The Seduction of Ayana Cherry

She blinked her eyes sleepily to her new environment after she turned on her back, the comforter dropped to her waist so that her bare breasts hung free. She was naked beneath the covers as well. The only dressing she wore was a strip of cotton around her head to hold her weave in place. She inhaled deeply, feeling good about deciding to accept her aunt's invitation to come help her out. She'd at first thought that her mother found out about how her trick-of-a-boyfriend was sucking the juice from between her legs on a regular basis. It was a shame that her mother was looking for love when all Byron wanted was to be charged. Maybe her mother was afraid to consider the possibility that her own eighteen-year-old daughter would screw her boyfriend. It was only one time to get him hooked. From then on she'd only let him suck on her marrow. She had to admit she felt a little guilty, but figured since he was only using his tongue then it really couldn't be considered that bad. Besides, as her mother had to realize, it cost to live good in Los Angeles. There was no explaining how her GAP paycheck paid for the clothes, jewelry, breasts, and expensive hair weaves. These things were necessary to match her voluptuous ass. She was tired of looking awkward when what men really wanted was a nice arm piece, complete with all the voluptuous accessories.

Now here she was. It was beginning to be too much. The city was becoming too small. She figured she'd come out here for a minute and figure out her next move. Besides, her aunt seemed to be doing well. She'd grabbed her up a square husband and was quietly milking him dry. Last night, after they thought she'd gone to sleep, she pressed her ear to the door and listened to them argue. It was mostly about money... her spending his money. Same ol' Sherrelle, she thought to herself with a silent giggle. And he also wanted to argue about her spending too much time at strip clubs. This was something new to Ayana. She couldn't imagine her aunt at a strip club. She looked like a hood chick and could talk like one if mad enough, but she was more bourgeois than hood. Ayana waited to hear them speak about her. She wanted to know if Percy was cool with her being there, but her name never came up.

She'd gotten up at maybe two or three in the morning to get a drink of water. The window had been left open and the air parched her throat. While walking through the dining room, she was surprised to find Percy asleep on the couch. Damn, she thought to herself in the early morning light, faulting herself for missing what had to be the best part of the arguing. But even so, they're arguing didn't have the threat of violence she was used to. No matter what he said she never got the feeling that he was going to hit Sherrelle. They argued like television people, and just like television people, he ended up on the couch.

And besides this amusing drama that she felt her aunt was orchestrating anyway, there was the added bonus of the mysterious Dahji McBeth and his uncle Prince Sweetwater. She'd never heard people introduce themselves by first and last names; at least not names as colorful as theirs. She was seriously about to burst out into laughter when she'd introduced herself as Ms. Ayana Cherry. It sounded perfect coming from her lips even though she'd never considered herself a Ms, and her real last name “Jones” sounded too plain considering the circumstances. And she was proud of her aunt for not putting her on blast for changing her last name on the spot. She knew her last name had to be something sexy and fruity. By Dahji's gold trimmed smile, she knew she was on point. It was her duty to act like he was annoying.

This might work out, she thought to herself as she swung her legs from the bed. Keith Sweat was now begging through the speakers. The house was plush. The street was clean with green lawns and fancy cars parked in every driveway. Nothing but good things could happen from here, she thought to herself as she pulled on a pair of pink, low-rise HoodSweet sweats and matching half-T. She'd wanted all of three colors, but Sherrelle reminded her that she was running a business. But this didn't stop her from getting at least one of each of the sweat pants, half-T's, boy-shorts, and wife-beaters. Sherrelle had hinted that she'd bought her something else, but she'd have to work for it. Ayana didn't have a problem with this. How hard could it be selling clothes that were hot?

When she stepped from the bedroom, on her way to the bathroom, Percy was coming from the master bedroom at the end of the hallway. He was busy adjusting his tie, so he did not see Ayana at first; then he saw her and a small cloud of lust passed over his face before he could smile innocently and say good morning. It was too late though. Ayana had seen this look before from men who didn't want to be seen as wanting something they weren't supposed to have or were willing to pay for in haste, without complaint or negotiation. The thing that moved them this way had to be possessed, captured, subdued, or conquered in order to satisfy their primal urges.