Chocolate Flava (Chocolate Flava 1)

She purposely showed surprise this time. “You? But—”

“Ms. Epperson, we don’t have much time,” Gaddys said. “I am prepared to walk out of your life right now, and you can go your way and there will be no hard feelings. Your loss of self-control last night will never be mentioned to anybody.” He leaned close to her and said it as though it might be. “But I sense that you are a woman in search of new horizons. Knowledge. That you are a woman who wants to…learn. I can teach you, Ms. Epperson. I can be your guide. I can guide you to new vistas, new horizons where you can discover your true potential.”

Are you pushing Amway distributorships? Selena thought. I bet I know what kind of new horizons he means. Horizontal horizons.

Gaddys pulled a flat brown envelope out of his backpack and handed it to her.

She started to open it.

“Not now,” he said. “Wait till you’re home. Alone. Then peruse the contents. If you are intrigued, if you want to go further, call this number.”

He handed her a card. Oh, he was good. A cagey bastard. But Selena had more moves than a Russian chess master.

“If you don’t, it’s been nice meeting you.”

As he stood up, Gaddys “accidentally” brushed her knee. She made herself jump skittishly. It was the reaction he wanted to see.

“Have a nice day,” he said. And then he was gone.

Back home, Selena opened the package and found it contained a document of several pages and a book. The title of the document was “Agreement between Pupil and Instructor” but it was your standard B&D master and slave contract. Probably changed the “hereinafter referred to’s” out of deference to African-American sensibilities—even the most masochistic sistah ain’t gon’ let nobody call her no slave!

The book was a copy of The Story of O. Oh brother. Not only had she read it, but she’d written three or four under her pen name, “Whippi” Goldberg, that made it look like Mother Goose.

So we like to play rough, do we? She laughed to herself. Well, baby, I hope you got your kneepads on!

Part V

“Well, Ms. Smartypants,” Selena whispered to herself. “Here’s another fine mess you’ve gotten yourself into.”

It was the next evening. She was naked, spread-eagle, and tied to a bed in Gaddys’ house.

Well, she wasn’t really tied down. Her “bonds” were red silk ribbons with cute little bows in the knots. Not very tight. She could have ripped loose anytime she wanted to.

Her surroundings were rather pleasant, really. She was in a bedroom with ornate pink-white-and-gold-inlaid wallpaper. There was a mirrored ceiling, of course. The comfortable, king-sized bed was made up with scented black silk sheets. Soothing music played on the box, romantic stuff. The air was thick with sweet perfume and incense. Several cut crystal vases holding red roses sat around the stuffed room.

Earlier she and Gaddys dined on pheasant under glass and had sipped expensive Cristal champagne in a sumptuous dining room, using gold plates and flatware.

He had then led her to a luxurious bathroom with a huge marble sunken tub, where she had stripped and bathed alone in warm, herbal-scented mineral waters.

After that they’d necked a little in his spacious living room, and then he’d led her to the bedroom and asked had she read The Story of O.

“Yes,” she’d replied.

Did she want to go further, he’d asked. You can leave now with no questions asked. No hard feelings.

She had nodded. Only then did he have her sign the contract.

Oh, he was good!

He’d then gently peeled away her bathrobe, then lifted her up and laid her down, naked, on the bed and fastened her wrists and ankles to the bedposts with the red silk ribbons.

He was good, all right. A sistah could get to love her some of this B&D, ’cuz this was the shizzat! Maybe he was too good. She was so comfortable, full,

and warm, she felt a little like taking a nap.

No time for that.

Gaddys was standing at the foot of the bed, naked but for a black silk Japanese kimono, and sipping from an expensive antique crystal brandy snifter full of vintage cognac. He was looking all debonair with one eyebrow raised like he was B’wana Dick or somebody. If she fell asleep on him now, he’d get so miffed he probably wouldn’t be able to get his little peter stiff.