Explanation of Love 02

"Oh, thank you; I knew you'd understand," Louis said.

"Do you take American Express?" Paula asked.

"Oh yes I do, and even better than that," Louis said and paused for dramatic effect. "So does C.C.T.C."

"Louis, you are so bad," Paula laughed.

"And I'm very good at being bad," Louis smirked.

"See?" Paula said as they left the building. "THAT'S a professional training center. Not that God-awful..."

"Don't," Terry laughed. "Say that word and he'll have security come and throw us out."

Paula glanced at her watch.

"Got about five hours before I go in; oh, you coming with me?" Paula asked.

"Of course," Terry smiled and got into the passenger seat.

"Why don't we go home and..." Paula asked, easing the hem of Terry's skirt up, stroking Terry's leg.

"Okay," Terry readily agreed.

"Aw, shit; Maggie's there," Paula suddenly remembered.

She glanced at her watch again.

"She's just now getting there too; no way's she finished yet," Paula sighed.

"Oh well," Terry sighed.

"Ever made love in the back seat before?" Paula asked.

"No," Terry admitted.

Paula drove as quickly as she could, without attracting the attention of Elgee's police force; speeding tickets was their top money maker.

"So where are we going?" Terry asked as Paula's hand edged her skirt up higher.

"Home; Maggie doesn't clean the garage," Paula smiled, reaching Terry's pussy.

She playfully tugged at Terry's pubic hair.

"Aw, Terry; you forget to put on panties?" she asked.

"You didn't put any out," Terry reminded her.

Paula tugged at Terry's blonde tuft.

"Damn it!" Paula complained as she approached their condominium. Maggie's battered Oldsmobile was parked directly in the center of the driveway, effectively blocking either entry to or escape from the garage.

"Damn!" Terry whined, close to orgasm.

Paula had tired of tugging at Terry's hair and had taken to lazily flicking a fingernail over Terry's swollen clitoris.

"Oh, well, guess we'll just have to wait until tonight," Paula said and took her hand away from Terry's pussy.

"Bitch!" Terry yelped, only a few more strokes away from coming.

"Aw, what's the matter, Terry?" Paula teased.

Chapter 14

Terry didn't really want to, but Paula had insisted that she flirt with Milt Duhon, the man she'd hired to cook for their party. Paula had actually suggested Terry go beyond flirting; Paula wanted her to seduce Milt.

The thirty four year old man was their next door neighbor; the Escalade Terry drove had actually been his wife's car. He had laughed and told Terry that Queenie had never looked quite as good driving it as Terry did.

"Look, Sonny's going to be here and..." Paula had whispered.

Terry struggled into the cut off denim shorts and snug half shirt.

"Oh, come on, Paula," Terry whined when she saw the four inch heeled pumps Paula took out of the closet for her.

She didn't want to say it, but the shorts and cropped top would make her look like a slut. The four inch heels would cement that appearance.

"Whoops!" Paula laughed as they heard the doorbell chime. "He's here!"

"Fine, fine," Terry sulked as she slipped the shoes on, and then skipped down the stairs.

Hey, Terry," Sonny greeted her brusquely, nearly pushing her out of the way. "She upstairs?"

"Yeah, just fished doing her hair," Terry said to his back.

Terry didn't understand Sonny's demeanor; they'd been friendly when they'd gone out for her birthday. He'd been very friendly when they'd gone out for Paula's birthday and had made love to her while she made love to Paula.

She'd even given him her anal cherry; Paula had talked her into it.

Personally, Terry had not enjoyed anal sex all that much; it was painful and was quite dirty. But both Paula and Sonny had been very excited by it, so she endured it.

But, ever since that day at the bank, the day of the board meeting, and Sonny's attitude toward her had shifted to where he was cool toward her, almost cold.

Terry moved to close the door.

"Whoa, whoa, don't close that door," Terry hear their neighbor call out.

"Hey!" she pasted a happy smile on her face. "I been waiting for you!"

"Oh yeah?" Milt smiled.

"Yeah," Terry said and gave him a feather light kiss.

He stood at five feet, ten inches, taller than most Cajun men. His hair was a dark brown, cut short, his skin was the ruddy brown of being outdoors much of the time, and his eyes were muddy brown. Milton Duhon's smile was gleaming white against all the brown. His one crooked tooth made him all the more attractive to his many female viewers.

He was wearing his trademark black polo shirt and olive green khakis and black suede belt and loafers.

In his muscular arms, he clutched a box that clanked and clattered with the pots and pans he would be using to prepare their feast.

"Yeah; Paula says I'm to do whatever you want me to do," Terry said, resting her fingers on his muscled bicep.

"She did?" Milt smiled playfully.

"Uh huh," Terry nodded her head.

"Whatever I want, huh?" Milt asked.

Terry smiled playfully and nodded her head.

"And you are dressed for it," he commented.

Terry blushed; she knew that her ass cheeks hung out of the shorts and any movement in the wrong way would expose much of her breasts and the four inch heels weren't helping her maintain a defensive posture.

She closed the door and followed Milt into the kitchen. She ran smack into his back when he stopped short.

"You have a gas cook top?" he said, voice rising in excitement.

"Uh yeah; the oven's over here," Terry said, pointing.

"You have a gas cook top?" Milt asked again.

He put the pox on the counter and ran his hand over the five burners. He smiled and turned to Terry, who was leaning over, looking into the box he'd brought with him.

"I have an all electric kitchen; hate it. Just something wrong about electric cook tops, you know?" Milt commented.

"Uh huh," Terry agreed and quickly picked up the spray bottle.

Courtney narrowed her eyes but jumped down from the table before Terry could squirt her.

"And..." Milt said and turned the oven on to begin pre-heating it.

"So you're my little helper today, huh?" Milt asked as he dug out two large cutting boards and two lethal looking knives from the box.

An hour later, Paula skipped into the kitchen, dressed in cut off denim shorts, checkered halter top and black five inch heeled sandals.

"Hey, how's it going?" she asked, putting an affectionate arm around Milt's waist.

"I want me a gas cook top yeah," Milt demanded.

"Really?" Paula asked, looking at the stove. "Okay; I'll call Paul tomorrow, have him come out and put one in for you."

She skipped over to where Terry was chopping up chicken livers.

"What's that, never mind, I don't want to know," she asked, putting her hand on one of Terry's buttocks, giving it an affectionate squeeze.

"Love you," she whispered into Terry's ear, and then kissed Terry's cheek.

Paula then skipped out of the kitchen. A moment later, Terry heard music coming from the living room.

"Aw yeah, that's perfect yeah," Milt praised as he peered over Terry's shoulder. "Now, you cut up them onion and bell pepper and we good to go."

"Smells good," Terry complimented as Milt opened the oven to check the standing rib roast.

"We right on time," Milt said as he started cooking the rice.

When Terry finished chopping the onion, bell pepper and celery, Milt helped her prepare the appetizers.

He leaned close to her and she could smell the smells of spices, onions, sweat. She was sure she smelled the same; they'd both been cooking for an hour.

The invitation said the party began at 11:30 am with dinner to be served at 12:30 pm.

At 11:30 am precisely, the doorbell rang.

"Bet that's Cheryl; bitch is always right on time for anything," Paula called out over the music.

"Sure fire way to find out," Milt called back.

"Yeah?" Paula asked.

"Yeah, go open the door," Milt responded.

"Gee, you're so funny," Paula smirked.

"Hey!" Cheryl chirped, and then narrowed her eyes.

"Who did your hair?" Cheryl asked through gritted teeth.

"Duh, who you think?' Paula asked. "Hi Peggy; how's it going?"

Peggy Morrison waddled her six foot, three hundred pound bulk into the door, none too gently urging Cheryl ahead of her.

"Terry!" Cheryl shrilled.

"God!" Terry complained, coming out of the kitchen. "What?"

"You do my hair like that, right now, or I will never ever speak to you again," Cheryl demanded, pointing at Paula's head.

"Really? You promise?" Terry asked.

"Oh!" Cheryl gasped. "And you do Peggy's like yours, you hear?"

"Cheryl, I don't want..." Peggy snapped.

"No, no, look, look at how cute she is!" Cheryl protested, cuddling up to the behemoth.

"Jesus, whatever, you annoying little bitch," Peggy said, shoving Cheryl away. "Where's the bathroom?"

"Same place it was last time we was here," Cheryl snapped.

Peggy raised a meaty paw to strike the much smaller Cheryl but Cheryl easily sidestepped the blow.

"God damn; y'all ain't even been here five minutes y'all are already starting?" Paula spat.

"Fuck; she knows I'm just playing," Peggy spat, waddling to the small bathroom.

"Now, come on; do my hair," Cheryl demanded.

"Cheryl, my hands smell like onion," Terry whined.

"No, no, come see," Milt said, beckoning to Terry.

"See, this coffee soap? Take the smell right out of them hands," Milt encouraged, digging a bar of the black soap out of his box.

"Ew, feels weird!" Terry complained as she scrubbed with the soap.

"Uh huh, but it work yeah," Milt laughed.

"Okay, you brought your own brush?" Terry asked as she dried her hands on a dish towel.

Paula directed them to the downstairs bedroom, which had been converted into their exercise room. Cheryl sat on the padded bench and Terry made fairly quick work of styling her long black hair into a close approximation of Paula's 'casual' tease.

"Look, Peggy," Cheryl shrilled, leaving the room without telling Terry 'thank you.'

Terry just shrugged and dropped Cheryl's brush into her purse.

"Whiney little bitch says do me now," Peggy demanded, lumbering into the room.

"Oh, okay, sure," Terry said, looking through Cheryl's purse for a band to hold Peggy's hair into the loose pony-tail.

She worked quickly; Peggy gave off some very angry vibes and made Terry very uncomfortable.

Looking closely at the large woman, Terry could tell that, at one time, Peggy Morrison had been a very pretty woman. But nearly one hundred and fifty extra pounds, hard lines, and permanent scowl had removed much of the traces of Peggy's former beauty.

"Yeah, that is cute," Peggy sullenly agreed, looking at herself in the wall to ceiling mirror that covered the entire east wall of the room.

"And what I like about it; it is super easy. Just pull the band out and you're right back to just natural," Terry said. "Since most of it is just hanging..."

"Thanks," Peggy snapped and got off the bench.

"Welcome," Terry replied.

"Terry!" Paula called out from the living room.

"Yeah?" Terry asked, entering the living room.

"Darlene's here; find out where she plans on sitting and get the saran wrap, okay?" Paula teased as the red head stood in the living room, looking around.

"Aw, fuck you, bitch!" Darlene laughed. "I didn't come here to be insulted!"

"Oh?" Paula asked, putting an affectionate arm around the woman. "Where do you go to be insulted?"

"My mother's house," Darlene admitted, returning Paula's friendly hug.

"Heard that!" Paula agreed. "Want something to drink?"

"Diet coke, you got it," Darlene said. "Damn, Paula, this is nice."

"Aw, you ain't never been here before?" Paula asked, fixing Darlene's drink at the bar.

"No; I mean, I dropped you off that one night, but I was in a hurry," Darlene said.

"Well I'll give you a quick tour," Paula offered, leading Darlene to the stairs.

The doorbell rang and Terry answered to find Kenyata and a sullen looking African-American male with her.

"Hi, come on in," Terry said.

Kenyata and the man entered without even responding to Terry's friendly greeting.

The man immediately went to the stereo, which was playing some of Paula's CD collection, put it on 'FM' selection and found a Rap station playing out of Baton Rouge. He also increased the volume and adjusted the stereo to pump mainly out of the sub-woofer.

"Excuse me!" Paula snapped, switching the stereo back to 'CD' selection and re-adjusting the volume and sub-woofer feed. "This is not your house; you do not just come on in and put your hands on other people's things!"

"Aw, hey, fuck! Aw no, it's you?" the man spat, glaring at Paula.

"It's me what? Yeah, it's my house and we were listening to my music," Paula snapped, beautiful face twisted in anger.

"Aw, no, I'd have known it was your party I'd have told my girl 'fuck no, we ain't going to that stuck up cracker bitch's house," the man spat.

"Listen, 'homey,'" Paula hissed. "Don't know what your problem is, come up in my house acting all ignorant and shit, then want to call me 'bitch?' I don't think so."

"Delight," Kenyata said.

"What?" Delight spat at her.

"You need to chill, n*gga," Kenyata warned.

"Any more of his shit; I ask you to leave," Paula warned Kenyata. "I'm ask real nice but it ain't going to be nothing nice, hear?"

"Fucking bitch acting like she don't even remember me," Delight complained to Kenyata as Paula stomped away. "I'm checking in with my boys, tell her she got herself some fine wheels and she just goes all off on me and even kicks me."

Terry remembered Delight as the arrogant young black man that dared grab Paula as they were leaving Darkira's Hair College.

"Hey, Terry, we're about ready to start serving the appetizers, okay?" Milt smiled from the kitchen doorway.

"Oh, yeah, yeah," Terry stammered.

Before Terry could join Milt in the kitchen, the doorbell rang again.

"Hey," Shelley, a slightly chubby brunette came in.

"Hey; where's your boyfriend?" Terry smiled, ushering in the dancer.

"Had to go to his Mommy's," Shelley made a face.

"Has to go to his Mommy's house every Sunday, eat Sunday dinner with his mommy or she'll just wither up and die," Shelley went on. "Fuck! Told him, Aaron! You're thirty nine years old! When are you going to quit running over there every time your mommy calls?"

"Oh well, glad you're here; you get the door next time it rings?" Terry asked.

"Yeah, why? Queen Kenyata too busy to do it?" Shelley asked.

"Man, this is some cracker ass music, huh?" Delight complained to no one as 'Pubic Fruit' by Curve played.

"Aw yeah, that's what I'm talking about!" Shelley whooped as 'Blindfold' began to play.

She began to swivel and gyrate. Delight got to his feet and tried to dance with Shelley, who just stopped dancing and walked away from him.

"Hey, Cheryl, what up, girl?" Shelley called out as Cheryl and Peggy walked from the dining room to the bar.

"Aw, no! She invited you too?" Cheryl teased.

"Yeah, that's what I said when she told me you were coming," Shelley agreed.

Terry served the appetizers, making sure to offer Kenyata and her sullen escort first pick. She yelped as Cheryl playfully cupped Terry's crotch from behind.

"Cheryl!" Terry squealed.

"Now how you know it was me?" Cheryl asked, face a mask of innocence.

Shelley let Tita, Tita's brother Raoul, Amber and Amber's creepy old boyfriend, Glen Simone in, then playfully tried to shut the door on Kirsten and Kirsten's boyfriend, a fellow member of N.A., Brian.

"Bitch," Kirsten laughed and pinched Shelley's buttock.

"Don't get nothing started you can't finish," Shelley warned.

A few moments later, Milt announced that dinner was ready.

"Terry, over here," Paula said, indicating a seat to her right at the head of the table.

"But I'm helping Milt with the dinner," Terry protested.

"Baby, Milt can get it," Paula assured her.

Sonny raised his eyebrows at Paula in an unspoken question.

"What?" Paula asked.

"She's sitting... Where am I supposed to sit?" Sonny asked, his displeasure evident.

"Here," Paula indicated the chair to her left.

"Oh," was his terse reply.

"Paula I can sit..." Terry said, trying to placate the man.

"Sit, Terry," Paula ordered.

"The red wine is from a friend of mine in Crowley; makes his own," Paula said, pouring a glass for Terry without asking Terry what she wanted to drink. "He's from 'the old country;' that's what he calls Italy. He and his wife bottle about a hundred bottles every year. Those of you that don't drink wine, there is iced tea."

"Iced tea for me, please," Kirsten called out.

"Everyone, this is Milt Duhon; he is..." Paula introduced the man as he came into the formal dining room, carrying the tray of the thinly sliced rib roast.

"You're that chef guy!" Amber drunkenly shouted out. "The one on Channel Twelve!"

"Yep; that's me," Milt smiled easily.

"The one worked with that slut Vee Aucoin," Amber followed up.

"Hey! Amber!" Paula called out. "That's not very nice!"

"She's actually a very sweet girl and that was just for a one week promotion," Milt said.

"Well what you call some ho runs around with her ass all hanging out and shit?" Amber sneered.

"Most of us call her 'Amber,'" Paula said.

"That's different!" Amber protested over everyone's laughter. "I get paid to..."

"And so does she,"Paula replied. "Anyway, this is Milt Duhon; he is a professional chef, so I know today's meal will be excellent."

"I'm not a professional chef; I'm just some smuck likes cooking," Milt protested as he served the guests.

"Oh, my God; this is the absolute best thing I've ever..." Shelley moaned around a forkful of meat.

"Shelley, I was going to ask Sonny to say the blessing, THEN we can eat," Paula said.

Sonny gave a very quick blessing as Milt took his seat.

"I want this recipe," Kirsten demanded as she tasted the dirty rice.

"It's on the Channel Twelve web site," Milt told her. "I understand you're the head chef at the Dead End? Tell me what you think of the summer squash casserole, huh?"

"This ain't cooked," Delight declared.

"It's medium rare; rib roast is supposed to be served either rare or medium rare," Milt calmly told the surly man. "Personally, I do not care for rare, so..."

"Ooh, I want that recipe too," Kirsten said.

Paula listened in on the conversations going on around her. She did try to engage Sonny in conversation but he gave her either grunts or one word answers. So, she chatted with Terry.

Then she looked around.

"Son of a..." she spat and got to her feet.

"Excuse, e, party's down here," Paula called out as Delight stepped onto the second floor landing.

"Oh, I uh, I was just looking for the bathroom," Delight said.

"Right here, right by the stairs; can't miss it, door's wide open," Paula snapped.

Delight swaggered down the stairs, brushed by Paula and slammed the door to the bathroom.

Yo, Kenny, you and your boy need to tell everyone good bye," Paula announced from the doorway of the dining room.

"What? Why?" Kenyata asked. "I'm eating!"

"Caught him going upstairs; ain't nothing up there for him," Paula said. "Guests in my house, being all sneaky and shit? No, no, y'all just go on, get your asses out of here."

"Aw, that dumb ass n*gger; I done told him 'Paula ain't playing," Kenyata snapped, getting to her feet.

Delight rudely brushed past Paula as he entered the dining room. Paula grabbed him by the collar of his tee shirt and yanked him backward.

"Y'all are leaving," she calmly said.

"Tell you like you done told me, 'don't be putting your hands on me,' bitch," Delight snarled, shoving at Paula.

Paula blocked his shove and again swept his feet out from under him.

"Never learn, huh, pussy? Yeah, that's right, I recognize you; you the dumb ass mother fucker thought he was all bad out front of Darkira's," Paula sneered as her guests gasped.