DUE TO SOME REALLY EXCITING CHANGES IN MY LIFE,THERE WILL BE NO MORE BLOG POSTS FOR THE MONTH OF MARCH. IN THIS PERIOD OF READJUSTMENT IN MY LIFE, I'M NOT ABLE TO GIVE YOU MY BEST WORK. YOU DON'T DESERVE THAT. THEREFORE,THE NEXT BLOG WILL BE POSTED ON APRIL 24th. I'M REALLY SORRY FOR THE INCONVENIENCE, BUT THAT'S THE WAY LIFE GOES! THANK YOU FOR YOUR CONTINUED SUPPORT AND SEE YOU IN APRIL!!
Xoxo
EroticaNoire
Wednesday, March 6, 2013
Wednesday, February 20, 2013
A.J.
I vowed never again to tango with a
man not from the States, but here I go again. He was not all that fine but his
swag turned me on immensely. This man had mastered the hustler’s walk. I don’t
know if he had watched too many hip hop videos or if it was truly natural-
either way it was bad. Bad as in good, I mean. He made me want to give him the
goods just from walking. Now that’s power- and he knew it, too.
His name was A.J. and it was really
strange how we met each other.
My
best guy friend, Cori, was the owner of the newest nightclub in L.A. He had
been calling me for weeks telling me to come through. So when the J.O.B.
scheduled me an interview with Rihanna, I opted to do it in-person rather than
over the phone. Might as well work hard and play harder, right? As soon as I
get off the plane, my boy had my itinerary laid out.
“Sugarplum!!!!”
Only
Cori can scream at the top of his lungs in an airport and not feel the least
bit embarrassed. That’s just his personality. He is always dressed to the T’s.
Today he is rocking a purple Trukfit shirt with some pink straight leg jeans
topped off with pink and purple Dunk Nikes. Loud and proud. That’s my boy,
though.
“Sugarplum!” he repeated,
“I missed you so much!” I drop my Louis Vuitton bag to give my Cori a big hug
and kiss.
“I missed you too,
sugar dumpling! You look fly and super sexy”, I said as I gave him a once over.
“You’re not too
shabby yourself, boo.” I looked down at my cream and gold Michael Kors sundress
and had to agree with him. I did look fly, because I knew that I could not be
outdone by Mr. C, friend or not.
“Thanks. What are
we doing today?”
This fool pulled
out his iPhone. “Well,” he said as he scrolled, “your flight was a little late
so I had to move our facials back an hour. After that, we will go to Melrose to check out this
new clothing store. Then, around nine I am throwing a little cocktail party at
my house to celebrate the opening. Then after that, party time!” Cori raised
his hands and did an old school dance called “Raise the Roof”.
I laughed and
pointed at his moves. “Who still does that dance?”
“Only people who
can pull it off”, he said as he snapped his fingers and swung his head with a
smile. True Cori style.
So off we went on
our long day’s journey. We got our facials at the Ritz-Carlton spa. At the clothing
store on Melrose, I ended up buying about $2000.00 worth of threads. Hey, why
work so hard if you can’t enjoy it?
Anytime you are
with Cori, expect not to get any relaxation. This boy knows everyone and always
stops to talk about the minutest detail. One girl he asked about her dog. He
asked another young lady where she recycled. Leave it to Cori to make any
conversation lengthy. But I guess that’s why his club will be hot. Because when
he says he knows everybody, he really means it.
We get back to
Cori’s around 8 pm. I take a little nap before his cocktail party because this
child has worn me out. I wake up around nine thirty to a rapping at my door.
“What”, I yell out
in annoyance from under the pillow I just put over my head.
I heard the door
crack. “I am sorry, queen. I am terribly sorry for the disturbance”, he said.
He spoke with an accent. I couldn’t quite catch it at first. Jamaican, maybe?
I am so glad that
this pillow is over my head because when I first wake up, I look like the
creature from the Black Lagoon. Just plain ugly. So whoever that man is, he
will have a healthy tongue lashing once I get up.
“What is it,” I
yell, still annoyed slightly but that accent has me curious.
“My good friend
Cori told me that you may still be sleeping so he told me to awaken you. The
party started about 30 minutes ago.”
I curse quietly
under my breath. I never wake up on time. What good is an alarm if you never
hear it?
“Thank you, I will
be down as soon as I get ready. Close the door.”
I hear him chuckle
as he closes the door back shut. Maybe I shouldn’t have been so mean, but this
fool just woke me up AND opened my door. What if I was naked?
It didn’t take me
long to get ready. I put on a red Prada number and headed downstairs to meet
all 1,000 of Cori’s closest friends.
Before I reached
the bottom stair, all I heard was “SUGARPLUM!!” And with that, everyone who was
just laughing, talking, dancing, singing all turned their heads toward me. I
swear I felt like Cinderella when she first enters the ball. But not in a good
way. I felt like I had a huge booger in my nose and everyone was staring at it.
I picked up my composure and flashed a smile and yelled back, “SUGAR DUMPLING!”
And the party continued.
I smiled and spoke
to everyone as I made my way to the center of the room toward Cori. He
introduced me to everybody there and would always whisper their occupation in
my ear.
Cori points to one
guest. “Drug Dealer. Has the best weed on this side of the Hollywood Hills.” He
points to a tall, beautiful woman. “She will tell you that she is a
professional model. But I heard she is a high class escort from a couple of people
here.” That boy just tells all the business.
Just when I
thought I met everyone and knew their occupation, a man with the sickest walk
in the room comes up to us. He was walking towards us as if some theme music
was on inside his head that only he could hear. And strangely, I found myself
bobbing my head to his beat. Damn, he’s good.
Who is this man?
Wednesday, February 13, 2013
SAMSON 3
Am I dreaming still? Is
this real? Is this bitch really touching me in inappropriate places?!? At once,
I jump up from the table and slap Mayu as hard as I can across her face.
“What the fuck are you doing?!?!” I am enraged at this
point, more embarrassed than anything because I actually enjoyed it. And the
fact that I climaxed is too much for me to comprehend at this point.
Mayu is cowering in the corner holding her rouged cheek with
her right hand. Her left hand is up in a surrender stance. And I can see my
juices on her middle finger. This pisses me off even more.
“I’m sorry, Miss Stephens! It was part of the exclusive
package. I didn’t mean any harm. I thought you knew…” Her voice trails off as
if she just made a revelation but she doesn’t expound. “I am really sorry,” she
says as she hurries out of the room.
So now I’m standing in this massage room, stuck on stupid,
butt naked, with my love running down my inner thigh. I quickly put on my sundress,
gather my belongings, and hightail it out of that place. I’m thinking of
reporting that bitch to the manager but I’m so embarrassed that it’s not even
an option. Should I tell Samson? I quickly dismiss the idea because I don’t
want to admit to anybody that I enjoyed it.
As I unlock the hotel suite door, I can’t help but to recall
what just happened. I mean, I was violated of course. But something about it
felt so damn good. I’ve been with women before, but that was on my own will and
with my permission. This…this was different. So invasive, but yet so satisfying.
I heard that Japanese massage parlors usually end with a
“happy ending”, but I had no idea that women were on the receiving end of that
pleasure. What the hell just happened? Did Samson or Sampson pay for that
package? I wouldn’t be surprised if he did. Bastard. But he won’t hear about
the Mayu situation from me.
I hop back in the shower and wash myself thoroughly,
although I cannot help thinking about the Japanese goddess just downstairs in
the parlor. I wonder what her skin feels like, smells like, and tastes like. I imagine
how she sounds when she moans in pleasure. If I pull her hair, will she like
it? If I smack her ass, would she enjoy it and arch her back further? So many
questions, so much I’d like to do. But I love Samson. Regardless of his flaws,
this enigma of a man has my full attention at the moment and he would not be
pleased to hear about my big fantasies with my little geisha.
After my shower, I lay on the bed and attempt to finish up a
little work on my iPad. Being an entertainment writer for Bliss magazine
definitely has its perks. I have an interview with the sexy rapper Doja scheduled
in a few weeks. I spend the next few hours preparing questions and watching old
interviews of him to stay current and on top of my game.
The phone on the nightstand rings.
“Sash? My meeting is wrapping up. Meet me at valet in thirty
minutes for dinner. Wear something sexy and wear that underwear I like.” Click.
Well, damn. I can’t help but smile to myself at the frankness
of that man. I prepare to get ready for the fun filled night. I open my
suitcase and pull out my sexy black BCBG dress that I packed at the last
minute. I slip it on, but not before putting on my pink crotchless underwear
that Sampson loves so much. I spruce up my natural curls and add a light touch
of makeup and look at the clock to see that 25 minutes has already passed. I
throw on my YSL heels and grab my purse on the way out the door to see my man.
The limo is waiting in the front of the hotel. The valet
opens the door and I slip in with a huge smile on my face in anticipation of
the night to come. I look up and immediately sheer shock and horror runs
through my body.
“Sasha”, Sampson says, “Mayu will be joining us for dinner.
I hope you don’t mind.” ……
TO FINISH READING THE SAMSON CHAPTER , YOU WILL HAVE TO
PURCHASE THE NOVEL WHICH WILL AVAILABLE SUMMER 2013!
TUNE IN NEXT WEEK FOR THE NEXT OF SASHA’S CONQUESTS!
THANKS FOR READING!!!
Sunday, February 3, 2013
SEXY HAIKUS
I'll make you submit
Like a predator with prey
But my bite won't hurtIm getting anxious
Thinking about your warm touch
Please hurry home babe
Never say never
Did u think you'd be here now?
And now you're naked
Come inside my love
I can't wait to feel your thrust
As I meet each one
Steamy sweaty sex
I feel moisture 'tween my thighs
You just made me rain
SAMSON PART 2
Upon leaving the
plane, we spot a limo that bears Sampson’s company logo and head towards our
room at the Palace Hotel in Tokyo. Though I was a little tired from the flight,
this city leaves you no choice but to take in every detail. It’s almost
lunchtime in Tokyo so there is a lot of traffic and lots of people moving with
a sense of urgency. I can see why they say that Japan is trumping us with
technology because I am seeing graphics that seem like it would be in a
futuristic film. I see people on the street with phones, computers, and tablets
that are light years ahead of what we have in the States.
“Baby”, I say to
Sampson while I lay on his shoulder staring out into this brave new world. “I’m
so happy you brought me on this trip!”
“I’ll do anything
for you, baby girl”, Sampson replies while planting a soft kiss on my forehead.
“Because I know you’ll do anything for me, right?”
Without hesitation
I reply, “Yes, anything”. There are two sides to this man. There is the loving,
sweet, charming, charismatic creature that I like to call Sampson. Then there
is the guarded, controlling, abrasive, no nonsense side to his personality who
I refer to as Samson. I use both names interchangeably because he can change
into either person or both in the blink of an eye. I don’t understand how this
man is so complex. But he’s so damn fine. Did I mention rich? I knew that like
most things that are too good to be true, they usually are, but right now in
this moment, in his arms, everything else is irrelevant.
We enter the lobby
of the hotel and it’s like I walked into an architect’s wet dream. This hotel
is definitely Western-inspired but the touches of the native country do not go
unnoticed. As soon as I enter the lobby my eyes are immediately drawn upward.
Hanging from the high ceilings are sconces with actual candles in them. On the
tables, there are huge vases with water lilies that are taller than me. The
sitting area to the right has floor to ceiling windows that display the lovely
Japanese garden and small pond. In the middle of that pond is a small island
with a bonsai tree with the pinkest brightest foliage that I’ve ever seen. Yes,
judging from my scenery, it looks like Japan is going to be a great trip.
After checking in,
the bellman greets us with a smile and directs us towards our suite. It’s even
more beautiful than the lobby. The terrace provides a 180 degree view of the
famous Japanese Imperial Gardens and the Tokyo skyline. I step on the balcony
to take it all in while Sampson is paying the bellman. Inhale, exhale. Damn, I
thought New York City air was bad. I hear the bellman laugh and Sampson’s
obnoxious bellow behind me. I turn around to see what the joke was and it looks
like the joke is apparently me. Their four eyes are fixated on me while they
share a continue speaking effortlessly in Japanese. It suddenly makes me wonder
exactly how many times Samson has been at this hotel. And with how many women..
I brush off my insecurities and turn back around to continue enjoying the
sights.
As I hear the
hotel suite door close behind me, I head back into the room into the arms of
the man I adore.
“So what’s first
on the agenda, baby?” I say as I grab the collar of his shirt to bend him down
so that I can kiss his lips.
“Business,” he
says in between kisses, “then pleasure.” He lets my wrist off his collar then
heads to the desk of the suite and proceeds to grab his briefcase.
I pout and stick
my bottom lip out to show my discontent and let out a small cry to get his
attention as he heads towards the door.
“Oh baby girl,
don’t worry. You’ll have all my attention and plenty of time to moan and groan
when I get back. I set up a spa appointment for you downstairs in an hour. Take
a shower, get some rest, and I’ll be back this evening.” Sampson blows me a
kiss with a wink then puts on his suit jacket and closes the suite door behind
him.
I enter the lavish bathroom and cannot believe
my eyes. The floors and the countertops are made of black marble and the shower
was as big as my walk-in closet back in NYC. I turn on the showerhead then I
slowly slip out of my clothes. I cannot help but to notice how my bikram yoga
classes are really paying off. I can see the definition in my physique and
Sampson has definitely noticed it too. After a relaxing shower, I lay on the
lush bed to take a quick nap. I awaken to a gentle knock on the door. It’s the
concierge reminding me of my appointment at the spa.
“I’ll be down in
five minutes,” I yell towards the door as I quickly throw on a floor length
maxi dress and sandals. I skip putting on my panties since I’m about to be
naked anyway. Closing the suite door behind me, I head down to the spa.
At the spa, I
noticed how the women were dressed in traditional Japanese kimonos and looked
so beautiful. After checking in, I was handed a glass of champagne and escorted
to my room and told to undress and lay underneath the towel.
“Hello? Are you
ready?” I hear an American accent say through the curtain.
“Yes, please come
in.” I turn my head to meet her acquaintance and I am immediately spellbound.
Enters the most
beautiful woman I have ever seen. She is simply a stunning Japanese beauty. About
5’10”, her svelte body could easily be mistaken for a model’s. Her long jet
black hair sweeps the middle of her back in beautiful soft waves. Her delicate
mouth is shaped like a heart accentuated with her ruby red lipstick. Her eyes
feel like they are looking into my soul.
“Miss Stephens?”
I struggle to
catch my breath and my words. “You’re American?”
She giggles.
“Forgive me for not introducing myself. I am Mayu. Mister Sampson set up this
massage for you today, yes? And to answer your question, yes ma’am, I was
raised in America but I’ve been back here since 18. Are you ready for your
massage?” She gives me a warm smile and I immediately like her.
“Yes I am.” It
takes everything I have to take my eyes off of her but I am anxious to get this
stress rubbed out of my body. I turn back over and place my head on the cushion.
And then it happens. Her tiny yet firm hands gently caress my shoulders and it
feels like heaven. I let out a small moan and immediately try to repress it.
She pauses for a second then continues with her methodical movements. Damn it,
Sasha, get it together.
I begin to strike a conversation with the
beauty as to not make this experience so awkward. I learn that Mayu is from San Diego and came
back to Japan to begin schooling at the University of Tokyo and to connect with
her family. Though she misses America, she states that Tokyo is where she
belongs. She has one more year of school and working at the massage parlor
helps her pay for her tuition. Throughout the course of the massage her
movements are so sensual that I can feel myself getting aroused.
Mayu clears her throat and hesitates to speak.
“Miss Stephens, forgive me for being so forward, but your body is exquisite.”
I immediately
blush. “Why thank you, Mayu. I, uh, I don’t know what to say to that.”
“I didn’t mean to
make you uncomfortable. I feel you tensing up, please relax. It’s just that I’m
so used to seeing Japanese or white people in my massage chair. Your soft
chocolate skin is like a breath of fresh air.” Mayu continues to use her magic
hands on my body without missing a beat.
“Well, I can
understand that. Thank you, Mayu. And call me Sasha. By the way, this massage
feels so great. Do you mind if I nod off a little while? I know we have about
45 minutes left in the massage.”
“No ma’am. That’s
fine. But before you do, spread your legs a little so that I can get each leg
without disturbing your rest.” I comply and doze off and instantly begin to
dream of Sampson and the things I’m going to do to him this evening.
He’ll enter the
room while I’m pretending to still be napping. I’ll be naked on the bed with a
single sheet laying across my back while I purposely let my love below show. I
hear him moan as he drops his briefcase and walks swiftly to the bed. He’ll
call my name and I pretend that I don’t hear him. He knows exactly what I’m
doing. I feel his warm lips and tongue start at my calf muscle and advance to
the back of my knee cap. He knows that’s my spot. I try not to stir too much
because that would ruin the whole purpose of this little charade. He slowly
parts my legs and sees my wet shaved pussy inviting him to enter.
He slowly and
seductively parts the lips of my love and rubs his thumb on my throbbing clit.
Oh my God… Sampson then takes his index finger enters the first knuckle into me
making a “come here” type of motion. All my juices immediately douse his
finger, dripping onto his hand. I moan as he pushes his finger further into my
awaiting abyss.
“Miss Stephens,”
he whispers into my ear as he licks my lobes, “will you come for me? Please
baby, come for me.”
“Yes”, I moan.
“I’ll come for you.” And with my declaration, my sea opens up and I release my
orgasmic waves on Sampson’s warm and wanting appendage.
Except this wasn’t
a dream. I awaken to the feeling of a small slender hand gently caressing my
honey pot. And it feels so good that I can’t dare tell Mayu to stop…
TO BE CONTINUED…..
Sunday, January 27, 2013
SAMSON PART 1
What a day. Well,
what a night. I went to the mountaintops. I swam along the shore. I danced with
the original Aborigines. I sang with the South Africans. I climbed Mount Everest . I stood at the top of the Eiffel Tower .
I looked out of the Sears tower. I performed on stage with Stevie Wonder. I
walked across the Golden Gate
Bridge . I MADE (yes with
my own two hands, feet, eyes, ears, heart) LOVE. I did everything last night
without doing much at all. And this was all because he was my mountain. He was
my shore. He danced my dance. He sang my song. He was the Eiffel
Tower , Sears
Tower , and the Golden Gate Bridge .
He was LOVE.
OK, enough of the
imagery. His name was Samson. And he lived up to the name in every way
imaginable.
Strong,
valiant, wise, determined, intelligent, whore. He could never be just mine, he
told me so. But that didn’t mean that I didn’t try.
I
met him at an art exhibit that my college friend, Yvonne St. Laurent was
showcasing. Yvonne was what you call a free spirit. She had no qualms about who
she was or her overt sexuality, even as an undergrad. I remember her wearing a
t-shirt to our Human Sexuality class that said, “So What, Just Fuck”. Ten years
later, she was exactly the same.
After
majoring in Art and Design in college, she got a job as a buyer for the Royal
Academy of Arts, one of the biggest art galleries in London . We were extremely close in undergrad,
but when she left the States we grew apart. Yet, we always remained good
friends. She recently moved back to New
York to open up her own studio. And the night of the
grand opening of “YSL” was the night I met Samson.
I
remember that day like yesterday. At work, it seemed as if the day was going so
slow. I know that’s usually how it is on a Friday, but goodness. Time lived up
to its definition today. At five thirty, I added the finishing touches to my
article on “50 Hot Fall Items for under $50.00” and walked out into the
unusually warm New York City air for October.
Weather
like this brings back nostalgia for me. It brings me back to my childhood in my
small town outside of St. Louis ,
Missouri . Every autumn when the
green plentiful leaves would turn bright red, orange, yellow, and brown, the
town would have a Fall Festival downtown. The whole city would shut down that
Saturday and every local business would set up a booth in pumpkin carving, face
painting, bobbing for apples, three legged races, egg tosses, you name it. I
recall as a little girl having so much fun and coming home so exhausted, full,
and fulfilled. Those were the days.
Yvonne’s
showing was at 6:30, so I decided to go straight there from work. Dateless, I took
a Lincoln Town
car to catch her art exhibit being presented on the lower East
Side . In the ride I remember looking at what I had on. I was
rocking a pair of gold Jimmy Choo sandals, a pair of stonewashed Seven for all
Mankind skinny jeans, and an Arden B cream blouse under a fitted tan DKNY
blazer. My best friend, Cyndi, bought me my gold monogram Miroir Louis Vuitton
bag for Christmas and it was my first time wearing it. I looked pretty darn
good, but I used a couple minutes of my car ride to touch up my makeup.
Once
I pulled up to her spot, I was amazed. From the cars lined up outside, I could
tell the place was packed. Upon walking in I realized that Yvonne sure did know
some fine men. Tall, short, light, dark, Black, White, Latino, and Asian,
whatever, they all belonged in a magazine that I could masturbate to. But one
stood out from the crowd. Damn. I mean double damn. He was immortal and his
charisma had me drawn in like a moth to a flame. No Janet Jackson. I made a
mental note that he was my prey once I finished making my rounds.
Yvonne’s pieces
were entitled, “A Woman Scorned.” Each piece was named after an astrological zodiac
sign and a past lover that she had. Each piece was different-some oil
paintings, others statues-but all had one thing in common. Yvonne was smiling
as she was standing over her dead lovers’ bodies.
For instance, a
colorful oil painting named “Gemini: Donnie and Dannielle- the Threesomes
Revenge”. It contained bright oranges, yellows, reds, and sadly black. The
story goes that Yvonne was dating a boy and girl twin without the other one
knowing. When the twins found out, they confronted Yvonne and eventually both
left her alone. She was hurt by the abrupt end of not just one but two
relationships. So instead of taking it out on each of them, she made this
painting for her revenge. The painting shows an image of her standing naked
over a very naked, very bloody, very dead man and woman. In Yvonne’s hand was a
fork. She poked her victims to death, causing bloody geysers all over their
bodies. I don’t know how she made the images so lifelike. If I didn’t know
better, I would actually think that Yvonne was a mass murderer.
To the right of
the painting was a statue entitled, “Cancer: Craig’s Secret”. It was a stone
representation of one of the sexiest male bodies I have ever seen. His back was
turned towards me, so I slowly walked around it admiring the artwork. The
details of his muscles were so lifelike. I mean, his butt looked so good that I
had to reach out and touch it. Coming around to the front, I noticed that the
man’s expression was one of sheer terror. He was looking toward his crotch and
I couldn’t make out what the problem was. Then, I squinted and moved closer. On
his pubic hairs were tiny creatures that seemed to eating him alive. Crabs.
They were literally causing the man to bleed down the front of his firm thighs
into a pool of blood at his feet. Damn.
I was so caught up
in all the pieces that I almost forgot about Mr. Heavenly from across the room.
But, I saw him again. He. Was. Mesmerizing. Have you ever seen an image so
exquisite that even when you try to look away, you cannot? I continued to watch
him from a distance, as he carefully analyzed each of Yvonne’s pieces with
great detail. I walked up next to him while he was checking out a painting as
if it was only the painting that had my attention.
“Deep, huh?” I spoke meekly to the chocolate
lion.
“Excuse
me?” he said. He turned towards me and I suddenly was mesmerized. Six feet, 190
pounds, cocoa complexion, and the deepest eyes of any old soul. Have you ever
looked into someone’s eyes and it always looks as if they are crying for the
world’s miseries? Well, that’s what Samson’s eyes looked like to me. He had a
low Cesar hair cut, and had bone structure similar to...well, I hate to admit
this. Although I can’t stand Nick Cannon and his corny self, the man had the
facial bone structure of a Greek God. Yummy. He had a relaxed, yet professional
appeal. From his threads, I could tell the man had class. He was rocking Gucci
from his head to his feet. He had on a striped blue and white Gucci blazer,
with a crisp white shirt underneath. They were set off perfectly with his
relaxed fit jeans and his navy Gucci moccasins. He was not too flashy in his
jewelry, just a single solitaire diamond stud in his ear. His skin is so clear
and perfect. Looks like he moisturizes, too. I bet he bathes in fresh milk
squeezed right from the udder. He has to in order to have skin that smooth.
In
the midst of my daydream, I hear a throat clearing.
“Miss,
did you say something?”
So much for me
being smooth. Recover, Sasha, recover. I flashed a smile and tried to get back
on track. “I said her works have a lot of depth.”
“Yes,
why yes, they do”, he said. “One wonders what made her want to kill each of her
lovers. I mean, at least one of them could’ve been alright.” And then, he
bellowed. It was the loudest, most obnoxious laugh but it was contagious. With
a laugh so free and flowing, you had to join in as soon as you heard it. People
in the gallery began to look at us like we were crazy but we didn’t care. I
simply was just enjoying a great moment with a perfect stranger. When we
simmered down, he extended his hand.
“Samson.
George Sampson.”
I
knew his name would be some type of biblical reference just from his looks
alone. I was thinking that he would be a Noah or Moses. But Sampson took the
cake. I laughed out loud before I could catch myself.
“Something
funny, miss?”
“No, sweetie”, I coyly said as I gently caressed his hand. “I was just wondering, is your weakness women as well?”
“No, sweetie”, I coyly said as I gently caressed his hand. “I was just wondering, is your weakness women as well?”
“More
than you’d like to know”, he said with a wink.
Most
women would take this as a red flag that this man has no intentions of a
serious relationship, but for some reason he intrigued me. I thought, as most
women do, that I could be his Delilah of sorts. But I wouldn’t use his weakness
against him, I would make him stronger and together we could conquer the world.
Isn’t it a shame that a fine man will have you thinking about a future? And I
had only known him for five minutes. Damn. Yet, in the back of my mind I knew
that I would soon be in this man’s bed.
We
exchanged numbers and went out for dinner about a week later. I quickly learned
not only was Sampson fine, but he knew how to cater towards a woman’s every
need and want. It’s so easy to fall in love with him. He had the widest smile.
When he kissed me, every single time I closed my eyes and floated into the
clouds. There was so much passion in his kiss. He held my face with both hands.
He moaned every time he touched my lips. SAMSON.
He would call you
on Friday afternoon to tell you to cancel your weekend plans because he wanted
to go to Paris
just to shop. And I am not talking Paris ,
Tennessee either. I’m talking France , baby! Sampson
also had the best lovemaking techniques I had ever been introduced to. He would
call me in the middle of the day just to say that he has been thinking about
kissing every inch of my body. And when he finally saw me, believe me, he had
an All-you-can-eat Buffet ticket.
He would look deep
into my eyes with each thrust and ask in a growl/whisper “Baby, are you going
to come with me?” And my body would always rightly respond, “Hell, yes” as I
climbed his mountains and swam his shores. He could make me climax just from
him licking my cleavage line. If sex were a weapon, this man would be licensed
to kill. For real.
Through our encounters,
I learned that Samson was an international investment banker with his own
private firm. He had no children and had no intentions of ever having any. He
was 42 and didn’t plan on getting married until he was 50. So, in other words,
Samson did his thing with no commitments and no ties. And the moment you got
too attached, he simply moved on. It was simple for him, but for me it would
became a real problem.
So as all fairy
tales end, reality sets in and you have the chance to view things in plain black
and white, not rose. I slowly learned that these methods I once considered
sweet and endearing were merely control tactics. Though you were never the only
woman, he would make sure that he was the only man. That’s why he would call
abruptly and make you change your schedule so any other man in your life would
get tired of being put on the back burner. He looked into your eyes to make
sure that he was the dominant one, and me (like every other woman) was his
prey.
There
were perks to dating Samson. First class trips, lavish gifts, everything this
man did oozed expensive. But if my net worth was $500 million, I guess I would,
too. But there was a dark side to being
one of Sampson’s many women. Sometimes, he would disappear for weeks. No matter
how many times you called, texted, or emailed him, he would never respond until
he felt it truly necessary. And when he did talk to you, don’t you DARE ask him
about his whereabouts or he would disappear again. I learned that lesson the
hard way.
He had at least five
of us at a time, sometimes more if he was feeling lonely. It seemed as if we
all were on a schedule with us rotating weekends. Even though he never talked
about the other women, I couldn’t help but feel inadequate, often thinking that
I alone wasn’t good enough for him.
I know he had a
thing for Asian chicks. One summer, it was 10 am in the morning and I was doing
my normal Saturday routine, which includes some house work and just being plain
lazy. In the middle of eating my Banana Nut Cheerios, Sampson calls me.
“Baby, don’t you
want to come with me?”
I love it when he
plays this game. He only says this phrase on two different occasions. When he
wants me to take a trip and when are playing horizontal tag. Immediately, I
smile.
“Yes, any way you
want me too, Daddy”, I respond.
“Get packed, babe.
I’m scooping you at noon. It’s a surprise.” Click.
That’s all I needed
to hear. I swiftly packed 15 pieces that could me mixed and mingled into 7
outfits. I also made sure I packed a new sheer see-through baby doll dress I
just bought from La Perla.
By eleven forty
five, I was ready. I attempted to clean up my crib in the meantime, but I
really couldn’t concentrate because my mind was already focused on the weekend.
Sampson and I had already been to London , Paris , Las Vegas , Puerto Vallarta , and Madrid . I wonder where it would be this
time. As soon as I begin to fantasize,
my phone rings.
Only one word is
uttered when I answer my phone.
“Downstairs.” Click.
He was always so frank.
I bolt out the
door of my two bedroom apartment. He is waiting for me, looking so sexy in his
Black on Black Range Rover Sport. It’s been almost two weeks since I have seen
this man and I can’t hide my enthusiasm.
“Daddy!” I scream
once I close my car door. I reach out my arms to give him a hug. “I missed
you.”
We embrace and he
grabs me by my chin to plant a huge kiss on my lips.
“Glad you were on
time, for once.” He chuckles. He knows I have a habit of running late, but I
also know that he would always wait.
“I rush packed,
because I did not want to miss the opportunity of being with you.” I flash all
32 of my teeth, and give the cutest innocent look.
This made him
crack a smile as he released the brake and heads for the airport. “Yeah, yeah.
Check under your seat.”
It’s a clue to
where we are going to go, I know it! The last time we played this game there
was a gift box with a beret in it. That’s how I knew we were going to Paris . I rush to pull out
the parcel from under my seat. It is a small box wrapped with brown paper.
There is no writing on the box. I put my
ear to it, and I don’t hear ticking so I know it’s not a watch or a bomb. I
rattle the package and it seems to rumble a lot, so I know it’s not a ring.
Dang it.
Samson glances
over, amused by my guessing game.
“Would you just
open it already?”
“No, I want to
savor this moment as long as I can.”
“Ok,” he laughs.
I make a small
tear in the package’s wrapping and notice that the box is made of black velvet.
Once I get the box out, slowly of course, I open the lid. Inside is a tiny
porcelain doll. I gasp at his beauty, and the smile on Samson’s face shows that
he is just as pleased. The doll is a young geisha girl in an elegant kimono.
“Japan ! Japan ! We’re
going to Japan ”,
I began to chant in a singsong voice as I do the old school dance “The Cabbage
Patch”.
“Yes, baby. We are
going to Tokyo .
I have to get a few contracts signed first thing in the morning. And I didn’t
want to go alone. Plus, I know you like to have… fun.”
“You know I do
baby, fun for you.”
“Is it all for me,
Sasha?”
“Yes, Daddy, all
for you.”
We arrive at the
airport and take the back entrance to where his private jet was waiting. Walter,
his personal pilot was waiting at the entrance of the plane letting down the
stairs.
“Miss, how do you
do?” says Walter as he politely bows his head. I notice he calls me Miss even
though I’ve seen him quite a few times. I guess he can’t keep up with Sampson’s
women and Miss is the safe route.
“I’m beautiful,
Walter. And call me Sasha.”
“Ok, Sasha. And I
didn’t ask you how you looked I asked you how you were doing”, he says with a
wink.
Sampson interjects,”Hey
Walt, she’s mine. Get your own!” We all
enjoy a laugh and board the plane to get going on a long flight. It normally
takes about 14 hours on a commercial flight to get to Tokyo , but with Sampson’s superman jet it
only takes us eight. On the way there, I catch up on lots of work so that I can
conveniently call out on Monday. We enjoy the many snacks on the fully stocked
jet and also renew our membership to the mile high club. Twice. After a bumpy
landing, we land in Tokyo .
TO BE CONTINUED....
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