Be Silent: Chapter 4 - Catch and Release

“Oh shit, you’re gonna make me kum,” she moaned loudly, laying on her back, pinned against the chaise with her legs in the air.

“You like this dick, don't you?” I asked aggressively, stroking that her pussy, trying not to cum before her.

“I do Gary, I do,” she said, biting her lower lip.

“What did you just kall me?” I replied, inserting my penis deeper into her vagina.

“Oh shit, that feels so good, Silent,” she said, immediately correcting herself.

Once I got her close to the apex, I decided it was time to switch it up to my go-to position. I would describe it to you, but it’s my go-to position, guaranteed to make a woman cum, and I don’t want anyone stealing my shit. Anyway, after I switched to my go-to position, about ten strokes later she grabs the chaise pillow and puts it over her face to muffle her scream. In the corner suite we occupied I doubt anyone could hear her, but she did it anyway.

Shortly after she got hers, I got mine. I had a condom on so I came while still inside her, feeling it was safe to do so. To keep it 100, I actually laid on top of her, with my penis still inside her, so I could feel her vagina throb. And I guarantee you, it was pulsating a mile a minute. A few dozen seconds pass then I gently pull out, knowing her vagina is sensitive. She still has the pillow covering her face, as if slightly embarrassed.

I head to the bathroom to discard the condom and do a quick wash-up. Not in a million years would I have ever thought I would be in this moment with Cheyenne. This is the homie, she’s from the hood. Not saying I have never fucked any of the homegirls before, it's just Cheyenne is the homie-homie. She calls me every time she leaves the studio so I can critique her music. Now I know the girl is talented beyond the arts.

As I am returning from the bathroom, Cheyenne is finally up. She is standing between the bed and the chaise. I am assuming she rose from the chaise seconds before I returned from the bathroom. Her body is glistening, small beads of sweat cover her like dew on a leaf in the early morning. The moment she notices me, she instantly attempts to cover her petite chocolate frame.

“Don’t look at me!”, she states, right hand across her plump breasts, left hand covering a vagina with some slight new growth.

“I was just looking at you for the past 22 minutes,” I reply, standing in front of her, myself fully nude.

“That’s different, we were in the moment,” she reasoned.

I did an about face, walked towards the closet and retrieved one of the plush robes provided by the hotel. Turning my head, to not look at her, I toss the robe in her direction when I arrive back in the bedroom. While giving her a few moments to put the robe on, I’m thinking about how we got here in the first place. This has been a wild 24 hours to say the least.

“I’m about to hop in the shower, kan you order breakfast?” she said. “It’s on me, I got you, no worries.”

“What do you want?” I asked.

“French toast or pancakes, whatever they have,” replied Cheyenne. “French toast would be my first option. Also, I want a side of fruit and turkey sausage. If there’s no French toast, order pancakes, with the sides I mentioned, plus a side of scrambled cheese eggs.”

“Who do you think I am, Benson or something?” was my sarcastic reply.

“Boy, just order what I said and get a bottle of Prosecco with a pitcher of orange juice.”

“Alright,” I replied as I slapped her ass when she walked by me.

Here’s how we got here. As soon as I left the meeting with Jessika and Mr. Goldman, I sat in my car for 20 minutes or so searching for hotels in the area with decent rates. I knew for a fact I was not going to drive back to the hood. My intention, as I was booking the room, was to be by myself for the night, hit the hotel lobby, grab a few drinks and go to sleep. But, as you can see, it didn’t happen that way.

Cheyenne texted me shortly after I booked the hotel and asked if I was still down to kick it. Reluctantly, I agreed to hang out. The only reason I entertained Cheyenne was because I needed some weed and I know she always keeps a few grams on her. If she didn’t text me, I would have never reached out to her that night, although that’s what I thought I wanted to do earlier. Something came over me, as I was sitting in my car, that made me want to be alone, to be silent.

Her session ended an hour and a half after I checked in. The commute from Westwood would put Cheyenne at the hotel in just under twenty minutes with traffic. I called downstairs to add her name to the room to prevent a potential ghosting if I happened to fall asleep. Didn’t want that to occur because she did sound excited to see me yesterday during our video chat.

There’s a reason why spiritual traditions, past and present, say know thyself. And I know myself extremely well. Two Cognacs and a craft beer later, I was stuck. I damn near passed out at the bar. The bartender nudged me as my eyes closed for what seemed like only a few seconds, but it was more like a minute or two.

“Hey sir, are you a guest of the hotel?” the bartender asked.

“Yea, room 1240,” I replied, low key annoyed that he asked me that.

“Would you like to bill the drinks to your room or cash out?” he asked, now reaching for the receipt, in the rocks glass in front of me, that shows what my tab is.

I didn't reply immediately, I simply reached in my pocket and pulled out a crisp hundo; one of the ones from Big Momma and Princess. He looked at it and before a word could come from his mouth, I was sliding my chair backwards on the finished concrete floor that surrounded the bar area. The bartender was continuing to look at me when I bent the corner to take the elevator to my suite. Muthafucka probably ain’t used to seeing a young nigga like me tip like that.

Between Big Momma, my mother, and definitely Jessika, my tipping game is on point. Princess is cheap. When I’m out with her, I always offer to leave the tip. She’ll fuck around and embarass both of us. No bullshit, that’s the biggest tip, percentage wise, I have left a server since I’ve been going out by myself. My bill was $49 including tax for three drinks. Usually, even if I get shitty service, I will give 18-20%. If the service is exceptional, the percentage goes up to 30-33% depending on if the server is personable, attentive, but still stays out the way. I learned that from Jessika.

Back at the room, it’s shower time and I stay in there for less time than I normally do because I’m dead tired. When I exit the shower, I do a quick pat down of my body and head straight to the closet to grab one of those Angeles Mesa Hotel robes I saw when I put my windbreaker in there. Damn, the robe felt good as fuck when I first put it on. That experience was like taking another shot, putting me straight to sleep.

Not sure if I tied the robe belt tight enough when I initially put it on, but by the time Cheyenne arrived, the robe was open as I lay on my back in the middle of the bed. Before she woke me up, which I was told took close to five minutes, she covered me with a towel from the bathroom. I assured her I did not fall asleep exposed on purpose, and she believed me. That would look rather suspect to me if the shoe was on the other foot.

One of the reasons I picked the corner suite is because it had a balcony. Cheyenne likes to smoke weed and had a few pre-rolls that she picked up from a dispensary on Sunset and some punch she got from her engineer at the studio. We stepped onto the balcony to spark one of the pre-rolls, taking the glasses filled with ice cold punch with us. On the balcony, Cheyenne could not stop clowning me about having my dick out when she arrived at the room.

What caught my ear was when she told me, “If you weren’t the homie, I would’ve jumped on that.” Of course she attempted to pass it off as a joke, but I wasn’t buying it. I knew she was dead ass serious.

My lungs aren’t strong enough to smoke the whole pre-roll with Cheyenne. That, mixed with the punch, got me extra high. We head back into the room after I tap out. On some random shit, Cheyenne has two decks of cards in her purse. After we sit down she pulls them out and asks if I want to play Speed or Uno? Uno it is; I’m too faded to be playing Speed, actually I think we both are.

No cap, I’m busting her ass at Uno. She keeps accusing me of cheating. I assure her I’m not, I’m just better than her. Convinced that I’m cheating, she lunges at me and tries to take the cards as I’m beginning to deal the next hand. When she did that, somehow the robe belt came loose again, exposing my man parts. With her being focused on stealing the cards from me, she didn’t immediately notice.

I had to tell her to stop so I could fix my robe. She thought I was joking, without looking down, and proceeded to straddle me to continue her pursuit of the Uno cards as I fell back on the bed. Once she got on top of me, she knew it was real. From there, she started looking back and forth between my face and my dick. A few times after doing that, she leaned forward and started kissing me. Thirty seconds into us kissing, she started to gyrate on my dick causing an instantaneous erection. Like second nature, my arm reached for the emergency kit located on the nightstand next to the bed. It came equipped with a three pack of condoms. Let round one begin.

Round one was just ok, nothing to write home about. The foreplay was a cut above the actual sex. I think it's because the moment was awkward as we started to have intercourse. I’ve known Cheyenne since elementary school and never looked at her in a sexual way, and I assume she never looked at me that way either. I mean, the homies would tease me, calling me her husband and personal A&R because I would always listen to, and critique, her music. Some thought we were fucking too, but the real homies knew I wasn’t.

Round two was better, way better. Cheyenne started off by sucking my dick. I guess she lost some of that shyness she displayed in the first round. A man couldn’t ask for anything better than what Cheyenne was doing to my pole. She hit all the areas spot on; giving solo attention to the head, up and down the shaft with no teeth and would go deep throat from time to time. Good head always gets me more excited in the bedroom. It's like extra motivation to beat the pussy up, a reward for the woman.

Cheyenne and I both passed out after round two, rightfully so. Round two was like movie sex, passionate fucking and then go to sleep without washing up afterward. Unfortunately, my slumber didn’t last long. Less than an hour after snoozing, cuddled up with Cheyenne, I had a nightmare and woke up in a cold sweat. To not bother Cheyenne, I exited the bed and sat on the chaise. Her being a light sleeper, she recognized I wasn’t in the bed moments later and woke up. Cheyenne knew something was up, coming to sit next to me on the chaise.

The warmth she had for me in that moment led her to show more affection, predominantly holding my hand as she gently rubbed my back. That was the kick off to more kissing and the commencement of an added closeness between us. Most importantly, the onset of round three, hands down the most intense sexual experience I’ve had in a while. There was a real connection made between Cheyenne and I in that third round. The chemistry far exceeded anything prior to this moment in time. If I had another condom, I’d get in the shower with her right now for round four.

Let me stop thinking salaciously and order breakfast. I’m still high and I burnt lots of calories in the past few hours. I can use the fuel that a good breakfast yields. Although the in-room dining menu does not list French toast, the lady taking my order assures me that the kitchen can make that happen for me. She told me one of her favorite cooks is running the line right now and French toast is one of his specialties. Once I have Cheyenne squared away, I order the honey butter chicken biscuit.

The server quotes me a 30-45 minute wait time for the food, but says she can get the Prosecco, orange juice and some complimentary muffins with seasonal berries up to the room ASAP. I accept her offer because I want Cheyenne to have something when she exits the shower. Berries and muffins are a good touch and I heard a lady at the bar raving about the combo last night. The way she talked, I could almost taste them in my mouth.

Within 10 minutes, and almost in sync with Cheyenne departing from the shower, I get a knock at the door. The muffins were so fresh, the mouthwatering aroma seeped into the bathroom where she could smell the assortment of baking mastery.

“Damn, whatever that is smells bomb as fuck,” she uttered loudly from the other side of the bathroom door.

The server chuckled under her breath as I signed the receipt, leaving an additional tip on top of the gratuity in-room dining already charges. I was assured that the other items we ordered would be up shortly, and if we needed anything else, do not hesitate to reach out. What I needed was another three-pack of condoms, but I wasn’t going to tell her that. Truthfully, my intended next move is to play this Cheyenne situation more smoothly before it gets out of hand.

“I need whatever I’m smelling,” Cheyenne said, coming out of the bathroom draped in the robe I gave her earlier.

“It’s these muffins they gave us with the champagne. The lady at the bar last night was popping big shit about these,” I said as I unfolded the neatly placed napkin covering the muffins to show her.

Cheyenne immediately grabbed one and spread some butter on it from the stainless steel ramekin in the basket with the muffins. Her face said it all, the muffins were as good as advertised. I followed suit and retrieved one, a blueberry one, and stuffed it in my mouth sans the butter. The arrival of my honey butter chicken biscuit is now an afterthought. Swear to God, I’ll just eat these muffins and give my biscuit to Princess. Chicken biscuits, in any form, are one of her favorite food items.

This thing between Cheyenne and I can’t escape my mind. Seriously, I want to take it slowly and not get too caught up in her, but as she is feeding me one of the muffins, this time with butter, I feel like this situation is right. Then, I went blank for a moment. She’s laughing saying something, all of which I cannot hear. The silence didn’t last long, the fact that it happened at all is what I’m tripping on.

“Babe, are you ok? Answer the door, I think it’s the rest of our food,” was the first thing I heard when I tuned back in.

I opened the door and back was our server with Cheyenne’s French toast and my chicken biscuit. Cheyenne kinda hid behind me as the server wheeled the dining cart into the room. The server lifted the plate lids to ensure the food met our approval and once she received our confirmation, she then thanked us before exiting.

“Excuse me ma’am, I’ll take the bill,” Cheyenne said.

“Oh no my lady, the gentleman already took care of it.”

Cheyenne pinched me on the back before saying, “I thought I told you breakfast was on me.”

“Goodbye Miranda, thanks again for your wonderful service,” I told her, attempting to ignore Cheyenne.

“No problem Mr. Thornton, you and the missus take care,” replied Miranda.

I closed the door behind Miranda, that’s when Cheyenne and I started laughing. We found it hilarious that Miranda, a 30-something Caribbean woman, would assume we were married. Was it the energy we gave off, or was she just being polite? It didn’t matter what Miranda’s objective was, Cheyenne was feeling it, I could tell from her body language. To a degree, I was feeling it too. Excuse my indecisiveness at the moment, I really want to be with Cheyenne, but my mind keeps telling me to take it slow. On the other hand, the silence overcame me once again, that’s always the sign that everything is going to be ok.

“How long do you think we kan keep this on the low?” she asked with a softness to her voice.

“Keep what on the low,” I responded.

“Nevermind, let's eat,” she said, picking up my plate from the dining cart and handing it to me before securing hers.

Did I fuck up already? I quickly grab her free hand and give her a quick kiss. She smiled after the kiss, but I could tell she was feeling uneasy about my keeping it on the low response. Cheyenne is from the hood, and will always have my back, she knows what type of nigga I am. Now it’s up to me to make her feel protected after she has given herself to me. Fuck it, I’m going to trust in the silence, not my mind.

“We kan keep this on the low for as long as you need us to. I know niggas in the hood be gossiping and shit, I just want us to be honest with eachother. As long as we kan do that, I’m good if you are.”

I then put my index finger to my lips, signaling to her that no response was needed. She got the message and we both met in the bed to eat together. After all, I decided to eat my chicken biscuit, but before I could put a morsel of it in my mouth, Cheyenne led us in prayer. To me, that was the most memorable thing from my time spent with her, even more than the sex. Amen.