Fiona Love Read online

  Daney and his doppelganger came face to face surrounded by scantily clad women. The two men exchanged the nod and stared at each other. Up close the similarities between them were superficial: black hair, green eyes, height, but the sexiness each wore as easily as his own particular swagger, that was the biggest differentiator. Daney was the gilded older sibling, and Tino his lazy younger brother.

  “This is him, not that one,” Netty told the strippers, and both women abandoned Tino to bum rush Daney.

  “Fiona,” he said nervously, looking over his shoulder at her as they led him away.

  “Don’t worry, baby. I told them it was your first time and to take it easy.”

  Tino laughed as Fiona and Netty came over to warm his sides. He waited until Daney’s broad back had turned the corner then kissed Fiona’s cheek. “That’s more like it.”

  Buck and Paul and another gorgeous red-haired model named Buster that Paul was managing had Daney’s back. Coincidentally, Tino had brought three guests as well. There were five strippers, two black ones, a blonde and two brunettes, all wearing G strings and high heeled platforms. Two girls’ bras were missing fabric around the nipples.

  Fiona watched as two handed around the canapés she’d ordered and fetched drinks. Sugar said they didn’t mind, since she’d promised this would be an easy night, one where absolutely no sex was required, they’d been paid in advance and could keep all tips. The blonde brought over a tray holding coconut shrimp and cocktail sauce.

  “Hungry?” she asked.

  “Always,” said Fiona, biting down on a shrimp.

  The blonde looked over at Daney, who was trying unsuccessfully not to touch either of the two women gyrating at his back and in his lap, and laughed good-naturedly. “You better rescue him, if you want him. Pepper and Cherry will wear him out quick.”

  She was the one who felt worn out. She snagged one of the beers the black stripper with the ass of the world was offering. Ass of the world. Fiona had cracked up when Netty first said it, but she could see why. She tipped most of the beer down her throat as she contemplated the high, apple-shaped marvel. She sipped the beer and yawned. She hadn’t got a lot of sleep last night. She’d slip off and nap for 20 minutes. No one would notice. Not with all the peppers and cherries and joys dancing around.

  Daney woke her an hour later pulling off her net sheath.

  “Mmmm,” Fiona moaned against his marauding mouth. “Baby. I fell asleep.”

  “I see that. Why’d you do this if you were tired? You know you’re all I want,” he rasped, pulling her onto her hands and knees. He reached under her to palm her dampening cleft, and used one hairy knee to open hers. “You’re missing the whole party. Is this how you do? Nip off where no one can see you and wait to see who follows?”

  She felt his erection nuzzling in the moisture that welcomed him. Her body unconsciously clenched trying to draw him in, and he groaned.

  “Could be. Seems like it worked okay this time.” She reached around and slapped his ass, forcing him forward as he fought to stay motionless. She popped him again, hard enough to make a good loud sound. “You like my new ring?” she splayed her right hand against the headboard.

  He thrust in slow, letting her feel it. He couldn’t hold the ace though. When his hips rested against the curves of her ass he drew back immediately and surged in hard.

  “Jesus, girl. You’re gonna fuckin’ kill me.”

  “Shut up,” she gasped; he’d caught onto a rhythm.

  He groaned and came down over her back for a hot, soft moment. She writhed sinuously beneath him, working herself onto the hard heat filling her. She knew he was trying to slow down so it could last, but she couldn’t help squirming. She began to breathe through her mouth. She arched her back and pulled one of his hands around to stroke her clit.

  “Can’t hold it?” she asked, when he stopped moving completely.

  “I’m…trying to.”

  She chuckled at the gritted words, and clenched her sheath teasingly around him. He rewarded her with anguished moan, and she began to play a physical game of cat and mouse. She’d hunch her body and withdraw almost to the tip then press back to push him leisurely back in. She did it fast and slow, then mixed it up with a series of both, all like velvet-lined blows on his cock.

  Daney had never concentrated so hard in his life. His balls felt like they were trying to crawl inside his body. He wished for a third hand, not wanting to remove his two from her breast and the soft, eager wet heat of her sex.

  Fiona knew what he wanted. She hilted him and reached back to give his balls a firm but gentle tug. He jerked and panted then groaned out his thanks.

  Neither of them could hold out much longer. Daney was primed from his interactions with the strippers. Fiona could smell the women’s perfume clinging to him, and always excited by the sight and smell of her lover she was also incredibly aroused at the thought of another woman trying to be where she was. He’d left them to find her, and she could tell that he hadn’t come.

  He was always heated like this for that first nut of the night. He’d struggle not to come too fast, though she never minded, not with second and sometimes third times to look forward to.

  Her body had slipped into that perfect state where she could come at any moment, but it just feels good on top of good on top of good. But Fiona felt her mind begin to go. The pleasure was too intense, rising too steady. She was losing control.

  Focus, she told herself. This is Daney’s party. But that was the problem. She was too focused, focused on the pleasure building, riding her in fast cresting waves. She could only hope he was with her and pray he didn’t stop moving before the ride was over.

  “Daney,” she gasped to warn him she was close.

  “Yes, yes,” he groaned, and they came within seconds of each other in a shower of shudders and gasps.

  Fiona shivered when he slipped free of her body and fell forward onto her nose.

  Daney dealt with the condom and collapsed beside her, pulling her into his arms as they succumbed to one of those dive down under the covers and conk out after a great fuck sleeps. Neither moved an hour later when Tino knocked and poked his head around the door.

  “They still up?” Netty rasped, hoarse from smoking and yelling during beer-drinking games for minor sexual acts.

  He pulled back and closed the door on an image of Fiona’s beautiful brown body protectively surrounded by Daney’s hard pale strength. “Naw. They’re out.”

  Netty began to load the dishwasher. “He’s gotta fly out for a week to Miami. But he’s coming back for the party.”

  Tino listened to this information with interest. He brought some beer bottles over and emptied them into the sink. He began to help Netty clean, something he hadn’t done in years, and found out Fiona didn’t plan on taking Daney to the airport. He always ordered a car.

  Once they had the kitchen tight, Netty yawned. “Tha’s good. The living room’s not bad. I stayed on it during the party. Is everybody asleep or out of here?”

  “My boys left with the girls, and everyone else took cabs home.” He yawned and pushed up his t-shirt to scratch at the soft hair on his chest. “I’m tired.”

  “I don’t think there are any empty bedrooms left.”

  “Couch. Unless you’re sharing?”

  “Would it matter if I said no? You just gon’ wait ‘til I’m sleep and crawl in anyway.”

  ******

  Daney got back from Miami the night of Fiona’s party.

  “I’m landing in 10 minutes. Then I’m going home to change clothes, and I’m all yours,” he told her late that afternoon.

  “You sound tired.”

  “I am,” he laughed.

  “Take you a power nap before you come over. Things probably won’t get rollin’ til’ 11.”

  This was bull shit. Andrea had called at noon to say that so many people were trying to get in they’d have to show up at least an hour before they’d anticipated.

  “Power
nap, huh?”

  “Yup. Lay your clothes out, take a shower, then set your alarm. You could catch a few hours and not miss anything.”

  “Except you.”

  Fiona laughed softly. “True. But you’ll get me soon enough.”

  “Nuh-huh. You’ll be surrounded by your friends and fans, Andrea and the rest of your posse, and I won’t be able to get near you.”

  “Never. You’ve got a direct line to my heart.”

  He grunted whenever she said anything like that, but he secretly loved it. He knew these little lyrical gems were original, spontaneous and his. She didn’t interact with other men the way she did with him, and he’d seen her with more than one, including Tino.

  She’d never actually told him that he loved him, but he believed she did. She was different with him. She treated him special, with tenderness and patience. He knew he stayed on her mind. She’d told him so.

  ******

  Fiona’s first outfit was a rich jewel purple vintage dress Netty had found at a thrift store. It was at least 15 years old, in immaculate condition and it fit her as though it had been hand-tailored. The skirt hugged her hips, fell perfectly to her knees, and at her waist ruchs gathered around a diamond made of colored sequins. She looked like a rich bad girl from Dynasty, and people went crazy when they saw her.

  Netty watched as her boss waved at the crowd waiting in a neat line down Tino’s front walkway. Many waved back with their invitations in hand. “You ain’t got nothin’ to say to me tonight?” she teased, already seeing spots from the camera flashes.

  “Happy birthday!” shouted a chorus of eager voices.

  “Is this shit gon’ stay up?” Netty asked Sugar, patting Fiona’s natural and the tiny, strategically placed silver pins that glinted even in dim lighting. She’d suggested painting finger and toenails a glittery pearl color. Fiona had contributed two glasses of Veuve Clicquot to the proceedings, and when she glided up to the door on black stilettos with big purple rhinestones shining, her warm smile would have loosened the hardest heart.

  Andrea met them.

  “You shoulda used the limo. Everyone in the world is trying to get in!” she hissed happily, towing Fiona past the burly man and jazzily dressed Black girl working the door to where Tino was waiting with more champagne.

  Netty caught the look Fiona tossed over her shoulder. It said clearly, come get me soon! She chuckled and helped herself to one of the canapés making the rounds. “Hear no evil, speak no evil,” she said, snagging a glass of champagne next before merging with the crowd.

  Fiona danced for hours. Big had dug deep into his crates and intertwined her favorite new and old cuts with Cleo and Netty’s help. God bless them. Queen Latifah’s U-N-I-T-Y began to rock.

  A photographer trailed her as she danced her way from group to group, laughing and collecting compliments and quite a few gifts. She opened everything right there in front of the person in a great fanfare of ripped wrapping paper. Then she gushed ecstatically and gifted the giver with a hug, a kiss or both. Gag gifts had her rolling her eyes and guffawing before she spun away to demand of someone, “Look at this crazy shit!”

  The loot was then passed off to one of Andrea’s girls who noted carefully who’d given it. Let one thank you note be wrong, Andrea promised threateningly. Another one followed behind Fiona all night taking empty glasses, fetching napkins, snacks, whatever. Fiona only had to turn with a questioning look on her face and one of two mini-Andreas was there waiting.

  “Remind me to give Andrea an’ ‘nem a lil’ bonus after the party,” she told Netty who nodded and steered her toward someone else waiting to speak to her. “Was up mu’fucka! I ain’t seen you in fa’eva’!”

  After Fiona had partied herself into a sweaty mess, Sugar wiped her down, and Netty bundled her into her next costume, a black strapless satin dress with a loose mini skirt that rippled and swung as she walked in black ballerina flats. The pins were removed from her hair, which was then pulled into a high crown by a hot pink gele head wrap. Her skin was glowing from dancing and laughing, and while she was being helped into her lace gloves, Fiona managed to blow half a joint.

  “Girl, you know you look good,” said a handsome Black actor who’d been on a popular soap for years. They’d flirted on and off when their paths crossed, but he was happily married, and she liked his wife enough to tease their now 11-year-old son. When he’d been a rambunctious 5-year-old she’d taken him for the day, and when it was time for him to go home he’d demanded to spend the night. Fiona still sent gifts and called on his birthday.

  “Thank you, sir. So do you. Where yo’ girl?”

  “At home of course,” he quipped. “So I can flirt and pretend like I’m single for the evening. I’ma catch up later to get a real birthday kiss.” He laughed, kissing her hand before someone pulled her away.

  Daney came in not long after her second costume change, greeted her with a hard squeeze, then fastened a necklace around her throat.

  “Now you know why I didn’t put jewelry on you,” Netty grinned.

  Fiona looked down to admire the subtle sheen of the black pearls and the brighter shine of the diamonds that separated them. The necklace was beautiful, and she knew it had cost an absolute fortune. Tears welled.

  “Oh, shit,” Netty muttered, raising her hand discreetly for Sugar.

  “You don’t like it?” he teased, clasping her hand high against his chest, the other gripped her waist possessively as a camera flashed.

  “It’s fabulous,” she husked, sniffing and swiping at her eyes with a careless hand, the hand where his last gift sparkled. “Thank you, love.”

  Sugar appeared to deftly wield cloths, spritz and slicks of shiny moisture for pouting lips.

  “You smell powdery,” he whispered, ignoring Sugar’s anguished squeak as he rubbed his nose along the skin behind Fiona’s ear.

  Fiona could feel him smiling, and she grinned.

  “I know, right? Like a baby’s ass. Sugar keeps cleaning me with wipes.” She batted her beauty girl away, but Sugar just shook her head and moved determinedly close again to begin repairs.

  “You glow,” he said and would have kissed away most of the newly applied gloss had Sugar not clapped her hand over his mouth. She squeaked again when Daney bit her. “I can’t get no love so I’m goin’ for a drink.”

  “Paul’s looking for you. Are you meeting somebody?”

  “Why? He has someone with him?”

  She nodded, trying again to swat the immovable Sugar. “Come back soon.”

  “I’ll be with you all night,” he promised and dodging Sugar one last time, stole a kiss before the crowd swallowed him up.

  “You are getting on my nerves,” Fiona told her girl, and was ignored as her lip gloss was retouched.

  ******

  “Check this out,” Sugar said to Netty in the kitchen, where yet another of Andrea’s girls was presiding over the staff and guarding Fiona’s Veuve bottles.

  “What happened?” Netty asked. She was already three-quarters of the way drunk. Her only job tonight was to dress Fiona, protect her from the grabbers who would hem her in and suck up vast amounts of time with boring bull shit, and celebrate. She’d done all three for hours and had told Fiona not to get into too much trouble while she took a break.

  “I’m standing by the patio talking to one-a the security guards and I hear this white girl tell him, ‘I’m her new makeup artist.’ She spins him this little yarn about how she’s late and can he please sneak her in so she can set up and keep her job, and this and that, and I’m like, Marvin. This lash-battin’ bitch is lyin.’ She looked at me. Her blue eyes got beady, and I was like, yeah. I’m Sugar, her makeup artist? Good night!”

  Netty laughed. “Serves her right for tryna crash our party.”

  “I sicced one of Andrea’s girls on her ass.”

  Netty chuckled so hard she spit up champagne. “Thank God for the minions! I ain’t mad at you, Sugar. You see Daney give Fiona that bad-ass black
pearl necklace?”

  “Tight?”

  “Virgin. With diamonds. Beautiful.”

  Sugar whistled. “Was up on a plate?” she asked one of the staff. She poured herself some champagne as steamed veggies, tiny barbecued turkey sausages and mac and cheese were assembled. “That was fast,” she whispered to Netty. “They must know you tippin’.”

  “Okay? I ain’t mad. Those turkey sausages are crack,” Netty said, pinching one from her friend’s plate. “Don’t eat ‘em. Or the little crab cake bites. You’ll regret it. I’ve had like two dozen already.”

  “This mac and cheese tastes weird.”

  “Bad?”

  Sugar took another bite. “No. Different.”

  “That’s Gruyére cheese.”

  “Ah.”

  “And it has –”

  Sugar hit her elbow suddenly, and Netty opened her mouth to ask what the fuck when her friend turned her peremptorily around. “This is Daney’s friend Tomas, Netty. He wanted to meet you.”

  “Yeah?” Netty asked, eying the tall Latin. He had to be a model. One, he was Daney’s friend. Two, he was drop-dead gorgeous. He smoldered in that deliberate way Daney did, but she saw humor behind his limpid black eyes.

  “You are Ms. Bring-me-something-back?”

  Of all the things he could have said, that she hadn’t been expecting. She burst out laughing, and champagne left her nose for the second time that night.

  Sugar pounded her on the back and Tomas unsuccessfully hid a chuckle behind his hand.

  “Yeah,” Netty wheezed when she’d caught her breath. “That’s me.”

  “Is that Andrea over there?” Sugar asked, and left.

  They watched her stride off then looked at each other. Later Netty would swear she’d been piss drunk and hallucinating. That they hadn’t stared at each other for a long, fictional moment before he said, “I think I know why Daney wanted us to meet.”

  “Why?” she asked.

  But he just shook his head and grabbed her hand. “Come with me.” She had time to grab one turkey sausage and her glass before they followed Sugar.