One Taste Page 7

  Drenched in sweat, he yanked the soggy bandana from around his head, allowing a curtain of shimmering blue-black hair to fall past his shoulders. With a hand towel, he dried his hair, face, neck, and massive, iron-hard shoulders. He pulled a dry bandana from the top drawer, gathered up his heavy hair, and tied it back from his face before beginning ten sets of one-arm pushups.

  “Cock strong,” he repeated with a grunt as he lifted his two-hundred-and-fifty-pound muscular frame with one sweat-streaked arm. Many of the recovering females who lived in the womens’ house frequently hit on Cochise, boldly offering sex, but he politely declined. He thought he’d been exercising sound judgment when he got involved with Shawna but their “arrangement” ended on a horrible note. He knew for certain that getting involved with another addict could only be a recipe for disaster.

  His thoughts returned to Shawna. He shook his head, sorry that he’d hurt her, disappointed with himself for not recognizing that she’d wanted more than he was able to give. No more friends with benefits, he sternly told himself. One day he’d meet someone special. He knew Tierra would want him to fall in love again. But he wasn’t ready. So, in the meantime, he’d deal with his sex drive by beating his meat. Yeah, until he was completely free of his demons, he’d have to get used to taking matters into his own hands. Literally.

  CHAPTER 11

  Although the rental agent had given both Matt and Onika a key, the moment they left the office Matt dutifully turned his key over to Onika, placing it in her outstretched hand. Like a lovesick puppy, he followed her from room to room. The place had been freshly painted. A paint-spattered metal chair, two empty cans of paint, a tarp, duct tape, and masking tape were left in a clutter inside the kitchen. “These mufuckas must be crazy leaving all this bullshit for us to clean,” Onika complained. “You need to deduct half of next month’s rent! Humph!” She placed a hand on her lean hip. “I don’t know who they think they fuckin’ with.”

  “What do you want to do with the den, baby girl?” Matt changed the subject, hoping to improve Onika’s mood.

  “I’m turning the den into a game room,” she said, suddenly cheerful. “I want a PlayStation3 and a sixty-inch plasma screen up on the wall. This room is gon’ be red and black. Red walls, black leather swivel chairs, and we gonna have to pull up these cheap-ass rugs and lay down some thick-ass, ruby-red carpets.”

  “I don’t think we can paint the walls or pull up the carpets,” Matt said worriedly. “We can’t deface the property. I’d have to pay through the nose if we put holes in the wall trying to mount a large TV—”

  “Whatever,” she said, cutting Matt off. “What they don’t know won’t hurt ’em. Besides, can’t nobody tell me what to do in my own crib,” Onika complained, her lips protruding.

  “You’re right, baby,” Matt cajoled. He reached for her hand. “Why don’t you take your clothes off so you can ride my face?”

  Eyes widened in disbelief, Onika reared back. She placed a fist on her slender hip. “You must be out of your muthafuckin’ mind! I’m not getting down on the floor with your dumb ass.”

  “What’s wrong, baby? You promised.”

  “Yeah, but I thought I’d have a bed or something in here. I ain’t doing shit until we pick up some furniture. And not no used furniture, either,” she added with disdain.

  “Onika. I’m not a rich man,” Matt said, carefully monitoring his tone. “I can’t afford to buy brand-new furniture just yet. Be reasonable, baby.”

  Onika folded her arms. “No! Ain’t nothin’ to be reasonable about. Ain’t no furniture up in this dip. Ain’t no dishes, no forks, no spoons…” Onika sucked her teeth. “We ain’t got nothin’ up in here.”

  “I’m sorry,” Matt said miserably. “You’re right. I should have had more foresight.” He tried to embrace her.

  “Don’t touch me! You get on my fuckin’ nerves,” Onika fumed. In a matter of seconds, she balled a fist, drew her arm back, and hooked Matt in his left eye. The sound echoed in the empty apartment. The unexpected power in her small, angry fist knocked his Eagles cap askew.

  “Ugh!” Matt grunted. One hand reflexively covered the injured eye. The other hand quickly twisted around the brim of the worn green cap.

  “See that shit,” she said, huffing and puffing. “See what you made me do? That’s what you get for putting your hands on me when I’m mad.”

  “I’m all right. It’s okay, baby,” Matt said as he moved quickly to the bathroom to inspect the damage.

  Looking more interested than concerned, Onika followed Matt into the bathroom. “Aw, it ain’t nothing,” she said with a tsk as she stood behind him and spoke to his unblemished reflection.

  “You’re right,” he said, sounding relieved. “But I should probably put some ice on it to prevent any swelling.” Matt turned to go to the kitchen.

  “Ain’t no ice in there,” Onika muttered knowingly.

  In the kitchen, Matt opened the freezer and found three plastic trays filled with ice.

  “Oh, all right,” Onika exclaimed, surprised. “Well, whatchu gonna put it in?”

  Matt looked around the empty kitchen, removed his cap and scratched his head.

  “Don’t worry, Mr. Wheeler. I got something for you to wrap it in.” Onika’s tone was suddenly soft. Forgiving. And seductive.

  Before Matt could respond, Onika pulled down her jeans. Stripped down to a T-shirt and a pair of black panties, she stood with her back pressed against one of the bare kitchen walls. Curling the soft black fabric past her hips, she stepped out of the panties and offered them to Matt. “Here you go,” she said wearing a sly grin.

  Matt took the panties. He sniffed the crotch and deeply inhaled her feminine scent. Like one of Pavlov’s dogs, Matt licked his lips and began to salivate at the sight of Onika’s pubis. No longer interested in giving himself first aid, he shoved the ice tray back inside and slammed the freezer door. “Can I taste it, baby? Just one taste?” he pleaded.

  A lustful look flashed across Onika’s face. “I’m not even gonna front, Mr. Wheeler. Like I told you, I got a lot of freak in me.” With her penetrating eyes fastened to his, she ran her middle finger over her clit and then slipped it inside. After several thrusts, she held up the glistening finger. “See how my pussy acts when you make me mad?”

  “Oh yeah, baby. I see.” He looked at her finger longingly. “Can I taste it?”

  Onika extended her finger, offering it to Matt. Then she suddenly snatched it back, taunting him, forcing him to stretch his neck and lengthen his tongue to lick the sticky moisture.

  Dipping her long finger in and out of her overly moist pussy, Onika finger-fed Matt her juices. Anxiously, his hand brushed against his crotch, unzipped his pants, and snaked inside his fly. Closing his palm around his erection, Matt stroked his dick as he sucked Onika’s creamy finger.

  “Eric called,” Regina told Matt after he got in bed beside her.

  “Damn!” Matt groaned. “I promised to drop off the money he needs for his senior class dues.”

  “Yes, that’s what he said. He seemed pretty upset. I told him you’ve been so busy lately, it probably slipped your mind.”

  “Busy is putting it mildly. Trying to get a good day’s work out of my crew is like pulling teeth. Not only do I have to pick them up and drop them off; I have to babysit those lazy grown men….” Matt shook his head in irritation. “I have to go behind them and make sure the job is done right. Running a business is hard work. Eric’s going to have to understand, I don’t have a lot of free time or money to throw around.”

  “Well, Matt you did promise to give him the money,” Regina said logically.

  “True. Would you call him for me tomorrow and tell him I’ll write a check and send it to his school?”

  “Sure. Speaking of calling Eric, I asked him how he liked his new phone.” With her brow crinkled in confusion, Regina met her husband’s eyes. “Eric said you hadn’t given him a new phone. He didn’t know what I was talking about.”r />
  Matt returned his wife’s confused gaze. Unaccustomed to lying on a regular basis, and unable to concoct a quick excuse, Matt was briefly stumped. His mind raced, trying to come up with a plausible explanation. “Oh!” he finally said with a relieved chuckle. “I forgot to mention it; I returned the phone. Got my money back. You gave me something to think about when you said I spoil that boy. Eric’s never going to learn the meaning of responsibility if I keep giving him everything he asks for. He’s got to be better prepared for the future. I don’t want him to turn out like any of those worthless morons who work for me.”

  Regina looked at Matt, surprised. For the past ten years she’d been telling Matt that he spoiled his nephew rotten. Now, though he hadn’t actually admitted that it was wrong to cave in and give his nephew everything he wanted, he’d taken her words into consideration and had quietly returned the cell phone. It felt like a victory. Regina felt a ripple of hope.

  “I’m tired,” Matt said stiffly. He turned and switched off the lamp on his side of the bed. After plumping his pillow and snuggling into a comfortable position, he reminded Regina, “Don’t forget to call Eric tomorrow.”

  A few minutes later, as Matt snored next to her, Regina reached over and turned off the light from the matching lamp on her side of the bed. In deep thought, she gazed into the darkened bedroom. She’d give her marriage one last chance. In a day or so, she’d gather her courage and give Matt an ultimatum. She wouldn’t beat around the bush or sugarcoat her words. She’d speak bluntly, tell him straight out that she was at her sexual peak and that after taking matters into her own hands, she’d finally experienced the toe-curling, body-thrashing, heart-pounding orgasm that she’d heard so much about. Now that she knew that she was fully capable of reaching a climax, she’d let him know that she was no longer willing to spend the rest of her life locked in a passionless marriage, aching for sexual release.

  If he refused to get help for his dysfunction, she’d have no choice but to end their twenty-year marriage.

  CHAPTER 12

  Theo was drinking on the job again. Cochise had smelled it on his breath, but he’d pretended not to notice. Cochise wrapped his large hands around the handle of the automatic floor scrubber and pushed the two-hundred-and-fifty-pound machine over the tiled fifth-floor corridor with ease. He reminded himself that Theo’s drinking was none of his business. If the boss didn’t care, why should he give a fuck? It wasn’t like he was paid extra money to supervise while Mr. Wheeler was laying up in a hotel somewhere or, if the gossip was true, chillin’ in the apartment he had hooked up for Onika. Shit, the way things had been going down lately, Cochise would be lucky to get paid the regular wages Mr. Wheeler owed him.

  “Damn, I forgot to bring the payment vouchers,” Mr. Wheeler had told the three-man work crew when he’d dropped them off at the site in Germantown. “I’ll take care of you fellas tomorrow,” he assured them. It was the second time that week he’d claimed to have forgotten the vouchers. The same thing had happened the week before. The workers didn’t get their cash stipend if they didn’t turn the pay vouchers in to the house manager at the Recovery House.

  “Oh yeah,” Mr. Wheeler said, pressing his fingers against his forehead in thought. “Something’s come up.” He solemnly shook his head, his expression grave. “I’ve got a little problem, have to make a quick run. I’m gonna need you guys to handle things while I’m gone. I should be back in a couple of hours.”

  Mr. Wheeler knew damn well that the only problem his married ass had was finding time to spend with his new jump-off. Onika no longer bothered to show up for work, but Cochise would bet a month’s salary that Mr. Wheeler was making sure she got her pay vouchers.

  Cochise shook his head. Mr. Wheeler should be ashamed of himself—knocking boots with a troubled young girl he was supposed to be helping.

  “Cochise! Yo, man, you better come downstairs.”

  Cochise bristled at the sound of Theo’s slurred voice. A jolt of annoyance ran through him as he caught a whiff of the smell of cheap liquor that permeated the corridor.

  With restrained anger, Cochise looked over his shoulder. Theo could hardly stand up straight. No way could he walk a straight line or pass a Breathalyzer test if he had to. Cochise turned around and faced Theo. “Man, you’re drunk as shit. Why you fuckin’ yourself up like this? You tryin’ to get fired?”

  “I ain’t gon’ lie, man. I had a little taste, but I can hold my liquor; I’m not intoxicated,” Theo told Cochise, speaking slowly, as he tried to control his slurred speech.

  “What’s going on downstairs?” Cochise asked, unable to hide his irritation at being called away from his work to give assistance to someone who had created a mess due to his drunkenness. He blew out an exasperated breath. Mr. Wheeler didn’t pay him enough to clean up behind drunk-ass Theo. Mr. Wheeler was going to have to get his shit together and handle the business he was contracted to handle or Cochise was going to be looking for another job real soon.

  “It ain’t me, man. It’s old man Faison. He’s breathing real hard, acting like he’s about to have a heart attack or something.”

  “Oh, damn!” Cochise let go of the handles of the automatic scrubber and ran toward the stairwell. Staggering, Theo trailed behind him. His boots pounded against the concrete stairs as Cochise took them two at a time. He made it to the ground floor in less than two minutes. When he passed through the door that opened into the lobby, a cold chill ran down his spine. He was greeted by the foreboding sight of boots with the toes pointed upward. Mr. Faison lay prone in the center of the carpeted floor of the lobby.

  “He dead?” Theo asked in a whisper.

  Kneeling beside Mr. Faison, Cochise searched for a pulse. “He’s alive but he’s gonna need an ambulance.”

  “Mr. Faison! Get up, man. Mr. Faison!” Theo shouted.

  “Man, stop all that screaming and call fuckin’ 911.” Cochise lifted Mr. Faison’s head from the floor. He’d heard about people choking on their own saliva and hoped to keep his co-worker from asphyxiating while they waited for help.

  “I ain’t got no cell phone, Cochise.”

  “Stop playin’, Theo. Use one of the office phones.”

  “Don’t you know CPR or something? I don’t think Mr. Wheeler would want—”

  “Fuck that pussy,” Cochise bellowed. Deciding to make the call himself, he rested Mr. Faison’s head on the floor.

  When his head touched the cool tiled floor, Mr. Faison’s eyes popped open. With a questioning expression, he looked from Cochise to Theo. “What happened?”

  “You passed out,” Theo informed him.

  Cochise nodded in agreement.

  “Yeah, we thought you was dead, man,” Theo continued. “I was just getting ready to call 911.”

  “I’m all right,” Mr. Faison said, though he was breathing hard and struggling to sit upright.

  “Naw, you ain’t all right. Nobody passes out for nothing. You need to get checked out at the hospital,” Cochise said firmly.

  “It’s my blood sugar, man. I got diabetes. I’ll be all right after I get my prescription refilled.”

  Cochise gave the older man a long, incredulous look. “Then get your shit refilled. Whatchu tryin’ to do—kill yourself?”

  “No, man. It ain’t that,” Mr. Faison said, reaching out for Cochise to give him a hand. “The medical coverage we got only pays for about two weeks’ worth of pills. I gotta come outta pocket to get the pills for the rest of the month.”

  Quietly seething, Cochise pulled Mr. Faison to his feet. It was time to confront Mr. Wheeler. That slimy bastard was holding back pay from a man who needed money to pay for his medicine. It wasn’t right.

  “Get off your feet, man. Fall back. Me and Theo can finish up the lobby for you.”

  “Say what?” Theo asked, face contorted in disagreement.

  Cochise glared at Theo and then pointed to the sofa in the reception area. “Rest yourself over there, Mr. Faison. Like I said, me and Theo go
tchu.”

  A wobbly Mr. Faison flopped down on the sofa and collapsed against the cushion.

  “Man, why you volunteer my services? I ain’t getting paid to do no extra work,” Theo grumbled as he put a fresh plastic liner in the wastebasket.

  “Don’t worry. We gon’ get our money and a little something extra for our trouble. Mr. Wheeler might be taking me for a chump, but trust me, he don’t wanna see my bad side,” Cochise said, his voice going down an octave.

  An hour after the shift ended, there was no sign of Mr. Wheeler. Feeling played by his boss, Cochise quietly seethed while Theo drank openly from a flask.

  “I just want to get back to the House so I can lie down,” Mr. Faison commented in a weak raspy voice as he struggled to lift himself from a reclined position on the sofa.

  Theo threw his head back and took a long, defiant swig from the flask, quickly downing the liquor. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and nudged his head toward Mr. Faison. “That man is sick as a dog and the boss got us waiting. It was bad enough that the nigga forgot our pay vouchers, but now he got us stuck all the way the fuck up here in Philly.”

  “Don’t worry about getting back to Chester. I got enough money for the bus ride.”

  “Bus ride! Man, it’s probably gonna take about three or four buses to get from here to Chester,” Theo complained.

  Cochise nodded. “You right.” He slid Theo a twenty. “That should be enough to get you and Mr. Faison back to the House. I’ll get at y’all later on tonight. I’m gonna hang around here for a minute. You know…look after the equipment ’til the boss gets back. And then I’m gonna give him a few choice words.” Cochise’s lips curled into a sneer. “There won’t be nothing nice coming outta my mouth.” His tone was low and menacing.