “I know it’s a crock.”

“Speak for yourself, Colin.”

Colin chuckled huskily leaning closer to Vixen’s ear. “Cora’s mad ‘cause I’ve turned two of her clients off the stuff.”

Vixen giggled. She had never used the stuff, not with her pro-Black momma touting the virtues of their natural curls. “Well, it is a business and you cutting into her money.”

“I can’t stand by a business that ruins real beauty.” He stated firmly as his eyes met hers in the mirror, sending another round of tingles down her way. “That’s why I loved Kiera’s. She banned relaxer use in her salon two years ago. Her business doubled within the year with girls looking to go natural.”

“So besides a good bump and curl, what else do you know – Colin?” she asked curiously, her eyes roaming his body as his had done earlier.

He smirked wickedly again. “I know a lot. I can twist it, curl it, press it, weave it, fade it, clip it with nothing but skill.”

“Ok, show me.”

“Whatever you wish – Vixen.” The way he said her name sent more tingles down her body and she actually squirmed a little.

For the next hour, Vixen watched as Colin did things to her head that was pure hair seduction. He blew it out with such finesse and care she could’ve walked out then and there and been good for the runway. But he didn’t stop there. Oh no, Colin went for the kill and curled her head into a ‘do Beyoncé would’ve paid top dollar for. The way his fingers twirled her locks reminded her of a lover playing in the folds of beloved. He was completely fixated on bending her head to his will. And she was looking hot while he did it. Not just hot; fucking hot. She sat mesmerized by the person staring back at her. Who is she? Oh, that’s right, it’s me. As he finished up, she glanced around salon and saw that all the sisters had the same look on their face: Whoa!

“All set, sweetness. Will you come see me again?” he asked handing her the slip – and his card.

Vixen felt bold. Must be the hair. She leaned closer, taking one last smell of him and handing over her card. “Only if you come see me.”

He glanced down at her card and smiled. “I just might.”

Vixen exhaled again before turning to pay the receptionist. As soon as she walked out the shop, she heard a chorus of shouts. “Colin, I got next.” “Bitch, you just got here. I got next.” “Do me, Colin!”

Once Vixen was in the safety of her car, she realized something. What was she thinking making such an invitation like that to a man she just met? Child, he probably gayer than Twain. He does sistahs’ hair. She rested her head against the steering wheel. You just played yourself stupid. Shaking it off, she rolled out back to the boutique, hoping to shed her shame.

Her staff held down the afternoon crowd like pros. She had come back to find some hefty sales on the register, meaning her day was done and her goals were surpassed. As the sun drifted down into the horizon, Vixen drew the curtains on her shop. Ever since leaving Olivia’s salon she had been feeling fiercely sexy and wanted to celebrate. Her body was a mass of tingles and her mind kept replaying Colin’s sexy smile over and over. Her eyes caught herself in the mirror. She was looking too good to stay in tonight. Glancing over at the racks, she decided to pull out a sexy number. That was one of the perks of owning your own shop.

She put on a slinky little animal print number that molded to her ferocious curves and paired them with some funky sky-high heels. Walking out the back, she gave herself the once over in the large store mirror. While doing so, she had the distinct feeling she was being watched. Glancing into the mirror’s reflection, she saw Colin standing at the door accentuated by the street lamp. She whirled around catching her breath.

What’s he doing at my door? Curiosity pulled her forward. She stood there with the glass between them staring at him. He looked delectable in a leather riding jacket, holding his helmet. Her heart raced a mile a second. Swallowing the growing lump, she unlocked the door.

“Colin? What can I do for you?” she asked, curiously.

“I thought your instructions were explicit enough,” he smiled. “You’d see me, if I come see you.”

Vixen’s heart skipped and dipped. “Oh, I did say that, didn’t I?”

His eyes studied her outfit hard. He even blew out a silent whistle of appreciation. “I guess I’m a little late to ask you for a moonlight ride.”

“If you give me two seconds, I can make the switch,” she assured him.

“I don’t want to interrupt your plans.”

“What plans? Hold that thought.” She ran into the back, throwing off the outfit and slipping on a pair of fitted jeans and a violet top. She threw on her leather boots and nabbed her leather biker jacket off the hook. Thankful she had made the purchase last winter. She barreled out of the back, slowing up to saunter the rest of the way.

“I’m ready.”

Colin turned at the sound of her voice and inhaled deeply. “Not yet.” He lifted his hand which had a black elastic band around it. He stepped forward motioning her to turn around. “I can’t let this hair go to waste.”

Vixen laughed as he tied her hair into a gorgeous ponytail. Once he was set, she turned to face him. Their lips were mere inches from one another. She could smell his breath, laced with the mint from his gum. She looked up into his hazel eyes and felt like she was going to melt. Without warning, he leaned in and brushed his lips against hers and it was an instant spark. It was sweet and gentle. She could now taste the mint and relished it like it was a good glass of julep. The kiss deepened bringing his velvety tongue into play. She felt the texture all over her body, right down to her toes. Vixen wrapped her arms around his neck, drawing him closer.

Colin pulled regretfully away with a heavy sigh. “C’mon, sweetness. Before the moonlight gets away from us.”

“We could just stay in,” she volunteered.

He chuckled huskily before drawing her against him. “I want to take you star gazing.”

Taking her hand, he dragged her out of the shop, giving her a second to lock up for the night. Vixen turned and nearly lost her breath when she got a look at his ride. It was a classic, custom motorcycle that looked like a butched up version of the bike in Purple Rain. It was black with serious chrome details that blinged in the light. There was a large storage bin in the back holding a picnic basket, blanket and wine. A giggle crossed her lips as she came forward. She had always fantasized about being Apollonia and some Prince would come and sweep her away. He better not be taking her to the sewage plant, she mused. Colin handed her a helmet. Once she was secured, he helped her onto the bike, then mounted himself. He kicked the ignition on with a resounding vroom then drove off.

Vixen held onto his waist snuggly while enjoying the views by the moonlight. His scent kept filling her nostrils drowning out the smell of gas. They were heading out of the city limits into the country. She saw signs for the lake and felt her stomach leap. Were they going watch the stars by the lake? He was definitely kicking the game. Colin drove the bike up a secluded hill overlooking the lake. The moon was high in the sky illuminating the shadows romantically.

Parking the bike by a willow tree, he dismounted then helped her off the bike, allowing her to remove the helmet and take in the view. Grabbing the large maroon quilt strapped on the bike, he laid it out on the grass then motion Vixen to relax. He retrieved the hefty picnic basket and placed it down between them.

“This place is pretty. I bet you take all your special clients here,” she surmised glancing at him sideways.

Colin snorted, shaking her head. “Hate to burst your bubble, but most sisters think I’m gay. So, I’m sorry to disappoint you but I don’t have a Casanova bone in my body. I just know what I like and I don’t beat around the bush to get it.” He leaned back on the quilt studying the lake then looked up. “Besides, I wanted to show you this.”

Vixen glanced up and caught her breath. The stars were twinkling like diamonds on a velvet blanket.  “Oh my. I’ve never gone star gazing before.”

“I used to sit on my Pop-pop’s old Coupe de Ville and watch shooting stars all the time. There’s supposed to be a bunch tonight.”

“Oh my God, there’s one now!” She pointed up, her voice laced with excitement and wonder.

“Hope you brought an appetite?” he asked, pulling little Tupperware containers from the basket. Vixen eyed him with humor. “I had a client who sold these. She swears by’em.”

“Is that potato salad, homemade mac and cheese, and chicken tenders?” she asked sliding closer. “Let me guess, you got a client who owns a restaurant?”

“No. Made these myself,” he beamed taking a scoop of tater salad to feed her. Vixen took a healthy bite then licked her lips appreciatively, rolling her eyes from the burst of flavor.

“Colin, you better watch out. You’re jockeying to be a triple threat.”

“How so?” he asked scooping up some for himself.

“You do hair, you cook and you are one very, very sexy man,” she boasted leaning in to kiss his lips.

“I’m aiming to be Man of the Year,” he teased, handing her a glass of wine.

Vixen took a bite of chicken and squealed with pleasure. It was crispy, juicy and delicious. “How did you do that? These are soooo good.”

“A chef never gives away his secret.” He leaned on his elbow watching her feast on his meal. She looked beautiful against the moonlight. Her high cheekbones framed lush, glossy lips, made all the more tempting as she chewed the tenders. “But I could be persuaded.”

“Really now?” she sighed leaning forward. Her breasts rolled forward in her tank top drawing his hot hazel eyes down to the décolletage. “And how can I persuade the information from you.”

“You’re making a good start,” he sighed pulling her over him to slash her mouth across his.

Fire ignited deep within Vixen sparking her blood. His lips were doing things to her that hands couldn’t even do. He tasted and teased all at the same time. He pulled the elastic out of her hair and dug his fingers into the mass of freshly washed curls. They pressed certain points on her scalp making her moan deliciously against his mouth. Soon the stars and food were forgotten as he pulled her jacket over her shoulders, trailing hot kisses along them.

“Ooo Colin.” Her voice was raspy with need as she felt his hands mold her booty firmly. Her core pressed hotly against his engorged shaft. If this is what it felt like with his jeans between them, she could only imagine when he was naked.

“You are too tempting to resist, Vixen,” he admitted rolling her onto her back to study her. Her hair spread out on the blanket like a silk scarf. He admired his work like an artist would his muse. His hand trailed from the loose lock to her arms pimpled with gooseflesh. “You cold, baby?”

“I’m sure you can fix that,” she sighed pulling him back onto her body. And sure enough, his body fired her blood, staving off the cold air.

He nuzzled her neck, tasting the sweetness there before uncovering a stiffened nipple. His lips immediately sought the flesh, twirling it over his tongue slowly, savoring its flavor on his buds. He relished the texture, its softness. It was a herald of what was to come. Vixen clutched his shoulders to steady herself. He shrugged out of his heavy biker jacket tossing it on the other side of the blanket next to hers. Not once did he break contact with her skin. He unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it right next to the now growing pile of clothes.

Vixen looked down the lengthy, muscle filled expanse of back and she thought she’d pass out. Damn, he has to be working out like crazy to be etched like this. He looked down at her, breathless, as if he just completed one of those works. There was a determination in those hazel depths that shook Vixen to the core.

“I have this overwhelming urge to taste you, sweetness,” he panted, his fingers undoing the buttons of her jeans.

Vixen bit her lips trying to keep a moan from slipping out. All she could do was nod her head, granting him permission. However, with the way he was looking at her, she highly doubted he would be denied a taste of her snatch. Vixen fell back against the blanket, feeling her jeans ease down her long, curvy legs. He then fingered her lacy black thong, appreciating the material’s softness. He pulled them down her leg as well, but instead of tossing them on the pile he pocketed them.

Vixen laughed at the gesture. “Now I’m gonna have to take something of yours.”

Colin smiled nudging her knees apart preparing to dive into her pool. “You can have anything you want, but I think you already snatched something… “

“What’s that?”

“My will to resist.” He dipped his head between her thighs and took a long sip of her clit. A sigh of pleasure escaped Vixen’s lips curling into the night air. The feel of his cool lips against her hot puss was causing more of an ache then quelling it. His tongue laved all around, getting to know each and every corner of her nethers and beyond. It was like he wanted to imprint her taste forever on his buds. Vixen felt like her puss was getting wetter by the second as he continued his oral stroke. It had been a long while since someone had visited her temple this way. One year, five months and two days. But who was really counting.

Suddenly, a dam broke inside of her. The steady tension he was building had shaken the rafters clear of the cobwebs and caused a ripple through her. Vixen raised her hips bearing into the wave of her first orgasm.  Her head bantered back and forth on the blanket as she gripped firmly to the blanket. He guided her back down to earth, but didn’t let her rest too long.

She felt him push her shirt up and over her head. Still dazed from the first shock, she could just hear the faint, familiar tear of tin wrapper. She glanced over to see him slide on the condom. Her eyes widened at the size of his dick. Good God, someone must’ve had jungle fever in his family to inherit that masterpiece. Dare she say, it had to be the prettiest penis she had ever seen? Long, definitely long, but with a mass and hefty that fit its nature. And he most definitely waxed it bare. Vixen was tempted to grab it and taste it like he had done her, but her puss was fighting to swallow it first.

Wait your turn, she felt it throb.

Colin leaned over her gently. He drew closer to her ears, kissing the lobes softly. “Did you like that?”

She whimpered her affirmation as she wrapped her legs around his waist. His hand gripped her thigh possessively as he nudged his member between her depths. Just the tip, then pulled back. Vixen already missed it. He pushed into her again, this time further, but before she had a chance to grip it, he backed out again. She growled in frustration. His lips descended on hers trying to ease it, but there was no substitute for it. She tried to pull him in, but he had the advantage of being on top. Suddenly, he pushed his dick all the way to the hilt, causing Vixen to yelp in the most delicious pain she’d ever felt. He filled her completely. There couldn’t be any more room left, but she could swear there was more of him.

Her body quivered like it was her first time. He felt so good and he was far from over. Colin stroked her insides like he was trying to start a fire. The throb of his dick was hitting every ridge within her puss, causing a flood of orgasms to trigger like set intervals of dynamite. She tried her damnedest to grip him, slow his movements, but he was like a race car piston. He linked her leg over his arm, opening her body up to more of his drilling. She watched him look down between them, which piqued her own curiosity. But when she looked down, she thought she’d pass out. Instead another orgasm hit her.

She watched in sensuous excitement as his dick slid in and out of her abyss. Her head fell back, unable to watch the sexy scene any longer, but her imagination ran with it, emblazoning the sight in her mind. She could feel him, feel it. Colin bit her neck gently, his own grunts falling in line with her moans. The pressure was so sweet, so sinful. She had lost count of the orgasms that had trickled and tremored through her. Her throat was hoarse from the whines. She had no doubts that her passionate screams scared away every woodland animal within walking distance.

Seconds after her last orgasm, she felt Colin push as far into her depths as he go; a fierce groan gritting through his teeth before he collapsed next to her on the blanket. He drew the soft material on them to keep out the cold and hold her to his warmth. Vixen nestled her head on the pillow of his chest taking in his manly scent. She giggled drawing his eyes to her.

“What’s so funny?”

“I’m gonna have to see you tomorrow.”

“Why?”

“You done sweated out my ‘do,” she laughed tracing her fingers over his chest.

Colin’s head fell back in a laugh. “I’ll have to check my book. How’s your evening look?”

“Open. Very open,” she smiled as she got up on top of him already feeling his dick lengthen inside of her, ready to please. Her eyes gazed up at the diamonds in the black sky, seeing a star fall as she rode the night away with her handsome hairdresser. She’d make sure she was early for her appointment tomorrow – but not too early.

Passion Mark

“Avery! Customer!”

Avery glanced up from her work to see a tall man standing at the front of the shop. Her eyes perused him from head to toe. He had to be a model. Aside from the height, he was well-built like a basketball player and his clothes were designer that was for sure. It was a well cut suit and tailor-made for him. Armani? Hugo Boss? Sean Jean? Didn’t matter what the brand was, because he was rocking it. He had shoulder length, jet black hair and, on his face, he wore Aviator shades that obscured his eyes.

Avery rubbed the cloth over the tattoo she had been working on and told her client to take a break. Removing the black, latex gloves, she rose from her chair to greet the man. His eyes were studying the wall of graphics and past client photographs.

“Can I help you?” she asked.

The man turned toward the sound of her voice. Even with the shades on, she could tell he was checking her out. For some reason, she could feel the appreciation oozing from him, and it caused a hot pressure to settle in her stomach. She could feel the throbbing in her nipple ring.

“I have a special request.” He removed his glasses and Avery couldn’t help the deep inhale she took. His narrow eyes were the deepest brown she’d ever seen; smoldering with the right hint of bedroom chic. He was a hot mix of Bruce Lee and the dude from the movie, The Lover. Cinemax had it on replay all month.

Swallowing the lump forming in her throat, she repeated his words. “Special request?”

“Can you handle it?”

Avery nodded, trying to ignore the double meaning his words incited. “We handle requests of all kinds.”

“I require an artist to come to my home to complete a special piece I’ve been working on for some time.” He walked over to the board to point out a picture. “I want the artist who did this one.”

Avery’s stomach flipped three times. It was a picture of a Geisha staring over her shoulder with a wink and wicked smile. She had drawn that photograph. Rubbing her sweaty palms over her jeans, she walked over to the board. “That shouldn’t be a problem. I drew that.”

“I thought you may have,” he replied with a smile, turning back toward her again. “You’re work is clean, thorough.”

Avery beamed inside with pride.  “When would you like to schedule your appointment?”

“I leave for Tokyo in two days. Is tonight too soon? Around 9pm?”

Avery didn’t know why but her stomach lurched at that. Nodding her head she checked the book to make sure that she didn’t have any late night stragglers. Seeing none, she drew a pencil down the rest of the night. “I’m all yours.”

He smiled seductively at her, his eyes once again racking over her body. He wrote down his address then handed her the slip of paper. “Mine. Nine.”

Avery watched him put his shades back on and stroll out the shop. Once he was out of range, she blew out a whistle and fanned herself. “D’yall see that fine Asian man? Or was that an illusion?”

Her artists and customers giggled and laughed. “We all saw him. And he sure hell saw you,” Cheyenne, her partner, chortled.

Avery went back to work, keeping her head focused. The last thing she needed was to be distracted by hot pot man.

After her last client, Avery rode her restored ’78 Impala over to the address listed on the slip of paper. She stopped in front of the gate and her mouth dropped at the huge mansion sitting in front of her. It was classic Asian inspiration. Bonsai gardens and orchid trees dotted the property. The walls of the mansion were bleached white with large windows covering them. In one window, she could see him. Her body immediately reacted to his topless frame. He was wearing only a pair of simple black lounge pants.

Too busy gawking at the man’s body; she hadn’t pressed the button to request entrance. Instead, she watched him press a remote that released the gate, which slid open to let her in. Getting her head back in gear, she moved her car into the drive.

“He’s just another client, Avery. Chill out. Just a fine, sexy Asian man.” She repeated the words in her head as she made her way to the door with her bag of tools and ink.

Before she had a chance to knock or ring the doorbell, an old man opened the door. He was dressed in a well-made suit. He actually bowed, which threw Avery. She wasn’t sure how to respond. She did a hybrid of a curtsy-bow that she knew must’ve looked ridiculous, but the man was kind enough not to make comment. She hated to stereotype, but he looked just like Sulu from Star Trek. Blowing her hair out of her face, she made her way down the hall. The old man told her to proceed to the living room, off to the right. After that, he disappeared.

Avery entered the room and was awed by the furniture and fixtures. It looked like a place right of HGTV. Her eyes peeped the photos. She assumed they were family members; an old couple, dominated most. She was like a chicken going from one photo to the next. What she was really looking for was a wedding one. Her eyes found another snapshot; a girl.

“My sister.”

Avery started, whirling around. His voice was so quiet, yet powerful. It was like he’d run his finger down her spine. Her eyes latched onto his bare chest and the images strategically placed there. Catching her breath and fighting the blush, she said, “She’s pretty.”

“She is,” he agreed taking the photo. “My brothers and I have a hard time letting her be independent.”

“I wouldn’t know, I got one crazy sister,” she stated, trying to detach her eyes from his pecs. “Where should I set up?”

“I’ll show you,” he said leading her to another part of the house.

He slid back the Japanese doors to reveal an indoor garden. Set up in the middle of the room was a long bamboo mattress-covered table with a matching tattoo chair. Avery followed behind the man admiring his taut backside. He had those two dimples just above the mounds of his ass that made her mouth water. Taking a calming breath, she decided to move her eyes to the table.

“You tattoo?”

“I do, for special clients,” he stated.

Avery glanced at him as she began removing items from her bag. “What is it you do again?”

“I customize and import specialty sport cars, but I was once a tattoo artist before the car thing took off,” he explained settling his body onto the table. “Once and a while, an old client will want a new tattoo and they only want what I can give them.”

That pesky lump rose up in her throat again. “You must be good.”

“Ask Cajun Mal.”

“The rapper?” she gushed. “You did that lion pride one on his back? That shit was sweet.”

“He wants me to add two more when I get back from Japan.”

“Wow.” She pulled out the alcohol, shaving cream, and disposable razor to clear the area, but he steadied her hand. The feeling of his palm was warm against her arm. It made the hair magnetize. Their eyes connected.

“I just prepped upstairs. You can just wipe down with the alcohol.”

Uncertain her voice wouldn’t crack, she simply nodded her head. Taking up the bottle, she poured a bit on the white cloth. “Where?”

“Right here.” He took her hand with the cloth in it and placed it over his right pectoral muscle. She felt it twitch. Her mouth dried instantly. Again, their eyes connected as she cleaned the area. Her heart fluttered under his scrutiny. She was so caught up in his stare, she barely heard his question.

“What?”

“Did you bring the photo?”

“Uh, yeah. Hold on.” She rummaged through the bag and found the photo book that held the Geisha pic. “Do you have any changes you want to make?”

“No, I want her exactly as you drew her,” he stated, settling back in.

Avery began to sketch the picture on the stencil, making sure to capture every detail. Taking the sheaf, she placed it over the muscle to transpose the image onto his skin. When she was sure it had taken, she lifted it gently. There she was gazing back at her. The Geisha. She pulled out her big hand mirror, but he waved her off, pointing up. Avery glanced up and saw a huge ceiling mirror. How did she miss that?

She put on her black latex gloves. “You ready?”

He nodded his head, just as she switched on the tool. Then the Zen fell over the room. Avery began to trace over the piece carefully, her hand wiping the blood away ever now and then. Her eyes would rove over the other pieces on his chest. He had some really nice images and they were all well done. She loved the Samurai. He wasn’t trying to hack anyone like most brothers would want. No, his warrior was quiet, meditative, but you could see the fire brewing just behind the eyes.

“What takes you to Japan?” she asked.

“Customer wanted me to deliver his Roadster personally,” he replied.

“How did you get into cars?”

“Chop shops.”

Avery stopped and stared at him. He had said it so casually. “Really?”

“Yeah. I used to run with a real bunch of idiots,” he admitted. “One day, I just said it wasn’t worth all the trouble. So, I began to get into the tattooing thing, built up some capital and began to do legit work on cars. Started small, then got a name with some rappers and that was it.”

“What about your old crew?”

“Some dead, some in jail. The car thing kept me busy – and out of touch.”

“Wow. Didn’t leave you much time to date, huh?” Why’d you throw out that hook? She scolded herself.

He chuckled, making her pause her work. “I date, but nowadays the girls just want to ball.”

“Seeing this place, I can see why.”

“Do you judge a man by his possession?”

“Not in this economy.” She laughed, sitting up, studying the piece. “Brother could be looking like he Trump and turns out he broker than Hammer.”

He chuckled again. She looked down at him. His smile was breathtaking, inviting. She rose for a bit. She was feeling intensely warm all over.

“It looks good.” He observed in the mirror.

“I thought I’d give you a rest before working on the color.”

He nodded, his eyes roaming over her body. “The tongue or nipple?”

“What?” she asked, thrown off guard by the question.

“What hurt more? The tongue ring or the nipple ring?”

“How’d you know I had a nipple ring?”

He cocked his head to the side as if to say, “C’mon.” She had been unconsciously rubbing her boob against his arm the whole time she had been working on his tattoo.

A blush rose up, when she realized it. “Well, if you must know, it was the nipple one.”

“Why get it then?”

“Because once the pain is gone, there are … ahem… other benefits,” she explained coming back to the table. “You ready?”

Taking the hint, he nodded and allowed her time to concentrate on the tattoo. Avery was far from cooled down as she began to color in the piece. Her palms were super sweaty and were making her latex gloves extremely uncomfortable. She tried keeping her eyes on the work, but was finding it hard. As she cleared sweat from her brow, she looked down the panel of his flat stomach. Her breath caught for a second as she noticed the rather large tent forming in his pants. She guessed she wasn’t the only one affected by the closeness, then again, dudes got hard just staring at wallpaper.

She brought her eyes back to the piece intent on finishing it. She was almost done and it was looking really good, if she did say so herself.

“Anyone ever tell you, you look like Jill Scott?” He asked, breaking the silence.

“No. Anyone tell you, you look like that dude from the movie, The Lover?”

He laughed. “I always get Bruce Lee, but that one’s new.” He studied her features more closely. “Your smile is prettier than Jill’s.”

That flutter was back again. This time her hand got a little shaky. Taking a second, she cleared away the blood. The exhale she released twitched his muscle. She watched awestruck as his nipple hardened beneath the breeze. It looked so good, she was tempted to pop it into her mouth and taste it.

“Y’all got some water?” she asked clearing her throat. She ran her hands along the sides of her high top faux hawk.

Without warning, the Sulu-looking butler came out of nowhere with a glass of ice and a bottle of Evian, placing it on the table near her tools, then handed him a glass of Hennessey. She looked up surprised then watched as he disappeared again.

“Carl is very vigilant,” he said, smiling.

“Thank God.” She opened the bottle and took a much needed swig. Capping the bottle, she glanced at him sideways. “Ok, now I know the butler’s name, but do you know all this time you haven’t thought to tell me yours?”

“Does it matter?”

“Yeah.”

He chuckled again. Licking his lips, he took a sip of the cognac. “It’s Kraven.”

Did she hear him right? “What?”

“Kraven,” he repeated, looking her up and down when he said it.

She cocked her head to the side. “Last name.”

He paused. His cup stopped just at his lip. A smirk creased his lip. “Yu.”

She just stared at him as if he was hustling. “Stop lying.”

“You want my license?” he laughed, understanding her disbelief. “Better yet, look up my name on your iPhone. Go on. It’s Kraven with a K.”

Pursing her lips, she pulled up her phone and began the search. Sure enough several articles and images came up. Her eyes glanced from the screen to him, skeptically. Yellow brother even had a Wikipedia page.

“C’mon, would I have had that much time to write about myself?” he joked settling back onto the mattress.

“You could,” she threw back settling in. “Your parents must be a hoot.”

“My older brother has a pretty traditional name. But my other brother, my sister and I, they decided to get creative. It was the seventies,” he explained. “Haven, Lovin and Kraven.”

She burst out laughing. “Damn, they did get creative. But yours is the best.”

“I get that a lot,” he said, staring at her.

She was putting the finishing touches on the piece. Their eyes met again. She could feel the muscles in her core twitch. It was definitely craving some of him that was for sure. Be a professional, she chided. I know he looks good. I know you see the bulge in his pants, but damnit, be strong. She sighed again.

“You know every time you do that it turns me on.”

Her eyes darted to his again. There was definitely a fire in his eyes as he took a slow sip of his drink. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. I never said it bothered me.”

She licked her lips and swallowed the lump for the umpteenth time. Time ticked away as they studied one another. Finally, she pulled her eyes away to finish. The last color fell into place. Cleaning off the excess, she switched off the needle and put it aside.

“What do you think?” She looked up at the mirror. She saw that he wasn’t looking at the piece but at her.

“Looks good to me.”

Their eyes connected again. She reached over to grab the salve, bandage, and tape. Using her index finger, she picked up a dollop of salve and rubbed it on the tattoo, making it glisten then she placed the bandage over it and taped it down securely. She removed her gloves, tossing them in the trash can.

“All set.” She announced wiping her hands over her jean capris. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a wad of cash. Counting off 10 Benjamins, he handed her the money.

“A grand?”

“It was good work.”

“Thank you.” She blushed at the compliment as she tucked the money into her wallet. She began packing up her things, when she sensed he was still watching her. Her eyes drifted over to his and once again they locked. He looked too good, lying on his side, propped up by his elbow, one knee bent. She licked her lips.

He instantly perked up. Rising, he slid off the table to stand in front of her. The heat of his body drew her to him. He ran his hand over her brow then down her cheek. “Sorry if I come on too strong, but I’ve had to hold myself in check all night.”

Her eyes widened as he leaned in to brush his lips against hers. His hands held her cheeks prone as his mouth pushed her lips apart to allow his tongue access. Delving into the hotness, it flicked the ball of her tongue ring, making her tingle. Avery was astounded by the smoothness of his lips. Her body melted against his, wrapping her arms around his waist to clutch his bare back. Boldly, she slid her hands inside his pants and gasped when she realized he had nothing on underneath. Her fingers clutched the meat of his butt, making him groan. He pushed his pelvis into her middle, rubbing his erection against her belly ring, which sent a jolt to her puss.

Finally finding the strength, she pulled away from his lips to breathe. They pressed their foreheads together, taking in each other’s breath. “Shit,” she swore, raggedly.

Not giving her a second to think, he pulled her shirt over her head, revealing the sexy satin bra underneath. Avery sensed her sized double D breasts must’ve overwhelmed him, because his eyes seemed to pop out his head in admiration. She laughed, drawing his eyes to her mouth. Wrapping his arms around her waist, he pulled her into him, pushing her breasts higher. Like a magician, he snapped the clasps at the back and drew the garment into his hands. He immediately felt the cool metal of the nipple ring on his abs and smiled as it warmed under his body heat.

His hand tried to grip the breast, but it was more than a handful, and he didn’t have small fingers. They were long and strong and every inch fought to hold her. Avery moaned as his thumb tweaked the hardened nub. She bit down on her lip trying to keep the noise low.

He must’ve read the concern on her face. “Don’t worry. Like I said, Carl is vigilant. He’s probably in his room watching Grey’s Anatomy.”

His mouth enclosed over her nipple and began to suckle. The scream she had been hold back sighed from her lips. His tongue was so hot it scorched the metal of her ring. And he knew his way around a nipple ring too. He didn’t pull to hard, just gentle tugs that sent a signal down to her clit. It was like sexual Morse code. He then switched to the other side and showed it the same amount of care and attention.

“Kraven.” She rasped as she ran her hands through his shiny hair. Tugging gently, she pulled his head up then pushed him back down on the table. He followed her lead, laying back. Avery took hold of the drawstrings and unlaced them slowly. Then she slid the black fabric over his engorged shaft and down his legs. Did he just spring up like a Jack-in-the-Box? She mused. Her pussy was definitely drooling if that was the case.

She took hold of his member, measuring the width and feeling the ache in her lower regions and the tick in her clit. He was definitely not adhering to the stereotype. Yellow man had it going on. Reaching into her wallet, she whipped out a foil packet. He smiled at her.  “I always come prepared.”

Her finger slid the rubber down the shaft then wrapped around the pouch at the base. His low growl drew her attention to his face. She liked the pleasure in his eyes and wanted to see more of it. She lowered her mouth slowly to his throbbing dick. And it was throbbing too. The pulse beat in her hand, demanding an answer to release.

Her studded tongue emerged from her mouth and he watched it as she licked him from the bass to the tip in one swoop. She felt his stomach clench in response and saw his head arch back. “Avery,” he groaned.

She engulfed the full staff and began to suck. She liked the taste of it on her tongue as she slid it out of her mouth. With each dip, she could feel the throbbing get stronger. Without breaking her oral stride, she eased out of her shorts and panties, leaving her knee high boots on. Kraven touched her round little booty, feeling the suppleness of her cocoa colored skin. His touch fueled her and she began to increase the pressure. The feel of the ball-barring on his dick was too good, but there was something he wanted more. Reaching for her hair, he tugged her attention to him. He pressed her forehead to his, smelling his essence on her tongue was a total turn on.

Ragged, he groaned, “Ride me, Avery.” She bent down to easy off her boots, but he stayed her hand. “Leave’em.”

Avery smirked wickedly as she mounted him like a Harley. With the ease of a panther, she slid his manhood into her waiting abyss. Her breath had caught a little as he filled her to capacity. Yeah, he was definitely breaking the stereotype. She needed a second to adjust, but Kraven had held his Zen-like patience far too long. As soon as he felt her puss surround his body, he began to buck, bouncing Avery over his dick.

His hand gripped her hips firmly, smashing them, grinding them against him. Her breasts bounced in time with the rhythm, the tiny nipple ring catching the light and glinting. With each pummel of his hips, Avery’s moan grew louder and louder, arousing him all the more. Her tiny muscles held on strong, keeping him from pulling out completely. The air was trapped in her lungs making her woozy. Her hands pressed against his chest, leveraging her body. The ache was so twistedly good.

Kraven sat up, gripping her booty to keep them connected. His mouth immediately sought her breasts. He mashed the two orbs together to lick the nipples as one big treat. Avery hooted in ecstasy, tightening her walls even more. She could feel the tremors closing in; feel the pressure building to a climax. Her hips began to rock feverishly. Pulling away from her breasts, Kraven gripped her hair and pressed his lips to her ears.

“Come for me.”

“You ain’t got to tell me twice.” Her body had already started to shake with the pleasure. The throbbing of his dick pushed on her spot making her legs tremble. Soon, a dam broke inside her as an orgasm shuttered through her body, washing her in hot tingles. She bit into his neck hard feeling him shiver. When she pulled away, she noticed the indents she left behind. Seeing them made her feel like an animal, marking her mate. As the tingles began to ease away, she began to ride him even harder. “Your turn.”

She wrapped her arms about his neck and her legs around his waist. He flipped her over the table and began pumping harder. His hips moved over her body like a piston. They fit like a nut and bolt. She could feel the veins of his dick start to press for release. Her fingers dug into his hair, seeking his lips. They molded over hers covering the growl he emitted as he bore deep into her. Avery exploded again, milking the pleasure a second time around.

He eased them down onto the mattress, nestling his head between her two big mounds. Their breathing mingled as they stilled their hearts. Silence washed over them. Avery’s hand grazed his back, swirling the sweat there.

“Avery?” His smooth voice caressed her skin. “Are you busy this week?”

“Why?” she asked looking down at him.

“How’d you like a trip to Japan?” he offered kissing her boob. “All expense paid.”

Avery laughed. “You sure have a way of telling a girl she’s great in the sack.”

“Oh, I think I have another way,” he said hoisting her up.

“Where are you taking me?”

He pulled her up against his body. “Around the world and back.”

TFC: Sidelines - Maggie and Jacob

Jacob toiled in the back room of the club restocking the night's inventory. He loved this time of the night when the moans and groans of the club goers were replaced by the tinkle of wine bottles and stemware. Naked Thursdays were always rough; made more so by the additional stress Xavier had put him through with his little stunt. From the look of the security tape, Fairchild was in rare form and his boy, Drake, had a front row seat to all the action.

Shaking his head, Jacob locked down the cabinet where he kept the good shit. His stock of liquor was second to none and always well inventoried to keep the post-work leaches at bay. He didn't trust anyone with the task but himself and Kimber, his second in command. And she knew better not to mess with the inventory. Fairchild would have both their asses. He turned to leave the room when he noticed the sexy figure filling the doorway.

Maggie Soon.

Jacob's eyes followed the full length of her. His Asian wet dream. Since the first day she had started working for Fairchild, she had been the subject of his every freaky fantasy; his go-to-lady for those really cold nights. Maggie was taller than most Asian chicks, but still was a whole two heads shorter than Jacob, who'd once played college b-ball before an injury derailed him. Maggie was the ultimate China doll. Porcelain skin. Seductive bedroom eyes. That Geisha body with an uncharacteristically fat ass.

Sometimes, on a slow nights, he'd catch himself staring at her from the bar and playing out little scenarios in his head. His personal favorite was the Samurai fantasy. He'd get so caught up in it that he'd hang real close to the edge of the bar. Thank God he had convinced Fairchild to install the granite top because the glass one she'd originally wanted would've put his business on front street.

Jacob cleared his throat, hoping to clear his current nasty thoughts. "Maggie."

"Jacob."

"Can I help you with something?"

"Fairchild will be entertaining the Pasha for the next couple of days and wanted to make sure His Excellency has his favorites stocked."

"Sure. Let me check his cabinet."

Maggie was always impressed with his efficiency. Jacob had actually set aside a special cabinet for the Pasha, for whenever he was in town. She watched as Jacob turned toward the back of the room toward a black lacquered armoire. He opened the double doors with a special key. Inside there was an assortment of foreign wines and liquors not readily available in the States. Perusing the stock, Jacob made quick mental notes. This shit was completely off limits to the regular bar staff and clientele by Fairchild's order. In fact, he was the only one allowed to mess with the stock, not even his second touched it.  

Maggie studied the barkeep's body while he was turned away. She loved Jacob's build. So strong, so manly. His skin was a nice sable hue, complimented by his long, raven-colored cornrows and dark brown eyes. He could've gone into modeling with those looks, instead of slanging drinks. However, Fairchild did pay him well to man her bar and keep the staff in line. When she'd first met the man, she'd been hit with an attraction she could not comprehend. Brothers weren't her usually forte, but something about Jacob made her body sing.

She was so disturbed by this attraction she had taken great pains to avoid him at all costs, sending routers to him with messages from Fairchild. Then one day, Fairchild had made a demand that Maggie go directly to Jacob herself and get the answer. Nervous, but maintaining her cool demeanor, she went to Jacob to get Fairchild's answer and had found herself more head over heels for the man after hearing his soothing baritone. 

"How long?"

"Too long," Maggie sighed absently.

"I mean how long is he staying?"

Maggie blushed profusely realizing she had spoken out loud. "Uh, just a week."

"I'll need to order one bottle from Amir, but we're good otherwise."

"Good."

An awkward silence fell between the two. Maggie was still reeling over her out loud commentary. Jacob bashfully tucked his hands in his pockets trying to keep them to himself since all he wanted to do was snatch her up. His eyes stared at her feet. She was wearing his favorite strappy sandals. The ones that arched her foot in just the right way, sending jolts right to his manhood. He was an admitted foot man. He simply loved a well arched foot, especially if the woman knew how to treat them well. Girlfriends past used to be pampered with pedicures all the time - on his dime or his time. That was correct, Jacob knew his way around a pumice stone like a pro and judging by Ms. Soon's toes, she kept up with her routine very well. The more he studied her feet, the more his arousal increased.

"I should go." Maggie turned to leave, but Jacob quickly snatched up her wrist. Before she could protest, he had pushed her up against the wall. "Jacob-"

"Sorry, Maggie, I've been waiting a long time to do this," he apologized as he lowered his mouth to hers.

In that instant, the cool, collected Ms. Soon melted against the mountain. She could feel every nuance of Jacob's frame pressing into her. He had lifted her up in such a way that her feet never touched the ground.

"So how long has it been?"

Maggie was in a haze of desire and just barely understood the question. "Since I first started working for Fairchild."

"Damn, a whole year and a half."

"Fairchild is a full time job. Besides after the last relationship I had, celibacy looked real good."

Jacob refused to ask her about her last man. Whoever he was, he was a dick for letting her go. Quickly forgetting the man, Jacob's mouth suckled on her neck, tasting her distinct flavor on his tongue, yet careful not to leave any telltale signs. His fingers worked her bun feverishly, entangling into their freed, silken depths. His other hand had been raising her skirt looking to get a feel of her puss.

Maggie wasn't idle, however. She tore at the buttons of his shirt, wanting to desperately feel his skin on hers. Jacob had already ripped off her panties and was feeling his way around. She wanted the same. They'd barely come up for air with the kiss they had started. Her head was feeling so light, she was so dizzy with passion. Suddenly, Jacob hoisted her onto the desk, unzipping her skin tight dress in one motion.

"Jacob... we shouldn't... somebody might... Unh, right there, right there!"

Jacob had inserted his long fingers into her depths, sliding them along her very tight and slick walls. They had immediately found her spot and kept playing upon it; his thumb pressing firmly on her hot button adding to the intensity and pleasure. It had been a long while since she had had a good roll in the hay and Jacob was definitely making up for lost time.

He dug through his pocket to retrieve a condom from his wallet and quickly strapped up since his patience was not playing fair with him. His jeans barely fell off his thighs giving Maggie access to grope his ample ass. Delving into her depths was like a fantasy come to life. All those wicked thoughts were confirmed. She was tight, she was wet and she was his. A hiss escaped between his teeth as Maggie's long nails dug into his bare back, halting his stroke momentarily.

Their eyes met.

"Sorry," she apologized, sheepishly. "It's really been a while."

Jacob was so overcome by her inner muscles stroking his dick, he shrugged off the pain and kept moving. His eyes glanced down to watch how his manhood moved in and out of her. Her thatch was clean shaven giving him a contrast of texture and color; her pale skin swallowing up his dark saber again and again. Then he caught a glimpse of her feet dangling by the desk and caught his breath. They looked so good; so good he needed a closer look.

"Let me see your feet girl," he growled against her ear.

"What?"

"Your leg. Bring it up on my shoulder."

Without further question, she stretched her leg over Jacob's shoulder, all while he pummeled her. Once the limb had reached its position, Maggie was taken on a new ride. "Shit, Jacob. Really?"

"Yeah, girl, it's like that."

She wouldn't have believed it if she wasn't feeling it happen. He had to have doubled in size, all because of her tiny foot. She didn't even like her feet, yet he was loving it like that. The tip of his dick was reaching so far back inside her she was trembling something fierce. Her head hung back, allowing her hair to sweep the desk.

Jacob's cheek rubbed up on her sandal-clad feet. The arch was perfect and the red paint was the right touch. He ran his tongue along her ankle straps, which strangely turned Maggie on. The tremors grew more intense. She fell back against the desk, taking in more of Jacob, who crisscrossed her legs in front of his stomach; giving him a double view of pleasure. Maggie and her feet.

"That's it, baby. C'mon."

Hearing his sexy voice goad her on was her undoing and Maggie let out an orgasmic scream, which gave way to Jacob's final thrusts and groan. Slowly pulling out of her depths, he rubbed his still throbbing dick against her shoe, allowing her juices to coat the leather straps. Then he pulled Maggie into his arms for a deep kiss.

After a few moments of silence, Maggie sighed. "What are we going to do?"

"Hopefully the answer is do this again?" Jacob laughed, squeezing her tight, causing her to join him in the humor - along with the unseen Fairchild, who'd witnessed the tryst from the safe, shadowed distance of the door before turning to leave for the night.

"Bout time," she chuckled in the wake of her footsteps.

Confection

Confection watched as her new apprentice, Cyrus McEnroy, toiled over some dough for an order of pies. He had come highly recommended by one of her assistants, who mentioned that Cyrus was a transplant from England, looking for an under the table gig while he sorted out his immigration status. Confection had been impressed with how much of a quick study he was and that he rose to challenges very easily. He wasn't bad on the eyes either.

She found she loved his raspy English accent and rough and tumble look. There was something really sexy about his bald head that made Confection want to place kisses all over it. She could tell from his build he was rock solid. It was military precision, complimented with spot on reflexes. Proven when he swiftly caught Confection on his first day after she had tripped over a misplaced rolling pin. In that instance, a fire had sparked between the two that refused to go out. So much so, she could feel the intense heat of his stare even when her back was turned.

However, beneath all the smiles and quick wit, she sensed a little ruthlessness and danger just below the surface of his hazel eyes. She knew ruthlessness very well, being the daughter of Vincent "Le Sweet" Smith, renowned baker. He had been a sweet and loving father to her and her sister, Dulce, but he was also a relentless and skilled hit man, who had met his demise in a double cross between a don and his son. Confection had been so angry two years ago, when the cops could do nothing to solve her dad's murder. They said there wasn't enough evidence to arrest them, even though it had been clearly a mob hit. Bitter, Confection dove head first into making sure her dad's bakery didn't go under. However, there was a piece of her that wanted vengeance and was slowly working to get it.

"Confection, the dough's in the pans, what do you need help with?" Cyrus asked, rubbing his hands on the white apron he wore.

His eyes raked over her body appreciatively, which caused Confection to forget her thirst for revenge for the moment. "Oh, Cyrus, you can go home," she told him, hoping he would take her advice since she was finding it hard to maintain her composure when he was so close. "I can lock up for the night."

Cyrus drew closer to her, invading her space. Resting his hand on table, he used his other hand to clear away an errant twist from her eyes. She was an astounding beauty with her full bow lips and spider leg lashes playing over rounded, cherub cheeks. Her long, curling twists piled high above her regal head were as rich as the milk chocolate she stirred in the pot before her. Her golden tanned skin was flushed with a sheen of perspiration, which she wiped away from her forehead after a few intervals of the spoon. The stove wasn't the only thing making her sweat. Cyrus took in her smell, relishing the scent filling his nose. He couldn't see this sweet treat as an assassin, but then again he wasn't there to assess her ability. He was there to complete his own job, per Mickey the Skinny's decree. However, his conscious was starting to eat at him as he got to know and desire the pretty little baker.

"Let me be a gentleman and keep you company," he rasped sexily against her ear.

"That's the problem, Cyrus. You may not be able to maintain your gentlemanly airs around me," she flirted back, staring into his hazel eyes.

Cyrus smirked wickedly. "You make it rather difficult with the cut of your shorts, luv," he remarked checking out her pert derriere.

"You keep playing too close to the fire, Cyrus," she said, turning off the stove. Dipping her long finger into the hot chocolate, she drew the sampling toward her lips, only to have Cyrus redirect the finger to his mouth, where he slowly savored the taste. 

Confection watched with breathtaking silence as he eased the digit from his lips. She could feel the roughness of his tongue slide over her soft finger with such a sexiness that her panties were beginning to drench, causing an ache to pulse in that region. Trying to compose herself, Confection took back her hand and tried to refocus her breathing and her attention. But Cyrus wasn't letting her getaway so easily. He drew the baker back into his arms. They stood toe for toe, chest to chest, lip to lip with one another. Confection could feel her lungs pull in a ragged breath as her mind tried to quell the overwhelming passion clamoring to taste him. This was crazy. 

"Maybe I like playing close to your fire, Confection," he challenged, framing her face in his hands, drawing her lips to his. 

In that instant, the baker melted into his body. She wrapped her lengthy arms around his neck embracing the kiss fully as Cyrus' hands explored her stacked frame. Her hands and arms cradled his bald head lovingly keeping his lips firmly planted against hers. Heat began building steadily, adding degrees of fire and passion to their kiss. Cyrus danced her over to the flour ladened worktable, clearing a space haphazardly spilling the effects to the floor. He replaced them with Confection herself. His leg nudged her thighs apart giving him a berth between them. Cupping her cheeks between his hands, he kissed a path down her long neck and back to her lips.

"Cyrus, this is crazy," she tried to reason. "You're going to have to knead that dough all over again."

"I got a different need, my dear, that requires your attention," he reminded her huskily, pulling her tank top over her head. 

He leaned back to study the perfect globes before him encased in a frilly lace, lavender bra. The curve of her breasts made his mouth water hungrily. Their size was further enhanced by the slimness of her waist that curved into robust hips. He gripped those same hips possessively, his eyes pinning her to the table. They were intense and Confection could tell he struggled with something. Cyrus was indeed struggling. He wasn't sure if he should fuck, no, more like make love, to his mark or come to his senses. Shaking his head, he began to withdraw only to have Confection herself draw him back. 

"Too late, dough boy," she uttered crushing her lips to his.

Their tongues entwined passionately, re-stoking the fires within them. Their lips kneaded harmoniously together as Cyrus' fingers unsnapped her bra strap. Confection drew her lips away to catch a breath, only to have that same breath snatched back when she felt his hot mouth against her neck. It had been so long since she had had some that she was throwing all caution to the wind. Between her and her sister, she was the most conservative. Dulce was quick to roll in the hay with some dude off the street. Apparently, Confection was no better since she was at this moment half naked in her dad's bakery fucking the help.

Cyrus tossed the lacy bra aside and focused his attention on her wine glass breasts. Perfectly shaped and encased in the center of tanned orbs, the dark mauve aureoles puckered in invitation to him. Looking into Confection's brandy colored eyes, his thumb gently pressed the bud sending a welcoming jolt to her puss that made her squirm in pleasure. Then his lips surrounded her other nipple increasing the sensation twenty fold. Confection kept his head in place, enjoying every second of his worship. So much so, she hadn't noticed Cyrus tugging her denim shorts down her legs. Laying her back on the worktable, he worked down her body with the easy of a snake, leaving trails of kisses along her svelte, yet curvy frame. Reaching for the powdered sugar, he knocked over the jar, grabbing a small amount to sprinkle up her body. A tempting trail that his tongue followed.

Confection continued to squirm in pleasure, then a deep moan tore from her throat when she felt Cyrus' mouth hot on her pulsing mound. His lower lips flicked a sip from her burning clit, causing her lower half to shiver in ecstasy. Then he took the engorged kernel into his mouth to suckle. He drank in the bud thirstily, while Confectioon's body writhed to and fro kicking up flour and sugar dust throughout the kitchen. Delectable moans rose and fell from her lips begging Cyrus to continue. Soon, his fingers went to work, seeking her inner lips. His ring finger carefully slipped into her depths to measure her, then it was joined almost simultaneously by the middle. They explored her tightening inner walls, feeling the roughness and slickness within, making his cock harden with more and more need.

Soon, they found her special spot deep in the back, hidden around a small curve and Confection began to shake in violent pleasure. Her breathing became ragged and her walls tightened painfully around his two fingers, forcing one out. Damn she was tight - and wet. Cyrus' mouth watered hungry as he pulled his jeans down and ripped off his shirt. Pulling a condom from his pants pocket, he strapped up quickly urgent to delve into her nethers. 

"Oh, God, Cyrus," she groaned hazily, trying to collect her thoughts. But thoughts were soon surrendered when she felt his thick member fill her completely. 

Confection's eyes drew to his. She could hear his strained groan as he tried to hold himself within her tight walls. She relaxed her muscles allowing him further entrance. Sweat formed on his head, dripping sexily over his chiseled chest. The tension had drained from his brow once Confection had given him entrance into her still quivering puss. Soon replaced by complete male satisfaction as he began to move within. He didn't pummel her, no, he took his sweet time. Each pull in was as equally, and torturously,  slow as the pull out. Like he was using each stroke of his dick to feel the ridges of her slick walls, confirming what his fingers had felt earlier. 

"Oh, dearie, you are too good," he rasped against her ears, between pumps. "I've been fantasizing about this since the day I first met you."

"I have to admit, I've done the same," she said, wrapping her legs around his body seeking more of him.

Cyrus drew Confection into his arms and turned her over. Leaning her over the table, he reentered her puss from behind savoring the feel of the new position. Grabbing more powdered sugar, he sprinkled the sweet over its namesake's back and then proceeded to lick the curvature appreciatively.

"You are delectable, my dear," he praised, gripping her hips possessively, all the while, driving deeper and deeper into her. 

The compliment reached her eyes tenderly as she spread herself more openly to him. The feel of his heavy balls gently smacking her clit was bringing on a whole new sensation of bliss that Confection had never felt before. Her head reared back, forcing her nipples to rub deliciously over the floured worktable. Another orgasm was surfacing quickly, tightening her walls again. Feeling the squeeze, Cyrus grit his teeth against the pleasurable pain. Her walls were still wet and pleading, hungry. The pressure pulsing in his cock was becoming unbearable and begging for release, but he wanted to savor her for longer, just a little longer. Suddenly, just as Confection had unleashed another round of orgasmic moans, Cyrus followed right behind her. His body rocked forcefully against hers, ringing orgasm after orgasm from the sweet miss. When the energy had gone out of them, Cyrus turned Confection about to face him.

He knew he had broken his rules about getting close to a mark. His eyes studied her glowing face. Damn her for this beauty of hers. Her lips were swollen from their hard kissing, her breath cool against his hot skin. Shit, he wanted her all over again. Swallowing hard, he gazed into Confection's eyes. He knew he couldn't do it and he was gonna pay for not fulfilling his assignment. Mentally shrugging to himself, he decided to come clean to the baker. Suddenly, his head felt light and the room began to spin.

"Confection," he began, staggering. "I have something to tell you..."

"No need, Cy," she hushed, her heart breaking a bit. "I already know."

"What?" he asked shocked by her calm. 

"You forget my dad was hit man for forty years, which means we knew all the players in town," she explained. "I knew who you were the minute you walked through my door."

"But why? Why did you let me?" he asked as he staggered naked back against the stove. "What did ... you do... to me?" Then he realized his mistake. "The chocolate!"

"Don't worry, you won't die, Cy?" she told him, pulling on her shorts and shirt. "But I can't have you in the way. This ain't your fight."

She went to the storeroom door, opened it and promptly shoved him in. "Now, this should keep you safe until I figure out what to do with you."

With that, Cyrus fell into a deep slumber unsure what would become of him, or the little baker for that matter. Confection was looking to get herself killed and he was the only who could help her, knowing who had hired him. Dusting herself off and retrieving a wrapped box from the cabinet, Confection closed up the shop and headed out to make a "special" delivery. She glanced back at the shop, thinking of the naked Englishman locked in her storeroom and couldn't help but smile at her brazenness.


"He was certainly sweet," she sighed to herself, rounding the corner.