LEANDRA
Today was one of those days where I didn’t feel like doing nothing but lying on my ass. I had this gut feeling that if I stepped outside my house, everything would go to opossum shit. The anger I was feeling after finding out what Taj’s lying ass did for a living was through the roof. I was trying to find the right time to tell you, Taj had said. News flash, motherfucker, there is no right time to tell your woman that you fuck men in the booty for money. I don’t know what burns my titty the most: the fact that he’s on some gay-for-pay shit, or that he lied to me about it. I blame myself for even getting involved with Taj. A man sweet-talks me, tells me how pretty I am, and before I know it, my Victoria’s Secret panties are down around my ankles like a hula-hoop. After Emjay moved out, I had a bad case of the empty nest, doing nothing but sitting at home eating Lean Cuisine TV dinners and staring at four white walls. I never thought I would miss that loud, terrible rap music bumping from Emjay’s room or years of cleaning up after him after it looked like a tornado had hit his room. With the mess that had happened with Taj, I missed Emjay more than ever and wished he was still living at home. I didn’t realize just how good he was at his writing until I saw him read last night. I sat at the back of the café so he and Shariece couldn’t see me. Shariece looked like she had put on a few pounds, but who was I to talk the way I’ve been eating. Since our fight, my diet has gone off the rails. I didn’t know just how much I missed them until I saw them at the poetry reading. Emjay looked thin like he hadn’t been eating well. Figures. Shariece can barely boil bologna.
When Emjay moved out, I was excited at first to finally have the house to myself. I could finally have some male company over. My number one rule was to never bring a man home around Emjay. A week after he’d moved out, I started going out again. It was better than sitting at home stuffing my face with ice cream and greasy potato chips. I felt like dressing up and dancing, shake off some of this ass I had gained. The night I met Taj at the Top Flite Club, I had on a leopard print skirt and a black Dsquared2 blouse with some black Jimmy Choos to match. When I walked into the club, mouths dropped and all eyes were on me ’cept the ladies who were obviously drunk off hater aid, as Emjay once put it. The club was packed and hot from all the body heat being given off. I saddled up to the bar where Taj was working as one of the bartenders, a job he wasn’t the best at, considering I had to wave my titties in his face to order a drink.
“What can I get for you?” he asked, as he glanced at my breasts tight in the designer blouse. “Vodka cranberry.”
“Single or double?”
“A double.” My day was crazy at the salon, and a double was what I needed to help me forget that a church group of ten women all came into the salon at once to get their hair done. Taj returned with my drink, and when I tasted it, there was more cranberry juice in the glass than vodka. Where the hell did he learn how to make drinks, Bartending for Dummies? Being that he was busy and was the embodiment of fine, I didn’t break his balls about the worst vodka cranberry I’d ever had. From where I was sitting, I had a stellar view of his bubble-luscious football player’s ass and broad shoulders that were perfect for resting my legs on while he ate my pussy. His dark-chocolate muscles glistening under the club lights made my pussy throb. I knew the minute I saw him, I would have him. Even if I did have shoes older than the brother. I hung around until final call sipping on one bad vodka cranberry after the next watching women that were less than practically throwing their pussy up in his face. That’s the problem with today’s twenty-first-century chick. Lots of ass, but no class. No need to throw yourself at a man. It’s only dick.
I took the slice of lime that was left and sucked the juice out of the pulp.
“You want another one, baby?”
“No, I think two is my limit,” I said, handing him my debit card.
“Forget about it; it’s on the house.”
“Thank you.”
“You okay to drive home tonight?” Taj asked.
Due to the lack of vodka in all the two drinks I’d had, I wasn’t even buzzed. “I think I’ll make it. It looks like you had a busy night.”
“Everyone is trying to get their party on before school starts back,” he said, as he wiped off the bar. I watched Taj’s lips move, thinking how they would feel against my own.
“Do you have any plans after you get off?” I asked.
“Most likely go home and go to bed.”
“Sounds like a plan to me, let’s go,” I said boldly. Taj looked at me with amused disbelief. “You can follow me back to my place,” I told him.
“Yeah, okay, that’s cool. Give me a few minutes. I need to clock out.”
As I drove home I started to think: I hope he’s not crazy. He’s too damn fine to be psycho. I was horny and couldn’t wait to wrap my lips around what I was sure was an endowment of gigantic proportions. A woman can only finger-fuck herself for so long before she wants to be run through with some good dick. The minute we got in the house, Taj took me by the waist, pulled me to him and planted a kiss on me, squeezing my ass with those big Shaquille O’Neal hands of his. Our tongues intertwined as Taj squeezed my ass harder. I slid my hand along the thick bulge that tinted his black jeans, a dick aching to be released.
“Let’s go upstairs,” I said. I took him by the hand and led him upstairs to the bedroom. If Taj did turn out to be a black Jeffrey Dahmer, I had something for his ass in my bedside table that was cocked and loaded. We both got undressed. When Taj peeled off his shirt, exposing firm abs and pecs, my mouth damn near dropped to the floor. I kicked off the Jimmy Choos that had been putting a killing on my feet all night, but it’s like I always say, beauty is pain. My breasts popped from their black, laced prison when I released the hook in the back. Taj began licking my nipples, running circles around them with the tip of his tongue. I couldn’t remember the last time a man had touched me so sensuously. Taj smeared me onto the bed, kissing me deep as he slid the white boxer briefs off his bubble-butt like it was a second skin. His dick was fat and hot pressing against my pussy. He looked deep into my pretty brown eyes as he slipped his dick inside me like a sweet secret. I hooked my legs around his mid region as he deep-dicked me with long thrusts. Taj was hitting every spot, swerving, stretching my sugar walls like a pussy-fucking pro. He grabbed my ankles as if they were handle bars, fucking me crazy as I clawed at his firm, molasses-brown ass. After almost an hour of lovemaking, we had come to climax; the two of us collapsed into a heap of sweat and exhaustion. The last time I had gotten fucked that deep was when Rick was alive.
“Are you okay?” Taj asked.
“Oh, I couldn’t be better.” Taj ended up sleeping over that night. I got up the next morning and made him blueberry pancakes, grits and ham steak. I wasn’t about to let dick that good get away.
“So can I see you again?” Taj asked.
“I’m sure something can be arranged,” I said as I was making the pancakes.
“That’s good, because I want to take you on a proper date.” I should have known then that if everything was going right, it was just too damn good to be true. Nobody is that perfect. Thinking on it now, I wonder if he was fucking men on the down low all those times he was with me. How many asses has he stuck his dirty dick in? It doesn’t matter. We’ve done as far as I’m concerned.