Read Online Sex, Secrets and South Beach by Méta Smith - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Méta Smith
Ads: Link
Derek. Desiree decided to try to
engage Fuzzy in some small talk. So far, he hadn't said a word, and
she was dying to know if his voice was as sexy as his
brother's.
"So why do they call you Fuzzy?" she
asked. He grinned, and Desiree felt her insides grow hot. He faced
her, his eyes faintly visible behind the dark lenses of his
sunglasses.
"Because the gals them say me goatee
feels fuzzy when I'm downtown," he offered suggestively; then
chuckled and stroked the dark, smooth hairs of his immaculately
groomed goatee. Desiree wondered if he could tell that she was wet
from the mere thought of his tongue touching her. Suddenly, she
realized why Ginger wasn't stressing about money, or anything else,
for that matter. Maybe it was the combination of the flora and
salty ocean air, the exotic aromas rising from the street vendors'
carts, and Fuzzy's cologne, but she felt intoxicated. It was like
Fuzzy had her under some spell and she couldn't break free. She
thought of the Miss Cleo psychic-hotline commercial, the one with
the girl with the burgundy weave claiming, "I think someone put
roots on me; what should I do?" She knew what she was gonna do. She
was gonna fuck Fuzzy. Even if she didn't make a dime, she was gonna
get that dick.
The following week was
miserable for Desiree . The men at the club
weren't feeling her at all. They all kept claiming she was skinny,
even though she had a big ass and terrific legs. She was far from
anorexic, but the men acted like she was a dancing skeleton. She
managed to scrape up two hundred dollars a night, but after rolling
with Ginger she was used to making at least four hundred on her
slowest of nights. And to make matters worse, she hadn't seen Fuzzy
since they first met. Ginger's days were filled with Derek this and
Derek that. Occasionally, Desiree tagged along with them, but after
accompanying them to St. John she decided to let them have their
privacy. They'd hugged and kissed so much that she only felt worse
for being a third wheel. There were other men on the island who
tried to holler, but Desiree had her heart set on Fuzzy. Besides,
the other men had all been broke compared to Fuzzy.
Tired of seeing Desiree mope, Ginger
decided to take action. She phoned Derek and instructed him that he
and Fuzzy were taking them to the beach at Magen's Bay and there
were no ifs, ands, or buts about it. Desiree got angry; she wasn't
a charity case. But Ginger insisted that she get cute and game
up.
"I know that nigga and I know you. You
can get with that. Put on that orange-flowered thong. Show off your
shape. Put on some makeup and wear your hair down, not in a
ponytail. Come on now. I taught you better," Ginger admonished,
sounding more like a mother than a friend.
Desiree did as she was told, taking
extra care to emphasize her eyes. If she went swimming, she knew it
would all be for nothing, but what the hell, she was willing to do
whatever to get with Fuzzy. She wrapped a sarong around her body
and waited with Ginger, who shook her head.
"Don't worry, ma. I got this," Desiree
told her confidently.
"Okay. The force is strong
within you, young Skywalker, but you are not a Jedi yet," Ginger
teased. Ginger was a true computer geek; she loved the Star Wars
series and Star Trek and was always quoting some
science fiction shit or other.
"There you go, Poindexter. I'm telling
you, it's handled. I won't be going in to work tonight cuz, um, I'm
gonna be tied up with Fuzzy all night long," Desiree
predicted.
The view from the winding
hills of St. Thomas of the azure water and
pale sand was breathtaking. It was a far cry from the port side of
Charlotte Amalie with its shops and restaurants and docked ships.
This was nature at its finest. Desiree had hated riding in St.
Thomas; the cars drove on the wrong side, they seemed to have no
speed limit or traffic laws, and the roads were tiny and usually
had a goat or some chickens roaming in them; but now she felt no
fear. She felt exhilarated, as if the car
engage Fuzzy in some small talk. So far, he hadn't said a word, and
she was dying to know if his voice was as sexy as his
brother's.
"So why do they call you Fuzzy?" she
asked. He grinned, and Desiree felt her insides grow hot. He faced
her, his eyes faintly visible behind the dark lenses of his
sunglasses.
"Because the gals them say me goatee
feels fuzzy when I'm downtown," he offered suggestively; then
chuckled and stroked the dark, smooth hairs of his immaculately
groomed goatee. Desiree wondered if he could tell that she was wet
from the mere thought of his tongue touching her. Suddenly, she
realized why Ginger wasn't stressing about money, or anything else,
for that matter. Maybe it was the combination of the flora and
salty ocean air, the exotic aromas rising from the street vendors'
carts, and Fuzzy's cologne, but she felt intoxicated. It was like
Fuzzy had her under some spell and she couldn't break free. She
thought of the Miss Cleo psychic-hotline commercial, the one with
the girl with the burgundy weave claiming, "I think someone put
roots on me; what should I do?" She knew what she was gonna do. She
was gonna fuck Fuzzy. Even if she didn't make a dime, she was gonna
get that dick.
The following week was
miserable for Desiree . The men at the club
weren't feeling her at all. They all kept claiming she was skinny,
even though she had a big ass and terrific legs. She was far from
anorexic, but the men acted like she was a dancing skeleton. She
managed to scrape up two hundred dollars a night, but after rolling
with Ginger she was used to making at least four hundred on her
slowest of nights. And to make matters worse, she hadn't seen Fuzzy
since they first met. Ginger's days were filled with Derek this and
Derek that. Occasionally, Desiree tagged along with them, but after
accompanying them to St. John she decided to let them have their
privacy. They'd hugged and kissed so much that she only felt worse
for being a third wheel. There were other men on the island who
tried to holler, but Desiree had her heart set on Fuzzy. Besides,
the other men had all been broke compared to Fuzzy.
Tired of seeing Desiree mope, Ginger
decided to take action. She phoned Derek and instructed him that he
and Fuzzy were taking them to the beach at Magen's Bay and there
were no ifs, ands, or buts about it. Desiree got angry; she wasn't
a charity case. But Ginger insisted that she get cute and game
up.
"I know that nigga and I know you. You
can get with that. Put on that orange-flowered thong. Show off your
shape. Put on some makeup and wear your hair down, not in a
ponytail. Come on now. I taught you better," Ginger admonished,
sounding more like a mother than a friend.
Desiree did as she was told, taking
extra care to emphasize her eyes. If she went swimming, she knew it
would all be for nothing, but what the hell, she was willing to do
whatever to get with Fuzzy. She wrapped a sarong around her body
and waited with Ginger, who shook her head.
"Don't worry, ma. I got this," Desiree
told her confidently.
"Okay. The force is strong
within you, young Skywalker, but you are not a Jedi yet," Ginger
teased. Ginger was a true computer geek; she loved the Star Wars
series and Star Trek and was always quoting some
science fiction shit or other.
"There you go, Poindexter. I'm telling
you, it's handled. I won't be going in to work tonight cuz, um, I'm
gonna be tied up with Fuzzy all night long," Desiree
predicted.
The view from the winding
hills of St. Thomas of the azure water and
pale sand was breathtaking. It was a far cry from the port side of
Charlotte Amalie with its shops and restaurants and docked ships.
This was nature at its finest. Desiree had hated riding in St.
Thomas; the cars drove on the wrong side, they seemed to have no
speed limit or traffic laws, and the roads were tiny and usually
had a goat or some chickens roaming in them; but now she felt no
fear. She felt exhilarated, as if the car
Similar Books
