Chapter 3
Dre'
“Hey, man. I'll be at the spot in fifteen,” I said to my lifelong best friend.
“That's what I'm calling about,” Xavier said hesitantly.
“Damn, here we go again. I know you aren't canceling on me again,” I stated, with clear frustration in my tone. This would be the third time in two weeks.
“Dre', man, I'm not going to be able to hang out tonight. Give me a rain check.”
“You are starting to sound like a recording. The same old bullshit every time we are supposed to hook up.”
“IâI'm not intoâ”
“Save it, save it, Xavier. I'm not asking much. I simply want my drinking buddy to swing by the bar, drink a few brews, and shoot the breeze. That's all. Nothing more, nothing less.”
“I know, man, but I'm not up to that tonight, not feeling it. I think I'm going to chill out at home and have an early night.”
“Aren't you going stir-crazy up in that joint? You act like a damn recluse... . All you do is write and chill out at home. I can't believe you came out of your cave for the
Diary of a Stalker
premiere.”
“You're right.”
“Damn, quit saying I'm right. There used to be a day when you would never admit to me being right. And listen to me. Got me sounding like I'm your bitch or something,” I laughed.
We chuckled, and for a few minutes it was like the good old days, before a crazed stalker bitch lurked behind every bush, strapped with leather whips and a healthy dose of revenge heavy on her heart. There was a thin line between love and hate.
“I promise I'll swing by tomorrow, and we can shoot some hoops or play spades and throw something on the grill. There's nothing that beats hot food and cold brews,” Xavier stated.
“I'm holding you to that, my brotha. You haven't had your ass beaten in some time, and I don't want you to forget what it feels like.”
“You don't know what it feels like, either, because I've never had my ass beaten by you, my brotha,” Xavier said and laughed.
“Yeah, whatever. You know the deal. Don't front. Who is the best basketball player between us? We've had this debate going ever since we were nappy-headed boys growing up in those rat-infested projects we called home.”
“And I've been telling you since the first day I whipped your sorry ass all over the courts in the Bedford projects that I was.”
We both laughed at the trash talk we liked to dish out on one another.
“Seriously, man. Check me out tomorrow. I realize you are settling back into living in Houston again after your extended stay in Los Angeles, where you guys were filming, but I miss you, man.”
“And I miss you more, man,” he joked back.
“I'll holla at you tomorrow. Beer is on you.”
“Deal. Later.”
“Hey, hey, Xavier,” I screamed before he disconnected.
“Huh?”
“You know what you need, man?”
“What? Because I'm sure you're going to tell me even if I don't want to know.”
“Get you a piece of ass, and I promise you, you'll feel ten times better by tomorrow.”
“Man, you're a fool.” He chuckled. “That was what got me in the mess I was in to begin with.”
“That was some crazy-ass pussy. Get some that's sane.”
“You ain't never lied.”
“Ain't nothing like some new ass. It cures all. Some pussy a day keeps the doctor away.”
“Later, man. You have lost your damn mind. Oh, I forgot. You ain't never had one.”
I disconnected my cell phone, still chuckling to myself. We always seemed to act like teenagers when we were around each other.
Xavier and I went back many years; we grew up on the mean streets of Houston together. I was closer to that man than to some of my own relatives. We had been through a lot together, good, bad, and ugly. But through it all, our friendship and bond remained intact. I knew without a shadow of a doubt that I could count on him to have my back and vice versa. We just rolled like that.
My man had been through a lot the last couple of yearsâmainly because his dick made some bad decisions concerning this chick named Pilar. I sensed she was bad news from the start. I tried to warn my man, but his other head had a mind of its own. She turned out to be the stalker from hell, and she succeeded in turning his world upside down. Don't get me wrong; I had been through two bad marriages and two bad divorces, so I knew the power of the pussy. It could make the male species make some fucked-up choices, even when our brain was telling us to run like hell. Run like your life depended on it. In Xavier's case, it really did.
Anyhow, that was all water under the bridge now, because psycho had moved on, and my man was blowing up the big screen with a movie based on his true-to-life book,
Diary of a Stalker
. There was talk about some of the actors receiving Oscar nominations, and Xavier was paid. He had finally reached the level he had always talked about when we were growing up. All my man wanted to do was tell tall tales and make movies.
I couldn't be prouder of my friend, because he deserved this and had worked his ass off for everything he'd accomplished. I just wished I had the old Xavier back, the one before psycho Pilar blew in and caused havoc.
Chapter 4
Xavier
“Ohhh, baby, that's it. Suck it!”
“Like this?” she asked, just before squeezing down harder with her full, pretty lip-glossed lips.
“Damn, that's right! Just like that!”
“You like that, Daddy?” she cooed.
“I love it, baby! Goddamn!”
I leaned back in the chair I was sprawled in at the moment, completely nude, with my legs apart. She was buck naked, had a beautiful, curvaceous body, and was planted solidly between my legs, sucking my dick like it was nobody's business.
I reached forward to fondle her breasts and reveled in watching her in action. She was the best I had ever had when it came to oral skills, and I could not wait to reciprocate.
I grabbed the back of her head to force her to take in even more of my tool. She resisted for a fraction of a second and then opened her mouth wider. It was obvious she enjoyed giving head, and I could not be happier. It was heaven on earth.
“That's my girl. Lick my balls. Oh, hell yeah!”
Right before I closed my eyes, lost in another dimension, she pulled one hand away from my dick and inserted her own finger inside her womanhood. I watched in fascination as she continued to give me head and played inside her pussy with one, then two slim fingers. A man could take only so much; I closed my eyes and let out a rip-roaring moan that surprised even me with its intensity as I released my warm liquid into her hot mouth. She eagerly swallowed and licked at the last drops that remained. I closed my eyes and savored the moment. I couldn't wait to get up inside her warm sugar walls and show her who the man was without uttering a single word.
To my surprise, when I opened my eyes, she was still between my legs, but my bloody severed dick was in her hands.
“See I told you, Xavier, if I couldn't have it, no one would. This belongs to me and always will. Don't you ever forget it, either.”
She proceeded to carefully place it in a ziplock baggie, then inside a black bag that I hadn't seen before. The black bag, with its precious cargo, was now mysteriously by her side and zipped up.
“You won't need it anymore, babe.”
I couldn't speak; I could only look on in horror and disbelief. A silent scream was lodged in the back of my throat, unable to escape.
“I left your balls,” she said. “If you don't want them, I can pack them up, too.”
Just as I attempted to say something, anything, she kissed me on the lips, leaving a thick trail of blood, which dripped down my chin. Then she winked at me, threw her head back, and let out this crazy-ass laugh that sent chills up and down my spine.
Around that time, I woke up screaming like a bitch, tossing, and kicking at my sheets. It took me a few seconds to realize it was all a nightmare. However, that still didn't take away the effect it had had on me. With unsteady hands, I reached into my nightstand drawer, pulled out my bottle of liquor, and took a couple of quick swigs. I closed my eyes and relished the burn as the liquor went down. My breathing gradually returned to normal, and my heart slowed, after nearly jumping out of my chest. Slowly, my night terror passed.
After that, I knew I wouldn't be able to sleep anytime soon. I slipped on my boxers and walked downstairs to my home officeâto write the night away. I would slip quietly back into bed as dawn approached, with dark circles under my eyes.
Dre' was correct in his assessment. I needed to reclaim my life before Pilar drove me crazy. What a damn shame that even with her out of my life, she was still creating chaos.
The Beginning
The adorable, chubby-cheeked young child knew from experience to remain quiet and still in her presence. Children were to be seen and not heard. She shyly peeked out of the corner of her eye at herâher mother.
They were sitting in the tiny living room, watching a sitcom on the small TV set. This was definitely a rare occasion, because her mother usually avoided her as much as possible when they were alone. Her mother, as usual, wore a scowl, a cigarette dangling precariously from her lips, and her right foot was in constant motion as she swung it back and forth in a nervous posture.
Anyone peeking through the open curtains would have thought this was a typical family evening, a beautiful young mother and a precious daughter enjoying a peaceful time together. However, the young child knew better. That lesson had been instilled in her early on, and she'd learned it well.
The evenings were always the worst. She always attempted to make herself invisible. She would pull her body into a small, tight ball of arms and thin legs. Poof! Gone. That was what she hoped for most nights: to simply disappear, to evaporate into thin air. She knew she wouldn't be missed. And that realization constantly shattered her heart into a million aching pieces. She longed to feel love and be loved. That was all she dreamed of.
Even in her immature mind, she knew mothers were supposed to love their children, nurture them, and protect them from evil. In this case, her mother was the evil.
Chapter 5
Pilar
Strange. It was like my soul sensed we were close to landing in Houston, Texas. I wondered if he sensed my presence. I wondered if the hairs on the back of his neck and on his arms stood up and came alive, as mine did, simply because we were breathing the same air again. I closed my eyes and moaned. I could feel him on my skin. Taste him in my mouth. Seconds before the pilot's voice came over the plane's intercom system, I awoke from a deep sleep, feeling totally refreshed and renewed.
I placed my seat in an upright position and then stretched as much as possible in my first-class seat and in the empty one beside me. That nap was exactly what I needed in order to rejuvenate myself. The fun was about to begin, and I needed all my strength to participate. Pulling out a small gold and black compact to freshen my makeup, I smiled to myself. It still shocked me when I looked into a mirror nowadays. For a few seconds I didn't recognize the person staring back.
A couple of years ago, when the entire media circus took place that plastered my face and the face of this famous author, Xavier Preston, across TV stations and print media, I did something I never thought I would ever do. I had plastic surgery. Nothing too major or extreme, Ã la Michael Jackson. Just a few tweaks here and there, mainly on my face. It was enough to make me unrecognizable to the general public.
Add some gray contact lenses to the equation, along with coloring, relaxing, and straightening my naturally curly hair. Then throw in a few extra pounds, and I was no longer the person the entire nation saw splashed across their TV screens for weeks. I could come and go freely without the scrutiny of finger-pointing, stares, and frowns. I had even changed my last name; I couldn't resist the urge to keep my first name. So, I was still Pilar. I would always be Pilar and everything that it stood for.
As the wheels of the plane touched down on the runway, I was literally beaming. I was sure happiness from within was radiating outward for all to see. I was back. And Xavier had better watch his back, because this time I was bringing it. Last time was just child's play.
Chapter 6
Dre'
The professional men and women of Houston were slowly, but surely, spilling into the trendy restaurant and after-hours bar. It was the newest hot spot at the moment. Most were still dressed in their business attire, myself included. We all desired the same thing: to unwind, de-stress, and begin our weekend with a good time.
As usual, the women outnumbered the men. I didn't think I would trade living in Houston with any other major city in the country, with the exception of perhaps Atlanta. A man like me could get seriously spoiled rotten here.
What I mean by “a man like me” is that after two unsuccessful marriages, I was no longer looking for love. What the hell was love? I wasn't even sure I believed it existed anymore. It was similar to no longer believing in the Easter Bunny or Santa Claus as a kid.
Two times I thought I was in love, head over heels, and within a few years, the illusions faded, and all I was left with was two angry bitches. Women were like vampires. They sucked, sucked, and sucked, until they'd sucked all the life out of a man. And then they still weren't satisfied. Houston women were notorious gold diggers. Always had their hands out, palm up and wide open, waiting for some man to take care of all their needs. Well, I wasn't the one. Not anymore. Been there. Done that. End of story.
Don't get me wrong. There were many professional, highly intelligent, independent, successful women who had it all. Superwomen. I worked with some. At the end of the day, the money they made on their own was their money; they desired our money to satisfy their wants.
Personally, regardless of what my ex-wives thought, I realized I was a good catch. Hell, I had a well-paying job with many perks as a vice president of a major financial institution. I had made some good investments, even in this recession, and I owned a home and two nice luxury cars. Hell yeah, I had it going on. With my bald head and goatee, my smooth brown skin, women always commented that I resembled that famous black chef G. Garvin. I could afford to lose maybe ten pounds, but other than that I was the man.
I took my time with my drink as I sat at the L-shaped bar and eavesdropped on lively conversations on either side of me. I had a group of beautiful women to my left and a couple of attractive girlfriends to my right. I wasn't in a hurry, and I was in a mellow mood. It was a Friday evening, the night was still young, and I didn't have any specific plans for the weekend ahead.
“Girl, I finally had the opportunity to check out that movie,
Diary of a Stalker
, that you've been raving about for weeks now.” This was coming from one of the women sitting to my right, who was dressed in a black skirt, a blouse, and sexy, come-fuck-me shoes.
“I'm glad, because you are about the only person I know who hadn't seen it. I'm glad you finally decided to check it out,” her slightly overweight girlfriend with the honey blond locks stated matter-of-factly.
They paused long enough to take sips of their colorful drinks before continuing.
“Well, don't keep me in suspense. What did you think?” Locks asked.
“Girl, I was absolutely blown away. I loved it! That Pilar was a true beast.”
“Tell me about it. You hated her and loved her all rolled into one. She was most definitely one not to be played with.”
“I felt bad about some of the abuse she suffered through as a child,” Black Skirt stated. “That broke my heart.”
Locks agreed by nodding.
“Our childhoods really do shape who we eventually become. Some of us have fucked-up childhoods and end up fucked up as adults, too. Others overcome and move forward with a vengeance.”
“I guess you are right. But, yeah, I felt sorry for her at times, too,” Locks said, genuinely looking sad, as if she was about to cry in a few seconds. “Girl, what did you think about that sexy-ass Xavier?” Locks asked a moment later, throwing her hand up toward the heavens.
“Wasn't he as fine as hell? Ain't nothing like those tall, dark, and sexy brothers. Who could ask for more? Lordy, have mercy, Jesus,” Black Skirt cried out. “He could hit this any day,” she added.
I had the opportunity to check her out from the corner of my eye. She was the type of woman that made me instantly hard. I loved assesâbig onesâand thighs on my woman, and Black Skirt had an ample supply of both. The way her cheeks took over that bar stool told it all. I could picture her legs wrapped tightly around my waist as I pounded in and out with no mercy.
“I have heard so many women say he deserved exactly what he received and then some. Pilar showed his ass exactly who he was messing with. Damn, Pilar was bad. I bet he would think twice about who he brought into his bed next time around,” Locks stated with a smirk on her face.
As much as I wanted to jump in and defend my man Xavier, I knew from experience that it was a useless fight. Bottom line, people were going to think what they wanted to. Everyone had an opinion. It also amazed me how women talked graphically to one another when they thought no one was listening. I insisted on my woman having class in public, but behind closed doors it was on. I loved to hear her talk dirty as I gave it back even stronger.
Skirt surprised me with her next comment.
“I don't know if I agree with that. Xavier was simply being a man. Sure, he was thinking with the wrong head, like most men, but I will give him credit. He did inform Pilar up front, on more than one occasion, that he was only in it for the sex.”
“He did, true, but then he kept coming back for moreâgot greedy with it. What's up with that? He had a beautiful fiancée at home, and yet he was out and about, screwing around,” Locks stated, with a scowl on her face, as she played with her long locks between sips of her drink.
“He hadn't learned a simple lesson. In most cases, you can't have your cake and eat it, too.” This was said by Black Skirt.
“Well, he could have all my cake and the frosting and come back for second helpings.” Locks laughed, looking down at herself and taking a few more sips of her drink. “In fact, I'd love for him to lick the frosting.”
“I heard this was based on a true story,” Skirt stated, bopping her head to the music of the live band that had started its set in another section of the restaurant.
“Yeah. You don't remember this story from a few years ago, when that author was plastered all over the TV for assaulting some chick he claimed was stalking him? Well, this is what the movie is based upon.”
“Oh yeah, I do kind of remember it now. I had just moved to Houston, but it made national headlines because of his celebrity status,” Black Skirt replied. “I wonder if he still lives in the area.”
That was my cue. It was perfect timing, because I had just finished my drink and I was tired of pretending not to listen to them.
“Indeed he does,” I stated, looking directly at Black Skirt. I nodded at Locks.
Black Skirt smiled, and in the few seconds it took for her to respond, she sized me up completely, from my expensive suit to my watch and shoes. Locks played the role of not being interested.
“And how would you know that?” Black Skirt asked, licking her glossy lips.
“And why are you all in our conversation?” Locks questioned.
“Let me buy you and your friend another round of drinks, and I'll tell you the entire story. By the way, my name is Dre',” I stated, more to Black Skirt.
“I'm Jennifer, and this is my friend Lisa,” she replied, reaching to shake hands.
They agreed to the drinks, and I knew without a shadow of a doubt that I'd be between those thick thighs before the night was over. If I had been paying more attention to my surroundings, to something besides the two attractive women in front of me, I would have noticed a mysterious woman intensely checking me out, watching my every move. Much like a wild animal stalking her prey.