Game of Chance
Chapter 7
“Why the hell not?” Contessa retorted angrily.
“I paid for your ass to come all the way over here. At least stay a day or two and see the city.”
“Funny, that’s what my friend said.”
“Obviously, she’s the smart one between you two…”
“Watch it!” she teased.
“I’ll take you ‘round to a few places.”
“Fine,” she nodded.
//
Marshall slammed his fists against his desk.
He stood up, grabbed his jacket and car keys, and raced out the door—no man could withstand the taunting and teasing his own mind was inflecting upon him incessantly; there was no sleep to find, no dreams to seek, because everything was always there. It scared the hell out of him, and a large part of him wanted to crawl under the covers and attempt to forget the world—especially her.
The streets were empty, which was fortunate for Detroit citizens, as he dashed between cars at a frantic speed—significantly over the posted limits—and cut anyone in his way off.
He only waited for the traffic signals, but even then his foot was already half-way on the gas before it turned green.
//
“Open the fuck up!” Marshall yelled, pounding on Curtis’ apartment door.
Contessa’s eyes widened, but she recognized the voice and went to open the door; it was late and Curtis had gone to bed, but she couldn’t sleep, so she’d found an old magazine to read.
“Quiet, you’ll wake everyone up! What are you doing here? It’s almost two am…” she scolded as she cracked the door open slightly.
He pushed himself into the apartment, despite her weight leaning against the door.
She sighed and closed the door, fully expecting some sort of lecture or half-assed apology.
“What do you want?” she asked coolly.
“This,” he growled and pressed himself against her—forced her between his body and the hardness of the door.
Marshall’s lips sought hers in a hungry, fiery kiss that ignited the dying embers of passion. His hands were tight, possessive, and firm around her hips. He could feel her resistance: the slight tremor of her body shivering beneath him, the way her lips held tight until his tongue had caressed and coaxed them to accept him.
“I tried to stay away,” he murmured as he broke their intoxicating kiss.
“Why?” she whispered raggedly.
“Because I want you too damn much,” he answered in a shaky breath.
“I don’t believe you!”
He snapped out of his haze, “What?”
“I think you have to show me,” she replied seductively.
//
He sank into her wetness as her legs wrapped around him and urged him deeper.
They sighed simultaneously as Marshall rested there, allowed himself to be enveloped by her heat.
“I’ve missed having you inside,” she murmured absently.
“I couldn’t think of anything else…” he admitted.
//
“Come back to my house with me,” he suggested. “It’s fuckin’ weird to know Curtis is down the hall…”
She giggled. “All right, just let me write him a note.”
Curtis,
Marshall came by last night…and, well, yeah. I’m gonna go over to his place, so that’s where I’m at.
Thank you.
//
“This is your house?” she said in awe.
“Pretty nice, huh?”
“It’s beautiful!” she added as she took in the deep, intense color scheme throughout the house, the thick carpeting beneath her feet, and the artfully decorated rooms.
“It’s late—or early? Shit, I need to be at work in a few hours. Wanna sleep a bit?”
“You brought me over…to sleep?”
“For now,” he teased. “I’ll be home after eleven. Then I’m gonna show you how much I missed you…”
“I can’t wait,” she smiled and kissed him lightly.
//
“Do you have to go?” she said groggily as she felt the enormous bed shift as Marshall moved to stand.
“Yeah, baby, I have to. I promise I’ll be back soon.”
“Hurry.”
“I will. Rest ‘cause you’re gonna need all your energy!”
Her response was muffled as she rolled onto her stomach, and Marshall laughed.
//
“You have food in your house, right?” she asked as she heard him emerge from the bathroom.
He chuckled. “Rummaged around Curtis’ kitchen already?”
“Mmphf, yes.”
“Yeah, I do. Help yourself. Don’t get into too much trouble while I’m gone,” he added and slipped on his pants. “I’ll see you soon,” he whispered and bent down to kiss her forehead.
//
Contessa was awakened suddenly by someone sitting on the bed; by instinct, she realized it wasn’t Marshall.
“Marshall,” the stranger cooed.
“This ain’t Marshall, girlfriend!” Contessa spat and jumped from the bed.
The moment she’d gained her ground, she recognized the stranger: Kim.
“Why are you in my boyfriend’s bed?” Kim asked bitterly.
“Your boyfriend’s bed?”
“Didn’t you know? We’re back together.”
“Can’t say he says anything but my name when we’re together.”
“You little bitch!” Kim yelled and raised her hand to strike the other woman.
Contessa caught her flailing wrist in her hand. “Don’t you fucking touch me. Get out of here.”
“I think I have more right to be here than you. After all, I have a key.”
“I’ll be leaving after I take a shower.”
“You better have your skanky ass out of this house by,” she paused to look at the time, “ten am.”
“Gladly!”
//
Contessa grabbed some paper and a pen she found laying on a desk and scribbled a note before she left the house.
Marshall—
Please tell your GIRLFRIEND that your WHORE has left the premises and YOUR LIFE.
Sincerely,
Your former whore
Chapter 8
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.