by Retha Powers
I was just about to undress and slide into a lavender bath when I heard a knock at the front door. I stepped back into my slippers and turned down Donnel Jones’s sultry CD as I passed through the living room.
“Who is it?”
There was silence. I put the chain on the door and opened it as far as I needed to see. Rod stood there holding a medium-sized black box with a gold-and-white ribbon tied around it. He didn’t speak. Simply handed me the box and walked back over to his apartment. I slowly closed the door and sat down on the edge of my couch. I pulled out a black silk robe with a belt and a white rose. Under the tissue paper were a pair of red edible panties and a note that read: “Clev, try them on for size and I’ll eat them off for dinner.”
By the time I’d dried off from my bath, I was all wet again. I oiled my caramel skin and secured my hair behind my ears with diamond-studded hair clips. Applied a little perfume behind each ear and a dab on the small of my back. Slid into the playful panties that Rod brought me and wrapped myself up in the black silk robe. Grabbed two wineglasses, a bottle of wine, and a bag of scented candles that I’d picked up earlier. Then headed out the door with all of the nerves I could gather to stand in the hall dressed that way.
I tapped on Rod’s door three times but it was right before the fourth that he appeared with a bare chest, wearing nothing but a pair of black silk boxers. He took my bags and kissed me lightly on the forehead. Made way for me to enter his domain, the very one I’d stayed up late imagining losing control in. All of the lights were out but I could hear D’Angelo’s soulful sounds pouring out of a distant speaker. Rod shut the door behind me and disappeared into another room for a minute. He returned smiling devilishly and took my hand. Led me out onto his balcony, where he had lined the two black metal chairs on each side and left the table centered. He stopped in the threshold and held me from behind. We swayed to the music as his hands traveled to sacred places. I did figure eights with my hips until he groaned with anticipation. Making him hold me tighter, press my body into his.
I turned to face him and said, “Just do what you would normally do at this time.”
He smiled and pulled a chair over to me.
“Is this what you would be doing, sitting out on your balcony?” I asked.
“Not when I’m looking for satisfaction. That doesn’t go any farther than my bedroom—but you would know that already, wouldn’t you?”
“How could I not?”
“Does it bother you?”
I quickly changed the subject with, “Could you fill one of those glasses for me?”
Rod stared at me with a blank expression and then raised his finger to beckon for me.
“C’mere,” he told me, “I want to show you something.”
I stood to my feet and walked up close enough to feel his breath on my cheeks. He untied my belt and let my robe fall to the ground. I covered my 36Cs as he kissed me from the top of my head to where my hands were planted. Slowly removed them and then kissed the inside of my palms as if to bring validity to my touch.
At that moment it became clear to me that he had an agenda. Rod was aware of how the sensory deprivation had affected me. I wanted to see and touch, not just hear and smell. He placed my hands upon his chiseled stomach. I stepped closer. Let them travel along his arms and up to the back of his neck. Found those hairs that stand on end when the sweet scent of warm lubrication is in the air.
He whispered, “I want you to touch me every way you’ve thought about when you were on the other side of that wall.”
“And I want you to touch me every way I’ve ever thought about when I was on the other side of that wall.”
Just as I turned my back to him and buried myself in his chest, Rod took his right hand, grabbed the inside of my thigh, and maneuvered his fingers inside my honey hole. When he felt the abundant moisture, he moaned in disbelief. I massaged his fingers with my wet walls and did pelvic thrusts that made him gasp for breath. He kissed along my neckline. Took his free hand and swept me away to his bedroom where he had lit the candles I brought and placed them around his bed.
I pressed my hand against his chest and pushed away. “Not in here, Rod.”
“Why?”
“She’s been in here. This is my night. It’s not about satisfaction anymore.”
“Where do you want to be?” he asked.
“Where we always meet.”
He looked puzzled.
“The balcony,” I answered, reaching into his boxers and massaging his head.
He gave a grin that could be considered almost criminal. “You’re freaky like that, huh? You want to be seen.”
I laughed and shoved his boxers to the floor. “And you’re freaky enough to want to be heard.”
“I guess that makes us good together.”
I kissed his full, soft lips and invited his tongue inside.
He took that short stroll back outside and stationed the table in a corner that was blocked by a few trees but not enough to cause voyeurs to mistake my curvaceous ass, which I’d gotten on all fours and audaciously pointed toward the east, for anything else. Rod’s tongue moved with the precision of a surgeon, bringing me to almost fatal climaxes and then easing back in time for me to regain composure. Caressed my breasts from behind as he challenged himself to lose his tongue inside of me.
A sound grew from deep down in my soul and as my taut caramel legs quivered on that table and the night wind blew over my ass, I recognized it. They were the expressions of ecstasy that I’d long awaited. That I’d heard her make. That I’d come to find.
As my screams heightened, Rod pulled away with red saturated lips and an erection that demanded immediate attention. He stood to his feet as I held position and listened to him fill a condom with a chocolate pleasurable. Rod placed his hand on the small of my back and slid himself inside. At first, slow and steady. Then as the slurping sounds of him swimming in bountiful liquids increased, so did his movements. He began to thrust harder, causing his hand to slip in my sweaty back. I noticed how his conversation seemed to diminish by then. Almost as though he were in a trance. The sounds, the wind, the sweat. It all combined to make the sudden knock at his door even more inopportune.
I stopped moving, but Rod grabbed my hips like a guard seizing stolen property.
“Please, Clev, don’t stop.”
I looked back into his dimly lit apartment in time to be startled by a second knock.
I asked him, “Are you expecting company?”
“It’s her.”
“But she doesn’t come on Wednesday.”
“Then let her hear that tonight is your night to cum.”
Rod pulled out and flipped me over on my back with such a swiftness that he sent one of his chairs falling over the railing. I lay on my back with sweat rolling down my legs when he opened them and planted himself even farther into my cave. Applied just enough pressure with his pelvic region to make my lips flutter and flood him with more juices.
“Ooo, Clev,” he whined, “I need this.”
I moved with him. Began wavelike motions as I wiggled my hips and licked his nipples. Then came another knock.
“Clev, she can’t year you,” he uttered through his exhaustion.
I looked him in the eye as a bead of sweat fell and ran along my shoulder blade. “Then let her hear you.”
I placed both my hands on his ass, gave myself a little leverage and brought the honey to him. The slurping of my black box became louder, my grip got tighter, and in a matter of seconds she not only knew that Wednesday belonged to someone else but knew my name, too.
Specialgrl Meets Gntlwmn
_________________
by Darris
We’re walking on the warm, white beach feeling the soft grains of sand between our toes, under an unbelievably clear sky, talking about small things—how pretty you look in that sundress, how healthy my hair looks. *placing my hands into yours* … Look at the sunset, isn’t it beautiful?
For
seven months they were cyberfriends—they shared cyberwalks on beaches in both California and in Maine, each describing her own beach and its beauty to the other. They shared cyberpicnics, bringing their favorite foods, often feeding each other, taking little nibbles on each other’s fingers, arms, necks, cheeks. Sometimes they boiled fresh Maine lobster on a fire outside of a cozy cabin at an inland camp. Sometimes they went for a drive up the California coast from North L.A. to San Francisco, stopping at their favorite spots, enjoying picnics with freshly picked fruit and champagne. And always, lately, they find themselves in each other’s virtual arms, holding, hugging, loving, kissing, making sweet, passionate, but gentle love tailored to each one’s fantasy.
Dana has envisioned what Janell’s voice will sound like—sweet, womynly, articulate, and oh, so sensual. It would have to be. She could tell by the way she “talked” on line. She knew that the only voices in her head were her own, but Dana had a collection of voices in her head for people she had never met yet whose words were familiar through cyberspace or through letters. Janell was assigned the one that reminded Dana of a sophisticated and intelligent womyn she’d met long ago, who was from California, but lived at the time in New York. And she had the pictures that Janell had scanned into her computer during the seven months they had been communicating.
She knew Janell’s stats, that she was five foot seven, weighed 175 pounds, and had a 36B bust. She knew she had deep brown eyes, jet-black hair; that she wore it long; and that her skin was chocolate brown. So Dana had a relationship with these images, this imagined voice, and the words—wonderful, intelligent, sensual words—on her screen.
I can’t believe I’m really doing this, Janell thought, interrupting the flow of memories of her cyber-relationship, while looking out of the airplane window down on the Northeast landscape. Maybe we should have met in Cali, in my territory, or even somewhere in between, but then again… Maine, I hear, is beautiful, “vacationland” they call it, especially in the summer, so if nothing else, it’s a chance to see Maine.
While they were meeting in Dana’s territory, they were very careful to plan their union so that neither would feel disadvantaged. They reserved two rooms in a lesbian-owned bed-and-breakfast in Belfast that was a couple of hours’ drive from Bar Harbor and three hours from Dana’s home. They’d planned their weekend with plenty of distractions, just in case their 3D experience was different from their cyber experience. Plus, they’d assuage the awkwardness of their first meeting.
I’m kissing you, on your mouth, then your neck, your shoulder, stopping to gently bite your shoulder, right here. Yes. Now I’m moving down to your breast. I see that your nipples are erect for me, mmmmm. Now I’m kissing each one, your left one first, then your right. I am holding your right breast in my left hand, and I have your left breast in my mouth, licking and sucking your nipple.
Dana has finally reached Route 95 after an hour and a half of back roads. The pleasure of some of her favorite fantasies, coupled with the anxiety of meeting Janell, made the ride seem quicker than she remembered. After a few months of sharing each other’s sensual and sexual fantasies, each knows what the other enjoys and would like to explore. Dana knows that Janell loves massages, especially foot massages. She knows that she likes it when Dana gives her sweet, sensual kisses all over her body, from head to toe, nibbling on certain favorite spots along the way. And she knows that Janell likes baths scented with aromatherapy oils, rose and lilac petals in the water, and candles around the tub.
Dana even remembers their shared Jacuzzi fantasies with the jets massaging their bodies, enhancing the pleasure, while making passionate love. It’s too bad the bed-and-breakfast doesn’t have a Jacuzzi, she thinks as she looks at the picture of Janell she has in the memo clip on her dashboard. She says she really looks like her picture. God, I hope so. “I don’t,” she remembers replying. “I don’t have any pictures of myself, but I can try to get one for you before you come out to Maine. There was this newspaper article…”
I am on my knees, in front of you, my arms are wrapped around you, holding your butt, and I’m kissing your navel, rimming your belly button with my tongue. Now I’m moving lower, mmmmm, you smell so good; I’m kissing you now, your lips protrude to me, I kiss them, they kiss me back, I open them and taste your juices, mmmmm, you taste good, too.
Janell could hardly contain herself as she smiled at her gentlewomyn’s consistent and thorough kisses all up and down her body, including her toes. She wondered if Dana would really kiss her toes, or if it will remain a fantasy. She got a fresh manicure and pedicure just in case. Just in case Dana really wanted to suck all of her digits, as she told her on the screen.
Dana remembered their first date. They had been chatting for a while in chat groups, but both claimed that they ignored those little IMs that flashed across the screen by someone’s wanting to fulfill their cyberfantasies. Until one day, when Janell asked her on a date.
Come on, it will be sweet, safe, just a date, okay? And if you’re uncomfortable, we can stop.
I’m shy, Dana responded, and I am not into cybersex.
Me neither, but I’d like to take you on a date.*s*;)
*blushing* okay…
Here, I’ll pour you some champagne.
Great! That’s my favorite too. Okay, *pouring each of us a glass of champagne*
Dana remembered the champagne, she remembered the fresh fruit, she remembered the roses and lilacs—all ordered and waiting at the bed-and-breakfast. She turned off the Portland exit, heading toward the airport. Janell’s plane would be landing in just a few minutes—her anxiety intensified. She manicured her own fingernails, something she had never done, but she remembered Janell’s comment about long nails being a sure sign of a lack of sex. So she gave a little extra attention to brushing under them and buffing them to look pearly. She smiled as she thought about the humor they shared, even in their fantasies.
I’m putting my hands into you, gently, sweetly, I feel your softness…
How are your nails? *LOL*
Janell chuckled out loud at the thought, then turned to see if the womyn sitting next to her noticed. Her heart jumped as she heard the pilot welcoming them to Maine. She took another look at the black-and-white picture she found on the Net herself after Dana told her about an article that a Maine newspaper had run on her. Janell figured that they might have a Web site, and that if there was an article on her with a picture, she might be able to find it. She was quite excited when she did, and found that Dana was a very intelligent-looking, attractive womyn. She held on to the image of the face in the picture, imagining the way she must look in person, envisioning the hue of her skin, the texture of her hair, the thickness of her lips, the whiteness of her teeth, all in relation to the black-and-white picture. She does look like a gentlewomyn, she thought. A gentlewomyn and a scholar. She chuckled at Dana’s self-description. She was anxious to see her in person.
And now, specialgrl would meet gntlwmn and their fantasies would hopefully become realities, their voices would exist outside of their imaginations. Their faces would be three-dimensional, not Janell’s scanned, polished image or Dana’s black-and-white newspaper photo. Their blemishes would be uncovered, their words unedited.
Dana hops up as the announcement is made that flight number 2318, arriving from California with connections through Chicago, will be disembarking at gate number three on the upper deck. She stands. She sits. She pulls out the picture again, takes another long stare, and stands again… She brushes her pants, pulls down her shirt. She runs her hand over her hair. She’s here, she thinks, then she pulls out the placard she had made for Janell.
Janell walks out with the crowd, anxious to meet Dana yet worried that she will not recognize her. But Dana assured her, humorously, that there wouldn’t be very many wimmin who looked like her in Maine. Janell walks into the terminal and sees a beautiful, full-figured dyke smiling pleasantly and holding a sign that says SPECIALGRL ;) in bold, purple letters. At the same t
ime a voice on the airport speaker says, “Welcome to Maine, the way life should be.”
He Makes Love Like a Woman
_________________
by Carl Weber
When I was eighteen, I was working in a strip club and I ran into this nigga named Black who I really cared about. He was real smooth and told me everything I wanted to hear. Like most young sisters, I confused good sex with love and I ended up giving him my money. I didn’t mind giving Black my money, though. Especially since he kept tellin’ me how much he loved me and that he planned on marrying me when we had enough money. But after a while he started beating on me and when the beatings got real bad, I had to cut his ass loose.
I’d tried guys and that didn’t work so I looked to chicks. I’d been attracted to females ever since I was a kid and experimented so chicks weren’t a real problem. There’s nothin’ in the world like a sexy sister. Don’t get me wrong, I like guys, too, but the way women make love is so completely different from the gruffness of a man. There is nothing in the world like the gentle touch of a woman when she kisses your breasts, or the expertise she has when she goes down on you. Try as hard as you want, some things you just can’t teach a man. Or so I thought.
By the time I was twenty, my older sister had joined me in the strip club. I don’t know why she didn’t wanna learn from my mistakes, but six months later she’d hooked up with a brother just like Black and ended up pregnant. After she had her baby, I left the streets and came on home permanently. I wasn’t stripping as much. For some reason my heart just wasn’t in it anymore, plus Black was back in town and I was sick of fucking niggas just to protect me from him. He’d been popping up talking a lot of shit lately and although I don’t wanna admit it, I was more than a little scared.
When I got home, my mom was on that crack shit so bad I felt obligated to take care of my brother and nephew. My sister was straight up out of there and the truth is, I was more of a mother to her child than she was. I guess inside I really wanted a baby of my own—someone I could care for and be that family I’d always wanted.