Priest was foolish and predictable. He came looking for me again and this time he actually had someone break into my apartment. I was nowhere near the place but I knew when the alarm company called that he’d been behind it. When his lover, or whoever he had do the job, made their way inside, all they found was the empty manila envelope in the middle of the floor. Inside was a single page from the centerfold spread of this month’s Playgirl magazine. It made me laugh when I imagined the look on the culprit’s face when he gazed at the picture of a white guy holding his cock. Honestly I figured he might get a kick out of it. I’d left a typed note inside as well.

It read:

I was sprawled out on a beach chair at Antigua’s finest resort, working on my tan for the third day straight, when Theodore Rosemond came walking out to me. Theodore was the assistant to the manager, Mr. Wells, at the Antigua Barbuda International Bank. Before he could say a word I waved for the waiter to bring me a fresh drink. It was my third, or maybe my fourth, mai tai and I was feeling real warm and fuzzy. When the portly messenger stopped in front of me I smiled and he returned my grin.

“Good day, sir,” I said, with my hands shielding my eyes from the sun.

“Good day to you also.”

“So what do you have for me?”

He handed me an envelope. “Ms. Height, your wire has arrived. A receipt of your transmittal is inside.”

“Thank you.” I took the envelope. “Can you tell Mr. Wells that I’ll call him in a few hours?”

He nodded. “Of course. Have a nice afternoon.”

“Thanks.” I could barely wait for him to leave. The second he turned his back and began to walk away I opened the envelope and checked the receipt. My heart began to thump as my eyes scanned the paper. Joy washed over me from head to toe as I read the bottom line, not once or twice but five times. Then a sixth. Two million dollars was actually sitting in my account courtesy of Priest Alexander. I didn’t wait for my drink. I got up and walked coolly past the pool area and back toward the fitness area. I was so excited on the inside that I could have jumped on one of the treadmills and ran ten miles.

I continued on to the elevator and finally I reached the door to my suite. Once I made it inside I let out the triumph that I’d held back on my walk upstairs. I screamed at the top of my lungs, “Yeeesssssss.” I did a dance, ran in place, and jumped on the bed. “I’m fuckin’ rich,” I repeated over and over as I kicked the bed the same way Rick James had stomped on Eddie Murphy’s couch.

A second later I was in the bathroom mirror staring at myself. “I’m reyaaattchh, beeeeyiiiiiitch.” That was my imitation of Ashy Larry belting out Dave Chappelle’s trademark line.

On closer review, I could see that I was sweating slightly, either from the excitement or from the kicking and stomping I’d been doing. I turned on the water in the tub and grabbed my Carol’s Daughter bath gel, my iPod, and slipped into the oversized Jacuzzi tub. I’d forgotten one thing, so with water dripping from my naked body I climbed out of the tub and walked across the cold tile floor to the ice bucket that I’d kept filled with fresh ice for three days straight.

I popped the cork and carried the bottle of Dom Pérignon Rosé that I’d brought from the States with me, and one flute, back into the bathroom. This was a celebration that I’d prepared for. My body embraced the heat as I slid back into the warm water. Deep breaths and small sips were my order as my mind began to wrap itself around the idea that my net worth had just increased exponentially. I’d flirted with a six-figure bank account for years, but I’d always loved to shop. Any fly bitch will tell you that it’s hard to hold on to fast money. I’d learned this the first time I saw a set of diamond studs that I just had to have, so I stopped trying. But this situation was different. I wanted my life to change even if I wasn’t ready to admit to myself why.

I was going to invest in a modest home, start a legitimate business, get myself a 401(k), keep the rest in the bank, and live off the interest. I’d even come up with an idea on how to make even more money. It was all about leverage.

I’d need a hobby to fill some of the free time and maybe even some kids down the line. As for a man, there had only been one in my life who I’d thought of as much as I did Manny. Of course that had been Khalil. Manny was gone, but Khalil wasn’t.

More sips of the champagne and I closed my eyes thinking of him. Cocoa complexion, high cheekbones, thick full lips, a perfect face. Shoulders like a construction worker’s, defined but not bulky like the weight lifters who overdid it. He was blessed with an ass that would probably get him a lot of unwanted attention in jail. He had hips and thighs like an Olympic sprinter. I didn’t even want to think about the boy’s love muscle that must have been sculpted in heaven above. Enough to go plenty deep, but not so long that afterward it felt like I’d been punched in the stomach.

The strangest thing was that I wasn’t really a sexual person and I had never been. It was such a misconception that any woman who had relations in order to get ahead was either promiscuous or a nymphomaniac. I was far from either. Sex for me had always been a means to an end and it had almost always been safe. Enjoyment hadn’t been promised, nor looked for, on my part.

Khalil hadn’t been the first man I’d slept with on a nonprofessional basis. There’d been a few others over the years. Just men I’d found attractive or intriguing. They’d pursued me with wine and food and occasionally with gifts. I’d given them the one thing that they all craved, great sexual pleasure. Still, I left them all wanting something that I couldn’t give them, my heart. It had been easy to walk away from them since I hadn’t allowed the connection to become any deeper than the day I’d met them. I clearly had been missing the sensitivity chip. I preferred to believe I was simply focused.

This situation was different. I didn’t want to admit it, but I was afraid. I was afraid that I could really care for Khalil and that could bring trouble that I wasn’t ready to face. I didn’t doubt for a hot second that I could snatch him from Rorrie, but I was afraid that I might not be able to keep him. When, or if, he learned who I was, would he want to be with me?

I’d studied men over the years, mostly out of boredom if for no other reason. Through the things they talked about with me during our interactions I learned that they all wanted the things that they were least willing to give. Every single one of them wanted to be loved, adored, worshipped, and appreciated. On top of this they wanted to feel big. It didn’t matter if they made the women around them feel small. They wanted to be cared for while they cared only for themselves. But above all of this, they wanted to be accepted. Accepted for who they were. Rich, broke, fat, skinny, smart or dumb, they wanted a woman who would overlook their shortcomings, their situations, and their past.

I learned that us women asking for the same thing was nothing short of insane. For that reason alone, I was too petrified to love. Too scared to dream, until now.

I turned the jets on. As the tub began to vibrate, the motor forced the bolts of water out, causing a rumble that I felt from head to toe. Mary J.’s voice soothed me as I closed my eyes and dreamed of what it would be like to have a man love me right. I couldn’t really imagine being able to trust a man to take care of me but I tried.

The beaches were beautiful in Antigua and I thought about staying there forever, though I knew I wouldn’t. Perhaps Priest would be persistent enough to have the wire traced to the account. He’d never see me again and by this time tomorrow, I and the money would be gone from this island forever. I’d move it to another account and to another name and then to another. His money was gone for good and that excited me, it always had.

As the jets continued to send the water rumbling against my thighs I began to let my imagination run wild as my mind stared deep into a world of fantasy. I could see my home overlooking the ocean. There I was, sprawled out on a huge white couch, enjoying the breeze flowing from the ocean as a flame burned nearby, sending a mixture of hot and cold air to caress my body, which would be naked except for the thin piece of cotton that would serve as panties.

I’d be in heaven as my servant handed me small slices of melon dipped in honey, feeding me from his fingers. Tall, handsome, and ripped, dressed only in a swatch of fabric, he’d be black as the night and as beautiful as the Greek mythological hero Narcissus. I’d call him Khalil. Then there’d be another. A cross between a black and a Latino, who’d have skin that was so kissed by the sun that he’d be the color of bronze. I’d call him Manny. Golden brown skin, washboard stomach, white teeth, green eyes, and a pole like a black man.

They’d both smell of aloe, shea butter, and all things manly. Catching their scent in the wind would drive me crazy. Manny would have the soft and gentle touch, while the dark one, Khalil, would be rough.

They’d run their hands all over my body, caressing and then pinching until they’d touched every nerve. Khalil would reach for and yank my sheer panties from my body. He’d then drop to his knees, forcing my thighs apart. All the while Manny would be at my neck kissing me, while his warm breath danced against my skin. He’d move down to my breasts, cupping them, taking the nipples gently between his teeth.

Suddenly, I’d feel Khalil’s tongue as it found my clit. He’d start a high-impact groove in and out as his fat lips held me hostage. I’d love every minute of it, the feeling of both men servicing me.

Manny would wait patiently for my permission to put it in my mouth while Khalil continued his violent licks against my center, pushing me closer to the edge. With one hand massaging my own breast, I’d begin to bring Manny toward my mouth. Before I could get him in, Khalil would pull his mouth from my pussy and place his huge shaft at my entrance and slam it home.

The surprised jolt of pleasure caught me off guard and I opened my eyes wide. I’d almost swallowed the water in the tub as I’d slid my body down so that my vagina was an inch away from the pulsing jets. My body was exploding and I could barely keep my head from going under water. I had no choice but to continue allowing the jets to send me over the edge. The orgasm was coming hard. “Ooooooooooohhhhhhh, shit,” I screamed out as my body began to spasm. “Ehhhhhh, uhhhhh, ooooowwwwww.”

As I came, the fantasy Khalil and Manny were long gone. Manny, who had always been the face of my desire, was nowhere to be found. As I bucked and slid against the bottom of that tub, I saw only Khalil.

In that moment, I knew that it was time to kill two birds with one stone.

A little before noon the next day my connecting flight landed in Puerto Rico. I was on my way back to the States. All morning I’d thought about my new life and what it would bring. As I made my way across the airport and through customs, I thought about what I’d say when I got him on the phone. Maybe I could have him come up to New York, where I had a meeting.

Everything was perfect until I saw that my flight into JFK was delayed by an hour. I grabbed a seat in front of the huge window and began to stare out onto the runway. I was the only one sitting there so I decided to plug my cell phone in the wall and steal a little juice. Before I plugged it in the urge swept over me and I flipped open the pink Razr. I scrolled down and pulled up his number.

I stared at it for a second before I pressed the green button to send. I let it ring three times and was about to hang it up when the voice on the other end answered, “Hello.”

He sounded asleep but I went ahead and said, “Hello, stranger, did I wake you?”

“Excuse me,” she said as suddenly I recognized that the voice didn’t belong to Khalil, but to a woman.

“I’m sorry but I was trying to reach Khalil.”

“Khalil is in the shower. Who is this?”

I needed to be a lady. I had no idea who it was on the other end of the line. It could have been anyone. But it wasn’t anyone. I knew who it was so my response was what it was. “I asked for Khalil.”

There it was.

“Okay, bitch. Who the hell do you think you are calling here at…” She must have taken the time to look at a clock. “…at six forty-five in the morning, asking for my man, not wanting to identify yourself, calling from a blocked number.”

“Bitch, you need to calm down. It’s almost eleven where I am.”

“Who the fuck is this?” she yelled back into the phone. I paused for a second. There was silence. “I said who is this?”

I remembered Rorrie. The same girl I loved as a child. The same girl who I dreamed with as a kid. She was never that tough and I could hear in her voice that she was scared already. Shaken that someone was on her man’s line, bold enough to disrespect her. It was time so I didn’t let up. “Listen, I want to speak with Khalil. I have something important that I know he’ll want to hear.”

“Oh yeah, what’s that?”

It was the oldest trick in the book but I didn’t care. I wanted her man and I wanted her miserable. “He’s going to be a father and guess what? It ain’t with you, bitch.”

“Whooooo the hell is this,” her voice shrieked out.

“He’ll know. Tell him, I’ll call him later. Tell him to be alone so we can talk.”

“When I find out who this is I’m gonna…”

“Rorrie, you ain’t gonna do shit.” I hung up the phone.

It was in effect. A smile fought its way across my face. I’d made my mind up. I was going to try this. A normal life, with a normal man, were both within my grasp. All I had to do was snatch them.