Who's That Lady?

by Andrea Jackson

  When he asked her to dance she agreed with enthusiasm. He led her out to the raised, gleaming black dance floor in the middle of the room. At the end of that song they headed back to the table, but before she could sit down, the young white guy asked her to dance. After that she barely left the dance floor. When she wasn’t on it, she stood in one of the aisles between tables, rocking to the beat like a lot of other people.

  Finally the rap artist was introduced. He and some backup dancers bounded onto the small stage and the audience went wild, surging to their feet with a roar of approval.

  While music pounded a compelling undercurrent, the young man’s rough voice growled, demanded, confronted and worked the crowd. She was soon responding as raucously as anyone else. Everything seemed a little surreal. She had no idea why, but she got in a yelling match with a young girl over some man while a small crowd egged them both on.

  Key dragged her out of the crowd before things got physical. “Let it go, Shortcake,” he said in a soothing voice.

  She tried to pull her wrist free of his grasp. “But she called me a fat ‘ho’!” she complained. “Greased up ghetto girl can’t even speak Ebonics,” she added.

  “Just let it go.” He kept pulling her.

  Crystal relented but yelled a parting shot. “If you spent as much time in school as you did in the beauty shop, maybe you could talk English. At least you wouldn’t’ve wasted so much money!”

  The girl came at her screaming and clawing, shiny ponytail swinging. Crystal would have stood her ground, but Key picked her up by the waist and swung her around him. “Let it go, I said!” He pushed her toward another part of the club.

  “But she took my partner. I wan’ dance.”

  “Who were you dancing with?”

  Crystal put her hands on both sides of her head to steady the room and peered at the men nearby. “Don’ know,” she admitted after a short pause.

  Key broke up laughing. “Okay, it’s time to go. Definitely.”

  “But I wan’ dance,” she wailed. She threw her arms around his neck and wiggled her hips against him. “Ooh. Like that.” She grinned at him.

  Key eased back a few steps. “We’ll dance at home.”

  A blast of cold air outside made her gasp and choke. She registered that Key was annoyed with her for some reason; then he was pushing her into the back of a vehicle. When it moved they both began to sing, “Get on boarrrrd little children/Get on boarrrrrd little children/Get on boarrrrd little children/There’s room for many mooorrrre” at the top of their lungs until someone told them to shut up or get out. She must have dozed off for a short while after that because the next thing she knew, Key was dragging her from the car while trying not to stumble himself.

  She stood upright and looked around.

  “Hey. Thish not yo’ car.”

  “It’s a cab,” he explained, pronouncing each word with care. “I’m in no condition to drive.”

  Swaying, Crystal peered up into his face. “You drunk, Key Emerson?” she demanded suspiciously.

  That cracked him up for some reason. They were both laughing helplessly when they stumbled up the stairs and into Key’s apartment.

  “Hey.” Crystal looked around the room, which was decorated in black and cream. An oversized entertainment center housing an enormous television screen dominated the room.

  “Thish—” She paused and made a conscious effort to speak clearly. “This is not my house.”

  That had them collapsing on the soft cushions of the couch, cackling hilariously and holding onto each other.

  They leaned back against the cushions, eyes closed, in a long, companionable silence.

  Rational thought began to meander back into her brain. “Shonté sh’ be home by now,” she commented with a sigh.

  “Nope, none of that. You’re completely off duty tonight,” he said.

  She let the thought drift away. It was kind of nice to let go. She usually did the “mothering.” It was so good to be with Key. Of course she was half drunk. She smothered a weak giggle. She had laughed so much tonight that her stomach hurt.

  She might have dozed off again, but was awakened when Key struggled to his feet.

  “Ow, ow, ow,” he muttered, limping across the room.

  “Wha-wha’s wrong?” she asked mildly alarmed.

  “Little boy’s room.”

  He vanished down the hallway and she sank back into a half stupor. But when he returned, still limping slightly, she was instantly solicitous.

  “Your bur-shitis—” she hiccupped. “Bur-si-tis botherin’ you? Lem’ see.”

  “I took some meds. Should kick in soon. And it’s tendonitis,” he corrected as he sat back down beside her.

  “Tha’s what I said,” she muttered, confused.

  “You said bursitis. Bursitis is for old folks.”

  “And?”

  He laughed. She wasn’t sure what it was about but relaxed back into easy silence. He extended his leg, propping his foot on the coffee table, and she began to massage the affected knee. He sank into the couch in contentment, closing his eyes in sleepy enjoyment.

  Since Key’s injury, she had grown skillful at home treatment on the infrequent occasions when his knee bothered him. Ice packs and rest did the trick most of the time, along with some gentle massage.

  “You are so good at this. I should marry you, Shortcake,” Key murmured.

  She tilted her head to one side, trying to bring his face into focus. Things were still a little fuzzy. “Love you, too, baby,” she purred.

  He grinned. “You don’t mean it. But it still feels damn good. I haven’t had a good rubdown in a long time.”

  “‘Course I love you. You’re m’ bes’ friend.”

  She continued to rub his knee and thigh muscles. Feeling sleepy, she laid her head onto his chest, hearing the slow hum of his breathing, feeling his arm draped over her shoulder.

  “Hey, Key?”

  “Yeah?”

  “You really doing that abstinence thing?”

  “Yeah. Why?”

  “Just wondered.”

  She stroked his leg more slowly, her eyes closed. Poor Key. No woman to touch him. No one to feel his strong hands on her body, the way he was rubbing her arm.

  She caressed his thigh, snuggling against him to a more comfortable position. Her head was on his stomach now. He sighed and the rhythm of his hand on her arm changed. His thumb brushed the side of her breast in a way that awakened a response below the buzz of alcohol high. Key—her rock, her delight. She purred and arched her body to increase the pressure of his hand against her breast.

  Just above her head, she heard a quick inhalation of breath.

  “Ah, Shortcake baby, what you doing to me?” he asked with a shaky laugh.

  And through the hazy fog in her brain, she became aware of the thickness between his legs so close to her cheek. Without opening her eyes, she smiled and deliberately rubbed her cheek against the bulge. With a gentle moan, Key spread his legs.

  She was swept with a desire to sink deeper into his warmth, experience more of the sensuality. She absorbed the uneven rhythm of his breathing, the solid warmth of his thigh under her hand. Her blood surged and ebbed with the rhythm of his heartbeat, the scent of his clothes and of him.

  His stomach next to her ear rumbled as he cleared his throat.

  “Taylor, I think you’d better quit now.” His voice came out hesitant and husky.

  Crystal was puzzled for a moment; then her breath caught with understanding. She lifted her head to stare at him. His expression was longing, regretful. And she knew she didn’t want to stop this—this thing that was building. Her and Key. Alone. Together.

  “But,” her voice came out a whisper, “I like it.” She reached her hand tentatively toward his groin and the hidden power there that called to her with spellbinding appeal.

  Key cleared his throat again, a harsh bark, and snatched his hand back from her arm. “Me, too. A little too much.” He spoke th
rough clenched jaws.

  She moved her hand again on his jean-clad thigh, up tantalizingly close to his manhood, spreading her fingers with slow enjoyment.

  “Then why should we stop?” she spoke boldly. Her head was buzzing, whether from alcohol or excitement she didn’t know, didn’t care. It had been so long since she’d been with a man and this felt so good. This was Key, and he was all hers at the moment.

  “I know there’s a damn good reason why we shouldn’t,” he whispered.

  “Name one.”

  He half groaned and half laughed, dropping his head back onto the couch cushion, thrusting his pelvis against her hand. “Baby, right now I can’t think of my own damn name.”

  Some dark, deep, un-drunk part of Crystal’s mind shouted a warning that she’d regret this, that it was crazy. But she didn’t want to listen to that part. She burned for Key at the moment. She wanted to belong to him totally, to give in to every urge she’d ever repressed. This one night she was going to let go.

  Crystal swung herself upright and straddled his lap. Key relaxed back, his eyes half-shut, grinning at her like some eager puppy. She began to unbutton his shirt. It was extremely soft. But not as soft as the dark skin beneath. The expanse of velvety skin captivated her avid gaze. She let her hands slide over his bulging shoulder muscles, traced a pulsing vein’s path from his neck down over his well-defined pecs into where it vanished in a mat of chest hair. She marveled that his anatomy could be so like hers and yet so unlike. Where she was soft and brown, he was hard and chocolatey. Where she was rounded, he was sculpted. Where she was smooth, he was feathered with whorls of hair. The exquisite miracle of his body almost brought tears to her eyes. Tenderly stroking him, Crystal felt as if she’d stepped into another world in which every nerve in her body pulsated with desire. She wanted to devour every ounce of him.

  His chest heaved in great, irregular tremors. She drew the shirt open further to reveal the ripples of flesh banding his taut stomach. She dragged her hands downward, then spread her fingers to play with the ridges marking his ribs. Smooth skin, feverish to her touch. She closed her eyes to allow her other senses to savor the sensations while she stroked him up and down, inhaling the intoxicating scent of his body. She absorbed the heat building between her splayed legs, relished the sweet, hot breath against her face as he skimmed kisses across her cheek and throat.

  Rough fuzz tantalized her palms as she swept her hands over his chest. Her fingers discovered the pebbly nubs of his nipples and she opened her eyes again to scrutinize with longing greed the nearly black aureoles surrounding each straining peak. Hot sweet coffee. The image drew her to taste it. In dreamlike slowness, she lowered her head, feeling her breath spread hot on his breast, opening her mouth wide to take in as much of his flesh as she could savor while the bud prodded her tongue like a sweet hard candy.

  She was so engrossed in the pleasure of suckling him that it was moments before she became aware of the commotion swirling around and under her. Key’s entire body bucked and shuddered beneath her. His hands were everywhere on her, ripping at her clothes, squeezing her skin, all the while tugging her even tighter against him. His strained voice babbled, pleaded and demanded without words.

  His excitement abruptly pushed her over the edge. Crystal shattered right there on his lap, shuddering and screaming and digging her nails into his naked shoulders. When awareness returned, she saw him staring at her open-mouthed. She could only stare back as her breath hitched and her heartbeat slammed so loudly he must hear it.

  He gave a shout of laughter and squeezed both hands on her buttocks to lift her closer against him, grinding on her wet center. Crystal spread her thighs wider, ravenous with need for him. They both went into a frenzy to get each other’s clothes off.

  The shock of skin to skin brought a gasp of sheer exhilaration. She felt herself falling, falling through clouds of psychic chaos. She tightened her arms around his shoulders. He was the only thing real in the universe of swirling mayhem.

  Oh, yes! The abrasion of his chest against her breasts and the slickness of his mouth trailing across her face combined to propel her to a second orgasm while he molded her body to fit with his. Somebody was moaning. Or maybe the universe was moaning with jealousy, she decided, when his hands cupped her buttocks through the fabric of her panties, kneading, rubbing and pressing.

  His hands were big and strong, yet gentle. She loved what they were doing to her. Oh, God, how long had it been since she’d had a man’s hands on her butt like that? She let her head fall back and moaned with the sheer ecstasy of it.

  “Oh, yeah, oh baby,” he whispered. His hands scrambled to get inside her panties, where he stroked the wet vee of her femininity and almost drove her to distraction. The world tilted and she found herself on her back, being eased to the floor in front of the couch. His big body hovered over her. His mouth alternated kisses on her throat, her breasts and her shoulders, while his fingers searched for and found the core of her pleasure. She was hot, wet and swollen, ready. So very ready for him. And still he tortured her with his touch.

  She plunged her hands between their bodies to capture the prize she sought. With his shaft throbbing in her trembling hands, she let her fingertips barely brush the fine hairs on the swelling below it. His hips heaved, as if he were holding himself in check only with colossal effort. She watched his face contort into lip-biting torment. She closed her hands on his shaft with a gentle pressure and his entire body shuddered.

  His kisses burned their way down the side of her neck with little nips of his teeth and lips. As last he fastened his teeth on one nipple while his fingers massaged the other. Air whistled in and out of her lungs in tortured gasps, and her legs pushed apart to find the most comfortable position to take his weight. She was vaguely aware he was using his hands to protect her from the floor even as he thrust his body against hers in near demented movement.

  Crystal bowed her head, awed by the sleek power of those hips and thighs held in check over her. She caressed his muscular back and his firm buttocks to urge him on. Her reward came when he buried himself inside her with one plunge. Sweet, hot waves of rapture drove through her as she took him in, gripped his length in a velvet casing of pure delight.

  She no longer knew which of them the sobs were coming from and she didn’t care. All she knew was that this was perfect, even better than she had ever imagined it could be.

  “Crystal,” he gasped. “Oh, Crystal, I can’t stop. So good.”

  He drove into her time and again until she spasmed in climax, burrowing her mouth into his chest to muffle her cries of pleasure. With a shout, Key spewed his seed into her.

  When he immediately slid free of her, she whimpered in protest, grabbing him in reflex. Only then did her brain finally transmit that the sharp noises he was making now weren’t exactly happy.

  He was groaning something like, “Woo, woo, woo, knees, leg, cramp, hurts. Owwww!”

  Alarmed, she tried to ease out of the complicated entanglement of their bodies. Now she was aware of not only his jerky movements, but also of her discomforts: the heaviness of his body on hers, his elbow jabbing her rib, the awkward angle of her head jammed up against the side of the couch and the scratchiness of the carpet under her. Her brain clanged with half-registered alarms. Awkwardly, they helped one another to their feet.

  “Oh, sweetie, I’m sorry!” she cried, reaching for his leg. Pained remorse edged out her satisfaction, while some bigger dismay churned around the edges of her consciousness. Something big was not right about all this. If she could have a single minute to get her head together she might be able to think, but all she could focus on right now, with foggy tenacity, was getting Key off his bad leg.

  She wrapped her arms around his sweat-slickened chest, trying to support him as he hopped and skipped about her.

  “What should I—?” she began, when his kiss cut her off. Her mouth opened to take all of his tongue and her head swirled with reawakened desires.

 
; “Bed,” he mouthed against her teeth.

  CHAPTER 5

  Crystal awakened to the velvety steel shaft of manhood pressing against the back of her thighs. Even before she came fully awake, her body recognized Key at some elemental level: the texture of his skin, the smell of his body, the rhythm of his heartbeat. She gasped with the realization that this was no erotic dream. She was in Key’s bed and he was plastered against her body in a sweaty, sticky, gloppy joining. And they were both stark naked without even a sheet over them. It should have been nasty. But it wasn’t. Oh, God, it wasn’t.

  Crystal lay in rigid denial, trying to come to grips with what must have happened. The room was dark and silent, except for the whish, whish of the ceiling fan cooling them. Key’s arm lay across her chest while one knee was drawn up over her hip. She tried not to even breathe, afraid of waking Key. But his breathing continued in a regular gentle rattle and his body was completely limp—except for that part. Could he sleep like that? She suppressed a hysterical urge to giggle.

  She struggled to contain it, but the giggle shook her body. She made a furtive move to ease away from Key. He growled sleepily and held her tighter.

  What was she supposed to do now? She squeezed her eyes shut in panic. This isn’t happening! No way, not to bland, predictable Crystal Taylor. This had to be some kind of wild dream. This was insane.

  She eased her eyes open again. Maybe she was dreaming. Hesitantly, she wiggled her toes against his leg. He drew it back with a little grunt. She froze, terrified he would wake up and ask her what she was doing here. And hell if she knew the answer to that. Key was her friend, not her lover. How had they ended up in bed together after all these years? There had been nothing remotely sexual in their relationship since high school.

  She was still contemplating that when he sighed. Her heart almost leapt out of her chest when he moved, half covering her with his long, powerful body, his mouth nuzzling into her neck. Crystal melted in near mindless delight, biting her lip to keep from crying out. But when his hand cupped her breast and gave the nipple a gentle caress between thumb and forefinger, she was incapable of speech anyway. His tongue flicked her ear.