Ain't Your Bitch (Interracial Urban Erotica)(181)

Craig was arrested for distribution and trafficking in a class-A controlled substance, among other, lighter charges.

Roy offered to stay-there was a place in the L.A. field office, working  narcotics, and he could get a steady job. Jamelia couldn't imagine him  working narcotics. She told him to stay in Quantico. If he'd worked half  as hard to be in that position as she had to be where she was, she  wasn't going to derail his career for a relationship.

She let out a breath, looked down at the paper in front of her. At  least, if he'd worked half as hard as she had to be where she thought  she was. She closed her eyes a minute, stifled the panic at the thought  of what she was going to do if things turned ugly. She touched the  pistol on the table, to remind herself that she still had it.

She folded it up and put it in the envelope, then looked down at the  plane ticket beside. She had to get going now if she was going to make  it to the airport. The next flight to Virginia was leaving in three  hours, and she still had to tender her resignation.

It was a waste to ruin one person's career so that she could keep  working in L.A., because now all she could think about was what would  happen if she got mixed up in something like this again. It would be a  struggle just walking into the station.

She would, though. Because it was the respectful thing to do, and maybe  Jamelia the bitch could give it a rest for a while. It was going to be a  long plane ride, though, so she was going to keep her options open.





Dating the Billionaire

A Black Maid's Dream Come True



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Forty dollars and eighty three cents and a crystal figurine in the shape  of a butterfly all hide in my apron pockets. Looking around me, I check  to be sure that Mr. Rodin isn't anywhere that he can see me as I pick  up a beautiful aquamarine ring that once belonged to his late wife. I  slip it into my right pocket where it joins the figuring. I feel bad,  for a moment, but desperate times...

My sister's birthday is coming up, and she's going to be 16. I promised  her I'd buy her a video game console, and I never break promises for my  sister. I wasn't always a thief, of course, but when you come from a  poor black family you do what you must.

In fact, before the housing bubble burst, my whole family was well off. I  was in college, in my second year of studying business when the economy  tanked. Nearly everyone in my family was laid off or lost customers or  otherwise lost their source of money. At a time when we most needed  help, we all lost the people who could help us. We were poor, and my  parents could no longer pay for my schooling. Now, I'm forced to be a  maid.

I was extremely lucky when Josef Rodin offered to hire me as a maid. He  used to be a local politician, and when my dad worked in real estate he  sold Josef Rodin his second house. That was a few years ago, and now  Josef is extremely wealthy because of some good investments. When he  found out how much my family was suffering, he found my mother a job as a  secretary at a friend's law firm and invited me to become a maid. He  even promised to pay me fairly.

And I guess he has. Fairly for a maid at least. I work hard, though,  cleaning this million dollar home with its 3 floors, basement and huge  garage. Some days I feel like I should just ask to move in, since I  spend so much time here.

I had hoped to go back to school with this money, finish my degree and  open my own business, but there's no chance of that happening. No, Mr.  Rodin doesn't pay me nearly enough. I can just barely afford my small  apartment, which is within walking distance of this mansion because  there's no chance I could afford a car.

So I pilfer some things here and there. My pawn shop never asks  questions about where I get these things, they just give me the money I  need to pay for such luxuries as food and my electricity bill.

It's not as if I have something against Mr. Rodin. He's just a bit  stingy with money and would never consider giving me a raise. He's never  caught me stealing, and has never indicated that he even notices the  things I've taken. Never has he asked me about the things that have gone  missing.

Because of that, I've become more bold about it. Instead of stealing  forgotten trinkets from the back of his closets, I'm stealing things  left out in the open and with much more value. Still, he says nothing.

Slipping into one of the many bathrooms on the ground floor, I wipe down  the sink and toilet before heading over to the nearby kitchen. Every  time I open the fridge here, I'm surprised by how empty it is. Mr. Rodin  eats out fairly often, though, so it's understandable. Rinsing off a  recently used plate, I put it into the nearly full dishwasher and start  it. My brown eyes dart to the clock on the oven as I raise my arms and  stretch, my right elbow popping. It's barely even 5 PM and I'm already  finished cleaning!

Tightening my pony tail, I tug on a few strands of my long black hair  and make sure my hair is up tight. It wouldn't do to have loose hair  while cleaning. I step into the hallway and walk down the long red  carpet to he library at the very end.

Mr. Rodin is typing away on his computer as I step in.

"Ah, Solange," he says, smiling as he looks up from the screen. He has  high cheekbones and piercing blue eyes. I always wondered why he never  went into acting. He looks a lot like the villain from that recent comic  book movie when you catch him at the right angle. He's tall and  handsome, and always seems to be busy with something intellectual.

Music drifts softly from the sleek white computer on his dark mahogany  desk, a classical piece that he plays often. I look around the room to  be sure it's still clean. This is the first room I lean while Mr. Rodin  eats his breakfast so that I'm not in his way while he works. Still, it  always smells a bit dusty from the old books lining the walls and  sitting haphazardly on tables around the room.

"I believe I'm done for the day, Mr. Rodin," I reply, bowing my head and  stepping my leg back for a curtsey. It's old fashioned, but I'm used to  it. It's how he prefers to be addressed, and I'm in no position to deny  him that.

"Ah, I see," he replies. "Well, I had something I wanted to discuss with  you, so if you wouldn't mind sitting down?" His hand pats the chair  next to him. The cushion is plump and covered with velvet.

I hesitate for a moment, pressing my hand against the goods in my apron.  They shouldn't be too obvious, so I smile and walk around the chair.  Sitting down, I cross my bare legs in front of me. Another part of the  job: I'm only allowed to wear dresses. It's a bit humiliating, but I do  it. I've actually come to enjoy it, wearing a dress makes me feel a bit  free.         

     



 

"I feel awful even asking you this," he starts, leaning forward and  putting his hand over mine. "But I can't seem to find my gold cufflinks  and the camera I bought two Christmases ago. Would you happen to have  moved them while cleaning, or seen them anywhere?"

I gulp and feel my heart jump. Oh god, I hope he can't hear it pounding  against my chest. Those cufflinks brought in $200 to pay for my  ridiculous electricity bill two months ago, and the camera was worth  $500 when I sold it on Ebay. That bought me some new dresses and shoes  as well as a month's worth of food. My hand is still covered by his, and  I find myself worrying that he might be able to feel my pulse. I smile  and shake my head, pulling my hand back and willing my heart to slow to a  normal pace. "No, sir. I haven't seen anything like that."

He leans back, sticking his bottom lip out a bit. Mr. Rodin looks like a  pouting child as he leans like that, a few errant black hairs dashing  across his forehead. "I see. That's very unfortunate." We both remain  silent for a few minutes, until the awkwardness gets to me while he  continues to pout.

"Ah, well, I have to get to shopping..." I say, starting to stand up.

"Yes, I forgot your sister's birthday. Well, one more thing before you go. Could you take a quick look at this for me?"

He presses his hand against his computer screen, turning it to fae me.  On the screen is 4 photos. It takes me a few moments as I scan them to  realize they're all of me. Black and white photos that look like stills  from a video camera... My eyes widen. Each of the photos show me  stealing something. Did Mr. Rodin install security cameras?!

Mr. Rodin shifts in his seat. "Now, if you had confessed to me, if you  had been honest with me, things would have been much more simple. I  would have fired you and sent you on your way." His voice is deeper now,  like a dog's growl. Dread washes through me. "But since you lied to me,  more drastic measures are called for."

"Mr. Rodin, please! I'm so sorry! Please don't call the police!"

He scoffs at me, crossing his arms and frowning. "I very well should  call the police. But no, I won't do that right away. After all, your dad  is a friend of mine and we wouldn't want him to see these photos, would  we? And I don't want to shame him by sending his eldest daughter to  jail. If you don't want to be put behind bars, you're going to have to  do absolutely everything I tell you to do."