The Rum Shop

"Now you know why Caribbean men have so many children!"

He leaned back, clearly proud of himself. The woman had the decency to look like she enjoyed his attempts. After all, he had paid for dinner, for entry into the club, for all of her drinks and for the hotel room. And, as he was so generous with his wallet, she figured it would be nice of her to be generous with her body, an act that turned out to be truly a charitable gesture on her part. He turned out to be one of her least favourite type of men - the ones that think that the size of their boat means that all they have to do is float. She stopped herself from rolling her eyes, and gave the man her most charming smile, the one that deepened her dimples and made her look almost cherubic. The same smile she had used at the start of the night that had gotten her dinner, club tickets and a nice hotel room.

It had the desired effect. If the man ever doubted his ability to please a woman, he was well and truly fooled now. 'Someone really should tell him,' she thought, looking at the man's forehead. He had actually managed to break into a sweat after 3.5minutes of work? 'Not me, though.'

"Yeah man," he continued, grinning lazily. "Genetics don't lie. Us island people are the best in bed. I've never had a bad review myself. I'll bet. Where did you say you were from?"

"St Lucia," she replied, steeling herself for what she knew was coming.

"Oh a small island gyal!" She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "My parents are from Jamaica, but I'm a Hackney boy meself. Did you put your digits in my phone?"

She nodded. It was the number for a charity hotline - maybe he could give someone the happy ending she didn't get. He smiled. He was almost as handsome as his paycheck, which wasn't all that impressive. "I'll ring you then, yeah?" Her cue to leave.

Leaving after a one night stand is always the hardest part. Your clothes are all over the floor, your purse is somewhere in the person's house, and you have to figure out a way to get home without looking like you're leaving someone's house after sex. Generally speaking though, the better the sex the worse the Walk of Shame looks, so she figured she would look like she was leaving a late night bible study session.

Fortunately he hadn't ripped any of her clothing. Men are honestly so inconsiderate when they do that. Are they going to replace it? No. So what gives them the right to tear apart stockings, bite through panties and mess up dresses? They don't even offer to see buttons back on, the douchebags. She pulled up her thong (electric blue that went well with her dark skin, not that he cared) and hooked up her bra over her full bosom (largely ignored during the sham he called lovemaking). She had barely pulled her jade coloured knee length dress over her head (jewel tones complimented her complexion) when she began to be serenaded by the sounds of snoring. What a gentleman.

It didn't take her long to get a taxi, the part of London that she was in was better serviced than her ends, and soon she was speeding westward, away from Hipster Hackney and disappointing lovers and towards northwest London, the part she called home. Pointedly ignoring the cabbie, whose eyes flickered up at her reflection one too many times, she took the time to adjust her hair and think about life, something all girls do at the back of cabs at 1am.

She had timed this little soiree right. The guy had been trying to get into her pants for a few months, ever since he delivered a package (no pun intended) to the office she worked at. He was alright to look at on boring days, but her roster was full and he wasn't cute enough for her to add him to her list... until her lovers started talking about boring things like settling "settling down" and "seeing where things go". Cuts were made and suddenly the FedEx guy with the big package (pun intended) got a promoted from eye candy to potential bedwarmer.

Her and her girls did the requisite research and he came up clean; other than the typical yardie posts with a bottle of Hennessy in one hand and a cigar in the other, there were no angry exes on his social media to dodge, no pickney to call her aunty Ayanna and no drugs that she could see. Not that it meant he didn't use any. It just meant he was smart enough to not flaunt it online. In short he was ok and she was getting desperate. Unfortunately he had turned out to be less than ok. Subpar at best. And Ayanna didn't do well with mediocrity.

The cab pulled up to a block of flats in a quiet area of Willesden, not high-rise but with enough floors to need a lift. Paying the man with the money she had helped herself to from FedEx's wallet, she daintily slid out of the taxi, taking care not to flash the driver. He got enough looks for free, any more and he would have to get her dinner. Letting herself in, she rode the lift to the 5th floor, and opened the door to her cosy little flat and her not-so cosy but still little flatmate.

"A-team," she beamed, hazel eyes twinkling. "How was your date with Special Delivery?" Priya was Navy and talked like it sometimes.

"Dull as dishwater." Ayanna kicked off her heels and threw herself on the couch next to her flatmate, resting her heels on Priya's lap. "And he has a big fist but can't pack a punch."

"Disappointing," Priya sighed, rubbing Ayanna's toes. A small moan escaped Ayanna's full lips as she leant back, stretching.

"Anything I can do to help?" Skilled hands moved further up her legs, on familiar territory. Ayanna grinned, casually parting her legs to reveal a flash of blue.

"I'm not saying no."

"What are you saying?" Hands were on thighs now, making deep circular motions that caught breaths in throats and caused heat to rise from damp places.

"I'm saying I'm looking for some help." Off came the dress, on it's second floor in as many hours. Hands were replaced with lips, thighs replaced with hips. All familiar motions.

"Will it be mutually beneficial?" Priya's oversized jumper joined Ayanna's dress on the floor. Small perky breasts with large dark nipples were in view. Ayanna squirmed; undressing meant that there was a pause in Priya's movements.

"Come here and I'll show you." She demanded. Priya took her time, standing up and pulling off her flannel pyjama bottoms in an exaggerated manner, wiggling her pear shaped hips in a pseudo-sexy motion. Ayanna stood up too; she didn't do well with having to wait either.

She caught Priya's lips with her own, crushing her lips against her flatmate's, one hand gripping her neck. The other hand had snaked behind her, grabbing a full, muscled ass cheek and fondling roughly. Say what you will about war, but it's good for one thing; creating hard bodies. Meanwhile Priya's hands were undoing Ayanna's bra in one swift motion, tossing it aside, then working on the thong, pulling on the fabric, knowing the rough feel of lace on her clit would evoke the desired effect in Ayanna. Soon she was dripping and both girls knew it, the smell of bodily fluids heavy in the air. Priya pushed Ayanna back down on the couch, and helped her out of her underwear, before taking off her own, revealing a patch of well-groomed silky black hair. Straddling her, she twisted one nipple gently between index finger and thumb while sucking and nibbling on the other, knowing this was another weakness of Ayanna's. Sure enough, her groans egged her on. Priya ground her hips against Ayanna's thighs, leaving a wet trail on her lap as she continued to give her breasts the attention they so badly needed. Ayanna, feeling charitable in kind, alternated between twisting Priya's nipples and gently scraping her nails on the girl's back. Priya had recently gone from waist length to pixie cut, more's the pity. Ayanna quite liked having handlebars when she was riding. But this will do.

Grabbing a fistful of hair, she detached the woman from her chest and kissed her again, her tongue forcing it's way into her hot little mouth. Biting the woman's lower lip, she twisted her nipples slightly harder than necessary, knowing she loved the power play. "Get. Down. There." She hissed, her voice heavy with need. Priya obliged, getting off her lap and parting thick, smooth legs, revealing a shaved mound. She kissed it teasingly, inhaling her scent, before lapping at her roughly, tasting salt. Sucking on her clit, she parted her labia and inserted two fingers, digging for a familiar spot. Ayanna had to bite her lip to stop herself from crying out, she didn't want to be disturbed by any noise complaints while she was finally getting her some. Priya made a come-hither motion in the right spot and she felt that familiar wave of ecstasy wash over her whole body, toes curling in bliss. Priya sat back on her haunches, allowing Ayanna to stretch out on the couch, sated.

"You want your turn? I've not had your ass in my face in a while," Ayanna asked sleepily, her skin damp with sweat. Priya lay on top of her, idly drawing spirals on her skin.

"Meh," she shrugged. "I got mine while you were out."

"With who?"

"Neighbour in 4B. Her husband's out of town and I love a good MILF."

"You slag." Ayanna grabbed her ass again; it was like a naturally made stress ball.

"Besides," Priya added, a little too casually, "you're probably going to need it."

Ayanna picked up Priya's tone and raised an inquisitive eyebrow. Not looking at her, Priya continued.

"You got a phone call from home."

Ayanna shot up suddenly, causing Priya to topple off of her onto the floor.

"What???"

"Ouch," Priya complained, but Ayanna ignored her. Running to the phone, she madly started punching in the calling code for home. "Why the rush?"

"You know my family only call for two reasons," Ayanna hissed, hand over the mouthpiece, listening to the ringing . "And I sent them money last week... good evening mommy, how are you?"

Priya watched as her flatmate's face grew ashen, eyes filling with tears. Grabbing her bathrobe, she wrapped it round Ayanna's shoulders as the woman listened to her mother talk, then sat on the couch and waited. She didn't have to wait long before Ayanna hung up and sat heavily next to Priya, shocked.

"Everything alright?"

"No," Ayanna sighed "My grandmother just died." She hid her face in her hands, fighting back tears. "I have to go home."