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And if she was a squirter... tonight she’d cream. I had intentions to make Red feel in ways she’d dream about until the day she died. I wanted tonight to be cemented into her memory. She wouldn’t be able to touch or see her pussy without thinking of what I made it to.
I had a routine. There was nothing spunky or witty about me. nothing unique. I did what I was supposed to do. Smiled, paid tithes, prayed, obeyed the law... I was a good girl. In every sense of what it meant to be a good girl. But... being the good girl got boring.
Giselle opened the door and gestured for me to walk out. “Stop hiding yourself. You’re beautiful. Every single thing about you. That bush especially. It separates you from all of the other pussy’s out there. I don’t see bushes anymore. Just landing strips and Brazilian’s.” We walked out into the hallway, and she added. “You know what it gives? Vintage. Classic. You give classic, Jezebel. It’s sexy. Own it.”
I looked away from his pensive stare to calm my nerves, but he gripped my chin and turned my head back in his direction. Our eyes locked again, and I was rendered speechless. He had this thing about him. A way that made me want to shy away and draw in closer to him at the same time.
“You’re exquisite.”
She was nothing like what I imagined. She was better. Everything about her was. The way she felt.
I had quite a few suites on the eleventh floor, but I selected this one specifically for her because I wanted her to see herself completely free. I wanted her to see what true bliss was. I wanted her to see the exact moment in which she was there. She wouldn’t be able to capture every single moment—I didn’t want her to—but that first one was most important. She’d see it whenever she closed her pretty little brown eyes.
The situation wasn’t typical. Didn’t fit the standard dominant-princess narrative. And that was because I wasn’t typical, and I didn’t play the role of a ‘dominant’. I didn’t play the role of anything. I was the fuckin’ pussy whisperer.
Rhyme was a diamond. A red diamond.
She was the focus. Would be until the night ended. Until she was exhausted and drained of every bit of pussy juice she could muster up. I wanted her to leave Pandora’s completely exhausted. In a good way. I wanted her walking on legs that felt like wet noodles out this bitch.
I gripped her by the waist and slid her down the bed. “You’re not here to serve me—I’m here to serve you,” I mumbled, rubbing the head of my dick on her glistening clit before slowly sliding into her.
Intimacy. I didn’t come to Pandoras searching for intimacy. I came here looking for sex. But he gave me intimacy in a place I didn’t think intimacy existed. I hadn’t been touched like that in... never. I thought it was passion I needed. But what I got was what I truly needed... and from a man who didn’t even know me.
He didn’t just give me intimacy. He ‘gave me’ a nice amount of money too.
I was a fucking mess. I had never in all of my thirty-four years experienced a level of intimacy anywhere close to that. He handled me as if he loved me, and I responded as if I loved him too. That wasn’t just sex. That wasn’t just a one night stand. He kissed me. Deep. Held me after. We showered together and the man bathed me. That was passion. That was... intimacy.
I was a mother. Had two children. A little girl and boy. Five year old twins. Arionna and Aaron. Rhyme was a jezebel; Rhyme was a homemaker.
Looking away from her, I smiled at my husband, Andre, standing in the doorway with his arms crossed over his chest. He wore a smile almost as big as Ari’s. I wasn’t just a mother. I was a wife, too, and had been for ten years. Andre and I were teenage sweethearts. We grew up in the same church. Andre was the only man I’d ever been with. He was my other half. He truly completed me. Last night was magnificent but was it good enough to throw away a lifetime of love? Absolutely not. We had our issues, but those pro’s still outweighed the cons.
Dre and I had been together for so long that sometimes I wasn’t even sure if he truly desired me. Sometimes it felt like he didn’t even see me. I felt invisible until he needed me for something.
But realistically, I needed more time. After my first night at Pandora’s I realized that. It wasn’t just about Pandora’s neither. I needed more time for me in general. More time away... more time to just be. I was drowning. Suffocating here. Suffering. But because I knew I was ways away from longer ‘staycations’ I settled and looked forward to my biweekly trips to Pandoras. However, after last night I wasn’t sure about going back. I was afraid that if I did, and I saw him again I’d slip further away from reality and into that fantasy and I couldn’t do that.
“Stop thinking so much,” she whispered, nudging me in the side. “You’re glowing. Appreciate the glow.” She paused and looked over at me. “I sure do—I was waiting for it.” The invitation came from her. It had to.
It was a place people went to embrace their true selves, and to experience bliss like never before.
Pandora’s was a mystical, beautiful place where fantasies and desires came alive.
