Here’s a rough lil’ piece of a book I’m working on. As yet untitled, it features a few characters from Fiona Love, including Natty, who will now have his love story told. As the story opens Reiko is his love interest, but she has some other ideas about what he needs. This book will also include her love story with a new stranger…
“What are you wearing?”
“A face mask and some fuzzy socks.”
Natty groaned and laughed at the same time, and I smiled.
“You’re killing me.”
“Why do you think something’s wrong?”
I snorted. “It’s the middle of the day when you’re usually in the studio, and you’re calling me asking me about clothes. What’s wrong?”
He sighed audibly. “I just had to fire a musician.”
I grunted. “That sucks. But I’m sure you had good reason.” There was an audible rasp from the lighter and my joint catching fire.
“That shit fucked my mind up. I let everybody go for the day. You workin’?”
He laughed. “Can I come over?”
“Whatchu’ think?” I repeated.
And got more laughter. “I’ma bring you something to eat.”
“Wine,” I agreed. “Say, did you ever replace that dingbat?”
He’d finally fired his worthless secretary last week. I’d been on a campaign to get the ho dismissed since she stopped passing along my messages a few months ago after I called her on the condition of the office.
“No, I haven’t had time. You know somebody?”
“Yeah.” I hung up.
Company. I looked around. My room was fucked up. I was in the middle of a closet purge, and there was shit everywhere. I still wasn’t sure if working with Natty – and by association with Lani and the rest of his team – was a blessing or a curse. But I was glad to sing. I’ve missed it since I left the road and came back to take care of the family business.
Know what? I’ma just stuff all this shit in the bottom of the closet and close the door. Natty ain’t no stickler. I could leave this shit where it is and he’d probably come in, ask if it was okay, then walk on top of it all.
It was one of his finer qualities. The complete absence of judgment. Once, when I apologized for inviting him into a messy home, he told me that rather than judge someone on something transient like whether or not their house was clean, he preferred to consider their treatment of live objects.
“People, for instance,” he said, without a hint of humor.
People, indeed. I had the perfect person in mind to be his new secretary. She was sweet, cute, and terribly innocent. I estimated it would take a few months for her to get under his skin, and maybe a few more for him to get it in his head to break things off with me.
With a man like Natty on the hook, most women would sooner die than set up their own replacement – come to think of it, I’m pretty sure I saw that same idea played out in a movie at some point – but this is different. I love Natty, but I know if we keep on eventually he’ll want to get married, and that’s not for me. At least not with him.
I sighed. I would miss him. He was fine as hell, with money to burn and so much talent sometimes it’s scary. He’s smart, sweet and fabulous in bed. But my gut said no. And times gone by when I ignore my gut I always live to regret it.
My gut was enthusiastic about Cece, though. I had to get her in his office to see what would happen. I called my friend Tommy.
“Nat, would you please get that silly girl off my phone? Do we have write-ups on her? We need to get rid of her. Hello?”
“You firing somebody?”
“Hell, yeah. This stupid broad think she gon’ come to work here to take a lunch, she can forget it. What’s up?”
“I need Cece.”
“Can I have her for the rest of this week? I know I said I was gonna let her go, but she’s in the middle of a project.”
“That’s cool. She can start with Natty beginning of next week.”
“I’m so glad we found another job for her. She’s such a doll, and such a great little worker.”
“Well, I think she’ll be perfect for him, and the timing is right.”
“Yep. I’ll let her know, shall I?”
“I gotta run. Peninsula this week?”
I took a shower and did all the things that women do to get ready for sex. Then I made the bed and turned down the sheets. My last housekeeping task was to set the table. We might or might now eat there, but in case he felt like eating at table, I would facilitate us getting in bed that much faster.
I’ve had men comment, and not positively, over my eagerness for sex. But Natty appreciates this about me. “It’s one of your finest qualities,” he once assured me, then fucked me willingly and well in a guest bathroom at a party we were at.
For the right woman he was easy to rouse, and that night I’d been fucking with him nonstop: my hand on his leg under the table, my tongue on his neck when I was supposedly whispering in his ear. I stroked his arms, chest, the back of his neck, hair, hands, damn near everything, and made good headway undoing his fly under cover before he stopped me.
“Fucking quit it,” he hissed in my ear. “You want me to have walk around with a fucking boner?”
“Yeah,” I answered, and got up and went to the bathroom. When I looked over my shoulder to see was he following, I got an eye full of his shirt; he was right behind me. He pulled me the rest of the way by the hand.
The upstairs bathroom was far from the party and had a lock on its door. We were gone for nearly an hour. Anyone with their ear to the keyhole would have gotten an earful ‘cause he sounds wonderful when I have in my mouth. His brothers rolled their eyes when we reappeared, looking relaxed and fresh faced from a wash after the fact.
I think I’ll blow him after dinner. He’ll try to fight me, not wanting to shoot his load unless he’s buried inside me, but you can’t always get what you want. Sometimes you have to take what comes and be glad to get it….