Seduction Read online

  “That's okay, you don't have to talk to me. Just put your finger up inside of your pussy . . .”

  Mildred felt dirty but couldn't bring herself to hang up the phone.

  “Ooooh,” he moaned into the phone. “You feel so wet. So fucking wet. I want to ram my cock inside of your pussy palace.”

  That was it. Mildred slammed the phone down. But for the rest of the night she couldn't stop thinking about Bobby and what it might feel like to have his cock rammed inside her pussy palace.

  After that night she'd called the line frequently, speaking to a few different Hot Boyz: Jackson, Jake, and Gregory.

  She'd even incorporated Seneca's gift into her sessions with her fantasy men. And now she could bring herself to climax for just under thirty dollars.

  But tonight she wouldn't need to call the hotline. She had her real live fantasy man. And so she reached for her vibrator, lay back, closed her eyes, and imagined Tony was pushing his cock into her pleasure palace.

  CHAPTER

  Seven

  Tonnnnnnnnnny!”

  Tony rolled over in his twin bed and pulled the pillow over his head, blocking out his mother's insistent calls.

  The bedroom door slammed open. “I know you hear me calling you, boy!”

  “What? What?” Tony screamed into the pillow.

  His mother, Ethel, walked over to the bed, kicking stray sneakers, comic books, and underwear out of her path as she went.

  “There are dishes in the sink, the garbage was never thrown out . . . I came in this morning and the mice were having a picnic!”

  Tony rolled his eyes. “Sorry, I forgot.”

  “You'd forget your head if it wasn't attached to your body,” Ethel said, tossing the pillow down to the foot of the bed. “Now get up and do it!”

  Tony took a deep breath and peeked over at the digital clock. It was just past eight o'clock in the morning. His mother had no respect for him. He worked hard all week long; all he asked was to sleep in late on Saturdays.

  “Christ! That's what you need. You need the Lord in your life!” Ethel was shaking her index finger and bellowing from the doorway.

  Tony sighed. “Ma,” he murmured as he sat up in the bed.

  “What are you going to do with your life? Huh? What?” Ethel glared at him.

  Tony got up from the bed, walked toward his mother, and kissed her affectionately on the forehead. “I'm going to do great things. You'll see,” he said as he moved past her and out into the living room.

  “Really?” Ethel said, pressing her fists into her wide hips. “Well, start with washing the dishes!”

  “So what happened with that girl the other night?” Errol asked as he plucked a wheat roll from the breadbasket. He had invited Tony out for a celebratory meal at the Sugar Bar.

  “Nothing. I couldn't get her to come back to the spot with me, but I did get her number.”

  Errol pulled the roll apart and stared into its soft middle. “What was her name?”

  Tony shrugged his shoulders as he perused the menu. “I dunno. Stacy, Tracy, something.”

  Errol shook his head, then something occurred to him. “Oh yeah, man, did you buy your mother a gift?”

  Tony dropped the menu and gave Errol a blank look. “What?”

  “Tomorrow is your mother's birthday, man. Don't tell me you forgot again.”

  Tony nodded his head, and then gave Errol a sly grin. Errol knew what that meant.

  Errol had been covering Tony's ass in so many different ways and for so long, it had become second nature to him.

  When Errol's mother died when he was eight years old, Mrs. Landry had stepped up, filling the void the death of Errol's mother had left behind. So in some ways he thought of Ethel Landry as his mother too and treated her as such.

  Tony, so self-absorbed, could barely remember to buy her a card. Errol scolded Tony about this on numerous occasions, reminding him that his mother had taken on a second job cleaning offices at night just to put him through college.

  But talking to Tony was often like talking to a wall, so Errol had just given up and now sent an extra dozen roses in Tony's name.

  “So you got that for me?”

  “Yeah, man. I got it,” Errol said.

  The meal was wonderful, complete with an expensive bottle of wine, followed by Couvoisier. The bill totaled well over two hundred dollars.

  “Thanks, man,” Tony said as they exited the restaurant.

  “No problem.”

  They walked along the street in silence. When they got to the lot where Errol had parked his Range Rover, Tony turned to him and said, “You know, man, I think this is the beginning of something big.”

  Errol couldn't remember ever seeing Tony's face so serious. So earnest.

  “I think so too, man.”

  CHAPTER

  Eight

  Mildred spent all of Saturday and Sunday milling around her apartment, flipping through her beloved travel magazines and watching the clock, counting the hours and minutes until Monday morning.

  She'd put on her best outfit, a pink and brown checkered wool skirt suit, even though it was late May and the weather was too warm for it.

  Mildred didn't own a pair of heels; she couldn't walk in them anyway. Whenever she'd make an attempt, by her fourth step she was toppling sideways, falling over like a diseased oak. Mildred's shoe collection was made up of loafers, two worn-out pairs of Nikes, and a pair of pink galoshes.

  She never wore makeup, but this time she had made a special trip to Rite-Aid to buy a tube of strawberry-flavored lip gloss, and she'd done one other special thing for herself that she hadn't done in a decade.

  Sunday afternoon, she sat on her bed, an old issue of Essence magazine open on her lap as she followed the instructions for a hairstyle that she thought would suit her natural hair. Mildred had a standing press and curl appointment at the neighborhood beauty salon, which was patronized by bent old ladies and kindergartners. For the first time in twelve years she'd canceled her appointment, opting to follow the instructions in the magazine, which required the person to thoroughly wash her hair and then part it into quarters, generously applying protein gel to the locks before braiding them tightly and then pin rolling the hair before sitting under the dryer until it was dry.

  Monday morning, Mildred rose at five o'clock, un-braided her hair, and was horrified to find that it was a stiff mess. A bird's nest!

  She looked like one of those Africans who swung through the trees in the old black-and-white Tarzan movies.

  Crying, she poured cup after cup of water over her head, softening it as best she could before greasing it and then pulling it back into a ponytail.

  Black penny loafers spit-shined and gleaming, she straightened the hem of her jacket, lifted her head high in the air, and started out of the apartment and toward her destiny.

  CHAPTER

  Nine

  Tony strolled into 120 Broadway dressed smartly in a gray Armani suit complete with Valentino shades and a copy of the Wall Street Journal tucked under his arm.

  Taking the elevator to the sixth floor, he stepped out and started toward the receptionist's desk.

  The woman was good-looking, with a mass of red hair and long maroon fingernails. She took a quick double glance at Tony and then her face broke into a smile.

  “Good morning,” Tony said.

  “Good morning, sir. How can I help you today?” the woman asked, slowly taking Tony in.

  Tony presented his hand. “My name is Tony Landry. I'm the new analyst.”

  The woman's eyebrow arched. “Really? Which department?”

  “Inactive accounts.”

  “Well, welcome aboard, Mr. Landry.”

  “Please, call me Tony.” Tony smiled and leaned in a bit. “All my friends do,” he added, getting a nice peek at her cleavage. “And I hope we'll be good friends.”

  Already he was treading in dangerous waters, flirting on the first day.

  “Cherise,” the reception
ist said, folding her hands beneath her chin, “but my friends call me Cherry.” She winked.

  Tony didn't miss the two-carat platinum diamond engagement ring on her finger.

  “Lucky man,” Tony said, nodding at the ring.

  “Don't think he don't know it either.” Cherry licked her lips.

  They just grinned at each other for a moment until the elevator doors opened and a dozen employees spilled into the corridor.

  “Oh,” Cherry sounded and raised her hand, waving at someone who'd stepped off the elevator. “Mr. Finkle,” she called.

  Tony turned around and his eyes fell on a short, balding man with liver spots dotting his face. The suit he wore was wrinkled and hadn't been cleaned since he bought it, judging from the scent wafting from it.

  “Yes, Cherise?”

  “Mr. Finkle, this is Tony Landry, the new analyst in your department.”

  Finkle, who stood barely five feet, tilted his head back, scrutinized Tony for a minute, and then offered his hand. “Art Finkle. Sorry I wasn't here to interview you—I was on vacation in Tampa with my family. Had a wonderful time. Got a little sunburned, though, and the wife spent too much money, but the crab legs were the best I've had in Florida. Have you been to Florida? Gonna retire there in five years if this job doesn't kill me first.”

  Finkle kept shaking his hand the entire time he rambled. Tony fought hard to keep the amusement off his face. When Finkle finally released his hand, he turned on his heels and started toward the office, still in mid-stream.

  Tony looked at Cherry. “You'd better follow him,” she said.

  Tony's desk was small and in a cubicle. Not at all what he'd imagined or hoped for.

  Sighing, he tossed his newspaper down onto the desk and unbuttoned his jacket. Just as he was about to sit down, a young man's face appeared over the edge of the cubicle wall.

  “Hey, you the new guy?”

  Tony nodded and then offered his hand. “Tony Landry.”

  “Habib Habib.”

  Tony gave the Middle Eastern man a quizzical look. He wasn't sure he'd heard right.

  “Did you say Habib Habib?”

  “Yeah, I know—it's a long story.” The olive-skinned man laughed. “Nice to meet you. I'm the senior analyst here, so if you need any help, just holler.”

  “Thanks.”

  Tony settled himself down at his desk and turned his computer on. A package with his password, a company manual, and benefits information had arrived on Saturday via Federal Express, and now with horror he realized that he'd left the whole thing at home on his dresser. He had no way to sign in to the system.

  Oh, this is going to be a fine first day! he thought to himself.

  He gathered his pride, cleared his throat, and stood up. He turned right and peered over the edge down into Habib's cube.

  Habib was huddled over his keyboard, already working feverishly away.

  “Hey, Habib. I've got a small problem.”

  Mildred stepped off the elevator and quickly flashed her ID badge at Cherry before scurrying past her and into the office.

  She spotted him immediately, talking to the Pakistani guy who'd stumbled over and pinched her behind two Christmas parties ago. She had thought that he was interested and had started to read up on Pakistani customs, but he never even acknowledged her beyond that night. It was as if the whole incident had never happened.

  Taking a deep breath, she started toward Tony. Her heart was pounding in her ears and she was perspiring profusely.

  When she was one cubicle away from him, her head began to spin. She was losing her nerve—she wasn't ready to approach him. At the last minute she turned quickly around and ran right into an employee who was carrying a tray heavy with Starbucks coffee.

  They slammed into each other, sending the coffee flying, most of which ended up on Mildred.

  Mildred yelped as the steaming liquid seeped through her suit and onto her skin.

  “Oh my goodness,” the young man shrieked. “Are you okay? I'm so sorry. I—”

  Mildred was horrified. She didn't dare turn around to see if Tony was looking her way. With her eyes filled with tears, she hurried away.

  Tony had turned around just as Mildred shrieked. He didn't know who it was that was hurrying away in that awful pink and brown checkered suit, but Habib cleared that up for him.

  “Humph,” he sounded as he pointed in Mildred's direction. “That's the big man's secretary. Mildred Jackson.”

  “Oh yeah,” Tony responded, remembering her silky voice and awful teeth.

  “She had a crush on me a few years ago.” Habib grinned proudly.

  Tony nodded, then shook his head in dismay.

  CHAPTER

  Ten

  What in the world happened to you, Mildred?” Mr. Henderson demanded when he walked into the office suite and found Mildred seated behind her desk, drenched in coffee.

  “Oh, I had a little accident,” she said, her eyes lowered.

  “Well, you can't sit here all day like that. You'll catch your death of cold under this air-conditioning.”

  Mr. Henderson was right, of course—her teeth were already chattering uncontrollably.

  “But you have three meetings today and a—”

  “And nothing, Mildred. Amy Hicks will cover for you,” Mr. Henderson said.

  James Henderson wondered about his assistant sometimes. She was a strange bird and not the most beautiful woman in the world, but she was efficient and dedicated and had the best phone voice he'd ever heard.

  He'd had his share of beautiful assistants who didn't do their job half as well as Mildred. And besides, he was getting up in age and had wrecked two marriages while he was busy screwing his assistants. He'd hired her not only because she came with exemplary references but because he knew that nothing would ever happen between them.

  “Go on home, Mildred,” he said firmly. “Take one of those sick days you never use.”

  An hour later, Mildred was back in her small apartment, curled up on the couch, still dressed in her coffee-stained suit, crying herself to sleep.

  By noon, her telephone was blaring off the hook and she answered it sleepily.

  “Hello?”

  “Mildred, what are you doing home?”

  The voice was familiar, but Mildred was still trying to climb out of her slumber and couldn't quite place it.

  “Who is this?”

  “What? Mildred, are you kidding around? It's Geneva!”

  Mildred wiped at her eyes and pulled herself up into a sitting position.

  “Oh, Geneva, hi,” Mildred responded, still groggy.

  “I had called to see if you wanted to grab lunch together and some other woman answered your phone and said you'd gone home sick for the day. What's wrong?”

  Geneva was a woman who had been temping at the firm for a year. They'd become quite close, taking lunch together most days. Geneva had become sort of a confidante for Mildred. She could share things with Geneva that she couldn't share with Seneca.

  “Um, I think I might be coming down with something,” Mildred lied, unable to share the embarrassing accident she'd been involved in.

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, well, it's just a headache. A . . .”—Mildred searched for the word—“a migraine.”

  “Really?” Geneva didn't sound like she believed her. “Well, did you take something for it?”

  “Yeah, I took some Tylenol. I'll be okay. Can I call you later?”

  There was a long silence before Geneva spoke again.

  “Sure, baby. You call me when you're feeling better.”

  “Okay, Geneva. Bye.”

  “Bye.”

  Mildred hit the End button on the phone and pulled herself up from the couch, stretching her body and yawning. She started toward her bedroom, intent to make use of the day and at least clean out her closet, but a better thought popped into her head.

  “Oh, Mildred, you are a sick puppy!” she said to the empty apartment.
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br />   She tiptoed to the bed and sat down. Picking up the phone, she dialed the hotline. She'd called so much that she was now a platinum member, which came with a personal pin number as well as coupons that invited members to peak during the off-peak hours at a discounted price.

  Mildred looked over at the clock. It was just past eleven.

  Off-peak.

  Mildred pulled her vibrator from the drawer, quickly stripped out of her clothes and underwear, and climbed under the covers.

  She had Hot Boyz on speed dial, and so she hit the corresponding number and then speakerphone.

  Nothing was wrong with a little self-love in the afternoon, now was there?

  CHAPTER

  Eleven

  Errol was standing on the corner of Broadway and John Street talking to a former colleague of his when Tony bounded up.

  “Hey,” he said, and then nodded at the woman Errol was speaking to.

  “Liz Choi, Tony Landry,” Errol said.

  Tony had never had an Asian woman, and now, looking at the beauty standing before him, he couldn't imagine why he'd never gone down that road.

  “Nice to meet you,” Tony said, and then quickly added, “You are the most stunning woman I've ever seen.”

  Liz blushed. “Thank you.”

  Errol rolled his eyes and then said, “Look, Liz, this guy is dangerous. Watch yourself.”

  Liz rocked on the heels of her Jimmy Choos and then reached into her pocketbook and fished out a business card.

  “Here you go, Mr. Landry,” she said as she handed the card to Tony and winked. “I like danger.”

  Tony's eyebrows rose. He liked her.

  Tony tucked the business card safely into the breast pocket of his jacket.

  Liz said her goodbyes and was off. Tony and Errol watched her until she disappeared into the rush-hour crowd that was moving like cattle down the street and toward the train station.

  “So how was the first week?”

  “It was all right, I guess. It ain't exactly brain surgery,” Tony said as they started down the street.

  “Is that so,” Errol said.