Chapter 1: That Night (Angela)

Let me start off by telling you, my real name is Angela Martinez, yes, soy Afro-Latina and very proud. Both of my parents were born on the island of Puerto Rico, my dad being a deep mocha and my mom being a butter pecan tone. Now, I got my amazing facial features from my mom, full juicy lips, big brown eyes, and dimpled cheeks. Not to mention, she blessed me with a thick curvy frame.

I’ve always had a slim waste, but this backside has always been something, often catching the eyes of grown-ass men when I was merely a teen-ager, still in high school.

Now, this skin color, I was blessed with my father’s deep mocha skin tone, and extremely curly hair and some may even say his temperament, but the fact that my patience for foolishness was almost non-existent, could have been due to the fact that I am a Taurus, the verdict is still out.

Now, my job as a talent scout sends me all over, especially when my boss, an older White woman named Kathy Schneider does not feel like doing travel during or near the holidays, she’ll send me to meet with potential and existing talent.

This time, it was close to the Thanksgiving holidays and there was a singer/actress in New Orleans that she wanted me to go check out. We had seen a viral video of her and wanted to snatch her up before anyone had the chance, thus the reason for me having to be out of town working the weekend before the holidays.

After the meeting with the beautiful talented young lady, I ended up back at the hotel, which was located near the foot of Canal Street. Exhausted, I stepped out of the cab, handed him my card to pay and thanked him before I exited the vehicle.

I was wearing a nice pair of high waisted black slacks with a and white long-sleeved fitted shirt and a pair of red heels. I was never one to go with obvious matches, I liked wearing shoes that popped or added a hint of flavor to my outfits.

My cellphone rang, “Shit,” I uttered as I entered through the revolving door. It was my kind of boyfriend, Corey Myers. I say kind of because we were constantly getting in to it over my work.

He didn’t like the fact that I would drop everything and just go, when Kathy said, “Go.” But that wasn’t the case. I had a job, just like he had one and I never gave him shit about how much time and energy he put into his work, as he gave me.

Reluctantly, I answered, “Yes,” with major attitude. “Hey, I was just calling to see how things went.” That’s what he said, although, I knew he didn’t care. We had a big argument before I left for the trip and he had told me basically, it was my job or him, and since I wasn’t wearing his ring and our conversations revolving marriage often centered around me being this stay-at-home, trophy wife that basically waited on him and foot, I went my Black behind to New Orleans.

“Things went great.” I pressed the button to summon the elevator car. I really wasn’t in the mood to talk. I wanted to go take off my clothes, get changed and head out for some of all that good food I smelled while walking downtown, not to mention, a daiquiri or a hurricane had my name on it somewhere.

“I’m about to get on the elevator, so, I’ll just call you later after I get settled.” I heard him suck his teeth, but he replied, “Alright babe.”

I entered the elevator and pressed for the 14th floor and proceeded to lean against the wall, the doors re-opened and baby, my whole heart almost stopped. This dark chocolate vision of loveliness with a head full of neatly done locks entered the elevator.

My entire pussy got wet. Now, here me out. One day, I was at a café in Tampa, doing some work on my lap top, tying to be productive, when I saw a table of women laughing. Normally, I mind my business and don’t listen to other people’s conversations, but when I saw them eye this man with locks as he walked by their table and one of them said, “You haven’t fucked, until you’ve fucked a man with locks.”

My ears perked up and I sat and listened in detail. And ever since that moment, I had been intrigued by men with locks. Every time, I saw a good looking one, I always imagine the guy walking up to me, kissing me in the mouth, with his hand on my full breasts, pressing me up against the wall, and fucking the shit out of me.

So naturally, when I looked into his eyes, I sort of blushed at the thought that went through my mind. I gave him the complimentary head nod. He spoke, “How you doing, sis?”

“I’m well,” I replied and tried not to have any dirtier thoughts parade across my mind.

To say this man was fine, wouldn’t do him justice. Imagine six feet three inches, deep-set sexy ass brown eyes. He had a mustache with goatee, the beard with about three inches of hang time, these chiseled cheekbones. I looked at his hands and feet and at that point, I was dying on the inside. I started throbbing all over thinking about this man, bending me over and blowing my back clean out.

I cleared my throat, I noticed, he didn’t press a button for another floor. When the doors opened, he held out his hand, “After you.” Manners, I thought. He walked along side me for a while and then said, “You following me?”

I laughed, “No, my room is right here.” He smiled, “Looks like we’re neighbors, at least for a short time.”

“It seems we are.”

I saw his eyes scan me. Even though I was in those dress pants, my hips and ass did look plump, he gave a side smile. “So, you calling it a night or you up for hanging out a bit, I wanted to go take a walk by the river.”

He had read my mind, but I had also wanted much more than a walk. “Um, that sounds great, I can be ready about fifteen.”

“Sounds good. I’m Jason.” He reached out his hand to shake mine.

“I’m Catalina.” Now, when I was younger, I had two dreams, one to grow up and be an actress or become an international spy with the code name Catalina.

“That’s pretty, ma. I’ll see you in fifteen.”

 *********

I took off those work clothes so fast, I nearly ripped them. I put on some skinny jeans, dark denim and a fitted long-sleeved gold top. It was a nice temperature out, so I didn’t need a jacket, I just added an infinity scarf and put on my tiger print ankle boots.

My hair, I took out of the bun and let the curls fluff out past my shoulders. I was ready. I grabbed my purse, reached inside and turned my cellphone on silent. I had already made up my mind, I was testing out this guy with locks theory and letting whatever happened in New Orleans, stay in New Orleans.

I heard a knock on my door, I opened and he was looking good. Nice blue jeans, fitted black shirt, he had this white spacer in his left ear, and I could see the tattoos coming up out of his shirt near his neck. This just got me more excited.

“You ready?” he asked in that smooth baritone. I nodded, walked out, and made sure my door was closed.

He walked on the outside edge closet to the curb with this nice bowlegged swag, he’d nudge into me as if we had been dating for months. I smiled. “What do you wanna do ma?” he asked.

I replied, “I was thinking po-boys, daiquiris, and beignets.” I loved the food in New Orleans and I was gonna make sure I ate good. He nodded, “Sounds good, let’s go uptown to New Orleans Seafood and Hamburger and ride the streetcar back,” he suggested.

I was really feeling his vibe. He was so laid back. He flagged down a cab, opened the door and I got in before him and we were off.

“So how long you here?” he asked, I saw him checking out the thickness of my thighs. I smiled, “I was going to leave tomorrow, but I can leave Monday, if I need an extra day.”

He nodded. I looked over at him, “And you?”

“I’m here until Wednesday, I’m a tattoo artist, here for the convention.”

That explained the myriad of tattoos I saw under his shirt. I nodded, “That’s nice.”

“You have any ink?” he asked.

I almost laughed. I had always wanted to get one, but would chicken out every time, “No. um, not yet.”

“You should let me ink you.”

“Maybe I’ll let you do that,” I said that to sound adventurous, but he was going to have to do some serious convincing to get me inked. He touched a few curls that covered my face and moved my hair back, “You have beautiful skin.”

“Thanks. I love your hair.” I smiled. His hand touched my knee, “So, um, what brought you out here?”

“Just some talent scouting.”

“Oh, okay, so you’re in the industry of music, film?”

“Mostly film, but we do manage some singers. I was here to meet with a singer/actress.”

“Nice,” he replied. The cab pulled up. He paid and then we got out. As we walked, into the place, he checked me out from behind.

He walked over to the menus and we looked over for a minute. “Oh, I think I might want this seafood platter instead.” We headed up to the counter to order and I pulled out my card because I didn’t want to assume anything, “Uh-uh, ma, put that away.”

I laughed and he paid and then we found a table and waited for our food. We talked as we waited; it was something about his smile, the jazz playing in the background, and sipping on wine that just made the night feel perfect.

When the food arrived, we ate and then went to the beignet spot behind the restaurant. We ordered to go and ate as we walked to the street car stop.

He stood in front of me, I saw some powdered sugar on the corner of his mouth, I reached up, “Let me get that.” I wiped off his mouth with my thumb; he placed his hands on my hips. I placed my hand in his thick luscious mane. He leaned in and kissed my lips, just a soft peck.

We heard the street car screech to a stop, the door opened and we got in and found a seat up front. We sat close, hugged up like teenagers courting. I leaned in and kissed his neck, his cologne smelled so good, he laughed and said, “Don’t start nothing you can’t finish.”

“Oh, I always finish what I start,” I replied with certainty.

He nodded, “We gone see.”

When we got to the foot of Canal Street, we walked along the river, the city was busy, so many college students, but for us, it was just us, he wrapped his arms around me while standing behind me, “Can I take a picture of us? We might not see each other again, but I want to remember you.” He pulled out his cellphone and we took some selfies, “We look good,” he commented.

“We do.”

He placed his hand on my waist, “I bet I could pick you up.”

“I’m not as tiny as you think.”

“I can squat you.”

I mounted his back, “Okay, this is 145 pounds.” He squatted me with ease. After laughing for several minutes, he finally put me down. “So, tomorrow, I’m giving you your first tattoo after we have breakfast.”

“We’re having breakfast?”

“Yeah. Unless—”

“No, it’s cool.”

“You ready?”

I nodded. I was so ready. Like man if you don’t come on and give me some of that dick.

When we got back, he stood by his door as if he didn’t know what I wanted, “Is this good night?” he asked, holding his card key. I took the key from his hand and opened his door and went in. He walked in grinning.

“So.”

I walked up to him and immediately began kissing him, pulling off his shirt. His chest filled with ink art, I licked his nipples and kissed his chest. “You wanna take it to the bed?” he asked.

And I don’t know what happened, I became so wild, “I want you to fuck me against the wall.”

He bit his lip and nodded, he dropped those pants and showed me what he was working with and I got excited. I touched him. He walked me backwards, until I was pressed against the wall, he undid my pants and peeled them off, then went down.

He opened my legs wider and drank from my cup, using his thumb to tap on my clit and fingers to penetrate, “Shit, papi,” I said. The way he used the tip of his tongue to draw and flick my shit, caused my legs to buckle, I wet his face, he stood up wiped his chin. I knew what he wanted. So, I went down, gripped him like I was holding a microphone at a poetry slam and all I had was three minutes and ten seconds to spit my piece.

He held onto my head, he didn’t know I was just as gifted with my mouth, he uttered obscenities, “Ahhhhhh.” He stepped back and lifted me up, pressed me on the wall, looked right into my eyes and pushed that long thick master piece inside of my pussy and just paused to let me savor all of him.

My body was already trembling. His eyes locked on mine and I knew he was about to tear my shit up. I grinned inside. He started stroking with a nice rhythm and I was tightening my walls on his dick, he smiled just before leaning over and filling his mouth with my left nipple.

He lifted my right leg and dug deeper, my leg started to shake. I felt this wave over my body and I dug my nails into his back and bit his shoulder and said, “Oh fuck.”

Then with those strong arms, he lifted me in the air and bounced me on his dick for several minutes, before walking me to the sofa in the suite and laying me down. He looked down at me, placed my right leg over his shoulder, thrusting and grinding, I saw the sweat bead on his forehead, his thumb playing with my gem and then the ripple went through my body again, this time more intensely. I was shaking and tears formed in my eyes.

He bit his lip and grinned before connecting his chest with my breasts, slowing down his tempo, “You alright, ma?” he asked. I nodded. He showered me with kisses along my neck and then started licking my titties.

“My god,” I said as I moaned.

He grinned, “You never been fucked like this before?” he asked. I shook my head. I had decent sex with Corey and my first love, but this, was some next level dick. I had never been fucked to tears.

I could feel him picking up his tempo and finally, he pulled out and released on my tummy.