“Thanks, girl! I couldn’t do it without you,” remarked the gravelly voice.
“Are you happy?”
“Hell yeah! My first tour!”
“I know. It’s amazing!”
“Let’s go out to dinner tonight.”
“I gotta get back to work, love!”
Kaleena Edmonds felt good when she ended the call. She had been dating D.A. for a little over seven years now. She supported his dream of being an actor even though his success thus had been less than moderate. She worked for a retail chain as a human resources generalist in the corporate office.
It wasn’t exactly what she’d envisioned when she got her degree – she worked out of a cubicle and took incoming calls relating mainly to worker compensation claims. She felt more like a glorified case manager than anything else. But, the job paid decent and offered good insurance. It let her have D.A. listed as a domestic partner and their c***d on a family coverage plan.
D.A., known professionally as David-Andreas Tate, currently worked in the gig economy to give him flexibility for auditions, rehearsals, and the like. He drove for two ride hailing services, was on the substitute teacher roster, and took temp work in a variety of office roles from reception to data entry to bookkeeping. He was a contributor to the household.
Kaleena and D.A. met when they were in the military. It was near the end of his six-year commitment. He was Army; she was Air Force.
The 6’3”; 210-pound D.A. made a favorable impression on the petite brownish-yellow Kaleena. They were able to talk about a variety of subjects and had tons of fun.
D.A. did not re-enlist. He stayed in the area and went to work for regional grocery chain as an accounting clerk. During that time was when he caught the acting bug. He began going to auditions and even taking classes to hone his craft.
Kaleena eventually came to the end of her military career and went from being a part-time student to a full-time one. She earned a bachelor of science in interdisciplinary studies with an emphasis on leadership. After graduation, she was still living with D.A.
They found out they were pregnant three years ago. They named the baby girl, Maia.
D.A. collected Maia from daycare and waited at home for Kaleena. He’d bought her some flowers.
“Thank you,” she smiled when he handed them to her.
“You ready to go,” he asked.
“Five minutes,” she requested running off the bedroom.
D.A. put their daughter in the car seat. He started the black Chevy Traverse SUV usually driven by his wife and backed out of the parking space.
They enjoyed chips & salsa, chicken fajitas, rice, and refried beans. Maia ate most of a k**-sized chicken and cheese quesadilla. For dessert, they had fried ice cream.
“What cities are on the tour,” she asked.
“It’s the chitlin circuit, boo,” he chuckled.
“I think they use the term ‘urban theater circuit’ these days,” snickered.
“Yeah! We’re doing Richmond, Charlotte, Columbia, A-T-L, Jacksonville, Pensacola, Mobile, Birmingham, Memphis, Nashville. Oh, and Chi-town.”
“Nice! I’m so proud of you.”
“Thanks! It’s 20 cities in all.”
“And you’re getting paid so that’s great!”
“Yeah! About $650 a week,” he said plainly.
“That’s good, sweetie. You won’t have to hope for fares or be at the mercy of temp assignments.”
That night, they crawled into bed after putting Maia to sleep. Kaleena initiated sex, but D.A. told her he was really exhausted. She thought nothing of it. They’d already done it earlier in the week. She went to sleep.
The next two weeks were hectic with D.A. rehearsing and getting ready to go out on tour. He was too busy and too tired to fuck.
Kaleena wondered if she were no longer desirable.
D.A. left to go out on the road with the stage play. He video called daily and so he could see his girls. He returned home after 5 weeks for a short break.
Kaleena became concerned when they did not fuck his first night back. She got up the next day and took Maia to daycare. She had taken the day off and went back home to spend time with her man.
D.A. cuddled with his beloved. He had postponed marriage for so long because he felt he didn’t have a stable income – even though they had a k** together.
“Are we good, baby,” she asked.
“You haven’t wanted to have sex in a minute.”
That statement sent her antennae up. “It’s been almost two months since you fucked me. Is there someone else?”
“Nah. Just got a lot on my mind is all,” reassured her.
“Yeah, gurl. Stop tripping.”
“Fuck me right now!”
“Damn! I’m not gonna perform on command.”
“Since when do you turn down sex?”
“You acting crazy, man!”
Kaleena hopped up. “I’m not crazy. You’re fucking someone else.”
“No, I’m not! I love you and Maia.”
“That doesn’t mean you’re not fucking one of those bitches on the road. Who is she?”
“There ain’t nobody else. Damn!”
“Give me your phone,” she demanded.
“Your phone. Give it to me. Prove your telling the truth.”
“If you don’t trust me, then this won’t work.”
“DO NOT try to turn this around on me. It’s not adding up, D.A.!”
“If you’ve made up your mind already, nothing I do can change it.”
“So it is someone else.”
“I come home and this is the welcome I get. I’ll be back,” he left the apartment.
Kaleena fumed. She got onto Facebook and decided to try to break D.A.’s passcode. She achieved success. She went through contact after contact and came up with nothing inappropriate. She decided she had overreacted. She clicked on a message between D.A. and the play’s writer, producer, & director.
The last message from the guy seemed ominous. It read, ‘If you really want this part, you’ll need to get in some of that private rehearsal time I offered. Call me when you’re serious.’
She was confused. There had never been any hint of additional one-on-one coaching. Though it wasn’t outside the realm of possibility because the creative type did have a degree in drama & theatre from Norfolk State.
Kaleena clicked on the profile belonging to Tremayne N. Valentine. He had lots of images showing scenes from his stage productions. Then, she searched his name. She read a few news articles – nothing major. Kaleena clicked on a link to a blog.
The author was alleging that Tremayne only offered her husband a leading role in one of his plays after he finally agreed to let the playwright perform oral sex on him. She claimed that her husband entered into a sexual relationship in return for steady income and work. And, there were comments below. A few people responded saying he was a whore you loved bedding straight men.
Kaleena closed her laptop. She waited patiently.
D.A. returned. “Hey, babe! You better now,” he leaned down for a kiss.
“You tell me. Did Tremayne make you fuck him for the part?”
“Oh my god, David-Andreas Tate! Do you not know that is a dead giveaway that you’re about to lie to me.”
“I read all about Tremayne Valentine and how he’s been known to trade casting for dick.”
“It’s not like that.”
“So why was he saying you two needed private rehearsal time?”
“He didn’t tell me that.”
“Yeah he did! He messaged it to you on Facebook.”
“You hacked my account? I can’t believe you!”
“No. You’re not wiggling outta this. Did you have sex with him.”
“Look. You’re tripping.”
“Give me your phone.”
D.A. handed it over willing.
Kaleena went through it. There was nothing in text messages that was telling. She checked a couple of other apps and found nothing incriminating. As she was about to hand it back a message came through from the director. She tapped it.
‘I deleted vid you made of me on my phone.’
“What video,” her nostrils flared.
“So he just texted you all out the blue for the first time ever about some vid?”
“I guess it’s a wrong number.”
“You think I got boo-boo the fool written on my forehead.”
She threw the phone at him. She grabbed her laptop and said, “I know the last four digits of his number. I’m gonna look at your history online.”
“Come on, man! Why you acting,” D.A. pleaded.
“Cause it’s true. Tell me now. Cause when I see it on our account, I’m gonna blow this shit up.”
“Babe! It was just once,” he sighed and fell onto the couch defeated.
“I knew it! You fucked that fag! Did you like it?”
“Not really,” he said. “I just felt guilty.”
“And he hasn’t been harassing you on tour.”
“We should sue him,” she decided.
“We’re not doing that. I’ll get blackballed.”
“But we can get paid.”
“Not that much and I’ll never work again.”
“Well, I’ll forgive you. But I don’t want you going back out on tour with him.”
“I can’t quite the show now,” he barked. “We’re getting good reviews. People say I’m pretty good. This is my shot.”
“What about us,” Kaleena asked.
“What about us,” D.A. glared at her.
“It’s me or acting.”
“Don’t do that! I’m not going to fuck around with no ultimatum.”
“Pick one. I’m serious.”
“It’s my dream to be an actor. I’m not giving that up. I’ll take care of my daughter, but I guess we’re through.”
“It’s that fucking easy for you to walk away, you bastard!”
“I ain’t nobody’s bastard. You can calm that shit down now.”
She pushed him.
“Stop! I’m not about to fight you. I’m outta here.”
“I hate you,” she fumed.
D.A. got in his metallic gray 2012 Dodge Charger. He drove for a while. He arrived in a quiet neighborhood and pulled into the driveway.
The homeowner opened the door.
“My wife thinks she figured it out. She’s mad as hell,” he said.
“Did you confirm it,” inquired the producer.
“Want your dick sucked?”
The short light-skinned effeminate man that wore green contacts wrapped his pink lips around the 7½-inch cock.
D.A. spanked the soft bubble butt. “I guess I’ll be fucking you more often from now on.”
“I told you. You can stay here until you get your own place.”
“You don’t care that I’m married?”
“I thought she was just your girlfriend.”
“Well, we been together for eight years.”
“So common law. Oh well,” he shrugged his shoulders and went back to the blow job.
“Oh my god,” moaned D.A. “That head is fiyah!”
“Fuck me, Daddy!”
Mizz Valentine stood up and leaned over the arm of the couch. He wiggled his beckoning tail.
D.A. spat on the pink hole and inserted a finger to loosen it up. He put the tip of his cock at the anus and pushed inside.
Valentine yelped, “Oh shit!”
“You like that?”
“Yeah, nigga! I like it. You like this faggot booty.”
“More than you know.”
“Did I turn your straight dick out?”
“Oh yeah! I had never thought about fuckin’ no dude.”
“Fuck me like a girl!”
“This ass is better than pussy! Ah shit!”
“Beat this fag pussy up,” begged the sissy entertainer.
“Yeah, gurl! That’s what I’m talking bout! Get this dick!”
“I love it!”
D.A. pumped. Valentine took it. The tall man erupted inside of the supple onion ass.
“Are you spending the night,” the playwright asked.
“I guess I am.”
“Great! I’m making spaghetti & meatballs for dinner.”