Sex, Secrets and South Beach (8 page)

They parked the Rover on a small patch
of road surrounded by huge coconut palm trees and strolled along
the sand of Magen’s Bay. Desiree stared out at the ocean, playing
with her hair as it blew in the wind. She arched her back and
allowed her sarong to blow off, knowing Fuzzy had his eye on her.
The padded bra of the top made her look curvier and womanly; the
thong cut of the bottom accentuated her ass. She looked seductively
over her shoulder.

"Come on, Ginny." She reached out for
Ginger's hand, and they ran down the beach and off toward the
water.

"I peeped that, you know," Ginger told
her, referring to her magically disappearing sarong.

"I know," Desiree replied. "I'm gonna
ignore his ass. But right about now I know I look too good to
ignore. He's used to bitches sweating him, so I'm going to be a
challenge."

"Now you're thinking. I know you gonna
get up in them pockets, though."

"Oh, I'm gonna get it all. Not cuz I
want it so bad, but because that nigga had the nerve to act like he
ain't know who I am! You supposed to bow down in the presence of a
queen and serve me properly. Now he's gotta get taxed. Shit, he
coulda had some free pussy. Fuckin' around calling me skinny,
ignoring me and shit," Desiree rambled.

Ginger laughed and splashed water at
her. They frolicked in the waves, and when Desiree was satisfied
that she was sufficiently wet and had jiggled and bounced and
flaunted her body enough to have captured Fuzzy's full attention
and desire, she and Ginger tossed the guys a camera and posed
seductively; prolonging the tease. They even removed their bikinis
and took some nude shots. Desiree could tell by the bulge in
Fuzzy's shorts that he was ripe and ready for the picking. But she
continued to play it cool.

When they returned to the guesthouse,
Fuzzy asked Desiree if he could stay and take her to
dinner.

"Sure. You think I need to eat a
little more anyway, don't you?"

"So Ginger tell you what I say, eh?"
His rich voice caressed her ears, breaking down her
defenses.

"Yeah, she did. But she didn't have to
say shit. You've been playing me since I got here. I can tell you
aren't feeling me." Desiree played innocent. She knew the effect
she was finally having on Fuzzy.

"Nah, it's not that. You cover
everything up with baggy clothes."

"You could have seen more if you came
to Red's," she replied suggestively.

"Well, what about now? Can I see more
now?" Fuzzy licked his lips. Desiree answered his question by
slowly peeling off her moist swimsuit. She stood before him
nude.

"You got a fat monkey to be a little
gal," he said, referring to her genitalia.

"It bites too," she said, giggling.
Fuzzy walked over to her and placed his hand gently but firmly on
her pussy.

"Owww," he groaned.

Even his groans have an
accent
, Desiree thought as she threw her
head back and surrendered to his touch. Fuzzy stroked her into a
frenzy, then pulled his hand away right when she was on the brink
of climaxing.

"Lay down," he ordered. Desiree
obliged. Fuzzy spread her legs and tasted her.

Desiree and Fuzzy never made it out to
dinner. But he feasted on her body until she couldn't move and the
bed had crashed through the frame and lay crooked on the
floor.

G
inger and Desiree arrived at the Miami
Lakes home tanned and tired. Desiree and Fuzzy had spent the
rest of her stay in St. Thomas together, smoking, fucking, and
shopping. Nose wide open, Fuzzy lavished gifts on her from Ralph
Lauren and Versace and had copped her a few pieces from a local
jeweler. She had a pair of diamond studs, a tennis bracelet, and a
Colombian emerald ring. Desiree, sprung off the gifts and the dick,
sucked and fucked Fuzzy until he couldn't get it up
anymore.

"Did you have fun?" Ginger finally
asked as she kicked her shoes off at the door, dropped her bags,
and flopped on the couch.

"Hell yeah!" Desiree enthused, joining
her on the couch. "Got off to a rocky start, but I have no
regrets."

"You gonna go back?" Ginger
asked.

"Yeah. He's gonna fly me back just to
kick it sometime next month, or so he says. If he follows through,
I'm game; otherwise, it was cool," Desiree told her.

"I feel you. But I think he likes you.
He came up off some major paper."

"I know!" Desiree was excited despite
how tired she was.

"You're getting pretty good," Ginger
said, complimenting her skills.

"Getting?" Desiree cocked her head
back.

"Okay, you're a natural at this shit,
Desi. All you had to do was get your confidence up. Now you see
what you can do?"

"Yeah," Desiree admitted. "So what we
gonna do tonight? It's still early enough for us to take a nap and
then go to work, or we can go kick it. What's it gonna
be?"

"Damn, girl! Why can't we just chill?"
Ginger moaned. She was exhausted and would have enjoyed relaxing
and reminiscing about her man in the VI.

"Cuz we'll get lazy, and one day will
turn into a week," Desiree said knowingly "It's all about the
Benjamins, baby. I need that scrilla." Desiree rubbed her fingers
together for emphasis.

"Well, shit, I say we kick it. I
worked my ass off in St. Thomas. Those concrete floors are murder
on the knees. Let's go to Chaos," Ginger suggested.

"Cool. But we're gonna go to work
tomorrow. Monday night fights, you know we gonna get cake. Now get
a little bit of rest," Desiree ordered, then went to do the
same.

Desiree loved Sunday nights
on South Beach.
The
streets were like a fashion show, and not some local church
function, more like the couture shows in New York or Paris. The
strip was the real deal. All the big-money designers were being
represented: Dolce & Gabbana, Versace, Roberto Cavalli, Chanel,
and Chloe. People were rocking thousands of dollars on their backs
with no mercy. Desiree was always in awe that on a Sunday, people
were out in full force, kicking it like there was no
tomorrow.

They rolled through Shadow Lounge
briefly for drinks. Desiree absentmindedly flirted with a pro
basketball player and locked his number in her newly acquired cell.
She was getting over the whole athlete fascination. Ginger had been
right; they were almost always more trouble than they were worth.
If they weren't total assholes, they were insecure as hell. Plus,
she quickly realized that most of them had a long-time girlfriend
somewhere and considered her a trick, a fling, a tool to get a nut
off. It was easy not to get caught up; she just went straight for
the wallets. But a lot of them were cheap as hell. They expected a
woman to feel that it was a privilege to fuck with them, and no
further payment was really deemed necessary. It was like getting
blood from a turnip.

After about an hour or so they went to
Chaos. Desiree felt her pulse quicken as she took in the curved,
chrome arch sculpture that graced the front entrance. Chaos was the
shit! There were plenty of hotboys making their way into the spot.
Desiree really liked them. The street hustlers were a different
breed than the celebrities. They came up off the ends lovely. It
wasn't just about making paper for them, it was about the floss.
They always made sure they represented to the fullest, and their
girls were well taken care of. Desiree especially liked the New
York ones, all hard-core and thugged out. She liked to reduce them
to kittens who purred for her with stacks of cash.

They headed straight for the
bar.

"Two waters, please," Ginger ordered
from the surfer dude bartender. Desiree looked at Ginger like she
was crazy.

"I want a cosmo," Desiree said. Ginger
grabbed the bottled waters with one hand and Desiree's hand with
the other. "Come in the bathroom with me," Ginger ordered, and
marched her into the ladies' lounge.

"Don't drink any liquor," she hissed
to Desiree in the corner. "Pop this." Ginger slipped Desiree a
small pink tablet, then swallowed one of her own.

"What is it?" Desiree asked after she
had swallowed it.

"X," Ginger replied.

"Word?"

"Chill, and drink lots of water,"
Ginger instructed. "And juice. Drink lots of juice. Any juice with
vitamin C will enhance your roll."

"My roll?" Desiree asked her
quizzically.

Ginger rolled her eyes skyward. "Your
high! God, Desiree, sometimes you are so slow!"

Desiree chugged the contents of the
water bottle and shrugged. She didn't know what all the hype was
about–she didn't feel anything different–but fifteen minutes later
she began to feel a little light-headed.

"Look at me." Ginger held Desiree's
head and stared at her.

"Yeah, you feelin' it. Your pupils are
dilated." Ginger laughed as Desiree smiled blankly at her. Her eyes
looked especially catlike.

"I love you, Ginny. You're my best
friend. You're like a sister to me, and I love you so much!"
Desiree grinned wildly. Ginger laughed at her.

"Do you hear that?"

"What? 'Big Pimpin''?" Ginger shrugged
her shoulders and began to dance to Jay-Z.

"The music sounds funny. Damn, you're
dancing in slow motion!" Desiree pointed at her.

"Why did I give you that pill?" Ginger
shook her head and got them both some juice.

"I feel like love!" Desiree chanted as
she danced to her own beat. She looked crazy as hell, but she was
cute, so she could get away with looking crazy. Besides, Desiree
was far from the only person in the club who was rolling. There
were dozens of people whose eyes looked like those of a cat,
professing their love to anyone who would listen, grinding their
jaws as the effects of MDMA wreaked havoc on their nervous
systems.

Desiree felt like every pore in her
body was open and the music was sinking into her, replacing the
blood in her veins. The bass was controlling her heart, the lights
controlling her eyes; Desiree was a slave to the rhythm. She
thought she felt cool air blowing through a vent in the ceiling,
sending a chill through her body, but everywhere she moved, she
swore she felt the breeze, as if it were following her.

"I'm cold. I'm going to the bathroom,"
Desiree sang as she ground her teeth.

"Mmm 'kay." Ginger smiled at her. She
was deep in conversation about nothing with an equally high man at
the bar.

"Like I was saying, really, who
decided that green means go and red means stop?" Desiree heard
Ginger telling him. "Green is the color of money. Money makes the
world go round. Red is the color of blood. Blood makes the body go
around. Do you realize the whole conspiracy in all of
that?"

Desiree went to the bathroom thinking
about blood. She could barely stand straight as she crouched over
the toilet seat. Even though she was high as hell, she wasn't high
enough to put her ass on a public toilet seat. All kinds of shit
went on in the bathroom. She could hear the muffled voices of
others, but it all sounded like gibberish. She flushed the toilet
and straightened her clothes, then placed her ear near the crack in
the stall door cautiously.

"Y'all can't fade me! Y'all can't even
fade me! I'm covered in the blood of the lamb! Rebuke and yield all
of you demons!" Desiree yelled at the patrons as she burst out of
the stall. Most of them said nothing; they just looked at her
knowingly. Their stares irritated her.

"I see your souls, people. You need to
repent the evil of your ways. Jesus is corning back for us, can't
you understand that? He still loves us!" Desiree looked pleadingly
at the women in the restroom. Most of them were laughing now. But a
few people nodded in agreement.

"She might be high or drunk or
whatever, but she ain't said anything that wasn't true. Just
because I'm in the club don't mean I don't love the Lord," Desiree
heard a girl say.

"Thank you! Praise his name!" Desiree
clapped her hands together and danced around like she was possessed
with the Holy Ghost.

"You're up in here on a Sunday,
though," her friend teased her.

"Rebuke and yield. Smite thy tongue.
It is Monday now. The cock has crowed on a new day, nonbeliever."
Desiree looked into the ceiling, arms akimbo.

"Just say no," the bathroom attendant
muttered under her breath.

"I will." Desiree turned to face
her.

Does she have supersonic
hearing or what?
the attendant
thought.

"I will say no to the materialism of
society! Here. I need not this earthly possession." Desiree handed
her a hundred-dollar bill just as Ginger entered the
bathroom.

"You're still in here? Oh my God, I've
been looking for you for an hour! Have you been in here all this
time?" Ginger grabbed Desiree by the shoulders.

"Yes," the bathroom attendant remarked
dryly, pocketing the Benjamin discreetly.

"Don't blaspheme, Ginny. Don't use the
Lord's name in vain." Desiree looked solemn.

"Uh, okay. Let's go home." Ginger
tugged at Desiree gently as they left Chaos through the back
door.