“Script Money” The Novel

Chapter Eleven

Rubies are Red, and Roses are Black

Her salon had the third largest area in their home, filled with a glass tile steam room and a sauna lined with hemlock wood; the walls and ceilings were covered in silver leaf and illuminated by fiber optic lighting, which felt like this salon was Studio 6. Each of her chairs was custom crafted for style and comfort, and she retreated here whenever she felt, unlike the woman who mirrored Kareem Cashmere. "If his contract sanctions me, I don't give a fuck?" she murmurs.

Imani Thicke went rogue in the salon. Filling it with sounds from Usher's "No Limit" as she sat in her salon chair. Her feet were splayed on an opal footrest, pedicured, and painted an obsidian black she felt dark in. Her legs shined from being massaged; she bent one knee up as she touched herself, rubbing oil into her thighs as her shampoo girl caressed her scalp. "They had to go before it popped up on some YouTube channel. You need to tell Kareem the second he walks in." Byrd says finally, rinsing syrupy black dye from her hair. Perched over Imani's head, she spotted her gazing at the cameras and microphone cords dissipated on the Nero Marquina marble floor. "And the rest of 'em can get yanked out if that's what you want to do." she snaps.

"I know. I just wanted all the ones that skank bitch hid in our room."

Byrd recalls how Imani came home earlier, laughing. "Money, your ass came in here like you had a tip Miss Virginia was under your bed. I'm like; my girl goes in about Kareem. As long as we've been together, I've never seen you so pissed off."

"You should've seen my face when I grabbed her," Imani neck shakes with a guilty scoff. "Oh my god, I felt so bad knowing I could've strangled her. I was mad as hell she had that tape." Imani's nails were now black, her fingers raw and ginger, from coming in two hours ago with an electronic device scanner and searching for any beeps where they slept and played.

"Who's God-given idea was it to buy a metal detector?"

Imani clucks her teeth. "It was mine. Well, the guy in customer service showed me; I asked him what gadget I use if I suspect an informant is in my office?"

Imani noted the angle of Samirah's version of the sex tape, then climbed on Kareem's bureau to pluck a small surveillance camera glued in a studio light, then one in the window sill, along with a shogun microphone inside of a dressing cabinet, and more cords that beeped in the adjacent day room ceiling.

Now the spy gig pooled uselessly on the tile floor like an equine nose and boxy opaque orbs. "What are you trying to do with this tonight? I'm already working time and a half pampering your ass," says Byrd.

"And I love you so much for this Birdie." Imani pouts, crimping damp hair as she stares in the mirror. "Just...give it some Jada Smith, a few waves; besides that, do your thing, boo," Imani says. "I can't stop wondering why the hell Kareem isn't home by now. I'm known for thinking irrationally when I date men, but I feel so fucked up when I can't predict the man I'm supposed to marry. Then when he's out, I wonder if I'm a shitty fiancé because I'm afraid to nag a little."

"Maybe Kareem ain't finished caring for his endeavors," murmurs Byrd.

The manager scoffs at the cousin's optimism in him.

Imani reaches for her phone. The moment she turns it on, "What the hell is this?" There's a clip on Instagram, and Kareem Cashmere's getting tagged nonstop of him bragging about collaborating with Raleigh in some mansion affair filled with almost a dozen women. Women, she noted, were barely naked. "What the fuck is he doing! 'Cromartie producer drops beef between family and court sanctions...Kareem rekindles studio dynasty," grimaces Imani aiming her evidence. "Does this look like a damn peace endeavor?"

"Looks like a kickback to me, Imani, but then again, isn't getting that guy back on y'all team a part of the mission?" Byrd inquires as she begins snipping Imani's hair.

Imani huffs, realizing much of that to be true. "Yeah, that didn't include shooting a Snap diary with many thots. I know Kareem is treating them well to encourage Raleigh's return."

"Is this worse than hearing Kareem kidnap him and scalp his kneecaps until he got what you asked for?" Imani watched her split ends sprinkle in her lap, running out of words to form a less rapacious means to precisely what she asked him to do. She sent Kareem to prey on a sucker for Samirah. "Just... don't outrun your crazy attitude, okay. Learn what he compromised to get your label from the middle of their bullshit," says Byrd.

Minutes go by, and Imani's hair curls as her name echoes.

"Ms. Thicke," They hear Fonda knocking as she comes in. "I came to tell you, Mr. Cashmere just pulled in." the housekeeper says.

"Thank you for your discretion. He'll find me here. And Fonda?"

"Yes?"

"After I get a few things understood with my fiancé, call me Mrs. Cashmere from now on."

Fonda winks with a catty smile. "Certainly, Mrs. Cashmere. And a word of advice, sugar in the streets he survived off principle, show them this family is the life he chose them, you the backbone." Imani exhaled and accepted her motive as the housekeeper left out.

In the distance, Drake's "Controlla" hums as the salon fills with wild berry scents and hair sheen, and Imani is anticipating Kareem's reaction to her rogue hairdo.

He entered the salon in (different clothes) than his video outfit.

Imani lifts her brow without a word as she tips Byrd with a bill from her bra. "Birdie, I'll see you tomorrow for lunch," she says, trapping Kareem's gaze.

Byrd hugs her, then pads past Kareem. "I call it the black rose. It reminds me of just how thorny and beautiful she has to be to play her cards with you," says Byrd smirking as she walks out of the salon.

Kareem continues gagging her as she begins running a bath in their jacuzzi. Stirring all twelve jets, Imani splayed her fingertips and toes, parting her thighs as he took in her panties and the matching bra, curving her back as she keeled seductively. "The black rose... it's sexy, but are you mourning them cameras or charging up for me?" asks Kareem.

"I removed them so we'd enjoy our thing again in private," Imani pushes up from her damp knuckles slowly, pouncing on Kareem as she rims her stiletto-shaped nails through her lacy panties. "But not tonight; how'd you get him to negotiate?" She asks, noting his new clothes as she removes them. He smelled like a fresh scent from an unknown location, but she drank it in because he was home.

"Raleigh's officially one of our producers. I understand we'll need legitimizing soon, but I got them. At least that's what some bullshit collection treaty says." Kareem strokes her hair. "You look beautiful."

She grins at the compliments racing. "Get in." Imani is short and exact. But she's sweet with her touch as she lets him sit in the bath like a King. Imani dips in the jacuzzi with her bra set on like a bikini, straddling Kareem as she finally says back. "A treaty? And this also came with a ticket."

"I had to offer two points to the guy, but to keep it harmless, set me back almost fifty grand," says Kareem, splaying his arms over the ledge.

"To neutralize Raleigh, you had to pretend you gave him credits to prevent a war over Script Money. What happens when he returns to work?" she says, tupping handfuls of water and rubbing his chest.

"I'd work with Raleigh again to protect my relationship with Cromartie, but this means Cromartie owes me some new demands." Kareem shows her the file he retrieved from Raleigh. "And I need to check Samirah about what she did to you." He adds, trying to kiss her, but she catches his chin.

"You alright?" He seems rejected with a rare frown.

Imani grips Kareem's throat with her nails, biting his lobe, neck, and down his chest as she scales his body until he's turned on. He snatches her panties, making her back arch, "Mmhmm." she coos, but suddenly Imani's hand dips into the water and emerges with a Glock .9mm jammed into her man's proverbial rib.

"Whoa, Money, what the fuck are you doing!" Kareem shows her horrified beady eyes.

Imani tightens her jaw, swelling with angst, and says. "I'm not fucking feeling these cheating games Kareem...I swear, I'm not."

"Babe...Money, please put the gun down."

"No! You listen to me. Because I'm not being selfish to you when I say---I'm the only one---the only one terrified of losing something in this marriage."

"Money...I don't want to lose you, and neither does all of our family down there want to hear you kill me in this tub, okay? Come on, babe."

"You're not afraid of shit. I know for a fact, not when it comes to me. You fucked Samirah," Kareem parts his lips to lie, and Imani squeezes his neck. "Shut up; you go out and cheat again, then return home after some quick shower. Do you think just because I ride for you, I'm fucking naive, Kareem?" she digs into his skin with the gun as tears stream down her slender cheek.

He rolls his eyes to his clothes and back to his fiance. "Look, I'm sorry, don't shoot me, alright? I love you, Imani. I'm trying not to act crazy over these hoes, but it's all business with me, baby. I promise I don't feel a way about none of them."

"I should be known for taking your money or setting you up like this, but I become the martyr who helps you build an empire," Imani grabs Kareem's hand and slips it inside her panties. As ever, he knows how to palm her vagina. "I give you all of this to begin your family...I became your guardian when we fell in love, Kareem. Ain't no rolling out, remember?"

He exhales as he studies her shattering before him.

"We are going out together, remember?" Her infantile voice ebbs when she cracks over the promises.

"Together." Kareem nods and pulls Imani's body into him as he holds her. Eventually, she scoffs a cry as the gun sinks into bubbly water with Kareem's hand whisking it from her trembling fingers. "Okay, no more...no more."

Imani wraps her arm around his neck and kisses him, "I'm sorry, but I had to." she begins crying while she rests on his nape.

"I know, Money, it's the law." Kareem pecks her again.

She can feel his chest getting back to a less irregular pattern. The King is just man again. Imani spots Samirah Cromartie on the file nearby and scans it, cutting her glance to the cords on the floor. "A woman targets your queen, then infiltrates your castle to play RECON and threatens to expose us...somehow we protect her company by putting in work. What do you plan to tell her?" asks Imani clinching her thigh gap in his lap.

Kareem's loyalty to Samirah needed to be marred indefinitely.

"I have some issues. I expect to speak with Samirah when I take her this copy. Maybe it's important we bring a few black roses to bless the debt." He bores pale eyes on Imani, knowing she has a steady hand to pull a trigger.

"Samirah could use a reminder of how valuable this family is to me." Imani folded a crease in the file and rose out of the tub.

"Babe, take this with you." Kareem hands her back her dripping gun.

* * * * *

Samirah Cromartie's Fayetteville estate.

Ten minutes later.

Samirah Cromartie held an illuminated tablet as she verified the black Lamborghini waiting outside on her surveillance screen. Kareem Cashmere had buzzed the intercom near her entry gate. It puzzled her because he moved through the radar without concern, and much taste of her anus salivated her excitement in knowing he moved vicariously for her security.

She buzzed him in and strolled downstairs like a timid kitten. Dimming the lights in her great room where a white screen descended before HLN Nightly News went mute. At night, she enjoyed playing neo-eclectic ballads from her Jamaican heritage, much like the Stephen Marley echoing while she slipped a nude sundress on for cordial use. Samirah's thighs were getting moist, and she felt the tingling of their last fuck shooting nerves down her spine as stringy curls grazed her nape. Kareem's slanted lights flared across her front like a flashlight sweeping a forest bed. His Lamborghini was handsome and sleek.

He parked, and she unlocked the door. Ascertain that he'd take a while stalking up the flight of steps that resembled Capitol Hill. Samirah hugged the door, drooling as he got out, etched in all black and taking the steps by storm; soon, he strode into her doorway and grabbed her. "Hey," words disappeared as he grasped her cheeks and kissed her so unexpectedly she melted against her door.

Samirah moaned for a while, pulling his groin into her short body and touching the grip before his crotch. "Baby, take me inside first." she breathes in a satin voice.

"We may never make it." Kareem's tone is thick in addiction. All at once he spun her chest against the door pinning his front to her spine as he began biting her neck and palming her lips as he fingered her. "Wait." Samirah hummed, realizing her body was ragged with impatience and more of Kareem's ravenous bombarding, simply biting her lips as she pressed her palms on the door like a frisk. A hiss eroded as he touched her. Kareem had her wet, and she'd purchase a moon for him. "Come 'ne reckless man. I'm not one of them." she panted, feeling a breeze taking her dress.

The director suddenly bends her gaze left when her body convulses against Kareem's middle finger, gasping as dark thoughts spot an all-black figure padding up her steps like a supernatural guardian coming to watch.

Samirah's hazel eyes adjusted intensely to see a woman.

Imani.

Then her thighs locked. "Kareem, you did this."

"It's impossible to stop him once he gets going," says Imani, who tucks her hands in her forearms. "Kareem's strength is knowing the sensuality of a woman. I understand his slick ass picks up on what makes us bad, and then he likes making you submit, so he's responsible for pleasing you until you come."

Samirah's about-face is terrified and gorged, "Get your hands off of me. You've lost all respect for what we do together. What the hell is she doing here?" scoffed Samirah covering her ass with her dress.

"She expected a personal thank you for saving your business. Plus, we wanted to give you those back." Kareem throws a wink at Imani, clutching a plastic bag filled with video equipment. "We've come to make things even."

Samirah's ribs sink. He knew about her ploy with the sex tape. "Kareem. You knew---I was never serious about showing (anyone) your private life." Samirah explains, turning and adding. "I needed to play my cards to keep Imani from quitting on us."

Imani's strappy black heels etched further inside her cooled place. "How endearing, well my fiancé and I won't quit on each other, much less our jobs. And evidently, Nick Cromartie is somewhere giving out bottles to execs because we saved your lying ass." Samirah's skin tingles when a palm touches her booty. "That's right, all this ass." Imani grunts and bites her lip.

Samirah jerks and catches Imani's hand. "Why is she touching me?"

Once he shrugged, she knew they were teaming her. "And since we've accomplished so much in this little tryst of ours, I think we should attend a kickback of our own," replies Kareem as he steps back and ushers Samirah into her home.

She folds her arms. "No. You are not coming to my house; this is the last time I call you."

"We not asking you." goes Imani, filled with attitude.

Samirah notes them both. Imani had jet black luster to her cropped pixie, in some black leather tights, and matte plum lip color she wore to blend with the corset hugging her bust. Kareem had been intimidating in his black-clad pants and top, like assassins who came to exact vengeance for a broken principle in her home. She studied them, on the verge of trembling, then eventually pattered inside as if her intruders had guns. "Come in."

She led them to a formal living room she had prepared for (Kareem's) company. Dim lights danced like embers on a fire near a lacquered coffee table filled with two wine glasses and a bottle of D'usse. "Looks like I spoiled the perfect occasion for you two tonight." cackles escape Imani, emptying her plastic bag, clanking the loud devices out onto candles and the table's Tabu veneer and satin brass finishes.

"I think this is one of those nights where the three of us could use drinks," says Samirah, although she grimaced, getting extra glasses for additional guests.

Imani raises her plum cheekbones. "Aren't you so kind?"

"I don't know whether you're a snitch bitch or just (his) open book."

Imani's eyes go ablaze. "You'd call me an open book, but you ain't got no clue what kind of centerfold we planned for our lil' bitch. Do she Kareem?"

Kareem washes his hands at a wet bar. Then strolls up to Samirah for his drink. "I want to know, first and foremost, how'd Cromartie be so unforthcoming to where you'd cross (me), Sam? What kind of directorial etiquette made you say I want to play 'Gawker' with me and Money like that?"

Imani sips, adding. "Yeah, 'cause the things we do together are mind-blowing okay."

Samirah scoffs a bubbly laugh. "I can flatter you with reasons," she says, taking up seats in the elegant sitting area. "But the truth is you accepted the peeping Tom. You were barely famous, and you landed two TV deals. All because of my grace. Permitting me to have my crew walk right in and choose whatever part of your life I wanted to snub." She explains, sitting down and using her tablet for the white screen across the room. "Take a look at Sak Life; right now, they'd be pariahs to television had it not been for bathroom scenes, Thronesque couples hooking up in other rooms to make alliances but understand viewers love when they fuck. We blur most of it, but it makes more imaginations take over, making them sexy co-stars on sight."

"That's one thing I'll fuck you up about, breaking the privacy of my family and threatening my first lady. With a gotdamn sex tape!" Kareem snaps.

"That's illegal! We can sue your masochistic ass for what you did, Samirah." Imani blames her for the call she's about to make. "Forget this, babe; I think we need to get some sexual harassment charges pinned on this bitch."

"Money slow your roll, what I told you?" He says, snatching her iPhone before she calls the police. "We don't get the police involved in our business because I'd be the first one they'd shoot. Sit down." Imani thwarts her matte lips flippantly, then sinks into a cushion flanking Kareem.

"I'm sorry for excluding certain eyes in the sky, but I follow a merciless demand where we always bring our A-game in this business. Don't you see, this is TV! I needed to squeeze (her) to keep you." Samirah says, defending her rights, pinned to Kareem Cashmere. "And tonight, I guess you two are here to get compensated for tying a huge chunk of my money."

"Yeah, that huge chunk I saved you can be the light ten percent you tack onto what I make in post-production." He relaxes in his numb scowl, which seems refined without champagne. Samirah notes Imani's temperament in how she rakes Kareem's twisted locks around his ear, showing some busty cleavage beneath the strings in her black corset.

Samirah broke her stare from Imani's powdery gaze.

"You seem less fraternizing than I hoped, Kareem. I assure you your business will expand three times what it is now. But I sense you're holding back on me. Like a driver who caresses the Ferrari's acceleration, they don't want you to get---too excited---before it kicks up to one ninety." gages Samirah edging.

She got up and came out of the dark dining room with a dark Harry Winston duffel bag she had suited for---just Kareem's meeting---but she rolled it on the floor near them both. She was sitting back as they stared in unison.

"Go ahead." Samirah sits again.

Without a word, Kareem unzipped the handcrafted leather and outstretched the block of neatly loaded cash. "There's your light, then you saved me," says Samirah saluting her drink to them and the $1.2 million in the bag.

"Are you satisfied with this?" Imani murmurs to Kareem, cupping his shoulder.

He gives her a nod and tips his glass to Samirah. "In light of what it took me to get Raleigh back...we good."

Next, she spots Imani kissing his neck, her lacquered lips suckling his fleshy spots. "Samirah, when you watched us, what'd you like about how we fucked?" asks Imani.

Samirah looked away from Imani again. "Um, I had my opinions."

"Sam, this ain't exciting if you hold back." Kareem's voice is poisoning.

"Don't be corny bitch." adds Imani.

"What did you like?"

"I thought, you two must have it all figured out. Your games are sexy, an awkward young romance where a spectacle entices you to please each other more." Samirah feels down. "More passion than I ever had."

"Did you feel any passion when you fucked Kareem?"

Samirah gazed at him intently. He was searching for his audible, a ploy in what his fiancée needed clearance for.

Kareem just stared. "It's okay; you don't have to answer." Imani stops enticing him. "You seem to know which one will cut their palms for you," she murmurs in a playful voice like no harm, no foul.

"I felt something." More afraid of what she admitted. But Samirah had begun tingling in her toes and more unafraid to be an open book. She cleared her throat. "I felt he was the perfect man for you, but you let him be---too wild of a man you're about to marry. He protects you but doesn't fear being abandoned by you so much. Kareem's young, and he intrigues me sometimes."

"Did she hit it dead on the head?" Kareem looks over. "I think she did."

"Well, since he makes you horny so much, a day would've come when my fiancé asked me to invite his prey for dinner. I want you to show me what you'd let Kareem do to you." Imani says, crossing her thighs.

"What?" Samirah feigns, but her chest gingers. "She isn't serious, is she?"

Imani replies. "I want to watch---you---this time."

"Oh, God, you two are crazy for real. No. I'm not doing this in front of (your) fiancé." Samirah teems into an accidental laugh. Had Kareem asked her to watch? Hanging onto Samirah's body with beady eyes seemed to lead in packs. "Imani, how could you let him disrespect you in your face like this?"

"Girl, it's only disrespect when I don't get a chance to enjoy it with him," Imani says, then whispers to him delicately without giving in to Samirah. Suddenly, Kareem is up. Almost as if she programmed him to pursue her. He came and loomed over her Samirah melted back in her seat, puzzled, her mouth moistening as she spotted a dark figure taking off his shirt near her. Then his pants.

"What'd she tell you to do to me?" looks up Samirah.

"So you won't think we hid any cameras on you," says Imani, poring.

Samirah realizes this is another one of their kinky facets: watching each other fuck. And it makes her lips swell seeing Kareem's naked waistline. So close to his dick hanging rigidly from his pelvis, his chunky bracelet clinking as he grips himself---and pores over her waiting.

"Come forward," Kareem tells her.

Soon Samirah receives Imani's grace as her tongue finds his tip, feeling Kareem enter her mouth as she grips the test. She adjusts her body to suck in front of Imani, throating him until his meaty flesh makes her body jerk. "Ah, this is what she likes, watching me suck her man's dick." She breathes raggedly, stroking him as saliva pools from her lips. Her writer balls her hair as Samirah slurps inches, then gags on the rest, her hazel gaze tilting into Imani as her mouth expands, warmed in feeling a groan roar from Kareem's gut.

Imani is entranced, much less perplexed. Brushing back her wavy bang with a finger as she watches. "Kareem, take that off. I want to see her body." She commands, then begins raking her stiletto nails along her lacy top and untying its string.

Her arms raise when she feels Kareem tugging at her Miu Miu dress. Samirah wipes and licks her taste from her thumb as he lifts her skirt and drops it elsewhere. Unexpectedly, she gathers the wheel of her sex drive. She pushed him into the couch, squatting between his legs and gripping his base. She yearned to give Kareem Cashmere oral. "She's making me suck this big ass dick like this, my punishment." Turning up and lapping her slippery tongue up and down his pipe, Samirah could taste his semen, healthy and succulent, throating for seconds, then clinching her teeth. "So juicy, I can't help it." She spits on his tip and flicks her tongue in it. The couple aroused her tonight, more than she'd been in months. Samirah surprised herself: falling weak for it.

"Baby, I hear your girl Sam is a sucker for going down too." Imani's voice is sexier minus the competitive bitching, somewhat sensual but more generous, as Samirah fondles his sack and intensifies his pleasure with fellatio. Kareem's eyes belied much of the sparkle dancing around his neck in diamonds, affecting her.

When she looks askance, Samirah notices Imani's top is unlaced, and she's massaging the most rigid tan nipples she has ever seen. Imani became more aroused each moment Samirah sucked her fiancé. Deeply it pushed erotic buttons. Imani whipped her short hair and smirked as if this was handsome and kinky. "So this means I can be the winning team after this." Samirah coos to him.

Kareem doesn't move, lay her down, or adjusts his seating. Instead, he helps her stand, admiring Samirah's deep curvature sinking into her upper thighs, brown silk threads of hair adding sexiness to the woman's pinkish lips, and hips guiding Imani behind her. Kareem slips a hand inside her pussy, making her wet and undated, feeling her thigh rise, spreading. Then he makes her step onto the couch; Samirah feels her juices dripping too much as Kareem wraps her left leg around his shoulder, squeezing her cheeks as he suckles her clitoris and lips completely. "Oh, shit." She convulses, her right hand clinches the ridge of her brass-trimmed couch, her other palming his head as it whines, humming uncontrollably as Kareem licks her softly.

"Make me scream." Samirah looks down.

Imani is up and strolling toward the expensive couch somewhere not far off. She takes off her corset and stands near Samirah. Fancied by a brownish yellow skin tone, unlike her own, how Samirah's stomach hunches over Kareem's head, and her moaning and whimpering as if her orgasm was on the tip of his tongue.

"You know, you're a bad bitch, Samirah," Imani lightly rakes her fingertips down Samirah's spine like the proverbial chalkboard. "--and I used to cry my behind to sleep thinking I should be jealous of you, that I need to throw shade to back you back some. But now I understand; you were preying on my Mr. Perfect, and this fix was all you were begging for." Creases writhe deep between Samirah's brow as Imani's voice surmises her.

"Yes, I was." She pants as something entices her to turn up, swerving her hips harder as Kareem juts his fingers and chin in and out of her dripping center. Samirah begins fondling one of Imani's ample breasts, swiping her tongue over her dry mouth. All at once her body aches as she feels Imani's fingers entering her. "Oh, my god."

"Money, come here." Kareem pauses, and Samirah whines.

Angered, Samirah stared at Imani, pouting as she leaned in and kissed him, sucking his tongue and moaning as she tasted Samirah on his bold pink lips. "Take off those clothes and help me get this girl right." He says as his thumb pulsates against her pink button.

Riding a wave again, "Ah...shiiit!" Samirah screams out as Imani stands. She yearns to touch the athlete's oiled abs. Taking in her peeling off her black tights and stepping out of her heels. "I want Kareem to fuck both of us right here," she mutters as her piercing eyes look for a flaw in Imani's skin and fail.

Imani clambers onto the couch with them; Samirah feels the younger woman more hands-on and rough--fisting kinks of curly hair and snapping her back--to kiss Samirah and mollify any generation gap between the silver lining of different sex drives. She bursts against Imani's plump lips, panting frantically as they begin playing with her sex in unison. Kareem and Imani combined caused her body to gyrate out of control; both women flanked him as he sat erect, and Samirah suddenly couldn't stabilize her balance on the man's face anymore. "Imani, he's making me come," she's panting as she coils her leg onto Kareem's neck, wanting to be frozen into these moments, puckering her anus as the suction destroys her nerves.

Collapsing onto her knees, in his lap again, because Kareem is so erect, it's the first thing she delves back to. Imani is kissing her fiancé with nefarious passion; Samirah whines her throat in circular motions while Imani pulls on his length with her eyes closed; Kareem is meticulous about caressing two of his company's most influential women with care.

Kareem talks again in spurts. "How about you sit down for me." His wanton voice makes Imani straddle him Samirah spits on his dick a final time before guiding her toned hips on top of him, "Where's all this cream coming from?" Samirah makes a noise when she fondles Imani's sex, spilling onto her knuckles seconds before she slides down on him. "May I show her what your moneymaker does?" Kareem voices this as he grips her ribs.

"Yes, Daddy." Imani is suspended in midair and panting, hunching his dick and grinding into her man as she holds his knees; the director hisses as she listens to the strokes pounding into Imani's jiggly flesh, taking time to kiss Kareem and wink at Imani. "Make this little pussy come all fucking bad," Imani says, brushing back her black hair and concentrating on a flushed face. Then she slams into him again and again; out of nowhere, Imani grimaces when Samirah decides to rub her sex button. "Babe, I can't hold it--" Samirah abandoned what to make of her couch---moments into seeing Imani loses give in her hips, jerking and yelling as she gushed into Kareem's lap, flicking her wrist as he slipped out---her desire to keel over and laver her tongue along his shaft was a mystery to Samirah, but she held this lust at high regards.

"Get up here." Imani wants Samirah's lips pressed to hers; in turn, Kareem finally gets to his feet while the two goddesses explore each other's senses on the couch. He brought condoms--for Samirah's needs--slipping one on and joining them again.

"Lay back," he tells Imani. She wears a smirk when she notes Kareem's prepared to fuck the other woman; her body collapses onto her back as her blooming caramel legs spread out on the couch; it's a wonder she's already massaging her sensitive lips again, purring as Samirah crawls up between her thighs. "Put your face in this money bitch." glared Imani as Kareem bent Samirah over on her knees and raised her ass to his stomach.

Her next moments became the submissive slut teamed with cavalier nymphos---Samirah felt Kareem's massive pole knocking out her walls. "Ohh!" she groaned, pouncing into Imani's snatch nearby, nibbling her brown clitoris and pinning her thighs back. What amazed her about Imani was the undeterred slut, teasing her lips so that more milky juice seeped and amused Samirah---she knew her body didn't think like this.

There were rumors about how amazing an ex-con fucked a woman, and Kareem left no complaints. Each pump jarred Samirah; firm pumps buckled her floppy knees; her tooted anus had begun to stretch as he squeezed her cheeks apart; he had her screaming each moment her shoulders bucked forward. "Come 'ne, Kareem!"

Imani brushed the director's damp curls into a fist, craning her neck and chuckling at Samirah's wails, "I'm coming." she yells, the pain like a tropical storm ricocheting through voluptuous muscles in her lower back. Imani drowns her arbored voice with her apex, "Uh-uh. Make her come again." The woman grimaces, and it curses Samirah's sweating skin. Kareem fills the room with groans snapping his pelvis into the director as if her minute orgasm didn't fit his possible description. "Okay, okay, I got her." He mutters.

Her fingers suddenly cause too much friction between Imani and more orgasms as the young squirting woman cradles her neck and twirls her shivering inner thighs, "Fuck, yes..yes." Then words fail Imani as she yanks Samirah out of the way of an explosion. Samirah attacked in ardent places as warm nectar spritzed her cheek, neck, and chin; a greedy slut fell over Samirah as she bit the woman along her thighs and stomach. "Mmhmm." she laps.

However, Kareem overpowered her control to please Imani; his dick took will right from under her as Samirah lost her knees and toppled over Imani; she exchanged winces from him to Imani, then rested her face on Imani's apex. Cries quake through the mansion as she says, "I'm coming, I'm coming, Oh, g-gah." suddenly, the arched woman collapses in a sheen of sweat on her couch.

Imani makes a move on her fiance's condom. Scooting closer to him while a hand strokes him in rhythm, Samirah climbs in the backseat that consists of her laying back and pressing Imani against her damp breasts, like piggybacking. Kareem slid inside Imani while Samirah cradled her, caressing her nipples in circles and clamping her feet around Imani, who liked spreading wide when she began taking her man's piercing strokes. "Tell him you love him." Samirah kisses the woman's clammy temple, brushing back dark hair cropped long over her delicate brow. "Let me hear it."

"I love you, baby," mutters Imani in a wanton voice.

"I love you too." Kareem exchanges a look from Samirah to Imani, leaning over to kiss them both, "I can't believe we did this." ending his lips on his spontaneous fiancé as she wraps him with long dexterous legs.

Samirah rubs his ribs as he begins jerking harder. "Kareem," Imani warns him as Samirah's chest starts vibrating the whole time she holds Imani, suddenly they both gaze at the squirting in unison, their manicured nails moist and flicking together as Imani billows out loud. "Aah!"

Soon Kareem is coming, "I don't want you making a money shot tonight." Imani peers into him with steely moist eyes, and when the seconds come to his eruption, Kareem lets his fiancé clamp down tightly. Samirah gazes at them, kissing as he releases uncontrollably deep inside Imani.

"Dammit, Money." He mutters as he rims out timidly, then collapses.

Moments pass until Kareem can stand. Samirah sprawls on her couch, watching Imani, and he gets dressed. "You can stay the night, take a shower, and we can go a lot harder if you'd like," she says, investing into keeping them longer.

"I think we gave you all the fun you'll need for a lifetime, boo-boo," replies Imani winking at Kareem. "High five." she raises her palm gleefully.

Kareem slaps his teammate in life, grinning. "We are going home to our Jacuzzi and will see you in the morning." He says, reclining on the drained woman's shoulder. "Hey, Sam. Bet you didn't see this happening."

"For the record, no. I understand Imani would cut out your balls if you get (too) wild, but I expected y'all to come botched for money, as you did, but this--" Samirah's laughs were spent on a heady smirk erred by them leaving. "Can you guys come over for dinner tomorrow night?" she pouts.

"We'll let you know." They both said in unison. Samirah grinned, picked up a flute, and sipped as her super writer escorted his fiancé and the money out of the mansion---to think---her showmance with Kareem Cashmere had led to a night like this.

Drive safe, you guys.

* * * * *

The Westin Hotel.

Atlanta, Georgia.

"Hey, I'm here to speak with Poe Peters."

Glendall Turner speaks in a trite voice when he approaches the lobby desk. At the Westin Hotel, the infamous Australian newcomer had been lapping in elegance from Nick's charge card. He'd gotten the story about Raleigh from the production aide girl Shaquea Bryant, cursing the son of a bitch for merging---(his) leverage---with Kareem Cashmere, some video thug he'd eventually get killed in the name of losing Cromartie Studios. They hoped they'd get raided inwardly due to Kareem's street legend background story. As for now, Glendall needed a stem on Poe Peters before she signed a movie contract with Cromartie Productions.

"Peters, you said?" The hotel representative typed, responding to the outwardly straight-jawed, closely trimmed man in a Hermes suit. Inwardly, Glendall had been stressed, unemployed, and dwelling on a hedge fund he'd need to resort to soon.

"Yes, Peters. I'm her head hunter, Greg Furlow, and I came here because Ms. Peters is from Australia."

"Okay, she's our guest. It was Furlow; you said?" the sword-nosed man hangs on.

Glendall only repeated numbers, if necessary. "Right, Furlow. Greg Furlow, you got it. If I didn't introduce myself, she'd walk out in the middle of Midtown and think a Marta bus would take her to New York. I need to make sure she doesn't botch her audition tomorrow; please, could you tell me her room number?"

A suspicious look barely sheds the representative's smile. "I'm sorry, Sir. I understand you were assigned to help Ms. Peters, but I can't give out residential information. Shall I call her for you?" He exchanges looks from Glendall to his suit and back to his computer.

If he called, they'd have to tell her Greg Furlow was from Cromartie. He couldn't even attach his clout to Cromartie Productions. An agent named Royal Crawford had contacted him on behalf of Gizzle Tate this morning, telling him Tate no longer deemed him serviceable. Furthermore, he made falsifying his studio title a sticky detail to leave at the hotel. Finally, he says. "Yes, tell her I'm Greg Furlow at Cromartie Studios."

"Cromartie. You know, I've seen that logo. I think it's the one with the little Black girl taking a picture and sending it to the ocean. I'm sorry, I'm a fan of Sak Life; I see the logo every time it goes off." the thin-looking man spots "Greg Furlow," grimacing and repeats, "Furlow, okay." then he looks down at the line rings.

Glendall takes in the hotel, hoping to spot any white women, preferably very attractive and petite, exuding some outspoken excitement about being an actress from Australia. Frankly, Poe Peters happened to be an aura seeping through his grasp. Finally, the man says, "Sir, I believe she's not answering. Would you like to leave a message?"

"No, not yet, I mean." Glendall takes his phone out and sighs. "Let me call my boss; maybe he's pitching some rumor about his extraordinary period piece their opting for the NAACP film festival. He's probably begging the girl to read it. Hey, do you guys charge extra for international call waiting? Forget it." Glendall strolls off in the distance, glances at the entryways upstairs, and then calls a guy he knows could find anyone. "Hey, Nick, I'm close by; you think Ms. Peters will like Diddy's restaurant? On me. What the hell am I talking about? Of course, they'd never have a rapper's spot in Sydney." Glendall looks askance.

"What're you calling me for, Mr. Turner?" a stoic voice mutters.

"Listen, call down here and tell the guy at the desk, Ms. Poe Peters, don't need legitimizing from the po-po, alright? I need the commission on Cromartie's next superstar, and I'm at the Westin getting tossed around by some secretary who uses his DVR to stare at Samirah's childhood logo."

"Is this how you support my investments? By having your wife cut off my offers and then hunting down women in a hotel." He knew Wayne Harper's time was valuable.

Wayne Harper has been consorted with tales of residing from Dallas, Texas, once the police shootings began marring his cartel affiliations. Harper was a seasoned kingpin, somehow a businessman silently covered in the shell companies---a nightclub, a furniture depot. However, his empire flourished behind his HubExpress storage franchise, bringing him to Atlanta and expanding his drug trade into four major cities. He'd asked Glendall to be his go-between, to invest $20,000,000 inside Cromartie Productions a year ago. When Samirah renovated the studio, Harper was interested in buying up stock. Still, Glendall's ex-fiance sealed with Table Knot Films, and Cromartie's shares went public---because of (him)---but he'd been pegged for skimming by Samirah and forced to discontinue Harper's merger.

"You begin to disrupt my time with some casting trick, and soon someone will show you not all tricks are worth the sweat my brother," says Turner, finally impatient.

Glendall glances back desperately and begins saying to the voice. "Look, trust me, man, I want to help you invest into this shit as much as I need the money to take back Cromartie. All I need is for you to help me pay off this girl. She's your ticket to washing all your (silk shirts) for the big premiere, I swear."

Harper hangs on for him to finish and says dryly. "I want you to be responsible for using this bitch to clean up whatever I tell her to. You understand. I'll have my assistant meet with her if she's truly a star, like you say."

"When?" asks Glendall.

"Don't ever make plans for me, my brother." Then the line hangs up. Glendall riles as seconds follow, then he turns and hears the hotel desk phone ringing in the distance. Mr. Sak Life Binger answers elsewhere.

"You'd like to speak to Ms. Poe Peters...very well." The hotel representative says while Glendall listens on with a sly grin.

He was beaming because his clout still had powerful friends.