Chapter 10Game of Chance
“Hey, Dre… Sorry I’m late. I totally forgot about the meeting—”
“I bet you did. Wanna tell me about this new chick of yours?”
“Curtis told you,” Marshall stated.
“Yes.”
“She’s mine. My personal business. She has nothing to do with business.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, my friend. This is a girl who’s making you forget about your job.”
“It’s—”
“I really don’t care that you’re late. I just want to make sure you understand what you’re gettin’ into.”
“She’s—she’s important to me.”
“She’d have to be.”
//
“Tell me about her,” Dre prompted.
“Well, you’ve met her,” Marshall started.
“I have? When?”
“At your party. She was Curtis’ date.”
“Wait, you’re dating Curtis’ girl?”
Marshall chuckled. “It’s a long story.”
//
“Damn, that’s crazy!” Dre replied after Marshall had relayed the story to him.
“I know.”
“You better watch yourself with this one,” Dre cautioned.
“I tried. It backfired.”
“Make sure you can trust her, too.”
“Shit, I’m working on having her trust me!”
“I think I like this girl,” Dre said quietly to himself.
//
“Hey, baby,” Marshall whispered in her ear as he settled next to her in his studio.
“Hey. Meeting go okay?”
“Yeah, it went fine. Ready to leave?”
“Definitely,” she sighed and leaned towards him for a kiss.
//
Curtis walked into Marshall’s recording studio only to find it void of Marshall, instead he found Dre sitting at the main switchboard listening to one of the newest beats.
“Damn, what is this? It’s like a mix between porn and hip hop,” Curtis asked.
“It just might be. Seems like our boy may have switched things to record when he was gettin’ busy earlier.”
“Shit! It caught them on tape?”
“Seems that way. How’s it sound?”
“Primal… It sounds great, but—”
“That’s what I thought. We just have to convince Marshall to use it.”
“No fuckin’ way he’ll agree.”
“Hey, we got Hailie on his album, didn’t we? Shit, if that ain’t his personal biz!”
“This is him and his girl fuckin’. It just isn’t his permission, it’s gonna be hers, too! If she says hell no—which I think is what she’s gonna say—Marshall’s not going to use it!”
“We’ll see about that, won’t we? He could call it Superman II, even,” Dre laughed. “Only this time, he’s really into her.”
“Good luck, man,” Curtis chuckled at the idea.
//
“Thanks Curtis,” she smiled and gave him a kiss on the cheek after he’d brought her luggage over. “Hopefully I won’t have to call you again.”
“I hope not, damn. You and Marsh are just drama.”
“But what life is complete without it?” Contessa grinned. “You wanna come in?”
“Nah, I think you and my boy have some makin’ up to do,” he rose his eyebrow.
“Too bad I’m not footloose and fancy free, then maybe we could all make up together,” she said teasingly.
“So, it’s like that, huh? Now you’re taken, and I get the shaft—”
“Oh, please! Sweetheart, you know you just like me for my ass, and you can get plenty of that elsewhere.”
He laughed loudly. “Damn, girl, you are a handful…in more ways than one!”
“Gotta keep people on their toes!” she agreed.
//
“What was all that laughin’ about, huh?” Marshall inquired as he entered the foyer after she’d shut the door.
“Oh, we were just talkin’ about how foolish you’ve been—”
Marshall’s arm shot out and grabbed her by the waist unexpectedly. “Foolish?”
“Yup. What man turns down hot sex for a month before giving in? I mean, really, darling, that was definitely a mistake!”
“As you keep pointing out,” he said thinly.
“I am trying to teach you the error of your ways!” she said confidently.
“Oh, are you? How do you play on doing that, sweetheart?”
“Hmm, a little of this,” she replied and gave him a sultry, fiery kiss.
Their lips touched, tangled, and tormented as their mouths met in a gentle, persuading fusion; they melted into each other, invoked the fading embers of passion into bright, blinding flames. His fingertips dug into the soft skin of her hips, desperately gripping her closer to his raging body while her arms wove around his neck, locking his head within the reach of her caress.
“And a lot of this,” she said with a wicked wink and pressed her palm against his pants’ zipper.
He chuckled, “Yeah?”
“But first, let’s eat.”
“Fuck, you’re a damn tease!” he replied with frustration evident in his voice.
Her laughter mocked his need as she bounded towards the kitchen.
//
“You’re always hungry!” he complained.
“So? I’m not anorexic. I like to eat, damn it.”
“Good, ‘cause I don’t dig sticks.”
“Are you sure that isn’t ‘cause you couldn’t get into Miss Aguilera’s pants?” she ribbed.
“I wouldn’t touch that bitch! I’d rather cut my own dick off!” he growled.
“That’s good to know,” she mused. “Although, I’d be devastated if you cut off—”
Her words were lost in his mouth as he kissed her harshly, effectively stopping the conversation.
//
“You done eatin’ yet?” he whined.
“Patience, Marsh!”
He grunted in response.
//
“That was pretty good. We’ll have to have some of that Chinese takeout again,” she said thoughtfully while licking her fingers.
Marshall bit back a groan.
“What’s for dessert?”
“Me!” he fumed.
“Are you feeling ignored?” she teased. “Just as well. I was thinkin’ about havin’ a little…cream for dessert.”
//
“Oh, god,” Marshall moaned.
Her lips had just wrapped around his length, sucking and torturing him with the talents of her tongue. Contessa took deliberate, planned tastes of his skin—her tongue swept across the underside slowly, savoring the texture and heat emanating from him.
Marshall growled, “You’re killing me!”
She felt his hands tangled in her hair, his nails dragging across her scalp gently. Feeling his need, she allowed him to sink fully within her mouth; he was lost within his hot surroundings—her ministrations were driving him to the very brink of ecstasy and insanity.
“Fuck, Contessa!” he let out a low, guttural sound from deep in his throat as he exploded.
She nearly shook in her own heaven as she tasted his exquisite, smoldering passion.
“Look, there’s a little left,” she pointed out.
Contessa’s eyes opened wide, lifted and made contact with Marshall’s, as her tongue caressed him, darting out to capture the very last drops of his essence.
“Delicious,” she commented and licked her lips.
Chapter 11
Author: zines@aol.com
These stories are for entertainment purposes only. They are completely fictitious, and the authors mean no harm to EMINEM, his family, friends, or anyone else that may have been depicted as a 'real life' character. No money was made on the fiction here, either directly or indirectly, i.e. paid advertising. In other words - it's just a bunch of shit we wrote for fun. Please don't take it seriously.