Eastian is a thirty-four year old single black man, with no kids; he grew up in Phoenix, Arizona. He enjoys his lifestyle with plenty of options, especially when the subject of discussion is about white girls. Standing about six foot three inches tall, two hundred and five pounds solid, bald-head and dark-skinned, he’s very well presented, with a charming personality to match.
He openly admits he’s got a few issues concerning his trust for women, but his sex drive is the monster within that needs them daily. He lives alone, but this isn’t immediately apparent, as there’s always some woman around, but not always the same one, either. Ironically, they all look better leaving than they do coming; that is, when they’re done ‘coming’. He’s a home-cooked meal type of man and has a short fuse for foolishness.
He doesn’t smoke or do drugs, but he’s game for some brown whiskey, preferably in a dirty glass. He’s definitely got his granddaddy’s blood. Mr. Roebuck was a tall lanky, Lincoln Continental-drunk driving mothafucka.
“Bartender, let me get another short glass of that shit. Gon’ keep it dirty for me, baby. No ice either. I like my brown whiskey at room temperature”, you can hear him say.
Soft spoken with a deep voice, he has bitter feelings towards black women; not all of them, just a particular few who feel a sense of self-entitlement towards black men who date white girls – and in a black woman’s eyes, not just any white girl, but the first white bitch walking up looking for her very own black Mandingo. Many an argument he’s had with them about this, and as the discussion got nice and warm, he’d cuss their asses out every time. He’d talk about their momma’s, their kids, any pets they own, and their pastors. He likes what he likes, and that’s white women.
He’s a decent man with good character and a compassionate heart but get on his bad side and you’d wish your mother never birthed you.
Scanning the bar scoping out all the ass. His eyes unintentionally spot a couple black women who, in his eyes, cease to amaze – talking extra loud and laughing like they’re the only people in the goddamn bar.
With his drink in hand, thinking to himself, “Goddamn, I’m sick of them bitches. Nobody wants to hear that bullshit! Shut the fuck up, already!”
He’s certainly no stranger to replacing these vixens if, in his rule book, they ever got out of line. So, on this evening, he’d been watching one in particular, a white girl as usual, moving around on the dance floor.
She’d been drinking Midori Sours and hanging with her girlfriends. Studying the way she moved, fantasizing about fucking her in the trunk of his car, sipping his drink, spitting the ice out – he’d made his assessment.
“She’s gotta be oblivious to me staring at that ass on her,” he thought.
He saw her whispering something to her friend who then left the dance floor. Maybe she knew he was staring at her, then again maybe not, but it didn’t make a difference to him, he was already on his way like a cheetah creeping through tall grass, honing in on a sure kill.
Under the disco-ball he tapped her on her shoulder. She turned around and there he was.
“Well aren’t you a nice surprise,” she said.
“My name is Lynne, and you are…”
“Eastian,” he said, standing strong – standing confident.
“You want to dance with me, Eastian?”
“We’re already dancing, sweet mama.”
They danced like they’d known each other from another space and time. Sweat rolled down their faces, heartbeats thumped like tribal drums in the Serengeti; it was seductively primal. They danced nearly an hour straight before finally taking a break at the bar, on a couple empty chairs over a few drinks sauced up with flirty conversation. Fortunately for him, this was his format – a plot for panties over bleu cheese and calamari.
Drawing her closer, he could see she was enjoying his company, but he could also see that she was married from the shining details built into the enormous rock on her finger.
Sipping his whiskey like it’d been poured directly from its oak cask, and his face like he hated the taste, he watched her out of the corner of his eye from time to time, as she silently struggled to remove the ring from her finger, finally slipping it into a tiny pocket in her skirt, as if he wasn’t paying attention.
“That’s why I’m never getting married; sneaky bitches,” he thought.
But even still, this wasn’t nearly enough to turn him off; he didn’t give a shit about her marriage, and it was very apparent to him, she didn’t give a shit either, otherwise she wouldn’t be in the company of a mothafucka touching on her the way he was.
He wears a watch that he’s set five minutes fast – reasoning that he’ll always be one step ahead of these pretty bitches anywhere he goes. He was only interested in finding out how wet he could make her and how much of her mind she’d give him. His endgame would be to use his dick to siphon whatever he wanted from her; over and over again, and due to the lack of attention she was receiving at home, she’d never even see his guerilla pimpin’ at work. It would all just seem like a grand ole time to her, but for him….this was…the nightshift, and he was clocked in like a motherfucker.
Right away he made her feel like the center of all things; technically she was, but he was hoping to eventually make her the center of his bedroom. Rubbing her hands, complementing her left and right, talking about her perfume and pretty lips, but really he was thinking, “I bet you can suck a good dick.”
They talked about their careers, love life, and other things that shots of alcohol would allow, and out of nowhere a tear dropped down her face. Reaching over to rub her shoulder, he said, “What’s the emotional part about, my friend? What’s happening in that head of yours?”
By the nature of the interaction, and how close they’d gotten, this motherfucker knew she was just a kitten scratching at his back door, needing a plate of milk, and if it all went his way, he’d have something she can drink, alright; going to drive his dick down her throat.
“Well, I’ve just been thinking about my marriage lately,” she said. “There’s a pretty noticeable distance between my husband and I, but not sure when it started happening.”
“Simple things like sitting in a bar together like you and I are doing, hasn’t happened in years. He doesn’t care or even try to show any interest in me outside of the bedroom. Speaking of which, it’s going on eight months since the last time he moved me around the bed. We’re just not intimate. I know that’s too much information but it really hurts. Here I am with you, and we don’t even know each other, but I feel like I’ve known you already.”
Taking a drink of his watered down glass of whiskey, he then said, “Well, good people do recognize good people, and you certainly appear to be a good woman. So I don’t understand why he’d disregard you like that. It’s a shame. Here I stand, a single man, enjoying this evening with a beautiful woman, who unfortunately for me, is already married. Go figure.”
He was already mind fucking her, and with all her pain and emotion on display, it made his dick harder, and her sadness meant it’d only be a matter of time before her desire to be acknowledged and appreciated would be met by his sexual appetite. He was covertly marginalizing her marriage, but just enough that she’d feel justified, in her own right, in letting him stuff her ass with mule dick when the time came for it.
He ordered another drink for himself and two fireball shots for her.
“Here you go, that’s for you. If you like hot cinnamon, you’ll fall in love with these bad boys.”
She drank both shots like it was minus five degrees outside and she was about to jump on a shrimp boat.
The night was going as planned in his eyes, and at that point they’d been there at the bar for at least the last four hours. The happy hour crowd was beginning to thin out. Her friends were waving their hands trying to get her attention. They were heading out to their cars, but still waiting for her even though she drove separately.
“Who’re they?” he asked.
“Oh, they’re just some old friends of mine, one of them is my secretary,” she said.
As far as he was concerned, they were all just the typical group of cock-blocking, do-right bitches; and in short, an immediate threat to his groundwork.
A few more minutes passed and she decided it was time for her to head on home, too. As they walked down past the server area of the bar, she turned to say goodnight but he’d already reached for her hand and led her through coat check to a private lounge area on the other side. He had a few more words for her, and well, she had a few words, too.
“You know I saw you take the ring off your finger, right? But it’s okay. I mean, who am I to judge? I don’t know what’s going on in your home and in your marriage…”
“Well I think I told you I was married. I’m so intoxicated, I don’t even remember. Anyway, what’s your point? Tell me something.”
“I just want to know if we can be friends,” he said. Is that…”
“Yes, of course I can have friends,” she said. “But is that what you’re truly after, a friend, Eastian? A good-looking man like yourself probably doesn’t have a want for anything. You probably have women hitting on you all day. I’m not stupid. If I weren’t married, I’d probably let you get between my legs on the first date.”
“I know for a fact. I’d even put money on it. You’ve been hitting on me the entire night, buying me drinks, sending me drinks, whatever. I mean even before you came to the dance floor, I saw you watching me. So do you really want to be my friend or do you want to see my titties bouncing in your face? Oh my god, I can’t believe I just said that. I’m really fucking drunk. But I know how you black men like it. You want to fuck me, don’t you? Admit it. Just admit it.”
“Well, first of all,” he said, “I never sent you any drinks – that’s a chicken shit move if you ask me. But I did buy you drinks, and I will gladly take credit for the motherfucker out there, who went broke, getting you all primed and ready for a rooster like me.”
Laughing, she said, “Oh my god, where do you get the things you say. It’s adorable.”
He looked down, taking her hands into his, and said, “Yeah, I want to strap you down to my bed, teach you a few things. No, I’m kidding,” he said. But he was clearly telling the truth.
His response made her wet. She started biting her bottom lip and that’s when he leaned her against the wall and started kissing on her; in the same way he’d done another girl the night before. Tasting each other’s tongue, lips locked, her nipples hard, and his dick building up solid for her, he’d been working toward this moment since he laid eyes on her.
She pulled back and cut her eyes at where her ring was before she snaked it off. She must’ve briefly thought about her marriage, but Eastian kept overriding her better mind with his influence; bringing her back to the present moment, where he was tending to her. She loved how he admired her and listened to her story, yet for him, her mind and body were simply his jungle gym, and it was all for sport.
Kissing on her neck, he whispered, “I respect you and want to be someone you can talk to, but I don’t want interfere with your marriage. And yes, I do want a friendship, because from where I stand, we’re both alone, but at least you DO go home to someone.”
She didn’t know what to think with his lips on her skin, and his words in her ear; it was too much attention, but it felt right to her.
With his great big tree-climbing hands, he cupped her face, pushing the hair from her eyes, curling it around her ear and started kissing her again. A couple tears rolled down her cheek, she was lost and ready to resign her body to him. His lips making contact all over her shoulders, absorbing the smooth flow of her creamy skin, nibbling through her cleavage, down and around her breasts.
A deep breath, and another tear. She was thinking of her husband, but caught up in another man’s charm and touch, his influence wouldn’t let the innocent bird she was, go free. A casualty of seduction, her body fully ignited now and too far gone to turn back. She didn’t want to go back.
“Hold on,” she said, “I need to text my friend. I think they’re still waiting outside.”
–Hey Dawn, you guys can go on without me, I’m going to hang back a little while longer and get breakfast with a friend. Call ya tomorrow. xoxo”–
But he was no old friend; he was the devil himself.
She lifted her hair up and let it hair fall down her shoulders. She absorbed his every intention like sunrays penetrating a tanning body. With his hands on her shoulders, he slid the straps of her camisole down and told her to face the wall, like she’d done something wrong.
She raised her arms and he lifted the smooth fabric over her head, letting it fall to the hardwood floor. She put her hands up and let her breasts meet the coolness of the wall.
He pulled her skirt up over her hips and her wedding ring fell out of the small pocket where she’d stuffed it earlier. He saw it, she must’ve heard it, but with the bottom of his shoe, he nudged it out of sight, where she wouldn’t see it.
“Baby with an ass like this, a bee gon’ sting you, girl.”
Her body was tight, and her ass sat deliciously in his palms. His dick, flexing in his slacks; she could feel it rubbing against the crack of her ass. Wearing a blue and white laced thong that fit comfortably around her hips, he could hardly contain himself. He noticed a tattoo on her upper left thigh, and asked what it said.
“It’s Greek for Never forever,” she said.
“So does that mean you’re up for a little fun, pretty girl?”
“Well, I don’t see how you got all that from a little tattoo on my thigh, but judging from the arrangement we’re in at the moment, it would hardly seem I’m not.”
She turned around and placed her left hand behind his head and they started kissing again. With her right hand, she unbuckled his belt, still kissing. She unbuttoned his slacks, still kissing. Opened his zipper; still kissing. She pushed his pants down and reached into his boxers and pulled his dick out.
“Oh my god, you’re a goddamn racehorse,” she said, completely shocked by the size. “Does this thing drink water, too? Holy shit, you’re not sticking that thing in me, hell no. You need a dick reduction. It’s huge.”
“It’s just a dick,” he said.
“I want all of this,” she said, stroking it and looking at him.
“Nice and chocolate colored like a Snickers. Is it a Snickers, baby?”
“It might be, but you’ll have to squat down and give me your throat to find out,” he said, trying to hold in a shit-eatin’ grin.
She licked her thumb and slid it over the tip of his dick, activating the nerves. It made him grunt like a warthog, and then she stood up.
“Oh, you like that,” she said.
With his dick still in her hands, she said, “I haven’t been touched in months, let alone had sex. I want you to break my bones. Right here, tonight. I want you to break your dick off in me. I need to feel desired. I need you to punish me. Make me cry. Make me cum. Make me a whore. Make me keep a secret and I’ll keep any of yours.”
Sucking air between her clinched teeth and running her hands down his shirtless body, she looked at him again and said, “C’mon. I’ll beg if you want me to.”
With such conviction and desperation in her voice, he started sucking her nipples; grabbing her ass like a fire-bell was ringing and they needed to leave immediately. He lifted her up and she wrapped her legs around him. She reached down, grabbed his dick, slapped her clit with it a few times, and jammed it inside of her like she trying to hide it from the police. She hiccupped and her eyes rolled up into her head like half a dozen demons had instantly entered her.
“Oh, you feel so good, daddy. Oh god, pull that Cadillac up to the door, baby. Pull that Cadillac up to the door. Oh my god,” she said in a raspy, Stacey Dash-like voice.
“There is no god,” he replied.
She reached down with one hand and spread her lips apart. It sounded like wet lips around a piece of warm starburst candy. He started pumping her a little harder.
“Eastian, slow down, you can’t cum in me. I have to go home. My husband…oh shit, you feel so good….I’m still married baby, slow down.”
Short of breath, he responded, “Right! Exactly! That explains why you took the ring off, and why you’re in here with another man’s dick in your panties, right? Because you’re married? Shut your mouth and experience me,” he said in an out of breath whisper.
“You’ll never be fucked like this by any other man. I guarantee it; like sugar on a frosted flake,” he added.
Right as he finished chastising her, she made a sound like a wall of water was coming through her; “Ughhhhh. Oh no, I’m com….uuughhhh…Wait, wait, wai..uuuughhhh.” She looked like she was holding her breath, but the tug of back to back orgasms was too much on her diaphragm.
Standing up, fucking the gold coins out of her, his hands monstrously gripped her cakes. He was lifting and slamming her snatch up and down on his cock. He was in fact trying to break his dick off in her like she asked.
She closed her eyes and her body jerked. He pulled his dick out and she squirted all down his legs. She reached down, grabbed his dick again, and slid back down on it.
“Oh, god,” she said. “There is no god,” he whispered again.
He put her down and told her to turn around.
When she bent down; touching her toes. He slid into her like she was holding his place in line, talking to her the whole time.
“Why’s this pussy so tight, baby? There’s no way this pussy should be this tight. Ain’t no way in hell. Your husband, that som’bitch, don’t know what to do with all this ass on you, do he? I know for a fact, you ain’t never been this wet. That mothafucka is boy. Who’s the CEO of this so-called married pussy, girl?”
“Oh God Eastian, I love him, though. I think we should stop. Oh my god you feel so good inside me. Fill me up, keep going, daddy! I’m going to cum again. I’m coming, baby,” she screams.
With every stroke she came a little harder. He pulled it out, she turned around and took his dick down her throat.
“You better swallow all of it. No kids on the floor,” he said with his hand behind her head, slowly loading his hardened dick back and forth down her throat, bringing tears down her face, ruining her mascara. She was halfway gagging, but she received every inch like a champion; with only his balls hanging out of her mouth.
“Big girls don’t spit, and you never make a mess,” he said to her as the second wave of cock milk emptied down her throat.
Leaning against the wall afterwards, both of them out of breath; they started getting dressed, when a buzzing sound caught them off guard.
“Do you hear that?” she said.
“Yeah, what is that? Is that your phone?” he asked.
She reached for it and looked at the display; it was her husband calling.
“Is that that boy calling you? “We’re busy. Send his ass to voicemail,” he said, standing there with one leg in his pants.
It was obvious she was in thought somewhere, so he snatched the phone from her, and said, “Either you can answer and tell him I said ‘Hello, thanks for your wife and her sweet ass’, or, a smarter alternative like, ohhh, let’s saaay, not answering the goddamn phone! You need to come up with a side story on your way home. Tell him your phone fell in the seat on the freeway and you couldn’t reach it, or some shit like that. Whatever. Just don’t ever answer the phone in this type of a situation. Are you crazy or something?”
She looked at him in shock. “Wow, interested in being a life-coach? This isn’t your first magic show is it, Django? No, I don’t think it is,” she said.
He started laughing and wrote his number on a napkin sitting on the table across from them. She straightened herself out a little, put her high-heels back on, and said, “Thank you, you handsome man. I really needed that. I had a great time tonight. I need to go now.”
As she swung the door open, she smiled and winked back at him, biting her lip again, and headed for the ladies room. She tossed his number into the trashcan behind the bar, after quickly memorizing it. She wouldn’t dare bring another man’s phone number home.
Eastian waited a few more minutes before he took off. He didn’t want to create any suspicion about what might’ve been going on in there.
Hoping he had already taken off when she came out the ladies room, she walked out toward the exit with the feeling of guilt already setting in. She got to her car and started crying like she’d been holding it back all night.
She backed out and slowly drove off; coming to the red light at Scottsdale and Main St. She sat there for what seemed like an eternity. Reflections of the streetlights showed in the tracks of her tears. The light turned green with an arrow, and she made the left, heading north on Scottsdale Road. The quest for an alibi had begun.
Listening to “Pony Up” by Kings of Leon, he’d finally gotten home for the night, walked in smelling like married pussy, and locked the door. He tossed the keys across the counter, turned the flat screen on, and ran upstairs to shower. As soon as he stepped out, his cellphone rang. It was a number he hadn’t recognized, and normally he wouldn’t think twice about not answering that type of call, certainly not at that time of night – but feeling a bit accomplished, he did, and the voice on the other end was an angry one; sounding slightly redneck-ish.
“Have you been fucking my wife, you motherfucker? I’m gonna cut your goddamn head off and shit down your neck, partner!”
“Look here mu’afucka,” Eastian responded, “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, and I don’t know your wife. I don’t know nobody’s wife; but that don’t mean the bitch don’t know about me. Furthermore, I don’t know you and I sure as hell don’t appreciate this phone call, from you or no other mothafucka, you redneck-sounding bastard, you. I don’t care who it is. Don’t ask me about some hypothetical woman that ain’t mine. You got her name? What’s the bitch look like? Maybe you dialed the wrong goddamn number, but what you need to do is ask your bitch if she’s fucking someone. I advise you not to call this number anymore!” and hung up.
He got dressed, and the doorbell rang.
“Goddamn, who the hell is ringing my doorbell this late? Shit!”
Looking through the peephole, it’s a girl he’s been trying to distance himself from since the day she drove her car through his back wall and into his swimming pool. Opening the door, and through the security screen, he said, “Listen here, ole’ crazy ass girl, the pool is in the back!”
She slid an envelope under the screen and walked away. He knelt down and opened it to find a check, and quickly opened the door.
“Hey, Alexis, come here. Come in for a second.”
She’d already opened her car door and was getting inside when she stopped and went back to him. Alexis is a twenty-six year old snowbunnie with grey eyes. She’s about five foot four inches tall, and one hundred forty-five pounds of solid fitness. She’s an only child and has inherited a few million dollars from her deceased father’s will. He died a few months back and was the only family she had left on that side. Her mother passed away during labor, and her father never bothered to stay in touch with her mother’s side for her sake, and yet, despite all of that, she’s very much grounded, independent and as level headed as most others.
She lives alone in Fountain Hills and only has a couple really close girlfriends who come to town every month to host wine events. She had another really close friend, but they don’t speak to each other outside of their business relationship now. She loves Barnes & Noble and follows the New Age mindset; astrology, numerology, crystals, and things like that.
Her hair is short, slightly below her chin, and she works out at LifeTime Fitness. She’s not shy but not too social either. Certainly no initiator of conversation but would make the necessary eye contact to get her point across – just as she’d done with Eastian, the night they met. It was a wine tasting event at Kierland Commons about two years ago, and she’s been head over heels for him ever since.
“How come you don’t return my phone calls or any of my texts?” she asked.
“Well, honestly, after the pool incident, I’d had my fill of you, but more than that, I know you wanted more than what we have, well, had, but I wasn’t, and still am not, looking for the same thing as you. I like to date openly. I like coming and going without being questioned about where I’m going or who I’m with. Relationships aren’t my thing right now, and I like my life without the responsibility and maintenance of a relationship. Do you understand what I’m saying? I love you, and I really care about you, but right now, I want to be selfish with my time. I want to do what I want, when I want. I can’t reasonably think that I can be this way and be in a committed relationship. I just can’t. It’d be too hard on us both,” he said.
“So, what are you saying?” she said.
“Are you going to be in the bars for the rest of your life? Are you going to be drinking and partying, fucking a bunch of shallow bitches who don’t want anything for themselves in life, but reverse-happy hour? Is that what you want for yourself? Is that the caliber of woman you want? You don’t want kids, a great home, and a smart, beautiful woman? I mean, are you content with that outlook, Eastian?”
65 Miles (across the hallway)
“Whoa! Look Alexis, I want all of that, but there’s a place and time for it, and right now I don’t want to fall into that mold yet,” he said.
There was a silence come over them. Something occurred to him and he looked up at her and asked, “Alexis, what are you doing here at this time of night? Don’t tell me it’s because you wanted to give me a check for the pool, either. What are you really doing here?”
“Well, you weren’t returning my calls or text messages and I wanted to see you. I miss you. I’m very sorry for what I did. I know this isn’t what you were bargaining for when we met, but I do miss you.”
“You got that right. I didn’t bargain for any of this. It was all about being in good company. Then it went bad,” he said.
“Well, you were in my house flirting with my friends and shit, how do you think that made me feel?” she said. “Like I said, I’m sorry. I want to make it right. I want to make it up to you somehow.”
She stood up, walked to the back of the loveseat, and unbuttoned her overcoat. Underneath, she was butt-naked, smelling like Victoria’s Secret apple lotion. She dropped the coat and said, “You remember this ass, right? Do you remember how accommodating it can be?”
A shit-eating smile bloomed, organically, across his face. He’d given up the act, walked over, stood behind her and firmly pressed himself up against her naked ass, wrapping his arms around her, clutching her titties. Then he turned her around, lifted her up on his shoulders, in reverse, and started licking her clit. Through the living room, slowly up the stairs, his face buried down between her thighs, he made the short trek across the hallway and into his bedroom.
He dropped her on the bed, and she went right into his favorite position; doggy style, and he continued on, minding his business, only now he was eating her from behind. He rolled over on his back and told her to sit on his face.
With his lips on her ‘lips’, he drug his tongue from behind her peach, forward, to her pubic bone a few times, cleaning up her ‘chevy’, getting the juices going a little more before he cranks her. She was dripping down his face, down behind his neck in multiple streams. He stood up and grabbed her by the hair, and said, “Open those pretty lips and roll your tongue around my dick.”
Two hours earlier, Lynne got much the same treatment. This was the first time Alexis had ever given him head, but she embraced every inch. Under her tongue, against her cheeks, she took a violent face fucking and never asked for a break. He came three times and she swallowed three times.
There was nothing she wouldn’t do to get back into his graces.
“Is this what you drove sixty-five miles for? Have you been thinking about your daddy?”
Unfortunately, with dick hoisted down her throat, she could barely make out any coherent responses without sounding like she was gurgling horse meat. Rolling her tongue around his shaft, she pulled back and twirled over it, locking him down her throat. Then she started sucking his balls with his dick lying up across her face, where she was holding it with one hand, pumping him off out of novelty. She put his dick back into her mouth, grabbed his ass with both hands, and fingernails, and dug into his skin. She knew exactly what she was doing.
She’d been working up an alibi the entire way home. Sitting in the driveway adjusting her clothes, she put her wedding ring back on and sprayed a light dusting of perfume to mask the scent of bar sex and infidelity. Could it have been a coincidence that the song she was listening to on Sirius Satellite radio was “Strange Magic” by Electric Light Orchestra?
She straightened her hair some, added a fresh layer of lipstick, flicked away any bit of lint and opened a piece of gum. The garage door opened and she turned the headlights down, closed the sunroof and pulled in as quiet as she could, next to the black Nissan Titan. For all she knew, he could’ve been sitting in the truck waiting, watching, for her to get home. The windows were tinted darker than what was considered legal.
Putting the car in park, she sat there in the dark a moment longer, trying to calm her nerves, listening to the clicks and pops of the engine cooling down. She got out and looked at the time on her iPhone and remembered that she sent Dawn a text message to go on without her. She cleared the messages and slowly opened the house door, stepped in, and closed it behind her.
She was almost to the hallway on the other side of the kitchen, seemingly un-noticed, when in total darkness she spotted the glowing tip of a burning cigarette growing brighter in the living room. Her husband was there, dragging that bad boy back to the filter and exhaling the smoke in long breaths.
“So, how was your evening, honey?”
“It couldn’t have been any better. How was your evening, honey?” she responded.
“Oh? How so?” he fires back. “Where’d you go after work? Some nine – goddamn- hours ago.”
“Well honey,” she said, “Last time I checked…”
“Honey, my ass!” he interrupted. “I want to know where the fuck you’ve been! I’ve been calling and texting all evening. You been sugar-shacking with them…”
“Listen,” she fired back, “I’m going upstairs to get out of these smoky clothes, take a shower, and go to bed. Find a way to be decent, okay? We’ll speak tomorrow. It’s late.”
“Yeah no shit it’s late. How’d you arrive at that? Now again,”- in an elevated voice – “Where the fuck have you been, goddamnit? I want to know.”
She ignored him and went on upstairs. “Goodnight, honey,” she said, as she reached the top of the staircase.
“When I finish this cigarette, you better have something to say!”
He leaned back, fuming still, sitting in the dark taking long pulls on a fresh Marlboro 100, and talking to himself.
“Woman must think I fell off a goddamn pumpkin truck. Yeah, I’ll be up there real soon and if I find any curly ass nigger hairs, in my shower, there’s going to be smoke in the city.”
Still Not Convinced
A short while later he heard the shower shut off. He put his half smoked cigarette out on the cushion of the new couch, fanning the smoke he exhaled with his hand and headed upstairs. As he neared their bedroom door, he said, “So, tell me, lover girl, where you been all night? I called your work number and the damn thing went right to after-hours voicemail. So, where’ve you been? This shit isn’t going away until you start talking, woman. You hear me in there? You aren’t deaf are ya?”
She could hear him talking, alright – even with the bathroom door shut. She opened the door, wrapping her hair in a towel, and was about to explain what happened, but he fired off again, “For Christ’s sake, you didn’t even respond to the text messages I sent. What the fuck is going on?”
“I was on the interstate and my phone fell between the seat and the console. I just got my nails done yesterday, and I didn’t want to reach down and risk chipping the polish or breaking a nail. My nail appointments are sixty-five dollars every visit. So the phone just wasn’t that important to me. I figured I’d just deal with it later, and guess what? I’m dealing with it now, aren’t I? This is fucking ridiculous!”
He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and said, “That is the biggest pickup truck of bullshit to ever reach my ears. If that, by chance, is the truth, then how the fuck did you get your phone back from, quote-unquote, between the seat and the console, hmm? Explain me that,” he said. “Because I could see the damn thing in your hand when you walked in. What, did you just get off of it?”
“I stopped for gas and asked the clerk at the station if he could help me, and guess what again, he did! Are you done now?” she hammered back.
“Not even close,” he yelled. “Where’s the gas receipt?”
“I paid cash with the money the girls gave me at the bar, and I put our food and drinks from happy hour on my Wells Fargo card. Are we done here now, Guantanamo?”
He looked down and around the room, and apologized to her. He had nothing else. She gathered her clothes up off the floor, and balled them up tightly, and pushed through him.
“Get out of my way, you asshole! How could you even think I’d be doing anything else? How dare you! And what exactly, do you think I was doing? You know what they say, right? If you’re accusing someone of something it must mean you’re the one doing it.”
“I’m sorry sweetheart,” he said.
“Yeah, you got that right, you are sorry. You fat fucker! When are you going to lose some weight?”
Unfortunately, he was still not convinced, but for the time being he decided to sleep on it. He walked into the bathroom, rubbing his forehead, and slammed the door shut.
Downstairs in the laundry room, she started a hot wash cycle for her soiled clothes. Closing the door and leaning against it, she sent a text message to Eastian.
“Hey sexy man, I had a great time with you this evening. You have the most amazing body, ever. Wish my husband had your body. Hopefully we can see each other again real soon. Have a goodnight, daddy.”
Eastian & Alexis: The Next Morning
She was already up cooking breakfast when he woke up and came downstairs. He walked up behind her with serious morning wood.
“Damn, I didn’t think you’d actually get up and make breakfast, considering how late it was when we fell asleep. Eggs, sausage, toast, rice with butter, milk and sugar, and orange juice? Did you find all this shit in my kitchen?”
“No, not all of it. While you were sleeping, I went to the grocery store for the sausage and orange juice. You already had the rice and eggs. Hey, did you know that’s what they fed the slaves during the Transatlantic Slave Trade? Do all of your people eat rice for breakfast?”
Totally off guard, he responded, “What the hell do you mean by, ‘all of my people’? What kind of shit is that? See, every time you say stupid shit like that I wonder why the hell I still let you come around. But you know what, I know you mean well and all, so like usual, I’ll excuse that inquisitive bullshit. You just have to think before you speak girl, goddamn. Standing over there looking extra sexy for me.”
“No, just a good woman who knows what you like. Have a seat, it’s all ready.”
“Sounds good to me. I’ll be over there in a second. Just want to open up a couple of these windows… let some of that good morning air in before it get too hot outside. You got any plans for the day?” he asked.
She smiled and said, “Just you and maybe some shopping. Do you have any?”
“Nope. Just laying my black ass across the couch, relaxing for the most part – after you leave,” he said with a wink. “No, I’m kidding, babe.”
Taking note of his nothing-to-do schedule, she summoned up enough courage to ask, “Well, can you spend the day with me? We can do whatever you like. Do you need anything? Want to go shopping?”
“Must be nice to not have to work or put in for vacations,” he said, reaching for the tub of butter.
Seductively biting into her breakfast sausage, she said, “Well, you wouldn’t have to work either, if you would just be my man. You know I’ll take care of you, and you know I have a very large, beautiful home, that I live in all alone. You know, you could do so many things with that kind of a place,” throwing her leg on the table suggesting something sexual. “All you have to do is say yes, I have more money than I can spend in two or three lifetimes. Why won’t you tap into this, you stubborn fuck?”
He knows the circus of juggling women isn’t forever, and is only about finding that one meal ticket to get out. He also knows that any other nigga in the game would see her for the goldmine she is, and take total advantage of her. But the cost of it all, for him, would be his autonomy. He wants his cake and to eat it, too. He also knows that time waits for no man when an opportunity shows itself. It’s in that very moment that a decision must be made, or lost forever.
A lot of cats have grown old and lonely, trying to climb the ladder in this culture of ‘stick and move’, just waiting for something better, and even more of these cats have been placed on the injured list, physically speaking, playing with a woman’s heart. Eastian is a real player and knows that half the game is built on poker faces. He wouldn’t have to work those crazy hours anymore, in fact, no hours. His life would change in an instant, but what he’d be giving up is a one of a kind jewel that can’t be substituted or bought out. It’s that love of being single, coming and going when a motherfucker so chooses that makes it tough for him to decide.
“Let’s finish eating and whatever, and get out of here for the day,” she said.
How could he say no to her? They ate, cleaned up, and worked out a morning quickie, and showered. She also brought a change of clothes with her, go figure; then off into the day they went.
Dawn Calls Lynne
Lynne’s cellphone rang, and it was Dawn, her thirty-three year old Brazilian friend who owns a hair salon out in Old Town Scottsdale, called Elixir. She’s five foot eight with a very healthy body, and a few extra pounds in the right areas, specifically her ass and thighs – with a small waist to match. She’s got short hair and light brown eyes – a total dick tease.
She’ll wind you up and get you going just for the fuck of it; it’s all a sport to her, and don’t make the mistake of thinking you’ll get to land your ‘jet’ on her ‘Brazilian airstrip’ just because you may have taken her out to eat once or twice, she will talk about you in every way possible.
She’s still bitter about her cheating ex-husband, and although she’s a sweetheart, she can be angered and will lend an earful. She’s got a mouth like a sailor. She’s single with no children, and lives alone. Very liberal when it comes to discussions about her sexuality, but she’s conservative like motherfucker when it comes to giving that ass up.
“Hello?” Lynne answered.
“Hey girl, how’s it going?” Dawn said.
“Just another day at the office. What’s going on with you?” Lynne replied.
“Just calling to find out who that good-looking man you were talking to last night was?”
“Girl, you do not want to know,” she said with a sigh.
“Well who was he?”
“You have to keep this between us, in fact, promise me,” Lynne said.
“Okay, now spill the cherries.”
“Oh please, I spilled a few cherries, alright. Anyway, well first of all, I’ve never met him in my life. He came up behind me on the dance floor…and that…was the beginning of the night, if you know what I’m saying. Hey do you know about the little area on the other side of coat check?” Lynne asked.
“Hell yeah I know that area, well, I use to anyhow. Oh my god, did you fuck him in there?” Dawn asked.
“Truth is, the moment I saw him something happened, and when we sat down and started talking I didn’t want to leave, but at the same time, I didn’t know he’d be in my panties by the end of the night either. Oh, I get so damn wet thinking about him. He brought the whore out of me. I hadn’t seen that bitch since before Richard. Dawn, I honestly thought we were just going to walk out with each other, but when he pulled me through that coatroom, my god, I just wanted him to take me so hard, and he did. He needs to drink more pineapple juice though,” she said.
On the other end of the call, Dawn started laughing and screaming like a crazed high-school girl on the cheerleading team.
“You whore, I am telling your husband. What did his dick feel like? Was it big? What did it taste like? Was there a lot of cum? Did you swallow him?”
“I can’t even tell you what it felt like. It was like being fucked by a wild horse. I mean, he really took my cookies. I can’t stop thinking about how he filled me up. When I say there wasn’t any more room in me, I really mean it. There literally wasn’t any more room up there. When my husband and I have had sex, even though it’s been a while, I could feel him inside, but there was still a lot of room down there, you know?
Not with Eastian though, oh no, there wasn’t enough room to shine light. He just drove me so hard. I felt safe with him, completely. I feel like I want to play with myself right now. Um, can I call you back?” she said with a laugh.
There was a short pause between them as they both marinated in the words she spoke.
“Dawn, are all black men that big?”
“Bitch I don’t know. Do you really think I can answer that? Geez. Seriously, is my last name Kardashian?”
Lynne laughed at the thought of her own question.
“So yeah, um, when I got home, my hubby was sitting in the dark, smoking a cigarette on the brand new white leather couches we just bought, and I was too chicken shit to say anything about it, so I didn’t. He was pissed, and the tension was so thick, you could wear it. I won’t lie, I was really nervous, like I was with last year’s abortion. I never talked to Marvin Caymun after that.”
“Speaking of which,” Dawn said, “Have you still not told Rich about that?”
“Fuck no, I haven’t,” she said, “And never will. Are you kidding me? At that point we’d been trying to have a baby for two years. But then it just seemed like we stopped having sex all together. But then I go to the Monte Carlo in Vegas, with Marvin; our first date mind you, and-BAAM-I come up pregnant that same month. I think Rich just needs to lose some weight. I mean, I bet the reason why we haven’t gotten pregnant yet is because his sperm are fat asses just like him, and don’t want to swim to my eggs. He eats too much A&W.”
“Oh my god!” Dawn shouted. “You are so wrong for saying that. Poor guy must really enjoy living with you,” she said sarcastically.
“Well anyway,” Lynne said, “Back to that sexy stranger I was drooling about earlier, if I get the chance to see him again, I’m giving him some more pussy. I memorized his number. What my husband doesn’t know won’t hurt him, will it?”
“Well did he say anything to you?” Dawn asked.
“Hell yeah he did. That fucker was crawling out of his skin with words. I get chills just thinking about it. Anyhow, that was my night,” Lynne said. “How’s business going at the salon? Whose hair are you burning out, today?”
“Speaking of which,” Dawn said, while recounting an appointment she had with a customer who wanted highlights in her hair, “Let me tell you some shit. This lady came in about two weeks ago, and you would have died for NOT laughing, I can’t believe I forgot to tell you this.”
“Anyway, she walks in with – and I kid you not – six hairs on her head, asking for highlights and a hold treatment. Girl, I’m standing there thinking – ‘hold what?’ This old ass skin bag wasn’t walking out of my salon with nothing. That would’ve been bad advertising for me. She didn’t have anything to do anything with. Old bitch.”
“Dawn, you are a mess.”
“Yes, I am,” she responded.
“You’re such a whore, I just thought I’d call and chat with you for a bit. I need to sweep the hair off the floor. Looks like a Yeti made a visit.”
“Well thank you for the call, honey. I needed to laugh a bit after the home front craziness. I’ll call you later on this evening. Oh wait! I almost forgot to ask you, “What’s going on with you and your ex?” Lynne asked.
“Oh please, Jomo can kiss my ass. We’ll need martinis and Vicodin for that conversation,” Dawn said. “Just call me tonight. I need to clean this place up before the next appointment.”
“Okay will do.”
Lynne paged Lori, her secretary, to order Subway sandwiches for lunch. She walked to her window to watch the traffic on the interstate, thinking about her night with Eastian. She reached for the phone and stopped short of picking it up when she noticed the prints for the upcoming lingerie show laying on her desk.
Looking For A Clue
Rich took a PTO day from work, but not for rest and relaxation, he was in search of something from when Lynne came home late. He hadn’t slept worth a damn, but as soon as she walked out the door – because she sure as hell didn’t say goodbye to him – he walked to the window, peeked through the blinds, and watched her drive off.
For him, it was the perfect opportunity to ransack the house in areas she’d been in, hoping to discover something, anything, to satisfy his growing speculation. Standing there in the living room looking around, he thought, “Where do I look first?”
He didn’t hesitate a second longer – he went into office room and logged into their Verizon cellular account to see if there were any incoming or outgoing call activity on her phone from that night, other than his own. Unfortunately, there wasn’t anything there, and it immediately started to piss him off, he was desperate to find something; anything.
Rubbing his head – looking left, looking right – scratching his beard, in deep thought, he sunk into his office chair growing angrier. He started yelling at her as though she were standing there next to him.
“Where in the fuck did you go, woman? Where were you!? What were you doing out so late? You’re fucking around on me, aren’t you?”
He fired up a third cigarette in the first ten minutes of his hunt, pulled on it extra hard and let the smoke roll around in his lungs for a minute; and finally, he let it out like smoke from a burning oil well. He spun around in the chair a couple times, not noticing his cigarette ashes falling to the floor, and a thought came to him: “The shower. Maybe there’s a clue in the shower. She came home, washed up pretty damn quick, and washed her clothes. She never does that. Goddamn you woman. I’m going to kill you and that wife stealing motherfucker! Just watch!”
He made his way to the master bathroom, opened the door, looked around the cold tile floor, and stepped in. He got down on his hands and knees and started running his hand up against the baseboards under the cabinets, around the toilet, along the length of the bathtub, and the half shower thinking maybe, just maybe, he’d find another man’s ball hairs where she’d taken her clothes off. But to no avail, nothing discovered but a new level of angry.
In the Shower
He looked in the shower, checked for hairs on the bar soap, even studied the loofa sponge for hairs in the netting. He ran his middle finger in and around the drain, desperately searching for the tiniest bit of evidence, anything. But once again, there was nothing there – nothing anywhere. He saw himself in the mirror and started crying out of frustration.
“For Pete’s sake Lynne, where were you? Where were you? Where in the fuck were you?”
Yet again, it’s just him. Pulling himself together, he said; “Get a hold of yourself, man. Your father is probably turning in his grave by the way you’re acting.”
He looked up at the sun dome, taking in the natural light, inhaled deeply through his nose, and thought, “A mixed drink sounds fitting about now. Maybe I’ll go talk to Earl this evening. I’m losing it.”
He went back downstairs, grabbed a handful of mixed nuts and flopped down on the couch. A half hour had gone by when another fruitful idea came to him. With his now dirty hands, he reached over to the end table for another dose of Kirkland mixed nuts and went back to the office room and logged into her Wells Fargo bank account to look through her recent transactions.
“Everything looks normal,” he thought, “But I’d have to be a monkey’s uncle if I don’t get to the bottom of this shit.”
Coming to an item charge from none other than 80’s Lounge bar & grille; it shows she had a twenty-eight dollar transaction, yet, still nothing unusual.
“Oh wow, you’re pretty good, babe. Out all damn night and all you spent was” – yelling at the computer screen – “twenty-eight fucking dollars!? You were gone all evening, and you get home at two in the morning, but you only spent twenty-eight fucking dollars!?” He clearly wants his gross speculation satisfied, and nothing else will do.
He logged out, picked the wireless keyboard up and started smacking the front edge of the desk with it. Pieces flew around the room. He cussed the paint off the walls, and then the phone rang. It rang a couple more times, but by the time he actually realized it, whoever called had already hung up, leaving no message, thus piquing his suspicion about who it might’ve been.
So he called her office line – starting there – and immediately got her voicemail. Then he called her cellphone, and got her voicemail there, also. In his mind, it’s all suspicious, but he reasoned that she was likely to be in meetings or out to lunch.
There he was, at home on a regular work day, looking for something to be pissed off about. He’d finally given up his search for the day, for something more productive. He grabbed his truck keys and drove down the road a ways to BevMo, swung through the drive-thru at the A&W fast food shop, directly across the street, and returned home. He spent the afternoon watching rightwing news station, FOX NEWS, and because he’d wound himself up so much, he’d fallen asleep with a half-eaten chili dog slipping from his hand.
It was 1:15 in the afternoon. It was a full house there at the salon. The ladies were having a good old time, talking about everybody and everything. Some were there by appointment, and others were there just to hang out over dirty martinis and to let the gossip get under their skin. Dawn had just gotten off the phone with Lynne. She has a blonde friend named Shelley, from Pocatello, Idaho, who comes in everyday like clockwork, usually after her Pilates workout, just to talk about some law dude she’s supposedly dating and the bullshit going on between the two of them; and speak of the devil, none other than Shelley had just shown up.
The salon door swung open very wide, and in she walked.
“Ugh! I can’t stand this motherfucker. Oh hey bitches,” she said.
Immediately, she looked at Dawn and went right into character.
“Girl, let me tell you about this Mr. Laurence character. I’m getting pretty frustrated with his bullshit and his bullshit schedule. He has the nerve to tell me, there are approved days that I can see him, and then there are blackout days that I’m not allowed to see him, but then he said he might make an exception from time to time, but that I need to earn those days. Like he’s a goddamn emperor, or some shit. This asshole sandwich only makes time for me late nights during the week, because he’s inundated with court cases – so he says – and because Fridays and Saturdays are his nights with the fellas. Well fuck you motherfucker, my name is not “anytime you feel like it!”
“So, what’s wrong with that?” Dawn said.
She looked back at Dawn, “Are you serious? That’s not going to cut it for me. If he wants to hangout and be around his “boys”, like a bunch of faggot ass flies on shit, instead of spending time with me and my tight ass, then maybe he should have one of them suck his dick from now on! I’m not doing it anymore, I’m over it. That fucking motherfucker. Fuck him.”
“Whoa! Whoa! Whoa girl, damn. I’m running a business around here. You can’t be cutting up like that in front of my clientele, damn. Not only that, but you just walked in and busted up a good conversation, to air out your issues. Wait your turn beyyyyotch,” Dawn said.
“Why should I prioritize for him, when he chooses to not prioritize for me? This asshole tells me one thing one day, getting me all excited with promises and shit – oh, by the way – which have yet to fucking transpire any goddamn way, and then says something completely different or does something different to contradict himself, and then he swears he doesn’t remember saying that shit. Like oh wait, I’ll play dumb for you so you don’t look like a fucking idiot. I swear to god, I’m going to be on the news for throwing hot coffee on his ass, if he doesn’t get right with my sweet ass.”
Another lady in the salon said, “Will you let me know if it works? I’m ready to try some other shit too, girlfriend!”
“I really like Laurence, but he’s just not doing what I want, or even listening to what it is I need from him. I need a way to get his attention,” she said, slurping macchiato through her straw.
“Shelley, listen to me,” Dawn said, as she was flat-ironing a customer’s hair. “If you stay on a man’s ass like that, trying to make him something he’s not, you’re only making it worse for yourself, because eventually you’ll lose him completely – he’ll resent your ass for it. You can’t force no man against his nature, even if you‘re right and he’s wrong. He’ll probably just find some other ass to drain his balls in. Your level of persistence only works in the business world.”
“Think about this for a second,” Dawn continued, “Imagine a guy who’s as persistent as you. You’d think he was crazy and probably find it necessary to charge restraining orders – against his ass – on your American Express card. So you have to let those rabid dogs be rabid dogs, because whatever may or may not happen, it’s still a choice that they have to make for themselves.”
“Whether you think it’s shitty or not, is a matter of opinion and personal perspective, but the only responsibility you have to yourself is to know when to let him go, girl. Excuse me,” she said to another customer, “Can you hand me that hairclip on the floor?”
Jocelyn, an older black lady who was reading an article in the paper, gracefully folded it up, laid it down, looked up, and said, “Yes yes and no yes, we all have needs, all of us, and it don’t matter if we’s is married, engaged, single, divorced, pretty or ugly and tired. Even my fifty-fo’ year old ripe ass. I got some needs, too. I still likes a young man’s tongue” – slapping her hands together – “slidin’ up my ole’ ass after Sun’ay service, I ain’t lying, that shit gon’ always feels good. We’s womens is human beings first, then we’s is females, and we’s is ruled by our emotions.”
“I know from my own experiences that when you let that muddafucka know there ain’t gon’ be no mo’ ass grabbing and dick suckin’s – and believe me, when I takes my teef out like this” – taking her dentures out – “dat muddafucka cain’t wait for me to put these gums on his hang-down. He be beggin’ for these black ass gums. I ain’t lying. But when his narrow ass falls asleep, I takes his draws and buries’em in my garden. I grows me tomatoes and them cabbages, ya’ll see, and he cain’t leave for a couple days. That’s that voo-doo magic, just so ya’ll know. And he be won’ering why he don’t be wantin’ to leave, too. Cos’ I put a spell on that black muddafucka.”
“But anyway ladies, what I was saying was, when you let him know there ain’t gon’ be no touching or, breakfas’s, lurnches, dinners, or any of that other shit he think he deserve, he might change a few of his ways. If he don’t compromise then honey, say fuck’em, if he don’t eat yo’ snatch, then honey, say fuck’em. It’s all up to you to just say – that’s right – fuck’em. Ya’ll see, I’m a old bitch, but my feelings still get hurt from time to time, too.”
“That raggedy ass deacon at my church, I’m gon’ light his on fire, he take one mo’ gatdamn tomato from my garden and ain’t gemme what I need. I needs that quality time just like these men’s need that pussy. So,” she said, waving her arms in the air, “let them mens be all the muddafucka they can be, but make sho’ you don’t find yo’self chasing they dizzy asses, either.”
Dawn hadn’t said much the entire time Jocelyn was talking, but gave a pretentious smile. She was in her own head about some things in her recent past. She’s still bitter about her cheating ex-husband. The doorbell chimes and in walks Alexis, who just so happened to be passing by, and stopped in to buy a bottle of Bio Silk. Meanwhile, Eastian was waiting in the car, and little did he know that the owner of the salon was Lynne’s best friend, and she’d just as likely recognize him if he had come inside, too. But since she said she’d only be a few minutes, he opted to wait in the car.
He dialed Jerry to see what the fellas had planned for that evening. They talked very quickly and ended the call just as Alexis was walking back.
Back in the salon, Jocelyn asked Shelley, “Have you ever cheated in a relationship or been cheated on?”
Dawn jumped right in and took the lead on answering.
“Oh god, this is right up my alley! Hell yeah, I’ve been cheated on, in fact the motherfucker cheated on me with the bitch that just left here. Her name is Alexis. That bitch fucked my man! The problem is she owns half of this salon. But that’s really not the point, right?”
“Wait, the young, pretty thing that just left here a second ago?” Jocelyn asked.
“Yeah that thing,” Dawn said, picking up a pair of scissors to trim her client’s hair.
“Well, why in the hell are you doing business with her then? Shit, I would have told that” – catching herself before she said anything more - “Hmm, let me stop,” Jocelyn said, “before I be needing forgiveness.”
Business Is Never Personal
“Well it’s a little more complicated than that, and one thing I know is, business is never personal, no matter how personal things are. I have a business to run and I can’t be picking and choosing whose damn dollar I’ll take, but I would love to burn that bitch’s hair out,” Dawn said.
Everyone started laughing.
“But what makes it worse,” she continued, “Is that she gave me the money to start the salon. We used to be very good friends, until” – in a raised voice – “she screwed my man, in my bed, in my goddamn house and forgot her panties – which is a story all in itself. And that’s how I knew it was her, and why I’m so bitter these days. I cannot stand that bitch.”
“You’ve got serious composure,” Jocelyn said. “But why’s is you mad at her? Yeah, I know she knew you’s two were married, but you should be even angrier at that bastard ex-husband. Hold on, I take that back, fuck’em both, damn the both of them to hell and gone! Fuck’em both!”
Remembering that the question was intended for Shelley, Dawn looked at her and said, “Girl, I’m sorry for jumping my bitter ass on Jocelyn’s question. I just couldn’t help myself.”
Looking down at a text message, Shelley responded, “Hooker, you always do that shit to me. It’s alright though, I’m used to it, that’s who you are beeyotch. Oh, and to answer your question, Jocelyn, yeah both. I’ve cheated and have been cheated on, but oh well. Well ladies, it’s been fun and crazy hanging out today, but I just ran out of Starbucks, and I need to go re-up my caramel macchiato caffeine drip or this bitch might die of starvation. I’ll call you later Dawn, and Jocelyn, we need to hangout sometime. I’ll see you all later. Bye-bye bitches.”
Native New Yorker
Slumped down across his couches watching Netflix movies, with a hand down his sweatpants rolling his nuts around like a lost squirrel, Jerry called Laurence and asked him to meet him at the usual spot, Native New Yorker, for pizza and wings, and Laurence said, “Nigga make sure you wash them nasty ass fingers, I know you playing with them bird nuts, watching Oprah in the daytime, mu’afucka.”
“Get out my business, Dr. Phil,” Jerry responded. “Meet me there in thirty minutes. Bring your wallet, I’m hungry.”
Jerry is thirty-six years old, also a single black man, well, now divorced. He’s about six foot four inches tall, two hundred fifteen pounds. He’s got four kids; two boys, two girls. He lives in Glendale Heights or wherever he lays his hat. He hauls sheet rock for multi-million dollar home builders in the Cave Creek-area. He’s part of the group of players called Lonely Black Men. Back in the 90’s they all had jheri curls, taking pictures at Sears with teddy bears, stuffed giraffes and two-dollar bills; something they called Player’s Behavior
You could always tell when they were together somewhere, because the floors were usually greasy when they left. Anyone who walked where they’d been standing were sure to slip and fall. You also knew they’d been in the vicinity; you could smell jheri curl activator in the air; better known as ‘soul glo’ or ‘jheri juice’. Each one of them carried their own bottle of it, especially in a Phoenix summer. Jheri curls and perms would dry out.
He grew up in Phoenix and went to East High. He’s not much for relationships nowadays, sharing the same sentiments about black women as Eastian does. His divorce from his ex-wife left him in smiles because he didn’t have anything worth taking, but she did get all four of their children, which left him with a monthly court order payment of one hundred and sixty-two dollars to cover the child support on all four. So anyone in their right mind, and knowing him, would automatically speculate on whether or not he was pumping dick into that goddamn judge lady.
And it made sense why he left the courthouse smiling that day, while his ex-wife left with a charge of disorderly conduct in the judge’s courtroom; she was rightfully pissed. Who in the hell gets away with a child support payment that low, to cover four children. With the number of women he had, he would simply take up a monthly collection from them all to pay the support order, and as far as he was concerned, why should his ex-wife give a fuck how he gets the child support payment for her each month.
Furthermore, why would he even tell her how he’s getting it to begin with; unless he just liked getting under her skin, gloating about his other bitches and what they do for him? But aside from all that, the man has stated, all over town, that he makes his payments, but she still won’t let him see his kids more than a few days each month. But it doesn’t really seem to affect him any, he just liked to put her behavior out on the town so everyone knew how she behaved with his kids.
Laurence is an attorney, who graduated Wake Forest with a Bachelor’s Degree in Criminal Law and worked as a public defender for a while. After having been a public defender, for the first two years, he relocated to Phoenix in the summer of 2000, and started his own private practice. He soon realized what a mistake that move was. No one moves to Phoenix between May and September. It’s too damn hot.
He’s almost thirty-one years old, coming in at a cool five foot eleven, and about one hundred ninety pounds. He has a son by a woman he’s no longer with, but that’s also another story. He has a love of imported wine and cigars.
Waiting to put their food orders in, drinking Bud light Platinum, Jerry said, “Yeah man, Eastian called me. He wanted to know what the plan was for tonight. I told him, I’d hit him up later on.”
“Was he with ole girl again?” Laurence asked.
“C’mon man, you know that answer. When is he ever not with that chic, Jerry stated.”
“I don’t understand,” Laurence said. “Why’s he acting like he’s not interested in the girl, but then when we talk to him, his black ass is always right there with her. You know what I’m saying? He told me she was loaded down with money, plus she lives alone – no man, no kids. What the hell is he thinking? He needs to be laying cable in that bitch every night. Shit, with that kind of money, my dick wouldn’t be free, at all, anymore!”
“Yeah, that’s what he says,” Jerry said, looking through the menu.
“So if this is the case, and he’s obviously spending time with her, he needs to go on ahead and politic the situation and see what kind gains he can make with her,” Laurence said. “This is what I know; if I were in his shoes, you better believe I’d be doing whatever’s necessary to get where I’m going, and all of that while my dick is tied down in her ass. Shit, you think I’m lying, huh? You niggas wouldn’t see me for about two months.”
The waitress came around, and they placed their orders.
“He’s got to be some kind of fool, acting like he can afford to kick her to the curb,” Jerry said.
“He’s playing ‘choosey louie’, toying around with a chic with that kind of coin. Not to mention, she’s only twenty-six. You know damn well, she wants to be molded and trained into what he needs her to be. These bitches look hard and long to find someone to make happy, and she’s perfect.”
“Yeah, but you have to remember something though,” Laurence said, “Even though he might be getting what he wants, he’s giving up his freedom for a relationship, and you know money ain’t shit to her. She’s got too much of it. In this situation, she’s still taking home the better deal, because she’s getting what she wants; well, he is too, but the intrinsic value is in her corner. And what’s he getting? I’ll tell you; everything but his autonomy, and you know that ain’t his style. So I get his dilemma, but I hear you, too.”
The waitress returned with their food. “Here’s your food, gentlemen? Can I get you boys anything else?”
“All is good baby, thank you,” Jerry said, looking at her name tag. Her name is Shaun. She’s twenty-eight, with a small frame, long auburn red hair and grey eyes. She also runs a book store, sort of; and is one of Dawn’s friend’s. She’s very jealous of Dawn’s lifestyle, even though they both own businesses. They get along mostly, but often have arguments that push them away from each other time to time. She would like to have children but can’t. She doesn’t smoke, but drinks socially.
“Are you single?” Jerry asked.
With a smile, she said, “Yeah, I’m single, but I have a strong feeling it really wouldn’t matter if I wasn’t. I can hear your conversation. So would it really matter that much if I was married?”
“Hey well, you know, it takes two to tango, right?” he replied.
“Now, are you single by choice or some other reason?” he asked again.
“That is certainly by choice, sir,” she replied.
Laurence was just a spectator in this exchange – he prefers his food hot. Being quick on his toes, Jerry said, “Well, that must be good news for me then, right?”
“If you want it to be,” she said, with her arms crossed.
He asked for her number and gave her his, and she said, “Just one thing though, I own a bookstore on 24th street, so there’s not a lot of time for bullshit. So call me. Enjoy your food guys.”
She laid the check down, winked and walked away.
“Yeah, I love a hard worker,” Jerry said, with a smile.
“And that’s good to know, sir,” she said from a short distance.
“Good because I’m going to put that ass right to it, girl.”
Laurence laughed with a mouth full of wings, because at that point she was too far away to hear Jerry’s comment, but she did look back at him with a feisty smile.
“Anyway Jerry, man… I’ve been dragging this chic named Shelley across my bed, like two or three times a week, in the late evening. She’s a pretty mu’afucka, too – white girl – works out. Pilates I think.”
In an animated voice and distorted face, slapping his hand down on the table, he said, “And she can suck a mean dick too, bro. I swear to God that shit is outstanding. I damn near hit her over the head with a telephone. She was licking and slurping that motherfucker. She had to pull the sheets out my ass. When I nutted,that shit felt like it went on forever and ever and ever and…”
“Damn nigga, I get it,” Jerry said.
“Man, I ain’t lying. This motherfucker breaks me off for real,” Laurence said.
“Yeah man,” Jerry interrupted, “If you ain’t careful you’ll be in love with your tail between your legs. She’ll have your balls in a glass jar, in her purse, in a lockbox, downtown some – goddamn – where. Women are the only creatures in this world that can start – and end – a nuclear war. They do it with that sweet thing between their legs. I remember an old buddy of mine. Nigga lost his job and his house over some pussy. So be careful, and whatever you do, don’t eat her, until you need her. I keep telling you niggas, we live in a service culture. You gotta be paid thoroughly for your services, otherwise, why be in this business of playin’? You use whatcha got to get whatcha want. How many times I gotta say this, shit? I tell you the truth. The more I talk to ya’ll, the dumber I get.”
“One thing I will always remember though,” Jerry continued, “He told me that no matter how fine and beautiful a woman might be; somebody, somewhere, is sick of her shit. So don’t get in too heavy with that chic, she ain’t the only mothafucka that smell good, suck a dick and make you happy. There’s a million other pretty bitches out there that’ll lick ya nuts, shove their tongues up ya ass, and letcha choke’em when you poke’em. So whatcha black ass gonna feel like then? I tell you this much, you better feel like slapping the shit out that nasty mothafucka. But there’s an exception for them salad tossers, though; the exception is, if they’re paying you, and paying you well, otherwise you’re just a nigga on his back with his legs in the air like a beeeeyaatch. And that’s the damned truth; if you want to feel some kind of way about it.”
“Hell, who cares how fine she is, I do my freakin’ with the lights off,” Laurence said. “All pussy feels the same when it’s hot and WET!
“Damn, you missed the whole point of what he was saying to me, didn’t you?” Jerry said, wiping hot wing sauce off of his fingers.
“Yeah, anyway,” Laurence said, “Have you heard from Ronnie’s black ass today?”
“Not yet, but that chic Tia Faleine, called me a couple days ago, crying about how he won’t answer her calls or call her back,” Jerry said, reaching for the napkins.
“Yeah, because she gave his ass forty thousand dollars for some bullshit business idea he had, and he never did anything but be Ronnie with it. I know for a fact he’s not paying that back. She fucked up real good giving his ass anything. If he does pay her back, it’ll all be in dick. There ain’t gon’ be no money in the repayment,” Laurence said.
Wiping his mouth with a thumb and index finger, Jerry said, “Well, that’s her problem now. She said the last time she saw him, was the night he came by her house. I guess she was under the impression they were going out to dinner, but when he got there, he had some flowers and an already opened bottle of wine. She said he told her he just wanted to stay in, relax and have some drinks. Long story short; Ronnie broke his dick off in her, and she gave him some goddamn money, drunker than shit. The entire time I’m listening to the shit, all I’m thinking is, ‘Ronnie done struck again!’ So, I told her I’d let him know to call.”
Shaking his head, Laurence said, “Ronnie don’t care about these women, nigga got seven kids in three states and two possibles in Minneapolis. I have to admit, he’s got a way with women, nobody I know – not even myself – can sling dick like he do and get that kind of money from these chics. He’s going to end up on Ripped-Off.com one day, just watch. Man, finish that food and let’s get on out of here. Stop baby-sitting them wings. Hurry up.”
Ronnie, another face of the LBM, grew up in South Phoenix. Built like a cornbread fed football player, he just turned thirty-five and has never really worked in his life, mainly running through the night stealing copper, pallets, cardboard bales, conning women out of money and anything else he can turn into a dollar bill. He lives solely for the weekend yet, always talking about the great moves he’s about to make, but never quite reaching any of them.
He believes his life took a left turn when he saw the Arizona State University SAT test; it really discouraged him, to the point where he just dropped his pencil on the table, got up and walked out of the testing facility. He had great dreams of playing in the NFL; and he can easily pass for an NFL player. The ladies eat that up all day. He’ll lie to you in a minute about anything and everything. You can’t trust him with anything you hold dearly or anything you don’t, it’s just a matter of self- preservation because he’s just that kind of motherfucker. You can’t rely on him for a glass of cold water, he’ll drink it before it ever reaches you, and swear on his life that it dried up inside the goddamn cup.
But yet and still, he’s very charming and can light a room up anywhere he goes, absolutely anywhere, and somehow you know he’s got a good heart.
You can bet that any money he gets his hands on, you’ll find him spending it in the high end bars and lounges of North Scottsdale playing the part of a very well-off individual, but unfortunately the truth betrays him; this motherfucker is broker than a shot up glass. Still, he uses his god given charm and presentation to add to his own mystery.
Carrying on in a conversation on his cellphone, he talks fast and spends much of it talking loud, laughing, and well…being Ronnie.
“Aye, nigga I’m rich. Man fuck that shit, I got billions, nigga! You should see me right now. I’m sitting on a gold toilet in Dubai, on the top floor of the Ronnie Hotel, and I be goddamned, I just wiped my ass with five hundred dollars, so fuck you. You a broke nigga, but I like you, so don’t ever mess that up,” laughing here and there between the ever present slick-whatcha-know-daddy-jive talk.
“Roland, Roland, shut the fuck up! Shut the fuck up, Roland! Roland! You tell that billy-goat looking mothafucka sitting next to you – in my goddamn work truck, with that extra row of shark teeth growing in his mouth, to shut the fuck up when grown folks is talking. Now listen, how many pallets did you high-brow, sons-of-bitches obtain last night for The Ronnie’s Pallet-stealing business?”
“Good, good, now let me ask this, how much copper did you high-brow, sons-of-bitches obtain for the copper stealing division of…my…GODDAMN…tax exempt business? EVERYTHING IS EXEMPT, NIGGA! AND I DO MEAN EVERYTHING. Good, good, now remember this, you Alabama black river crickets. Go to Taco-bell and get a nigga a couple soft tacos, then stop at 7-11, get two fantasy scratch tickets – better yet, make it five, and a powerball.” He hung up and went into his closet to pick out clothes for the bar that evening.
Sexy White Bitch
His cellphone rang, and the display read: “Susan.” She’s his OBGYN cum drain who lives out in Gainey Ranch, an upscale Scottsdale community.
“Thank you for calling TOYS R US. I am the manager, Charlie Murphy. How may I fuck you? I mean, how may I help yooouuuuu?”
“Oh my God, honey. Are you serious?” she said, laughing.
He laughed a little and said, “Hi baby?”
“My, aren’t you in a good mood today, chocolate man.”
“Why yes I am. What’s on your mind, my sexy, thick, white beeyyatch?”
“Well I’m in the area. Do you care for some company, Ron?”
“Yes, but only if you care for some dick, baby.”
“Only if you fuck me like you need more money, baby,” she said.
“You goddamn right I do. So why ain’t you here yet? Bring your ass to me right now so I can pound that old ass alligator pussy,” and hangs up. He shot his phone, like a basketball, across the room to his twin bed, and it rang again. He dove across the bed and the display said “TF” – for Tia Faleine – she’s been calling about the forty thousand dollars she loaned him, and now he’s avoiding her at all costs.
“I don’t know why this bitch keeps calling me, goddamn.”
He let the call go to voicemail.
Susan arrived and he’d just finished sprinkling baby powder on the white sheets. He grabbed her, picked her up, body-slammed her over the pillows and a plume of baby powder billowed up.
“What the fuck is in your bed?” she said.
“Your naked ass,” he said. “This is what I call the powder fields of Ronnie.”
She came over wearing a skirt, and now her thighs were spread wide, with two guerilla-like fingers, deep inside, fingering her like a pro.
“You want this Great Dane dick, baby?”
She could hardly make out a response. He pulled his fingers out and put them in her mouth, and she sucked every knuckle. He slapped her clit with his dick a few times, put it in and started driving her into the wall; he doesn’t have a headboard. The springs in the twin bed were on fire the way he had it bouncing. He rolled her over and slapped oil on her ass.
“Uh honey,” she said. “What is that smell?”
“Oh, that’s bacon grease,” he said. “I ran out of baby oil, and all I had left was this. And let me tell you, this shit goes a long goddamn way. Can’t use too much of it, even on yo’ round ass. Now arch your back so I can fuck the rats out of you, I know they in there.”
“You’re so damn gross, Ron. I can’t even believe I’m letting you lube me with animal fat. Damn, do that again, that….oh shit, right there, you black tree frog; keep fucking me now. Oh that shit feels good.”
“Ribbit, ribbit,…… ribbit,” was all he said.
About a minute or two in, she was already squirting like a garden hose with a tear in it.
Extending his arms out and pushing her shoulders down into the bed, keeping her ass up high, he started pumping her faster.
“Oh God, no, no, no. You’re too deep Ronnie. OUCH! That’s my liver, motherfucker. Quit! What’re you trying to kill me? Jesus Christ, yield motherfucker, yieeeld. That shit hurts, Ronnie. You unemployed motherfucker! Owwww!” she screamed. Exaactly how much money do you need? This shit hurts!”
“You promise not to call me a tree frog, again? Do I look like a tree frog? Do I smell like a tree frog?”
“Yes, no and no” she screamed out.
“Now shut up, you little bitch and give me them guts.”
He was clearly on a mission to secure every dollar she brought for him. In his mind the only thing to do was continue pounding her doggy style until she learned her lesson about all that screaming; but it was that exact dicking that had her screaming to begin with. Plowing her with donkey rope, her situation was pretty much fucked from the giddy up.
“Put that ass back in the air, baby, don’t cheat me goddamnit,” he said. “Bring that ass back up here. Want me to put more grease on it?”
“Fuck me like you fucked my girlfriend, you bald-headed shitbird.”
“Yeah, keep talking all that shit, girl. You hear me?”
As she was reaching her next orgasm, approaching it fast, he asked her about that money to start his janitorial business, in addition to what she already brought him. Trademark Ronnie Holloway-style, he did the exact same thing to Tia Faleine, only difference between the two vixens is that Susan – on any given day of the week – always has close to eighty grand in cash, in her house; whereas Tia had to pull advances from two different credit cards. Poor Suzie couldn’t think straight with a dick beating on her organs and orgasms knocking her eyes into her head.
“How much do you need, baby, just keep fucking me. I hate you so much! Put it in my ass now,” she said.
“If I drop this motherfucker in that fat ass, my prices vary.
“Whatever Kunta Kinte, just give it to me, I’ll write a check. Now put it in my ass,” she said, moaning.
LBM: 80’s Lounge
“Make a hole baby,” Michael yelled.
There they were – the whole group – together like The Jacksons. Laurence, Jerry, James, Eastian, Rob, Ronnie, Jim and Michael, one after another; this was the LBM. Lonely Black Men. They’re womanizers and they make it known from the jump.
Heading to the bathroom, Ronnie and Jerry stop to mingle at a table with three women, and immediately put the squeeze on. Ronnie introduced himself in a way that would seem like he was already pre-occupied with something or someone else and wasn’t interested in them; again, trademark Ronnie-style.
After about ten minutes he broke away and headed to the restroom, and not five seconds later Michael slid in, chewing gum like a high school janitor, with his smell-good cologne on and introduced himself.
“How you ladies doing, I’m the big bro of the group, ya’ll can call me Father Michael if you like. Are my brothers giving you beautiful ladies any trouble? ‘Cos if they are, they know I’ll take my belt off and whoop that ass right here.”
He looked at one of the girls and asked, “So what’s your name, sweetheart?”
“Taylor,” she responded.
“Well I tell you now, Ms. Taylor, I’d much rather be chewing on you than this piece of gum in my mouth. It’s got artificial flavoring, but you look and smell natural. Tell me something else, honey; do you taste natural, too?”
“Oh wouldn’t you like to know, you smooth talker, you” she said. “Well why don’t you buy me and my girls some drinks and let’s see where this party goes, cat-daddy.”
“Yeah well, we’ll get to them drinks later, shit. Hold on, aye bartender, can I get three glasses of water over here? If you charge for the ice, we’ll just take the water. Baby if you don’t mind, can a fella slide on in around this table, and sit next to you?”
She smiled and said, “No, I don’t mind at all, come on. But damn, I was expecting mixed drinks not water.”
“Baby, drinking is bad for you if you ain’t spending your own goddamn money,” he said.
Michael is tight as a sentry safe about his money, and doesn’t give two shits about it.
Taylor is a plus sized white girl, which is just the way he likes them. He started whispering in her ear and must’ve said something good because she looked at him and said, “and I’ll chew your dick off, too!”
He was already thinking about how to get her to leave a little early so he could see what all that ‘chewing’ was about. Jerry was in his own conversation with the other two girls; mostly the one named Hanna. She kept asking him if he smelled anything strange.
The thing about Michael is; he doesn’t wear shirts to the bars, only vests. He doesn’t even wear dress socks with his Stacey Adams dress shoes. He’ll usually sprinkle his toes and the inside of his shoes with Gold Medal flour if he’s out of Johnson & Johnson, and he’ll go with it from there.
He doesn’t wear cologne, he prefers Vicks vapor rub, and he uses generous amounts, everywhere, especially behind his ears.
He claims that it helps keep the ladies minds open to new things. Hanna couldn’t help herself, something was bothering her still.
“Goddamn, which one of you are wearing cold medicine? It stinks.”
Michael looked up, over the top of his glasses, from his conversation with Taylor, looking very offended, and said, “Bitch! You smellin’ an experience. Now calm your ass down before I reach ‘cross this goddamn table and give you some purpose.”
LBM: 80’s Lounge pt. 2
That was about the time the other girl, Keri, caught him off guard and slapped the shit out of him, and told him to go wash that shit off!
The table exploded, and Jerry, trying to seal the deal with Hanna, watched as his progress slipped away behind Michael’s usual behavior.
“Goddamn Mike. Man, you done fucked me out of some pussy, shit! Nigga we can’t hang out no more. You fuckin’ up my percentages.”
He never even got Hanna’s phone number, so he ended up leaving Michael behind and moving on to another chic. Needless to say, Michael lost out on his own deal with Taylor. After he talked to her friend the way he did, she told him to go stick his dick in a paper shredder. He turned around and cussed all three of them out.
“Fuck all ya’ll, I didn’t want that pussy no how. Probably ain’t got no snap to it, any – goddamn – way. Raggedy mouth bitches. Give me them goddamn water cups back. You hoes don’t deserve nothing but a Nigerian ass-whooping, and I won’t even do it myself. Fuck all three of you silverbacks.”
He didn’t know that Keri was Taylor’s sister. He managed to get away from the table with only a glass of Midori Sour being thrown across his back.
Finding Laurence, James, and Eastian at the bar, Michael, walked up and joined the conversation there. The four of them were as loud as they could possibly be, cross-talking each other, flagging women down on the other side of the bar, spilling their drinks. Michael got himself into another issue, he interrupted a conversation between two other girls who were minding their own business.
“Hey ladies, don’t you scallywags think it’s about time ya’ll un-assed them chairs? Nigga need to rest his toes, ya know? C’mon, c’mon” – snapping his fingers – “ya’ll bitches not moving fast enough. C’mon, let’s go now, before I get mad. MOVE IT!”
They hadn’t budged an inch or taken his approach very well. Looking at him like he had a tail, one said, “Who the hell do you think you are? If you want a chair, you get here earlier, short nuts! What in the world is your problem? And what the hell type of cologne are you wearing. Are you congested? My god! How gross. Go home, sir!”
James, observing the verbal beating Michael is taking, tapped him on his shoulder, “Aye man, fuck them! Michael? Leave them girls alone. Buy me a drink, man.”
This really is all James ever says. Not pleased with the way things were going for himself, Michael snapped back at James.
“Say man, fuck you! Have your momma buy your begging ass a drink! Can’t you see I’m about to bust a move. I’m sick of you and I’m sick of these hoes!” and walked away.
“Your black ass ain’t having any luck because you’re wearing too much cold medicine, you bubble-eyed mu’afucka! Go wash that shit off, and buy me a drink, man. I’ll wait right here for your short ass,” James said.
LBM: 80’s Lounge pt.3
Ronnie was still in the bathroom, making a scene over the two touchdowns he made against the Dallas Cowboys during Monday night football, but little did the other bar hoppers in the restroom know, he’s never so much as been to an NFL game let alone been on a team. But again, he can pull it off because he fits the part.
He came out and headed over to the DJ booth and introduced himself as Terrell Davis, and had the DJ announce his presence over the music.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” the DJ said, “Special guest in the house tonight, none other than Denver Broncos’ Terrell Davis. Can we get a round of applause for this legend in the game?”
James, Eastian, Laurence, and Michael just looked at each and shook their heads because they knew who was up to what. They looked in the direction of the DJ booth and saw Ronnie saying something to the DJ and pointing back at them. He was laughing with the DJ in all of his flamboyant behavior; flashing cash from the copper that was stolen the night before, he was up to his usual ways.
Jerry had his shirt unbuttoned, showing off his bird chest, dancing with some girl, while Rob and Jim were holding up a wall, looking choosey, but ready to be chosen, pointing at different women, talking about what they’d do to this one and that one, if they had the chance.
Grabbing his nuts, Rob yelled out to the DJ, “Say man, say man, play some Kool and the Gang, or some of that Prince shit if you got any!”
And of course, it never fails, every time they get together as a group like this, on the bar scene, someone has to straighten James out. He’d been drinking far too many Wild Turkey shots and chasing them down with tall glasses of Old Crow, and found himself in the mix with some nigga near the pool table.
He had James bent over backwards with a pool stick laid out across his throat. The guy was with his ex-girlfriend, Sabrina, so he decided to take it upon himself to share his displeasure at the sight of her and her new man, by helping himself to the man’s two hundred and fifty dollar bottle of champagne.
Not taken lightly, he put his hands on James and everyone in the bar heard him screaming out for Ronnie.
“Ronnie help! Ronnie! Get this black motherfucker off me, man! Ronnie!”
Still posing as Terrell Davis, he peeled the dude off of James and said to him, “Hey black man, go on about your business, I’ll take care of it. He’s drunk and upset. You’re with his ex.”
“Nigga, I don’t give a shit about you,” pointing at Ronnie, and then at James, “Or this nigga, you hear me?” he told Ronnie.
“I’m gon’ tell you right now, nigga. I hit hard, bro. You’ll get fucked off talking to me like that. I’ll take that pool stick and beat your ass with it. Now, I just told you,” Ronnie said, “I’ll take care of this bullshit. Go on with your night, nigga. I ain’t got a problem with you.”
Ronnie then looked at Sabrina and said, “Girl, you better tell this nigga.” He turned back to James, grabbed him by the front of his shirt and said, “James, what the fuck is your problem?”
Sabrina’s boyfriend then looked at James. “Yeah, this is your lucky day, boy. I was getting ready to do something bad to your ass, you just don’t know. Don’t you ever put your grown ass hands on anything that belongs to me. That includes my woman” – grabbing his bottle of champagne – “And my liquor! I see why she left you, dumb ass nigga!”
Ronnie pushed James down into the hall, near the restrooms, and told him about himself.
“What the fuck is your problem, man? You’re embarrassing me in there, man. Fuck that broad, you’ve been saying you can’t stand her ass for months, and she’s been saying it, too! Now all of a sudden, you want to have a tender moment? James you been drinking way too much! Newsflash, dumb-ass, she ain’t yours no more, and you’re black ass is cut off tonight! No more drinks, man. I ain’t even scored any pussy to call this bullshit a write-off.”
“I told you I saw her at Red Lions La Posada with that cat. So stop acting like you’ve been done wrong, you saw this shit coming! I’m only going to say this one more time man; it’s time to move on. Sabrina has somebody else now. Not to mention, the nigga look like he got a few more dollars than you. So move on! A tall nigga like you ain’t never had a problem finding a new bitch, so go find a new bitch; preferably one that’ll buy your black ass drinks, because you in my pocket, nigga.”
LBM: 80’s Lounge pt.4
Even after everything Ronnie said to him, his only response was, “You gonna buy me a drink, man?”
Shaking his head, Ronnie said, “Next time I’m going to let that nigga beat the shit out of you. You don’t think fat meat is greasy! Let’s go get some drinks!”
Coming off the dance floor with what looked like Lynne, the same girl Eastian hammered in the coat room, Jerry buttoned his shirt back up and waited by the door while she went and closed her tab. Eastian was somewhere else in the bar, doing his own thing, so he probably never saw her once. On their way out, Jerry turned around, located Rob and gave him Eastian’s keys.
Looking at Jim, Rob said, “Boy, Jerry’s going to fuck the muscles off that chic, ain’t he? Did you see that big ass ring on her finger?”
“Oh shit,” Jim said, “That mean she married, huh?”
He can be a little slow on the social cues.
A few hours into the evening, and they all had something going on with some girl. Ronnie and James left out the club through the kitchen with a couple girls of their own. More than likely Ronnie told them he and James were silent partners on the investment side of the bar just to get some quick ass, and on the way out, he grabbed a couple “to-go” orders that clearly weren’t his.
Laurence spotted Rob and Jim, and walked around the bar to mix conversation with them for a minute while the chic he was with, went into the restroom. Rob was trying to set up a nightcap with a couple older chic’s he flagged down. They didn’t look worth a damn, but at that time of night, when the bar pickings are basically the bottom of the barrel, a couple late night hypes will have to do.
It was either the two skin bags or that short, black midget bitch that kept smiling at Jim all night. All Rob wanted, was to bust a nut and be home before sun up. So they chose the two older chic’s, at least they knew what their intentions were. One of them told Rob they were looking for booty calls.
It doesn’t get any better than that for either Rob or Jim. That was right up their alley. They live for the type of women who don’t mind a nigga’s balls resting on their chin with a bucket of cock juice dripping from the corners of their mouths. The kind of women who know what they want. When they want it, and where they want it. Unfortunately though, those kind of women only come around every once in a while.
Looking around, Laurence was beginning to wonder what his score was doing in the restroom. She hadn’t come out since she’d gone in ten minutes earlier.
“Goddamn, what the hell is this bitch doing in there, taking a shower? Shit. It’s got a sink and a toilet, right? Well then what the fuck is she doing? I’m ready to put some pressure on her backbone. Hold on ya’ll, I’ll be back.”
He walked over to the ladies restroom, peeked in, and saw she was passed out on the floor, with her skirt hiked up around her waist.
“What the fuck! Bitch already gave that ass up. Shit!”
He closed the door and told the bouncer there was a girl passed out on the bathroom floor, and went back over to Rob and Jim.
“Man that bitch in there sleeping on the floor. Alright man, I’m about to call this other chic. I’ll get up with ya’ll tomorrow.”
He pulled his phone out and dialed Shelley, “Hey baby, unlock the door, I’ll be in them guts in thirty minutes.”
Eastian came over for a quick second, “Aye ya’ll I’m heading out with a couple tenders. Ya’ll see Jerry’s black ass in here anywhere? Nigga got my keys.”
“Yeah, he left not too long ago with a bad piece of ass. Boy, that mothafucka was fine, E’. He gave me your keys. You want’em?” Rob asked, squeezing the thighs on the chic he was sitting next to.
“Oh okay, cool. Yeah, I’ll take’em. I’m riding with a couple honies out to Gainey Ranch for the night, though. I’ll catch up with ya’ll tomorrow.”
He walked out, hopped into a Cadillac truck and slipped off into the night with his new girls. Rob and Jim were still at the table talking with the two girls. Rob started sliding his hands up and down her thigh, under the table until she excused herself for the ladies room. She stood up with a rock hard dick that was bulging from her mini-skirt.
“What the fuck! Bitch you got a dick up under that skirt?! You nasty mothafucka! I’m gonna beat the shit out of you!” Rob said.
Looking totally surprised, the tranny said, “Wait, what? I thought you understood what I was saying when I said I wanted to fuck tonight! Are you not interested in me anymore? What did I do?”
“Bitch, hell no, I’m getting ready to put my foot in yo ass. The fuck you think I am? I can’t believe I’m even looking at yo’ ass right now.”
Sitting there speechless, Jim looked like he was still game to go have some fun with them but Rob, totally beside himself, started beating the tranny across the head with a bottle of tabasco sauce, until Earl, the bartender jumped in, and pulled Rob away.
He collected himself, slammed the last bit of his drink, and Jim’s too, and then apologized to Earl.
He looked back at Rob and Jim as they were walking out, and muttered; “I can’t stand these monkeys.”
But ironically, the person he came in to see, was Earl – the bar owner – who happens to be an older black man. Rich decided earlier that evening to stop in, have a drink or two, and talk to Earl about the things that were bothering him. He needed someone to help him make sense of his suspicions about his wife. He didn’t know that he missed her by about an hour.
Earl is an older man from Louisiana. He’s been operating the bar for a good twenty-three years, same spot, same name and definitely same shitty hole-in-the-wall look. He’s seen many smiles, cries, wishes and regrets come and go in his establishment, and he’s become somewhat of a go-to person for insight along the way.
He’s a divorced man of twenty-some odd years, and doesn’t have much of a relationship with his two sons or his daughter. They’re all grown now at this point in time, and he hasn’t spoken to any of them since the divorce from their mother; and although he tried for many years thereafter, to make contact, they just didn’t want a relationship with him. So this is what brought him to Phoenix, Arizona back in the early 80’s, mostly just to get out the environment back home.
His days are spent running the bar; lunch by day, drinks and music by night. This is how he’s dealt with things over the years since. Most evenings, when he’d shut the bar down and get home, he’d fire up a cigar, drink half a bottle of bottom shelf whiskey – the shit wino’s on the corner wouldn’t drink – and listen to old Marvin Gaye records. He wears old spice cologne, shaves with a straight-edge, and always has a toothpick hanging between his lips.
He’s a great story teller, with a piece of advice for every situation, and he still thinks Lincoln Continental was the best car ever built. He often reminisces about the collection of Barry White, Lou Rawls, and Isaac Hayes 8-track tapes he use to have, and he can tell you about every Muhammad Ali interview, and would dare you to think otherwise. He shut the bar down once, behind an argument with a gentleman who insisted Ali wasn’t the greatest boxer during that time or any other. He pissed him off, royally.
He finished making a couple drink requests and sized Rich up. “Young man, you’ve got a thing or two on your brain, dontcha? Hudson Bay Canadian Whiskey is the drink we drink for that kinda shit. I use to drink it, too. That fucking bitch.”
Lighting his cigarette for him, Earl said, “Now talk, son. What seems to be eatin’ at cha peace of mind? You’re having woman troubles, ain’tcha? I can see that shit like red paint! Let me tell you now, young grasshopper, them bitches’ll kill ya or drive you drink. That’s why I finally left my hoe back in Louisiana. I ain’t lying.”
Slamming his first shot and massaging his temples, Rich looked up at Earl and said, “It’s my wife. I’m worried she might be having other plans. I know she has male friends and all but…”
Smiling and interrupting him swiftly, Earl said, “Oh, you’re worried that your woman done been to the hideaway motel with that muddafucka Jodi, playing in the curtains and shit, right? That’s a damn shame. I feel for you, and…..”
“W-w-what, wait? What? Who’s Jodi?”
“Ohhh, you don’t know who Jodi is? Shit,” Earl said, wiping his hands on the white towel he uses to clean the bar tops, “Jodi is a bad muthafucka. You don’t ever want your woman to meet that hoe-grabber. He’ll take her and make her think twice about your relationship. Yes, that motherfucker will. He’ll run that conversation on her, talking soft to her in her ear and be fucking her in her ass fo’ she get her panties off. If Jodi get your girl, you bes’ believe he’ll be driving yo’ Cadillac and wearing yo draws, too… ha-ha-ha.”
“Wait, but who is he? Is the motherfucker here? Point him out to me, so I can beat his ass,” Rich said.
“I knew my wife was cheating. Fucking bitch didn’t come home until two in the morning! I fucking knew it the whole time. Bitch got me thinking I’m some kind of loose cannon. I ain’t crazy!” he continued.
“Alright, alright, now that’s enough of that racket. Listen here, young blood. The term ‘Jodi’ is a hypothetical figure. It come from way back when; when the soldiers got deployed overseas. Listen to me god-damnit. You might learn something, shit! This muddafucka would stay back and fuck all the wives and the girlfriends while the other muddafuckas were gone to fight the war. The name got shortened from Joe D. Grinder, to just Joe D., to just Jodi. You understand now?”
“Oh okay, I see what you’re saying. Basically, anybody could be Jodi then, right?”
“Exactly,” Earl said.
Wiping down the bar area between them, Earl stopped and rested his hands on the edge, and with the toothpick between his lips, said, “Son, you’ve got to learn a few things about this life and these here goddamn womens. You see, I done played in every stream, licked the poison off a frog’s ass, caught the biggest fish, shit, and even cooked the mothafucka right out the water. I even tasted yellow watermelon and that’s some of the sweetest shit in this mothafucka, let me tell you! I know whatcha goin’ through. But young fella, in all the beautiful experiences you’ll have in this lifetime, there will always be at least one thing that’ll try to break your heart and make you cry like a baby, and that one thing is a goddamn woman!”
“Now what would suggest to you that this wife of yours is fooling around with Jodi Long Dick? Tell me what kind of evidence you got, because you might be wrong about all this shit you done brought to my fine establishment.”
“Okay well, she came in late Wednesday night, around 2am or so, and she never once called or answered my texts. She claimed her phone fell down in the seat while she was driving on the highway, and didn’t want to damage her new nail job by digging for it, but ironically, she had it in her hand when she walked in that night. I’m telling you Earl, it’s not like her, man. She’s doing something somewhere with someone.”
“Well did she say how she finally got the phone from the seat or what?” Earl asked.
“Yeah,” Rich said. “She said she had the gas station clerk get it for her. I still don’t feel right about it, man.”
“So let’s look at this nutritiously, nigga,” Earl said, adding, “Do you want to believe her explanation, or do you want her to satisfy your speculation? You can’t have both, muddafucka. And furthermore, are you just upset that she didn’t call you back or respond to your text messages?”
“I want to believe her, period pointblank but” – digging the sleep out of his eyes – “I can’t shake this feeling,” Rich said.
“I hear you there, but,” Earl said, “We men try to set a code of standards in life, for our womens, and when they do something we think is strange, we’re quick to prescribe a remedy that only eases our insecurities – not the flaws that we think they have. You telling me this wife of yours didn’t call or text you at all, after work? Shit, did she even go to work that day?”
“I sure as hell hope she did,” Rich said with wide open eyes. “This is why I’m all fucked up in the head, right now. I don’t know anything. I’d soon just go put a bullet in my temple.”
Earl stepped back and stopped chewing his gum for a second when Rich made that comment. “Now, h-h-hold a minute now, young fella. You talking like you done caught the crazies. I’ll be right back. Let me get these folks they drinks, right quick, hold on,” Earl said.
“I’ll take another drink, too” he said, rubbing his chin.
Looking at him strangely, “You sho’ you can handle mo’ of this shit, talking like that?” Earl said.
“Well at this point, does it really matter? I’ll have a shot of everything missing a cap.
Thoughts In A Shot Glass
He served up a few drinks down the bar a ways and came back with a fresh glass for Rich.
“Alright, maybe you might be on to something, but I’m not going to stand here and plant no seeds in your head, but I will say this, if you go looking for something to be mad about; something that’ll satisfy this wild speculation of yours, that’s a good goddamn way to ruin your marriage. I tell you that right now. So what you want do instead is, give her enough rope and see if she hang herself. Never dig a hole or lose your ground, never lose your composure behind that imagination of yours.”
“Whatever that woman is doing will come out on its own, and these hoes are pretty goddamn tight about keeping shit secret. Now, I don’t mean to call your wife no ho, it’s just the figure of speech we use for these bitches. But, if she fucking around, then we’ll use the word ‘ho’, to describe that ho, and all the ho’s just like that ho’. Unfortunately, the only way you’ll find anything out is if that muddafucka want you to find out, and by the time you do find out, you’ll be coming home from a weekend fishing trip, and yo’ house’ll be packed up and gone with that bitch.”
“Be patient young man, infidelity is some heavy shit, but the worst thing a man can do, is make an executive decision standing in his own delusions. Don’t worry about the drink, it’s on the house. I found a $100 bill on the flo’ earlier. Probably fell out the pocket of the nigga ‘about to have a pool stick pushed up his ass. So you’re covered. Enjoy your drink. I gotta get back to my bar. God bless you” -looking around the bar – “and all the rest of these drunken mothafuckas.”
“Oh, she hasn’t cooked my dinners or made my lunches, either – she’s been busy with work – so she says. What the hell is going on?”
“Listen Richard, you sounding like a slave-driver now. Just because she ain’t been cooking for your oatmeal-white ass, don’t give you no reason to be acting like some big ass child. Now, if you’re that upset about your meals, get your ass up early enough to make your own damn lunches, and get up off your ass in the evenings and make your own damn dinner. You look like you could stand to lose a few pounds any goddamn way. Lost meals ain’t no tale of the tape, son; shit, who you kidding? You’s a grown white boy, so if you’s is hungry, and if you so hungry that yo stomach start touchin’ yo back; you’ll get off ya ass do something to change it, right? Just look at me, my wife divorced my black ass, but I left that ho, it’s all in how you want to look at it. I got off my ass and I believe you can get off yours, too. When was the last time you made her a hot plate of food, nigga? Hell, the both of you’s work long days, right? So get over your bullshit until something greater come along that might, just might, help yo’ cracker ass, because what you got right now don’t amount to a cup of turtle soup with cornbread, and that’s some good shit. But all you got is frog shit, and ain’t none of it jumping, is it? Fact of the matter is, Rich, you’re in love and it can happen like that in the best and worst ways. Find a better way of dealing with that and get off that woman’s case. Go on now, finish that last shot and go home and get some rest, you look like shit. You want me to call in a yellow cab or not?”
“No, I’m alright, Earl. I can drive myself. Thanks anyhow.”
Staring down into the shot glass and whispering to himself, “I’m going to get to the bottom of this shit, Lynne. You’re screwing around on me and you know it! I’m gonna kill that Jodi-ass-motherfucker too. Just watch.”
Across the bar you could hear Earl’s old raspy voice, “Now, which one of you thirsty muppet mouth bitches need another god damn drink? Happy hour is over. Full price or you bitches can sober up. Pay up god damnit! Do it! Do it! And what the fuck you want?”
He stood up, panned the room, knocked a chair over and headed out. Frustrated, feeling stranded without a resolution, he didn’t even notice the woman to his left trying to get his attention. Time and space seemed to slow down dramatically around him. He was in a place where nothing had any substance. This might be the liquid state of a man being dissolved by the very thing he can’t figure out. Smiling faces, blurry scenes and constant eye movements side to side; every man and woman is suspect to him. An unsettled man, he’d become. In love with the ghost of a woman who was moving in angles.
“Maybe I have her all wrong. Maybe I’m going off the deep end,” he thought. Nearing the exit, he glimpsed his own reflection in the glass of the door to the coatroom. Rubbing his face, still looking at his reflection, his phone rang.
He answered. “Hello?”
It’s Lynne. She called to let him know she was on her way home and wanted to see if he was going to be there.
“Why, where are you?” he asked.
“I was out with the girls at Eddie V’s, having seafood. So will I see you when I get home, honey?” she asked again.
“Yeah, I’m heading that way right now.” He closed his phone before she could say anything else. He got in his truck, backed out, and made a right turn against a ‘no-right turn on red’ traffic control device, onto Goldwater, heading north; going home.
Lynne hadn’t been anywhere with her girls, she’d been fucking Jerry in the backseat of her car, in the back parking lot of the bar, like she was working off a debt.
Eastian and the girls he left the bar with, pulled up to their friend Susan’s house even drunker than they were before they left the bar. It took them a minute to get out the car as an empty bottle of Belvedere fell out the passenger side and shattered right there in the driveway. Stacy, the driver, was having an even harder time with the security door – she couldn’t find the keyhole.
“Oh, c’mon door. The goddamn key won’t fit you guys. What the hell,” she said, ringing the doorbell.
“Goddamn Stacy, you’re bi-sexual, right? Therefore, if the keyhole had some hair around it, you’d have found it already,” Eastian said.
Marsha and Jeanie, the other two drunken girls, were too busy laughing with Eastian to notice how long it’d been taking to get into the house.
“Hey! You guys, the key won’t work! Will you all stop laughing like a pack of hyenas and assist a bitch? Damn door! What the hell is Susan doing in there?”
“It’s a door, just put the key in the lock, turn it, and the door will open for you,” Eastian said. “You truly are a real blonde.”
“Close your mouth, moon cricket. You’re not in the hood,” Stacy said sarcastically.
“What kind of shit is that?” Eastian said, trying to sound serious.
Susan finally came to the door, must’ve been the laughing and other commotion that finally got her attention. When she opened it she didn’t say much, other than give a quick smile. She was talking on the phone, telling whoever it was to come over. She gestured to Stacy and everyone that she was going upstairs for a moment and to help themselves to whatever they wanted in kitchen.
No one had to tell Eastian twice, he went right in and grabbed a plastic fork and started eating on the food she had catered in from Macayo’s earlier that evening.
He ate like he hadn’t eaten in days, likely the result of all the alcohol in his system.
“Ya’ll better eat before I get another plate. I’m hungrier than a mothafucka. I don’t think I’ve eaten all day,” he said, looking in the refrigerator. “Where’s the salsa. How the hell can you eat Mexican food without salsa?”
Meanwhile, Stacy was getting butt-naked, out the door behind Jeanie and Marsha, who were already in the Jacuzzi, passing around a bottle of Trefethen. Jeanie was scanning Sirius satellite stations on the built in stereo.
Inside the house, mimicking the doorbell, a big voice yelled, “DING DONG, DADDY’S HOME.”
Coming in the front door, through the living room, and heading straight for the kitchen, were Ronnie and James, getting ready to do exactly as Eastian had done, except that, they were eating from the trays – as if they’d never heard of plates before. Ronnie looked out the arcadia door – and to his surprise – saw Eastian, Jeanie, Stacy, and Marsha. So he walked out and slapped him on the back of his head and said:
“Nigga, how the fuck you get here, faggot?”
Looking up from his plate of food, with a full mouth he responded, “Nigga, how the hell you find me, punk?”
They started laughing and he introduced the skinny-dippers to his friends.
“Ladies, this is Ronnie and James.”
“Hi there ladies, I’m Ronnie.”
“My name is James.”
“Oh please, save it, Ronnie, we know who you are. Hello Mr. James,” Marsha said. “Are you sexy black men getting in with us, or are you boys going to act like there isn’t any sweet, wet, white girl pussy in this water?”
“You know black folk don’t swim, girl. I told you this in the car, on the way here. We’re a tropical people, honey. But talking like that, I might hold my nose and go deep, baby,” Eastian said with a wink.
Ronnie looked at him with a shocked face and started laughing. ‘Goddamn boy, you good-pussy-eatin’-mothafucka, go ‘head wit cha bad ‘self.”
“Shit, how the hell you think I grew my goatee?” Eastian said in jest.
“Anyway, Ronnie man, I was outside at the bar talking to Stacy, she was waiting for her girls to pull the truck around and she asked me if I wanted to come party with them. That’s how I got here, big nigga. I’m assuming you know the chic who lives here, Susan right?”
“You goddamn right I do, you mothafucka, and if you ask me no questions, then I tell you no lies, you black som’ bitch,” Ronnie replied.
“How the hell did ya’ll get away from them chics you left the bar with? I saw ya’ll asses walk out through the kitchen when you left. What happened to that situation?” Eastian asked.
“Man,” James said, “This mothafucka pissed one them bitches off. He’d already gotten into her coach bag by the time we stopped to get gas. We all knew it was him, but he kept denying it, so she told him to take them back to her car. When they got out he called Susan, and that must’ve been about the same time your black ass showed up. We heard a bunch of laughing and shit going on in the background. We didn’t know it was yo’ black ass, though. Up in here trying to hog all the pussy. You wasn’t even gon’ call nobody either, was you?”
“No, no, no, that’s not what happened,” Ronnie said – with a smile on his face.
“My god, what the fuck are you guys talking about? Are you getting in or not?” Marsha said.
“Oh, hold on baby,” Ronnie said. “Check it out man, and this is the solid gold truth” – looking at James – “as I so goddamn see it, you black mothafucka. The bitch said she was a cop and started accusing me of something that I’d, obviously, never do. So calmly and conveniently, I turned my ghost ship around, and took them cumbox hoes back to their car,” laughing and trying to keep a straight face.
“Eastian, don’t believe shit he saying,” James said. “I was there in the back seat, with the other chic getting ready to jiggle my fingers in her ass until this mothafucka fucked the whole thing up. Nigga ruined my chance at some dynamite pussy. Thieving ass, and all for seventeen damn dollars.”
“Man, fuck that shit. Fuck that shit, man. Change the subject,” Ronnie said.
“Stacy, goddamn, where the hell is Susan’s fine ass?”
“How the hell should I know, Ronnie? She’s walking around with a shotgun looking for wabbits. What the hell? She’s probably still in her room preparing for your big black cock. When are you drug dealing rappers getting in the Jacuzzi with us?”
“Really? Really, Stacy?” Eastian said, “Why we gotta be rappers and shit? I’m gonna put my dick in your mouth.”
“Well you’ll need to get in this water to do that, baby,” she said.
Susan was upstairs changing the sheets on her bed, hoping to get her brains fucked out again. She finally came downstairs wearing a bikini and saw Ronnie, James and Eastian. “Well hello, you sexy chocolate men.”
“Bitch, take that bikini off and get your naked, white ass in here with us,” Jeanie said. “I think these guys are afraid of pussy. We’ve been asking them to get in, but they’re over there talking about other bitches and shit.”
“What, Ronnie talking about his other bitches? That’s not like him at all,” Susan said sarcastically.
“Hi baby,” Ronnie said. “Don’t let that hairy wolf pussy run from me tonight, baby. I know your ass got wheels on it, but try to stay still.”
“Well, first of all, only time I skinny-dip is when I’m in the shower,” Susan said. “Secondly Ron, you know you like my hairy snatch. That’s the only time you have facial hair, king cake baby. And thirdly, is that how to get in a cougar’s panties? I need some dick tonight, so you better behave, you Ethiopian fat-belly. I see three guys and four girls, and I think that means someone’s either getting extra pussy, or someone’s not getting any dick.”
The party went on, outside, for another couple of hours, but Ronnie, Eastian, and James never did get in. They made conversation with the girls until they got out. All seven of them were absolutely drunk, but it didn’t hinder the fuck sessions about to take place. Ronnie took Susan into her room, and helped fasten her into the sex swing she just received from Amazon.com, while James went with Stacy and started fucking her in the mirror. Eastian took both Jeanie and Marsha upstairs to the loft.
Marsha must’ve been hogging Eastian all to herself, because Jeanie could be heard complaining, “C’mon, Marsha, I want to fuck him, too.”
“Hold on bitch,” Marsha replied. “Let me prime him first. He’s got a ton of dick to work with.”
Stacy drank more than anyone else, and that made her the most flexible. As soon as James started stroking her, she was squirting left and right. He shot his first load all over the place; in her hair, the pillows, and all across the bedding. She told him to fill her up with his second load, and that is exactly what he did. They fucked a little longer, until she passed out from all the alcohol. Still rock-hard and wanting more, James snuck out the room, tripped over Susan’s mallard duck, and made his way into the loft with Marsha, Jeanie, and Eastian.
In the pitch black room, he grabbed someone’s ass. “Yeah, that’s a nice ass!”
“Which one of you freaky bitches grabbed my ass with them goddamn man hands? Don’t do that shit again!” Eastian said.
“My bad bro, it’s dark in here,” James said.
“No shit, motherfucker!” Eastian fired back, and the two girls started laughing.
“Nigga, what the hell you doing in here, James? Is Stacy sleep already?”
Feeling around in the dark, his hands came to a nice pair of titties; he felt his way up to her mouth, and attempted to push his dick in before she could move her face. “C’mon baby, just suck on it for a little bit,” he said.
Initially Jeanie had her teeth clinched, but gradually, she received him and started giving him a little rhythm.
“Ow, shit! What the fuck, is this mealtime?” James said, “I asked you to suck the mothafucka, and you biting it. I’m not edible.”
So he put his dick back in her mouth and she went easy on him. Squatting down over her, he pulled her head, with his dick still in her mouth, all the way to his balls and made her ingest him, draining his nut down her throat. She was definitely into it, so much so that she switched it up, and started giving him piranha head – chewed his dick to hell and gone, and started yanking on his balls.
“Goddamn girl, what are you doing? That shit hurts. Just let my balls go, shit! Let’em go. Let’em go! I want to stop. Hey! That shit hurts! Ouch, bitch, you’re hurting me!”
But she kept going, pulling on his balls, squeezing them like she was holding a stress ball. She finally let go, likely leaving teeth marks up and down his shaft. He was officially limp now. He stood up and ran out of the room, in some sort of pain. Down the hall they could hear him nearly crying.
“Ah shit, you stupid bitch. You broke the skin in two places. Oh man, my balls! Fuuuck!”
They heard him bumping into the walls and couldn’t help but laugh.
“Damn Jeanie, why’d you go and chew him up like that? He just wanted some head, baby.” Eastian said.
“Like whatever, I didn’t invite him into my mouth. He forced his way in, so I gave him some, and then I ruined the experience for him. He just fucked Stacy, right? And he really expected me to willingly suck the taste of her off of his dick? Yeah right, I don’t eat pussy; no matter how drunk I get. I have heartburn right now from all the Mexican food. So the opening of his dick should be burning in a half hour,” she said, laughing. “That’s what he gets for snaking my throat.”
James returned back to the room where Stacy was still sleeping. He was still holding himself, and in some amount of pain. It wasn’t long before he realized this was the perfect opportunity to go through her clutch bag and take her money, just as Ronnie was probably doing in the room with Susan, who was likely to be sleeping like a baby in her sex swing.
In a quiet, sleeping house, Ronnie poked his head out of door and saw James across the hallway limping.
“James! James! Hey, mothafucka! James!” Why you limping? You let Jeanie suck ya dick, huh? Haha hahah. That’s why I don’t fuck with her. That bitch is a werewolf,” he said, trying to keep from laughing too hard.
“James, nigga is that a duck in the goddamn hallway? Where the fuck do you buy a duck? Susan be buying all type of shit.”
“Ronnie? Stop fucking calling my name! It’s not even a name anymore!”
“James…does your dick hurt?” Ronnie could not stop laughing and poking fun at him.
James was still very quiet and in quite a bit of pain. “Ronnie, that bitch ate my dick up, man. I couldn’t get off of her because she was squeezing my balls, making my stomach hurt. I was stuck. You tell that crazy bitch to stay away from me, man. Tip of my dick feels like it’s starting to burn a little, too. I think she gave me gingivitis.”
Ronnie probably had tears coming out of his eyes from laughing so hard. “Nigga, you don’t get gingivitis in your dick, dumbass. She likes spicy foods when she drinks, but it gives her bad heartburn. Well now you got it in your dick for a couple days. You’ll be alright though.”
They asked each other if they’d made any money; code word for stealing, and while Eastian and the girls were knocked out by now, unaware of the business going on in the hallway, the two of them had gone through his wallet and all the purses. By the time they will have woken up, the two bandits will have been long gone.
Eastian was woken up by Marsha, who was stirred by a text message chiming from his phone. It was Ronnie:
“We got seven hundred and twelve dollars from all you motherfuckers. How much you got? Hit me when you get up.”
He quietly got up and checked his pants, to find out his pockets were already turned inside out. He looked at the timestamp and saw that the text came in over an hour ago. He laid back down thinking – “This isn’t good.”
As he was falling back to sleep, Susan came crashing through the door, shaking him, asking questions. “What the fuck is Ronnie’s problem? Where’s he at!? Eastian wake your ass up!”
Eastian rolled over and she slapped him.
“What the hell! Susan, what are you doing, girl?” he asked.
“Last night I went upstairs when all you fuckers got here, and I counted four hundred and fifty dollars in my pantie drawer because I knew Ronnie and James were coming over. Well guess what? I go to count my money this morning and surprise, surprise, sur-fucking-prise, I got no goddamn MONEY to count! Care to lend a theory?” she asked.
“Hey, you have his number, right, well call him and ask him if he’s seen your goddamn money. I don’t know where your money is! Did you see me once, go upstairs to your room?” he asked.
Goddamn Duck in The Hallway
Jeanie and Marsha woke up and asked what the hell was going on.
“You bitches should check your purses,” Susan said, “You may have lost some money, so to say! The friends of the big dick bastard you’re laying with, took over four hundred dollars from me, and may have taken money from you guys, too.”
“Why’s there a goddamn duck in the hallway? Susan, where do you buy a duck, anyway?” Stacy said, coming down the hall.
She came into the loft where everyone else was, and Marsha said, “Well, your friend James came in here last night and stuck his dick in my mouth, so I got to taste your snatch, and now we’re being told that either him or Ronnie, if not both, have taken money from us. Check your purse because you probably got tapped, too. Is that what I think that is, in your hair? Were you fucking a slingshot last night? Oh my god, you need Pantene.”
Stacy squinted her eyes at her and said, “Oh you think so? Well how’s my ass taste?”
Eastian was just lying there like he was shocked, but this was nothing new to him. He was just playing dumb. His phone buzzed again and it was another message from Ronnie.
–Aye motherfucker, when you wake up, bring the duck, you can’t miss it. I found someone who might want to buy it. Peace out!–
“I want you to tell Ronnie he’s a fucking loser. I want you to tell him to go fuck himself,” Susan said.
Eastian looked at Stacy and said, “What about you? Would you like me to relay something sweet to James? I should start a goddamn messenger service for disgruntle bitches!”
“Hey fuck you, motherfucker!” Susan yelled.
“No, I don’t want you to tell him anything,” Stacy said. “He’ll have to deal with that karma by himself. It was just a hundred-fifty bucks. Big deal.
Standing in the doorway, Susan apologized to Eastian and offered to make breakfast for everyone, then said, “On second thought Eastian, don’t tell Ronnie anything. He’ll need me sooner or later, and I’ll tell him to use what he took from me.”
Eastian Visits Ronnie
“No nigga, I’m telling you, Susan damn near kicked the door down, slapping me and shit, going off about you stealing some damn money from her, and you know what made it even worse? Stacy walked in asking about James. He stole money from her, too. Which one of you raggedy ass dogs stole my money. What makes a nigga steal another man’s money? What kind of shit is that?”
Standing there counting “his” money, Ronnie was clearly unaffected by any of it. “Nigga, when your name is mine, you don’t have to give a shit about that shit. Now, I told you already, I’m the Big Dog. Oh, and just so you know, negro, after you left she called and bitched a little bit before asking me to come back over by myself tonight; and alone this time. So I told her I would if she’d make a sizeable donation to the “Help Ronnie Holloway” foundation.”
“She did what!” Eastian said, slightly shocked.
“You see, E’, she’s upset that I left without letting her know. I left her sweet, healthy ass swinging in that sex sling; and what you need to know about Susan, and floozies in general, is simply this, their anger and frustration is never about what they say it’s about, unless it’s a broken fingernail or some shit like that. It’s always something different, and in the case of Susan, it damn sure ain’t about the money, it’s the fact that I treat her like I treat the rest, even though she’s a nine and a half, on a ten point scale.”
“She makes $300,000 a year. Do you honestly believe she’s upset about four hundred and fifty damn dollars? Nigga please, get real! I’ve been fucking her for the last three years, week in and week out, dick in and dick out, and every time we get together, I stay the night and we fuck. Next morning, she has money for me each and every goddamn time. Different amounts, too. She knows what I’m about and she also knows no one else can toss that ass around like I do. I am the best. I can’t lose. Anyhow, you want something from the store, you ole’ Dear Abby ass mothafucka?”
Looking around as though he’d lost something, he looked back at Eastian and said, “Uh, did you forget something?”
“Say what?” Eastian responded.
“Let me say it a little louder and a lot slower, nigga! Did you forget something?”
“Like what?” Eastian asked, looking very confused.
“Nigga, like a duck, mothafucka! Did you forget the duck? Barbeque Jack said he was interested in buying it at black market prices. He’ll buy it for a buck and a quarter. Do you have the duck or what? This shit can’t be that hard? Where’s the duck?”
Eastian started laughing and said, “Oh shit, man I sold that duck to the Asian dude at the Panda Express on 59th and Glendale. That’s where I’m coming from right now.”
“I said bring the duck to me, not go sell it to Bruce Lee Tram Pham! Goddamn, now you’re fucking with my money stream. Give me his number; I’ll go pick the duck up myself. What’s his number?” Ronnie said.
“Well, you can’t pick the duck up, bro,” Eastian said.
“Well, if you just give me the number, I can call that chicken-fried-rice mothafucka before he dices up my bird. I need the money I’m going to get from selling it to Barbeque Jack,” Ronnie said.
“Ronnie, do you see this bowl of white rice with the meat all up under the mu’afucka? Nigga that duck is gone. I brought an extra bowl if you want it.”
“Nigga, are you eating my duck?” Ronnie asked.
Another fork full of meat going into his mouth and he said, “No, you don’t have a duck. Your bitch Susan had a duck, and then I had a duck; then I went and got paid for that duck. Now with this one hundred sixty bucks plus the money you robbed from me this morning, I should have a little more than two hundred dollars on me. So un-ass my money so I can get my ass from around here.”
After a decent night of rest and another night of infidelity, Lynne quietly got out of bed, brushed her teeth, and washed her face. For a moment in time, she stared at her reflection in the mirror. Something was eating at her conscience. She walked out of the bathroom, looked out the window, and thought, “What a beautiful day.”
Looking in on her husband, she turned around and headed downstairs to put some coffee on. She located her iPod and started up a playlist. While her husband was still upstairs, she snuck out to her car and got the brand new fishing pole that she’d purchased for him the other day. When she came back in, she could hear him walking around upstairs, so she stood at the bottom of the staircase waiting for him to make his way down. When he finally did, she extended it out to him like a bouquet of roses and said, “I love you, honey.”
“Wow, what brought this on?” he asked. “I’ve been thinking about a new pole for some time now, just couldn’t justify all that money yet. Thank you, sweetheart.”
But even through his gratitude and appreciation, he was still unsettled about her whereabouts, and the gift only fortified his suspicions about that night. He was still looking and waiting for answers.
“So really, honey,” he asked, “Where is this coming from?”
“Nowhere in particular, baby. Like I said, I saw it a few days ago while I was out with Dawn, looking at new tennis rackets, and decided to get it. If you don’t like the color, I or we, can…..”
He set the fishing pole down gently, and stopped her in the middle of her sentence. “What’s going on, I know there’s something. I’m begging you to tell me. I feel like there’s more distant than usual between you and I. Is this just my imagination or what? If we have an issue, we need to talk about it openly.”
She looked at him, took at deep breath and said, “Rich, I love you very much, and we’ve been through a lot. We’ve journeyed a long way together. But I’m just not happy any more. I need more and you’re not doing it for me any longer. I’ve tried suppressing these feelings for many months. I even thought it was you. But now I realize that I’ve come to my end in this marriage. It’s not fair to you, nor is it fair to me to continue this charade.”
She looked around and started crying. She looked back at him and said;
“Richard, I’ve been seeing another man. He’s shown me my smile, and real adoration. I’ve tried to re-invent things around here for us, I really have. I’ve tried to be for you what you wanted of me, just to hold on to something that we could rebuild from. But there’s nothing to hold on to anymore, and I’m done lying to myself.
You’ve done absolutely nothing to meet me half way and if you’ve started feeling alone in this relationship, it’s because I’ve moved on, emotionally. What you’re feeling now is exactly what I felt for months; and now for us, it’s much too late to try anything new. I want out of the marriage, and I prefer it to be civil. I don’t want to fight about this.”
Think It Through
She sat down and the tears continued rolling down her face. They fell and they continued to fall like rain. He was devastated by everything she’d just said, and he calmly said to her:
“So this goddamn fishing pole is just a lovely parting gift, right? Like some sort of pitiful consolation prize, and after how many years of marriage? Is this part of a plan to, say, send me fishing for a weekend, while you pack our home up and go off into the horizon with some other motherfucker, Lynne? Huh? Tell me! When did you meet him? Was it the other night when you waltzed your ass in here like it was the thing to do!? Is that where you were, with him? And why you hadn’t answered your phone? Huh?”
He tried to calm himself down for a moment, and then asked, “Please tell me that you just need some space to think. I can do that, honey. I know I haven’t been the best husband, but you haven’t been the best wife either, but I’m willing to work on my inconsistencies, just so we can give ourselves a better chance at this.”
“No Rich, I wish it were that easy. Weren’t you listening to me? I just said it’s too late for all of those efforts? Richard, when I said I love you, but want out of the marriage, it means love isn’t enough anymore. We’re over, not today or a week or month ago. We’ve been over for at least eight months. And yes, I met him a couple weeks ago. I want a divorce and I want you to leave,” she said.
“I need to say something else here, Richard,” she said. “That night I came in late, I thought about him all night. I’ve been thinking about him ever since, and that’s when I realized, finally, that you and I don’t belong anymore. I’m sorry. But our time has come and gone. I didn’t plan for this. We just grew apart.”
He walked over to her and dropped to his knees, and started crying, begging her to just think it over.
“Oh God Richard, what happened to us?” She said through her own tears, realizing the truth of her words, and the pain of letting go.
He stood up and said, “I’m going to miss you, and as much as I don’t want to let you go or see that this is it, I’m not going to force you against your will. I suppose one of us should leave tonight.”
“Yeah, that would be best now,” she responded.
He certainly wasn’t expecting that response from her, and in turn, he grabbed their wedding picture and flung it across the room. Crying, he slapped the countertop, turned around and said, “I’m assuming you’ve been sleeping with him, too?”
“Yes, I had sex with him at a bar! Is that what you want to know Rich, that I fucked another man at a bar, in a coatroom? Is that enough for you? Do you want play action details of how huge his dick is? Or how he filled me up inside? Or how I sucked him off? Or how I lust for black men? Are these the killing fields, Richard? Is this what you want to hear? My desires for other men?”
He snapped and raced across the living room, grabbed her by the hair and started slapping her. He caught himself when he went to backhand her a fourth time. He let go of her hair and immediately apologized. Slowly backing away from her, shaking his head in total denial about what he’d just done, he apologized again.
Against the wall, crying, a trickle of blood came running from her nose and she said, “Well, I’m glad I got that off my chest. You need to leave now, you bastard! Fucking leave!”
He headed upstairs to get some things, visibly hurt, and said, “I knew all along, you bitch!”
After some time had passed, roughly ten minutes, she was still sitting there on the floor against the wall, and she could hear everything he was doing. She heard him coming down the hallway, but then he stopped and walked back into the room. She called his name. “Rich? Richard? Honey? What are you doing?”
Standing up slowly, she started her way up the staircase calling his name, but he was ignoring her. But then his .38 pistol goes off just once. She rushed upstairs like a bolt of lightning, and started screaming at the sight of him lying on the floor gasping for air, legs twitching, and blood leaking.
Looking up at his wife, with his hand out to her, he’d taken his last breath in their marriage and of the greater world. His hand falls as a single tear treks its way down his cheek. In this moment…his life had ended.
‘round A Few Times
It was a day she wouldn’t have normally taken off, but Jerry convinced Shaun to take a load off and hang out with him for a bit. They met in the Biltmore area, across the street from the bookstore she owns. They talked for a few hours and as it turned out, she’s seen him the last few times he’s come into the restaurant, and has had an interest in him since then, but never thought it was a good idea to approach him during her shift. She knows exactly what he likes to eat and gives him extra wings and ranch sauce under her employee discount.
“That’s nice to know, because I wondered about you, too. But when I’d come in, the greeter would always seat us away from your area, on the opposite side of the restaurant, and I say ‘your area’ because that’s where you always were. So it made it a little tough trying to flag you down from the other end of the restaurant,” he said. “Not to mention, you don’t look as receptive during work, as you do right now.”
“So what was different this time then?” she asked.
“Well for one, I got seated in your area. Secondly, I decided to just talk to you. I figured that, at worst, you’d tell me no or something. I don’t know. You look like you turn men down just for the sport of it.”
“Well, I don’t do it for sport. I’m just not one that bounces from heart to heart. I like to focus on one thing at a time, if it’s mutual, of course. I’m alone mostly, but I don’t prefer this single stuff much, my heart is too big for me to be alone. But some of you men make it tough, and it becomes hard out here for a bitch. I would love to be on someone’s mind, and know that I have something to look forward to when my day ends, which is why I told you that I don’t have time for bullshit.”
“I’ve been interested in you for a long time now, but you just don’t come in and show yourself much, nor does it help when you look like a big time player, you smooth talker, you,” she said.
“Well, are you ready to take a walk?” he asked.
They walked around the Biltmore a little while longer and it was obvious that he wanted to spend a little more time with her, but he had another date, somewhere else, but of course he couldn’t tell her that.
“Alright honey, I guess I should get moving before I wear my welcome out. Do you want to do dinner some time? You don’t have to answer now, just let me know later on or whatever.”
“Better yet,” she said, “Let’s flip a coin and see. Your place or mine?”
Later that evening the doorbell rang and Shaun opened the door. It was Jerry.
“My goodness, aren’t we early,” she said with a smile.
“Yeah because the early bird gets to whip his dick out,” he thought to himself.
He stepped in and she took his overnight bag and the bottle of wine he brought.
“Nice, a wine enthusiast, are you? Get out of here, stop playing. Tell me it’s not true?”
“Yeah, I wish, just like I wish I knew French, ya know?”
She continued on about her love of wine while he walked around in her living room looking at the things she likes, pictures on the wall, candles, and magazines, etc.
He joined her in the kitchen. “Let me see what you got going on in here. Smells like roast, carrots and potatoes, no?”
“We’ll just have to wait and see babe,” she replied.
The timer went off and she pulled it out of the oven. Nice round rump roast, with all the trimmings around it. They ate, talked, and drank wine while Floetry played on her iPod in the background. He leaned over to meet her half way across the table – it’s a small table, but she followed his lead and they kissed – tasting each other’s wine-soaked lips. She stood up, grabbed his hand, and to her room they went.
He laid her down, undid her bra, pulled her Lycra pants off and started rubbing between her thighs. After the heavy touching – and tongue tasting – he slipped his hand inside her panties and started fingering her. She was already wet, but he kept playing with her clit. He gave her a twenty second breather while he got undressed, and then they got very busy under two thick comforters and a flat sheet. She sucked his dick like money was coming out.
Every few minutes she’d come back up and they’d kiss a little more. She got on top and rode him hard and fast. Then she got up on her feet and squat fucked him. They changed positions again and he got on top of her. Cranked her legs back to her chest and began dropping dick straight down into her.
When they finished, he stood up on her bed, did his victory dance, and went into the bathroom to clean himself up a bit. She went back to the dinner table and picked at the last bit of roast on her plate. She could hear him singing in the bathroom and it made her smile a bit.
As usual, whenever he’d be in a woman’s bathroom, he’d get a little nosey and see what things she keeps. Lots of different scented soap, hair gels, skin creams, candles, etc. He’s a sucker for a woman who smells like Victoria Secret. He looked in the medicine cabinet and saw a few bottles of pills and wondered what they were. He turned the bottles around to see the labels, and the first bottle said, Abilify, the second said Seroquel, and the last bottle said Valtrex. He started racking his brain trying to remember what the Valtrex commercials he’d seen on TV were for.
So he finished cleaning himself up, took a piss, washed his face and brushed his teeth. He’d been licking and kissing on her, too. He came out trying to hold an honest smile, but more like a concerned smile, and she went in and closed the door behind her. She opened her medicine cabinet to get her toothbrush, and saw that she’d forgotten to hide her medicines, and quietly started freaking out wondering if he’d been inquisitive enough to look inside her cabinets and drawers.
Out in the bedroom, he was on his iPhone googling Valtrex. The search came back as a herpes medication. He became very angry, and before he could get back to his happy face, she came out, and said, “Baby, I hope you don’t think I’m an easy lay. I’m not that kind of girl.”
He’s still in denial about her situation, and looked up at her and said, “Why the fuck didn’t you tell me?”
“Tell you what baby? What are you talking about?” she said, leaning over to kiss him again; but he dodges the attempt.
“What’s wrong honey?” she said.
“Are you really going to stand there and act like you don’t know what the fuck I’m talking about? Are you seriously going to play dumb and make me tell you? You have no respect for me, or my well-being do you?” he asked.
“Honey, what are you talking about? Like seriously, what’s going on?” she said.
“Bitch, you have something that you should’ve been upfront about,” he said.
She became upset, too.
“So you went into my goddamn cabinets? You fucking snoop dog! How could you violate me like that? I’m falling in love with you, and you go and do this? How could you do such a thing? I’m so hurt!”
In total disbelief at how she’d trying to twist the situation to make herself out to be the victim, he raised his voice, “Wait! What? Are you fucking serious, you rancid bitch? You want to stand here and talk about being violated? Being hurt? You have some real nerve. I should twist your goddamn head off your shoulders! I can’t believe this shit! Why didn’t you tell me you had that?”
Decent Girl, Pretty Face
“Would you have still had sex with me if I told you I did, when we were having dinner?” she asked.
“Hell-fucking-no, I wouldn’t have. Are you going two forty-six? If you would’ve told me this at the goddamn Biltmore, I wouldn’t be here now, god damnit!”
“Well,” shrugging her shoulders, “That’s why I didn’t tell you, you dickhead. You would have walked away from me. I mean, look how you’re treating me now. Like I have a disease, or some shit! I told your dumb ass it’s hard out here for a bitch.”
“Bitch! You have a disease! You need some medicine for your brain, too. Is that what that other shit in there is for; Seroquel and Abilify? ‘Cause you’re a crazy bitch, and you don’t give a shit about anyone else? That’s safe to say, right?”
She started laughing and said, “Hey Jerry, welcome to the Club, we’re now 40 million subscribers strong. Get use to it and get the fuck out my house! Man up, and take responsibility for your actions! You can’t go around blaming other people for the lemon trees in your life. Grow a pair of balls and make lemonade, casanova. I can’t believe I cooked roast for you. You are so ungrateful. Just like a typical man. Get the fuck out of my house. You’re so full of drama. Big ass man-baby.”
Totally beside himself by her logic and her mouth, he grabbed her and threw her into the wall. Grabbed her again and her towel went flying off as if she lost her footing on a fast moving treadmill. He picked her up again and body slammed her on the carpet. She laughed like she was on a rollercoaster.
He kicked her in the stomach at least six or seven times, causing her to throw up the jizz she just swallowed. Yet somehow, she still found a way to antagonize him and he kept assaulting her, even throughout her crying, laughing, and begging moments.
He walked out the bedroom, nearly out of his mind, asking himself – “What am I going to do to this bitch?”
From the kitchen he heard her yell, “You’re a dead motherfucker when my brother finds out what you’ve done to me, baby. YOU’RE A DEAD NIGGA. Get the fuck out of my house, dead nigga,” she screamed.
He grabbed the knife on the cutting board and went back into the bedroom. Standing over her, he said, “Well, I can’t say you’re completely responsible for what I’m going to do to your rotten, deceitful ass, but you know that you owed me enough to have some fucking compassion and not put yourself first!”
“Now look at you, you look like a bag of broken bones. My first impulse is to shut your fucking lights out and put you out of your misery, but I think this is good enough for a salty bitch.”
He dropped the paring knife and said, “Let’s hope you’ve been taking your medicine religiously and I don’t get that shit you’re sharing around.”
She’s been dealing with this for over a year now, and every time someone shows interest in her or she finds an interest in someone, the issue of having this disease is front and center, haunting her every second of the waking day. She’s well aware of the notion that no one is ever going to want anything to do with her once she tells them about it, but she still has trouble dealing with it.
She doesn’t want to be alone for the rest of her life, nor does she want to be in a relationship where she has to hide prescription bottles for her psychological problems, either. She finds it very embarrassing. She struggles with this every day, and will probably never lead a decent life of her own design, and in the way that she would like it to be.
She writes in her diary that sometimes she wishes she were dead, her family treats her like she’s battery acid and prefers her not to come around.
Maybe they feel this way because they warned her about her ex long before she married him, but she had it in her heart that he was a good guy. Such is the case when love isn’t managed with a fair emotional and logical balance; and so, her family has isolated her for disregarding their feelings about him, and now this is her life and the shit in it. It’s either being open about everything, or be lonely.
For now though, she’ll have to continue coming to grips with her body and her mind. In her mind, he was wrong for snooping through her cabinets, but unfortunately she doesn’t respect self-preservation anymore. There she sits, slumped at the wall, pathetic and in pain. Her life is nothing like the actors in the Valtrex commercials; on beach cruisers, riding through flocks of white seagulls at sunset, with great kool aid smiles stretching from ear to ear; all the while, beautiful music laid over false representations of what life is like; living with that condition. Her anti-psychotic medications ease her mental state. She seems quite well on the outside; decent girl, pretty face and all, but underneath she is struggling with life, period.
Dawn and Shaun haven’t spoken for a few weeks now, ever since their last argument, when Shaun accused Dawn of stealing from her. Dawn’s stance was simple – Shaun didn’t have shit worth stealing. Closing up the shop for the day, her cellphone rang. It was Shaun calling, the very next day following her fallout with Jerry.
Reluctant to take the call, she went against her better judgment, and answered it anyway.
“Listen, I hope you’re not calling me to talk about what more you think I’ve stolen from you again, are you?”
Shaun explained in all detail about what happened between her and Jerry the night before, and Dawn interrupted:
“Well why the fuck didn’t you tell him you had that? Jesus Christ Shaun, what’s going on with you? Ever since your ex, you’ve been bitter as all hell – understandably so – but for you to take this turn and take it out on the world is completely wrong. This is the fifth guy you’ve fucked, and possibly ruined for life.”
“Now this new guy Jerry, you say his name is, went looking through your cabinets and found your prescription bottle after you had sex with him, and you have the nerve to sit here, over the phone, and be pissed at him? That’s really shitty! If I were him, I’d have kept beating your ass! You had no plans on telling him, but you fucked him even though you knew better? And then you gave him head and kissed him to top it off? You are a mess, Shaun!”
“You know what? I don’t think we need to be friends any longer, Shaun. You really need help. I can’t keep up with your drama and erratic ways. You’ve been taking your anger out on the wrong people, and I’ve had enough. I’m afraid to hang out with you, and don’t particularly care, or want, to be seen with you when you talk to forks and empty glasses and shit. Have you been taking your medications?”
Shaun remained on the phone quietly, while Dawn continued her onslaught.
“Hello? Shaun? Are you still there?”
“Yes, I am,” she calmly replied. “And guess what, Ms. I’m all perfect and shit, I’m going to hurt you so bad for this!” and hung up.
“Wow, this crazy bitch just hung up on me, again. Oh fucking well, if you don’t like the truth, go straight to hell bitch. No water, no ice,” Dawn said, looking at her phone.
As usual, his phone rang but he didn’t answer it. He and Alexis had just finished having sex, and while she was in the shower, he went downstairs and snuck a phone call with Lynne, and they talked for as long as Alexis was in bathroom. He’d been under the impression that her husband left her for another woman, and during their conversation she got upset that he was trying to get off the phone with her.
“Hey honey, I’ve got the Merry-maid housecleaners here, and I need to pay them before they leave,” he said. “So let me reach you back in a bit, okay?”
“Well I can hold the line, while you handle business,” she said.
“No, I’ll just buzz you back. I’m waiting for them to leave so I can go release these demons,” he told her.
“Demons? What demons? What are you talking about?”
“Honey,” he said in a rushed and agitated whisper, “I need to take a shit.”
Still in the bathroom, Alexis called his name.
“Eastian, what are you doing honey? Are you talking to someone down there? Who is that?”
He pulled the phone away from his ear, covering the mouthpiece, looked up at his doorway and said, “I’m good, just talking to the cleaning service on the phone. I’ll be up in a minute or two.”
He got back to the phone conversation and, in a hushed tone said, “Lynne, I said I will call you back. Goddamn. What is your deal? I will call you back!”
Feeling like she was being bull-shitted, she copped an attitude: “Why don’t you just say you don’t want to see me anymore, Eastian? You got your dick wet a few times and now I’m just some nag, right? Well, fuck you, Eastian. Fuck you,” and hung up.
Weak & Pussy Whipped
She’s been a wreck ever since she met him, and now that he’d tapped her ass a few times, she felt like he wasn’t all that in to her any longer. As for Jerry though, she was okay with him, but there was something about Eastian that got into her head and drove her crazy. She needed him like nothing else.
After she hung up on him, she sat there in her office chair, pissed off for a while, until her phone rang. It was him – Eastian.
“What!” she answered.
“Listen to me damnit. Ever since your husband left you, you’ve been on my ass about not making time for you. It wasn’t a problem that we saw each other once or twice a week, and now that you’re on the market again, you expect me to just slide right on into place? Well I can tell you now, that shit ain’t happening; at least as far as I can see,” he said.
“I’m not asking you to ‘just slide right in’, you asshole,” she snapped back.
“Get over yourself. Your dick is pretty big, but it isn’t that goddamn big! I’m just wondering why you don’t make the effort to see me more. I mean, I am available now. We don’t have to hide, ya know.”
The line got quiet for a moment, until her other line rang. Display read “Jerry.”
“Hey look, I really need to take this client call. This isn’t over, so make yourself available later okay. I’ll call you, and, please, answer that piece of shit phone!”
She clicked the line. “Well hello, Mister Jerry, sir. How are you, big daddy?”
“Same ole shit and almost out of toilet paper,” he said. “But what’s going on with you, baby-girl?”
“I don’t know, but I’ve been thinking about you today. Had a few meetings and forgot to call you,” she said, twirling her hair, talking with a smile.
“Baby, I’m a reasonable man, so think nothing of it,” he said. “I’m not up to anything exciting, just thought I’d ring you up and check ya out. So have you healed from that punishing I gave you the other night?”
“Oh wow, nice language,” she said.
“Yeah, I’m all repaired, maybe a tad bit sore, but nothing that a little more dick can’t fix. So what’re your plans this evening? Want to bring an overnight bag and have dinner, maybe relax in the pool? It’s heated, and your nuts won’t shrivel up. I want you to see my home. Maybe break in the new Copenhagen bedroom set? What do you think about that?”
“Damn right, I do. Just text me the address and I’ll punch it in on navigation,” he said.
She can see that she’s already weakened and pussy-whipped him; and it turns her off so bad, but she needs the dick and Eastian isn’t falling into her subtleties very well. If she could have it her way, she’d much rather have Eastian pussy-whipped. The call ended and she texted him her address and said; “Bring me something special, daddy, xoxo.”
Looking out the window as she always does, it’s a wonder she gets anything done.
“Go to hell Eastian. If you don’t want to spend time with me, I will get it somewhere else,” she thought.
Looking down at the tan line again, where her ring used to be, she took a deep breath remembering a time when it felt good to leave the office at the end of a long day and go home to her special someone. Now, when she gets home, it’s just her. Things are very different for her; no one waiting for her smile and pretty face, and no one wanting any more than her ass in the air and her face in the pillows.
“I still love you, Richard,” she thought, looking up into the blue afternoon sky. She grabbed a notepad and headed out to the conference room for her afternoon meeting.
There’s The Door
While Eastian was arguing with Lynne over the phone, Alexis was getting out the shower. She heard him having an unusual discussion, so she stepped lightly to the corner of the wall and knelt down in a towel, hair dripping wet, listening to him. She’s pretty upset at this point, because now she knows that he’s been doing other things with other women.
“All the fucking shit I’ve done for this motherfucker! I cannot believe this shit,” she thought as the water dripped off the ends of her hair.
Unfortunately for her though, she can’t just run downstairs reigning fire on him, she knew his stance from the word ‘go’. Nevertheless, she was hurt, biting down on her lip, clinching her fist. She tiptoed backwards into the bathroom, creating the impression that she knew nothing of his willing and dealings downstairs.
Staring at her reflection in the mirror with her arms crossed, she called down to him asking if he was okay. He yelled back that he was talking to the Merry-maids service person on the phone. A couple minutes went by and she was still in the mirror.
As he was heading up the stairs, she came out of the bathroom butt-naked, titties bouncing, with her hair in a towel. She stopped three feet in front of him and he said, “You want to go another round?”
“Yeah, as soon as you tell me who the fuck you were talking to?”
“Baby, I told you, it was the Merry-maid service. I’m thinking about having my house cleaned professionally. Why, what’s wrong with you? Shit!”
With her titties practically in his face, he couldn’t stop cutting his eyes at them, and she slapped him.
“Stop looking at my titties,” she said.
“Eastian, I heard the whole damn conversation, so don’t stand here and treat me like I’m some goddamn idiot! Who else is giving you pussy?! Where does she live?”
“Well,” he said, “If you want to leave, there’s the door! Walk on through it. I don’t remember signing any papers saying I’m yours. So if you want to leave, then get the hell out! You don’t know what I got going on, and I’m not about to explain myself to you or nobody else. So take them pretty titties and get the fuck home!”
“Oh right, of course. Classic male response, Eastian! You get called out on your shit and this is your best act. Fuck you! Yeah, I’m leaving, and when you need your dick sucked, you can curl up in a little ball on the floor and suck it yourself. I hate you!”
“Yeah, I heard it all before, Alexis. But check it out, baby, don’t go away mad, just go away!”
Sit Still, You Bitch!
Finishing her last hair appointment, she started organizing everything so that she could leave and go home early, but she had a thought to call Shaun and apologize for some of the things she’d said to her. The phone rang a couple times before Shaun answered, and in her usual tone, “What could you possibly be calling me about, devil Dawn?”
“Hey Shaun,” she said, “What are you up to today? Got anything going on?”
“I’m minding my own friggin’ business. You ever try it out, bitch?” Shaun fired back.
Staying true to her intentions, she remained focused enough to offer a little goodwill.
“Oh that’s really nice language. Listen, I was cleaning up the shop, getting ready to close up for the day, and I…well first, let me apologize about our phone conversation. I was out of my lane and I shouldn’t have said what I said, so I apologize and I want to make it up to you.”
“So, if you aren’t too busy, maybe you could come down to the shop and I can do something nice with your hair. What do you think? Are you available?”
“Ohhh,” Shaun said, “I see, you want me drive my ass down there and let you on top of my head again? Bitch, you really are that fucking stupid, aren’t you?”
“Seriously, Dawn? Do you remember the last time I let you put your goddamn hands on my head? Do you remember what happened? Well, let me kindly refresh whatever it is you call a brain, floating in the vast desert between your goddamn ears! You burned my shit out! Remember that?”
“So, let me just kill your tender moment real quick. You have some real nerve to think that I’d let you get anywhere near my shit again! I’m on my way down there, right now. So I’ll see you in a few minutes. Sit still you bitch!” and the phone went dead.
Mind fuck: Self-Preservation
She finished getting dressed, and stormed down the stairs and out the front door, slamming it closed behind her. Eastian stopped for a moment, thinking, “What the fuck did I just do?”
She hadn’t gotten into her car yet, when he came running out after her.
“Hey, hey, wait. Alexis turn around for a second. I’m sorry. Let’s talk about this for a minute. You don’t deserve anything less than what you’ve been giving. I’m sorry for talking that way. I know that you mean well and don’t want to be hurt. I’m just scared as hell about opening up to someone. I don’t have the qualities to be in a functional relationship. I’ve seen my buddies cheat on their wives and girlfriends and I’ve seen my lady friends cheat on their husbands and boyfriends, too. So, I have no faith in relationships or marriages and when someone gets close, I pull back.”
“Take this woman I was arguing with while you were in the shower, for instance; bitch is married. When I met you, you were going through some shit, too. You just didn’t know I knew. All of you bitches reinforce my skepticism, so forgive me for playing self-preservation here. It’s what the hell I do.”
“When all this shit is said and done, and I’m too old to party, hopefully before then, I will have outgrown chasing women, and will have found a part of me that isn’t so shady. I want the same things everyone else wants. I’m just not willing to be that vulnerable yet.”
“Well then, it sounds like you want your cake and eat it too, is all I’m hearing. Life will go on for us both. Call me when you have something more to say to me,” she said. She got in her car and drove off.