Page 37 of Addicted


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I repeated my earlier question. “Is Quinton home?”

“Naw, I saw him leave out about ten minutes ago. You just missed him.”

“Oh okay, thanks!”

I turned to get back on the elevator. “Listen, he went over to the movie theater on Spring Street to catch that new Denzel movie. If you hurry, you can get there while the previews are still showing.”

“No, I don’t think so. I’ll just catch up to him some other time.”

“It’s up to you, but he went to the movies alone, and I’m sure he would appreciate the company of a beautiful woman.”

I blushed, wondering why this girl would be telling me all this. “Thanks for the tip.”

“You’re more than welcome, Zoe.”

I swung around to face her. “How do you know my name?”

“Quinton and I are real close friends, and let’s just say, he’s mentioned you.” She started giggling. “On numerous occasions, I might add. He was hoping you would come back around.”

I was so flattered, and I’m sure it showed all over my face. “Is that right?”

“Yes, and I must say, he described your ass to a tee. You are very beautiful.”

“Thanks!” The elevator finally arrived and I pulled the gate up to get on. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Zoe. By the way, I’m Diamond.”

I got on the elevator and pulled the gate back down. “Nice to meet you, Diamond.”

I pushed the button for the garage, and the elevator started going down. “And Zoe, if you ever decide to take a walk on the wild side with another woman, I’d just love to turn your fine ass out!”

I couldn’t believe she said that shit to me. All sorts of things started going through my mind. Was Quinton fucking her, or were they just friends? Did he tell her he ate my pussy? Was I about to bite off more than I could chew?

I didn’t have the answers to the questions, but nevertheless, less than five minutes later I found myself parking outside the movie theater. On the way in, I decided I would pretend to just accidentally bump into him, but I knew that wouldn’t work, since Quinton and Diamond obviously told each other everything. So I bought my ticket, went into the dark theater and didn’t even try to hide the fact I was there looking for him. I went from aisle to aisle whispering his name until I heard him call out, “Zoe, over here!”

He was sitting on the far end of an aisle, right beside the wall, and I joined him. The theater was not crowded at all, maybe thirty people tops, and everyone was spread out. “So, what brings you here?”

“Good question.” I couldn’t say the real answer. I couldn’t say I had come for some dick. “Diamond told me where to find you, so I decided to join you. Is that a problem?”

“No, hell no. I’m glad to see you. You had me worried I might not ever see you again.” He reached over and grabbed a hold of my hand, pulled it up to his lips, and kissed it.

For the next hour or so, we sat there in silence watching-He Got Game . We held hands, and I was shaking like a leaf. Quinton told me he was going to grab some nachos and a drink from the concession stand and asked me if I wanted anything. I told him I would take a soda, and he said, “Okay, be right back.”

I was desperately horny, and as soon as he disappeared up the aisle, I started rubbing my nipples through my blouse. I knew there was something wrong with me, even back then. Thinking about sex twenty-four/seven and playing with myself day and night had to be a sign— a sign I was not willing to recognize.

Quinton came back with the nachos and drinks.

I quickly returned my hands to my lap, pretending to be Ms. Innocent. But when he sat back down next to me, something snapped.

I reached over and started caressing his dick through his jeans, and he was clearly pleased. “Now, that’s what I’m talking about, Zoe. You want me to pull it out for you?”

I quickly replied, “Yes, pull it out.”

He unzipped his jeans and whipped out his dick, already hard. “Now, what are you going to do with Timex now that he’s come out to play?”

“Ummmm, Timex?”

“Yes, he takes a licking and keeps on ticking.” We both started laughing, and I almost choked on the soda I had just sucked up through a straw.

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