by Omar Tyree
“Today we entertain the importance of cultural, age and gender diversity within the workplace,” he stated in his usual stroll up and down the aisles of the large classroom. The man was never about small talk. He would jump right into his lecture and keep it rolling. There was never a “How are you doing? How was your day today? Good afternoon,” or any of that.
Everyday class was the same approach: “Today we entertain this . . . tomorrow we will entertain that . . .”
Yet, his air of importance and his booming voice made you hang onto his every word. Even when he paused and said nothing, you awaited his next syllable. But all Queen could think about was Dr. Blake lecturing her alone in nothing but his tie, socks and shoes.
“Without diversity, this great nation that we call America would have never become America; it would have been just. . . a place of stolen land. But it was diversity that allowed America to shape and mold its laws, practices and politics around the many people who would make this nation great.
“Africans, Indians, Irish and Jews were all up in the mix . . . including the Scotts, the Dutch, the French and the Spaniards, all mixing and mingling together.”
Queen hesitated before she looked over at the blonde-haired student sitting to her right.
Now I know I’m not the only one in this room who thinks he sounds overly sexual, she mused, especially with his mixing and mingling analogy.
When the blonde woman smiled at her, she had her answer.
I bet every woman in here is wondering how big his dick is. But I’m wondering if he has gray hairs all over it. Would that freak me out or what?
Adding to her distraction, Dr. Blake paused and grinned at her.
Oh my God, did everybody see that?
Queen was afraid to look around the room and find out, feeling guilty and naked. She stared down at the linoleum floor with her heart racing.
This man makes me feel so damn shameful . . . and I like it! Is that a bad thing?
“What are your thoughts on diversity, Marianne? What nationality are you?”
He wasn’t even looking at the dark-haired, olive-skinned student when he spoke to her. His question startled her before she gathered herself to answer.
“Oh, I’m ah, Iranian and Pakistani. And diversity is important. Most of the advanced countries have of the most diverse populations.”
“But is that because diverse groups of people flock to these advanced nations, or is it diversity that creates these advancements? What are your thoughts, Robert?” he asked an older white male in his early thirties, a returnee.
“Ahhh, I’m Irish and German, and it’s a little bit of both, actually. Most of the advanced nations start off with migration, rapid population growth, and natural competition; and from there, you generally have a need for more housing and jobs for an abundant workforce, and then the whole thing just explodes into advanced technology to deal with it all.”
Dr. Blake nodded. “Is that right, Queen?”
“Yes,” she uttered without thinking.
“And what nationality are you?”
“Black.”
Her dry answer brought a hefty laugh from her classmates.
“Is that all you are?” the professor challenged her.
Queen shrugged. “I mean, black people aren’t really allowed talk about other races unless you’re mixed. And even then it’s a problem.”
“So you’re not mixed? You’re a true blue African?” Dr. Blake asked her.
Three African students chuckled and smiled at the idea, knowing better. Queen was nowhere near African. She was an authentic American, with facial and body features that could be from anywhere. She was only brown with them.
“Well, I’m mixed,” Dr. Blake informed them all. “I’m Native American, African, British and Dutch, with ancestors from the island of Antigua. But only my Native American ancestry is actually from the islands. The rest migrated there, or were enslaved there. And lord only knows how many mixtures I have from the American side of my family.”
Queen didn’t care to hear about it. It was all mumbo jumbo in America. Black was black, and everything in-between was useless, unless you were a Creole from Louisiana, and Queen was not. So she ignored it all. She was only there to get her grade.
FFFFFFFFFFFFFFF
At the end of class, Dr. Blake stopped next to her desk.
“You didn’t feel like I was singling you out, did you?” he asked her apologetically.
She shook it off as she gathered her things to leave. “I singled myself out if anything. I just should have said African-American.”
“No, you said what you truly feel.”
“Yeah, and you didn’t accept it,” she responded.
“Actually, you gave me a teaching point. We are all more than just our skin colors. But if no one is willing to be honest about it, then I wouldn’t have had a chance to express the truth.”
Queen noticed Marianne hanging around to have a word with him. And she was surely exotic enough in her Iranian and Pakistani mix to attract the man. But while dressed in her college gear of a multi-colored, tie-dyed t-shirt and basic blue jeans, she didn’t look his professional match.
Yeah, she got the hots for him, Queen assumed of her classmate. She’s just being nosy trying to see what he’s saying to me.
Dr. Blake said, “With a name like Queen, I would imagine that you would think more about the motherland.”
She grinned at it. “No, it’s just a name that my mother gave me. And what motherland do you claim if your heritage is from so many different places?” she asked him.
He grinned. “Actually, there’s only one Eve, the mother of us all, and she was found in Africa.”
Overhearing them talk about Africa, Marianne gave Queen a look and adjusted her stance.
Oh my God, is he fucking her? Is that a territorial look? Queen wondered, reading her classmate’s eye and body language.
She was tempted to test her hunch by laying a strategic hand on Dr. Blake’s arm. And she did it anyway, almost involuntarily.
“I love men who can teach me something,” she commented loud enough to hear.
And boy did the claws come out from Marianne’s stare. She looked ready to jump in and claw Queen’s face to suck up her own attention from the tall, enticing instructor.
Well, if he’s not nailing her Middle Eastern pussy yet, then he sure needs to be. Damn! Queen contemplated. She acts like her shit is microwaveable and ready to eat in three seconds.
Dr. Blake seemed oblivious to the gamesmanship and was unaware of the young woman in waiting behind him.
Finally, Queen let him on to it. “Well, it looks like someone needs to talk to you, so let me go ahead and go.”
Dr. Blake looked back and caught Marianne’s quick smile. It was territorial indeed.
“You’re gonna get something to eat?” she asked him quickly.
Queen waited there to hear his response.
“Yes, of course,” he answered. And there was no shame to his game. They were all grown folks in the room.
Queen smiled at him and turned to walk out.
“I’ll see you next class,” he said to her back.
She gave him no response, but her message was clear in her strut as she departed. She walked out of the room furious. Even though she had gone out of her way to gain Blake’s attention with her business style of dress, the Iranian-Pakistani had won his favor . . . for the moment.
“Yeah, he just fucked up his chance with me,” Queen grumbled under her breath. “Gon’ try to act like he don’t know the woman. Then gonna say yes to dinner right in my damn face.
“Yeah, I see how he plays,” she fumed.
She was so incensed by the slight that she called Bryant back to cool off.
“Oh, shit, you called me back.”
Oh, just shut the fuck up! she wanted to tell him. But she forced herself to pause and keep silent before she exploded with her raw emotions. She took a deep breath instead, exhaled it, and ca
lmly asked him, “Are you ready?”
“No, the question is, are you ready?” he asked her back.
His every word was now irritating her. He sounded like such a damn loser. Queen even held the phone away from her ear with an outstretched arm to keep herself from sounding the bitch alarm on him. She could feel it coming.
“Yeah, just come meet me at the Olive Garden off of six-ninety-five,” she told him. “I’m getting in my car now.”
“Okay, good choice. They got great bread and salad.”
Finally, he said something that she could smile about. “Yeah, they do.”
But as soon as she climbed into her car, Dr. Antigua and Ms. Middle Eastern walked across campus in plain view. They were smiling and laughing and doing everything short of holding hands.
“Shit!” Queen cursed them through her windshield. “Why do I even care?” she asked herself. “She can have that nigga’s gray balls. Fuck him! Mr. Diversity. He don’t even know what he is.”
And she drove out of parking, fuming again.
FFFFFFFFFFFFFFF
By the time she arrived at Olive Garden, Queen had moved on from her jealous rage. She felt ridiculous about the whole fiasco.
“That was just my natural competition coming out. That was all it was,” she convinced herself. “It was just Baltimore instincts.”
She flipped down the vanity mirror and checked her face, fixing her lip gloss, blush and hair while waiting for Bryant to arrive.
When he pulled up and hopped out of his car wearing shorts, she found hers smile again.
“Nice legs,” she mentioned, climbing out of her car to join him. His legs were firm and muscled with only a touch of hair. She figured a younger man was much better than an old guy anyway.
“You haven’t even bothered to see ’em for awhile,” Bryant teased her. He then eyed her business suit. “But look at you. What, you had interview earlier today?”
“No, I just woke up this morning and felt like looking professional,” she told him. She took his hand in hers and led him toward the restaurant entrance.
Bryant took note of it and commented immediately.
“Okay, now you wanna get all cuddly after you iced me for a couple of months.”
He refused to let her off the hook for her disappearing acts.
“I told you, I had to get myself readjusted for school.”
“Bullshit, you wasn’t even in school yet. That’s the part I can’t understand. You make a brother feel all good and then you start playing dodge ball with him.”
She continued to avoid his insinuations. But he kept her smile in place as they walked into the dimly lit, stone and garden decorated restaurant. Once they were seated in a cozy booth next to the window, Queen prepared herself for confessions.
Eying Bryant across the table, she was pleased that the man still looked good, very good.
Maybe this can work out after all, she mused. Why do I always have to fall the hard way? Just let things be sweet for a change.
She reached her hands across the table for his. Bryant took her hands with a slight hesitation and frowned.
“What’s all this about?” After so many weeks of cold, busy shoulders, he was confused by her sudden showing of over-the-top affection.
Taking a deep breath, Queen prepared to clear the air with him.
“I wanna apologize for treating you like that, but I didn’t know how you were gonna act after that night at the movies.”
Bryant stared at her. “You thought I was gonna dog you out, didn’t you? I knew you were thinking that. I just didn’t bring it up to you.”
“Well, why not?”
“Because I kept hoping that it was something else.”
“So, you let this go on for this long because you didn’t wanna say anything about it?”
“No, you let it go on for this long. You could have said that to me a long time ago.”
“I was embarrassed. I didn’t plan to do that so early.”
“Well, you were talking it. You shouldn’t have been talking about it then.”
“Yeah, but you were acting like you were gonna die if you didn’t get none that night.”
“No I wasn’t. But you started talking about ‘good pussy’ over and over again. And I just wanted to go to the damn movies.”
The waitress walked up as Bryant ranted, but Queen liked his tone. The man was showing her some balls of his own, and young ones.
“Ahhh, are you guys ready to order?” the short, brown-haired waitress asked them carefully.
“Yeah, we’re ready,” Queen told her with a grin.
They placed their orders and returned to their heated conversation once she had left.
“So, you thought I was gonna act like an asshole because you gave me some, right?”
She looked at him all innocently. “Well . . . ?”
“Well, I’m still here, ain’t I? If I wanted to dog you out, I would have stopped calling you after two weeks.”
“Oh, is that your time limit?”
“Shorter than that if I’m not feeling you.”
Queen was enjoying every second of their discourse. Wow, he does have some backbone, she thought. But had more tests to pass.
She asked him, “How do I know you weren’t seeing someone else on the side?”
He shocked the hell out of her when he answered, “Could you blame me? I mean, we’re talking about a couple of months.”
She was reluctant to follow up with the obvious question, but she pressed on with it.
“So, did you?”
He smiled. “Naw. And don’t tell nobody this, but-” He leaned across the table, close enough to whisper. “I thought about you and used my hands a lot.” Then he leaned back into his seat and chuckled. “But I washed them to eat though.”
Queen broke out laughing, hiding her face in her opened palms to cover her embarrassment. She didn’t really believe him, but he had caught her off guard with it. Maybe he had screwed his hands a few times, but she doubted he had gone a few months without poking another woman. The man looked too good to believe that, and she realized that he had been spoiled. Nevertheless, his answer was clever enough to gain her respect and tighten her rib cage.
“Whatever,” she told him.
“But we need to have a part two tonight,” he declared forcefully. “These hands have had enough.”
The man had her open good. Queen kept smiling, feeling bubbly inside. She couldn’t even tease him back without grinning.
“See, you waited all this time just to get at me again.”
She attempted to look serious and disappointed with him, but the rise of her cheeks and the curl of her lips gave her amusement away.
Bryant answered, “Yup. Like you said, you got that good pussy. And I don’t mean to be rude over the table, but these are your words.”
The time spent away from her made him a lot bolder in approach. Hell, he slightly still angry about the whole thing.
Queen grinned her ass off, thinking, Who is this new man? Oh, he’s gonna get some pussy tonight for this. But he’s gonna have to eat it too. I’m gonna put a damn leg lock around his neck and run my fingers through his hair while he goes to work. Then we’ll see if he makes jokes about that.
She couldn’t even concentrate on the food she had ordered. She only toyed with it before asking for a box to go and ordering a tasty Key Lime pie for dessert.
“You’re not hungry?” Bryant asked her. He was devouring his plate of food as usual. She watched him in awe, thinking about how much cooking she would have to do as his wife.
He must have a fat-ass mother, the way he eats, she imagined. And I guess we need to meet each other’s families now.
She ignored his question, still contemplating their second roll in the hay. All she could think about was getting the pretty man home to her bedroom and fucking his face.
This is crazy! she thought. I spend all this time avoiding him to get him where I want him, and as soon as we go out to
eat again, he gets me all wet under the table.
Shit! she cursed. It’s too late to stop it now. He already has me hot.
“What are you thinking about over there?” Bryant asked her. “You’re not as talkative tonight. And don’t tell me you got more school work on your mind.”
“No . . . it’s not that.”
He wiped lasagna sauce from his mouth and grinned at her.
“You thinking about us?”
“What about?”
He eyed her across the table deviously. “You know what about. Don’t play games with me. I haven’t been with you in months. And now I’m mad.”
She had to compose herself to stop from giving up the whole game, but she was delighted she’d decided to call him back.
And just think, I owe it all to Dr. Blake and his missy for pissing me off like that after class.
The truth was, even though she considered Bryant marriage material, his lack of confidence, swagger and bedroom energy had turned her off. And the fact that he called her several times a week to talk made her less curious about him. But if he had played his cards right, with more important things to do and other women to see, Queen’s ice treatment may have lasted no longer than a week. Nevertheless, the ice had thawed now, and it was time to get back down to business.
FFFFFFFFFFFFFFF
“I don’t really do that,” Bryant told Queen, shaking his head inside of her bedroom.
“Well, you’re gonna have to learn,” she told him.
They were butt naked on her bed with only candles providing subdued light. Bryant glanced aimlessly at the various framed prints of African-American artwork that covered her walls around the room, stalling. He and Queen had already done enough foreplay for whatever was to come next, and she was adamant that he learn what he needed to do please her.
“Or what?” he asked her.
Okay, enough with his tough talk, she told herself. I can play that way too.
“Or it’ll be another couple of months before you touch me again.”
He heard that and started chuckling. “I don’t see you doing me.”