by Risqué
He followed me? “Midtown?” She didn’t know what else to say.
“Don’t lie, Yuri.”
“Jeff”—she resumed getting undressed—“go sit yo’ paranoid ass down.” She faced the dresser’s mirror and started taking her jewelry off. She could see his reflection behind her.
“I saw you, Yuri.”
“How, Jeff? Saw me where, doing what?”
“I followed you. We pulled off at the same damn time, you just didn’t know it. So I saw you drive to midtown.”
“So where’d I go, then, Jeff?”
“You tell me—”
Instantly Yuri realized that Jeff may have followed her to midtown, but he didn’t know exactly where she went. “Oh, I can’t stand you! What the hell are you following me for? I didn’t go to midtown, I went to Brooklyn!”
“I saw you, Yuri!” Jeff grabbed her by the left elbow and turned her around toward him.
She snatched away. “Well, if you saw me, then you should’ve tapped me on my shoulder and made your presence known. You ain’t seen shit but a paranoid-ass vision. Driving around gettin’ yo’ Orange Juice jones on and all the time you wrong as ran-over shoes. You’se a damn clown!”
“Oh, you think I’ma clown?” He mushed her on the side of the head causing her neck to jerk. “Well, you must be a magician since your damn clothes are different!”
“I’m sooooo sick of you. And here I thought you were ready to work on this marriage!” Yuri pushed Jeff in the center of his chest and grabbed her housecoat. “I’m going in the other fuckin’ room. Now follow me if you want to!”
Jeff walked behind Yuri as she sauntered into the guest room. She crawled into bed and did her best to act as if he wasn’t standing there.
“You know what, Yuri?” Jeff said, deciding to end the argument, especially since his attempt to follow her was halted by a red light. “I’m doing all I can not to fuck you up, but I swear to God that yo’ ass is reachin’ like a motherfucker.”
Drae
“What if,” Drae said to Yuri as they browsed through the sale rack at Neiman Marcus, “I told you I’d thought about leaving Hassan?” Drae spoke casually, as if she just asked how the weather was.
“I’d say”—Yuri paused and held up a Norma Kamali blazer—“remember the piss-filled hallways, remember Red Hook, remember who put you through college, remember when we were seventeen and I asked you who was this niggah and instead of telling me who he was, you told me his pockets were laced?”
“That’s exactly why,” Drae snapped, putting the skirt she was holding back on the rack, “I don’t tell you shit.”
“Why? Because I give you the same shit you give me?”
“I’m honest with you.”
“About what? You ain’t honest with me about shit. All you do is sell me a buncha flighty life-is-so-wonderful nonsense and quite frankly I’m sick of it. All of my life that’s all I heard, from my mother, from our grandmother, from everybody. Drae is trying so hard, why don’t you do better, Yuri? You have a mother, she doesn’t. Drae is a virgin, Yuri, how could you be pregnant at eighteen—”
“You being pregnant didn’t have shit to do with me! It had to do with you giving up your virginity to Britt and allowin’ him to nut all up in you, like he wasn’t in love with Troi!”
“You act like it was a one-night stand. We were together for three months after that.”
“No, he fucked you for three months after that. You were never his girl, and soon as you told him you were pregnant, he gave you the abortion money and he fuckin’ stepped. Just like he gon’ do again.”
“Don’t you worry about what he’s gon’ do again. Besides, I thought this was about Hassan.”
“No, this seems to be about some shit you got on your chest that you wanna get off.”
“Whatever.”
“So are you fucking Britt? Again?”
“Goddamn, Drae. Yes, yes, I’m fucking him again.”
“You so stupid!”
“Fuck you. I forgot, you’re perfect.”
“I told you before you don’t know what the fuck I am!”
“What are you then, Drae?!”
“Miserable.” Tears welled in her eyes. “The fuck miserable.”
Yuri held the suit in her hand close to her chest. She knew the argument they just had had gathered some onlookers and eavesdroppers, but at this moment she was in too much shock to care. “What?”
“I’m just unhappy and I’m even more upset that you still holding some jealousy shit over my head from when we were kids. Yuri, you were the one who had it all. Not me. I inherited my mother’s section-eight apartment and a buncha damn drama ever since.”
“Drae, are you okay?” Yuri looked concerned. “You wanna tell me what’s going on?” She hung the suit back on the rack and walked over to Drae. “What’s the problem?”
Drae stared at Yuri and did her best to judge if she could tell her the real deal. When she couldn’t decipher if she could be completely honest or not she lied and spat out, “Hassan wants to swing!”
For a quick second Yuri stood speechless, “Swing from what?”
“You know what I’m talking about!”
“He wants to see you ridin’ another man’s dick and he wants you to see him fuck another woman?” she said as she frowned. “What?”
“Damn, you can fix your face. Be honest, would you ever do that with your husband?”
“If I knew that bitch would keep him.”
“You going to hell.” Drae chuckled.
“So, you’re serious, Drae?” Yuri asked.
“Not really. I think what’s really bothering me,” they began walking out of the clothing department and over to the shoes, “is that I feel like I’m at a point in my life where I should be secure in who I am, what I want, and what I expect and I’m not there yet and the shit is eating me up. You understand where I’m coming from?”
“Do I? Please.” Yuri picked up a snakeskin stiletto and looked at the price.
“So, what do you do?” Drae asked.
“I keep it moving. I avoid feeling the shit if I can. It’s like okay, I’m not sure where I’m supposed to be in life, but I know I’m not supposed to be here, so what do I do about it?”
“And who has that answer?”
“No fuckin’ body.” Yuri put the shoe down.
“I think we have it, but we’re just too scared to realize it.”
“Gurl, please.” Yuri waved her off. “You reachin’ a little too deep for me. Just give me a man who loves me and the rest I’ll deal with later.”
“Hmph,” Drae sighed. “That’s the fuckin’ problem.”
For a few moments more they browsed the shoe section, picking up the floor samples and looking at the prices. After a while neither one of them had seen anything they liked.
“You hungry, Yuri?” Drae asked.
“Not really.”
“My treat.”
“Well hell,” Yuri smiled, “you should’ve said that the first time. Then yeah I’m hungry.”
“Cool, where you wanna go?”
“Mr. Chow’s.”
“Mr. Chow’s.” Drae smirked, “Bitch, no you not trying to spend all my money?”
“That’s the price you pay for being rich bitch.” Yuri smiled as they headed down the escalator to leave the store.
“Pussies is always hatin’ on Drae!”
“Nae-Nae, gon’ kick yo’ ass!” Yuri said and they both laughed, heading down Fifth Avenue.
Yuri
“Take off your clothes and leave ’em at the door,” Britt demanded.
As Yuri entered his loft the music immediately began to make love to her. She couldn’t help but drip with wetness as Britt stroked the keys of his grand piano like a jazz musician. She wanted to sing, but couldn’t think of what lyrics to contribute to such a melody; so instead she did as he said and began to undress as soon as she closed the front door.
The music traveled down the loft’s h
all and filled the air. The acoustics in his place were wonderful and besides his king-sized bed that sat on a second-story platform and his metallic kitchen area, his loft was designed like a top-notch recording studio—equipped with keyboards, congos, two copper pans, and more. And Yuri loved being here. Here, she felt famous and confident, like she was that bitch to be fucking a man like this…she just didn’t want to be taken out of her element. After all, she and Britt shared a world built on Jeff’s time and cheating him out of moments.
A heavy rain had started to fall, so the loft appeared dark despite the floor-to-ceiling windows that dressed every part of the room.
Yuri could clearly see Britt sitting on his piano bench, his defined back facing her, and his ecru silk boxers complementing the deep mahogany of his skin.
The heels of her Burberry stilettos clapped against his hardwood floor as she sauntered like a naked top model to greet him.
Doing her best not to be nervous, Yuri slid in between the piano and the bench, so she would be in front of Britt. As he placed his forehead on her belly, she began to massage his neck while he French-kissed her navel and rubbed her thighs. He loved every inch of her. From her French-manicured toes to the crown of her head. He especially loved how she wasn’t skinny, but was just right. He could feel her in his arms when he held her, when he squeezed her and when his dick pounded in and out of her. He couldn’t wait to hear her call his name. Kissing her breasts he said, “When you cum I want you to sing my name from the pit of your stomach; scream it in such a melody that the fuckin’ windows feel to crack.” Placing his hands around her waist he sat her on top of the piano. As her heels hit the keys a lingering chime traveled throughout the room. “Lay down,” he whispered.
Yuri lay on the piano and felt Britt’s hands gliding up and down her middle, causing her clit to throb and her mind to wish he would just fuck it or suck it. But he needed to do something before the thought of it all caused her to cum. “Look up,” he said, pushing two of his fingers inside her.
Yuri looked up and saw the large, lit mirror above the piano. This was the first time she’d seen her new body in full view, all the other times she felt too self-conscious to stare at herself. “You see yourself?” Britt asked, now slipping his fingers out and running them across Yuri’s lips.
“Yes.”
“That’s who I want. Nobody else. Understand?”
“Why are we discussing that?”
“Because I see the fear on your face. And you get too emotional, too impulsive, and I want it to stop. My plans aren’t to hurt you. I’m feeling you…to say the least…but you got a husband and I’m in between. We both have to remember to play our positions, but as long as you’re honest with me, I’ll never leave you alone. I don’t give a damn about Jeff being at home.”
“I just get confused….” Yuri paused, she didn’t want to say anything that would make Britt think twice about them being together one day.
Before Yuri could go on, Britt massaged her breast. “Shh…no more confessions.”
“Britt—”
“Not now,” he whispered. “Shhhh…sit up a little.” Yuri did as she was told and her breasts were directly in Britt’s face. “I want you to suck your nipple with me.” Not sure exactly what to do, Yuri lifted her left D-cup breast and placed the nipple in her mouth.
“That’s it, baby,” Britt whispered. After watching for a few moments, Britt started to kiss Yuri’s other neglected breast, teasing the nipple with his tongue. Shortly after tantalizing her right nipple on his own, he worked his way over, slipped his tongue in Yuri’s mouth and after softly biting her tongue he worked his way around the hard and swollen nipple she sucked on, eventually stealing it away. Feeling Britt suck her breast was like a breath of fresh air; it was simple yet so serene, so natural yet so powerful.
Stroking his dreads she closed her eyes and began to imagine what they could one day be.
“Slide back,” Britt said, slipping her nipple from his mouth and twirling it between his thumb and index finger.
Yuri kept her eyes closed and slid back.
“Now open your eyes,” Britt continued, “and look at me.”
Yuri opened her eyes and Britt was now lying over her, dipping his fingers into her pussy, pulling out her erotic candy. “Taste it.” He stuck his fingers into her mouth.
“Uhmmm,” she moaned.
“You like to taste that pussy? That’s my pussy. My sweet, sweet pussy…” He took his fingers from her mouth and circled his fingertips across her clit. Placing his pussy-covered index finger back to her lips he demanded, “I want you to suck the candy off my dick.”
“Whatever you want, baby.” As Yuri turned him over and began to ride him, her pussy slapped generously across his thighs. The sound of her skin clapping against his drove Britt insane. As the nut began to rumble in his belly, he knew he couldn’t let her think she was working this scene—after all, he’d told her to sing his name, and she hadn’t called him once. So, he flipped her over, pulled her ass onto his shaft, and fucked her from the back wall of her pussy until he felt like the walls would collapse. “Don’t nut without singing my name,” he said, biting the back of her neck.
He felt her pelvis start to contract. “What the fuck I just say?”
“Britt,” she panted.
“That didn’t have a melody. I said sing the shit,” he said, as his scrotum slapped against her ass. “Sing it!”
“Britt…” she sang in a baritone, yet fighting the urge to scream.
“No! Sing that shit higher.”
“Britt…” she attempted in alto.
“Higher!”
“Britt…” Soprano.
“Higher…!”
“Britt…There’s a quiet storm…”
“I said sing that, sing that shit!”
“Britt!” she spat out like Patti LaBelle hitting her highest note. “And it never felt like this before….”
“That’s it, baby,” Britt moaned. “You there. Awwl shit.”
As Yuri sang, she could feel Britt’s nut dripping from her pussy and running down her thighs. “Turn over,” she told him.
He complied and now she lay on top, continuing to sing and kissing him on the forehead.
“Why you making me love you…?”
Yuri lifted the soft hairs on Britt’s chest with wet kisses, leaving a damp trail down to his dick. Working his eroticness into her mouth she could taste her pussy-made candy. The taste was bitter and the texture was sticky, but she would eat it a million times if he asked her to. Being that she wasn’t able to quite express how her heart felt, she traded off by providing him with the epitome of exotic pleasure. Pushing her thoughts of Jeff interfering and Troi stealing him out of her mind, Yuri licked and sucked with every blessing her mouth had to offer.
He did his best not to scream; massaging the back of her neck he sang, “…Every day is Christmas and every night is New Year’s Eve…”
“Yo,” Britt yelled into the bathroom, as Yuri stepped out of the shower. “What’s taking you so long?”
“What?” she yelled back, slipping on the pin-striped pajama button-up he gave her. She loved how his smell lingered in the collar. “Just so you know, my pussy is sore.” She walked out of the bathroom, her thick thighs fully exposed and the bottom of her ass cheeks bouncing graciously, flashing her silk panties.
Britt slapped her on the ass as she walked past him. He flashed a huge smile, showing all his teeth. “Come here and let me kiss it for you.”
Yuri walked over to him and expected him to laugh; in an effort to beat him to the punch she mushed him in his head. “You play too much.”
Ignoring her, Britt bent down, moved the seat of her panties and kissed her pussy. Yuri bit the inside of her cheek and did all she could to stop her mouth from confessing every bit of her love for him. “You’ll have a bitch kill you.”
He gave a sly smile, he knew she was hung up on his charm. “I can’t help it if I’m the shit.”
“And that’s an issue because…?” Britt opened his cabinet and placed his pressure pot on the lit stove.
“Well…” she stalled.
“Exactly; leave the shit alone.” He placed the goat meat he’d left marinating overnight in curry herbs and spices into the pot.
“Just one question.”
“What, Yuri?”
“So what’s different this go-round than the last time?”
“I appreciate you more.”
“Really? Why?”
“Because you gotta big ass”—he laughed—“that’s why. Now, what I tell you about confessing? Leave that shit alone. Please.”
“Oh, I can’t stand you.” Yuri reached for the bottle of Rum Punch sitting on the counter in front of her and poured herself a glassful.
“Me?” Britt started to chop up fresh vegetables to make fried rice.
“Yes, you,” she said, as she walked over, jumped on the counter and watched him cook. As Yuri went to take a sip of her drink, Britt motioned for her to place the rim of her champagne glass to his lips so he could take a sip. After swallowing he said, “I want you to stop being so emotional.”
“Why do you keep saying that?”
“Because you’re too jumpy. Just chill out and go with the flow: Let me be good to you and let you not expect anything to go wrong with it. Be a’ight with happiness.”
“You’re confusing me.” She did her best to muster a laugh. “I thought you didn’t want a commitment.”
“I didn’t say commitment. I said chill.”
“Well, how do you explain you asking me ‘why you making me love you’?”
“Look, don’t push. We’re good the way we are.”
“Uhmm hmm.”
“You know…you my man and shit, like my dude, we niggahs—”
“Okay—”
“Don’t cut me off—”
“Sorry.”
“Now, where was I?”