Seduction Page 4

“Yeah—I mean, I've been doing this shit for four years now. I can do it with my eyes closed.”

  Errol nodded as they stepped out of the path of a woman pushing a twin stroller.

  “Researching inactive accounts is not the biggest thrill in the world, but hey, it pays the bills.”

  “So why do you keep doing it? Why don't you move on to something else?”

  “I keep doing it because I'm good at it. I had an eighty-five percent success rate at my last job and I hope to increase that at Greene Investments. Do you know what those senior analysts make? Their salary base is six figures and they could double that with overtime and bonuses.”

  Errol didn't know the inactive accounts part of the business. So he listened intently as Tony rambled on.

  “The senior analysts research companies whose activity has been at a standstill for more than six months. You'd be surprised how often that happens. When a small company folds, it's not big news, and so you're not going to read about it in the Journal.”

  “I see,” Errol said as they crossed Broadway and headed toward McAdams Bar.

  “How many accounts did you satisfy this week?”

  “Shit, like thirty-five.”

  “Is that a lot?”

  “From what my supervisor Habib Habib says, it is.”

  Errol stopped. “Habib Habib? Why are you saying the man's name twice?”

  “Long story.” Tony laughed. “I'll tell you over drinks.”

  McAdams was packed with the usual Wall Street crowd. VPs, traders, investment counselors, and administrative staff—they were all there, washing away the week's tensions in alcohol.

  Errol and Tony were on their second beer when Cherry the receptionist sauntered up to them. “Hey, Tony.”

  “H-hey . . . Cherry!” Tony was more than happy to see her.

  “So how was your first week?”

  “Stellar. Thanks for asking.”

  “No problem. So who's your friend?” Cherry inquired as she gave Errol a seductive once-over.

  “This is my best friend, Errol. Errol, this is Cherry. She's the receptionist on my floor.”

  “Nice to meet you,” Errol said.

  “Same here.” Cherry's response was breathless. “I guess it's true what they say, huh?”

  Tony's eyebrows rose. “What's that?”

  “Birds of a feather flock together.”

  Tony and Errol exchanged confused glances.

  Cherry did a slow head toss, sending her mane of red hair cascading over her shoulder. “C'mon—you rarely see two good-looking men together. One is usually a dog.”

  “I think we've just received a compliment, Errol.” Tony laughed.

  “I guess we have,” Errol said, and then turned to Cherry and said, “Thank you.”

  “Why don't you thank me properly and buy me a drink?”

  Errol's eyebrows arched in surprise at her forwardness.

  “Sure, why not? What are you having?”

  When Errol finished his third bottle of beer, it was just past ten. He'd paced himself. Tony, on the other hand, had thrown back shot glass after shot glass of Hennessey, and Cherry didn't seem to have a problem keeping up with him.

  By the time Errol left the bar, Cherry was propped squarely on Tony's lap, with her tongue darting in and out of his ear.

  Errol straightened his tie, tapped Tony on the shoulder, and mouthed “I'm out.”

  Tony gave him the peace sign.

  “Where's the freakiest place you've ever done it?” Cherry whispered in Tony's ear.

  “Well, I don't know . . . There's been a few places—”

  “Have you ever done it on the subway?”

  “Well, no, I don't think so—Ow!” Tony screamed and pushed Cherry off his lap. Cherry had taken nibbling to another level and had bit down a little too hard on his earlobe.

  “Sorry, baby,” Cherry cooed. “Let mama make it better for you,” she said, trying to ease back down onto his lap. Tony looked at her, and her lips were glistening with his blood.

  “Fuck,” Tony mumbled as he jumped up from the chair and started toward the bathroom.

  There was blood on his collar and he cussed under his breath as he pressed a wet paper towel to the wound.

  “That's one crazy bitch, huh?”

  Tony turned to see who had addressed him. It was one of the other analysts, Jim something or other. Tony couldn't quite remember.

  “I had her, you know. Best lay ever,” Jim said as he gave his penis a hearty shake before zipping up his pants and walking over to the adjacent sink to wash his hands.

  Tony laughed. “Well, good for you—but I'm just having a good time. I'm not thinking about—”

  Jim put his hands up, halting Tony in midstatement. “Hey, man, I'm not judging you. It's just that she's all over you like flies to honey, you know? But I want you to know that you're nobody special. I don't want to call her a slut, but she's had some up-close and personal time with most of the cocks in the firm, if you get my meaning.” Jim winked before turning to the mirror and sliding his hands over his slicked-back hair.

  “Botticelli,” Tony murmured to himself. “Jim Botticelli.” He laughed. Funny how the guy's name popped into his head as soon as he dragged his hands across his hair.

  The bleeding had stopped and Tony knew the right thing for him to do was to walk right out into that bar, say good night to Cherry, and head home.

  But Jim Botticelli had said she'd been a great lay. Not good. Great! And who was Tony Landry to turn down something as wonderful as that?

  They jumped in a cab and headed toward Brooklyn.

  Cherry was as drunk as a skunk and extremely amorous. She'd slipped her thong off as soon as they'd settled themselves into the backseat of the cab.

  “Feel how wet you've made me,” she purred in Tony's ear as she guided his hand up between her legs.

  Tony grinned and pushed his finger up into her moist hole.

  Cherry groaned with pleasure as she reached for his belt buckle and began to expertly undo it with one hand. Before he knew it, she had unzipped his pants and had her hand inside the fly of his boxers, wrapped around his dick.

  “Hey, hey,” Tony admonished when she tried to remove his penis from the safety of his pants. “Let's just simmer down here,” he heard himself slur halfheartedly.

  The cabdriver's eyes swung eagerly between the road and his rearview.

  “I've got to see it. I've got to have it in my mouth,” Cherry cried.

  “Well, if you put it that way,” Tony said.

  Cherry sprang back in pleasant surprise. “It's sooo big,” she cooed with delight.

  “Yeah, it is,” Tony said proudly, almost not noticing that the cabdriver had forgotten himself and turned around to see for himself.

  “Hey, what are you, some type of freak?” Tony barked at him. The cabdriver quickly turned his attention back to the road.

  “Go ahead,” Tony said, thrusting his pelvis up toward her. “Put it in your mouth like you said you would.”

  Cherry grinned sheepishly. “But . . . but I didn't know it would be so biiiiiig!” she cried girlishly.

  The cabdriver chuckled and then quickly cleared his throat.

  “C'mon, girl,” Tony urged. The tip of his cock was throbbing.

  Cherry swallowed, tucked her hair behind her ears, and bent her head to receive him.

  Tony watched the bright lights of New York City stream by outside the cab window as Cherry wrapped her succulent lips around his manhood. “Oooh,” Tony moaned softly as he gently pressed his palm against the back of her head.

  Cherry expertly glided her mouth up and down his phallus while her hand caressed his scrotum. Tony flung his head back in ecstasy and raised his hips, thrusting himself deeper into Cherry's mouth.

  “Yes, baby, yes, baby,” he panted as he wrapped his fingers tight around Cherry's hair and began to thrust harder. “I'm coming, I'm coming,” he whispered.

  Cherry pressed her thumb to the base of his
penis and used her remaining four fingers to give his scrotum a tight squeeze. Tony had never been done that way before. The result was mind-blowing and Tony couldn't help but cry out in pleasure. “Jesus fucking Christ!” he screamed as he squirted hot semen into her mouth.

  It was the best blow job he'd ever received.

  Cherry's head popped up and she quickly rolled down the car window and spat his seed out into the night air.

  Dragging the back of her hand across her lips, she smiled and asked, “Did you enjoy it?”

  Tony nodded his head. He had enjoyed it. “You're the best,” he muttered before his eyes fluttered closed. “By the way, what part of Brooklyn do you live in?”

  “Well,” Cherry began, cuddling up close to him, “it's not quite Brooklyn. It's actually Howard Beach.”

  Tony's eyes flew open and he shot straight up. “Did you say Howard Beach?”

  Cherry nodded, doe-eyed.

  “I can't go to no fucking Howard Beach. Do you know what they do to men that look like me there?”

  Cherry levied a playful slap to his arm. “Aw, that's just propaganda.”

  “Propaganda my ass,” Tony said. He leaned forward and shouted through the glass partition, “My man, you can drop me in East Flatbush.”

  “You're not going to come home with me?” Cherry said, already pouting.

  “Nah, maybe another time. Like when it's daylight and I have my Glock with me.”

  CHAPTER

  Twelve

  Well, are you going to go?”

  “I—I don't think so.”

  “But I wanna go!” Seneca wailed.

  “Stop acting like a baby—people are watching.”

  Mildred and Seneca had stopped at a pizza parlor after a day of roaming around the city; Mildred had stupidly mentioned that the annual company picnic was taking place the following weekend.

  “You said you could bring a guest. I want to be your guest—I want to meet an investment banker . . . somebody with some loot!” Seneca squealed as she licked tomato sauce from the corners of her mouth. “And I'm sure that guy you got the jones for will be there too,” Seneca added slyly.

  Mildred blushed. It had been a month since Tony started with the company and she'd seen him exactly two times. Once at the elevator bank, she was standing right next to him and he didn't even notice her. Another time she was on the street and he was on the corner talking to some guy.

  Mildred had spotted him and stopped dead in her tracks as if in a trance. It wasn't until some rude pedestrian pushed her out of the way that she came back to her senses and walked quickly away.

  “I don't have a jones for him,” Mildred retorted. “I just think he's an attractive man.”

  Seneca smirked at her. “Well, if you don't want him, I'll take him.”

  “Shut up!” Mildred shouted. Seneca's statement had hit a nerve. They were friends, but Mildred knew Seneca's track record. She'd bedded her sister's boyfriend back in high school and had laughed it off like it was nothing. Mildred knew that if Seneca could do something like that to family, she herself didn't have a chance.

  “Calm down, calm down,” Seneca whispered. “I'm just kidding. Damn. Anyway, it's not like the man even knows you exist.”

  Mildred rolled her eyes at her. What did she know? Mildred had faith—faith that she and Tony Landry would be together one day.

  The company picnic was a lavish affair that took place in Central Park on a cloudless, warm June day.

  Yes, there were the usual hot dogs and hamburgers, but there was also a rolling raw bar and sparkling wine.

  Mildred and Seneca made their way through the throngs of people, stopping at various food stands to sample the delectable offerings.

  Mildred even had a glass of sparkling wine, which went straight to her head—the reason she agreed to get her face painted in the first place.

  “C'mon, girl, let's do the potato-sack race.”

  “Have you lost your mind?” Mildred laughed. “I'm not doing that.”

  “C'mon—the winners get five hundred dollars!”

  “I don't care if it's five thousand dollars.”

  “I'll do it with you,” a voice floated over to them.

  Mildred and Seneca turned around to see Tony Landry standing behind them. With him was the man Mildred had seen him talking to on the street.

  Mildred was stunned and Seneca looked like she was a minute from jumping his bones. Her mouth dropped open as her eyes slowly moved from his face and then stopped squarely on his crotch.

  “Sure thing, good-looking,” Seneca spouted as she shifted her weight and sucked in her gut so that her already oversize breasts magically expanded in the baby blue tube top that was too small to begin with.

  Mildred tried to say something, but her words were caught in her throat and she watched helplessly as Seneca grabbed hold of Tony's hand and started toward the table where the activities sign-up sheets were located.

  “That's going to be some kind of race, huh?” Errol was talking to Mildred, but Mildred still couldn't find her voice.

  Errol made a face and then repeated his statement, this time a bit louder. “I said, that's going to be some kind of race!”

  Oh God, Mildred thought to herself. He thinks I'm hard of hearing!

  She quickly nodded her head yes.

  “So, you work for Greene Investments?” he said, moving beside her. “Do you know Tony?”

  Mildred's eyes were glued to Tony and Seneca, who were stepping into the sacks.

  She shook her head no and then yes.

  Errol laughed. “Well, do you know him or not?”

  Mildred found her voice, but it was weak. “We met once.”

  Mildred could feel the stranger's eyes boring into her. And why wouldn't he stare? She was acting like a freak. She turned and met his gaze.

  “I'm Mildred,” she said.

  “Nice to meet you, Mildred. I'm Errol. I like the cat whiskers,” he said, pointing to the paint on Mildred's face.

  Tony strolled over to Errol and Mildred, shaking both fists triumphantly in the air, shouting, “I rule! I rule!”

  Seneca skipped contently behind him, winking at Mildred as she came.

  “Now, how much of five hundred dollars are you going to share with me?” Errol asked as he patted Tony heartily on the back.

  “You mean two hundred and fifty,” Seneca sang. “We have to split the winnings.”

  Seneca's statement started a light banter between the two of them. Mildred marveled at Seneca's quick wit and her ability to go toe to toe with Tony. At that moment, Mildred felt a deep admiration and hatred for her friend.

  “Hey, why don't we all go out and have a real meal, spend some of that found money?” Errol suggested.

  Mildred had already started to fade into the background. It seemed to her that she had melted into the crowd and the three of them were yards away on the other side of the open field.

  Tony gave Errol a look that said. Negro, have you lost your damn mind?

  But Errol ignored it and then turned around in search of Mildred.

  “Hey, Mildred, what are you doing way back there? Come on—we're going to help them spend their winnings!” he called to her, waving her back into the fold.

  “O-okay.”

  They ended up at a small Thai restaurant on Columbus Avenue. Seneca and Tony sat next to each other and Errol and Mildred sat across from them, Mildred facing Tony.

  It was all she could do to keep from staring at him. She watched his every move and committed it to memory. She had little to say; she was just grateful to be in his company, even if it meant watching Seneca flirt shamelessly with him.

  Tony on the other hand tried to make the best of the situation, although it turned out he had to work extra hard at not laughing at Mildred, because the painted whiskers played on her severe buck teeth and made her look like a ghastly rabbit.

  Whenever their eyes met, she grinned stupidly before shoving another forkful of food into a mouth
that never seemed to close. And he had the strange feeling that she was undressing him in her mind.

  When the meal was done and the waiter with the annoyed expression made a fourth approach, inquiring if there was anything else he could get for them, they knew it was time to go.

  “Can I give you two a lift to Brooklyn?” Errol offered, even though Tony was giving him that Are you crazy? look again.

  “No thanks,” Mildred squeaked, but she wasn't heard over Seneca's thunderous “Yes!”

  They climbed into the plush leather seats of Errol's Range Rover and Seneca looked as if she were going to climax right then and there.

  “Damn, Errol, this is a nice ride,” Seneca spouted as she moved her hands over the leather.

  “Yes, very nice.” Mildred just thought she should add that.

  The traffic was horrible, and it took them nearly an hour to get into Brooklyn. Mildred was panicked the entire trip: she didn't want to be dropped off first; if she was, she was sure Seneca would pounce on Tony.

  At the last minute and just blocks before they reached her apartment building, she blurted, “Seneca, I need you to come up to my place. I have something I want to show you.”

  Seneca's head was bouncing happily to Fergie's latest tune. “Can't I see it another day?” she said without looking at her.

  “No,” Mildred retorted a little too loudly. “I really need you to see this.”

  Seneca released a long sigh and then leaned over and whispered in her ear, “Why you cock-blocking, Mildred?”

  Mildred's heart began to gallop. She felt the hairs on her neck jump to attention and she suddenly found her hand clamped down on Seneca's knee as she spoke between clenched teeth. “It's important, Seneca,” she said, giving her a painful squeeze.

  “Ow!” Seneca wailed, shoving Mildred's hand away. “That hurt, you know.”

  Mildred stole a look at the rearview mirror and found Errol watching her.

  “Sounds serious,” he said with an air of humor.

  “Yeah, I guess,” Seneca grumbled under her breath.

  They stood on the curb, waving as the truck pulled out. Then Seneca turned to her friend, placed her hands on her hips, and said, “Thanks a lot, Mildred. I was hoping to get the digits. That boy was fine!”