X Marks the Spot

He watches her methodically undress in the dimly lit hotel room while he stands at the head of the bed. His shoulders are rigid and his back is erect. His rangy limbs are squarely planted on ten and two of his body.

She reaches behind her own back and unzips her long floral dress. The dress slips from her shoulders and allows it to glide to the floor. The silk pools around her feet before she sneaks a glance over her shoulder to see if his attention has been obtained. His eyes are fixed in her direction but his face is unmoved.

She returns to undressing by side-stepping from the middle of the floral fabric around her ankles, her stiletto heel briefly getting snagged in the mess. Her full, natural breasts hang like pumelos on her chest.

When she turns to look at her prospective lover again, his back has relaxed and his nimble fingers have gone to work on unzipping his pants and unbuttoning his shirt.

She turns away again to smile before sensually bending over to collect her dress from the floor. Her round behind separates ever so slightly, allowing him to see a flirtatious wink from her inner thighs.

Her heels subtly click across the floor adding to the soundtrack of scarce traffic flashing past their hotel window. A train horn sounds off in the distance. With her dress now neatly draped across the back of the rickety office chair, she’s ready to follow his remaining instructions.

Her heels click-clack to the hotel dormitory’s entrance. She uses the extra locks to secure the doorway. She looks over to him again. His button-down shirt and slacks are halved over his folded arms. The pair is separated by the bed and his tight, white boxer briefs.

She reassures him by crawling across the bed to him and taking his clothes from his arms.

“Come,” she says seductively.

She leaves his clothes on the bedside table and leans back on the bed. Her long, lean legs spread on each side. He leans over her, his lips stiffly pressing against hers. She uses her tongue to part his lips, his jaw goes slack then their lips engage in a game of cat and mouse.

Using her stilettos as leverage, she digs them into the bed, squeezes her thighs around his waist, then inches him and herself further onto the bed. She digs her teeth into his bottom lip before sucking on it to soothe the sting.

He winces a bit before striking his hand against her throat to give a gentle but stern reminder of their arrangement. Her vagina tightens with anticipation for what’s to come.

He bites her bottom lip in return, then her chin and along her jawline. Her heart skips a beat when he moves down the side of her neck, a small distance beneath her ear. His bites burn with pleasure. Her soft moans feed his flame. Her hands travel the length of his back, her ankles are now crossed delicately around his waist.

She can feel his bulge against her. Her moans plead for him to silence the aching in her most private part, her deepest secret. She uses her fingers to tickle the band of his briefs, his hands catch her wrists then pin them over her head.

Her hips gyrate on his bulge to continue beckoning his phallus, but he continues to take his time.

Coming soon…

photo credit: stefan kuhn

Master’s Masterpiece

He said he’d buy me a collar then we’d do erotic things.

I wonder what those things include.

Would he instruct me to gracefully kneel and lift my hair?

As he fixes the collar to my neck, would his rough finger tips graze the tiny goosebumps on my nape?

Before he walks around to stand in front of me, lifting my chin so he can see me

Staring into my eyes so he can see us


Because I am now his submissive.

A reflection of his dominance,

A result of his care,

His masterpiece.

Fixation (rewind)

Helena and Preston spent their first semester together being nothing more than friends with benefits. As the summer break quickly approached, Preston found himself wanting Helena to be more than his lover. He was intrigued by her need to remain emotionally distant and was desperate to break the barrier between them. He contemplated this as he laid in her bed staring at the ceiling. He also thought about the women in his past and realized that he had not been so enamored before.

Preston rolled over in Helena’s bed after another all night caper and checked the time. It was half past two in the afternoon and they had missed their morning classes. He rolled to his side and admired his sleeping companion. Helena’s hair was in a thick knotty mess, her lips appeared fuller and tango pink, darker than the usual tint they held.

Their passionate sessions in the late night hour had transitioned to midday pleasures until Preston eventually started to stay the night and their sessions became all day occurrences. He stared at Helena as he plotted on how he would convince Helena to go see a movie with him.

“Hel,” Preston whispered. “Helena,” he repeated and leaned in until their noses touched.

Helena groaned and rolled to her other side so she no longer faced him, “Go home Preston.”

“You’re grumbling. I can’t hear you,” he chided.

She let out a soft giggle then stuffed her face into her pillow, “Can you hear me now?” Her voice was muffled.

“Yes, I believe you said that you wanted to go see a movie with me today,” Preston quipped.

“What?” Helena peeked over her fluffy pillow at her lover. Her voice was still groggy.

He raised himself on his elbows and returned her glance, “I know we agreed to see one another privately but -”

Helena raised herself to meet his gaze and interrupted his ramble, “Shush, I don’t want to do this with you. We aren’t having this conversation.”

“Helena,” Preston continued, “give this a chance. You don’t have to  be my girl. I’m asking you to be more of a friend; a real friend.”

Helena stared at Preston as she contemplated his proposition. He flashed his beguiling smile but she did not change her decision.

“No, Preston. I’m not going anywhere with you,” Helena scowled at her lover.

“Don’t look at me like that. You want to just meet me there?” He persisted.


“Hel, come on baby,” he responded. Helena found him convincing when he licked his lips at her.

“Preston, we are better in private. I don’t want anyone getting in our business. We talked about this before,” her tone softened as did her expression.

Preston smiled; he could tell by her tone that she was very close to agreeing with him. He reached out and stroked her cheek. Helena turned her face into his palm. She closed her eyes and felt a wave of relief; Preston’s touch soothed her. Helena felt trapped in a paradox.

She deflected his question with a fervid kiss. Her delicate hands squeezed tightly on the back of his neck. He closed his eyes and returned her heat. Their tongues intertwined and Preston could not repeat his question. He rolled on top of Helena and continued their fiery kiss.

Preston parted her legs and rested between them as they continued kissing. His hard penis teased her inner thigh; her hands slowly traveled the length of his back. Helena could not think of any reason to complicate their relationship with titles and emotions. She reached between their close bodies and stroked his penis.

“Fuck me,” she whispered between kisses.

Preston was still somewhat distracted by the thought of a her rejecting his invitation. This was that kind of behavior that kept him wrapped around her finger. He silenced her command with another kiss then a hard bite on her neck. Helena pressed her lips together in agony; an agony so dreadfully arousing, she felt the idea of love cross with lust.

His finger tips squeezed her thighs as he spread them farther apart and exposed her yearning pussy. He admired the nectar dripping from her slit as he pushed her knees to her shoulders. Helena loved the way he paused before he performed this naughty deed as if he were giving thanks for his favorite meal.

Preston started with gentle kisses on her pussy lips. By the third kiss, he added his tongue; playing hide and seek with her clitoris. Helena could feel her insides tighten with anticipation. His tongue slowly coursed in and out of her pussy until her moans begged for a faster pace; he obliged. He continued to pick up his speed until his mouth was pressed firmly against her clit.

Electricity struck Helena in her spine and sent warmth throughout her body. She grabbed a fistful of Preston’s curly hair and swiveled her hips against his mouth.

“Take it all, eat it,” she demanded.

Her back arched as she released her orgasm on his lips and chin.

Preston gave Helena’s swollen pussy a few more soft licks before he raised himself to the head of her bed.

“Will you come with me to the movies?” Preston refused to take no as an answer.

“Okay,” she responded; her eyes were narrow with suspicion staring into his eyes.

“Okay?” he repeated.

“Okay!” she playfully frowned then straddled him. “Now, give me that dick.”


“Hey!” Preston walked up to a young man and woman and embraced them both; leaving Helena standing behind him.

Helena looked on curiously as they all greeted one another.

“This is my lady, Helena,” Preston introduced her with great enthusiasm.

“Lady friend,” Helena corrected as she reached out to shake the hands of his friends.

“This is Lori and my brother Vic,” he remarked dismissing Helena’s correction.

“I had no idea we were meeting people,” Helena said with an insincere smile.

“Oh yea, we’ve been dying to see who’s been occupying el Presidente’s time,” Vic interjected.

His girlfriend Lori laughed as she hooked Helena around her arm and walked to the entrance of the movie theater.

Helena cringed inwardly but visibly made the effort to play nicely. Preston would be punished for this surprise attack on her personal space.

“El Presidente, huh?” Helena whispered to her new companion, Lori.

“Yea, Vic swears Mama is grooming Preston to be the leader of the free world,” Lori answered.


“Preston’s mom. She insists that we call her Mama but I don’t mind. She’s always been very kind to me,” Lori said.

“Oh, okay,” Helena replied consciously.

Their dates caught up with them and pulled them away from their conversation. Helena was relieved to put an end to the conversation about Preston’s mother but she would continue to be a good sport. She made a note to herself to ask Preston what Lori meant by him being groomed to become a leader of the free world.

Helena noticed Preston and his friends gave off positive vibes. They seemed happy and carefree. She could remember feeling that way with her sister, Rebecca when they were kids. Preston intertwined their fingers as his thumb stroked the back of her hand. She was beginning to feel more at ease.


{Part One} *** {Part Two}

fixation (fast forward)

“Hey, I haven’t seen you around here before,” Rebecca as she grinned from ear to ear at the stranger as she walked into her building’s laundry room.

“Hi,” he said as he returned a smile. “I just moved here from Georgia. My name is Preston.”

“Preston.” She repeated. “Welcome to the neighborhood, Preston! My name is Rebecca.” She licked her lips subtly as her eyes glazed over Preston’s frame. He was quite exotic; nothing like she’s used to seeing in town. Her neighborhood in Pawtucket did not offer much eye candy. Many of the locals were just that, locals.

Rebecca moved back to her home town five years ago to help her aunt while her grandmother was ill. Something about her neighborhood reminded her of being in a barrel of crabs. Once you are in the barrel, there’s no way out unless someone pulls you out. And usually, once you’ve found a way out, you’ve found yourself in more trouble.

Rebecca joined the field of underground logistics working for an organization she never had a front seat in. She was more of a middleman, making arrangements for the organization’s shipments on different ports around the world. When she was ready to leave, she was allowed to do so, no questions asked. She did not look over her shoulder once. Her sister Helena managed to be the exception to their neighborhood’s rule and went off to college. Rebecca’s proudest moment was listening to her sister’s salutatorian speech. Helena was her baby and from the moment she laid eyes on her she promised to always watch over her.

“So Preston, how’d you find yourself in Pawtucket?”

“Just looking for a change of pace. So far I’m liking what I’ve seen.” He replied as he returned a flirtatious look.

“I’m in apartment 503D. Stop by if you need anything,” Rebecca’s tone was suggestive.

He smiled but did not reply as Rebecca strolled out of the laundry room.


Rebecca settled into bed but could not rest. Her mind was on her mother and the last time she saw her. Her mother disappeared when Helena was two and she was seven. Their grandmother would always promise them that their mother would return but Danica never came home. Rumors circulated the neighborhood that she may have been murdered or sold away by her dealer. No one could say for sure. At a ripe twenty years old, where ever Danica disappeared to, it was no where good. Rebecca would still relive their last moment together every so often and it would startle her out of a deep sleep. Rebecca tossed in her bed trying to avoid the recurring dream of her mother’s departure.

“Momma will be right back, baby girl. I love you and Lena very much,” she said in Russian, her native language. Her slight accent always lingered in the back of Rebecca’s thoughts. That was the last time Rebecca heard her mother’s voice. She remembers her mother’s jet black hair being soaked as she kissed her good bye. Danica wore her father’s gold crucifix around her neck every day. She cast a look over her shoulder and kissed the crucifix as she walked out of her children’s life for good.

A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts. Given the late hour, Rebecca assumed it was an emergency and rushed to the door.

“Lena, what are you doing here?’ Rebecca whispered as she swung open her apartment door.

“I had to get away!” Helena tried to catch her breath. “I think someone is following me.”

Rebecca ushered her inside before peeking down her hallway to make sure it was clear. She turned to face her sister whose face was streaked with tears.

“What’s going on?” Rebecca asked.

“I can’t tell you,” Helena stammered. Her tawny brown skin was flushed. “I just need your help getting out of here.”

“Here, where? You have to tell me what’s going on or how can I help you?”

Helena leapt from the sofa and started pacing the floor and wringing her hands.

“Did you kill someone?” Rebecca continued her interrogation.

Helena shook her head vigorously in response and continued to ring her hands.

Before Rebecca could continue questioning her younger sister, there was a knock on her door. Both sisters froze in the living room.

The unannounced guest rapped on the door again.

“Who is it?” Rebecca called out.

“I’m sorry, I know it’s late but I need to call the maintenance guy and I don’t have his number,” Preston yelled through the door.

Rebecca turned to her sister to reassure her that the man at the door was her new neighbor but Helena went to hide elsewhere in the apartment.

“Just a minute!” After giving herself a once over in the hallway mirror, she opened the door.

“What’s up?” Rebecca asked.

“I need the number for the maintenance guy,” he repeated.

“Kinda late, no?” Rebecca flirted casually.

“I guess,” Preston started walking towards Rebecca to close the space between them.

“Let me get that number for you, ” she dipped around Preston and headed to the back room.

“I would have never guessed you and Helena are related,” he said following Rebecca towards the back.

She stopped in her tracks.

“What did you say?” Rebecca queried; she turned around cautiously to look Preston in his eyes.

“Helena, your sister, she never mentioned you,” his tone was ominous as he stepped closer to Rebecca.

“I never mentioned a sister to you,” Rebecca stepped backwards, matching his pace. Her mind flashed through the self defense techniques she learned during her years traveling as a logistics expert.

Preston lunged for Rebecca but she instinctively side stepped his aim and spun around so she was facing his back. As he tried to catch his balance from missing his target, Rebecca quickly lifted the heel of her foot and landed it into Preston’s back. She took the opportunity to race past him when he stumbled into her kitchen island.

Helena could hear the commotion from her hiding place. Her heart pounded in her ears as she sat on the floor anxiously.  Preston promised he would not chase her down and yet he managed to locate her older sister.

The sisters did not call out to one another for fear they would give up their hiding places. Rebecca ran into her bedroom and closed the door. There was no where for her to go besides out of the window and she would not leave her sister behind. She could hear Preston approaching the bedroom door so she planted her feet firmly on the ground in anticipation of his attack.

“Okay, Rebecca,” he reasoned through her locked bedroom door, “let’s not do this. Perhaps I came on too strong. Open the door.”

Rebecca did not respond; instead, she took several paces back preparing herself for a worse outcome. The sweat from her brow started to trickle down the side of her face.

“Three,” Preston warned. He began attaching a silencer to his Colt M1911, “two, one.”

He raised his weapon to the door handle, cocked it back then fired at the door knob.

Two more shots fired as he lunged for Rebecca. Helena stepped over his body and ran to her sister’s arms.

“That’s not Preston,” Helena commented. She looked down at the rangy man writhing on the floor and kicked his gun out of his reach.

“Get his arms,” Rebecca instructed her sister. The man roared in pain as Helena pulled his arms behind his back.

Rebecca grabbed one of her silk scarves and began tying his legs vigorously while Helena kept pressure on his bleeding shoulder. Rebecca finished tying his feet then got another scarf to tie his arms taut behind his back.

“There’s a bleeding man on my floor, Helena,” Rebecca was out of breath. “Explain.” She rolled the wailing man on to his side and crammed a pair of socks into his mouth.

Car Treats

“This is ridiculous,” I sighed. “One of us needs to get an apartment immediately.” He also let out a sigh as we sat on the pier and stared at the city skyline.

“Well, I just got a new job. We’ll have an apartment by July,” he replied. I started to stroke his cheek. His muscular jaw line is so sexy to me. He also has extremely thick lips and every time I look at them I’m forced to contemplate which feels better, his thick and long cock or his wet and slimy tongue. I could ride them both for hours. The more I stared at him the more my pussy dripped.

“Let me taste you,” I demanded. He smiled in return and eagerly unzipped his pants. “We should probably get a room,” I began to chuckle as I wrapped my hands around his dick. He’s so tasty. First I gave his work of art soft kisses on its head. Then French kisses that gradually became deep inhales and slurps. His dick is so big that I had to use my hands to jerk while I attempted to swallow ten inches.

My mouth continued to water as I gobbled him down and his moans turned me on even more. He ran his fingers through my hair and pulled my head back for a better view of me smacking his dick against my swollen lips and tongue. More French kisses and more gagging caused my hips to buck. My pussy was streaming at this point. He tried to get his hands into my romper to play with my sticky kitty.

“Don’t touch it,” I panted through slurps and sucks. “No pussy for you.” I then started to lick on his balls. I put them both in my mouth while I jerked him off more. My face was covered in pre-cum and spit, my nipples were hard, and I could no longer contain myself. I ripped open the top of my one piece and leaned back in the seat. I put one leg in his lap and the other on the dashboard. He watched in awe as I rubbed my breasts with one hand and continued to stroke his dick.

“Damn,” he groaned. “I’ve never experienced this before.”

“Really?” I laughed, “I’ve never done this for anyone before. I guess you turn me out.” He squeezed my inner thigh and kissed my nipples while I played with my clit. My pussy glistened under the street light while I stared into his bedroom eyes. He’s such a freak. I love that about him among other things…

I continued to rub my clit and jerk his dick until I started to cream all over the driver’s seat. I sat with my legs apart with on hand on my pussy and the other still giving my man a hand job while I caught my breath. He pulled my hand to his face to lick my fingers but I snatched my hand back and beat him to it.

“I know what you like,” I giggled, “and you can’t have it until you get our apartment. Put your dick away, no nut for you,” I teased.

fixation (living room flow pt 1)

“Thank you for coming, Preston,” Helena flirted as she walked her lover to the door. He stepped into the hallway before they kissed deeply. He backed her into her dorm and the kiss was ignited with more passion. Helena bit his bottom lip then he picked her up and pressed her against the wall. Helena was a lightweight in his large hands. The smell of her pussy was still on his top lip. She wrapped her legs around his waist to pull him closer. There was not an inch between them, only his nine and a half.

Helena’s pale pink robe lifted around her waist as Preston pressed against her; his weight held her up against the wall in the entry hallway. He used one hand to tussle with his belt; the other held his lover tightly. Helena watched the way her silk robe flowed on his tattooed arms. She cradled his head in her neck and shoulders and admired the pink robe against his skin as he proceeded to wear her pink out. They couldn’t get enough of one another. Her nipples hardened as they brushed against his chest and tears welled in her eyes when he pinned her to the wall. He felt so good inside of her; it was a feeling she had never experienced.

Preston linked his fingers into Helena’s and moved her hands overhead. He gazed into her eyes, penetrating her soul and body with steady strokes. Each stroke tapped her erogenous zone effortlessly and he received her cream as a gift. Helena’s thighs squeezed around him and her hips bucked to his rhythm. She could feel his penis throbbing before he climaxed inside of her.

Preston carried Helena to her sofa and rested his head on her chest. She laid there in silence and played in his soft curly hair. The closeness mounting between the two lovers made Helena feel constricted. They were in a friends with benefits type of relationship so when there were moments like this, Helena  had to break it up. Preston was over staying his welcome.

“Okay, luv, you have to get up,” she remarked then nudged him off of her chest.

“What’s wrong?” He asked.

“Nothing, Preston,” she mumbled. “Don’t you think you’ve been here long enough?” Helena finally responded. She fidgeted under his gaze.

“Are we still doing this, Helena?” He questioned.

“Doing what? You shouldn’t be here. We did what you came to do,” her defensive tone started to escalate. “We shouldn’t be in here cuddling.”

This argument had grown old to the both of them. Helena felt like their first time having sex was a fluke while Preston felt like it was fate. It was an evening she would like to forget, though she considered it often. College was a new beginning for Helena; a place where no one had the slightest idea of who she was or where she had come from and to them, it didn’t matter. In college there were no eyes filled with sorrow peering in her direction. Her thick black frames and unkempt hair was all that anyone seemed to care about. It felt like people in her home town were innately sorry for the loss of her mother. While the loss was felt, Helena did not want to live her life in mourning; she wanted to move on. College life gave her that opportunity.

So here she was, tired of being invisible yet still not wanting to be seen. This night Helena was drunk and being alone felt more lonely that usual; she craved a change. During her walk to the student union, she spotted Preston standing around the student board with his friends. Helena walked up to him while he was mid joke and told him that she thought he was sexy. She also referenced her pussy as “the Red Snapper” or something along those crude lines. His friends chuckled in disbelief and Helena in turn, grew extremely red and ran off.

It was pretty cliche, the way Preston chased after Helena but it didn’t stop them. They were both bewildered as to why he did. There was a conflict in the fact that he didn’t want to date her but at the same time, he didn’t care if anyone saw him coming from her dorm. Helena hated the contradiction.

Preston is extremely attractive with an amazing body. He is popular and smart while Helena felt like she was just smart. Her lack of self-esteem was despite her melato brown skin and large, light brown eyes, and thick crown of jet black hair that fell around her face like a lion’s mane. Many people reveled in her beauty, including Preston but Helena never seemed to want to be bothered. She was only seen and barely heard in her classes and even quieter around campus. She was a different girl than Preston was used to. He was a people person, he played sports, and his face is on pretty much every student interest poster. The women Preston dated were generally like minded, but not Helena and he enjoyed every dissimilarity in her. He would rather bask in his enjoyment than share it with others.

Helena didn’t care to process his logic; she felt it were simpler to keep their relationship based on their amazing sexual chemistry. Once she had considered the idea of being anything more than his friend with benefits, things would become complicated but she had grown addicted to his fix. She couldn’t focus without her daily dose and every addiction comes at a price. He had Helena feeling things that neither of them were ready for her to feel. She needed to keep their relationship casual.

Helena felt like if no one was to know they were fooling around, then should be kept it that way. Her emotions were scrambling in an attempt to remain indifferent to his presence and therefore there should be no cuddling. Ideally, Helena wanted to fuck then return to their daily schedule. This concept had become hard to grasp for either of them.

“You have to go, Preston. I have class in about,” she paused to look at her wall clock, “thirty minutes.”

“Oh I see,” he replied. “You don’t have to walk me out,” he said as he sat up on the sofa.

She started to adjust her robe defiantly, snatching at its sides and attempting to tie it tightly. He leaned over and started to softly kiss on her neck then opened her robe and worked himself down to her belly. He kissed Helena and used his fingers to taunt her tender clit. Helena opened her legs to assist him though her mind resisted. Helena really did have class in thirty minutes, but she wondered how long would it take for his beautiful lips to bring her to climax. She grabbed a fistful of his blondish brown hair and pushed his head past her waist line.

“Good girl,” he whispered before his mouth enclosed her pussy. She rolled her eyes back and cried out. Sometimes Helena would stop and ask herself why he had followed her back to her dorm that night and then she would quickly decide that it didn’t matter. She closed her eyes and allowed his warm mouth to silence her thoughts.

As his tongue gently swirled around her labia, his fingers slid in and out to the same rhythm. It seemed that the young man was an old professional. He hooked his arms around Helena’s thighs to prevent her from scooting backwards after her first climax. She dug her heels into the small of his back and bucked her hips forward, grinding her aching pussy onto his tongue. He didn’t stop eating until her body went limp and she was panting.

He sat down on the floor with his penis still erect and his face covered in her orgasm. He eyes beckoned Helena to him and while her body agreed, her mind continued to be unsure. Her body wanted him more and more but she would not move. He reached up and guided her to the floor to join him. They laughed at the way her knees knocked and trembled before he sat her on top of him. She didn’t ride him right away. She started with kissing his neck and even the tip of his nose. She knew kissing the tip of his nose was far too intimate so she stopped herself and raised her ass slowly then rested it on his shaft. The entry was always the best part to her. She also appreciated that he allowed her go her own pace. Helena eased herself up and down on his throbbing muscle and felt him fill her insides each time.

Preston returned the intimacy by kissing her on the tip of her chin and then her shoulder; she winced. She could feel herself getting tense at the idea of starting to become more intimate than sexual. Almost perfectly timed, he palmed the center of her lower back and pressed firmly but he was still gentle. Helena’s nipples were erect from the fire Preston started with the synapses beneath his large palms. With each stroke she claimed on her ride, she pulled his head closer to her chest and buried her face in his hair. Too intimate.

Still riding the young man, she leaned herself back to so that he could have a better view of his penis as he satisfied her. She steadily maneuvered her body so that her feet were pressed against the bottom of the sofa on each side of his athletic body and she held one of his ankles in each of her hands. Fucking his brains out is always Helena’s motive. They were rarely together in public so they may as well relish in one another in the only other aspect possible. She put her entire body to work in satisfying him in the same way he pleasured her. Preston kept her at the cusp of satiated just like any addiction. Because of this, Helena knew that once she reached the pinnacle of satisfaction, she would be able to walk away and go back to her unremarkable world.


Never Ending

I’m fighting against the stereotypes of being
a Black woman.
a single mother. a co-parent.
a plus sized woman or
not that big” woman.
a leader questioning mainstream ideals.
a follower that wants to feel loved.
a young woman with Daddy issues.
a woman with the “Mad Black Woman” syndrome.

I’m suffocating & grasping at freedom. I’m dying to break free or maybe I’m simply dying.

He Was Quite the Performer

I don’t where to start! This is so crazy to me. Alright, so I went on vacation with my friends for my birthday. We went back and forth for weeks trying to decide where we were going to go but finally came to the decision that we would go to Miami for eight days. I can’t tell you how happy I am that we decided to make this happen.

So here we are like a bunch of old ass women walking down the strip with a map. Yes, we had a map. Some guy in the hotel parking lot sold it to us for five bucks. And no, the hotel wasn’t the greatest on Collins Avenue, but it was affordable and since we already established that we wanted to be out and about as much as possible, it didn’t make much sense to get an expensive hotel room.

We finally found Wet Willies and settled in for a bit. I surveyed the beach around us and took note of all of the beautiful women and sexy men socializing nearby. It was nice, to say the very least. I separated from my girls for a bit; I wanted to take the scene in without the gossiping and picture taking. This is a big year for me and I wanted to truly bask in the moment.

So I’m walking and gazing when someone pulls up on my left. I squinted a little bit because the driver looked familiar but I couldn’t place him. The five seconds of eye contact felt like forever. He finally broke the silence and asked me if I was going to get in his car or keep staring. His southern drawl and the familiar way he curled his full lips almost had me faint. It hit me who the man is; I mean am I blind or just plain oblivious?

This is the part that kills me because I can’t tell you who he is and y’all going to think I ain’t shit but I got in the car. I didn’t even text my girls. When this man calls you over, you do not turn him down. Okay, so we’re driving in silence for a few and my heart is racing but I’m still trying to play it cool. I’m just like, chilling out and we’re vibing to the music.

And we weren’t listening to his music either. He had Smokey Robinson playing so that to me says he is not really as narcissistic as he portrays himself. Finally he breaks the silence and of course, he was a little rude at the same time. I wasn’t feeling that but again, when this guy says ‘Come,’ you don’t say no and you fully expect to be coming shortly thereafter.

He had said something about me being too quiet and suggested that maybe he should drop me off somewhere. I was a little ticked off and panicked at the same time. What should I do? Do I pull his dick out and start sucking? Maybe I should start sucking on my own damn titties. I didn’t know! He’s probably had sex with every woman on earth at this point. What can I possibly do differently?

Inwardly, I was a mess but outwardly, I was cucumber cool. So I narrowed my eyes in his direction and told him that he would never know how much I can be if kicked me out of his car. Y’all, I thought I was being so clever but he laughed at me! Well, it was more like a scoff. Kind of like he wasn’t impressed with my response.

My gears started turning again and I was back to square one thinking, “quick, girl, pull that man’s dick out and start sucking!” I started to get so lost in my own thoughts that I did not notice him pulling into a long driveway. We pulled up to a mostly glass house. He got out and headed to the door and I sat in the car stupidly for a moment until I realized that he was not going to open the car door for me.

I jumped out of the car and sped walked to catch up with him. He looked over his shoulder at me like he doubted my ability and was second guessing his decision to pick me up. I felt so silly at this point and it was all I could do not to faint. So we walked into his home and it’s just as gorgeous as you can imagine.

The floors in the foyer were white marble and there was a wide staircase branching off to the right with a wrought iron chandelier in the middle of the ceiling. When I looked over to the left, there was another room that resembled a party hall with peach marble flooring and a baby grand piano in the middle of the floor. Despite being extremely impressed with the entry, I stayed cool.

He walked past the stairwell in the entry and took me to a doorway just past the steps that had another stairwell going down. These stairs spiraled down to a dark room and at this point, I should have been apprehensive but I was still on a high from even being in his presence. He reached behind for my hand and I eagerly took it.

His hands were so soft! We stopped on the stairwell and he pushed my back against the wall and kissed me. He took his hands and slid them up and down my back as he gently dug his fingertips in. I was breathing heavily as our lips crushed into each other. I could feel myself being lifted in the stair well and pressed harder against the wall. I bit and played with his full bottom lip. This could have been my imagination but his lips and tongue tasted so sweet. I could feel my panties over flowing as he crushed me against the wall.

We continued this way only for a short time. As he let me down, he bit my neck. I had tears in my eyes because I was so engaged and I did not want to stop. We were only making out but it was exactly how I imagined it would be. His kisses were full of passion just like his music. There was nothing about this moment that was overrated.

We continued down the stair well and into his finished basement. There was a large oak bar on the left and a small theater on the right. The carpet was the standard cream color but it was plush. He took his shoes off so I followed suit before I crossed the room in the direction of the theater. I turned to face him as I paced backwards. He started to undress as he walked in my direction. His frame was beautiful and his skin was smooth. I slowed my pace so that he could have his chance to catch up to me and I would then have my chance to rub against him.

“Come here, girl,” he said with the same sexy smirk in all of his videos.

Meeting J. Cole

I was up next to perform at the open mic night showcase in Brooklyn. Taste the Stage had become my second home after attending for a few months and I was ready to greet my guests. I stepped on to the small stage after a warm welcome and proceeded to belt the first verse to “Canto a Yemaya.”

Ya le recé a Xangó 
ya le imploré a Oyá 
también pedí clemencia a Olofín 
y hoy le canto a Yemayá 
y Oxum caridad del pobre 
Yemayá, mi guía espiritual

Virgencita, yo que soy tan pobre 
sólo clamo por la tranquilidad 
de mi familia, de mis amigos 
sólo clamo por la tranquilidad

The band and the crowd fell silent as I continued to sing without the music. This song I listened to every morning and every evening had become my bread and wine. I didn’t practice Santeria; hell, I barely knew what it was but the lyrics of this song and the beautiful Afro-Caribbean rhythm speak to my soul. I had to share this feeling.

I squeezed my eyes tight and held my hand to my belly. With every word I could feel a weight being lifted from my chest. My hips slowly began to sway to the beat and then my feet started to join in. I felt like I was dancing with someone. Towards the end of the song, I finally opened my eyes to see that some of the members of the audience got up to dance as well. Once I had finished my rendition, there was an eruption of applause. I thanked the crowd and hurried back to my table.

I was so flustered that I didn’t even notice him sitting in the booth next to the table I was sharing with my friend. She and I made Wednesdays our date night away from our kids; I was eager to hear her thoughts on my set. Before I could ask her anything, she pinched my arm and nodded to his booth.

I had no idea who this guy was. He looked a little familiar but I couldn’t place him. He grabbed the notebook and introduced the next performer. Once they stepped up, he reclaimed his seat in the booth next to me and my friend. I don’t know, maybe it was my imagination or maybe it was wishful thinking because it seemed to me there was a connection between us. Our eyes kept meeting and you know, we would smile a little bit. There was something brewing.

When I told my homegirl about this connection, she laughed and told me his name. J. Cole? Never heard of him. He’s a rapper. She also made a point to mention that he would never be involved with a brown skinned beauty like myself. That’s fine. I’m not truly interested anyway, right?

For the rest of the night, I crushed on everything about J. Cole from his knowing smirk to his laid back demeanor. His presence spoke for itself without the loud and excessive jewelry. I chatted with my homegirl a while longer while keeping a steady eye on J. He was laughing and speaking casually to his entourage and a few others between sets.

This is when he blew my mind. He stepped to the mic and began to perform a spoken word piece. It was so sexy. I loved to hear him talk about his struggle. There is so much power behind his words. So anyway after his set, it was time for band games. This is when the band played tunes and we, the audience, had to guess the song. I saw J. lean over to NJOB, the host, and whisper a request for the next tune.

No one got it. The band kept performing the same snippet and BAM, it hit me what the song was and I jumped up screaming the title. He smirked. I guess I was too excited but the audience was pleased and most importantly, so was he.

All in all Taste the Stage was amazing as usual. I was picking over my catfish nuggets when a rugged voice with a subtle southern accent whispered in my ear. In the flesh, shoulder to shoulder, I sat with J. Cole. He spoke to me like he knew me for ever. His smooth words were so hypnotic and of course, I can’t get into detail but his words sent chills through my body.

I mean at the end of it all, I left with him. His boys went their way and my homegirl went with them. We hopped in his car and drove to the Westin in Jersey City. It was around five in the morning at this point and I was tipsy and tired. The conversation was sexy but polite. J wasn’t crude or disrespectful, he put the moves on just right.

My life started to imitate art once his song about morning sex whispered on the radio. I couldn’t turn him down now, could I?

To be continued…..

My soul is aching and I can’t say for certain that I know why.
When my heart feels so heavy that the tears you could wring from it will create torrential downpour, I write.
I write until I can not write anymore. Until my eyes are heavy and my fingers are cramped and I have wrung the last tear from my heart.
This time, I don’t know where to begin. This time my hands are not large enough to wring my own heart. They are not capable.