What's Happening in the Safehouse?

21:00

Kingson and Branson looked on as Star continued her work, oblivious to all else around her as she was intently focused on her artwork. She was a good artist, that much was clear, and she did not overdo it, either. They needed a tattoo that was visible but not offensively so. Through it all, Ygritte kept her cool and never once complained even though this was her first tattoo ever. She would often hiss, suck her teeth, pray or hurl invectives - all in Spanish and at unknown personages other than the prayers going to God.

Chulo and Ygritte had called the children via WhatsApp video call, after Line dropped unexpectedly, through Uncle Victor's phone. Victor and both of his henchmen, Chulo's cousins, had left at around 18:00. There was a housekeeper who picked up the girls from school and brought them home. The girls were familiar with all the housekeepers and nannies, but they still asked: "Donde esta Papa y Mama?" Meaning: where is Papa and Mama?

Branson got bored watching the tattoo process (although he enjoyed looking at Ygritte's and Star's asses). He and Yselle went downstairs and sat in the low light of one of the parlors while Ygritte's maid was in the main kitchen fixing up something to eat. They sat near each other, not talking, just enjoying each other's company. Thoughts such as the fact that Chulo was upstairs with everyone else flitted in and out of Branson's mind. He remembered something.

"You know," Branson began carefully. "This is a huge house."

Yselle looked at him sideways. "And?"

"Maybe I can offer you someone to help keep it orderly, neat and clean?"

"Hm. By the way you talking you must know the person."

"Yes, indeed."

"Male or female?"

"Female."

"Former or current girlfriend?" Yselle quipped. Branson raised his eyebrows and sighed deeply in exasperation. "Is she trustworthy?"

"I wouldn't recommend her if she wasn't."

"And you want her to do...?

Branson looked at her testily. "What you want me to do, write a list of chores for her to be doing every day?"

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry."

"You know what? Forget it. You ain't gotta do shit for me anyway." Yselle was shocked and hurt. Why was Branson snapping on her like this? She held her peace and thought back. It had been a rough day for him, yes. So... Maybe he was stressed out. Simple as that. Women of color often forgot about the psychological stress and trauma experienced by men of color, particularly Afro-anything men, the brown-skinned and especially the dark-skinned makes. Branson was of a dark hue, not that gorgeous Ethiopian darkness but beautifully darker than average in any case. He was dark chocolate in complexion, uniform in tincture. It seemed as if police forces were always looking for predominantly men of Branson's dark coloration to murder in cold blood, as the cowards the pigs were.

Yselle placed a hand on Branson's shoulder. He looked at her sidelong. She started running her fingers from the front to the back of the clean rows between his braids, then played with the long and curly ends. He was quite a bit like Slim from The Wire, though more fit and his braids a little longer. On down to the voice of Slim, that was who Branson reminded her of.

"Papi, por favor... perdona me." She was asking for forgiveness and began kissing his neck, his cheek, even his eyelids, all the while crooning salacious words in Spanish softly. Branson shifted away from her. She stopped, confused.

"Not in the house and definitely not at this time, apparently. Look at the shadow in the doorway." At the doorway, Yselle could see the slanting corridor light broken at one edge by a head shaped shadow that bobbed back and forth. She tiptoed to go see who it was and caught Ygritte's maid ear hustling, that is, eavesdropping, to the side of the entry of this parlor. Spanish began flying at supersonic speeds between Yselle and the old woman, who was trying to defend herself and assure Yselle that she could be trusted, she would not say anything to anyone.

Yselle held her finger to the woman's face and reminded her that Chulo was her brother, and no matter what she did, he would always forgive her. But if the old woman fell out of favor with Chulo, she would just... disappear. The maid blanched and held tightly to the laps of her long and spacious skirts. Yselle continued berating her, but silently now, ending with a directional fling of her arm. The maid fled. Yselle looked after her and shook her head wryly. She knew then that nothing could happen in Chulo's house without him knowing.

An idea formed in her mind: if Branson's girl (it was so obvious they had been talking about a girl with whom he was involved) - if his girl was working, Branson would have more free time to spend with Yselle herself. She went into the parlor and sat on Branson's lap. He lifted her sweater and began sucking on and squeezing her juicy breasts. She luxuriated in the feel of his tongue and mouth descrying parabolas on her titties, and she allowed it to continue a little while longer before pulling her succulent tits out of his mouth. He looked up at her questioningly. She draped her arm around his broad shoulders and ruffled his handsome goatee.

"We can't do anything in this house; at least not now," Yselle told him softly. He nodded resolutely. She laced both hands behind his head. "Why don't we let your woman come and be working here? Soon enough, Chulo's going to be moving around and I don't think he likes being cooped up here too much, despite the bit of space." Branson thought about it; then a knowing smile came to his face.

"How do you benefit with her working here?" Yselle put on a surprised and innocent look on her face. "Yeah, right. With that fake ass innocent look." She couldn't hold it any longer and burst into laughter.

"Okay, mi amor, so we'll get to spend a bit more time together." He smiled and kissed her. "Let's get back upstairs before Chulo storms down here."

"Nah, he's too busy on the side pretending like he not looking at Ygritte's ass." They stood up to go.

"How you know? You were also looking at her ass?" Naomi fixed herself and took him by the hand, then kissed him as he held her butt firmly, squeezing the buttcheeks.

"Harmless looking. Looking ain't never hurt nobody."

"Si, pero keep it like that." They went back upstairs.