Tiempo verbal

Stephanie Koboyashi was part Japanese, part black (her

father’s side) and she was born on a strawberry farm up above Seattle, on San Pedro Island. Her mother had been a part of the settlement there, Jap Town they called it, a place where Japanese immigrants and Japanese-Americans lived as one. Stephanie’s father was once a reporter, a CNN correspondent straight out of Brooklyn, when he visited the islands to cover a story of a shipwreck there. Her dad met her mother, one thing led to another, and the result was the birth of a daughter, Stephanie.

Stephanie was a fine, mocha-brown woman, with those Asian eyes, and full luscious lips. Her hair was jet black and fantastically long, and she maintained a body that could’ve been shaped and designed by an over- imaginative sculptor.

Stephanie helped Stew orchestrate and manage his flock of website beauties and generally had carte blanche to walk into the master bedroom—any of his master bedrooms around the country, that is—unannounced. It wasn’t until she was fully in

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the room that Stephanie looked to her right to see just how busy Stew was.

Oops, she mouthed. She started to back track out of the

room, after all, this was the boss, responsible for everyone ’s financial well-being. He’d, probably want some privacy.

Even as Misty was engrossed in this (so- far) 10- minute audition, Stew put his hand up, stopping Stephanie in her tracks. He indicated by hand gestures alone that she should stay in the bedroom. Lock the door behind you.

Stephanie did as Stew directed. And yet she couldn’t help but to look into his eyes; to look anywhere else might be too obvious, as if she was the one with something to be ashamed about. Now, it was Stew that made eyes at Stephanie, so as to say

“Check this girl out, can you believe the sound effects?”

Stephanie nodded back at him, studying the encounter. “Does she have papers?” Stephanie mouthed. Safety came first in this business.

Stew read his friend loud and clear, neither of them interrupting Misty and the loving attention she was giving to Stew. He hooked his thumb over in the direction of the papers and photos. Stephanie nodded and eased over to the bed. She gave immediate approval once she saw the clean bill of health. She had long warned Stew about taking sexual risks that could end his life and the dream. It didn’t make sense to give up his life over a quick thrill.

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Meanwhile, Stew made another gesture, encouraging Stephanie to come over and stand behind him. When she did, he whispered, “Hang out for a minute. I wanna see you two together.” Stew had his hand caressing the new girl’s face while he twisted his upper body to whisper to Stephanie over his shoulder. Stephanie cracked a mischievous smile and stepped back out of the way, leaning up against the wall, not far behind where Misty was kneeling.

Stew took a bolder stance now, more confident with both hands propped on top of Misty’s head. His legs locked into that chauvinistic stance while his eyes locked on Stephanie’s. Yes, he was feeling cocky. Yes, he was in total control here and, yes, this new piece of ass just walked in the door, and,, within minutes... without so much as a deep kiss, the girl was on her knees, slurping on him like he was human lollipop.

Stephanie was comfortable enough with Stew to watch this and smile that slick smile. Actually, she was proud of her boss and his accomplishments. So, as long as he was safe… so long as the girl (whoever she was) was willing, then she was all for him getting his freak on.

Mmm-mmm-mmm… you are surely living your dream,

mister. You deserve this. I love you so fucking much! Stephanie

began thumbing her own nipple as she saw Stew reaching the finishing point. She had to admit this was a hot sight to see.

“Yes, Misty, you surely are talented.” Stew said as looked down at his new friend. He didn’t want her to stop until he... Not until the cows came home.

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Stew looked back up at Stephanie now, at her crooked smile and folded arms. It looked as if she was waiting her turn. Now was when Stew would remain strong. Now, was when he wouldn’t show the weakness of many men, the funny facial expressions, the buckling at the knees. And none of the sudden responses like “OH GOD,” or “YES…YES-YES!!!” After all, it wasn’t like this was romance.

Maintaining his cocky composure, Stew saw this occasion as somewhat of a challenge. He wanted Stephanie to see this; for her to know just how focused he could be; how he was able to look at her, even thinking about whatever else as he experienced his orgasm. And it wasn’t that Stew needed to prove anything to Stephanie, because Stephanie had been in this very same position on so so many occasions. But just to exhibit his raw power. His mojo. And as the electricity rattled Stew, as it charged through his body and made his eyes wanna twitch, made him wanna black out, he kept that locked gaze on Stephanie. He accepted these surges in his body as boosts, not the tapping of his vital resources or the expenditure of his energy. This, for Stew, was empowerment. He was the man!

Misty was finishing up, humming her appreciation as she milked him dry.

Stew’s eyes dropped back downward. “There’s no more soda in the Coke bottle baby, damn!” Stew exhaled quietly. “Candice didn’t tell a lie. You are Heather Hunter!”

“Who’s that?” Misty asked in her sexy voice, looking up at Stew as her lips left his flesh with that last suction sound.

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“Never mind,” Stew said, shaking his head at her innocence. “Misty, meet Stephanie.”

“Oh. God… I—,” Misty’s eyes filled with shock and fear. “No need for words, sweetheart,” said Stephanie, still with that slight Japanese accent hanging in her words. Stephanie approached to help Misty to her feet while Stew closed his robe and picked up the photos, the video and doctor’s letter off of the bed. He circled around to the entertainment center, close to the bedroom window and slid the video tape into a video tape player. Then he slumped down in the leather La-Z Boy recliner so that he had an exclusive view of the bed, the TV and the beachfront.

In Misty’s eyes, Stew could see a void—how she was looking for a word from him, or maybe an acknowledgement, at least. But as far as he was concerned there was none to be given. Meanwhile, Stephanie was fiddling with Misty’s hair and at the same time checking her out from every angle.

“I told her about the waxing and shaving, Steph. You can go over that with her later. But… maybe you’d like to get to know her better in your own way.”

“Mmm hmm,” Stephanie murmured, standing behind Misty, checking her out. “Nice ass, too” Stephanie said.

Misty swung her head around, her hair flinging wildly, as she followed Stephanie’s movements. She was overcome with feelings of discomfort, fear. What in the world are these people

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Stew chuckled, amused by Misty’s response, and fascinated by Stephanie’s actions. He watched intently while Stephanie unbuttoned her sundress, and let it fall easily fall to the floor. He smiled, when Stephanie moved in behind Misty, pulling the girl back into her, until their bodies were seamless. Leaning back he enjoyed the show that Stephanie was starting. She kissed Misty’s right shoulder, while reaching around with her right hand in between the young girl’s legs. Stephanie tugged at Misty’s hair until her head arched back ever so much, twisted enough for their lips to meet. Stew watched all this with pleasure, knowing that while they kissed they also shared the taste of him. The juices of him.

“But I… I’m not—”

Stephanie cut her short by putting her hand to Misty’s mouth. “None of us are. Its just for show, baby. Keep that in mind. Just a show to make the boss happy.” Stephanie glanced over at Stew, and Misty followed her gaze. It didn’t seem he was watching, and so Stephanie turned back to Misty. The two of them continued with the deep tongue kissing and touching.

Stew was checking out Misty’s videotape now, with the volume turned too low to hear. On the TV screen, Misty seemed to be giving an introduction. Then she and her ex-boyfriend joined hands. That was the point where Stew cut off the TV. He’d only wanted a look at the guy. It was a man thing, he’d just wanted to know what she’d been working with. And in that instant, he decided the competition was irrelevant.

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While these calculations and others were going through Stew’s mind, he watched Stephanie as she led Misty onto the bed. Stephanie was in complete control, and it made Stew realize that she’d come a long way from the woman that left Jap Town. She’d transformed from the woman who vowed I don’t

wanna be Japanese, into one who’d pledged complete devotion

to Stew. She was willing to follow him wherever he took her.

Is there anywhere else in the world that this goes on?

Stew wondered as the two women became more familiar with each other. Is there anybody out there who is as privileged as

me... experiencing this freaky shit? Straight up satisfaction guaranteed? Is there anyone who can make things like this happen on a whim? Is this even in a movie I missed?

Even if this was going on in some other place in the world… maybe some hut, with a sizeable harem in Egypt or Kenya… or Bangladesh.

So what, Stew told himself. This is happening here. This is happening now, and for me. In his eyes, nothing else mattered.

It seemed nothing could go wrong. Over the next few days they’d be busy with the video shoots, filming girl on girl action. Exclusive shots of virgins and non- virgins. That’s all Platinum Dolls pushed. And after the shoots, they’d be off to Canada to set up a new leg of the Platinum Dolls dynasty. And with all of that going on, there were still seven other locations online and kickin’ ass. Platinum Dolls was going strong in New York, North Carolina, Washington D.C., Atlanta, Seattle, Texas, and of course here in Malibu. Over the next six months, Stew

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expected to turn up the volume and do something in the Caribbean. Maybe even Africa. And, if he could manage it, he’d maybe set up a home close to Buckingham Palace. There seemed to be no limit to what could be done or where he could go.

The sighs, the whispers and soft cries continued on as Stew contemplated his future. The future of Platinum Dolls. And as he turned to lose himself in the horizon, that distant demarcation between water and sky, he couldn’t help but know that he was chained to this monster that had once been only a dream. He was tied in to a business agreement that he no longer wanted, handcuffed to partners whom he no longer cared for.

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4

BY 8PM that night, the Malibu party was in full swing. There were twenty-five women in all, including Misty. Stephanie had taken the new girl around earlier to meet everyone and get comfortable. All the while, there was a video camera that roamed and recorded.

Timmy was down on the beach in a lounge chair watching, a group of the girls play volleyball. Afterwards, the rest of the crowd that watched, and others who were up in the house, congregated outside near the campfire. They formed a

Soul Train line so that each girl could strut her stuff, dancer or

not. The boom box by Timmy’s side was already pumpin’ old school jams by Biggie, 2Pac, Wu Tang and Jay Z… The SOS

Band, Michael Jackson, The Gap Band and some “artists

unknown.” They played club joints too. This was the music that was familiar to all in attendance. It was music they had all heard at some point in their lives—the soundtrack of a generation.

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“Everything cool boss?” Asked Goose, his muscles pushing through his T-shirt.

Stew was there on the terrace, leaning over the railing, half oblivious of all the goings on, the excitement inside and outside of the beach house. A thin crescent of the moon glowed overhead.

“Sure,” he answered, looking over at Goose. “You need me?”

“Nope. Just checkin’ on you. Hey, Steph,” he said as Stephaine came through the patio door.

“Hey, Goose. Can you get any goddamned bigger?” joked Stephanie.

Goose laughed, and then left to continue watching over the girls.

“For you,” Stephanie said, handing Stew a glass of champagne.

“Didn’t we already toast over the food?”

“Of course we did. But that was for them. This is for you and I.”

Stew took the glass and gave a second look up and down Stephanie’s body. She had showered and changed since the earlier activities. Now, she was wearing a white evening gown that hugged every curve and left little to the imagination. Her hair was swept up into a bun. There was something so unpredictable about her; a certain something that never ceased to amaze him. But Stew usually kept those thoughts to himself. He didn’t want to wear out the compliments or make her feel

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exclusive, although she was. Sometimes, he’d decided long ago, you just had to let a person wonder. Just had to leave them guessing. Keep em’ sharp.

“Little change in pace tonight?” Stew asked as the two of them tapped glasses.

Stephanie eased up closer into Stew’s personal space. She hooked her arm around his so that they were this close although still able to sip. “I s’pose,” she replied.

“So… what’re we toasting to?” Stew asked.

“To the most incredible man… to the most incredible lover I’ve ever known…”

“You’ve ever known? You’ve had, like, two men in all your life Steph—and one of those two is me. Stop bullshittin’ me,” he said laughing.

“I know… but it just sounds good. Shhh… you’re ruining my moment.”

“Excuse me,” Stew said, lost in the eccentricity of Stephanie; her chinky-eyes, her sensual lips, and hair that he loved to get tangled in… hair that many times roamed down her back, sometimes in that single braid he liked; and other times pulled over her shoulder to fall between her healthy breasts, such as it had earlier in his bedroom.

“I wanted to say something special to you… so please… bare with me. Back on San Piedro Island my only dream was to have my own strawberry farm. I knew nothing about love, except for what my mother told me. What I knew about life was only what the elders told of… the racism… how Americans

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hated the Japanese—especially after Pearl Harbor. I began to hate myself and all that formality of doing things quietly, being docile, with a spirit of silent dignity. I disclaimed my heritage. And just when things turned hopeless… those dead-end jobs in Seattle, the bastard who tricked me out of my virginity... just when I wanted to die, you came into my life, Stew. You changed the world for me. I had new vision. New hope. True love. You are my true love, Stewart Gregory. I’d die for you.”

“Don’t say that, Steph—”

“But I would. If you said the word, I’d meet my eternity and I’d be happy. I’d be content that I’d spent a part of my life with you.”

Stew was dumbfounded. It was a spell Stephanie had on him. Some kind of goddamned witchcraft. Had to be, because Stew just never got this way. He was stubborn. Tough, full of ego and ego’s blood. He chose not to be mushy. Chose not to love. But here was Stephanie, giving herself to him. Again.

“Should we sip now?” Stew asked, having little else to say and wanting desperately to lighten up the moment.

They finished their champagne and Stephanie took his glass. The two embraced and shared a loving kiss.

“I know you love me, Steph. But we’re gonna live forever.

You hear me? You, me, and whatever craziness we design.

Forever. And I… I do…”

“Come on you two. Join the party,”

It was Leslie who interrupted the two from the adjoining terrace. The girls from inside the house were strutting out in

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bikini bathing suits, headed down two flights of steps to the beach. Stephanie put a gaze on Leslie as if the girl had been smokin’ rocks, to come and interrupt her moment. Stew, on the other hand, was glad for the interruption. He had almost said it. He had really almost said it; almost said what was in his heart, something totally against his mantra.

Fuck no, I don’t love these hoes.

On the beach, close to the volleyball net, the barbeque grill, and a blazing campfire, a lounge chair had been set up for Stew. Stephanie was kneeling there in the sand beside him. Leslie was standing behind, applying lotion, giving Stew a massage about his neck and shoulders. Here and there she’d reach down further to grab his chest and arms as well. In the meantime, there was a sort of ongoing presentation. The music set the pace with beats and rhythms while the campfire flickered into the night sky.

“My name is Crystal. Uhh…

and I’m from Frisco, Uhh, and I can party hard, and I can also disco, Uhh… “I like to shake my thang, and I’m a Cancer, Uhh, Just say the word

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And as Crystal took her turn in this spontaneous rapping that was going on, she certainly did shake her thang. Her thong barely covered her pubic area, and her stiff C-cup breasts bounced happily in the bikini top. The next girl marched forward now, clapping and keeping time with the others.

“My name is Tuti, Uhh, and I’m from Oakland, Uhh, I like to party and

sometimes you’ll catch me smokin, Uhh I live for foreplay,