Always Bet On Black Ch. 02

"FUCK!" she shouts, the first clear word out of her mouth since I started fucking her - this is incredible, I think as I continue punishing her big ass. I know Cherise wanted to do it to me too, and I would let her, but she gets antsy too quickly and needs my cock. And when she gets it, I make her my bitch.

I roll her onto her back as I grab her legs, pinning her back so she's totally at my mercy. I'm still balls-deep in her wet, tight pussy, still fucking her without fear or second thought, my body pressing her legs up as her breasts bounce for me.

I get an evil look on my face as I grab her DDDs in my hands. "These are mine too, bitch," I taunt as I slap them rights across the nipple - she squeals and then looks up at me intently. I focus on her gaze as I hold her breasts in my hands.

"Is that all you got?" she taunts.

I slap them again - harder. And again. Bouncing them for my amusement as I punish her magnificent DDD breasts, the ones too big for my hands. Her screams intensify as I slap her around even more, my cock deep inside her as she submits to me in an almost primal need.

Her screams switch to an even more intense mixture of mumbled words and shouts as I can tell I have her completely at my command. In mid-climax, she's all mine, her pleasured cries a message that she's my bitch once again. My perfect, beautiful bitch, letting me do as I please to her.

I switch to punishing her round ass again, her breasts still shaking for me. I slap her ass hard and repeatedly, and all she can manage is a loud scream couples with the occasional repeated "fuck" or "more." She barely even responds when I command, "Make me cum, bitch."

Quickly, though, I feel myself ready to do just that, a load building up and ready to give to my beautiful bitch. I grab hold of her legs and pull her close, continuing to pound away at her as she manages a "don't stop" while I fill her up. My whole body aches with intense pleasure as I finish her off, her exasperated moans dying down as we both slow down, exhausted.

Finally I look down at her, letting her legs down. She's wiped out; I can tell - she can barely manage a grin. The strong, powerful businesswoman, one who's always my match in the bedroom, lays before me, vanquished.

It takes a little more time for Cherise to regain her strength and for me to get cleaned up, but she gets back up, grabs the cognac and a few of the truffles, and slides into bed - inviting me to join her, which I eagerly do. I look her over as I hold her close, nibbling on a truffle as we share the cognac, and picture a beautiful future with the two of us together.

It's not the first time I've pictured Cherise as more than just what she's established herself to be - a friend, a business partner, a hell of a lover - but it's certainly the first time I've been able to paint a realistic picture of us as more than that. I love everything we do together, even if it's usually just business and sex, but the times we have beyond that are special.

After a couple of hours of telling stories and sipping cognac, Cherise closes her eyes as she lays in my arms. "Goodnight, Dave," she says, kissing me. "Sweet dreams." She fades off to sleep quickly, as do I, dreaming of our future together. I don't know what it looks like - certainly a house here in Vegas, a pair of venture capital companies, maybe a beautiful wedding - but I do remember her making me one little promise I intend to cash in on tomorrow morning.

(Las Vegas, Cherise's apartment, Sunday, 10:00 am)

Last night was a hell of a night. I finally wake up - I have a touch of a headache and dry mouth, probably from the cognac - but at least I'm here.

Last night was the first night I actually felt truly happy. Sure, the last year has been amazing - becoming a millionaire, opening a casino, and meeting the woman of my dreams - but last night, I saw a different side of her. Cherise was so used to baring everything to me - her body, her sexual prowess, even her business instincts - but last night, she bared her soul. I got to see the inner Cherise. And I loved it.

So this morning, I get up out of bed and throw on my black briefs, my ass still a bit sore from the spanking Cherise gave me - I can't imagine how much her ass stings from last night. Apparently she got up before me - I'm alone in bed and in her room. Maybe she's surprising me with breakfast - damn; I was looking forward to learning how to make an omelette.

I go to grab my slacks - and something's weird here. The slacks have something in them that wasn't there last night. It's paper, a note of some kind. The first thought I have is my receipt from lunch - must have left it in there. But it's not that.

Befuddled, I take the paper out. It's a handwritten note.

"Dave, sorry to run out on you, but I got called into business about five this morning. By now, I'm on a plane to Houston to straighten out a situation with a jewelry shop. I'll call you if I need anything. Cherise"

I know this is her life - always called away. Then I look down at her recycle bin - looks like last night's Red Bull and vodka isn't the only one she's had. The whole bin is nothing but Red Bull. The poor woman is running on energy drinks.

Well fuck, I think. I know this is her life. But I don't want it to be mine.

(Las Vegas, Dreamscape Casino, Thursday, 10:45 am)

It's a lot noisier around here this week than it was before we opened - that's life in this business, I guess. We're booked up through Labor Day weekend - hell, we're booked through the end of the year - so at the very least, my job boils down to "buy shit." It's a ton of paperwork, but at least it's basic.

I just hope I get some sleep tonight. A couple of rich douchebags booked the suite next to mine and seem to have parties that make our party nights look like polite tea parties by comparison. Well, this is Vegas, and I did choose to live in a high roller suite, so I guess that's life. Maybe I can spend some time looking for a house here soon; it's not like I can't afford it. That's the nice thing about owning ten restaurants - cash coming in and no more damn debt.

At least I got to see the casino open, though - it was beautiful. A ceremony full of VIPs and Vegas showgirls kicked everything off, and within minutes, our tables were packed - from what I hear, nothing has changed in the last 72 hours. I got to watch it from one of our stage areas with some of the other suits. Sadly, one person was missing - the one person who made it all happen. And I've barely heard from her since Saturday.

Cherise and I have exchanged a total of seven text messages and two voicemails since Saturday. I know she's busy, but come on; this is ridiculous. All I know is that she'll be in Houston all week straightening this out with some lawyer.

At least, though, life is good here, as I look around my beautiful office, complete with a plush couch, a basketball hoop, and some of the nicest bookshelves I've ever seen. So at least I can do my work in the most comfortable setting possible and take my lunch breaks in our employee recreation area - which has a damn pool. Beats the hell out of anything else I could have gotten out of college; that's for damn sure.

Suddenly my phone rings - it's not even eleven, but I've been at work for almost five hours - and it's the front desk. Probably taking my order for lunch - I'm feeling that crab cake sandwich from our sports bar. Serve it with the best friend pickles I've ever had and I'm a happy man.

"You have a visitor." Umm, OK. "Some woman who says she knows you from Columbus." Wait-who the hell is visiting me? Well, OK then, I think as I walk out of my comfortable surroundings and into our lobby, wondering who the hell could-

It's Marilyn. It's my fucking ex. And she's here with a big grin on her face. What the hell is she up to?

"Wow, didn't think you would come out," she opens. That makes two of us.

"Look, can we take this somewhere?" I ask - I lead her into a conference room and she takes a seat.

"OK, look," I begin, "I'll make this really easy. You wasted a trip. I hope you got this ticket for free. I'm not coming back home."

Her immediate response is silence. She seems to be thinking - or coming up with something to say back. I don't know. She's gotten a lot harder to read lately.

I continue just staring her down. I want her to be the one to blink first. She does.

"I know," she answers. What? "I know you won't come home, and I know you won't take me back. I get it."

"OK," I respond, puzzled. "So why are you here?"

"I just had to see it for myself," she replies. "You sure did a lot with your newfound freedom. I really kept you from being great." Yeah, no shit. "And I know it doesn't mean anything now, but I'm sorry." Yeah, it really doesn't mean anything. "I shouldn't have cheated on you. And I shouldn't have tried to make you into my dad's minion. You deserve a lot better."

I'm stunned. I honestly don't know how to answer her. "I just wanted to see how you were. Besides," she continues, "my job is terrible. You know that place you worked for a summer?" She means the call center, the same one my mom tried to make me go back to. "I have the day off from there. It's miserable. I have a couple of interviews tomorrow up in Pittsburgh. I'm crossing my fingers."

"Well," I sigh, "I wish you luck in those. I'm sorry your life sucks, but you will figure it out. Are you going home tonight?" She is. "Do you have to get back to the airport?" She does, and she heads for the conference room door to see herself out.

As she does, I look up - and there's another familiar face, looking less familiar. In walks Cherise, dressed in a hastily-put-together business suit. She has her briefcase in one hand and a tall Red Bull in another.

"Well, hi there," I greet her - she smiles and looks over me and my temporary guest. She seems OK but exhausted. "Cherise, I'd like you to meet Marilyn, my ex." I leave off the "cheating bitch" part - she knows.

"It's nice to meet you," she responds to Marilyn, politely shaking her hand, as I introduce Cherise as my business partner. The two talk for a minute as Marilyn sizes up Cherise - Cherise recommends a sandwich place before Marilyn's flight and says she's never been to Pittsburgh. At the very least, the whole thing seems to go pleasantly.

Then Cherise asks, "Just curious, how did you get the ticket out here?"

"Oh," she replies. "Dave's mom bought it. She got a second one for me to give to Dave."

"I'll take that," I answer as Marilyn hands the ticket to me - instantly I rip it in half twice and toss it in the recycling. "Won't be needing it."

"I figured." That makes four wasted tickets my bitch of a mother has bought - not sure why Dad puts up with it, but he does.

"I'll see her out," I say to Cherise, who smiles at me - good to see that vibrant smile back even if it's a little tarnished from exhaustion.

As we exit to the parking area, where Marilyn waits for a taxi, she looks at me - hard. "Business partner? Really?" I give her a strange look. "You really expect me to believe you and that woman aren't sleeping together?" I don't answer her. "I mean, is she your type? Should I have been jealous of every black girl on campus?"

"You know what?" I fire back. "What I do with Cherise is none of your damn business. And I'll thank you to be on your way." And with that, I turn around and walk back inside - a taxi pulls up to get her, and that's that.

Inside, Cherise waits for me with an odd look on her face. "What the hell was that about?" she demands.

"Well, first of all, welcome back to town," I begin. "Also, my mother's a crazy person. But I think we're done with all that."

"Good," she replies. "I have to catch a plane back to Houston. I'll let you know if I need anything." She kisses me on the cheek and heads out. Damn, that was weird.

Fortunately, I manage to get back to work pretty quickly as the staff decides to let me be. I don't know what the hell is up with Cherise, and at this point, I'm not worried about it - wait until she's back in town. And what the hell is up with Marilyn visiting? I wonder if there's another shoe that's about to drop.

I don't know if it confirms my suspicions when my cell rings - but at least it's Dad. At least I can speak freely with him about the weird shit that's been going on - I haven't told him anything about Cherise and I being close, but there's not much to talk about - he knows her name and knows she's my "boss," but he doesn't know we're fucking or that we spent an amazing evening together on Saturday. Hell, he doesn't know she's part of why I got the backbone to dump Marilyn.

So I answer and relax - and with the first words I tense up. It's not Dad. It's Mom using his phone. I'm sure she's been looking through his texts and recent call history too - she's had suspicions before about Dad but nothing confirmed.

"Good, you're not busy," she opens - I'm very busy actually, but whatever. "Are you there with Marilyn?"

"No," I answer somewhat snottily. "She left here on her own."

"Well, can I talk to her?" she demands - evidently the part about 'she's not here' didn't get through.

"You have her number; call her yourself," I shoot back, not even caring that it's downright rude. "She left an hour ago. I don't think she's staying in town anyway, so I wouldn't-"

"You find her and get on that plane now!" she demands.

"No can do," I taunt. "I ripped up the plane ticket when she handed it to me."

"How dare you!" she scolds. "That's four tickets you've wasted since you stormed out of your wedding and into that-"

"No," I counter. "It's four tickets you bought behind Dad's back."

"That's what he gets for going behind MY back!" she screams, histrionically. "He's the one making me do this!"

"Either prove it," I exasperate, "or drop it. Same goes for Marilyn, And anyway, she doesn't want to get back with me either."

"Well, of course she doesn't!" she shouts. "You humiliated her! You need to beg her back! Get to the airport right now, get on your knees, and beg her to take you back!" At this point, I'm somewhere between laughing and pounding my head on the desk - if I weren't so much like Dad, I'd swear I couldn't be related to this crazy person.

I recover enough to get serious for a moment. "I'm not the pathetic college kid I was before. I don't need to beg back the woman who cheated on me."

"Well if you hadn't been too busy with your friends and those stupid classes you just had to have on the side," she continues, "she wouldn't have had to go somewhere else! She needed you and you ignored her!"

"Are you serious?" I scream. "Are you actually blaming me for Marilyn cheating?"

"Yes!" Well, that explains a lot - it's always my fault. No matter what it is, Mom always thinks it's my fault. "And another thing! I don't like this...businesswoman you're hanging out with! Marilyn said you're too close to her, this...Sheniqua or whatever her name is-"

"Her name is Cherise, Mom," I correct, "and she's a venture capitalist."

"I don't care what she calls herself," she fires back. "She's probably some drug lord or something. She's bad news, and I don't want you associating with her. And I certainly don't want you sleeping with her like Marilyn said you were." Well, Marilyn got that right, but Mom doesn't need to know that.

"I'll let that slide if you just agree not to send me any more plane tickets and just let me live my life," I offer, knowing she'll refuse. "Now why don't you come out to Vegas and see me? You'll like it."

"No!" she screams, coupled with an apparent pounding of something. "You're coming home now! Away from that...ghetto trash and back where you belong! I want a grandchild! A white one!"

"Excuse me?" The words off my lips like pure rage.

"And stay away from that Shalondra!" It's Cherise, you idiot. "I taught you better than that. She's black. You're white. It's just wrong!"

"That's it," I interrupt. "I don't want to hear any more of this. I have a job to do, one that makes me more money than you could dream of. I'm not coming back to Ohio. Ever. And I'm not getting back with Marilyn. Ever. Deal with it. And maybe go see a damn psychologist about this racist streak you seem to have. It's not fucking healthy."

"Now you listen to me, David," she rages - ooh, now she's pissed. "You print off another boarding pass and get on that plane or I'm going to make your life miserable. Got it?"

"Go fuck yourself!" I shout - and hang up the phone, seething. In a rage, I turn off my phone and set my office phone to busy. The last thing I need right now is human interaction.

(Las Vegas, Summerlin area, Thursday, 10:00 pm)

At least today's been a little productive - I took the afternoon off to go house-hunting and then sat down to do some purchases at a restaurant. No, it's not one I own, and it's not one I have any interest in buying. Mom called back 27 times and left me over a hundred text messages - in the two hours after I hung up with her. Then she got the message and left me alone. At this point, I don't even care if she's my mother - she needs to back the hell off.

Normally I'd talk to Cherise about this, but she's in Houston and hasn't returned my calls. Figures - the coolest woman alive wants me around until she decides she doesn't. Maybe I just need to move on.

Not back home, though, and certainly not back to the cheating whore. I'm sure I can just set up shop here in this neighborhood - it looks nice and there are a few gorgeous homes - and Cherise probably goes back to Portland and turns over her property to some underling.

There's no one alive like her, though. She's so awesome, she attracts an orbit of awesome, kind of like a star with orbiting planets. But I guess it's time to move on, I think. I don't know.

I guess when I had my heart broken the first time, I did blame myself - I know Mom said it was my fault Marilyn cheated, but there's something not right about her - so I never really processed it when Marilyn cheated the first time. The second time I was here, and Cherise was there. This time? Is it even real?

Then my phone rings. I need an answer. So I check the caller ID - and wouldn't you know it, it's Cherise. So I answer the phone.

"Hey Dave." Somewhat indifferent, her words. I ask how she is - she doesn't sound good - but she just continues, "Listen, I need you out here as soon as possible."

"Umm, what's going on?" I ask - not sure what she could need me for in Houston when my entire business relates to the casino.

"What's going on is that I need you here right now. Get on a plane and get to Houston." What the hell?

"Look," I reply, "I own five percent of this company. I think I deserve an explanation if you need me out there. Is there a bunch of problems with their books? A restaurant you have your eye on? Or are you just antsy and need to see me?"

"Oh fuck, Dave, is that all you think about?" So the sex joke didn't fly over her head. "Not everything is about you fucking me. Maybe I just need you out here as a witness for this whole process."

"That doesn't make sense," I answer. "You could bring in a notary for dirt cheap instead of flying me all the way out there and taking me away from all the requisitions I'm doing-"

"Just do what I say!" she shrills. "I'm your boss, you fucker! When I tell you to do something, I expect it done! Now get your ass on a plane and get the fuck out here, you stupid asshole, or there's hell to pay when I get back!"

The next few seconds are just dead silence. Waiting for one of us to crack, to say something.

I decide it won't be me and wait her out. If this is a battle, I win it - she screams something incoherent into the phone and hangs up. And with that, I pick up and leave, paying my bill, and get in my car. At this point, I regret the fact that I live in a casino Cherise's money bought and paid for. I need to buy a house quickly, damn it.