To a buccaneer at heart,
You don’t see me,
but I see you.
Tonight, I want to change that.
Enclosed with this note is your new identity and passage to freedom.
Wear the dress provided. Use the masks. Ask no questions.
I’m about to give you a night you won't forget.
Rose

ONE

All my life, I’ve been in love with one girl, Annette Thuraya. We grew up in Magodo, went to the University of Lagos, shared an apartment in Atlanta studying at GSU, and returned home to start an Interior design company. 

We look good together, Annette and me.

Her 5’8, bronze skin is the perfect mate to my 6’1 coffee skin. People stop and stare at us, call us ‘cute’, and yeah, she’s always quick to say ‘No we’re not dating. Just friends,’ to my deep dissatisfaction. 

After a dismal attempt at making out when we turned eighteen, Annette decided I wasn’t the man for her. Her reason? My breath tasted like arsenic. I wanted to tell her I’d fantasized about kissing her a zillion times and desired her so bad my lungs circulated toxic gas when her lips touched mine.

But I gulped down my starved need; became her “guy best friend” and co-founder.

After years of friend-zone incarceration, my soul began a restless stir, a desperate need to change our relationship status. The plan? An anonymous note sent to her a couple of days back. If all goes well, she would, (a) vibe to my note and float my boat, (b) ignore it and sink it.

Either way, I was done not knowing.

 Seated in my office that Valentine’s Wednesday and hearing her voice in the hallway, I grinned. Typical Annette. It took tremendous effort to please her and very little to piss her off. I couldn’t make out her words, but whoever was on the receiving end of her vitriol better have their shields high. Otherwise, adios motherflecker.

Dusting a non-existent speck off my blazer, I picked up a flask of specially made coffee and entered her office.

“What the fuck is going on, Donald? Why does the entire office smell of roses and shit?”

Okay, when she calls me Donald, I worry. Donald means she’s pissed at me. Other than that, she calls me D.

“It’s Valentine’s Day, Netta.” My ordinarily base voice moderated to soothe mode. “It’s tradition.”

“A tradition you started, Donald. I told you I hated it. I don’t need my staff going all mush and giggly over a day with a history steeped in feminine brutality and murder.”

“Thanks to Shakespeare and other romantics, the ghoulishness of the day is long gone and forgotten.”  I smiled, handing her the thermos. “Nowadays, it’s all love, babe.”

“Miss me with that, abeg.” She pursed her lips, sipping from the thermos. “I’m not interested in holidays that don’t spell business with a capital B.”

I’d argue that Valentine’s Day was big business for industries and companies like ours, but to what end?

“This is good coffee,” she said. “Is it made…”

“Just like you like it? Yes,” I said, returning her glinting smile.

“With almond milk, a dash of cinnamon, and salt.”

“Salt?”

She snickered, “I’m messing with you.” She took a long sip, closed her eyes, and let out a sensual moan that did crazy things to my wiener. “This coffee is exactly what my doctor ordered, D.”

We’re back to D, perfect.

“You always know what I need.” She took several gulps, “Why aren’t we fucking again?”

I drew blanks. “Wh–I, uh.…” I stuttered, all flustered and shit. “I’m sorry I didn’t get that. What did you say?”

“I asked why we aren’t fucking?” she winked at me and took more gulps of coffee.

I swallowed, frowned, and looked her dead in the eye. “Why aren’t we?”

She shrugged. “Anyway. Now that I’m caffeinated, let me show you what I came up with last night.” She pushed her seat towards her desk and dropped the coffee flask. “Under the Sea.”

Under the what, now? How did we flip from sex to this?

“The more I think about it, the more sense it makes.” She got off her seat. “Transatlantic overlooks Eko Atlantic. So, it makes sense that visitors should get the impression of scuba diving when they enter the hotel.”

“Erm…O-kay?”

“Lemme show you what I’m talking about.” She returned to her desk, lowered onto the executive chair, and tapped the sensor pad on her Mac.

And we’re back to business.

Transatlantic, a newly completed seven-star hotel in Eko Atlantic, was set up by two Arabs with businesses in oil, hotels, and travel. We worked hard to get their business and celebrated like mad when we landed the design contract. Hence, I should be fully invested in working out themes that would impress our Arabian clients, who, I might add, were stoic and uneasily impressed. But Annette’s question still rattled in my head.

Why aren’t we fucking again?

Heaven knows I want to. I think about her more than I think about breathing.

“This makes perfect sense, doesn’t it?” she asked.

“Mm-hm,” I said, my eyes lost in the plunging neckline of her dress. “It’s um, f—I mean, cool.”

“I know, right,” she giggled and clicked photo after photo of design plans.

Really, why weren’t we fucking?

We’ve grown from awkward teenagers who concluded that being friends was better than lovers to twentysomething moneybags whose business catered to A-list companies.

Why, then, weren’t we fucking?

“Hey, goo face.” She pelted me with a paper stone. “Did you get that?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Quit zoning out, Donald.” She rubbed her neck and winced. “We need our A-game on this gig.”

“I think we’re working too hard on this. How about we give it a rest?”

“Give it a rest, ke? See this guy?” she scoffed. “This project is due in three months, and we must come up with something legit before those Arabian frat boys run out of patience.”

“Ehn. I know. Sha, still, give it a rest.” I placed a hand on her shoulder, meant to be a friendly tap, but kneaded and massaged both shoulders instead. “Don’t come and kill yourself for me. You know I’ll die without you.”

She scoffed, let out a satisfied sigh, and reclined in her seat. “You’re so damn good at this.”

My sentiments exactly. I’m damn great at a lot of things. Sex, especially sex. The way I saw it, we’ve wasted enough time in this rhythmless dance.

TWO

Having spent most of my adult life watching her switch boyfriends faster than makeup, I’d mastered the art of Annette enough to know I only had two options to get her to say yes to me. Option A: impress her to un-friend-zone me. Option B: do something out of the ordinary that’d pique her interest. Unless I could whip up a genie with three spare wishes, I stood a better chance with option B.

That was why I sent her the note and passkey, a distinct black card with an insignia that allowed her uninhibited access to a place where we could both explore our deeper sides and lay bare our inhibitions—Club Nova.

Being a private place known only to select moneyed guys like me, Club Nova allowed users to live without judgment, explore their innate desires, debased or otherwise, and be who they ordinarily wouldn’t dare to be when society watched. Best of all, Club Nova lets me be the person I’d allow no one to see me be—a drag queen.

People might think me queer to indulge in costume makeup and fancy clothes. I know my parents would have a fit if they were to see me present this side of me, so I spent all my adult life numbing that side of me. When I found the club, thanks to an old-school buddy, I found an outlet to exhibit my art.

As much as I enjoyed my freedom, thrived in spending night after night turning my facial skin into a canvas, and walking freely in a room full of people who didn’t care how I was dressed, something was still missing. I wanted—fuck that—needed someone to share this intimate side of myself with. And who better than the only girl I’d loved my whole life?

Seated at the VVIP section of the club, I anxiously watched the door for her arrival. The instructions I sent her were easy to follow and open to multiple interpretations. If she caught on in time. I’d be the first person she saw when she got in.

A slight disturbance around my booth drew my attention away from the door and towards a small crowd of people dressed in black suits that fitted like a glove and faces covered in contrasting white masks. Their undertaker demeanor elicited some appreciative sighs and giggles from a pair of ladies seated in a booth beside mine.

Smothering a slight chuckle, I found one of the men’s gazes fixed on me, then he slowly approached my side of the room. Here we go, I grinned, watching his approach. Not my first rodeo, to be honest. Given my dress preference since discovering Club Nova, I was used to being propositioned by guys believing I took my orgasm from behind. Not that I’d fended them off or anything. I mean, it was all a game, a fantasy. And on nights when I was dressed en travesti and fully connected with my feminine side, I allowed myself the pleasure of meaningless flirtations.

“Hey,” he said with a smile I’d find sexy if I kissed boys.

“Hey.”

“Wanna step over to our side of the bar?”

“I like my side just fine.”

“You’re sure?” He slowly unbuttoned his shirt and struck a model pose. “I could tell you were checking me out.”

“It was on display, so—” I shrugged, then stiffened as…

“Bros, how far?” A voice I’ll recognize from anywhere said. “Why are you eyeing my babe?”

Fly guy flashed her a derisory sideways glance and smirked, “So what if I am?”

Annette’s flitting eyes regarded me through her gold mask. “Then I’ll nicely ask you to look elsewhere ‘cause this one’s mine.” She flashed him a trite grin, watched him return to his side of the bar, and sat across from me.

The feminine part of my brain that adored women’s clothes tingled at the thought that she had just called me her babe and fought off a guy to be with me.

“Hi,” I said, thrusting down the tremor in my throat with a quick swallow and hoping her laser gaze couldn’t see through my mask.

“Hello, Rose. I got your note. Now make good on your promise to give me a night I’d never forget.”

THREE

Okay, Donald. It’s showtime.

I exhaled, smiled, clenched and unclenched my trembling hands, and harrumphed. Showtime. We’d wasted more than enough time skirting around and shit. With her here, me here, I had to do what I had to do. Even though it might end up defining our relationship or breaking us up. Damn, I was about to put my life in her hands, give her the power to break or make me. Omo, it better be the latter o ‘cause there was no way I’d survive a world that didn’t include Annette.

“Rose?” she said, impatience eminent in her voice.

“Hey, Daisy,” I said, forcing confidence onto my core. Goddamn, if I smoked, I’d suck in a joint right now to calm my jittery hands.

“I’m feeling the staring vibe, but…” Annette said, a cocky smile creasing her lips. “Is it supposed to turn me on?”

Grinning, I beckoned for her to sit next to me. Nervous or not, I was in control. Outside, she may be the queen of my heart and controller of my composure, but tonight, she was Daisy, mine to control and do with as I saw fit.

I watched her lower onto the couch and cross her legs. Her sheer dress rode up a pair of naked flesh sheathing the creamiest thighs.

“You’re gorgeous, Daisy,” I said.

“I know,” she said, uncrossing her legs and slowly parting them, keeping her gaze fixed on me. “Now, what will you do with all this gorgeousness?”

“Patience, Daisy.”

“I don’t run on that street. Time is money.” She licked her lips, reclined on the sofa, and my eyes fell head-over-heels-in-lust with the pointed peaks of her hardened nipples. “Or, in this case, orgasm.”

“Pleasure…is patience.” Palms flattened on her back, I lowered my head on her chest, relished her inhaled breath, bated sighs, and flicked my gaze from her beckoning nipples to her desires pooled eyes. “And if you let me, I’ll make it my life’s duty to pleasure you, An—Daisy.”

“In that case,” she said, took my hand, and sucked in a finger. “Get on with it.” Her warm tongue wrapped around my finger put my brain on lockdown.

“Daisy,” I said, exhaled, and pulled away. “Patience.”

She scoffed, looked me dead in the eye, and shrugged. “Why did you send me that package?”

My kiss was swift. “I ask the questions; you give the answers.”

“Too many rules spoil the fun.” She sucked in a startled breath when I pinched and slowly rubbed her nipples. “Besides, I don’t obey rules. I break them.”

Not tonight, you don’t.

“Don’t tell me about your dirtiest secrets, then.” Thirsty for those nipples, I closed in on her, pried her bodice off, and wrapped my mouth around a pointy chocolate bud.

“Rose,” she said, arching her back and hissing a drawn-out moan. “Welcome to the party.”

Her skin’s flavor, a tangy combination of salt and fiery desire, burst into my mouth, powered my tongue, and snuffed out every vestige of control I’d had since pretending I was okay with being just friends.

Annette, my lungs called out, hands brushed off the hem of her dress, fingers frantically searched, yearned, craved, wanting everything and everywhere inside her. The brush of my fingers on her pussy-slit sent me over the edge.

“Rose,” she gasped, spreading her legs, clutching my head, writhing in my arms as my tongue ravaged her nipple, fingers strung her wet clit, and dipped into her dripping wet pussy. “I’ve never made out with a girl.”

I’m not a girl, Daisy. I don’t even identify as one. I’m just a guy unleashing his bridled need.

My insatiable tongue clasped one nipple, then the other, sucked hungrily like I hoped to draw milk. Maybe I did. Heck, I’d starved myself of her. I needed my fill—a recompense for the torturous years of watching her date other men.

“I’m gonna brand you, Daisy.” I resumed latching on her neck, making good on my promise by nibbling her with my teeth, “Print my name on your body.”

“I want to touch you.”

“No.” I tightened my vise-like hold of her arms pinned above her head. “Your pleasure is mine and mine alone.”

“Yes.”

“Allow me to worship your body.” 

She squirmed, then gasped when I laid her flat on my legs, parted her legs, and breathed life into her creamy pussy.

“Beautiful,” I said, staring transfixed at the V-slit on her fur panties—a kinky part of the package I sent her. “So fucking beautiful.”

“Rose.” She exhaled, biting her bottom lip as I eased the panties off and rubbed on her dripping clit. Her sighs were like a magnet to my mouth. Her scent inflamed my nose and gave my teeth a new purpose—lovingly adore and bite those lips between her legs.

“Rose,” she jerked, writhed, cradled my head between her legs, and surrendered her body to the blissful ministrations of my adoring mouth.

If tonight was all about me, I’d have guided her hand to my inflamed member nestled in tight briefs, but tonight wasn’t about me. Tonight was about getting the love of my life to fall either in love or in lust with me. Anyone, I don’t care. As long as she fell, stayed, and committed herself to me.

Tonight was also about charms and delayed gratifications.

She shrieked when I pulled away and threw confused eyes at me.

“Do you touch yourself, Daisy?” I asked, watching tremors slither down her legs and body.

“What?” she asked, a confused frown masking her face.

“Do you touch yourself?”

“Yes.”

 “Tell me what you think about when you touch yourself.”

“Rose.” She exhaled, then shivered. “I need to finish. I must—”

“Tell me.”

“It’s not what I think about.” She groaned, then fought to release her hands. “It’s who I think about.”       

“Good. Who do you think about when you touch yourself?” She attempted to sit up, and I held on tight. “Relax, okay. Your body…” I placed soft kisses on both sides of her inner thighs. “And pleasure is mine, Daisy.”

“Then get to it.”

“Trust me, Daisy. You have no idea how much I’m dying to fuck you senseless right now.”

“So what’s stopping you?”

“I need—scratch that—I’m desperate to know all about your sexual fantasies.”

“Donald.”

My lungs punctured. “What?”

“I imagine Donald and me masturbating each other during board meetings.”

How did I miss that?

“Donald. Hm.” I may have hidden the surprise on my face, but keeping the excitement off my voice was too difficult to imagine, let alone attempt. “Donald sounds like an interesting guy. Tell me more about him.”

“I will.” She smirked. “After your tongue finished what it started.

I grinned. “You drive a hard bargain, Daisy.”

“You have no—ohhhh…..idea.”

I sent my tongue places they’d been dying to go, then withdrew.

She threw a horrified look at me. Her eyes asked, the ‘what the fuck?’ her mouth couldn’t

“Does Donald want these things with you?”

“Less talk and more pleasure, Rose.”

“I make the rules, Daisy.”

“And I told you I don’t obey rules.”

“Humor me, then.”

She rolled her eyes. “I don’t know. Besides, I don’t mix business with pleasure.”

I smiled to hide my disappointment.

She winked. “Now, where were we?”

“What if he wants it too, this…Donald guy.”

“He and I can never be that way.”

“Why?”

Her eyes glistened at the amplified notch of my voice, then peered closely at my masked face.

“Why are you asking these questions?” she said.

“Why do you think?” I was approaching a point where I didn’t care. I wanted her, us, to be together. And if she wanted it, I didn’t see any point in staying hidden.

“I came here for sex, Rose, not—”

I scoffed. “Yeah. Figures. Reckless sex with strangers while friend-zoning a guy probably in love with you.”

She gasped and pulled off of me. “For a pleasure seeker, you sure are talkative, not to add nosey.” She adjusted her dress and threw a frustrated glance around. When a glimmer of interest crept into her eyes, I followed her gaze to find them fixated on the Black Panther guys pleasuring themselves to a group of strippers sexually stimulating each other.

The tidal wave of jealousy blew my composure to shits and made me grip the seat. “Looking to join them?”

“Why not? I mean.” She shrugged and scoffed. “They’re not as total a drag as you are.”

“That’s a mean thing to say to me.”

“So what?” She kissed her teeth and got up. “Your note excited me, Rose. I felt the mystic vibe and promise of an adventure about it.”

“So why are you leaving?”

“You’re wasting my time on dumb rules and twenty-one questions.”

“Daisy—” She pushed past me and stomped out of the club.

FOUR

After Annette’s sudden departure, the rest of my night at Club Nova nosedived. I stared moodily at the loud party of people having a good time, indulging in their wildest fantasies, and living life to the fullest. Refusing to come to the one conclusion I’d been wary of reaching, I was in love with a girl who would never return my affection. Chai, Donald, who do you this thing? To think she dared to say he and I can never be that way? What the fuck did that even mean? God, I—ugh!

I called my driver at 4 AM. At its all-time low, my mood was utterly disconnected from the club’s zesty atmosphere. No point rubbing my sullenness off on others. I saw my Black Panther admirer approach my side of the bar just as my phone beeped my driver’s arrival.

“Yo!” My Black Panther admirer said, “Your girl ditched you?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Sucks.”

“Tell me about it.”

“You ever wanna hang out, try something new.” He handed me a card that was blue under the club’s disco lights. “Call me.”

“Sure.”

As stated on the card, Black Panther owned a billion-dollar company with offices across the globe. Annette and I had repeatedly pitched their company without success. Too bad I was straighter than an arrow. If not, my Black Panther eye candy would have made for a perfect switch from “Annetta” to “Wakanda.”

The radio was abuzz with Valentine’s romantic jive as with the air. Mtchew, I sighed and reclined on the seat, tired of being alone year after year. Tired of spending Valentine’s day alone. Tired, fucking tired of waiting for Annette to notice me. It wasn’t like I was asking for too much, nau, was I? I just needed her to choose me, want me. She didn’t even need to love me. Damn. Perched in the backseat of my Jaguar, I swallowed angry tears when Ed Sheeran’s Perfect came on. Too bad, man. Too fucking bad ‘cause I’d seen this fucking movie before, and I sure as shit didn’t like the ending. The tragic end of going home alone with a broken heart on prom night because my kiss irritated Annette goddamn Thuraya.

“Are we going to your apartment or your parents’?” My driver asked.

“My place.”

I needed tonight alone to mourn and come to terms with my reality. I was uncertain if I’d keep running the business with her, unsure if I’d be able to look her in the eye and not lash out. My patience with waiting for Annette to see me as a man, not a business partner, had run out. I’d tasted, touched, and seen her sweet surrender, and there was no way I’d look at her the same without wanting to—ugh!

After a drab Sunday of binging on Netflix’s Star Trek Enterprise over several bottles of wine, I got to work on Monday to a splitting headache and boisterous Annette.

“You look like shit, D.”

Honestly, this girl knew how to fuck up my emotions; I swear to God! First, she walked out on me after that bombshell she dropped, then made me lose sleep, and then blamed me for looking exactly how she’d made me feel my whole life. Fair play, Annette. Fair, fucking play.

“Guess what?” she beamed. “I had the weirdest weekend.”

“I’m not interested in how your weekend went, Annette.” I downed a cup of coffee, fetched another, and powered my computer. “I have a ton of emails to sieve through. Can you excuse me?”

“Get the stick off your ass—”

“Oh, enough with the vulgar phrases, Annette. I’m sick of it!”

“What is wrong with you?”

I flopped down on the seat, irritated at myself for losing my cool. “Nothing. I didn’t get enough sleep last night.”

She grinned, sashayed towards me, and stroked my smooth-shaven chin. “Feel better, D.”

Her touch elicited an involuntary gasp, drew my eyes to hers, and made it utterly impossible to stay collected.

“Are you wearing a new cologne?” she asked.

Duh! Of course, I was. The perfume from Club Nova. After what I’ve learned, did you honestly think I’d return to being just a friend?

“Yeah? You like it?” I asked, fixing my gaze dead in her eyes.

Say you remember, Annette.

“Smells kinda familiar.”

“It does?”

“Mm-hm.” She squinted, leaned forward, sniffed, and locked eyes with me.

Say it.

“Can’t place it,” she said.

Fuck!

 “Anyway, don’t forget this afternoon’s meeting with the design team.” She picked up and sipped from my coffee cup.

There goes my moment.

“It’s today?”

“Yeah, 2 PM. Come in a better mood.” She winked and pranced out the door, my cup of coffee in her hand.

FIVE

“Don’t tell me you spent the entire weekend eating chocolates and sniffing flowers only to come up with this shit!” Annette snapped at one of the ladies in the design team, “This is why I don’t encourage slacking off work to celebrate Valentine’s Day, Donald. This. Is. Exactly. Why?”

“Calm down,” I said.

“Ugh. They become irritatingly cheesy.”

I gave her a warm smile and regarded the lady handling the presentation. Though she tried to hide it, I could tell she’d mentally cursed Annette in her native tongue.

“Can you readjust your plan, Onome, to one with vibrant colors and matching themes? It’s a resort; remember. Their main selling point is cheer and happiness. We need to make the room reflect that.”

“Yes, sir,” Onome smiled, immediately rallied around her team, and resumed showing us a better alternative to her previous plans.

When I caught her reflective gaze, I turned to give Annette a mild look of reprimand.

“You’re too indulgent with them,” she said.

“One of us has to be.”

Her grin brightened, then she sucked in her lower lip and leaned forward. “Maybe you’re a softie ‘cause you’re partly female.”

A sudden inhaled breath choked my throat. “What?”

“Your perfume,” she whispered.

My heart dropped to my stomach, “W-what about it?”

She pulled her seat closer to mine and locked gazes. “Why don’t you tell me?”

“There’s nothing to….” I stiffened when her fingers crawled up my thigh. Then sucked in a lusty breath when she unzipped my pants.

“I wondered how she knew my address, clothes size, and underwear choice.”

“Annette?”

“Do you want me to stop?”

“God, no!”

She grinned, stroked, then held my length in her hands.

Oh, God! A sudden rush of air to my lungs and ears drowned the sound of Onome’s speech on the psychology of colors.

Sweet fuck!

“Are you listening, ma?” Onome asked.

“Yes,” Annette said, her voice reflecting nothing of the sensual hell she’d dunked me in.

I bit hard on a clenched fist to silence the throaty moan that gurgled up my throat and unconsciously edged on my seat to allow her full access to my purring cock. My eyes, when they caught her mesmerizing nipple print, triggered a throaty moan I embarrassedly tried to cover with a fake cough.

“Do you need water, sir?” Onome asked.

Damn, and blast water. I need a drink, a tall glass of undiluted Annette. I briefly turned to Onome and shook my head, then returned them to my tormentor, whose eyes were partly glazed in heat and mischief.

“You’re doing well, Onome,” she said.

“I’m glad you like this new design, ma?”

“Yes,” Annette replied, giggling. “It’s perfect. Please carry on with your presentation.”

She kept her gaze fixed on Onome’s presentation, nodded occasionally, and made targeted remarks while gliding her hand up and down my pole.

Oh, my sweet and sexy fuckzilla.

The spurt of fiery liquid that rushed out of me lubricated my 10-inch cock, blazed my balls to the edge, and jarred my senses to the thought that I was about to shoot my fucking shot. Man, I was coming in hot! If I don’t abort this mission now, I’ll detonate.

“Hmm… uh…. Thank you, Onome.” I rested my elbows on the desk and steepled my fingers, “Please, let’s postpone this presentation.”

“What, why?” Annette asked.

I flashed her a death glare. She had to ask? I was no party pooper or anything. I’d match this game any day if I had time to prepare. Besides, after spending years wanting her, I’d run low on self-control. And given how deftly she was handling my cock, it was only a matter of seconds before my champagne popped.

“I have another color scheme I want to observe before the close of work.”

“Fair enough,” Annette said, did a quick rubdown, and removed her hand.

Come back here, you!

I took her hand and guided it back, “Let’s reconvene tomorrow, same time.”

“Okay, sir,” Onome said, then she and her team took all the time in the world packing and arranging their equipment.

“You can leave the stuff,” I said, then pressed a fist to my mouth to silence a moan.

Annette, the cursed vixen, giggled into her palm when I glared at them in brimming impatience.

“Okay, sir,” Onome said, and they finally filed out in one…no two fucking seconds!

“God, Annette,” I said, grabbing and placing her on my thighs as soon as the door closed Onome and her team out.

“Rose,” she said as I hurriedly unbuttoned her shirt.

“Daisy,” I said and hungrily claimed a nipple. “So, you’ve been dreaming of me?”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I wasn’t sure my breath tasted better than arsenic.”

“Let me be the judge of that.”

She sucked my tongue with a fervor that filled my blood with a head rush of dopamine while rubbing her sex on my engorged phallus.

“This changes nothing,” she said.

It doesn’t?

“I’m only acting out a sexual frustration from a wasted night at Club Nova.”

I cradled her face and looked squarely into her eyes, “I’ve wanted you all my life, Annette.”

“Wanted?”

“Loved.”

She giggled, “You do, huh?”

“Of course I do, silly. Why else did you think I followed you everywhere?”

“I thought you liked my jokes.”

I chuckled and pulled her lips back onto mine. When I tugged at her skirt, she gently raised her hips, speedily pushed it up her waist, then threw her head back and breathed out a lusty moan when I shifted her panties and eased my way home.

“Annette.” I squeezed hard on her buttocks, eased deeper into her, and rode her as hard as I’d always imagined I would love to ride her. “We fit so perfectly.”

She clutched my lips with hers and heightened the tempo by ravenously slamming her hips against mine.

“Slow…”

“No, I like it hard, and I love it fast.”

Of course, I groaned in a delirious quiver. That’s how she’d want it. Hard and fast. And yes, like everything we have in common, I love it hard, fast, and made in Annette. Our orgasm hit us like a freight train and got us fusing our lips in a carnal kiss to keep from announcing our post-Club Nova activities.

“You love me, don’t you?” I asked. I was in, not just physically but emotionally and mentally. I needed to know that she was too.

“Sure.”

“Sure, what.”

She flashed me a funny look and grinned, “You sure are talkative, Rose.”

“Now you know my secret.”

“And I love your secret.”

“And me?”

“And you.”

“Is it safe to say you enjoy making out with girls?”

“I knew you weren’t a girl when you strapped me on your legs.” She moved slightly with my cock still sheathed in her. “Your big D is too humongous to hide, Papi.”

“Papi?”

“You like it?”

More than you’ll ever know, ‘Netta, I smiled.

“There’s another side of me you need to know.” She nibbled my lower lip and slowly ground her still-dripping cunt on me. “I like to dominate.”

“Of course you do,” I said in a sharp burst of ecstatic laughter, buried my face in the haven of her bosom, and hugged her tightly. Happy to be finally home.

In the next hour of my finding Atlantis, and for the rest of our lives, we freely explored our kinky sides, closed the black panther deal, remained Daisy and Rose at Club Nova, and still jerked each other off at board meetings.

And, yeah. I still got a hard-on whenever she called me Papi.