Strictly Business.

A gloomy Friday in the office wasn’t ideal, neither was the coffee stain on my blouse. My sales pitch was almost complete after weeks of researching and analyzing effective strategies to yield yet another lucrative quarter for our marketing agency. Although I still needed to work on my proposal, I was relieved to have the rudiments and supporting data archived and prepared to be incorporated into the conjoined presentation slides. Collaborating on this project with anyone else would’ve made me apprehensive, but since it wasn’t with just anyone, I was more inclined to learn all aspects of it, and all aspects of him, too.

In the midst of checking emails while simultaneously worsening the blemish on my shirt, the aroma of a lavender vanilla latte awakened my senses, diverting my attention from my computer screen, to the gentleman standing in my doorway…Caleb.

“I see you’ve had your coffee already, but did you at least get to drink some?” He joked, referring to the spillage.

“Ha, ha, ha. Very funny,” I retorted.

“Hopefully this will make up for it. It’s just how you like it: a double shot of espresso with almond milk, two pumps of vanilla, and three pumps of lavender syrup,” he recounted, not surprising me at all.

Caleb was observant. He paid attention to detail and sometimes over-analyzed certain responsibilities, but then again, I couldn’t always fault him since he was one of the senior leads in our organization. He occupied a much more vital role than most of us, subsequently holding him at a greater regard. He was poised, yet assertive, but his demeanor always softened when it came to me. I’m not even sure if he’d noticed. Due to his busy traveling schedule, I only saw him in person occasionally, but when I did, he made sure to make his way to my office and give me his unwavering attention, and I made sure to reciprocate.

Caleb’s tattoos peeked above his collar and tie, etched against his copper-toned Adam’s apple as he stood six feet tall in front of me. His biceps and pectorals flexed when he talked with his hands, distracting me from whatever the hell he was saying. Navy blue, perfectly tailored pants left just enough room above his oak-toned dress shoes, exposing his complimentary socks. He exuded this…bad boy look, but he was such a nerd when it came to this industry, considering the strategizing and statistics of it all. That may have been what I cherished most about him. He was multifaceted…layered…sexy.

“No pressure, but how’s the presentation coming along? Need help with anything?” He inquired, bringing me back to reality.  

“I’ve completed mostly everything. Now I just have to make it make sense to the directors, and we all know they only have a few brain cells left.”

Caleb chuckled and nodded in agreeance, “This is true, and your best bet is to demonstrate and dissect each category for them, visually. Once you do that, expound on each classification to make sure they’re actually comprehending your viewpoint. “Let me show you.”

Caleb walked around my desk to stand behind me, shooing my hand off of the mouse as he looked down at me, daring me to react—which I didn’t, but my pussy did.

I slightly shifted over so that he could have a better look without my curls blocking the screen, but he didn’t let me go far as he stopped my chair from inching any further. He hovered over my shoulder while browsing through each power point slide, then rolled me back to the center of my computer, offering his constructive criticism:

“Here is where it would be best to insert a comparison chart,” he pointed, “that way, you can validate the how’s and why’s of each strategy, highlighting what’s least effective compared to what’s most effective toward your target audience,” he clarified.

Caleb planted an arm on each side of me, enfolding me between them as he inserted various tables and figures, showing me his favorite methods to use for his presentations. It became almost impossible to concentrate as the notes of his cologne emitted into the atmosphere in unison with the feeling of his breath on my skin. My hair glided against his shirt as I nodded, affirming my acknowledgment of his feedback. The insides of his arms unrelentingly secured me in place as he continued clicking and clacking, because at this point, that’s all I could hear.

The rumble of thunder made us both jump. The floor to ceiling windows in my small, yet cozy office exposed the dark gray clouds, chaotic rainfall, and wind gusts from our high-rise building into the inner city of Seattle. Another roar of thunder sounded as though the sky split into a million pieces, knocking the power out and leaving us to solely rely on the dreary lighting from outside and a vanilla-scented candle I had burning in the corner. Luckily, my laptop battery was fully charged because I was determined to complete the remainder of my tasks to avoid working over the weekend.

“That must be my cue to tend to my own work,” Caleb sighed, stepping back to give me my personal space again.

“Oh, so you’re just going to leave me alone…in the dark? Some coworker you are,” I kidded.

“I can go get my laptop and work in here with you,” he suggested before slowly licking his lips as he gazed into my eyes. “Is that what you want, Mariah?”

My nipples hardened as I felt myself pulsate, then proceeded with a nod.

Caleb got closer, placing his hands into his pockets. “Is that a yes, or a no? Use your words.”

“Yes,” I answered, like a teenage girl.

Returning with his belongings, he sat on the brown leather seat across from me, sharing my desk. Although my head was facing downward into the screen, my eyes were incessantly watching his every move. The veins in his hands were profound, moving with the rhythm of his fingers as he typed. He was in his element—so driven, so ambitious.

“What?” He questioned with a grin.

I was so lost in my thoughts, I’d barely realized that he noticed me, noticing him.

“Uh…nothing,” I answered in embarrassment, tidying up a few papers that were messily spread out.

Picking up the coffee to take a sip, I noticed the smirk on Caleb’s face as I placed it back down.

“Can I help you?” I asked, sarcastically.

He smiled. “No, but you just helped yourself…to my drink.”

I froze. “Oh, shit. I’m so sorry. I’ll go downstairs and get you another one. It tastes just like mine so I couldn’t even tell the difference,” I explained as I stood to retrieve my wallet from my purse that was hanging behind the door.

“Mariah, sit your ass down,” he laughed. “It’s cool as long as you haven’t been putting other things in your mouth,” he clowned, flinching as I hit his arm, which hurt me more than it hurt him.

“I should be more worried about what’s been going in your mouth.”

His eyebrows furrowed as he reeled his head back. “The fuck is that supposed to mean?” He asked, definitely taking offense.

“Nothing,” I innocently replied, though provoking him.

I rolled my eyes and swiveled in my chair to place a few folders in my file cabinet, acting as though I was too preoccupied to engage any further with the topic at hand. But he was right. I did have a preconception about him, because how can a guy like him not have all the pussy in the world in his face, just ready and willing to give it up?

“Don’t nothing me. Is that what you think of me? Damn.”

“Caleb, it was just a joke. Relax.”

“Nah. You hurt my feelings.”

I laughed at his exaggerated, fake frown and offered him a hug as he gently rejected it and continued pretending to be upset. 

“But seriously, do you think I’m out here just wilding like that?” Caleb inquired.

“I mean, you tell me. You’re prestigious, handsome, and you seem to have your priorities in order, so what woman wouldn’t try their hand with you?”

“Mariah, if you have a crush on me, just say that,” he quipped.

“Boy, bye! This thing we have…the harmless flirting, treating me to coffee and lunch, the little meetings to check in on my progress, they’re all are cute, but this…this is strictly business. You know that, Caleb.”

“Actually I didn’t know that,” he countered. “Do you really think I’d be in here with you in the fucking dark if that’s all it was?” He asked.

I widened my eyes and whispered, “Lower your voice.”

He swiftly got up and shut the door to continue expressing the feelings that I was oblivious he had toward me—toward us.

“Mariah, I know we’re colleagues, but some things, I just can’t avoid. You’re thinking I’m out here with a roster of women, when the only woman I even think about is you. Isn’t it obvious? Even when I’m on travel duty, I send you my itinerary. Shit, I check in with you before I check-in for my flight. Do you think all of that is for no reason? Or, since you’ve already made up your mind about me, you can’t even see it for what it is?”

I took another sip of coffee, unsure and uncaring of whose it was. I just needed a sip.

“If I’m being honest, Caleb, I try to avoid my feelings for you every day. I mean, look at us. We’re young, black, and thriving in corporate America. We clicked since the day I started when you took me under your wing to show me the ropes, which I will always appreciate. Our bond is inseparable, even when you’re not physically here. We have a connection that I don’t want to ruin.”

He trailed behind me as I went along the wall, straightening up the knickknacks on the shelves for some sort of distraction. He gently grabbed my wrist to stop me.

“Are you going to continue avoiding your emotions? Are we really going to miss out on what we could be, now that we both know what it is?”

"There’s a fine line between business and pleasure, and—”

“And…we know which lines not to cross,” he interjected. “When we’re here, we keep it professional, when we’re not, we keep it personal. Simple. No need to overcomplicate things.”

I closed my eyes as he continued confessing his sentiments in my ear, resisting the urge to show him exactly what I’ve been suppressing for the past year.

“Look at me,” he murmured.

Caleb’s nose brushed mine as he winked at me. He still had a hold on my wrist, bringing my hand to his face and sliding it down his cheek. I leaned into him, pushing my breast against his chest while looking into his eyes. I was overwhelmed with stifled emotions and was in dire need to finally unveil them. His lips pressed onto mine, then parted them with his tongue. I could taste the sweetness that remained in his mouth, thirsting for more. The bulge in his pants protruded in agony, longing to be released, so I freed him. Gradually descending into a squatting position, I slowly took him in, accentuating my lips each time I slithered down his shaft, to the tip. The veins residing on his dick were almost as prominent as the ones on his hands, as I traced them with my tongue. The excess saliva facilitated capturing his entire length down my air passage. He placed a hand along my throat, ensuring to feel himself thrusting inside of me. I glanced up with teary eyes, realizing he was in absolute bliss. Quickly pulling me up, he turned me around, ensuring I could get whatever he had left before erupting. I nudged my booty out to assist as he navigated my slit and found my opening, making me gasp. He got deeper with every stroke, opening me up more, and more. His head plunged against my cervix, yielding excessive amounts of secretion, glistening on his dark flesh.

“Fuck…Ca…Caleb,” I whimpered.

“Shhh…be quiet and take it, baby. It’s yours.”

A moan escaped from what felt like my soul, which was a little louder than either of us expected. He secured his tie over my mouth while simultaneously caressing my internal muscles with his own. He continued pounding with no mercy, taking what was now his. I was hoping the hard rain against the window concealed the even harder smacking of our skin. His fingers delved into my hips. I could feel him separate us inch by inch, preparing himself to eject.

“Mariah…you’re gripping me so tight. Ease up, baby,” he suggested with heavy breaths. My ass recoiled against him as he gripped my hair, pulling harder, and harder. Then, rapidly pulling out…

“Aaaah fuuuuuuck…” he groaned, as quietly as he possibly could, releasing on the small of my back.

Caleb untied the knot from his tie, liberating my mouth again. He attempted fixing my disheveled hair. It didn’t help, but he tried. Turning me to face him, we peered into each other, realizing this was much deeper than we’d thought, and knew we were ready to explore our undying chemistry even more. Our eyes squinted as the lights flickered back on, suddenly reminding us of where we were and who we were. We assembled ourselves to appear the same way we arrived, as quickly as we could.

A notification from my computer chimed, alerting me that I had fifteen minutes until my nine-thirty meeting with a potential client.

After fixing his tie, Caleb cuffed my chin with his hand, planted a tender kiss on my forehead, and breathlessly stated, “Back to work,” followed up with a complimentary smack on my ass.

So much for keeping things…strictly business.

Chicago in September.

The wedding rehearsal was a disaster. I was hoping to be paired with someone who at least matched my energy during the formal dance, but that wasn’t the case. September was dancing like she had two left feet—they were two pretty ass feet, but that’s beside the point. I, Chicago on the other hand, am a Delta, so I wanted to strut and really show out for the reception dance, but that would cause me to outshine her, no-rhythm-having ass. How did I get stuck being partnered with the prude, awkward, bridesmaid?

Sam and Erika’s wedding was less than 2 weeks away and with September being my partner, I wasn’t sure if we’d be ready in time. It seemed like all the other duos had it together, except us. I tried guiding her and told her to follow my lead, but even then, she couldn’t grasp the cadence. We only knew each other through our mutual friends, so I tried not to be too bossy or controlling, giving her the wrong idea about me, but if I had a dime for every time baby stepped on my toes with those pointy-ass heels, I’d have my tux paid off…shit.

“Why would ya’ll pair me with ol’ girl?”

“Who, September? She just needs a little practice”, Erika explained, defending her friend.

“Yeah, she just needs a little practice. Handle that”, Sam added, and winked.

“We’re going to get something to eat and maybe shoot pool, so follow us. September is riding with you, Chicago”, said Erika.

“Well, damn…just offer my services”, I replied, sarcastically.

Waiting outside of the venue, September came out in a change of clothes. As simple as her outfit was, she looked sexy as hell. Her jeans hugged her in all the right places, showing off her curves and her thigh gap, that lead up to a little something that sat just right in the front, and in the back. I opened the car door for her and peeped the distressed rip she had in the back of her jeans, slightly exposing her right butt cheek. I caught a whiff of her soft, sweet scent as she got in the car. I got in on my side and eyed her up and down…again. “Damn…” I thought to myself.

September sat in the passenger seat, quietly looking out the window as we followed the group to our next destination.

“Look, I know I can’t dance, but just work with me”, September admitted, breaking the awkward silence.

I tried to hold my laughter in, but I couldn’t help myself!

“I mean, I wasn’t going to say anything and I didn’t mean to laugh like that, but since you brought it up, let’s talk about it and how we can work towards improvement”.

The way she turned her head from looking out the window to looking at me, lets me know that I said something right. She sat there and stared at me until the corners of her mouth led to a smile.

“Wow, you actually smile?” I asked jokingly. “That’s a first.”

September smirked, “I feel like every wedding rehearsal had me so uptight and anxious because I was so nervous about what you thought about me. Smiling and actually enjoying the moment didn’t even come to mind, honestly.”

“Well, I hope I changed that for you”, I said, giving her direct eye contact. “We still have 2 weeks to spare, so, I mean, if you want to come over, we can rehearse more, you know, in a more private setting, where there’s not so much attention on you, if that makes you feel better.”

September sat there in silence for a few seconds, making me feel like I might’ve made her uneasy until she responded, “Yeah, I would love that”.

“Okay, cool”.

On our way to eat, I let her connect her Bluetooth to the car so she could be the DJ for the next fifteen minutes. The first song she played was Sky Dweller by EST Gee. It was at that very moment, I knew she passed the vibe check and I trusted her musical judgment thereafter.

“Oh, so you’re a gangster, huh?” I laughed, watching the road, and watching her too.

“I mean, if that’s what you want to call me”.

We both laughed and started rapping the lyrics to every song. I definitely got her to be more comfortable with me, which is what I initially wanted—that way, we can actually be on one accord during the wedding and reception. Although at this point, I wanted to get to know her even more, beyond the wedding. It’s not our first time hanging out, but it is our first time being alone, one-on-one. Any other time I saw her was if Erika invited her to hang out with us as a group, so the opportunity was never presented, nor thought of.

We finally arrived at a spot that served food and had activities, so this place was right up everyone’s alley.

“Do you shoot pool?” I asked September.

“I haven’t in a while, so I might be a little rusty. Do you think you can help me out?”

“Hell ye—I mean, yeah, yeah, I can help you, sweetheart”.

We all agreed to eat first because we were starving. September and I both ordered the same thing: steak, a baked potato, and steamed broccoli.

“Great minds think alike”, I stated.

September disagreed, “Nah, you just want to be like me, but it’s cute though”.

We all found her comment funny and everybody started clowning me, which turned into a mini roast session—killing time while we waited for our entrees.

The table talk faded into background noise as I admired her sitting next to me. Her personality was bomb, she was beautiful, and had a sassiness about her, too—just what I like. I couldn’t help but notice how much she let her guard down. She exuded the most confidence I’ve ever seen in her. The shit was attractive as fuck. I’ve never looked at her in this way, but it made me want to shoot my shot and see where things can go.

Our food arrived and everything looked and smelled so good.

“Fuck”, September exclaimed.

She dropped her knife on the floor.

I scooted my chair closer to her. “Don’t worry about it. I got you”.

I felt her eyes and everyone else’s watching me as I began cutting her steak.

“How do you want your potato? You want sour cream and butter? Do you need salt and pepper?”

She began blushing and answered, “Yes, please, all that.”

We finished up our meals, I packed her leftovers, and we headed to the pool tables on the opposite side of the eating area.

Erika and Sam played against September and me. Stephan and Lauri played against Trey and Melanie on a different table.

“I like to hit it hard”, I told September, “No pun intended.”

“Do you, now?” she asked.

“Yeah, I do, but I also like to be gentle, depending on which angle I’m hitting it from or what hole I’m trying to shoot it in.”

She giggled and I couldn’t help but notice her breast bounce when she did. Her nipples were hard, piercing through her shirt, making me even harder.

We let September break and she damn near broke her back.

“Here, let me show you how it’s done”, I insisted.

I came behind her and pressed my body onto hers, ensuring she could feel my hardness between her ass crack. I placed my hands over hers and we both leaned in, trying to perfect her aim.

“Yay!” September shouted as she finally made several balls into the holes.

“See, I knew you could do it,” I told her.

“Can you show me again?” she asked.

“I can show you anything you want”.

I knew what she wanted. She wanted to feel me on her again. I know that turned her on. Our chemistry was undeniable and everyone could attest.

We got a few games in and were ready to call it a night until the final rehearsal.

“So, am I taking you home, or…?” I questioned.

“Please, if you don’t mind. I really don’t want to catch the train this late at night,” September explained.

“Of course, baby…I mean…” I retracted.

“No, baby is cool”, she nodded.

We all parted ways, said our goodbyes for the night, and drove off.

“How well do you drive with your left hand?” September asked.

“Um, just fine, I guess”, I answered, confused at such a random question.

“Ok, so do it.”

I did as she told me. She grabbed my right hand and placed it on her thigh. I liked that “Ms. Prude” wasn’t so prude anymore. I took it a step further and began rubbing it, then gripping it. She squirmed, but kept quiet. Shit, she was probably daydreaming about this dick just as I was daydreaming about every aspect of her. She moved my hand from her thigh to the crotch of her jeans. I went ahead and rubbed on that, too. While still gripping the steering wheel with my left hand, I used my special talents and unbuttoned her clothes with my right, then started gripping those lips and everything in between. I began rubbing her clit and gradually slid two fingers inside of her. I pushed my fingers as far as they would go, making her moan and grind on my hand.

“Who got you like this?” I asked, referring to her moistness and knowing damn well it was me, but I wanted to hear her say it.

“You, baby,” she uttered.

“Say it louder and call me daddy this time”, I commanded expectantly while keeping my eyes on the road and my ears ready.

“Who got your pussy wet like this?”

“You, daddy!” she shouted as I put pressure on her g-spot, making her orgasm.

Her warm secretion covered my fingers as I slid them out of her. I entered both fingers into my mouth, tasting all of her, then slowly put them back into her, then back into my mouth, then back into her. I repeated until we arrived at her place and there was nothing left. Although I wanted to take it further, I was left satisfied, knowing that I met her needs.

I parked outside of her house. She almost seemed embarrassed.

“You ok?” I asked her.

“I’m good, but don’t go thinking I’m anything less than a prude, no-rhythm-having ass bitch…as long as I’m your prude, no-rhythm-having ass bitch”, she stated, rolling her neck with attitude.

Shit. I know she heard that from Sam’s dumbass. He can’t hold water to save his life, but fuck it, it worked in my favor.

“Yeah, you can be all that for me, but we’re going to do something about those two left feet. See you at rehearsal, my place, seven-thirty…and don’t be late, unless you know what’s good for you”.

September blushed all the way to her front door as I waited for her to get inside before pulling off.

Little does she know, I have another job for those pretty ass feet.

House Call.

Today was a self-care day, but I made an exception for Bryson since I was his favorite barber—shit, I was his only barber. I only took this house call for him because I’m serious about my “me time” when I’m not at the shop, plus, I enjoyed entertaining his flirtatious gestures. It was lighthearted, it was fun, but at the shop, it wasn’t the most appropriate behavior.

His knock turned into the Clipse’s “Grindin” beat after I took too long to open the door. Whenever he came to the shop, he would turn his knock into a classic rap beat—which, I’d either have to guess the song, or discount his haircut. It was our little thing. He absolutely hated to lose. The one time he did win, he didn’t accept the discount and he always paid extra, regardless.

“Damn, what took you so long to answer the door?” he asked, scrunching his eyebrows together in confusion comprised with nosiness.

“I was tidying up. I don’t want you thinking I’m a slob.”

“You call this tidy?” he asked sarcastically, but in all seriousness, nonetheless.

I looked at him and rolled my eyes.

Although my place wasn’t filthy, I had piles of laundry occupying my sofa that needed to be folded. My habitual spending on home décor made the living room look similar to HomeGoods. The half-eaten bag of rice cakes had been resting on my TV stand since last night and is probably stale at this point. Shit…maybe I am a bit of a slob.

Bryson proceeded inside, looking around and examining every corner.

 “Umm, what was the song, Sabrina?”

“It’s “Grinding”. Who wouldn’t know that?”

“I was taking it easy on you,” he added.

“Nah. Don’t take it easy on me. I’m nothing like those prissy girls you run around with who knows absolutely nothing about classic rap music. You should already know I’m a hip-hop connoisseur. I got this.”

He smirked while twisting the hairs in his beard, impressed and turned on by my presumptuous demeanor.

“Oh you got this, huh?” he asked, rebelliously, wanting to put me up for a challenge.

I continued to the den where my barber chair and other cosmetic instruments resided. Bryson spectated as he purposely lagged behind. My bedroom door was halfway open. Although he didn’t think I’d notice, due to being a few steps ahead, he swiftly snuck a peek inside then kept strolling. I oddly found his meddling to be quite cute—contrary to the despise I have against people who pry in my business. It was almost flattering how curious he was about me since all he knew was “Sabrina the barber”.

Opposed to what the living room looked like, the den was spotless—it was my sanctuary. I’ve practiced my barber skills on numerous family members, friends, and classmates, who turned into recurring clients, amongst others. Before I rented a chair at the barbershop, this is where I made my money, and a name for myself.  

The cutting chair was espresso brown, made of quality leather. The stainless steel clippers, scissors, and razors were laid out neatly, shiny, and sanitized. The dark hardwood floors complemented the white cabinetry with gold handles, which made the gold knickknacks on the shelves really stand out. The oil diffuser dispensed notes of lemongrass, eucalyptus, and tea tree oils. A candle was always lit to enhance the therapeutic vibe that I was trying to channel—both in the barbershop, and at home. I took pride in my work and this space of utopia certainly concurred.

 “Ok, come on. Sit your ass down. I don’t have all day”, I said jokingly while slapping the backrest of the chair, knowing good and damn well I had all day.

He side-eyed me and said, “Watch your tone”, while slowly taking a seat.

My feminine muscles instantly clenched.

I sanitized my hands and grabbed a neck strip from its container. As I reached across his face to grab the other end of the strip, my right arm softly brushed his lips. Aiming to bring the neck strip underneath his beard, Bryson slowly turned his head and softly landed a kiss on my inner wrist. I blushed, but only internally as I didn’t want the mirror that was stationed in front of us to mirror the unexpected butterflies that arose. I placed the haircutting cape on him and began the process as if nothing happened.

“Leave a little on the top”, Bryson requested, so I fulfilled his desire and gave him the usual fade he’d always get.  

“Hold on real quick,” he then said.

He got up from the chair, reached in his pocket, pulled out a doobie, and lit it with the candle flame. He inhaled it, sat back in the chair, and then exhaled. Bryson reached over his head to hand it to me. I took it from him and gave it a couple puffs until I started choking. I either overestimated myself, or this was the chronic shit that Dr. Dre used to rap about. Bryson stood up to tend to me and make sure I was alright.

“Easy, easy”, he said while trying to soothe me. “Don’t fight it. Take it in slowly, like this.”

Bryson demonstrated, then gently grabbed my face with his hand and blew the smoke into my mouth. I exhaled and we both stood there slightly stoned, yet full of adrenaline.

I snapped us both out of the daze and continued with his hair cut. I slowly worked my way to the front of the chair and began perfecting his hairline with precision. I paused as he reached out his hands and pulled me in between his legs by my hips, keeping them there until I finished. The weight and masculinity of them turned me on. I began lining up his mustache and trimming his beard while still occupying the space where his groin and my thigh met. Reaching behind him, my breast met his face as I grabbed my signature beard oil and began applying it thoroughly. Turning his head from left to right, I was impressed with my own work, especially while distracted. I complimented him with a shoulder massage—something I like to do every so often to add a smidge of luxury and to top off the experience. He rolled his neck around and from side to side to loosen his muscles and release tension. The feeling of his shoulder traps flexing exalted his manly qualities. I knew if I kept going, I’d be opening up a door that I’m not sure I would want to close.

“Alright, you’re all done,” I stated as I backed away from him.

“Oh, am I?” he questioned while pulling me back.

“You are. You weren’t due for another cut until next week, but you insisted on coming”, I said nonchalantly.

“Yeah, I did, huh?” he asked, rhetorically.

He tugged at the waistline of my pants until my lips were briefly exposed. I was taken aback and quickly pulled them back up. He sat there and stared at me with a slight grin as I remained standing front and center of him.

“Lower the chair”, he ordered.

I was confused, but I complied and used my foot on the lever until his head was adjacent to my thigh gap.

“That’s better”, Bryson stated as he attempted to lower my pants, again. This time, I didn’t resist. I let him do what we both wanted him to do.

 Assisting him pull my right ankle through the rest of my pant leg, he slowly lifted my leg over his shoulder while helping me keep my balance. He brought his freshly groomed mustache into union with my moist labia. I tried to push his head away until he grabbed my hand and interlocked our fingers. It became a challenge—a challenge that I liked. He began devouring me as his tongue flickered and his lips sucked on all the right places. I stopped fighting the urge to make him stop, and grinded in his face, making sure he covered all areas—front to back. The vibration of him humming to what seemed like a melody on my clitoris elicited nothing short of elation. I pulsated, and pulsated some more, shaking uncontrollably until I erupted. I pulled away and watched him lick his lips. I looked at him, looking at me, with a half-smile and a beard that glistened even more now than before. He stood up in front of the mirror and rubbed his hands around his fade, then down to his facial hair in admiration of my work. He turned to me and clutched my chin, then drew in to kiss me, assuring I could taste every drop of the sweetness I left on his lips.

He cleaned himself off to make sure he looked decent enough to step back out into the public. I walked him to the door with little to no words, but so much satisfaction. I was pleased, and he knew it.

“Same time next week?” he asked.

I thought to myself, “He won’t need another haircut by—,” then immediately cut off my overthinking before I robbed myself of a sequel.

As he exited, he turned around and asked, “What was the song, Sabrina?”

He sneered vindictively while I had a look of confusion on my face. I then realized that he was referring to the humming melody that had me squirming uncontrollably, which was another challenge for him to know, and for me to find out.  

Hustle & Flow.

It was brick in North Carolina. I’m talking thirty-five degrees. The only thing that was keeping niggas hot was Dreamville—the gentlemen’s club. I dropped shorty off there a few hours ago to do her thing, you know, to make her rounds and whatnot. I had a few rounds to make myself. I’d like to say that I’m an organized man. I had every ounce of product pre-cut, zipped, priced and categorized. Whatever the demand was, I had the supply. I always kept it professional. That’s what I was known for. I had no time for mishaps or miscalculations. Time was money and money was time.

The night was still young and I made more in an hour than I usually made in three. I made a stop on sixteenth and third to switch cars, then continued my route. The block wasn’t hot with cops so we all took advantage. We bartered, negotiated, and everybody was left satisfied. I only planned to sell the heavy shit, but a few partners wanted nickel and dime bags too, so I sold it for petty cash to clear up some space. My prospected profit was damn near tripled and I was more than content with that, so I and others gathered everything together to wrap the night up. All clientele was punctual as we met back up at the cabaret once business was handled to keep things smooth and under wraps.

Kassidy was performing center stage when I made my entrance. We made eye contact and her eyes smiled at me, meanwhile the rest of her face was on seduction mode. I knew she was ready for me to come back and swoop her up. One dance was enough to cover her for the week—sometimes even two weeks, yet she went ahead and entertained twice for the latecomers until I doubled back. She didn’t enjoy it, hell, neither did I enjoy her dancing in front of strangers, but I didn’t belong to her and she didn’t belong to me. I met her as a hustler, and didn’t have to turn her into one. We both knew that what we were doing was temporary, and neither one of us were proud of it, but we bit the bullet and kept pushing through.

Security knew my face and who I was there for, so I made it backstage to meet up with her, hassle-free.

“Zay,” said Kassidy. “I’m ready.”

Man, I loved to hear her say that shit. She struggled carrying garbage bags full of money from the back door to the car until I looked at her and told her to stop—as usual. She saw how serious I was, so she did. I took each bag, threw them in the trunk, and opened the door for her. As we headed to the house, she began evolving from who her customers knew her as, which was “Ginger”, back into Kassidy. She pulled her false eyelashes off and took a makeup wipe out of the glove compartment to wipe her face clean.

 We made it back to the spot. Moving like clockwork, I managed to make one trip bringing the bags inside. Kassidy rushed to the shower and must’ve scrubbed her body with an African sponge and Dr. Bronner’s soap over three times, seeing how long she took. And yes, I know the products she uses. So what? She always told me how disgusting she felt afterwards and how she couldn’t wait to bathe, so I understood.

While she was in the bathroom doing her thing, I began emptying my own weight and counting loot. I calculated our monthly bills and expenses as well as our estimated earnings. Shit was looking up. The money came fast, and so did the bills, which is why we hustled and agreed to be roommates. We started making more than ends meet. We just weren’t about that paycheck-to-paycheck life and had no problem being misunderstood. That’s where the love came in; in the friendship that we both found in each other.

She finally came out into the living room with me after her “me time”, I guess. The clean aroma of her almond soap she had used filled the entire apartment. I watched her walk to the kitchen and eyeballed her the entire time. I know she could feel it. Chick didn’t even know the half about my true feelings for her, so I had to follow suit and keep it “G” like she did, although we both knew what it was. We couldn’t let shit slip between us. We’d both get killed. I mean, she’s my homeboy’s woman and I was told to keep shit steady while he was locked up, which is how she got into this stripping gig in the first place—to help support herself while he was away. I’m supposed to play the “brother” role between the two, but ain’t shit brotherly about me wanting her in the worse way.

“I’m making tea. You want some?” she asked as I snapped out of my daze.

“Nah…I’m aight,” I answered.

Damn, she even looked good in sweats, a long john, and tube socks. Her face was bare and her freckles were prominent. She had a head full of red hair that was her natural hair color—hence her dancing name, “Ginger”. I wondered if it was red down there too. I couldn’t help but think about it. I’m a man with an attractive ass female roommate who I’m secretly in love with, but can’t have. Ain’t that some shit. She placed her mug down on the coffee table and emptied her bags, preparing to compute. The money counter expedited the process as she’d rubber band each hundred. I admired her ambition. She saved and didn’t spend her money on frivolous things so she could make her way out of the environment that she was working in.

“What you looking at?” she asked, flirtatiously. She formed a half-smile with the left side of her mouth curved upward as she finished up her count.  

“You already know,” I replied in shyness, but realness.

Kassidy loved to act oblivious about the tension between us. “Actually, I don’t.”

“Well, I guess we’ll have to keep hustling together and going with the flow until you do.”

I picked my shit up off the floor and headed to my room for the night to avoid my self-inflicted frustration. I knew I left her mind-boggled; staggering between loyalty and love.

Torn In Between the Two.

Prologue:

A’mina had been neglected by Hakeem since he started this new job. His career seemed more important than her at times, and she could no longer keep tabs on how often she’d been put on the back-burner due to his work addiction. He’d wake up talking about his prestigious position, then go to bed talking about it too. He wasn’t emotionally present when she needed him to be, but his physical companionship was nothing short of satisfaction. Hakeem’s perpetual habits and disappearing acts caused her to distance herself and branch out— searching to fill the void that he left empty. 

Monday-2:22 a.m.

The phone rang. “Hello?” A’mina answered in her raspy, sleepy voice. “Hellooo?” she repeated.

“What up?” said the voice on the other end.

“Chad?” asked A’mina.

“Yeah, it’s me. What are you up to? Did I wake you up?”

Amina pulled the phone away from her ear and looked at it with squinting eyes—wondering if this phone call was actually happening in the wee hours.

“Umm…you do know that it’s two o’clock in the morning, right?” A’mina inquired, trying her best not to sound rude.

“Yeah, but I wanted to hear your voice,” Chad responded.

A’mina quickly hung up the phone, in fear that the masculinity in his voice would be overheard if she continued talking to him. She activated the do not disturb feature and placed her phone face down on the nightstand. The comforter tugged as Hakeem turned his body towards her.

Hakeem’s lips parted, “Mina?”

“Huh?” she replied.

Hakeem, now looking up at the ceiling, called her name once again—and this time, more stern, “Mina?”

A’mina adjusted herself to lay parallel to him, now looking at his side profile.

“Yes, Hakeem?” she said in annoyance.

“Who were you on the phone with?” he asked.

A’mina sighed, “Nobody.”

Hakeem’s head turned slowly from the ceiling to A’mina. Streaks of the orange streetlights peaked through the blinds, exposing the seriousness on his face and breaking the darkness in the room. He could feel her lies, crawling through his veins in rage, yet in sorrow, knowing that her love was slipping away. Their bond had become abandoned and he took accountability for it, yet he never admitted it. He only knew one thing that would keep her under his wing and coming back for more—hoping she wouldn’t share what was once all his with any other man. On the other hand, he wasn’t sure how long that thing would suffice, but he gave it to her as often as his job would allow.

A’mina’s throat was embraced by Hakeem’s large hand as he placed his weight onto her and inserted himself into undeniable bliss. He stared into her eyes, trying to salvage what was left of their relationship, and she stared back. His jaw muscles flexed as he bit down on his teeth from the intensity of pleasure. Her lotus became more and more saturated as he grew inside of her. Their sounds of love-making caused the tenants beneath them to bang their ceiling, in hopes of quieting them down. That was a fail.

Orgasmic vibrations dominated A’mina’s entire being. She had no self-control and came all over Hakeem. Her warm fluids provoked him. He was always up for a challenge. He wanted more of her, and vice versa. Her head was faced down and buried between the pillows as Hakeem brought her lower torso upward, towards him. Both of her apertures were flaunted in his view, and so were her back dimples that he admired so much. He tapped her anus with the head of his manhood, then inserted into her womanly womb. Grabbing her waist with both hands, he began slowly and sensually stroking her. Removing one hand from her waist, he grabbed her butt cheek and started caressing it as he continued. Hakeem then placed his thumb over her unaccompanied hole, and began moving it in a circular motion. He got another rush out of her—inciting his. Hakeem sped as he got more and more excited. He interlocked his fingers behind his head and closed his eyes—savoring the moment. A’mina felt him tense up and prepared for his outpouring. Holding her down to receive all he could give, Hakeem exploded into A’mina’s canal for the first time throughout their two-year relationship. Love, resentment, and frustration clouded A’mina’s thoughts as Hakeem pulled her into his chest. Although Hakeem felt as though he might’ve trapped her, Amina was smarter than he thought.

5:17 a.m.

Hakeem’s alarm alerted after he snoozed it twice. He headed to the bathroom and closed the door in efforts not to wake A’mina, but she was never asleep. A’mina overheard him brushing his teeth, then turning on the shower. She picked up her phone and noticed three missed calls and seven messages from Chad.

A’mina got worried and considered it safe to call him back, so she did.

Chad answered, “Look. I’ve been calling you, messaging you, what’s up? Just be real and tell me what it is. If I’m a nuisance, tell me. If I’m not, tell me. Tell me something.”

Just the sound of his voice gave her butterflies, yet guilt filled her conscious when she recognized his sincerity.

“I mean, I was honestly offended and caught off guard when you hung up in my face. I found that to be very disrespectful, love. I would never do that shit to you, “Chad confessed.

“Chad, I didn’t mean anything by it. It was late and I was asleep,” A’mina explained.

Chad wasn’t buying her excuses. “A’mina, how many times have you woke up and stayed on the phone with me while I worked the graveyard shift over the past few months of us kicking it? What’s different now?”

A’mina was speechless because she knew it was true. What was different was the fact that Hakeem’s new position also came with new hours. She was used to him being out of the house and on the road by 1:45 a.m., being that he had an hour commute and liked showing up early.

The bathroom door opened and she laid on her side with the phone tucked between her ear and the pillow. She pretended as though she was still asleep, but observed Hakeem’s every move. He placed his uniform on, sprayed on a few pumps of cologne, and gave her a forehead kiss. She kept her eyes closed until she heard the front door close behind him and his car pullout from the driveway.

Adjusting the phone to her liking, A’mina continued with Chad, “Let me make it up to you.”

“Make it up to me? Hmm…aight. I get off at seven. Is that cool?”

“Cool,” A’mina said, smiling from ear to ear. Not even a man who she’s been with for years made her grin the way Chad did.

After resting her eyes for a while, A’mina cleaned herself up and locked Hakeem’s door behind her. She headed to her apartment and assembled her patio table for her and Chad to eat a home cooked breakfast on. She whipped up home fries, scrambled eggs, and a few slices of turkey bacon. As she began preparing the plates, Hakeem sent her an “I Love You” message, elaborating that his love for her was never lost and how he hoped she would find her love for him again. The message hit her like a ton of bricks. Neither Chad, nor Hakeem knew about one another. A’mina tried keeping things balanced, believing that what they didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them, and meanwhile she was hurting herself. She was in too deep, never thinking she could be in love with two men—but she was: Hakeem, the businessman who was financially stable and fulfilled her lustful desires, then Chad, who was more rough around the edges and knew what to say and how to say it, whom she shared undeniable chemistry with. She felt stuck in between a rock and a hard place, as she juggled between a man who stroked her physically and a man who stroked her emotions like no other.

Fire & Desire.

Joshua eased behind Carmen after witnessing her burn herself while taking fish out of the oven. He turned her around by her hips and gently grabbed her wounded hand. Josh inserted her thumb into his mouth, hoping to pacify the pain—literally. Carmen glared at him, in agony, yet in pleasure. He looked her in her eyes and moved on to put her index, middle, ring, then pinky finger in between his lips—inserting, then withdrawing each one, slowly and passionately.

Carmen’s fingers were slightly coated from the moisture of Josh’s saliva, which she utilized to massage his manhood. Slight groans exited his oral tunnel—masculine and deep. She wanted to play a fair game. She knelt down and entrapped as much of Josh as she could, with sporadic “I love you’s” coming from her mouth, simultaneously. Carmen’s grip got more intense, as well as the hold on her hair from the ponytail that Josh made within his clench. Their motion became in sync; more and more rhythmic. Josh tried returning the verbiage, but almost lost his balance and could barely contain himself. As soon as he tried holding onto the overheated stove, an outburst of pain and pleasure arose—leaving him injured, but satisfied.

Carmen quickly swallowed, stood, and wiped her lips. “What, what?!” she said, vehemently.

“I burned the shit out of my hand, not realizing the stove was hot from the oven being on.” After inspecting Josh’s hand, a laugh ensued from both lovers.

“I’ve got something for that,” Carmen said. She waddled to the bathroom and came back to Josh sitting on the couch. She joined him and gathered a dollop of Vaseline to spread on his now, blistered flesh. She kissed the top of his fist as a mother does a child when they’ve gotten a “boo-boo”. Oddly enough, he was immediately alleviated.

The fire from their candle projected a glisten onto the gold necklace that rested upon Josh’s defined collarbones, as he sat shirtless and fulfilled. Carmen couldn’t help but stare. He looked at her looking at him, and blushed, innocently. Josh realized that he didn’t get the opportunity to express his love for Carmen as he’d wanted to, not wanting to leave her uneasy. He already reached his peak and had no more to give—at least that’s what he thought.

“You know, I would’ve loved to feel you internally, and fill you too,” Josh admitted. “But you took me to a place I couldn’t come back from.”

Carmen responded, “Well, you still have those lips and that tongue that are neither burnt, bruised, nor emptied. Matter of fact, they’ve already resolved one of my issues, now how about they fix another.”

Her legs departed from one another and exposed her labia that was hidden under the oversized t-shirt, belonging to Josh. Josh’s slight force, pushing her forehead back to lay her down, made Carmen yearn for him even more. He placed a rose quartz crystal and an opal stone vertical between her breasts, and opened her up. She began vibrating at a higher frequency instantaneously, and filled her mind with pleasurable thoughts, which ultimately exuded onto Josh’s taste buds. He then swallowed, too—feeling just as satisfied as before, but then an aroma came about.

The smoke detector alarmed, shocking both of them. They were so caught up in each other’s passion, that they had neglected the other dishes that were left in the oven. Carmen took a kitchen towel, swaying it under the smoke detector to shut it off, while Josh used the one good hand that he had left to take out what was a pound cake and a sheet of roasted vegetables.

 “Aw man, but I’m hungry,” Carmen whined. Josh couldn’t help but burst into laughter. Eventually, she did, too.

“Put on your slippers, babe. Let’s go get a Popeye’s chicken sandwich and call it a night. I mean, you’re eating for two now, so there’s no need to try and eat around burnt scraps of food when we can make it easier on ourselves and go to a drive-thru.”

“But I wanted to cook for my man,” Carmen explained, batting her eyes childishly.

Josh caressed the back of her neck and pulled her into him, “I understand and I appreciate that, but tonight was nothing short of fire and desire…no pun intended.” They snickered.

Carmen even snorted, “It’s the baby.”

“Mmhm. The baby my ass,” Josh added, humorously.

The Popeye’s drive-thru was wrapped around the building. It looked like a family affair in the parking lot. Carmen’s legs were plopped up on the passenger seat, leaving enough room for her pregnant belly to fit in between them, comfortably. Josh took a glance at her lip imprint and of course, had to touch. Carmen didn’t mind—not one bit. Finally making it to the intercom, they ordered four chicken sandwiches and two large beverages, then headed back home. They sat high in Josh’s all black truck, while UGK thumped through their speakers. Carmen began unwrapping her food on the way since she was starved, leading to Josh parking at a nearby park for both of them to indulge. He opened the sunroof to expose the stars and let in the breeze. They couldn’t wait to get back to their abode to heat things back up again…literally.

Bag Lady.

Erykah Badu’s Mama’s Gun album shuffled as Toni prepared for her day ahead. She arose out of bed, then made it back up. She got up earlier than she usually would, with no alarm. As she showered, she prayed and said her affirmations. Headed to the kitchen, she fed her poodle and gave him a good morning kiss. Eggs benedict, toasted avocado bread, and a mimosa has been on her mind since the previous night, so she assembled all three. She sat at her breakfast nook and started a new read by Eric Jerome Dickey, her favorite author. His books were always a page-turner, so she finished a third of it alone while eating breakfast. Cleaning up her plate and other parts of her apartment, she lit some incense, burned some Palo Santo, and meditated.

While still in her meditation position, Toni took down her crown. She grabbed some beeswax that was at her feet and began retwisting her roots. Her fingers became sore and her hands began to cramp, as she did her annual maintenance on her butt-length dreadlocks. Her pen and journal still lied on the floor from yesterday, along with moving equipment.

Shifting through her bags that she hasn’t unpacked yet, she came across things that put her in a melancholy mood. One of those things was her old engagement ring. Dark memories made their way back into her mind when she put it on. Rambling even deeper into the bag, she pulled out what would’ve been her wedding dress. Although she knew she’d never be with her ex again, she thought that it would get put to use in case she did get married one day. As she continued, her college basketball jersey was now at the top of the pile, dusty and wrinkled. Her father invested so much money for her to play in the WNBA, but when she called it quits, he disowned her. He wanted to live his dreams of playing in the NBA, vicariously through her. Although she was an amazing ball player, her heart wasn’t in it. She played solely for him. She desired a father-daughter relationship that was only present through his true love—basketball. It weighed heavy on her for years, yet she never expressed it to him.

So many of Toni’s emotions were reserved and that created rage and sadness within. She walked around, dragging issues that were never discussed, or cared to be discussed by anyone except her. The bags that she needed to unpack became much more than just items from her old apartment, but poignant hindrances that needed to be addressed and disposed of. Her day started great until she began stumbling upon the things that weighed heavy on her soul. She didn’t want to relive her past or even think of it.

She put the ring, the dress and jersey back where she found them. She thought twice and took the ring back out so that she could pond it for some extra cash. Smart girl. Two bags that held unhealthy burdens and somber sentiment went down the trash compactor to never be retraced again. Toni’s weight shifted and she felt alleviation, as she learned to pack light, forgive, and let go of the unnecessary baggage. Alexa, play “Bag Lady” by Erykah Badu.

“Bag lady you gon’ hurt your back

Dragging all them bags like that

I guess nobody ever told you

All you must hold onto, is you, is you, is you”

Corner Store Chronicles.

As Ahmad opened the freezer, he and an unexpected stranger’s hand had both reached for the last butter pecan Haagen Daz ice cream. The air exiting from the freezer became crucial as it stung him in the face. “Oh, I’m sorry…you can take it ma’am,” Ahmad suggested.

The lady laughed, “I don’t want to be unfair. I mean, you did open the door. I was reaching inside while I had the chance.”

They both stood in the petite New York corner store, going back and forth about who should get the ice cream. They both really wanted it, but didn’t want to seem inconsiderate. “You know what, the cookies and cream is always a second runner-up for me, so we both win,” said Ahmad, trying to make her feel less guilty while exemplifying chivalry. He grabbed a cookies and cream ice cream as she finally gave in and took him up on his offer. They both walked to the front of the bodega to pay.

The register clerk rang her up for her items—“It’ll be nine dollars and twenty-two scents.”

She scuffled around her purse, looking for her debit card. As she pulled it out, the clerk gave her an attitude and stated that she could only use debit if she spent ten dollars or more. “Are you serious?” she exclaimed. “I don’t have any cash on me right now.” Ahmad overheard the dilemma.

“Uh, I have cash.”

Dawn emitted, “Oh no. You already let me take the last butter pecan ice cream, and now you’re offering to pay for it? I couldn’t possibly.”

He pulled out his wallet—“It’s nothing.”

Leaving the corner store, they stood outside and interchanged words. “Wow. I can’t thank you enough. That was extremely embarrassing” she declared. “I would’ve had to leave empty-handed, walking back home at seven o’clock in the morning from a blank trip to get some ice cream.”

Ahmad followed up with sarcasm, “Nooo, it wasn’t. It happens to me all the time. Although, there is a huge neon sign on the outside of the door, and on the register, and on the freezer doors, and posted on the walls…but who reads signs anymore, right?” They laughed and made light of the situation.

“By the way, what’s your name, miss?”

Daylight began peaking from the horizon when she answered, “Dawn”.

Oh, the irony.

“Well, nice to meet you, Dawn. I’m Ahmad”.

“Ahmad like that kid from the Soul Food movie?” Dawn joked.

“Oh, so you’re trying to be funny, huh? Ahmad was enthused. What do you know about such a classic film, anyway?”

“Well, that’s one of my top five favorite movies.”

“Oh yeah? And the other four?” Ahmad questioned with genuine curiosity.

“Do the Right Thing, Love Jones, Poetic Justice, and Jason’s Lyric.”

“Ok, ok. You got a nice selection. See, my top five would consist of Friday, Menace to Society, Boyz N the Hood, Harlem Knights, and Coming to America. I could go on, but you know…”

They stood outside of the store for hours, unconsciously reciprocating chemistry. People walked by and spoke, yet they hadn’t noticed. They were so deeply intrigued with each other’s interests. They hadn’t realized the ice cream in their grocery bags had melted, until a drop leaked on Dawn’s foot.

“Hold on, let me grab a napkin,” Ahmad offered.

He went inside the corner store and came back out with a handful of wipes. As Dawn extended her arm to grab some, Ahmad leaned over and wiped the melted ice cream off of her instead. His nonchalant, yet courteous act excited her—yes, in that way. She stood there speechless. She just looked at him wiping her foot, then gathering the tissues and throwing them away in a nearby trash bin. When he returned to her, he’d realized the gazed look on her face. Ahmad could tell she wasn’t used to being treated that way due to her shocked demeanor.

“Are you alright?” inquired Ahmad, as his eyebrows raised and forehead wrinkled.

She hesitated, “Um…yeah.”

The initial morning breeze that they felt earlier was now humid and sticky. It became uncomfortable to be outside, but neither one of them wanted to risk not seeing each other again—plus, Ahmad’s shift was starting in less than an hour. He didn’t want to leave, but he had his priorities in check.

“Love, time is flying and I have work in a little while. What about you? What you got planned?”

Dawn stood with her legs crossed as well as her arms put behind her back—just as a shy teenage girl would.

“Well, uh…the weather doesn’t permit me to be outside and roam around, so I’ll be posted at my spot, you know? Getting my creative juices flowing.”

Ahmad wondered, “Oh yeah? What are you creative in?”

Dawn looked into his eyes, “Many things.”

He smirked, she didn’t, and then his expression turned into a serious stare. She got a glimpse of his badge which stated that he worked at the Manhattan Water Plant, as she walked away, leaving his mind yearning to know more. They went their separate ways, hoping to meet again at the corner store.