Devil in a red dress dances with Jazz

Spring showers drenched her stilettos. The anger is felt in her dagger like heels as grimy water from the streets splashed on her fish net stockings. The color of her eyes were gradually becoming as red the dress that adorned her modeled frame. The sound of her apartment door slamming sealed the deal – it was over before it began. Ebony hates Jazz. Jazz did not play as fair as she wanted, thus the storm outside her windows echoed a loud cry for a broken heart.
Over 3 hours ago, Jazz invited her to the lounge close to his Loft. It was the place to be seen and a haven of after work drunkards looking for a get-away. Friday night rituals filled the floors and music orchestrated the movements of tipsy muscles. The dim glow hid the ugly faces as yellow smiles glow a white hue. Everybody was somebody through words and money. Heavy tipsters attracted the eyes of gold diggers. Men with hidden self esteem issues wore shoes worth more than their penises. Jazz was different. A well made man, the eligible bachelor of the city. Ebony is beautiful – the type of woman Jazz wanted to be represented with. He felt like somebody with her on his toned, chocolate arms. They ate; they dined with crystal glasses of fine wine. Drunk in lust, Jazz proceeded to offer Ebony his wet tongue on the dance floor – she wanted more.
Brian and I joined them for a night out – Ebony was trying her best to introduce us two into a closer bond. Brian loved what he saw in me, but I wasn’t too fond of him. An odd fellow he was – he spoke of his dog as if he was married to the Bitch. A few weeks back on our first introduction, he went as far as having the pet lick his face. It was a phlegmy episode of unnatural romance. I could not stomach a kiss from him after witnessing Brian and his Bitch play “catch” the spit ridden ball. Ebony insisted that Brain should be given a chance; after all, he is a Doctor, a catch of the best. The affair consisted of meals – no touchy, touchy for Brian. Jazz on the other hand was the greatest catch of all. A female once bragged that his member was as long as size 11.5 shoes and highly functional. Another slut that’s been around the block since Jesus was a boy listed his width as big as his bank account. Ebony didn’t care what it looked like; she just didn’t want to be alone that night but Jazz wanted more.
He watched her as she slithered in with a silky red dress. Legs glowing like a pot of gold and black hair moulded into a carefully sculptured bun. She resembles all he wanted in a woman from head to carefully manicured toes. Thunder rolled as he opened the door. For a moment, he thought it was the sound of his rapidly pounding heart. Fighting to control the escalating lump in his pant crutch, he quickly led her to the table for a seat. Images of positions he toyed with swirled his filthy mind. Ebony enjoyed his company – he made her laugh. He enjoys her sexy presence as jealous men looked on. Who does this guy think he is with a better looking woman? This was a man about to make his move.
Within 2 hours of the lounge atmosphere, we ventured back to Jazz and Brian’s loft. Ebony was a bit reluctant at first – she felt the eager tensions in Jazz’s vibes. He wanted to strip her naked of her red dress. I grabbed her hands and told her to relax, have some fun for a change. An advice I would only follow if drunk with Brian around... I swore I saw that Bitch’s hair on his Armani suit – Yuck!
Back at the loft and Jazz made his move on Ebony – she was lost in the kiss. I was getting lost in the bottle of Grand Marnier and Brian was looking finer by the minute – doggie hairs and all. Ebony and Jazz giggled their way into the bedroom. He unwind her hair as he kissed her softly, tracing the line of her collar bone with his tongue. She gasped for air. His hands lifted her dress to clasp its grip on her thighs. Moaning got louder and aggression in the heat of passion possessed their emotions. A slight rip occurred to the crutch of her fishnet stocking for easy access. He grinds on her wet vaginal area. Before penetration, she pushed him away – “I do not want to have sex tonight” she says. He refused to listen, holding her tight, kissing her neck with whispers of her beauty. She wasn’t having it – a tease she was. Jazz had tricks up his sleeves and swiftly made a move to plan B – having her clit for desert. Jazz arose with a wet, slimy face of joy and she was weakening as her legs continued to shiver. They were meant for each other... chemistry so thick no other man or woman can break it apart – so one may perceive. Ebony stopped saying no and Jazz lifted her to the bed. He happily kissed every part of her body while stripping her naked like a priceless gift. Just as she was about to place her lips to his enlarged, juicy cock – the auto-voicemail machine on the phone set to silent ring played:
“Hey Jazz, it’s Barb - thank you for a good time last night; we had the best sexxx ever! It was unfortunate to see you with that new woman in your life tonight – hope she can swallow your seeds like I do, however, I doubt that prissy miss is able to. Guess I will be seeing you soon for a fix, maybe this time for a discount charge. Also, I left my blue, wet panties under your pillow – give it a sniff Playa! Love ya!”
Ebony wanted confirmation by lifting the pillow. A slap to the eyes, there laid the dirty panties of Jazz’s slut. Somehow, I pictured this moment felt like watching Brian slobbering kisses with his smiley tongue Bitch. Jazz was speechless, sadden and knew he lost a chance at keeping this beauty he worked so hard to get – all due to his weakness for prostitutes. Ebony slipped into her red dress, placed her hair in a ponytail just before punching Jazz in the temple of his head. He was out like a light and so was his softened dick. She quickly left the Loft – to face the storm.
Guess such encounters are the reason why this Devil in a Red Dress belongs to No One.
Devil in a red dress
Impressed his seeds
Brain cells embedded with weeds
He inhaled her scent
Money well spent on fine wines
They dined
Under her red dress
Saluted her breasts
Soft skin, trimmed vagina garden
Lips of wet, tight fleshy lanes
It is here he visualizes being
To be in her rapture, capturing
Gripping on to her fish net stockings
His nature salutes her beauty
Stiffness of a rock, describes his mentality
He is impressed
In the presence of that devil
In a red dress
He is not the only one
Many men have been there before
Trying to use their penises as keys to open her door
Left in a fetal position on the floor
Staring under her red dress
They can see, yet sperms cannot touch
Private parts may brush areas during a dance
No rush
Teasing with a trance
This devil in a red dress
Belongs to no one.


Written by Yolanda T. Marshall
Short Story dedicated to Liza Maria