The middle-aged, mocha-complexioned woman, with salt and pepper hair, dressed in a black business suit, put her hands on her hips with attitude and whispered, “When are you going to stop using our female customers as your dirty little doggy-bone toys?”
Canderick bagged the putter and threw his navy-blue blazer over his shoulder. He walked up to her and leaned in close enough to smell her breath.
“You’re not thinking about growing balls and running to Harry, are you? You wouldn’t want Harry to come across our dirty little sex DVD, taped to his desk, of this dog lapping up your sweet juices that belong to him, now would you?”
“I know about your little operation, Canderick. You’re sick. It’s not enough that you force these women into having sex with you, but sending your goons to break into their houses afterward is just plain sick.”
“I don’t have sex with them—well, maybe some I do—but I eat their pussies. And how many times must I tell you that it’s not what you know, but what you can prove.”
“Canderick, you’re a black-hearted, self-serving narcissist. One day you’re gonna reap what you sow. Trust me, boyfriend, I will have my happy ending.”
“What is it, Mrs. Reynolds? Mad because I’m not eating your geriatric pussy anymore?” He didn’t give her a chance to respond. Canderick laughed in Claudette’s face before he walked off.
Sasha’s picture text proved her to be a dime. She was what you called “ghetto-gorgeous.” Sasha was caramel-complexioned with a shoulder-length weave and long, fake eyelashes. She was slim but filled out in the appropriate places. Canderick usually turned his nose up at ghetto chicks, but Sasha was tight. Besides, he’d never eaten the pussy of a stripper before. On her mortgage modification application, she listed “secretary” as her occupation. It wasn’t revealed until later that to make ends meet, she moonlighted as a dancer under the name of Twizzler at a trendy bar called Dick & Jane’s. The paperwork had already been approved and it was too late to back out. Although she’d admitted to being HIV-negative, Canderick had her fax over the results of her latest test—which was negative.
He wasn’t some new kind of a fool. He was thoroughly acquainted with the fact that, in some cases, “stripper” meant “hooker.” But that wasn’t Sasha’s deal. She was a pretty nice girl who’d wedded a loser. Her husband had been a washout on the police force and a relapsed alcoholic who had gambled away their nest egg on the craps table at the Motor City Casino.
It was Friday, midnight—straight up. Sasha opened the door of her suburban home to Canderick. At the foot of the stairs, just outside the foyer, Canderick removed Sasha’s red silk bathrobe. She was completely naked. The garment hadn’t hit the floor good before Canderick scooped up her soft, naked body into his arms and carried her up the stairs while their tongues loudly sloshed around inside each other’s mouths.
He gently placed Sasha on the earth-tone comforter of a king-sized bed and followed as she ferociously snatched the opening of his button-down shirt so hard that buttons popped everywhere. Canderick was starting to slowly recognize that his power to push modification loans through wasn’t all girlfriend needed. Her need for affection was obvious as she savagely tore at his clothes like a lioness ripping open the belly of a fresh kill.
Canderick rose to his knees, towering over her small frame, and finished removing what was left of a Hugo Boss shirt, exposing a muscular mountain range of chocolate that could rival Hershey in the war for best ingredients.
Canderick was naked from the waist up as he lowered himself down by his powerful arms and passionately kissed her thick and juicy lips while the index finger of his right hand teased her rigid nipples. He broke contact just to take in all her womanly attributes. The heat from the supernova growing hotter beneath Sasha’s damp skin was calling to be extinguished. Using his tongue, Canderick started at the neck and worked his way down her center, leaving a trail of warm saliva to her belly button. He circled and teased until he got the right response.
Canderick removed his tongue from her boiling skin and that’s when he saw it. But he couldn’t properly make an approach until her legs were spread, opening up her airport. The loud, hot aroma of her female pheromones rushed out, triggering activity behind his zipper. Canderick’s dick was pulsating as he zeroed in and made a tongue-landing on her strip. He slowly poked his index finger into her mouth. Her lips closed around his finger as he moved the joint in and out, testing her dick-sucking suction.
Canderick took his time as he lathered Sasha’s runway, letting his tongue glide over her folds until he found her swollen clit. He danced around it, lightly sucking, releasing, and sucking it back in, then teasing with the tip of his ton
gue. Sasha’s body shuddered and Canderick could hear her call on her savior as an orgasm tore through her body.
He licked and sucked until she was begging him to fuck her. Canderick had only been there to eat monkey but he obliged. He stood, stepping out of a pair of black Giorgio Armani slacks, and rolled on an XL Magnum, while enjoying her scent that was trapped inside his mustache.
Canderick’s dick wasn’t even halfway in the pussy when the fucking dogs started barking and growling like they were warning somebody or something not to take another step.
“My pitbulls don’t usually sound like that,” Sasha informed him as she attempted to get up and go to the window.
“You live out in the sticks,” Canderick tried to explain. He was breathing heavily; his dick so hard it could easily win the title of America’s newest brick-breaking sensation. “It’s probably a possum or something. Can we get back to what I’m here for?” Canderick went back to work on Sasha with his XL. As she yelled the name of her savior, the dogs sounded like they were mauling the shit out of something, but one other thing was on Canderick’s mind: Sasha had some pretty nice shit inside her crib.
Monday morning found Canderick at his desk. He’d skipped the board meeting and canceled all his appointments for the day. He kept on thinking about how nice a girl Sasha had turned out to be. It almost pained him to think of what he’d done to her. Sasha had some nice things inside her crib, too—according to the crew that he’d ordered to clean her out, two hours after the lights went out inside her house for the night. They called themselves “Our Gang.” They were a couple of grimy cats that even had the nerve to nickname themselves Spanky and Buckwheat. The two had been breaking into houses for Canderick for two years now. Sasha’s crib was just one of many they’d hit. That was Canderick’s operation. He would push his victims’ mortgage modification paperwork through, eat their pussies, and then steal their asses blind. Hell, Canderick couldn’t figure out his disorders, nor was he trying to at this point. His disorders had come with a built-in excuse to steal. He was a diagnosed kleptomaniac and as far as he was concerned, there was no cure. So inside his mind, the Holy Divine had given him a gift of superiority over women. They had been put on this earth to entertain his pussy-eating pleasures.
Canderick was just confirming a one a.m. Sunday morning pussy-munching reservation with a Samantha Peterson when a man who resembled Richard Roundtree’s character Shaft barged into his office, wearing a black suit and producing a gold badge.
“I’m detective Clifford Bruckheimer,” he announced. “I have a few questions for you, Mr. Mann.”
“Sure, detective,” Canderick said, waving to one of the two chairs in front of his desk. “Have a seat. How might I be of service?”
“I’ll get straight to the point. I’m investigating a series of home invasions.”
“I’m a little confused, detective. What does that have to do with me?”
“The victims all have one thing in common,” he said before dropping the bomb. “They all have mortgage loans with this bank, even the latest victim, one Mrs. Sasha Twissle.”
“Well, Detective, if I can be of any assistance in a possible arrest, please let me know.”
“Mr. Mann, I’ll be in touch.” The detective stood and left.
Canderick made sure the detective was gone before making a cell phone call.