Molex

Monique cried out in frustration as she got Alex's voicemail. immediately, she hit redial and put the phone to her ear.

"Pickup, pickup, pickup, pickup, pickup..."

Hi, you've reached Alexander.

I can't come to the phone right now, but..."

"FUUUUUUUUUCK!" she screamed at the top of her lungs. Her voice sounded like a banshee as it echoed through her apartment.

How had she fucked up this badly? How did she let things come to this? She should've listened to Toni. She shouldn't have ever given Trey the time of day. His snaky ass should've been blocked months ago.

Why didn't she block him?

Her thumbs feverishly tapped out the text:

Lexxy.

Call me.

Pls!

We need 2 talk.

Even as she typed that, she saw how trite it sounded. When has that statement ever been followed by something good? It's either a precursor to the delivery of devastating news, or a desperate plea for a chance to half-ass explain past wrongdoings.

He was probably disgusted by her. The way he worshipped her with his eyes would more than likely be a thing of the past. Now, he probably saw her as nothing more than a slut.

No!

No!

No!

No!

NO!

God, no!

She couldn't lose that. The best part of her day was that gaze. After all they'd been through, all the fun they had together, all the feelings they'd shared...

This could not be the end.

Her phone rang, shaking her from her grief. Her heart jumped, and she almost dropped the phone hurriedly picking it up to look at the screen.

Lexxy?

Her heart sank. It wasn't Lexxy. The only thing worse than NOT being Lexxy was who it was.

It was Trey.

She knew she shouldn't answer it. She had bigger things to worry about. But this mother fucka...

"WHAT...DO...YOU...WANT...FROM MEEEEEEE?!" She hollered into the phone at the top of her lungs. She yelled so loud that her neck hurt, her head hurt, and her body felt drained.

She didn't care though. Rage had pushed her past the point of giving a fuck. She hoped she broke his fucking eardrums.

In his usual "Trey" demeanor, he chuckled confidently and said, "You know what I want, mama. I want you."

"You can't have me, you egotistical dick! I've moved on. I'm with Alex. Get it through your fucking head!"

Once again, he chuckled at her, like her declarations for another man were amusing to him. "Come on, Mo." He said slowly, his patronizingly calm voice taunting her. "This clown ain't the guy for you. He could never give you what I gave you. Look for yourself. The evidence is right there in your hands."

She wanted to kill his smug ass. And not ha-ha kill him either. She literally wanted to feel his heart stop beating.

"I'm...NOT...yours!" she said, her entire body shaking with uncontrollable rage. "You fucking colossal dick! I hate you! Don't you get that? I fucking...hate the ground you walk on...the air you breathe! I hate the fact that I ever let you see me naked! I hope you die screaming in pain!"

She just rambled on and on, spewing the most hateful shit she could think of. But Trey just laughed at her, like she was an insignificant toddler throwing a temper tantrum.

"You know..." he said calmly. "You over there mad at me, but if your boy was half the man you say he is, what we did wouldn't bother him."

With that, she shrieked, "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!" into the mouthpiece before hanging up and tossing it next to her on the couch.

She sat there, crying, with her knees in her chest and her fingers practically pulling out her hair. In desperation, she picked her phone back up and called another contact.

"Hey girl? What's up?" Toni's naturally jovial voice greeted her. It was a shock when a sobbing, wailing Mo answered her.

"Toni, I fucked up!" she cried. "I shoulda listened to you, but I fucked it all up!"

__________________________________________

A WEEK EARLIER:

"Oh shit! That feels good!" Alex groaned; his words barely audible.

Monique increased her pace. Squishy sounds filled her living room as her hand consistently worked up and down his cock.

She was sitting back on the couch. He was seated between her open thighs; his back leaning into her. She held him from behind, almost maternally, with both her legs and her arms wrapping around him in a hug.

But she was doing something very unmotherly in his lap.

"Hold on, Lexxy." She encouraged as she softly peppered kisses on the back of his neck. At the same time, she jerked his rigid cock. Her soft hand squeezing it as she reached the head, only to slip back down the shaft to the base. This action was done repeatedly. Slowly, quickly, using twisting motions. It was driving him crazy.

"That's it. Control yourself baby. Hold out for Mama Mo."

Her words were nothing but a breath, but they filled his ears. His eyes were clamped closed, his head pointed up towards the ceiling. He was trying to hold his composure, but it was getting hard (pun intended) to keep it together.

"I can't. Not with you whispering in my ear." He admitted through gritted teeth.

Instead of having mercy on him, she gave him another light kiss, right at the base of his neck. She then giggled and said, "Yes you can. Stay with me, Lexxy. You're doing so good."

"Slow down!" he begged. "And stop saying my name."

She licked his ear. Then, in a raspy whisper filled with seduction, she said, "Lexxy." To add to it, her hand gripped tighter as she sped up the strokes.

Squish squish squish squish squish

"Mo, I can't..."

"Lexxy."

Squish squish squish

"Please..."

With an orgasmic moan right in his ear, she said, "Okay. Now baby. Mama Mo gives you permission. Blow your load in my hand!"

Squish squish

The cock she was gripping suddenly became rock hard before erupting like a volcano. His hips bucked wildly, and he completely lost it.

"FUUUUUCK!" he howled loudly, yet helplessly. She watched with fascinated interest. Each time his hips bucked, a thin geyser of cum shot up, only to fall and splat wherever it landed.

It went everywhere with no discrimination. Some of it got on his stomach, some ended up on his thighs, and some dribbled down her hand like melted ice cream.

"Holy...shit." He said between the heavy breaths he was taking. He slumped back into her and leaned on her lifelessly, like she just jacked the energy right out of him.

She giggled as she reached for the box of tissues she strategically stowed next to them. The gooey cum was dripping down her fingers, and she needed to clean it up before it messed up her couch.

When her hand was cleaned up, she pulled more tissue out to wipe his thighs. From her vantage point, she couldn't really see much, so she got what she could.

"That was..." he tried to speak, but his words trailed off.

She kissed him again on his neck and hugged him with both her arms and legs.

"I know." she said with a victorious smile. "And you lasted for...like...15 minutes this time."

He laughed a little. "I'd last longer if you didn't say my name like you do. You know...in that voice. That always gets me."

"I know." she said, a coy smile on her lips. "For one, my arm was getting tired. Jacking you off is a workout! And for two, when you start hitting that spot during sex, I'm gonna call out your name. If you're gonna keep up with me, you're gonna have to push through that."

She was just teasing him with that last line. Unfortunately, it fell in line with some of his insecurities. He didn't say anything, just shrugged it off, but that seedling was subconsciously added to his forest of doubts.

Monique scooted from behind him, grabbed the box of tissue, and tossed it to him so he could finish cleaning himself up. She took a quick trip to the bathroom, and when she returned, he asked, "Hey, you want me to..."

His question trailed off, but his eyes looked to her crotch. She walked up to him, leaned on the arm of the couch to put her face at his level, and kissed him softly. With a smile, she said, "No, I'm good, bae. This was for you."

"But I don't like leaving you hanging." He said, a bit dejected.

She gave him a mock pout, then winked. She probably should've told him that she was cramping and could be getting her period at any moment, but she didn't. Instead, she just said, "Don't you worry. There's gonna be plenty of opportunities to get me."

Alex inwardly sighed. He knew she meant well, but he couldn't help but to feel a bit emasculated. The very notion that she had to "train" him to last longer in bed was a bit insulting. In the gym was one thing. This was something else. Yes, the hand job was awesome. Yes, he was lucky to have a girlfriend who was so communicative about what she wanted.

But...damn.

What he didn't realize was that the hand job wasn't just her "training" him. She did it because she wanted to drive him crazy with lust; to watch him cum; to see him react to her with no thought of how "unmanly" he looked. Other guy's she'd been with seemed more concern with appearing "in control". They stoically fucked her, and only communicated to let her know what they wanted her to hear. She'd get dirty talk all night, but they never allowed themselves to lose control under her touch.

But Lexxy was so responsive! He moaned loudly, he begged, he told her that what she was doing was driving him so insane that he couldn't hold on anymore. There was a different kind of enjoyment that came with knowing that your touch had so much power over your man. Most alpha men don't like relinquishing that power. In their defense, in the wrong hands, that power can be used for manipulation. That's what Trey did to her.

But in a pair of loving hands, it can add a selfless dimension to lovemaking. It made her enjoy

him,

not what he did

to her.

When they were together sexually, what she looked forward to most was his face, not her own orgasm.

"Will I see you at the gym tomorrow?" she asked as she walked off towards the kitchen to get two bottled waters from the fridge. "You've missed our last three appointments."

"Yeah...about that..."

She was walking towards him but stopped short. Stomping her foot disappointedly, she whined, "What? Lexxy! Come on! I miss working out with you."

"I know, but..." he was looking for a delicate way to say this without sounding like an asshole. There was none, so he just came out with, "...considering...you know...everything...it feels kind of wrong to

pay

you to train me."

She looked at him with a "Duh" shrug and incredulously said, "Um...it's my job."

"Yes, technically but..."

"Not technically. Actually."

He sighed but couldn't help chuckling. He was already in this one pretty deep. Might as well go for broke.

"If you were a hooker..."

"EXCUSE ME?"

"Hear me out, hear me out." He said, expecting the reaction he got. She huffed, put the waters down on the coffee table, and crossed her arms. She stood there, impatiently tapping her foot, but listening.

When he had her attention, he continued, "If you were a hooker, and we became a couple, would you charge me for sex? If you were a nurse, and I got sick, would you charge me to take care of me? The same question could apply for lawyers, chefs, masseuses...anything really."

She glared at him for a couple more seconds before saying, "You could've made your point just using the nurse example."

"I know." he said with a playful smile. "But you're kinda hot when you're mad."

"Boy, shut up!" she said as she rolled her eyes and flopped down next to him. However, she was smiling too.

The two of them talked about it. Alex was going to fire her as a trainer (he didn't really need one at this point), and he'd just come to the gym a few times a week when she was off the clock. Of course, she'd have to explain everything to Naomi.

Um...yes Naomi, that's right.

Alex will no longer be paying for workout sessions because I'm fucking him.

There were, however, two stipulations that she gave him. One: the money he was paying the gym for her was going to go directly to his "move out fund". No negotiation.

Two: he had to come with her and try out her new thing. She started kickboxing with an old family friend, and she was dying to get him in the ring. No, she didn't want to beat him up, but she wanted to show him how awesome she was at it.

He agreed to both, though the second stipulation took some cajoling.

As it turned out, them working out together wasn't that strange. Only Naomi knew Monique wasn't training him. To most people who were used to seeing them in the gym together, it just looked like business as usual.

Kickboxing, however, was a bit different. Working out with Mo was just becoming easy. He wasn't self-conscious anymore because he knew what to expect, and he was accustomed to it. This kickboxing thing, however, was completely out of his element. Alex wasn't a fighter. He avoided it if necessary. Only once did he come into a situation he couldn't find his way out of without violence, and it resulted in the injured hand he now had.

But there was something else to this kickboxing thing, and it went past him being uncomfortable.

Have you ever met a person, and for no particular reason you can think of, you just dislike them immensely? You can't place your finger on it, but there's just something about them that makes the hairs on your neck stand on end?

That was how Alex felt about Mo's "kickboxing workout partner", Hector.

Hector looked like the typical "father's worst nightmare" bad boy. He had a shaved head, a goatee, and a body full of tattoos. His eyes roamed over Mo's entire body when he talked to her, and his Antonio Banderas accent was smooth as it rolled off his tongue.

Despite that, it wasn't just wary jealousy that threw Alex off. There really was something about him. Alex couldn't place his face, but he felt like he

knew

this guy. It was his swag; his demeanor, and the way he looked at Mo. It was all so...familiar.

Alex used his injured hand as an excuse to bow out of the exercises. Monique pouted disappointedly, but she was okay when he said he'd just sit back and watch. She really wanted Alex to see her in her element, as this was something important to her that she wanted to share with him.

It wasn't until they were halfway through with their exercises that Alex's brain ran across a memory that revealed how he knew Hector.

Alex remembered sitting in his car with Summer all those years ago. He remembered her kissing him on the cheek like a little brother before bouncing out of the car. She ran across the parking lot and leapt into the arms of another man. This man, who was bald and tattooed, caught her in midair and held her up by her butt. Then, after giving a wave to her chauffeur, he went into the motel room and kicked the door closed behind him. (Lexxy Baby, Pt 04).

Hector was that guy. Hector fucked Summer all those years ago while Alex waited for them to finish. And now, this guy was in the ring with his girlfriend, wrestling around and sweating all over her.

Fuck.

On the drive back to Mo's place, Alex was pensive and quiet. Monique didn't notice it at first because she was gushing about Hector and kickboxing. When she did notice, she leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.

Then, she asked the question he wished she didn't ask.

"So...what'd you think?"

Did he want to be honest? Did he want to tell her that he loathed her mentor and family friend? And did he want to relive his worst memory and explain why?

A part of him felt it was petty. Hector didn't wrong him in any way. He and Summer were only a couple in his young, naïve mind. It wasn't like Hector stole her from him.

Still, he felt what he felt. Petty or not, it was what it was.

Alex didn't want to lie to her even though he was ambivalent about telling her the truth. So, he gave her another truth that didn't reveal his feelings.

"You're kind of a bad ass." he said, giving her a smile.

"Really?"

"Yeah. I'm never fucking with you."

She laughed and grabbed his free hand. "I'd never hurt you. You're my Lexxy Baby. The only way you'd catch these hands is if I caught you with some other bitch."

He was at a red light, so he was able to turn and look her in her eyes. After holding the gaze for a few moments, he asked, "Where would I ever find anyone who could top you?"

"Such a good answer."

They smiled at each other as they leaned in for a kiss. Of course, the two of them can't just peck. They made out, right there at the light, until the car behind them angrily blew their horn.

As he started driving again, he heard a phone chime. It wasn't his because he was hooked up to the car's Bluetooth, and he would've heard it through the speakers.

From the corner of his eye, he saw her check her phone. An unreadable expression flashed across her face before she just put it away.

"You ok?" he asked, noticing the abrupt change in her temperament. She gave him a forced smile and said, "I'm good, bae."

Alex wasn't too sure about what that look was about, but he dropped it.

_____________________________________________

"I can't believe you're finally banging Hot Chocolate." Greg said a couple of days later as the two of them worked in their lab. "Hot Chocolate" is the nickname he'd given Mo. He thought it was clever.

Alex, who was hunched over an open computer tower, looked up from his work and threw him an irritated glare. "Dude, could you please refrain from using your little racist nickname for my girlfriend?"

"It's not racist!" Greg defended. "Your girl is smoking hot, and she's..."

"Black?"

"Well, yeah. Although, to be accurate, she's more beige than black. Or light brown, I guess. Maybe I should call her Hot Caramel."

Alex was not going down this rabbit hole. Greg was an awesome friend, but he could be a dumbass at times.

Not even trying to hide is annoyance, Alex said, "Or...here's a thought...you can just call her Mo. You know, like everyone else on the planet."

"What fun would that be?"

Alex shook his head and gave up. Turning back to his work, he let the conversation drop.

Greg didn't turn back. In a more serious tone, he asked, "Have you introduced her to your pops yet?"

That stopped Alex cold. Greg could see his body seize up. He further asked, "Have you even told him that she's black?"

More silence.

With a worried sigh, he said, "You know, sooner or later, you're gonna have to..."

"I know, Greg!" Alex cut him off. Then, more to himself than his friend, he said, "Fuck."

The thought of telling his dad the truth literally gave Alex anxiety. Yes, his dad was a racist piece of shit, but he was still his dad. The same guy who hates niggers was the same guy who bought him his first computer, took him fishing, and taught him to drive.

His fear was that he wasn't as strong as Sarah and his mom. He didn't think he could just cut his dad out of his life like his sister did. It wasn't just about his own feelings.

Alex literally took care of his dad. Yes, his dad had been collecting unemployment for the longest, but Alex paid more bills than he did. Alex made sure he took his medicine and drove to the bar to pick him up when he got too wasted to drive home.

If his dad ostracized him, which is what would happen given the history of the family, who would take care of him? His mother had run off, Sarah had washed her hands of him, and he had no living siblings. His mother and sister freed themselves of the burden, but they unknowingly condemned Alex to live with the responsibility.