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Trick Or Treat,

who’s my sweet?


B.L. Wilson

Trick or Treat,

who’s my sweet?

Brought to you by

Patchwork Bluez Press

Trick or Treat, who’s my sweet?

Copyright 2019 by B. L. Wilson.

All rights reserved.

Smashwords Edition

No part of this e-book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, without permission in writing from the author.

This book is a work of fiction. Any similarity in name, description, or history of characters in this book to actual individuals either living or dead is purely coincidental.

Please respect the rights of the author and do not file share.

Edited by BZ Hercules

My novel is dedicated all those folks who ask these very questions:

What if you thought the only way you could make it in business was to pretend to be somebody else? How far would you go? How much of yourself would you be willing to change to succeed in your chosen field?

Would you change your name to succeed?

Would you change your appearance to succeed?

Would you change your beliefs to succeed?

Would you change your sexual orientation to succeed?

Would you change your gender to succeed?

Where would you draw the line?

Who would you tell about your deception?

It is the heart that makes a man rich.

He is rich according to what he is,

Not according to what he has.

~Henry Ward Beecher~













































Nicky watched his new wife slowly exit the bathroom. From the look of her sexy, sheer, show-everything lingerie she was barely wearing, she’d given their wedding night a great deal of thought. That fact surprised him, since they were compatible to the world outside their bedroom. Inside their bedroom was quite another story. Here he was, pretending to be something he was not. His wife, bless her evil little heart, was pretending to love, honor, and cherish the man he pretended to be. He watched her approach the king-size brass bed, a gentle breeze blowing the sheer gown’s robe behind her full body like the custom-made imported lace wedding train did that she had worn earlier in the day.

Everything they did was a series of negotiations, even the location of the wedding and the honeymoon. They were ensconced in a bridal suite that sat on an island he’d never heard of until his bride-to-be, Delisa Winston, suggested it. Her company owned it. Or was the island part of her family’s astronomical wealth? It was one or the other. He wasn’t certain about her family-owned properties. His wife revealed information on a need-to-know basis. He didn’t need to know and so his new bride wouldn’t tell him. Like high-ranking chess players, they’d watch each other analyzing this slight shift or that bold move without knowing the reason for the move. From the wedding dress that was easily worth two year’s salary for the average worker in one of the Winston family-owned businesses to the wedding and honeymoon, costing well over three years of salary for his best executives, they negotiated everything for this merger.

He imagined it would be the beginning of a marriage full of negotiations and mediations. The engagement and wedding rings were hand-me-downs from her family’s collection of museum quality jewels. They’d disagreed about that too. He wanted to buy special rings for the occasion, but Delisa said no, then suggested they use her family’s heirlooms. He grinned at the thought. Delisa never suggested. She threw out a number then negotiated; then waited and negotiated again; then waited some more, then waited again after making moves behind the scenes, which sometimes bordered on threats implied and acted upon. Delisa fought dirty, almost as dirty he did, he mused.

“You’re smiling. Do you like what you see, Nicky?” Dark as midnight eyes glowing, Delisa Winston-Gates purred as she spoke, parading in front of her husband to allow him to take in her outfit. She deliberately sauntered in front of him. She struck a pose and then opened her sheer robe and invited him to see the wiry hair trimmed in the neat shape of a black heart that matched the short curly hair on her head.

Studying his bride’s sensuous pose, Nicky rubbed his chin. If he had a working dick, it would have risen from half-mast to full-on erection by now. Instead, his nether region throbbed with imagination and anticipation. They both knew she was taunting him, trying to excite the man she thought he was. She wanted to make him hard as the red brick and steel his company was famous for before she climbed into their wedding bed, rolled onto her side away from him, and went to sleep.

She’d done that many times before. That was okay, because they’d agreed this was how their sexual relationship would go forth. She was a fem, a straight-up lesbian who loved women as much as his reputation said he did. This was a marriage of convenience and business for them. Still, tonight, he wanted to show her a night she’d never forget. Yes, there would be a penalty involved, according to their prenuptial agreement, which he’d willingly pay if things went well tonight. “Yes, I do very much like what I see. But you know that already or you wouldn’t be posing half-naked for me,” he remarked, sitting up then settling against the headboard. He adjusted the baggy silk robe over his matching boxers and sleeveless undershirt. He patted the bed next to him. He issued a charming grin then a wink at his new wife.

“Come sit next to me, Dee. I wanna show you something I think you’re gonna love.”

Delisa studied his face before warning him again. “Humph! You’d better not try anything, Nicholas, or I will call off this charade of a marriage quicker than your dick gets hard for me.” She glanced down at his crotch, looking for the persistent bulge. Whatever happened to his dick? It was missing tonight. Or he’d stuffed between his legs. Did she care? She knew one woman’s pussy his dick wasn’t slithering into like a snake tonight.

Nicky, known to the business world as Nicholas Gates, laughed loudly. “O, ye of little faith. You should trust me more, Dee. I’d never intentionally hurt you.”

Alert, suspicious dark eyes studied him again, trying to understand the reason for the humor and excitement she read in his dancing light brown eyes.

Once again, a broad yet tapered hand smoothed a place on the bed next to a muscular thigh and calf resting casually on the bed. “Come on, Dee. Settle down right here next to me. I wanna show you something I’ve been saving for months.”

“This better not be a trick, Nicky,” Delisa warned, strutting over to the bed then pulling the robe around her and tying its ties tightly around her waist to avoid tripping over the long hem. She’d selected the sheer negligee set on a whim. She knew she and Nicky were never going connect in the bedroom. He was straight, while she was not. Yet for some unknowable reason, she couldn’t shake off an odd feeling whenever they were in intimate surroundings like this. Something wasn’t right. She couldn’t explain it or put a name to it. Sandra, her lover of six years, said she was imagining things. She also threatened to sew her lips together, both pairs of them, if she ever caught Delisa deciding to have sex with Nicholas Gates, her future husband. Sandra made her swear an oath not to experiment with Nicky.

She eyed him as she climbed into the bed and settled next to him. He was brown-skinned and attractive, almost handsome, but not in the traditional sense of most Black men. He was muscular, but not bulky like a weightlifter. He was built more like a swimmer or a soccer player than a footballer or b-ball player. At a little under six feet, it made him nearly five inches taller than her. That meant she could wear heels and not tower over him. Even if she was taller than he was, she felt being taller wouldn’t matter to Nicholas Gates. He was very confident in the boardroom. She’d heard rumors about his extraordinary bedroom exploits too. It was probably all bullshit. However, she didn’t believe he could satisfy as many women as often she’d heard.

His nose was interesting-looking. It had a lump midway on the bridge, and it bent slightly to the left as if it had been broken at some prior time but never mended properly. His huge, light brown eyes were kind. She’d seen them turn dark several times too. When he was furious, his eyes reminded her of smoky quartz or tiger’s eye gemstones; beautiful but deadly and hard. His eyelashes were long and any woman would die to own them. Then there were his lips, which were exceptionally full and bow-shaped, giving his nearly hairless face an almost feminine quality. A goatee, and a small horizontal scar in his right eyebrow and another on his chin near the cleft made him look a bit rougher and tougher.

“I’m here. Show me this thing you’ve been saving for months.” She watched him watch her as he started to remove his clothing, untying his robe first. She frowned. “Damn it! You promised no funny business.”

“And I’m keeping my promise to you. Just stay where you are and watch me.” Nicky quickly shrugged off the robe covering him completely. Then he whipped off his undershirt, revealing firm, broad breasts he wouldn’t have to tie down any longer once his secret was out. He scooted out of silk boxers that matched the robe he’d tossed in the corner of the room, revealing silky, nearly straight bush hair. “Well? What do you think?” Nicky asked, rising on knees in front of her with relaxed arms hanging down at his sides. It felt good to reveal his biggest secret.

He studied the sudden paleness of Delisa’s normally healthy brown skin and the stunned look in her expressive dark eyes. Her jaw dropped. For uncountable minutes, she sat staring at him with her mouth gaped open without making a sound other than sucking in huge gulps of air. That was unusual for Delisa. He was worried. Usually, Delisa was busy analyzing and evaluating as she spoke, but not now. Tonight, she just gawked at his changed body and then breathed heavily. Her chest moved up in shaky gasps and then down in the same shaky breaths.

Delisa’s eyes targeted his firm brown breasts tipped with soft chocolate nipples before she lunged at him.

Nicky felt the first hit. Delisa managed to get away with several blows before he could duck or dodge them. One blow smashed into his unprotected mouth. His lip split. A second punch quickly followed the first one. It glanced off his nose and the final blow hit his cheek. Blood leaked onto his chest, probably from his nose or his mouth, but right now, he was too busy grabbing smaller fists and holding them down to prevent future blows and sitting on top of legs kicking out strongly at him.

“I don’t understand. I thought you’d be happy about this. I’m a woman. You’re a woman. We both like women. What’s the problem?” He’d never seen her like this. She’d gone over the edge, acting like a wildcat, kicking out at him and screaming obscenities as she tried to pull her hands away to claw at his face. Even as he tried to avoid Delisa’s hands, she still managed to dig sharp nails across a left breast and his belly, drawing more blood.

“You effing bastard! You’re lower than a diseased snake. You low-down, skank-ass bitch, I should have you killed for this!” She struggled underneath Nicky’s superior strength. Meanwhile, Nicky’s back muscles rippled then grew rigid. Muscular arms bulged, holding the wild woman down. “Quit struggling against me! Let me explain.”

“Fuck you! I hate you! How could you?” Delisa screamed, struggling against Nicky’s heavy weight when she pressed her warm, naked body down against Delisa’s belly, waist, and legs to hold her in place.

“Call your executive board or maybe that personal assistant of yours. You know the one I mean. He has a thick neck and a prison record for assault and battery.”

Nicky sighed when he felt Delisa’s body battling underneath him. “Calm down! Let me explain.”

“How could you trick me like this? For months…almost a year, you… you pretended. I don’t know who or what you are!” Delisa wailed, suddenly relaxing her body. Why fight her husband when he was obviously bigger, stronger, and better at applying physical pressure than she was? Husband? Did she say husband? The tits pressing into her chest to hold her down felt female and so did the silky bush hair rubbing against her thigh. Lies, it was all lies!

For a quick moment, she imagined what would happen if Nicky’s contact with her lady parts continued. Familiar warmth slowly invaded her feet and tickled her toes of all places. She could. She would. She should. She’d do anything to make the feeling stop. She had to think. How could she extricate herself from her husband’s clutches? No, Nicky was her wife. No, Nicky was a fraud. Yes, that was exactly what he was…an effing fraud. Frauds deserved punishment.

She managed to wiggle a leg loose and brought it up quickly between Nicky’s thighs, hitting her husband’s, uh, her wife’s pubic bone with all the strength she could muster. Nicky howled in pain then collapsed on top of Delisa’s chest, grabbing at her injured crotch. In a protective mode and great deal of pain, she covered the area with broad hands as her body lay pressing down on Delisa’s chest. “God, you hurt me!” she gasped in a surprised grunt of tremendous pain. “You are a cold little cunt…a regular ice queen, just like everybody told me you were.”

“Your ass weighs a ton,” Delisa wheezed, struggling to breathe. “Get off me right now.” She wiggled her hands from underneath the inert woman and pushed at her solid shoulders. Nicky’s heavy weight didn’t budge an inch. Soon she’d be gasping for air. She was slowly suffocating from her husband’s weight.

She reached around broad naked shoulders then slipped a hand between their bodies at chest level, guessing where another vulnerable spot could be on her bridegroom, and found it. She grasped a soft nipple between a thumb and forefinger then squeezed and twisted as hard as she could. She felt Nicky’s breast muscles jerk to attention then tighten, fighting against the pain. “Get off me, damn it!” she complained, trying to wiggle her body free from underneath Nicky’s crushing weight.

Delisa pushed and shoved at Nicky’s shoulders then tried to pinch the nipple for a second time, but Nicky was faster. She grabbed both hands, holding them over Delisa’s head as she pressed her wrists into the mattress. “I’ve had enough of your shit tonight.” She stared at Delisa’s sheer outfit, now smeared with blood from her wounds. She watched fearful dark eyes watch her. She sighed loudly and released Delisa’s hands. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Groaning, she eased her injured body slowly into an upright position and climbed off Delisa to slouch upright on the left side of the bed. She looked down at her chest, noticing the scratches across a breast and her belly for the first time. She touched her nose then her lip, and drew back blood at the same time her pubic bone was beginning to protest the weight she was putting on it. She stood upright with a grunt then turned to study the crazy woman she’d just married. Her new bride was gulping in quantities of air while resting her back against the bed’s headboard. “Look what you did to me.”

“Quit your whining! It’s nothing compared to the humiliation and legal issues you’ll cause me with your foolish secret. Physical wounds heal, Nicky, but the shit you pulled…have been pulling…” Delisa paused in thought. “Are we even legally married? Screw the marriage! I want a divorce for irreconcilable differences. You defrauded me by pretending to be a man. Now I discover on our wedding night that you’re really a woman. I’m suing you for fraud!”

Delisa stared at her wounded bridegroom, noting the swollen beginnings of a black right eye and a fat lip. She’d really clipped her good. Blood still dribbled from a nose that looked distinctly off-center, twisting more to the left. That was where her second punch landed. What worried her more were the gashes across Nicky’s magnificently naked chest and how she was holding broad hands protectively over a neatly trimmed bush. Watching her try to bend down and pick up the silk robe lying on the ground but stopping midway because of her aches and pains made Delisa feel a tiny bit guilty for causing the hurt. “I’m calling my doctor to look at you.” She rose from the bed to march over to the cell that was never far away from her fingertips until Nicky’s words stopped her.

“How are you going to explain these to him?” She pointed a thumb up at her breasts and then down at her v-jay-jay. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine by morning.”

“Better look in the mirror, Dude, before you make that promise. Or should I say ‘Dudette.’” Delisa exhaled then placed the phone back on the dresser. She left the bedroom to go into the kitchen of the bridal suite. She opened and closed several cupboards, moving things around in her search. Then she opened cabinet drawers underneath the kitchen sink before she found what she was looking for. She grabbed two plastic baggies and filled them both with ice cubes from the icemaker. She marched back into the bedroom and found it empty. Nicky’s robe was missing as well, but his undershirt and boxers were exactly where he’d left them. No, they were where she’d left them on the bed.

Thinking about Nicky’s instant sex change had her confused. Nicky was a woman and not the man she’d grown fond of talking to like an older brother. The feel of her body was interesting. She looked so powerful. What would it be like to taste and touch her? She grimaced. No, she couldn’t break a promise to Sandra about screwing her own, wife.

She knocked on the bathroom door then decided she wouldn’t wait for Nicky’s invitation before she pushed open the door and stepped inside. She wanted to catch Nicky in a compromising position. Instead, all she saw was a woman’s clumsy attempts at rendering first aid on her wounds, holding a cold washcloth between her legs and another on her right eye.

She stepped in front of Nicky, offering instant relief in the form of two icepacks. “For your eye and this one is for your puss.” She studied Nicky’s face for a moment, noting his goatee was missing. “It was a fake too, huh?” She watched him…her shrug. “You made such an impression as a man that I can’t…” She exhaled, unable to complete or control her thoughts. “I’m going to bed. Don’t wake me when you come back to bed.”

“You think I’m sharing a bed with you after you did this to me? You must be crazier than I am.” She pointed to her face and then pointed lower to include her v-jay-jay. She opened her robe and pointed to still bleeding gashes on her chest and belly. “Let’s not forget these beauty marks.”

“You were smothering me. It was self-defense.”

“Humph, yeah, sure it was. You need a keeper.”

“And you need a conscience and a moral code.”

“I have one. It’s just different than yours.”

Delisa spotted the first aid kit on the counter behind them. “Put some salve on those.”

“No, you made ‘em. You put some ointment on them.” She pointed to the open first aid kit. “It’s in there.” She popped two pain pills then downed them with several gulps of tap water.

“I will not. I’m tired and evil. Do it yourself.”

Nicky handed her the tube of ointment. “Just do it. It’ll take two minutes.” She’d left her robe untied and open. She watched Delisa squeeze out a small amount of oily substance on her fingertips then reach up to apply it gently on her left tit. Even using a light touch, Nicky still gasped then bit into her damaged lip as her wife rubbed ointment into her sore breast wound. “Damn, that hurts,” she muttered. Her nipples didn’t seem to care about the pain in her breast. They hardened into tiny pebbles as if Delisa was touching them too. When Delisa squeezed more ointment unto the same finger, Nicky’s nipples grew even harder in anticipation, acting as though they’d be the main topic of the night.

Delisa pushed Nicky’s robe open further to rub more cream on the nail scratches partly covering her belly. She smiled, feeling stomach muscles jump to attention under her fingertips. She loved the quivering muscles totally under her control. She massaged parts of Nicky’s stomach that weren’t wounded. She continued to play. Interestingly, Nicky continued to allow it.

Something Delisa did should feel good tonight, Nicky mused.

Delisa put down the ointment on the bathroom’s countertop to use both hands to stroke Nicky’s belly. She slowly reached around Nicky’s naked waist and belly to knead muscular hips. She ran exploring fingers up and down the split of her husband’s backside, feeling muscles twitch underneath her palms. Moving closer, she leaned up to grasp a hard, undamaged nipple with tender teeth, nibbling and applying just the right pressure to make Nicky tremble with anticipation. She heard Nicky groaning softly, then she felt Nicky quickly pulling her away from the nipple to kiss her deeply with plenty of tongue. The lengthy kiss left her body tingling and her clit moist.

Suddenly, Delisa felt as though she was floating in midair. It took her a moment to realize Nicky had scooped her up and carried her to the bed as though she weighed no more than a toddler did. Somewhere between applying ointment and touching Nicky’s body in a non-medical way, she’d been stripped of her sheer, blood-smeared wedding lingerie. Back arching into another quick climax, she was sitting on top of Nicky’s firm body. “Dear God, Nicky! Here comes the heat…so much heat.” She screamed as it set her aflame and turned her into ashes. “I’m coming again,” she remarked, announcing the obvious.

“I know you are, Sweetness, so just let go. Let your juices flow. I’m here to catch you.” The deep, rumbling voice encouraged Delisa again and then again until she simply collapsed against a sturdy but wounded chest. A strong heartbeat lulled her to sleep like a child’s lullaby. She sighed when soft lips kissed her naked shoulder while broad hands rubbed up and then down her back. Those same educated hands moved on to caress her hips and she snuggled into a solid chest and fell asleep. “I didn’t think we’d be doing this tonight, Sweetness, but I’m glad we are,” Nicky whispered softly before she too fell asleep, holding her new wife in her arms.

Hours later, something cold…ice cold woke her. Without opening her eyes, she tried to brush at the coldness between her legs and touched something or someone’s soft smooth skin. “Does it still hurt?” a low, soft voice inquired. She frowned as she tried to formulate an answer in her drowsy, half-conscious brain. What? Something was happening to her v-jay-jay. It felt good and warm. She dreamed a woman’s tongue played with her clit. Her dream woman lightly licked and sucked its full length then drove her completely crazy with the soft, moist feel as the floating tongue rested on her clit and did not move. She frowned in her sleep. No woman ever just rested her tongue on her clit or drilled deep within her slit without moving.

Moisture and hotness. That was what she dreamed of before she couldn’t do anything but reach a stuttering climax deep inside her womb. She sighed and continued to sleep. Her dreams were sensual tonight. Another dream roared into her mind, but in this one, her v-jay-jay was full of fingers and tongues while lips suckled her nipple and fingers pinched it. How could one woman could do all those things? She dreamed she asked but received no answer. Once again, she reached a shattering climax that left her tired but feeling warm. Is this love? she asked but received no answer.

The next time Nicky stirred, the smell of a fragrant perfume invaded her senses while a weight—not heavy and not unpleasant—seemed to be resting on her. She grunted when warm hands applied ointment to her left breast and down her belly. She kept her eyes closed when the hands drifted across to her right breast, cupping it and kissing it, and soft lips lingered against her nipple until it grew harder. “I’m fascinated with your body’s reaction to me,” a soft voice murmured. “Even when you sleep, these two nipples get hard for me.”

Instead of answering her new bride, Nicky just sighed and let the erotic exploration of her body continue. “Did you know your belly quivers and trembles with just a touch from me?” Delisa didn’t wait for an answer. She decided to demonstrate, running light fingertips across healthy skin then giggling like a child at the resultant rigidity and trembling abs flexing and releasing. “See what I mean? And you taste like chocolate candy.”

Her weight shifted. She pushed solid legs apart then moved between them, kissing and munching on tender inner thigh skin. She stopped to blow warm breath against both thighs, drying the skin she’d just dampened with her kisses. “Open your eyes and see me, Nicholas Winston-Gates,” Delisa commanded, watching drowsy golden brown eyes filled with passion open to study her. They widened when they took in the clothes she was wearing, casual open-toed sandals, Capri blue jeans that fit like a glove, a vivid red scooped-neck T-shirt that showed off a great deal of cleavage.

“Are we going somewhere today?” Nicky’s voice sounded gravelly to her own ears. She reached out to run warm hands up and down Delisa’s naked arms, watching goose bumps appear along the pathways she left. She longed to be with Delisa today, the day after their fraudulent wedding. She watched her wife shake her head.

“No, we aren’t going anywhere. I, however, am going shopping with Sandra. While you are resting up and healing from the wounds that I gave you last night,” she muttered, looking down at the deep, ugly scratches across her wife’s belly and left tit. She felt even more guilt this morning when she gazed down at the marvelous body that she’d marred in anger last night. Her eyes moved up to the black eye and the swollen nose, both of which didn’t bother her as much as the gashes left by her fingernails. What if her actions left scars on Nicky’s splendid body?

“Nope, Mrs. Winston-Gates, I’m going with you. I’ll be ready in five minutes. I’ll just put on my outfit. Two minutes, I’ll be dressed before you can call Sandra and tell her you’ll take a rain check.” Wary dark eyes belonging to her bride studied her. For nearly a minute, Delisa didn’t blink or make a comment. Nicky should be used to the stare. Instead, it always unnerved her. “What now?”

“You don’t trust me with her, do you, especially now that…you’re...” Delisa frowned then continued. “The same as me, as you so indelicately put it last night.”

“I’m your husband. I mean, I’m your wife. This is our honeymoon. You can’t just go hang out with another woman and possibly fuck her too, Dee. Wives, new brides aren’t supposed to do that during the honeymoon. After the first year, then it might not look so bad, but right now, it’s no go.”

“Humph! Before last night’s revelations, you agreed that I could slip off to see Sandra anytime I wanted. I gave you the freedom to do the same.” Delisa leaned over Nicky to poke her left breast with a hard finger. “Don’t think I don’t know about your plans to visit what’s-her-name, the sex maniac.” She watched a grimace of pain appear on Nicky’s face. She realized she was causing it and stopped poking at her wife’s wounds to soothe the throbbing breast with another application of ointment, which led to several last-minute phone calls to cancel dates with Sandra and the sex maniac named Brandi.

Forty minutes later, Delisa was still straddling Nicky’s waist. Her nude body glistened with the perspiration from at least one mutual climax and two multiple orgasms. She ran a light fingertip across sensitive belly muscles, giggling when they quivered under her touch. “I never knew my touch could do this. If I’d only known about your body’s reaction to me earlier, we could have been…” She watched Nicky’s eyes close when she leaned over to nibble on a perky right nipple.

“Woman, you’re tiring me out with your explorations.” Nicky groaned, feeling tender lips surrounding her nipple and then tugging on it gently until it grew diamond hard. A spark of electrical current was shooting from her nipple straight to her clit. She frowned then grunted as heated waves of excitement washed over her. “Oh Lordy. What you do to me. It makes me want to…” she growled.

“Come for me, Nicky.”

Delisa had wrapped her legs around Nicky so she could feel every one of her muscle contractions…rigid then relaxed…rigid and relaxed until finally rigid won out. A clever hand reached backward to finger a blast furnace that could melt steel. One, then two more strong contractions as Delisa’s two fingers sank in deeper. Fluid gushed out, coating her hand. “That’s it, Baby. Cover my fingers. Drench them with your chocolate nectar.”

Nicky heard Delisa crooning as she encouraged her to release more fluids than she thought was possible. She’d already climaxed five times in a row, a feat she’d never done with any other woman. Her wife…Delisa had a sensual hold on her that was unbelievable.


Andrew Harrison rolled over in his king-size bed, groaning when his cell chirped. He reached across the blanket-covered figure sleeping naked on his side of the bed. How did they end up in this position? he wondered. He snatched the phone before it could wake up his bed partner, then he sat up and slid over to edge of the bed, whispering into the phone. He hunched the cellphone between his shoulder and his chin.



“It’s me.”

“No shit, Sherlock! Dude, why are you calling me? It’s your honeymoon.” Drew sucked in a heavy breath when he heard Nicky’s quiet breathing. “You freaking told her, didn’t you? After I told you to keep playing the bitch, you still told her anyway, huh?”

Nicky eyed the bedroom door of their island getaway and then her wristwatch. Delisa had gone shopping, or so her note said. That was hours ago. She frowned at the time. Christ, how long did it take one woman to shop on her honeymoon? “I didn’t exactly tell her, Drew.”

Searching for a pair of briefs under the bed but trying not to wake his bed buddy, Drew reached a long arm underneath the bed, feeling around. “Shit, I know I took them off. Where the hell did I throw ‘em?” He knelt on one knee. An old football injury kept him from using both knees. “What did you mean you didn’t exactly tell her? Either you did or you didn’t,” he hissed, keeping an eye on the still figure snoring softly on his side of the bed. If he had any balls, he’d give his sleeping buddy a hard shove until he had his favorite side of the bed back. He grinned from a very recent vivid memory. Actually, he had balls and a big delicious stick last night. The owner of the fabulous equipment was fast asleep after a job well done. Damn it. If his mind kept focusing on last night’s activities, he’d start a new chapter as soon as he hung up.

Nicky cleared her throat after noting her best friend was hissing and whispering. “You aren’t alone, are you?”

“I could say the same thing about you, Babe. After all, this is your honeymoon, right?” He eyed the sleeping lump in his bed. “Tell old Drew all about it.”

“Are you sure? I mean, if you have guests, I can call back later.”

“Babe, or should I say, Babette, what was her reaction when she found out?”

Nicky sighed. “She hit me, Drew. I’m bigger and taller, but she punched me. What I said drove her bonkers. She hauled off and slugged the shit out of me, clawed my left tit, then kneed me in the nuts.”

“I told you she was a rough number…a cool queen blizzard with concrete balls.” Drew sighed, wondering if his friend needed medical help after her wedding night’s revelations. “Are you okay? Want me to get my doctor to fly out there to examine you?”

“No.” Nicky played with the split in her chin with a finger and then she rubbed it with a thumb and forefinger. “Dee put ointment on my wounds and gave me an icepack for my nuts.” She snorted. “I mean, if I had any. Christ, she kneed me in the groin. It felt like I slammed down hard against the crossbar on a men’s bike. That happened to me once and I never forgot that damned bar was there again. I also never rode another boy’s bike either.”

Drew winced. Just imagining the pain made him shiver. He’d swear his dick shrank and hid behind his balls. “Hey, just be glad your nuts and dick are made of rubber.” He sat down on the bed to look down at his very real reddish-pink limp dick and balls covered with dark hair. “I think my dick just shrank up a foot with that story.”

“Yeah, well, Drew, just be happy it was me and not you getting the shit kicked out of you.”

“So where is Mike Tyson today? Or did she take the next plane out?” Drew paused to think and then asked, “What the hell is the name of that island with a condo on it? Or is it a condo with an island in it?”

“That’s not important. Anyway, she actually went shopping or so her note says.” Nicky issued a regretful sigh. After that last bout of lovemaking, she thought she’d convinced Delisa to stay with her for the entire honeymoon. Dee seemed to enjoy being in bed with her, didn’t she? Dee seemed extremely sated, even calling Sandra to cancel their shopping date. Yet Dee was gone when she awoke. “I think she’s sneaking around to meet Sandra to screw her brains out.”

“You sound disappointed, Nicky. I thought Brandi was flying out there to meet you. Then you and the Ice Queen could each get a little something-something on the side during the honeymoon.”

“I called her and cancelled after we…uh, we...” Nicky cleared her throat and stopped talking, not so certain how much she wanted to reveal to her best friend.

“Don’t be an asshole, Nicky. Tell me what you started to say.”

“You’re gonna think I lost my mind…again.”

“I already think that, so it’s nothing new.”

“After she, uh…helped me clean myself up. We sort of…” When Nicky’s voice dropped lower, Drew struggled to hear her make excuses. “It was our honeymoon, Drew. She wore this 3D, pure eye-candy lingerie.” Nicky scratched her head. “It was a sheer gauzy thingy that showed off her…uh...” Her mind flipped back to last night and the woman with just enough gorgeous tits and sweet ass as well as the right mindset to keep her interested. “Jesus, sweet Jesus, Drew, I think I could fall for the Ice Queen. She’s so…dirty, I mean, adventurous in bed. I woke up after we…well, you know what I’m trying to say. This time, she was gone. All I could think about was figuring out where she’d go on this island then trying to find her for round two.”

“Why call me, Nicky? Go find the bitch queen and fuck her to your heart’s content. You don’t need my permission to do that. Just like you didn’t need it to tell her what was what last night.”

Nicky wanted to scream. I’m sorry, Drew, but you had to be there. I couldn’t stop myself. She didn’t stop either. Instead, she sighed deeply then continued in a low-pitched timbre. “I was hoping you’d remind me again why we should establish separate lives. Why my wife and Sandra should do their thing? Why I should stay free to have an affair with Brandi or whoever?”

Drew exhaled as his glance lingered on the sleeping form that had turned over onto his back with a loud snort. He licked dry lips then moaned softly as his dream grew more intense. Drew quickly grabbed a robe from the back of the bedroom door. He needed to get out of the bedroom before the inevitable nocturnal erections and emissions happened. He grinned as he slipped into his old ratty but comfortable flannel robe. He’d be back to help his bed buddy deal with them a bit later. He strode down the hallway of his two-bedroom condominium with the cellphone pressed to his ear and his robe flapping behind him. “Okay, Nicky. You want help. Let’s start with these questions. Can you even trust the woman you married?”

“Christ, Drew, I married her. I think I can trust her.”

“No, Nicholas Gates, Black millionaire owner of a steel mill that makes super alloys, steel and zirconium-tungsten, married Delisa Winston, daughter of deceased African-American mega millionaire Kenneth Winston, who made his money in telecommunications. The daughter decided to expand her world into manufacturing and thus the merger of communication and manufacturing. You see, Nicolette Gates, you did not marry Delisa Winston. Your alter-ego, Nicholas Gates, did the marrying.”

“Screw you, Drew. I’m tired of keeping this secret. I’m a woman and a lesbian, just as she is. I feel I could and can trust her. Anyway, a wife can’t testify against her husband.”

“I wonder how that holds up legally when said fraudulent husband turns out to be a wife.”

Nicky exhaled then ran her hands through short, neat dreadlocks, rubbing until her locks stood on end. “Oh God, Drew, what did I do?”

“You let the sex get into your head. If you had a penis, I’d say your little head did the thinking for your big head. Among us men, it’s a natural occurrence. Looks like you lesbians do the same thing. I guess in your case, her lady-parts were doing an excellent job of speaking to your lady-parts, huh?”

An image of Dee’s long coppery brown legs wrapped around her waist, chocolate nipples turned into hard knots of steel dangling in front of her mouth as they howled into another sweaty climax, popped into her sex-starved brain. “Yeah, oh God, yes, Drew. I never felt like that before. I mean, it was incredible. We…” She stopped speaking. “TMI, right?”

Drew chuckled. He was thinking the same thing his best friend expressed. “Oh yeah, that’s TMI in a big way!” He also thought he’d never heard Nicky speak so emotionally about another human being. He’d met Delisa Winston. Unless she was a witch woman or a shape shifter, there was no way the cold-hearted ice queen could be the same woman his best friend would entrust with a secret he’d held on to for many, many years. Yet here they were formulating emergency plans for just such an event. He sighed. The formulating was all on his end. He wasn’t sure what his best friend was doing. He’d better ask, hadn’t he? “You realize she has a lot to lose if this gets out, Nicky.”

Nicky frowned. “What are you trying to say, Drew? I trust her. Why would she tell anybody?”

Drew exhaled. OMG, did Nicky forget the woman couldn’t stand her when she was pretending to be a man? What did she think the evil Sandra would do when she discovered she was a woman who liked women? Add that Nicky had bopped Delisa, her lover of six years. “Nicky, didn’t you just say Dee left a note that said she was going shopping?”

“Yeah, so what, Drew? She left me here to heal up for round two.”

“Option number two, Delisa left you there in the hotel stuck on an island her family owns so she could go screw Sandra.”

“No, I told you, Drew. I heard her call Sandra to cancel that shit. She listened while I canceled my booty call with Brandi too,” Nicky remarked with a confidence she didn’t feel.

“Six years is a lot of time to throw away for one night of passion, Nicky. Do you think your wife would do that for you?”

“God, I hope so, Drew.” Nicky grimaced when she touched her swollen right eyebrow then ran a hand across her chest. “Shit, that hurts!” She sat carefully down on the bed, emitting a low moan when her crotch touched the bed. “Oh Jesus, it hurts! Stick a fork in me. I’m done.”

Drew frowned when he heard her yelp of pain. “What’s going with you, Nicolette? Are you sure that you don’t need a doctor? I could send mine wherever you are.”

“No, no, I’ll be fine.” Nicky struggled to move around. She’d decided to walk, or rather, limp back to the bedroom. The pain pills were wearing off. She needed to take more pills. She needed more ice on her aching puss bone. How was it possible when Dee fucked her, nothing hurt? Yet now, with nobody touching her, everything ached and throbbed. Her puss ached. Her face throbbed. Her nasal passages were congested. Her left breast and her belly joined the rest of her injuries and began to send waves of pain her way.

Drew exhaled then eyed the bedroom door. Thank the Lord his friend with benefits was a sound sleeper. He hated to say what he was thinking, but it needed saying. “Nicky, don’t take this the wrong way, but you should start thinking about exit strategies and protecting your assets against lawsuits.”

“And I’m telling you that I’m in love with my wife. I hope like hell she’s in love with me, Drew.”

“You realize she could wipe out all you and I worked for over ten years. With a flick of her pen, she could send us to the assembly line, the unemployment line, or prison.” Drew rubbed a hand against the bristle on his chin. “I’m not sure I like somebody as evil as we know she can be in charge of my welfare, Nicolette.”

Nicky frowned at what she was hearing from her best friend. What did Drew mean by that? She rose gingerly from the bed to stand upright as she gripped the cordless phone tightly in her hand. She stifled a loud groan that ended in a low whimper she tried not to make. “Drew, I gotta get more ice for my…injuries. And pain pills too. I’ll call you later.”

“Yeah sure, you do that, Nicky. Think about what I said about exiting and...” He heard the phone click before he could finish his sentence. He frowned at the dead line in his hand. “Goddamn it! Don’t do this. I know what I’m talking about, okay?” He ranted and raved another minute then sighed and went to find his houseguest.

Nicky limped into the kitchen, gently covering her mound with a broad protective hand. It seemed to reduce the pain if she iced it. She sighed. This wasn’t how she planned to spend her honeymoon with Delisa. She planned to spend it with Brandi, the try-anything-once woman. She knew Delisa had arranged to spend quality time with Sandra, who’d hidden away on the island too. When she reached the sunny yellow kitchen, she leaned her forehead against the coolness of the refrigerator’s freezer. It felt good against the fever in her swollen eyebrow and nose. Her eyes darted around the room, making sure she was alone before she gave the edge of the refrigerator a bear hug. She rested her aching hot belly against the refrigerator while her left breast fit comfortably against the freezer. Eventually, she dumped ice cubes into a baggie then limped back to the bedroom with the icepack pressed against her pubic bone and went back to sleep.

The first stanzas of the Isley Brothers’ “Between the Sheets” woke Delisa and she looked around the bedroom with a frown. Where is my phone? She lifted the bed linen to search for it. Her husband was naked…no, Nicholas Winston-Gates wasn’t her husband. The tall, well-formed woman she was admiring underneath the covers was her wife. She held up the covers, peeking at her new wife’s sturdy chest rising and lowering. The marvelous muscles across her wife’s belly relaxed and then contracted with every breath. Her eyes travelled downward, studying the neatly trimmed red-brown bush hair nearly hidden behind protective broad hands. She smiled, remembering the chocolate taste of Nicky’s puss. She’d crawled between two lean but muscular thighs to taste her puss. Now she wondered what it might be like to ride on one thigh like a cowgirl, rubbing up and down until she exploded. She nearly reached out to touch her wife’s sleeping form again. She liked the idea that Nicky’s body reacted to her touch whether she was awake or asleep.

Her cellphone played the Isley Brothers again and disturbed the direction her mind was heading. She’d better find that phone before Sandra grew pissed and decided to show up on their doorstep, demanding equal time. Equal time? I slept with my own husband, I mean, my wife several times in the last twenty-four hours. It was so good, I’m thinking about doing it again. I cheated on my girlfriend of six years with my new husband and I want to cheat on her again?

She let the covers drop back onto the sleeping woman while she considered her last thought. Between the sheets, a song played again, the music coming from underneath the covers near her new wife. She sighed, closed her eyes, and thrust a hand under the covers near her wife’s hipbone. She couldn’t resist caressing a muscular thigh, which led to finding her phone underneath its warmth. She heard a soft moan and turned toward Nicky’s face to see if she was awake yet. She noted Nicky continued sleeping peacefully. She suddenly realized she’d uttered the sounds when she felt the warm muscles under her palm tremble slightly from her touch. That wasn’t supposed to happen. None of last twenty-four hours was supposed to happen the way it did.

She grabbed the phone then rushed into the next bedroom away from temptation. She locked the door then leaned against it to catch her breath. She glanced at her phone’s screen and grimaced. God, Sandra called four times since she’d cancelled their date. She was ready to punch in her number, when the phone rang again.


“It’s about time you decided to answer your freaking phone, Dee! I thought we agreed you’d call me back in fifteen minutes. It’s been three goddamned hours, Dee! I repeat, three goddamned hours!” Sandra roared into the phone. “What the hell were you doing for three hours, Delisa? I swear to God, if you let him fuck you… we are through!”

Delisa exhaled then counted to ten before she spoke to her lover. “Calm down, Sandra, and stop yelling at me.”

“I asked you a question, Dee. Did you sleep with him or let him touch you?”

“Jesus, Sandra, I married the man. He is my husband.”

“DID YOU LET HIM FUCK YOU?” Sandra yelled into the phone.

Delisa lied, but she preferred to think she got technical. The woman she made love to wasn’t a man, was she? She could honestly say she hadn’t made love to her husband. If Sandra had asked about fucking her new wife, she’d be in trouble. “Stop yelling at me.”

“Well, answer the goddamned question!” Sandra raised her voice but not as loud this time.

“No, I didn’t let my husband fuck me, Sandra.” Had they really fucked or made love? Last night into the morning of today, she finally knew the difference. She and Nicholas Winston-Gates did both. Oh my God, did they ever? She sighed.

“Can I come over? I really need to see you, Deedee,” Sandra asked, sounding whiny, pitiful, and sad. “Talk to me. Say something.”

“You’d better apologize for yelling at me if you wanna see me on my honeymoon, Sandra.”

Sandra groaned then folded her arms across her chest. “Don’t remind me again why you’re there and not in our bed in the city.”

“You agreed to this, Sandra, so quit bitching about it.”

“You said it was the only way to get his company and venture into the manufacturing side of things. You said it’s the wave of the future to buy up little shit companies and diversify.”

“Ah, so you do listen when I talk, Sandy.”

“You never talk. You lecture. You order and you command.”

“Meet me in the lobby of the harbor building. I want to go sailing today.”

“Christ, you know I can’t swim, Dee. You also know I hate boats.”

“All right, you pick where we go and what we do today.”

“Oh sure, you say it as though I’m familiar with this place, Dee.” Sandra lifted the gauze curtains to look at miles of pink sandy beach and aqua blue water. She could see something that looked like mountains in the distance. They were in the middle of nowhere, except for the three villages they flew over two days ago. She shivered with the thought she might have to stay here another ten days unless she could convince Dee to come back to civilization. “Come here where I am. We can stay in bed, eat popcorn, and watch old movies together. We can get high as kites and make love all night long. I brought stogies, rolling paper, and ganja. It’s real good shit, according to a friend of a friend.” She paused, waiting for the lecture she expected to hear from Delisa.

“I should cuss you for bringing that crap in your bag then boarding my jet, but I won’t.” Delisa sighed, realizing once again how difficult this transition had been for her lover. “I’m sorry about all of this. You’ve been so patient through all of this. How can I make it up to you?”

Sandra grinned and thought, That’s better when she heard the apology. “I’ll be waiting for you here. Wear that sheer white silk and lace lingerie you bought for your wedding night.”

“What? You want me to parade around half-naked to your doorstep?”

“Yes. If you can do it for his dumbass, you can damn sure do it for somebody who knows how much you like the poonanny and hate the Johnson. If you’re worried, wear a raincoat over it or something.”

Now wouldn’t be the appropriate time to tell her lover the lingerie had her husband’s blood smeared on it. She decided she’d take a long shower…well, not too long, considering her husband was asleep in the next room.


“All right, give me sixty minutes to get to you.”

“Make it twenty.”

“How about we make it forty instead? I need to clean up.”

Sandra frowned. She was instantly suspicious again. “Clean up from what? If you didn’t do anything with him, why do you need to clean up?”

Delisa sighed. “I wasn’t going to tell you, but with all the excitement…You know, the news media and television cameras covering the wedding, hiding you from all of that. You know how crazy everything was for the last month or so. Well, it stressed me out. My period started yesterday.”

Sandra chuckled. She was delighted. Now she could breathe easy again. Few men wanted to fuck a bloody woman. There was no way playboy Nicholas Gates fucked his new wife last night. “Aw, you poor baby. When you come over, I’ll rub your belly.”

“I’d rather you rub other parts of my anatomy. Baby, I missed you,” Delisa murmured softly. She had missed Sandra. She was used to the woman’s odd ways. The new man in her life that turned into a woman last night took some getting used to. She frowned. She still wasn’t comfortable with the idea that her husband was a woman…a very attractive woman.

“Hang up. Take your shower then get your scrumptious ass over here, Deedee.”

Delisa smiled into the phone. “It’s nice to know you still think my ass is scrumptious. I’m heading to the shower now. See you in forty minutes. Sandy?” She frowned when nobody answered. “Sandy?”

She sighed then ended the call. She slid a closet door back and selected several outfits. She’d put most of her things in here thinking she’d spend the night in the second bedroom and not sleeping next to new her husband in the larger suite. Like the first suite, this bedroom had its own shower, toilet, and basin but on a smaller scale. She showered and slipped into casual open-toed sandals, white Capri jeans that fit like second skin, a vivid red scooped-neck T-shirt made of silk that showed off a great deal of cleavage. She threw several more outfits, duplicates of the one she wore, into a white leather duffel bag, along with underwear, a deep purple thong bikini that she knew Sandra loved, and a vivid printed terrycloth cover-up. She grabbed a pair of white wraparound sunglasses, her wallet, car keys, and her smartphone. She unlocked the second bedroom door, preparing to sneak away from her husband. Curiosity dragged her back to peek into the master bedroom. From the hallway, she watched her husband, no, make it her wife, sleeping soundly.

Nicholas Winston-Gates alias Nicky Winston-Gates had kicked off most of the bedcovers. They rested in a tangled heap at the foot of the king-sized bed, partly trapping one of her feet. She debated whether to step inside and untangle her wife’s foot or leave it as is. Intrigued and attracted by the smooth, brown, solid musculature of her new spouse’s body, she slipped into the master bedroom. She almost reached out to touch her wife’s muscles but at the last minute dropped her hands to her side. “I told Sandra forty minutes and forty minutes it is.” She pulled a pen from her bag and left a hastily scribbled note on the pillow next to her…wife.


Driving through the small village, Delisa wished she hadn’t given Burton time off while she and her “husband” honeymooned on her family’s island. She’d feel safer with the big man driving her to meet Sandra and just generally being around to protect her as bodyguards did. She sighed as she passed by the harbor building. She remembered when her father built the one-story wood structure with the corrugated roof years ago. It looked more like the box warehouse stores of today. Seawater, bad weather, and neglect ate away at the wood and rusted the roof.

The old harbor building had been replaced by three connecting one-story brick structures with green solar energy roofs and huge thermal picture windows. The village still stored boats in one of the structures during bad weather, but the remaining structures contained an island boat repair and boat-building business, small boating rental, and sightseeing tourist business that linked with the two local hotels on the island. The same structure that contained the village’s stored boats also rented out smaller storage spaces for locals, tourists as well as small businesses. In fact, the area around the harbor changed and expanded.

Every time she made the trip down here, she noticed more shops and businesses along the main street where the harbor was located. Most of the villagers still lived further down the road from the harbor, but the distance between residences and the water seemed to be growing shorter and shorter. In a few years, she could imagine some clever realtor selling beachfront properties to some of the wealthier tourists she’d heard about from the island’s three village councils.

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