by N'Tyse
Why did it always boil down to a desperate moment like this? Moments where she had to rely on a two-finger discount to get her off. She glanced over at the beautiful mounted mirror that covered half the bathroom’s stone walls. She observed the way her breasts complemented each other, hand in hand. She envisioned Sand moving between her breasts, her desiring flesh floating to her lips like magnets. It was all so real and so gratifying just knowing what was in store as the water continuously flowed over her temple, drinking up its sweetest temptation.
As time slipped away, Deja seductively pulled at her nipples. Her pussy began administering orders, and she obediently began inching her fingers inside of her. She was wet, too damn wet to be all alone at a time like this. She withdrew her fingers, but the urge to please herself lured them back in. Before Deja could count to three, she was working her middle finger in and out of her juiciness like a mad machine. “Oh yes,” she moaned in pleasure, feeling herself being taken to another place. She bit down softly on her bottom lip. “That’s right. Fuck me, Sand. Fuck me like I’m yours!”
Between the four walls of her bathroom, Sand was fucking her shitless. Deja couldn’t hold on. She was about to come. “Aww, yes,” she cried out, pumping herself faster. Suddenly, her phone rang again, interrupting her private session, but Deja refused to let that drive away her nut and prolong her goal. Her hands were playing pitty-pat with her middle. She wasn’t stopping. She was already there. Now all she had to do was come.
Ding, ding, ding!
“Fuck!” she yelled. Deja tried tuning everything out of her mind that wasn’t involved in the important matter at hand. She controlled her balance. She could feel the waves of her moving climax putting up a Mike Tyson and Evander Holyfield fight.
Her phone rang again. Ring, ring, ring!
Then her doorbell. Ding, ding, ding!
This couldn’t be happening. Deja tried ignoring the phone and doorbell, but it wasn’t working. She could feel her nut getting discouraged. “No no no. Um, right there. Almost there,” she told it.
Ring, ring, ring!
“Wait!” she yelled. “Shit! Who in the hell could that be calling me?” Then she considered the possibilities of it being Nessa, telling her that Sand had called again. She ended her play session, stepped out of the shower, and wrapped herself in a towel. In the fogged mirror, she acknowledged her reflection. Her once-straightened hair was all wet, just as wet as her pussy. The phone rang again. Deja hurried to it. Just as she figured it would, the ringing stopped right before she could lift the receiver from its cradle.
Ding, ding, ding!
She scurried for the door. If it was Toni again God help her because Deja was ready to call the police and have her crazy ass thrown in jail. She wasn’t about to put up with her shit again. In a voice so angelic, but clearly upset, “Who is it?” she called out with her ear partially to the door. When no one said anything, Deja stared down the eye of the peephole. She didn’t recognize the lady and young man on her porch, but she unchained her lock and cracked the door open anyway.
“May I . . . help . . . you with something?” Deja asked. As she took another hard look, she trusted that her eyes were not deceiving her. She blinked water from them, pulled the hair that clung to her face behind her ears, and swallowed the huge lump forming in her throat. Uncertainty clouded her judgment. “Sand?”
“What’s up, Deja? Long time no see,” Sand smiled. “Can we, uh, come in for a second?” She shifted the large duffel bag from one hand to the other.
Deja felt light-headed. Faint. Her mind had to have been playing tricks on her, and she couldn’t formulate a sentence to save her life. “Um, yeah. I, uh . . . was just getting ready—” She stopped and caught her breath, then exhaled deeply. “Wow. This is a big surprise,” she managed.
“I’m Ty, and, ma’am, look here, I have to pee really, really bad. You mind if I use your bathroom?” she rudely interrupted.
“Sure. Come on in.” Deja opened the door wider, looking upside Ty’s head at the outrageous hairdo, trying her hardest not stare at her black eye and busted lip. “It’s right back there to your right.” She allowed room for Ty to pass.
“Thaaank you!” Ty walked around Sand and quickly in the direction Deja sent her.
Deja then immediately switched her attention back to Sand who was wearing just a wife beater and jeans. Her small breasts, Deja barely noticed. She faced Sand for the first time in months. Sand’s hair was all gone, and she looked different from the images filtered in Deja’s memory.
“It’s been a long time,” Deja started out.
Sand stepped closer to Deja, shutting the door behind them.
“I thought you were—”
“Ssshhh.” Sand silenced Deja with her finger. “I just want to look at you for a moment.” Sand felt the vibe. It was so strong she could only shake her head.
“What? What is it?” Deja asked, gazing into Sand’s hazel-brown eyes.
“This reminds me of something.” Sand stopped. “Us, right here, right now.”
“What?” Deja asked, her eyes begging for Sand to spit it out.
Sand took in Deja’s body from head to toe. She was so damn tempted to unwrap the towel and set her body free. “You and I.”
Deja wasn’t following.
Sand pulled Deja into her. She kissed her forehead, then her nose.
“Please, don’t do this to me again,” Deja moaned.
Sand whispered in her ear, “This feels like déjà vu.”
Deja smiled, lifting her head slightly. Water drizzled down her neck and back. “And what if it is déjà vu?” she asked. “What are you going to do with it?”
Sand brought her lips to Deja’s. Kept them there for all of sixty seconds. They only stopped because they heard the toilet flushing, and then Ty screaming at the top of her lungs as if somebody was killing her. Soon after, she emerged from behind the six-foot-tall grandfather clock.
“Ugh! I’m allergic to cats,” she huffed. She stomped at Whiskers and watched him scamper to the opposite side of the house, more scared of her than she was of him. “Sand, are we chilling here for a minute?” Ty asked. “We’ve been rolling around all morning, and I ain’t had nobody’s sleep,” she complained.
Sand looked back at Deja. Deja’s eyes gave her the answer.
“Just for a little bit; then we have to be out,” Sand told Ty.
“I’ll go grab some extra pillows and a blanket. You can stay here for however long you need. You know that,” Deja assured Sand.
Sand smiled because she did know that.
When Deja returned, Ty was already stretched out on the sofa, making herself at home. Sand, on the other hand, was standing, awaiting Deja’s next request. Deja placed the pillows and blanket beside Ty. “There’s more if you need them,” she told her. Ty wrapped herself up and closed her eyes.
Deja turned to face her old lover. “There’s room in the guest room if you’d prefer.”
Sand smirked as she curled her lips. “Oh yeah?”
“Yeah. I mean, unless you’re more comfortable in here, with your friend?” Deja asked cautiously. She didn’t know the situation, and she was never one to make assumptions.
Sand chuckled. “I only have one friend.” She smiled, correcting what Deja had implied.
Stepping closer, “Oh really? And who might that be?” Deja asked with a sinister smile plastered on her face.
Sand looked over at Ty who was knocked out. She then glanced over at the clock. There was still a schedule to keep. Deja had backed her into a corner, and the longer Sand stood there, the harder it was for her to walk away. “You’re my friend,” she said finally, gazing into Deja’s beautiful coffee-brown eyes. “You’re the only friend I have right now. Ain’t nobody else out here for me. Nobody I can trust. I thought I had that a long time ago, but I was wrong. And I’m just not trying to get caught up no more,” Sand vented.
Deja saw the hurt and disappointment in her face, and she wanted to be the on
e to take it all away.
Sand put her arms around Deja’s body to console her, or maybe to console herself.
Standing between a yesterday and a tomorrow, Deja’s mind rested on the right now. She needed Sand, wanted Sand, and was not afraid to tell her so. “Sand, I love you.”
Sand looked at Deja with a fresh pair of eyes. “You love me?”
Deja’s words came out so sincere. “Yeah, I do.”
They hadn’t even known each other that long, but yet, Deja had developed strong feelings for her. Feelings that she had surely mistaken for love. Sand tried to disguise her shock. “How much? How much do you think you love me?”
Deja could taste Sand’s breath every time she opened her mouth to speak. That sweet cigar smell lingered between them. Insecurity stirred emotions in Deja that caused her to doubt herself. Her bottom lip began to quiver. Does Sand really need an answer to that? Immediately, flashbacks of Sand and her together reassured those feelings she’d had from day one. There was nothing more to think about because the answer was already there. Sand just didn’t see it. Deja vowed she’d never fall in love again. But this feeling she had right now, this crave—was worth giving love another try.
“I love you a lot,” Deja declared. “I think about you all day and all night. When I go to sleep, and when I wake up. I can’t stop thinking about you.” She tried to control her emotions. “It’s like,” she sniffed, “you and I are supposed to be,” she proclaimed. “Every part of me wants to be in your life. I feel something special when I’m with you.” Deja hesitated as she went on. “And since that night,” even if Sand couldn’t remember that passion-filled night they shared, Deja wanted her to know that it existed, “I have been a wreck around here. You consume my thoughts, my prayers, and when I go to sleep, you’re there, in my dreams.”
Sand dipped her fingers into Deja’s dimples. She felt it too. There was a chemistry between them, and like Deja, she also thought about her morning, noon, and night. It was scary in some ways because the one woman Sand loved deeply and shared everything with had betrayed her. Now she had reached a point where she believed true love would never exist. But here was Deja, standing before her, spilling out those powerful words, “I love you.” Those words changed things. Gave you another way of examining what was staring you right in the face.
Standing toe-to-toe, lip-to-lip, Sand felt that radiating surge of energy trigger her most sensitive spots. “Show me how much you love me then,” she challenged Deja.
Deja waited for that last response to register. She traced Sand’s mouth, then her chin. Her manicured fingernail tip glided so softly over what was destined to be hers. She took the towel that she’d wrapped herself in and untucked it to expose her nakedness. “I can definitely show you better than I can tell you,” she smiled. She led the way to her room with Sand following closely behind. The doors closed, the heat returned, their bodies unified, and once again, everything that Deja so badly wanted to happen took place again, again, and again.
12
“Thank God for 24-hour Walmarts and corner stores,” Illusion thought as she pulled into the parking lot. She grabbed the Walmart bag that had her new change of clothes in it. A pair of khaki straight-legged slacks and a toasted-beige cropped cardigan pulled over a white tank. It was the cheapest ensemble she could throw together for less than thirty bucks. She even found a sexy pair of chocolate pumps with a four-inch heel, which, compared to what she’s used to wearing, felt like flats underneath her feet.
“Haaa chooo!” Illusion sneezed for the fifth time. She just knew it. Her ass was catching a cold, but she had something for that too. She popped another Air-Borne just after taking three less than an hour before.
Illusion turned off the engine and walked inside the store. Her dress was still somewhat damp, and she’d bet anything that this was one time she actually looked like a hooker. “Where’s your restroom?” she asked the Arabian guy standing behind the register wearing a turban.
The clerk stared Illusion up and down, prejudging her the second she entered the store. “The restrooms are in the back,” he said, glancing down at the plastic bag in her hand.
Illusion made her way toward the back of the store.
“Awww, sookie, sookie, now.”
Illusion turned around to see who the baritone voice belonged to.
“What that’ll run me?” the man asked, not cutting any corners. He zipped his fly, running his hands over his graying mustache. He gave Illusion a roguish, devil-eyed stare, placing her in a categorical spot in his mind. The man’s work jeans were just as filthy as his black, steel-toe boots, plus he smelled like he’d been hauling garbage.
Illusion read the white embroidered name and logo on his company’s shirt. She suppressed the remarks she felt getting ready to leap off her tongue and instead, tried to sustain the horrid smell blowing in her direction. “I take it you were talking to me?” she smiled, batting her lashes a time or two.
“You the only one standing here, right?” The man tugged at the instantaneous erection she’d given him.
Illusion only stared at him, glancing feverishly at the rising lump in his pants.
The clerk behind the register watched Illusion in the store’s surveillance camera. “No soliciting in my store,” he hollered.
Illusion batted her lengthy lashes again. The looks they exchanged said more than what needed to be heard. She glided her tongue across her lips in a slow and sexy manner, then pulled it back in. “Look, let me use the ladies’ room, and then we can talk some more. Is that all right with you?”
Watching Illusion half-naked in that dress had the man counting down. He wanted her services badly. “All right. That’ll work. You can find me over there.” He pointed to his big rig that was parked across the street. “I got a bed and everything for you,” he told her, rolling the toothpick in his mouth around as he sucked on his tongue.
“I’ll meet you in your office, then,” Illusion whispered seductively as she turned her back and walked into the bathroom. She was already calculating how much she would charge his ass.
Before Illusion slipped off her dress, she checked to see if there were any paper towels, but there were none in sight. She raised the flap on the tissue dispenser, and it too was empty. Then she snatched open the door and yelled to the attendant. “Excuse me, where do you keep your bathroom supplies?” After not getting a response, Illusion ran over to the aisle and snatched up a roll of tissue and baby wipes. She freshened up, brushed her teeth, and then jumped into her change of clothes. She raked her tousled hair with her fingertips, braiding it into a long braid that hung down her back. After that, she powdered her nose, rubbed on some blush, puckered her lips, and with the tip of her pinky finger, applied a strawberry-flavored lip balm. She massaged them together, readying them for their next paying project.
Illusion opened the restroom door, heading to pay for the wipes she’d taken when a fine gentleman, standing in line, caught her eye. She headed in his direction and took her place in line right behind him.
“Can I get ten on pump two, my man?” she heard him ask the clerk.
“I’m sorry, but that pump isn’t working,” the clerk told him. “I’ll put the money on the other one.”
“Not a problem.” He slid the clerk a fifty-dollar bill. The handsome stranger had all Illusion’s attention, especially his midnight skin, broad shoulders, and coal-black waves in his hair. And to top it all off, he smelled like money. “Excuse me, baby,” he apologized after backing into Illusion and barely missing her toes.
His gray eyes caught her way off guard. She just stood there, soaking in his fineness. She stepped out of his way. He smiled back at her, nodded, then walked off. Illusion watched him waltz right out the door. Without making eye contact with the clerk, she said, “Here, I took some wipes off your shelf,” and handed him a five-dollar bill. She watched him climb into his Infiniti and reverse his way to the other available pump.
The clerk looked over his glasses
at Illusion. “And a roll of Charmin,” he chimed in, including an additional $2.99 plus tax to her total.
Illusion looked at the clerk like he had lost his mind. “I’m not paying for that. It should have already been in there. How you expect people to wipe their ass?” She tapped at the counter, motioning for her change.
“Miss, that’s not my problem. There were napkins on the sink.”
“Napkins? I wasn’t gon’ wipe my . . .” There was movement in her third eye. Illusion glanced back out the door, still admiring Mr. Fine on the third pump. He blended in so well with his car that any darker and you’d need a flashlight to find him. The awakening sun bounced off his body like a spotlight, showcasing all of what the rest of the world was missing out on.
The clerk shot Illusion a disapproving look, frowning as though he had a bad taste mingling in his mouth that would not subside. “Look, lady. I charge you for the tissue you took.”
“Here. Take it!” Illusion slapped a dollar on the counter and walked off.
She stepped outside and strutted over to the borrowed BMW she was pushing for the time being. The alarm chirped, and she hopped right in. She pulled up to the opposite side of the fourth pump that wasn’t being used, got out, lifted the nozzle, and pretended to pump gas into the tank. She waited for him to speak first. When he didn’t, she said, “Excuse me,” and blushed from ear to ear. “Did anyone ever tell you that you have the sexiest eyes they’d ever seen?” She lowered the handle and placed the nozzle back onto its hook. Then she walked around to where this guy stood, catching a glimpse of his license plate in the process. It was a Florida plate. Oooh, an out-of-towner, she presumed.
“No. I don’t think I’ve heard that one before,” he lied, finding humor in her steadfast approach.
“Well, I find that hard to believe because a man as fine as you,” she paused, smiling, “deserves to be told a lot of things. I think you know where I’m going with this,” she smiled, then licked her lips. “Let me show you around Dallas sometime.”