DUPED! (Letta Storm) Read online

  I've completed a preliminary investigation and have discovered some interesting things. I promise to make your trip worthwhile.

  Take Interstate Highway 5 north to State Route 126 east to Santa Paula, then take State Route 150 north to Ojai.

  You will find me at The Spa at Ojai. I am in suite seventeen. If you have any trouble call me at 213-555-1110.

  I look forward to meeting you.

  L

  I turned on the shower, slipped my night shirt over my head and stepped on the scale. "Eeek!" I gained another stinking pound.

  Hmm. Letta's at a weight reduction retreat. I could sure stand to lose a few pounds. Who am I kidding? Sal was being nice. I could stand to lose a slew of pounds. I wonder if they're any good.

  I punched in the number Letta had given me. "Hello."

  "Hi Letta, What no robot voice?"

  "Jamilla?"

  "The one and only."

  I heard a chuckle from her end. "The voice mod works on my other phone. There are a lot of angry ex-husbands floating around so a lady can't be too careful. What can I do for you?"

  Hearing her real voice seemed weird. It was midrange, but distinctive—perhaps with a slight warble.

  "I was thinking, I have a weight problem also and I wondered if I should think about checking myself in. Is the place you're in any good?"

  "I've been here for two of the three weeks I signed up for. Can you afford to be gone from your business for a period of time?"

  "Not unless I plan around it. If you've been there two weeks, how're you doin' so far?"

  "I'm pleased. So far, I lost twenty-one pounds, but you always lose more at first. I'll tell you what. When you come up Sunday, I'll introduce you to my instructor. After speaking with her, if you think you can lose some weight here, make arrangements to come back."

  "That's a great idea. I'll see you around ten or eleven Sunday morning."

  After my call to Letta, the day normalized, except for Sal coming in for a haircut. I was booked solid as I usually am on Fridays, but I squeezed my dear friend in.

  "Thanks for doing this for me. I wanted to get my hair cut for the party tomorrow night, but my normal barber was rushed to the emergency room with a kidney stone. You're a lifesaver Princess."

  "Don't worry about it."

  "You know how to cut it?"

  I smiled. "Oh, I think I've known you long enough to figure it out."

  "Still coming tomorrow, aren't you?"

  "Yeah, I said I would, didn't I?"

  "Good, there's someone I want you to meet."

  I paused and looked at Sal in the mirror. "Who?"

  He looked back in the mirror, smiled, but wouldn't say, "You'll see."

  * * * *

  I arrived at Sal's quaint, 1960's ranch style home, in Los Feliz, at six-thirty. There was a note on the door instructing guests to follow the brick path around the left side of the house to the back yard.

  When I got there, I surveyed the back yard. There were about twenty guests. Some I knew, most I didn't. Sal, standing at the barbeque under an open gazebo, grinned from ear to ear when he saw me. Handing the barbeque utensils to a bystander, he rushed over and embraced me in a firm, bear hug that squeezed the breath out of my lungs.

  Arm around me, he waltzed me around the yard introducing 'his good friend, the lovely and talented, Jamilla Randle.' No wonder I loved the guy. I corrected the Randle/Turner flap though. Then he took me, around the free form swimming pool, to a solitary man, sitting at a small table off in the corner. "I saved the best for last, sweetheart."

  I wouldn't have been surprised if my eyes bugged out of my sockets when his beautiful sea green eyes gazed up at me. He smiled and butterflies fluttered in my stomach. I'd never met this man, yet I was sure I knew him.

  He is Gorgeous!

  What the f… you haven't even got rid of one back stabbing s.o.b. and you're ogling another. A white one, no less. My pessimistic side informed me.

  Ah-huh. He's hot isn't he?

  I guess, for a white guy.

  "Jamilla, this is who I wanted you to meet."

  On second glance, I decided he wasn't conventionally handsome. But he really appealed to me. Every square inch of my skin tingled. I'd never felt like this, even when I first met Max.

  He rose. He was tall…at least six feet and well built. He had a thick mop of brown almost black hair and looked to be in his early thirties. His nose was oversized and a bit crooked, but not unattractive. His lips were full and smile winsome. The heavy eyebrows on his narrow face almost overshadowed his deep set, penetrating eyes, lending him a brooding look that exuded pure sex. I squeezed my quivering legs together.

  "This is my cousin, Antonio Castanza. Tony, this is my dear friend Jamilla. Oh!" Sal's eyes grew wild. "The steaks. I'm sorry. Tony could you keep this lovely lady company while I check on dinner."

  Tony enfolded my outstretched hand in both of his hands causing a tiny ember to ignite in my core and smolder. His lips formed a wall to wall smile. "It would be my honor to look after Jamilla."

  As Sal literally ran back to the barbeque grill, Tony led me to the other seat at his table. "Please, won't you have a seat? I see you're drinkless. Would you like something?"

  "I'd like that. What do they have?"

  "Beer, soda, wine, water, and spiked and unspiked lemonade."

  "I'll try the spiked lemonade." As he walked away, I couldn't help but admire his well formed, rear-end.

  While he was gone, I tried to clear my head. The man had a mesmerizing effect on me. I managed to calm to nearly normal until he returned and our fingers touched as I took the lemonade. Then it seemed as if little critters pattered up my spine and my heart sped up once again.

  I took a sip of lemonade. It was strong, but good.

  Sitting opposite me, Tony, leaned forward, and crossed his arms on the table. "So, I understand you and my cousin are neighbors."

  It took a second to realize he meant business neighbors. "Yes, Sal's Deli is two doors down from my shop."

  "Sal said you gave him a hair-cut yesterday."

  I reached in and pulled a peanut from the bowl of snack mix. "Yes, he didn't have an appointment. It was an emergency and I squeezed him in. I was kind of rushed so I'm afraid I didn't do a very good job."

  Tony seemed to get a kick out of that. "Well, Sal seems to have a divergent opinion. He claims it was the best haircut he's ever had and you should have been cutting his hair all along."

  I cocked my head. "Divergent opinion?"

  "I'm sorry. I usually go back over my writing and simplify the uncommon words, but in speech, you're stuck with the first word that comes out of your mouth."

  "Actually, it was refreshing. Most people would have said different, but different doesn't mean opposite. No, divergent was the correct word. What do you do?"

  Tony fidgeted in his seat, slightly and gave me one of those sideways looks. "I'm a writer…a screen writer."

  Hmm, even though I lived and worked in movieland, I'd never met a screen writer. I was impressed. "Really? How long have you been doing that?"

  He pursed his lips as his eyebrows rose. "My whole adult life. About nine years. I started while I was still in college."

  Hmm. That would make him thirty or thirty-one. Perfect.

  What are you talking about? Is there something wrong with your eyesight? He's white.

  You sound like mother. Butt out. I remember how great you thought Max was.

  How was I to—

  Stifle! And I mean it.

  Sipping my lemonade, I set the glass down. "So have you had any success?"

  He laughed. "That depends on your definition of success. I haven't won an Oscar yet, if that's what you mean."

  "But you've had success?"

  His head bobbed slowly up and down. "Yeah, I've sold a few screenplays."

  "Name one."

  "The last two I sold are in production. The last film that was released was Carpenter's Folly."

  S
urprise arched my eyebrows. "You wrote that? I loved that movie. What others?"

  "The Applesauce Caper."

  Suddenly, it seemed as if I forgot how hard he pushed my buttons. Instead, I became excited about how talented he was. "Another goody. What's your favorite?"

  He smiled, "That's easy, my first one, Mixed Couples."

  My jaw fell open on that one. "Oh, my God. You…have…got…to…be… kidding. That is my all-time favorite movie. I own the DVD, and must have watched it fifty times."

  Tony grinned. "Really. You just made my night. What did you like about it?"

  Waving my hands, as I do when I get excited, I exclaimed, "Everything, but I really loved the couple, Shana and Nickolas. Even though she was black and he was white, they fit together. It was like they were made for each other. They were incredible. You should be proud, that was a fantastic…" I gasped. "I just remembered, Mixed Couples was up for an Oscar and when it didn't win, the audience booed."

  "Yeah, I'm afraid they did. It wasn't very nice of them."

  I straightened in my seat. "Why? You should have won."

  "Maybe, but it didn't make me feel any better. And it made the lady who won feel like hell. It was insensitive."

  I realized he was right. "I guess it was rude."

  "But you were right. Shana and Nickolas were made for each other. I sensed it when I wrote it."

  "It was an adorable story."

  "Since you liked my story so much, I'm curious. Have you dated Caucasian men?"

  I shook my head. "No, no white man to whom I've been attracted ever asked me out and the ones that did, didn't appeal to me. Besides my mother would have a fit."

  He cocked his head to the side. "Your mother thinks it's a bad idea."

  It was a phrased as a statement, but it was really a question. I shrugged. It wouldn't matter to me, but old ideas die hard. Tell me, why was Mixed Couples your favorite?"

  His smile deserted. "It's kind of personal. When I get to know you better, like I hope to, I'll tell you then."

  Curious, I forced myself not to pry by changing the subject. "All right then, tell me what school you attended?"

  "Right here. I went to UCLA."

  Pleased, I grinned. "We have something in common. I went there."

  Sal interrupted by setting plates with a huge porterhouse steak, fries and ranch house beans in front of each of us. "Everyone else is half finished. Since you two seem to have shut the world out, I brought these over so they don't get cold. Bon Appetite."

  He was right. I hadn't even thought about the goings on after meeting the dashing and talented screenwriter.

  We spoke sparingly while eating, but Tony managed to ask, "What did you major in at UCLA?"

  I swallowed my mouthful of beans. "Business and English. And you?"

  "Film and writing."

  "That makes sense."

  By the time everyone had finished their dessert, it started to get dark so Sal turned on the party lanterns. When a DJ began to play music, I looked around and noticed that at least another twenty guests had arrived.

  While nobody moved during the first song, a brave couple broke the ice when Kelly Rowland's bouncy, When Love Takes Over played. Others followed and soon the improvised dance area overflowed with gyrating bodies. Tony glanced over and waggled his bushy eyebrows. "What do you think? Are you ready to shake your booty?"

  I laughed and rose. "I have plenty booty to shake."

  When Tony and I began to make our moves on the dance floor, the song had nearly ended. When it was over, the DJ played a slow romantic song. I thought we'd sit down, but Mr. Hot Stuff had other plans. Tony's left hand took my right hand, while his right arm snaked around my back, coming to rest in the sway of my back. After just a few steps he drew me in close. My breasts pressed against his chest, feeding the smoldering ember in my core. The feeling of familiarity grew stronger the longer he held me. Little by little, my breathing slowed as his hand slid slowly, but surely down from my back to the top of my derriere. An eerie feeling came over me that this was not the first time his hand had been there. In fact I had the peculiar feeling this man's hands had been over every inch of my body.

  His lips lowered to my ear, which gave me chills and prickled my flesh. "I hope you don't take this wrong, but you have a real nice body and it feels wonderful against me."

  I didn't take it wrong, but my body seemed to. Relaxing as we swayed gently to the soft romantic sounds, my eyelids lowered. Then something rigid pushed into my abdomen. The image of the long, pale, male organ pressing against my abdomen filled my mind as if I'd seen it, held it.

  My eyes zinged open, but not until, I foolishly and instinctively pushed back, causing the smoldering ember in my womb to burst into a flame. When he shoved again, my stomach felt like it leapt into my throat.

  The fact was, I found this sexy white guy extremely attractive, and since my bigamist husband hadn't been around much to take care of his quasi-husbandly duties, Tony was looking better and better. The developing situation could have easily spun out of control, so while my body was ready for the ultimate pleasure, my mind and my pessimistic side said no, no, no, you just met him.

  Did I? Then why this familiar feeling?

  Trying to get Tony's mind off of where it surely was, I asked him, "How about you? Have you dated any African American women?"

  "Yes, I dated a lovely girl, in college. You remind me of her."

  I swallowed. "Me?"

  "Very much so."

  I don't know if he would have continued, but the song stopped and so did he. Another song—a fast one—started, but I wanted to hear more, so I took his hand and led him back to our table. When we both were seated, I pressed him, "You were saying?"

  He didn't seem to want to talk about it. His sad eyes looked even sadder. "I went with a black girl during the last semester of my junior year."

  When he didn't continue I prodded, "And?"

  He reached across the table and grasped my hand. Unlike when I met him, it was cold. "I'll tell you when we go out."

  I did a double take. "Are you asking me out?"

  His sad eyes seemed to implore me. "Yes, dinner and dancing or anything you want tomorrow night. Are you game?"

  "Yes, but not tomorrow. I have to meet my lawyer."

  "When then?"

  "I'm not sure. I'll have to call you."

  Chapter Four – Letta Storm

  With Tony's throbbing manhood, positioned at the rim of my crème-filled channel, he kisses and fondles me. Gradually, he enters, gliding deep into my lubricated haven. When he's fully inside me, he moves languorously in and out, slowly picking up tempo until his shaft thrusts into me in a driving rhythm, soothing the carnal itch within.

  "Ooh!" I suck in a deep breath. "Deeper, baby, fuck me harder." The walls of my pussy, which all-night have been screaming for friction, finally purr like a happy pussycat. "Oh yeah, that's it, baby, that's it. Give it to me. Don't stop!"

  While his cock invades and ravishes my pussy, his long tongue , swirling to and fro, overruns my mouth. Moaning as he captures my tongue, my sharp nails fight back, digging into his unprotected back. "Ooh, you're still a fucking wildcat."

  As his powerful thrusts keep coming, relentlessly pounding my pussy, my legs wrap around him. With ankles locking on his ass, guiding him, blood simmers just below my skin. I'm so fucking wet my juices drip down my ass. My clit and cunt ache for release and he knows it. "You like this don't you?"

  "Ah-huh."

  "I knew you would, just like before." Tense fingers dig into my flesh as his hefty cock continues to pound me harder and faster. I groan as Tony's warm wet lips suck and nibble on a chocolate colored nipple. I squirm as his hand finds my other nipple, pinching and circling it's nub with a finger and thumb.

  The sweet torture, seems endless, but with every nerve jangling thrust of his hot cock, twittery, feathery sensations spread through me. Delightful tingly impulses follow, enveloping me in massive orgasmic adventure. "Th
at's it, baby. I'm coming. Oh, my God! It's a big one."

  As I begin to squirm and move erratically, Tony yells, "Ohhh, oh! Oh yeah! Sweet Jesus, I'm gonna to cum, too."

  Anchoring his hands on my hips, Tony rises up and drives into me hard, waggling sideways and trapping my clit against his pelvic area in a carnal embrace. My pussy grips his cock, milking him, holding him tight as I ride out wave upon wave of erotic sensations. As he spasms, spurting thick semen into me, I reply, "Fuck, baby. Shoot your hot cum into my pussy." While my hungry pussy sucks the fluid from his testicles, I take every inch of him and beg for more, violently crushing my saucy snatch into his pubic bone.

  As mind numbing spasms slowly dissipate, pleasure shudders follow. Never have I experienced such a concentration of pleasure. As Tony rolls off me I feel his cum ooze out of me, but I am too tired to…

  I jerked up with a start. A sexy dream with Tony! It seemed so real, I even came. What a climax! I didn't know whether to be concerned or revel in the visions of the dream. A glance at the digital alarm clock on the nightstand told me it was 6:30 a.m. My gown was soaking wet as was my pussy. I flung the covers aside, and padded to the bathroom.

  After taking a shower, I threw on a robe, made coffee, then I fixed and ate a bowl of Total. With coffee in hand, I checked my voice and emails in case Max or Letta Storm had tried to get ahold of me.

  Next, I packed a small bag, then donned a pair of jeans, a blouse and running shoes. By seven-thirty, I was in my Honda, on the road to Ojai.