Lanovia knew that atoning for the grievous error of calling one man by another's name would be a hard pill to swallow and this morning Clee seemed harder than ever before. He laid back and moaned, "that's right baby, that's right" as his mind floated between this earth and heaven. Peacefulness reigned while the solitude of silence shared brief moments with the sounds of Novee's lips smacking as she breathed through her nose.
Novee, by now, was beginning to relax and feel comfortable with the situation. She found it amazing that she could let Clee reach such great depths and go where no man had gone before. But most importantly, she was in control. Novee had soothed the savage beast. Thoughts of power and philosophy began to fill her head. For instance she considered, "I guess its true what they say about a man's brain being in his pants". Further she pondered, "Were the stories of Sampson's hair and Achilles heel censored metaphors for the act that I am performing on Clee? Girl is ya crazy thinking such thoughts at this moment? Well what the hell else can I do? I literally can't speak and Clee is the only one being serviced. This is incredible! A few minutes ago, he was a raging bull and now he's as weak as a wet noodle, well, almost."
"Who's David huh? she thought mockingly "...I bet right now you can't even remember your own damn name, let alone the one I just called out!!" Novee's eyes bucked as Clee raised up and grabbed a handful of her long flowing braids in his right hand. He did the same with his left. The peace and the silence was broken. Clee saying "Do daddy right," pulled on the braids until Lanovia's face was buried in his hair. She emitted a muffled gag and tried to pull back but his grip and her braids were too strong. His entire body became one rigid muscle and he wouldn't let her go. Tears began to well in her eyes. "He had never been so rough" she thought in a hurtful panic. He allowed her to pull back, partially, for a moment and then she pulled back completely. But he continued to hold on to her braids. She tried to stand but the grip he had on her braids wouldn't allow it. "Damn it Clee let my braids go" she said to herself. In a Mexican standoff of sorts they sat there silently staring at each other for the next few minutes. Then finally, Novee took a last big gulp and spoke... "I hope you're happy. You're hurting me. Will you let my braids go please?" Clee complied with her wishes and Novee dashed for the nearest bottle of mouthwash.
She lingered in the bathroom trying to gather herself when she spotted the portable telephone. Upon picking it up she dialed an all too familiar number. When she returned to the bedroom, Clee was gone. No words, no goodbye, no note, just gone.
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