CHAPTER 3 - LYRIC DEVANEY

At 11:00 am sharp, Richard’s black Mercedes- Benz arrived. His driver got out and opened the door and Richard stepped out. His right leg extended to the ground, as he simultaneously hoisted himself up, putting on his top hat with his left hand. Goddamn, he was so elegant. With trench coat draped over his forearm he proceeded to reach for a bouquet of long-stemmed red roses. Charming! I leaned out my huge storm window and, in my best Mae West accent, said, ’say sweetie … why don’t “cha come up and see me sometime.” He looked up and smiled broadly. He was in a good mood. Thank God.

“Richard,” I said as I opened the front door. Before he could respond, I pulled him in close by his silk tie and planted a fat, wet kiss on his thin, chapped lips. Then I stepped back, hands on hips, so he could admire my brand new dominatrix outfit. I stood tall, in six-inch black leather heels. I had the black, spiked, leather gloves, bra, G-string, and whip. Smack. I hit the whip to the floor and purred. Then I turned around so he could admire my firm, round ass in my G-string and headed upstairs to my bedroom. Richard tossed the roses on the floor and followed like a good little boy. The house was soundless.

Brunch, as Richard called it, was set-up once a week. We hardly ever ate “food” during “brunch.” It was a lovemaking session. A kinky lovemaking session. Truthfully, I wasn’t into sadistic sex. It pleased Richard. Consequently, a good woman knows how to please her man.

”strip!” I commanded once we were inside my bedroom.

“But, I—”

’shut up!” Smack. I touched him with my fierce whip. He hurriedly did as he was told. Once naked, I laughed to myself. I looked at his pathetic body. He was grossly out of shape. His shriveled up penis was hardly noticeable because his fat gut hung so low, it covered the shaft. A pair of hairy balls were on display. He kept on his black dress socks which clashed against his pale legs.

“Why do I love this man?” I thought.

’turn around motherfucker!” I ordered. Richard did as he was told.

“Are you going to hurt me?” he whined. Smack. My whip went across his lower backside and he moaned in pleasure. I grabbed the back of his hair roughly and told him to spread his legs. He did as he was told.

“Bend over bitch!“

Richard bent over and placed his hands firmly on my bedroom walls for stability. I reached in my nightstand and pulled out a strap-on dildo. This one was new. It was huge and painted black, just as Richard liked. The dildo was so fat, I couldn’t wrap my hand around it. “Richard will be pleased,” I thought. He and I had something in common. We both loved huge, black dick.

I lubricated his anus with my tongue. Richard did not like artificial lubricants. Then I inserted the dildo in him roughly. He shrieked in pain.

“You’ve been a very bad boy!” I scolded. Then continued, “I have to fucking punish you!” I was ramming his ass and pulling his hair ruthlessly. We were both sweating profusely.

“Ritchie’s … been … a … very … bad … boy!” he panted. Smack. I leaned far back, dildo still inserted in his ass, and let my whip crack across his back. Smack. I hit him again. ’shut the fuck up!” I yelled. (smack) His body then started to jerk involuntarily. He tried to stifle a scream but was unable to. He screamed in pleasure as he came all over my plush, peach carpet.

We both fell to the floor exhausted. Neither one of us speaking for several minutes.

As he lay there marveling over the morning’s event, I was proud to see the satisfied expression on his face.

“I“m a bad bitch!” I thought.

’so when are you planning to tell Estelle?” I jumped directly into our situation.

“I have a meeting with my attorney this afternoon. He’s helping me hide my assets. See, Estelle and I were married and had lived in California, a commonwealth state, for nineteen years before relocating to New York City. Everything I have made during my career is equally hers. And she knows this,” he explained.

“But you will do it, right … hide your assets so she can’t get her hands on our money.“

“I most certainly will darling. Don’t worry your pretty head. It’s the kids I“m worried about. Estelle is witty, but she is no match for me.”

That Estelle is not as dumb as I pegged her out to be. However, she was no match for me, either. She was just extra weight waiting to be thrown out like trash.

The real obstacle was his kids. White men had this loyalty for their offspring that I just did not understand. Those little white brats thought divorce was synonymous with Armageddon. Therefore, Richard felt that this was a touchy situation and kept delaying telling his wife the news that he wanted a divorce. He reassured me that the kids were the only reason and I believed him. I knew his wife alone was not holding anything up.

I certainly looked better than his wife. Although I have never seen her close up, I had seen her on television, and I am sure television doesn’t distort features to the point that you couldn’t tell she was ugly.

“Why did you marry her in the first place?” I questioned.

“I was young and wanted children.“

“By that ugly thing? You wanted children or Gremlins?”

“Don’t be snide with me!” Richard snapped.

“Don’t talk down to me!” I snapped back. I got up from the floor and began to take off my outfit. There would be no second session in here today.

“Estelle wears so much make-up it looks as if a box of Crayola markers exploded on top of her face,” I joked.

Richard did not seem to find it as funny as I had. I had laughed until I cramped up my stomach, but he did not even crack a smile. He had the stupidest expression on his face, combined with what had just transpired in here, I laughed even harder. Tiny tears streamed down my high cheekbones. I could care less if he did not laugh at my jokes about his wife. I knew the truth hurt.

“you“re trying to laugh your insecurities away,” he stated with a deadpan gawk. I shut up abruptly. “Negative!” I finally said trying to close the subject, which was now not so funny.

“you“re insecure when it comes to my marriage. That is why you poke fun at Estelle’s appearance.“

He began casually putting on the clothes he had only momentarily ripped off in a frenzy. I started to panic. This wasn’t going the way I had planned. I felt betrayed. How could he be mad at me for disrespecting his wife. The wife he was supposed to divorce. Whose side was he on? Was he blatantly choosing her over me? Changing the course I was taking, I said, “Are we still going out to dinner tonight?”

“I“ll have my secretary call you to confirm.” He finished dressing and walked out my front door into a sunny afternoon.

I plopped down on my bed and bit the bottom of my lip. I sulked for hours in that same position until I finally convinced myself that our conversation was strictly a mind game.

“I am not insecure at all!” I reassured myself. I am nothing short of gorgeous. I have very fine porcelain features and copper-colored skin. My mother said the sun kissed me when I was a baby in her womb and gave me a permanent glow. I have chestnut-brown eyes and have more sex appeal than Dorothy Dandridge. Everyone has always sung my praises every since I was a toddler. “You should be a model. You should be an actress. You should be a singer. You should just be able to be seen.“ Yeah, I knew what I was working with. Richard was a big mind-game player. He“ll come back. They always do.