Hello, my is Zuri Michelle Craddock. I’m about to reveal the most intricate details of my life as I sift through the pages of my diary. Well, not every single page, just the parts that will give you an idea of how a poor girl from the foothills of North Carolina ended up with one of the wealthiest men in the world. Yes, I said world.

It was Friday, April 5, 1996. I woke up. I expressed gratitude to The Lord for opening my eyes. I had a busy day planned. First up, was a walk in the park. It was where I did my workouts. Lord knows a gym membership was out of the question. It cost too much and I made very little.

As I left my little apartment, I had thoughts of all I had to do once my workout was complete. You see, on Thursday, John, the manager of the Country Club asked if I’d help out with a private party on Friday night for a bunch of men with insane amounts of money. Who probably all had wives and children close to my age or older. 

That was the modus operandi of the men who frequented the Country Club. Many were White men, some Asian, Arabic, and very few Black men.

I agreed of course. I needed the money. Ever since I left my parents’ house to pursue a career in acting and modeling, things were hard. There was work in North Carolina but not enough to do it full time and I didn’t dare go off to Los Angeles or New York City like some folks. It seemed they were returning to North Carolina worse than when they left with a lot of debt and some sort of addictive habit.

I was always told that I was a pretty woman. My mother was part Cherokee. This was something she didn’t discuss for years until one day I asked her, “Why do people always ask you what your race is? Can’t they see that you’re white?”

She chuckled, “It’s because they can see that your mama has slightly darker skin and my hair is bone straight and jet black.”

Now, of course, not all people with Cherokee blood looked the same, but there was something about my mother that always begged that question from folks. She didn’t speak of her Native blood out of shame. She just didn’t walk around blasting it. She knew that people would treat her differently if they were aware.

It was hard enough for her to raise a brown child. People never assumed I was her biological daughter. They thought she adopted me or that I was her live-in boyfriend’s child. I still laugh about that one.

My father was biracial. He was more on the brown side. I got my cocoa brown skin tone from him. I give these details not to insist that my being mixed made me more beautiful than other women who were mono-racially black but to highlight that I had features that people praised and often fetishized.

Most of the time when I was called to do a reading for a part, it was for the pretty girl. And believe me, I didn’t complain because I was looking to make it big. However, it became a test to see which pretty girl was willing to go “all out” for the part. And “all out,” had nothing to do with acting abilities and everything to do with spreading those bootie cheeks wide and letting some unknown filmmaker slide in. Thus, my dreams of becoming a big movie star seemed impossible. I wanted it, but not like that.

I was still fresh. A good girl. My parents were religious and I had a decent upbringing. Yet, that Friday night, I got my first taste of something so exquisite, that I couldn’t stop thinking about it.

There I was this twenty-three-year-old young woman with my Rockingham County twang in a room full of big-time businessmen. They had the laugh of men without a care in the world. Or the laugh of men who didn’t have to worry about money. They drank so much alcohol and dropped tips in the amounts of ten and twenty-dollar bills. That was a lot back then.

I had only been working for an hour and already earned enough to pay my rent for May. I felt good. Anything after that $300 was good enough to cover utilities and put gas in my little beat-up pickup truck with a rusted bed. 

After another hour, they started smoking cigars. I became weary in the smoke-filled room so I headed outside for fresh air. As I stood outside staring at the beautiful lawn that resembled a green carpet, I heard a sexy baritone in an unfamiliar accent. “Great minds think alike.”

I looked left and saw him standing next to me. I became nervous staring into his soft gray eyes. He smiled. “I won’t tell if you don’t,” he joked about me taking a break while I should have been working.

I smiled. “Thank you, sir. I was just trying to get a little fresh air.”

“It’s all right. I was doing the same.” He rubbed his chin as he looked me over.

I didn’t look like much in the plain black slacks and white polo shirt. My long black hair was gathered into a high ponytail and cascaded down my back. “I should get back to see if any of your friends need anything.”

“I’d like it very much if you stayed out here speaking with me.”

I tilted my head. He stepped closer to me. “I asked John to have you work for this party. Not because I wanted you to work it, although, you have been very diligent in your duties.” He touched my hair.

I cleared my throat. “Um, I don’t know what to say.”

He reached for my hand. I stared at him. “Sir, I’m sure you’re a nice man and everything but, I’m not the kind of woman to just go off with some man. You could be a serial killer.”

He chuckled, “You’re right. I tell my daughters the same things. Your parents have taught you well.”

I nodded. “They sure have.”

“What can I do to help put your mind at ease? I only want to get to know you.”

I folded my arms. “I have to know you before I can trust you.”

“What would you like to know?” he asked as he stood there looking enticing. I had never considered being with an older man until that moment. He had all kinds of style. His brown hair was combed back away from his face. His mustache was still brown but the scruff on his face had given way to mostly gray.

“What is your name?” I asked.

“It’s Nigel Craddock.”

“Nigel Craddock,” I replied. “The Nigel Craddock. The one that has been buying up properties all around The Triad?”

He chuckled, “Yes.”

I had seen his name in the papers. They never showed pictures of him. I always assumed he was some crusty old fellow with a pot belly and terrible eyebrows. He was neither of those things. “Why would a man like you be interested in a poor girl like me? It doesn’t make sense?”

“You are beautiful. You caught my eye months ago when I first joined the club. I have wanted to speak with you for some time.”

I shook my head in disbelief. “Aren’t you married with kids my age or something?”

“I’m getting divorced.”

I gave him one hell of a look and replied, “Getting divorced means…still married. And I ain’t being no man’s, other woman.”

He touched my chin, “You wouldn’t be my other woman. Let’s go sit in my car and talk. If after ten minutes you decide you want to leave and never speak to me again, I’ll leave you alone.”

I looked at my watch. “Ten minutes,” I agreed. “Where’s your car?”

He walked me over to his 1996 BMW in black. He opened my door and I got in. I leaned over to unlock his door. He got in and sat, It was quiet for a moment. Then he said my name, “Zuri.” It sounded so sexy coming from his mouth.

I turned to him blushing like a schoolgirl. “Where are you from?”

“Originally, Wales. I lived there until I was twenty-five. Then I came to the States to expand my business ventures. Real Estate both commercial and residential. Investments in technology. Funding in non-profits as well as for-profit endeavors.”

“Is any of that code for money laundering, bribing politicians, and or tax evasion to include any other illicit activities?”

He let out a loud laugh, “Of course not, Zuri. I make all of my money legally. I pay the taxes I’m supposed to pay and I don’t bribe politicians or engage in any other illegal or illicit activities.”

“Very well then.”

He chuckled, “I like you.”

I smiled. “You might be all right,” I joked. I looked to my left into those eyes that were slowly melting the ice from around my heart. “What do you want from me, Mr. Craddock?”

“I only want to get to know you. Tell me about yourself.”

I chuckled. “There’s not much to tell. I’m from Walnut Cove. A little town where everyone practically knows everyone. We say things like, ‘y’all and bless your heart,’ and I drink a lot of sweet tea. The sweeter the better.”

I studied his face to see if he was getting bored but his eyes were just as bright and he hung on my every word. “I grew up in a house with both parents. My father was and still is one of the best mechanics in town. My mother helps him keep his books at the shop. Me, I graduated high school, then went to community college here in Winston Salem for a little while before trying my hand at acting.”

“How has that been?”

“I’m working here at the country club, that’s about as good as it’s going.”

He nodded.

“I’m sure you’re not interested in my tales of misfortune in the dreaded film industry. You gotta have a look and if you have the look, there’s about fifty other girls with the same look. And if you’re lucky enough to get the chance., you have to hope it doesn’t come with strings attached.”

“I see.”

We talked for so long. I looked at my watch. “It’s been more than ten minutes.”

He smiled, “It has. What would you like to do?”

We both laughed. I cleared my throat. “I feel like you might want something from me.”

“Something?”

“You know, S-E-X.”

He laughed. “I mean…I would not force you to do anything. I want you to agree.”

“And what would this be if I agreed?”

“I would take care of you.”

“How?”

“In every way that a man should take care of a woman.”

“I don’t know, Sir, Nigel Craddock. Why would you want to care for me when you have a wife?”

“We’re getting divorced.”

“That’s what you said. But why?”

“She cheated on me with someone else.”

“So is this,” I pointed at him and then myself, “supposed to be your revenge?”

“No. My wife was good to me. She took care of our kids and I never had to worry about anything while I was away making money but it takes more than providing financially. I didn’t get that until it was too late.”

“You are aware that women need time and affection as well as financial support.”

He smiled, “Yes. Well aware of it.”

“Well, then Sir Nigel Craddock, I’d like to spend the night with you.”

He smiled, started the engine and we left.

*****

It was only a fifteen-minute drive to his apartment. When he pulled into the parking spot, my heart raced. I was scared. Not of him but of my abilities. I had not been with a man. I had not even kissed one. I was sure Sir Nigel had been with sophisticated women with experience.

He looked at me, “We’re here.”

“We are here.”

He left the car and walked around to open my door. He reached for my hand, “This way,” he said as he led me to his apartment. We took the stairs to the third floor and his apartment was right in front. I watched as he opened the door. He stood by the threshold waiting for me to enter.

I stepped inside and saw the all-white interior. It was so crisp, clean, somewhat plain actually. He closed the door, placed his keys on a table, and walked over to where I stood just as the living room met the tiny kitchen area. “It’s not much. My wife kept the house. My daughter Donna is still in Middle School.”

“It’s fine. It’s way better than what I live in. Could use a little more pizzazz though.”

He chuckled, “Maybe you can help me with that.”

I nodded.

He took the clasp out of my hair. His fingers glided through my soft strands of deep waves and curls. He gathered a section of my hair and brought it to his nose. “It smells sweet. Like fruit.”

I smiled. “It’s the raspberry shampoo and conditioner.”

His finger touched my chin. He moved closer. Just before his lips touched mine, I confessed, “I’m still a virgin."

He smiled. “I’ll be gentle. Just tell me when to stop.”

“I’m going to undress you,” he informed me. My heart nearly beat out of my chest. He unbuttoned the two buttons on the polo shirt. He lifted the bottom and pulled it off. I wore a red lace bra. My breasts sat up nice and high. That was another thing my mother passed down to me.

Instantly his eyes glowed and I watched the corners of his mouth curl upward. I smiled in response. He undid my pants. They fell to the floor. He saw the red panties that matched the bra. “Red is my favorite color,” he stated.

“Mine too.”

His lips pressed to mine softly for a second. Then I felt his tongue slip past my teeth. His hands were in my hair. My body felt warm like I was on fire. He paused and looked into my brown eyes. He reached around and unfastened my bra. Then he peeled it off my shoulders. I covered my breasts. He moved my hands. “No, don’t hide yourself from me. I want to see all of you.”

My big round breasts sat there with his hands caressing, squeezing. He pinched my nipple until I grunted. I watched his tongue dance around my areolas. I watched as he French kissed my nipples. I was standing there with my panties soaking wet in the center.

I felt his fingertip on my pearl. That’s what he called my clit, “his pearl.” He made tiny circles repeatedly driving me insane as I stood there moaning like I was in some porno. “Uh, oh, Nigel, please, sir.”

“You want me to stop?” he asked.

“No.”

He continued until my knees buckled. He took his finger, and brought it to my mouth. “Open.”

My lips parted. His index finger rested on my tongue. I was sweet. I sucked every bit of juice off his finger and then he kissed me so passionately, I nearly climaxed again. My body shook.

He paused; he waited until I was calm. I watched him undress. If it weren’t for the grays in his beard, I wouldn’t have known Sir Nigel was forty-five. His chest was perfectly carved. His abs were defined and his quads looked like tree stumps.

I saw his member dangling. It looked as long as my forearm and it sort of curved to the right to where the tip touched his thigh. He reached for my hand and walked me over to the white leather sofa. I sat. He stood in front of me. I had heard about women putting their mouths on men’s dicks before but I was afraid, plus I didn’t think he would fit.

He smiled. “Tonight is all about you. There will be plenty of time for us to do all the things.”

I laid back on the sofa. At first, my eyes were on the ceiling. I felt my right leg being draped over the back of the sofa while my left foot touched the soft gray and black rug. I felt his thumb. There he was massaging his pearl. He did it until I cooed like a baby.

I felt his breath between my thighs and then his tongue lapped up my juices. I no longer stared at the ceiling. I looked down at him. I wanted to see him enjoy me. He paused for a moment and looked into my eyes as he hummed on my clit.

“Fuck!” I moaned from the pit of my belly.

 The left leg trembled. He wiped his mouth and stood. He reached for my hand. We walked to the right where there were two glass doors that separated his bedroom from the rest of the apartment. He opened the right side and guided me in.

I was about to get in the bed but he held me in place as he stood behind me kissing my neck and playing with his pearl with his right hand and cupping my left tit in his left hand. I felt his package poking at my ass.

He walked me over to the bed. He guided me to lean over. I held on to the footboard as he kneeled and tasted me from behind. After I climaxed, he stood and rubbed my ass. I looked back at him with wide eyes. I wanted him. I need him to make me a woman. To please me as I had never been pleased.

Slowly, I turned to him. He lifted me by the waist and placed me on the right side of the bed. My legs spread open wife. I felt the tip of his love sausage at my opening. I gulped.

He took my right hand and placed it where my opening met his tip. He teased up and down my opening getting me more excited. I closed my eyes when I felt him press. “Ahhhhh,” I gasped. The first stroke few strokes were the hardest.

He laid on top of me and kissed my mouth so sweetly as I gave myself to him. The pain was short-lived and suddenly, I was grabbing at his ass trying to swallow all eight inches into my hungry na-na. He was pleased with my enthusiasm. “Zuri likes having her tight young pussy fucked by an older man?”

“Yes, yes, yes, Nigel!”

He kissed my mouth. I felt his skin warm and steamy next to mine. I ran my fingers through his hair and smiled. “You’re really good at this.”

He grinned. “Thanks.”

“But, don’t cum inside of me.”

“Oh, my sweet Zuri, I am a long way from cumming. I’ll pull out before I do.”

He wore me out. The next morning, I could barely move. I lay in bed trying to figure out my life. I sat up sat up slowly. “Ummmm,” I moaned.

He looked over at me. “Where are you going?” he asked.

“I have to go to work.”

He hugged the giant white pillow. “Work. I want you to spend the day with me.”

“Sir Nigel,” I replied sweetly as I started for the door to retrieve my clothes. But he stopped me. He kissed my mouth and played with my pearl until I ended up in his arms. He bounced me up and down on his monstrous cock like I was riding a pogo stick.

That day, I ended up driving to the mountains with him. We hiked and later had dinner at his place.