Chapter 11
Stassi checked and rechecked her account for two days. She was terrified to spend even a dime. A threesome was the starting point. What’s he gonna ask me to do next?
She kept anticipating his call, his text; hell, she would take a fucking raven from Winterfell at this point.
She just needed him to lay out his terms. He had offered a hundred thousand.
She had turned it down. So he had sent two.
She had never had that much money at one time and it was intimidating.
She wanted to tell Charlie, but she couldn’t.
Bitch, you’re a prostitute. A high motherfucking paid prostitute but you still hoeing.
The mental conversations she had with herself since receiving the money were a mixture of comedy and judgment. The silence from Day was killing her.
“You know what? Fuck this.” She grabbed her purse and called an Uber. She knew where he was. Sunday morning studio sessions were like church for the popular musician. She needed answers, and she was tired of waiting for them.
The not knowing was worse than the proposition itself. When she entered the building, the receptionist greeted her.
“Welcome to Dynasty Records. Do you have an appointment?”
The girl was beautiful. Petite with a big ass and wide eyes. She resembled Livi a little, and Stassi wondered if Day had hired her. Was she another girl that Day was intimate with? That he had paid?
“I’m here for Day,” she told the receptionist.
“Do you have an appointment?” The girl asked again.
“I don’t need an appointment. Tell him Stassi’s here,” she said.
The girl nodded and retreated, clicking away in red bottom heels as she disappeared to the back.
Within minutes, she came back. “You can go back. Studio B.”
Stassi suddenly lost her nerve. When she pushed open the door, weed smoke choked her, and bass deafened her.
Day sat at the engineer’s booth in an expensive sweatsuit, wearing Timberland boots and a Balenciaga beanie on his head. He nodded at the track playing, face bent in a grimace of satisfaction. He liked the beat.
“Lock the door,” he instructed without looking at her.
Shaky fingers twisted the lock to the right.
“Can you… umm,” Stassi paused and sighed. Why the fuck did this man make her feel like she was in middle school again? She gathered her nerve then continued. “Can you turn the music down?”
Day obliged and then spun his chair her way.
“What up?” He asked.
He asked it so plainly like she wasn’t sitting on two hundred thousand of his dollars.
“Are you like mad at me or something?” She asked.
“Do I got something to be mad at you about?” He asked.
She looked off to the side and then back at him. “What do you want me to do? You sent me all this money. What comes with it?”
“Uncomplicated orgasms,” he responded.
“Will there be pain?” She asked.
He shook his head. “Nah, no pain.” He hit the blunt that was in his hand.
“Will it be public?” She asked. “Nobody can know. Nobody else can be involved. No more threesomes…”
“Is that what that was? Cuz a nigga didn’t partake. That was you and her,” Day teased.
“Nobody else, Day.”
“What I got planned for you is for you,” he replied. “It’s private. I ain’t into humiliating women.”
She nodded.
“When do we start?” Her voice was shaking.
“Now,” he said. “Get in the booth.”
She took off her coat and placed her bag on the couch before stepping inside the recording booth.
“Put on the headphones, then play with that pussy for me, Stassi,” Day said.
“What?” She asked.
“Let me see,” he said.
He pressed record, running a track as Stassi stood like a deer in headlights.
“You need me to talk you through it?” He asked, voice coming through her headphones.
She nodded. She was shaking so badly. His stare felt like a spotlight.
“Sit on the stool,” he instructed.
She did. He reached on the control panel, and suddenly, the lights in the booth went out. Only the glow from the room he sat in cast a shadow over her.
“Now touch it for me,” he said. “I know it’s wet. I saw how wet it can get.”
She gasped, and he turned up the volume on his side. Her gasp filled the room.
“Wet your fingers, Stassi, pull back the hood on that pussy and rub your clit. I’ma know when you feel it cuz…”
“Aghh,” she moaned.
“Yup, just like that,” he coached.
“Day,” she whispered.
The darkness helped lower her inhibitions.
“It’s wet?” He asked.
“So wet,” she moaned.
Stassi had experienced men before but this vibe Day was on, this watching her instead of participating, this enjoying the show, built up anticipation in her like she had never felt.
“Ohhhh.”
Day scoffed. “Call my name when you cum, Stassi. Let me know hear what that sound like. You have no idea how bad I want you.”
“Ohhh,” she panted. She gripped the back of the stool as her face twisted in pleasure. She had masturbated before but never like this. “Oh my god, oh shit.”
“My name, Stassi,” he said.
“Day, wait. Day, I’m…OMG, oooo… Day,” she moaned. “Fuck. Ohhh. What the fuck?” He recorded everything. Every moan, every desperate breath as she came down. “Come here.”
Stassi emerged from the booth and walked over to Day. He pulled her into his lap and lifted her hand, taking her fingers to his mouth. It was the most erotic thing a man had ever done to her before.
“I got to finish up here. You want to hang around?” He asked.
“Just like that, right back to normal,” she said.
“Making you nut every day is my new normal,” he answered. “We ain’t got to linger on it. It ain’t a big deal. So you ain’t got to be nervous or timid with me. You also ain’t got to be afraid to spend that money. The way that pussy taste, it’s worth every dollar.”
She blushed.
“Can I come by later?” He asked.
She nodded. “Yeah.”
“A’ight. I got work to do here, but I’ma pull up.”
Stassi stood and grabbed her things. Before she was out the door. “You’re top-tier, Anastassia.”
“The compliments alone would have gotten you the same shit for free,” she said.
“I pay people their worth. Matter fact, you gave a nigga a discount.” He smirked. “I ain’t gon’ have no focus with you in here, li’l baby. I’ma get with you.”
Charlie heard the beep of the alarm as the front door opened and Demi returned home.
She hated fighting with him. The anxiety that torpedoed through her when she and Demi weren’t speaking made her physically ill.
Nothing went right when they weren’t right, and lately, they had been at odds a lot.
It wasn’t the big things that rattled them.
It was the minor disagreements that seemed to challenge them most.
She met him in the massive foyer, and as soon as he looked at her, Charlie’s heart skipped beats.
He leaned against the front door.
“How’s DJ?” Charlie asked.
“You ain’t said shit since last night. We talking now?” Demi asked.
“Fuck it, we ain’t got to,” Charlie said, turning around. Demi was on her heels before she could even make it down the hallway.
“Nah, keep your attitude,” Charlie said. “I don’t know what you mad for. It wasn’t my kid that fucked up the night.”
Demi cornered her against the way.
“You can push me about a lot of things. Don’t play with me about that.
You’re wrong, Bird. I understand you’re disappointed.
I understand what DJ messed up, but he’s a kid.
He ain’t supposed to know how to express his feelings.
What’s your fucking excuse, Bird? You’re supposed to be the adult.
You lost your shit on my son. You think that shit cool? ”
Charlie’s eyes misted, because of course, she didn’t think it was okay.
“I didn’t mean to yell at him, Demi.” She was crying before she could stop herself.
She had been overly emotional since it had happened.
Not knowing what to say and feeling justified yet wrong at the same time made Charlie a madwoman.
She wanted to whoop DJ’s little ass, but she also understood why he looked at her the way he did.
It was the way everyone looked at her, and if she dug deep enough inside her heart, she would admit that it was the way she looked at herself.
That’s why it stung so badly. “I’m sorry. ”
Every part of him that was mad was hers, so he had no wins against her tears. The fact that he knew Charlie wasn’t like most women, she didn’t rely on tears to gain leverage, so each one that slid down her face was a reflection of real pain.
“Say, man,” Demi said. “What these tears for?”
Charlie shook her head, avoiding his touch as he tried to manipulate her face.
“Stop, Demi.”
“What you mean, stop, Bird? Huh?” He asked, kissing her.
“I’m a mess,” she whispered. “You hate tears and snot.”
“Cuz the shit is trifling,” he said, chuckling. “I love you, though.”
His profession made her cry harder. “You do, don’t you?”
“You fucking know already.”
He removed his shirt and wiped her face with it before tossing it to the floor.
“You’re going to throw that away, aren’t you?” She asked, laughing and crying at the same time.
“Absolutely.” No point in lying.
“You’re insane.” She smiled sadly. “And I’m crazy for signing up for this shit.”
“I don’t doubt none of that,” he said.
He picked her up like she weighed nothing at all and carried her to the bathroom.
Shower sex. Rounds of it. It was an apology in the form of body language.
They never misunderstood one another in this room.
It was the world that dirtied them up. This love they made under these cleansing waters was pure. Even if no one else understood.
They didn’t finish until the water ran cold, then he took her from the shower to the clawfoot tub. She sat on one end of the tub, and he sat on the other, massaging one of her feet as she rested it on his chest.
“I’m so sorry about yelling at DJ. It hurts my feelings that he thinks of me that way. It’s not his fault, though. I promise I’ll do better with him.”