Finally, James, the running back, secured a touchdown. Patches almost lost control because he was so excited. He was smiling so hard, you would have thought he was doing a toothpaste commercial. He was happy because they were winning by one touchdown.
Finally, they were in the last quarter and had only two minutes left to play. If the team continued to carry the football down the field while allowing the clock to run out, this game would be over and they would be the champs. As the quarterback reared back to find a target to throw the ball, he spotted Cecil, one of the fastest running backs in the city, and made immediate contact. The people in the stand were on their feet, screaming, “Run, Cecil! Run!” Patches stood up and watched. He couldn’t move. His feet felt like lead, too heavy to move. Just as they won, he looked up and saw Stacey. She was a local reporter and she was gorgeous. He smiled at her and ran over to congratulate the players. They all headed to the locker room.
“You boys played a great game. Great job! What did I tell you all? Practice! Practice and play ball, and the feeling you get is beautiful, just beautiful. Teamwork makes great plays. I’m so happy I could kiss all ya’ll. Shower and celebrate, but do it safe,” he said as he walked away, doing a little happy dance.
“Coach, how you gonna play that?” asked Rodney, the quarterback.
“I’m ’a play like you play at home in the bed. Got that young boy?”
“Yeah, I got it like that,” Rodney said as he gave his teammate a dap.
“Be safe, brothers. The assistant coaches are going back to the school with you. As I told you all earlier, I have something to do and I will see you guys on Monday. I’m out.” Patches walked out of the stadium and bumped into the reporter.
“Hi, I’m Stacey,” she said, reaching out to shake his hand.
Looking at her as if he could take her and lick her like a Popsicle, he smiled and took her hand. “I know who you are.”
“You want to get together tonight?” she asked with a sexy look that penetrated his heart and made his penis feel a slow rise.
“Your place or mine?” asked Patches afraid that he was being played.
“Mine, of course.” She took him by the hand and asked, “Where’s your car?”
She followed him and asked Patches to take her to her car, parked by the Embassy Suites Hotel. They said little while they rode. He was scared to say something, fearing that she might change her mind. Stacy sat quietly hoping he wouldn’t say anything to make her change her mind. She had seen him at many of the games while on assignment as a general reporter. Not ready for a serious relationship, she just wanted to taste his sweetness with her moist tongue.
When they reached her car, she whispered, “Follow me.”
How lucky could a brother get? This girl was beautiful; she had long thick hair that hung down her back, with cinnamon colored skin that was as smooth as a Lexus rolling down the street. He saw her nightly on TV. Damn! How lucky could one man be? Patches thought again to himself.
At her apartment, he barely looked around at his surroundings. They weren’t important, anyway. He wanted to feel her body on his before the mood changed. Stacey went into the bathroom and turned on the shower. Calling Patches to the shower he stripped out of his clothes and entered. She was absolutely gorgeous, with flawless skin. He took the soap and created suds all over her body. He grabbed her and hungrily kissed her. She kissed him back, and then they did the famous dance. He kissed every part of her body as she moaned and arched her back toward the wall.
He wanted badly to penetrate her incredible body but didn’t have any protection in the shower. So instead, he dropped to his knees and began the act of draining out her warm vagina juices by first sucking and then licking and lightly thrusting his tongue in her hidden area. She was gorgeous and he couldn’t believe that he was having this opportunity to be this intimate with one of the most coveted reporters in the St. Louis area.
Finally, they moved to the bedroom. She was breathless, almost weak. He lifted her up into his arms and carried her to the bed, laid her down gently on her back and finished feasting on her weak and satisfied body. He felt her heart race and her moans increase, and slowly he reached for his pants and took out a condom. Sliding it on he entered her slowly as if he never wanted it to end, thinking that nobody would believe that he was with Stacey. He thrust her eagerly. It felt so good. They rocked and rolled until both were sweaty with stimulation. Stacey was raking her nails down his back, panting and moaning. She was sucking on his earlobe and moving her hips in a figure eight form. He was trying to hold back but it felt so good between her legs. She grabbed his butt, squeezed the cheeks together, and whimpered, “I’m coming.” He could feel the heat of her body as her heart raced, she screamed again that she was having multiple orgasms and he could not hold himself any longer, he let himself explode.
“Damn! Damn! Damn!” he moaned.
“That was so good,” Stacey whispered.
Patches lay back ready to enjoy the rest of the night when suddenly Stacey thanked him for the great sex and asked him to leave. This shocked him. How could a woman this fine seek him out, fuck him into illusions, and then say you can leave? he thought. Those were his damn words. This was fucking unbelievable.
“What do you mean, I can leave?”
“I’m finished with you. Get your clothes on and forget my address and name.” Stacey stood up, handed him his clothes, and dared him with an evil look in her eyes not to make another move unless it was out her door.
Patches slid into his pants, put on his shirt and shoes and asked, “Stacey did I do something wrong?”
“Leave now,” she hissed with a somewhat raised voice. “No questions just leave my house.”
“This shit is unbelievable. You fuck my brains and common sense out of my damn head and then you send me on my way. What kind of trick are you?”
“The same kind you are. Leave now before I call the cops.”
“Fuck you bitch!” Patches walked out the door feeling used and dirty. He was used to getting any woman that he wanted, but millions watched this beautiful lady daily and she was a damn whore. She picked up men from games and probably bars too, and then she rode their dicks into oblivion just to send them packing. He laughed as he walked to his car. Turning to her, he screamed, “You fucking freak!”
“Takes one to fuck one,” she said, right before she slammed and doubled locked the door. “Forget you ever met me.”
This was an unusual event for Patches. Women never sent him packing. After all, he had something else planned tonight. He didn’t have to be with her. He was the one that was always finding vulnerable women that he could fuck one night and come back to months later to tap that ass again for old time’s sake. Things didn’t happen like that to him. After all, he was Patches. He was extremely handsome, about five feet eight inches tall, and had a very muscular and tight body. He had gorgeous hazel eyes and the prettiest teeth that sort of beckoned you to kiss his smooth, lovable lips. He was also noted for his tight butt, because it was the perfect size for grabbing and holding. Patches knew that he was good looking and used his appearance to bed as many women as he could find. Single, his motto was “If you are sexy and fine, you could be mine, all mine.” He lived up to his word.
His friends in the backroom could not understand the hold he seemed to have on women. Once he bedded them, they always came back for more. This intrigued more than his clique; Jerickca was beginning to notice how attractive he was. Especially since the meeting she had had with two of her employees who cried on her shoulders about his sexual abilities and how they couldn’t get over him. What did he do to those women? she thought.
It was hard for Patches to pass a mirror without admiring himself. Patches was impressed with the face that stared back at him. As he would primp in the mirror, he always smiled. He couldn't believe the reflection that stared back at him. Sometimes Patches couldn't stand himself because he was so fine. He had the biggest broad shoulders that Jerickca had seen in
a long time. Short in stature but a real good looker, he thought to himself with a smile as he prepared himself to meet Ms. Parker.
As he checked his appearance before going on his interview, he felt proud of himself. He looked great in his black Cerretti suit and white tuxedo, Van Heusan shirt, looking like he was one of the most popular African-American male models on the cover of GQ magazine. Patches said out loud, “Tyson don't have a thing on me.” He felt satisfied. Patches was on cloud nine, because finally he was doing something with his life that made him feel good. “No,” he said, “I feel damn good. Shit! How you like me now, dog?” He said it as if he were talking to someone in the room.
But he was alone. Yet, he was not really alone, because as an only child, he loved having time to himself; this was the way he found his peace away from all the woman he was dating.
Patches brushed the imaginary lint off his suit. He brushed from the front of his thighs down toward the knee. He did this on both sides, from left to right, finally turning to admire his backside. Checking to make sure that his black snakeskin boots completed his outfit, he lifted his leg to brush away any hint of dust from the hem of his pants. He felt and looked great. Patches was fine. He knew this all along. After all, even if he didn't think he was fine, someone else would surely tell him. They always did. Wherever Patches went, he was always noticed by the women and by all the jealous men who hated him. They didn't really hate him but they hated the fact that when he was in the room with them, he was the main attraction. The men around him would fade into the background like dreary paint hidden behind gorgeous wallpaper.
McNary was his given name, but everyone in his family called him Patches. McNary McAfee always stood out. When he was born, his mother looked at his light hazel eyes and wavy, dark, sandy hair and whispered, “You are going to break the women's hearts.” She named him McNary after his dad, who was even better looking. His mother, Sinclair, nicknamed him Patches because once she told his dad, McNary McAfee Sr., that she was pregnant with his first child, he returned home immediately.
McNary Sr. had left his expecting wife for another woman. He told her he was just tired of the riffraff. No longer interested in Sinclair, he left their home with her best friend, CeCelia. He never called or visited her again until three months later, when she located him to tell him about her condition.
McNary Sr. had felt trapped in an unhappy marriage until he found out his wife was pregnant. He wanted a son so much that he decided to make his marriage work. McNary Jr.’s birth patched their troubled marriage back together, and they never broke up or separated again. Sinclair loved Patches because his premature entry into the world sealed her love for her husband, and she forgave him for running off with her old friend.
Patches was her love child, a child that she had wanted with all her heart, with or without the father. So whatever Patches wanted, he got. No matter what he did wrong, he was forgiven. From the time he was a small baby to when he became a grown man, Patches had the world in his hands, but all he wanted were the women.
After all, he was a ladies’ man, only thinking about what he could gain and not how he had left each of his women broken-hearted and searching for love. The women he dated were supposed to be self-respecting and educated, and they couldn’t pick out a scam artist if you pointed him out and walked up to his face. They were naïve and unsuspecting young women who he left clinging, crying, and pleading for one more chance to show him how much they loved him.
His intentions weren’t to leave them broken-hearted and broken up, but he wanted to get his groove on. After all, didn't statisticians report that there were at least ten women for every man? Well, Patches wanted all of his ten, and he got them. He got them all, “by any means necessary.” He didn't mean to leave them hurt. He just thought that he could bang them and leave. They were the ones who paged him all through the night, begging him to come back.
In most cases, he was even truthful with them, explaining to them that he didn't want a serious relationship, but the women thought that with the twitch of their ass and the wiggle of their hips, would keep him coming back to them. Many of his conquests felt they could change him to become the marrying type. But after every hit of sexual activity, it made him care less for them. There just weren’t any challenges with most women. Most were so desperate for a good, employed man they would do anything to please. Clothes, dinners, watches, and other gifts of affections were just a small sample of what those loved-starved women would give to be cradled one night in the arms of a good-looking, single, successful man.
To top it off, he didn't have any responsibilities of children, because he always wore protection. He made sure that no woman would be able to pin an unwanted pregnancy on him. Patches was cautious. One thing he would never do was to mess with another man's wife. It wasn't worth the nuisance. He was a lover, not a fighter.
Patches was a ladies’ man, with one positive thing going for him: he was an educated and hard-working social worker. His job was serious business to him. He would never consider doing anything to jeopardize it, especially dating a client. He didn’t care if they had a perfect twenty-four lead crystal ass—he would never jeopardize his professional ethics to look at a client as anything but a person who needed his help to find resources and assistance to change their life for the better.
His decision to change jobs was because he had made one mistake, and that was to date his co-worker, Pauline. His mother, Sinclair, had warned him never to sleep where he made his bread. But he didn’t listen, and now Pauline was spending more company time harassing his ass than earning her pay. She was a good lay but was overbearing and possessive. He couldn’t look at another woman without her asking if he needed another neck, because she felt he was stretching the one he had to its limit watching every butt that passed. The only neck he felt he needed was to be at least one hundred miles from her stupid ass. He needed another job as bad as his next lay, and when Mr. Aaron, a friend he had met, told him about a new program he should look into, he immediately upgraded his resume and sent it to Ms. Jerickca Parker.
Chapter 5
Diane picked up the phone to call her daughter. She was getting tired of Denver acting as if she didn’t have a problem or concern. She wanted Denver to stand on her own two feet and to feel comfortable deciding to do just that, while continuing to pursue her dreams.
“Hello Mom,” said Denver.
“I haven’t heard from you in a while. What’s going on with you? I sent the application for law school. Did you fill out the paperwork?” Diane rushed through her conversation, afraid she wouldn’t be able to get everything in before she made her daughter angry.
“Not yet, Mom. I haven’t had the time. I’ve been writing a grant and trying to find a better paying job.”
“Why are you even wasting your time looking for a job? I told you that I would pay your tuition, room, and board. So just complete that application package and mail it today.”
“Yes, Ma’am. I’ll take care of it today.”
Denver hated when her mama made her feel so inadequate. She wanted to please her but was slowly trying to find the courage to go against her strong-willed mother. Her mother was very aggressive. She did everything in her power to achieve at the highest level and wanted her daughter to do the same. But Denver had other plans that she was too afraid to share. She wanted to be the life of the party but she was considered “too weak and meek” by her co-workers. She was seen as a person who lacked good communications skills and had difficulty explaining complex information, even though she could process complicated data.
She was of medium height and wore a size ten dress. She was very attractive and most men wanted her simply because she was light skinned, or redbone, as they would call her. Her complexion was about three shades lighter than caramel candy and her hair was jet black, worn daily in a feathered bob. She dressed unprofessionally and only wore suits on special occasions. While Friday was the scheduled casual day, every day was casual for her.
Denver was single, freely dating one married man, and enjoying every single minute she could get to see him. She was suffering from low self-esteem and an uncertainty about who she was and about her relationship with Latham Donovan, a businessman who traveled frequently as a buyer of retail products. Denver had made the ultimate mistake of falling in love with a married man. Even though deep down inside she knew that she would never truly have him, she didn’t care, because being with him was better than being without a man.
She could be fun to be around once you got to know her and she felt comfortable with you. But most of the time, she was a major pushover. She would do anything for others, even when it meant sacrificing her beliefs and values. She couldn’t say no to anyone. She spent most of her time trying desperately to fit in, to please others. Inwardly, she was not a happy person, because every ounce of her strength was used trying to make sure that no one was angry or disappointed by her endeavors. Denver was too soft-spoken and had a very meek voice. She was not a great communicator, and she spoke in a low tone that showed everyone in listening range that she lacked confidence in herself and her abilities. Her vocal tone was monotonous and dry.
Backroom Confessions Page 3