You Make Me Wanna

by Nikki Rashan

  “Would it be okay if I watched you and Asia sometime?”

  What the fuck?!

  “She’s beautiful, Kyla. When I saw her, all I could think about was how lucky you are. You’re right, she’s amazing.”

  Didn’t I just tell her to leave my woman alone?

  “It’s not like you’ve never let anyone watch you before.”

  So this is what I get for sharing my every dirty sexual adventure with a friend? I had no idea my stories were making her panties wet. I was further insulted by her question. I wished I could erase that one regrettable evening I had allowed a husband to watch while his wife tried to figure out if eating pussy was a delicacy she preferred. A rising bout of shame emerged within. Did my careless bedroom practices translate into a free-for-all?

  “I can’t do that, Kia. Regardless of what I’ve done in the past, I can’t believe you would ask me such a thing.”

  She appeared disappointed. “I’m sorry, girl. You’re right. I shouldn’t be asking you any shit like that. I’m feeling desperate right about now. So how am I supposed to go about this then?”

  “Well, I can take you out with me sometime.”

  Nakia’s slump in the chair disappeared, and she sat upright. “I am not going to a gay club, Kyla.”

  “You say it like it’s a bad thing. Damn! You’re the one trying to get with a woman.”

  “I know. I’m just saying . . .”

  Nakia was tweaking my nerves again. I’d seen a million like her in the club. They might be scared as hell, but at least they made the effort to go after what they wanted openly. “Saying what? You’re too good to be in a gay club?”

  “No. I mean, I just don’t want to be seen. Come on, Kyla, all the women you know, you must know somebody to hook me up with.”

  Another mortified moment surfaced. I had been with all the women I knew. Surely, I wasn’t passing my leftovers on to her. “No,” I said simply. “How about a personals ad?”

  Nakia considered that idea, and a slow grin crossed her face. “Yeah, yeah, I can do that. That’ll work!”

  “There are a lot of places to try. You can put an ad in the paper, but these days, online is better. A lot of women put photos out there too.”

  “I’m sure as hell not,” she responded instantly.

  “Whatever, Kia. You might not get any responses without people knowing what you look like.”

  “Not at first. If I find somebody and like them, I’ll send a photo, but not until then.”

  I shrugged. “That might work, I guess.”

  “When can we get started?”

  I looked at the time. It was ten o’clock. “Not now, Kia. It’s late.”

  “You’ll look up some sites for me?”

  “Sure, I will.” I silently wondered what happened to her own Internet service.

  “Thanks, Ky.” Nakia hugged me. “I’m really sorry if I offended you.”

  “Thanks. I appreciate that. And keep your eyes off my woman, you hear?”

  Nakia barked her unique laugh. “I’ll try.”

  I responded with a fierce look.

  “She’s yours. It’s written all over your face how crazy you are about her.”

  “She’s the one.” Nakia rubbed my arm. “I’m glad you finally found her.”

  kyla69: u won’t believe this one david

  bottomsup: what did she have to say for herself?

  kyla69: she wants 2 b with a woman

  bottomsup: i told u that honey. what else?

  kyla69: asked could she watch me and asia

  bottomsup: OH HELL NO she didn’t!

  kyla9: yes she did

  bottomsup: what did u say baby girl?

  kyla69: i said no, what do u think i said?

  bottomsup: i know that. just making sure i don’t come home to any pools of blood

  kyla69: i didn’t kill her

  bottomsup: that’s cuz ur sweet. what did she say about asia?

  kyla69: that shes amazing

  bottomsup: dayum girl, does she want your woman?

  kyla69: i told her to back off & she apologized

  bottomsup: all right now. you better watch her still

  kyla69: i am. i’m supposed to help her find somebody

  bottomsup: how?

  kyla69: personals

  bottomsup: oh lawd, help the both of u

  kyla69: it won’t be hard to find someone willing 2 turn her out

  bottomsup: i wish i could be a fly on the wall 4 that shit

  kyla69:?

  bottomsup: can u c her loud ass screamin cuz somebody is eatin her pussy right?

  kyla69: lol—stop david!

  bottomsup: u know i’m right. i’m glad u didn’t go there

  kyla69: come on david

  bottomsup: babe, it’s not like you haven’t slipped once or twice

  kyla69: i know. why is everyone reminding me of my mistakes?

  bottomsup: so u don’t make them anymore

  kyla69: i’m not. i’m not messing this up david.

  bottomsup: good. she’s wild 4 u. i can tell

  kyla69: and vice versa

  bottomsup: ok—gotta go baby girl. mwah!

  kyla69: me 2. c u later

  “One more time,” Asia whispered just as the sun tempted to put an end to an all-night session of exploration, fantasy, and fulfillment.

  Aroused just by the warmth of her breath against my ear, I responded with a swift reach under my bed and retrieved Bunny, my softened nickname for the Rabbit, the never-disappointing vibrator and dildo combination.

  Guiding Bunny into Asia’s heated body didn’t take much effort, since she was still moist. I marveled at the silken hair, as she lay still, allowing me and Bunny to do the work.

  With Bunny circling inside, and its fast-paced flitter against her clitoris, I took hold of her right breast and squeezed tenderly.

  Asia’s eyes locked onto mine, and her gaze intensified, her eyes widening in a frenzy. Her body jittered lightly. “Ahhhh . . . yes!” And she continued moaning until the waves passed.

  After a stillness crept back over the room and settled upon the bed, I said, “You’re so amazing, Asia.”

  She chuckled. “What? You’ve never seen a girl come once, twice, or a few times before?”

  “No, you. You make me want to wrap you up and carry you with me all the time.”

  Lying down next to her, I wrapped my arms around her waist, and we fell into a peaceful sleep.

  A persistent knocking on the door stirred me awake at noon. A flashback of Tiffany’s erratic behavior jolted me upright. I know her ass didn’t break into my apartment. I hopped up in my birthday suit and cracked the door.

  “Ooh, chile, I just ate,” David said. “Put some clothes on, baby.”

  Relieved, I laughed with him and grabbed my velour robe. Even though I didn’t necessarily agree with the fashion statement velour was making with jogging suits of various colors, it did feel good behind closed doors, lounging around in my apartment.

  Asia exhaled deeply and nestled against the pillow.

  “What’s up, cuz?” I asked, stepping into the living room.

  “Check this out.”

  David handed me a shell-colored envelope addressed to both of us. The return address was from Wisconsin. And there was no mistaking the street address, since once upon a time, I’d almost claimed it as my own. The wedding seal on the back of the envelope confirmed the contents.

  It took about a year after our breakup for Jeff to initiate contact with me. David and I were in the midst of early moving plans when I’d received an e-mail from him. Word had gotten around about my relocation. He told me that he had forgiven me and wished me well. I responded immediately, thanking him for his blessing. We corresponded occasionally, but the frequency had slowed down, and by way of my mom, I had already known he was getting married next year.

  I never once thought I would make the guest list. Why was I receiving an invitation so early? Should I be flattere
d that my ex-fiancé thought about me and invited me to his upcoming nuptials? Or should I be insulted that he thought about me and invited me to his upcoming nuptials? Was this to show me up? A slap-in-the-face reminder of all I had given up? Or did he sincerely want my blessing?

  “Open it, girl.”

  Nervously I reached for the letter opener on the coffee table. Why were my hands shaking? Carefully I released the ivory invitation, trimmed in a burgundy swirled border. A silhouette of a couple, a man and a woman, greeted me. A smaller return envelope and RSVP card accompanied the invite, which read:

  Thomas and Claudia Smarczyk request the honor of your presence at the marriage union of their daughter, Julie Samantha Smarczyk, and Jeffrey Terrence Oldham on Saturday, December 27, 2003.

  David took hold of my trembling hands as I stared at the cards I held. Between Tiffany, then Kia, and now this, I thought for sure I was given hell for some sort of bad deed on my part. What was next?

  “It’s going to be okay, Kyla. This wasn’t the life for you, remember? Think of the beautiful woman waiting for you in your room.” He looked deep into my eyes. “You made the right decision.”

  “I know I did, David. I know. This just threw me off, that’s all. I didn’t think I would actually be invited,” I explained.

  “Well, baby, it couldn’t have been better timing. At least you’ll actually be at home for it.”

  “I know. Did he and my mom conspire this shit? I thought the wedding was next year? I can’t even use not being at home as an excuse not to go.”

  “Girl, you don’t need no excuses. You better show up at that wedding proud, with your head held high. Don’t weaken on me now, sweetie. Look how far you’ve come.”

  I rested my head against his narrow chest. “What would I do without you, David?”

  David rubbed my matted, sweated hair. “You’re about to find out, ’cause I’m not going home for Christmas.”

  “What?” I screamed, releasing myself from his arms.

  “Honey, Marlon, me, and MJ are going to Disney World for the holidays.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “’Cause you’re a grown-ass woman and can handle your own baby, that’s why. You can do this.”

  “Did you know about the wedding date, David?” I asked, suddenly aware that this may have been a surprise to me and only me.

  “Yes, honey, I knew. Mama told me.”

  “Oh, hell, if Aunt Shari knew, my mother knew, which means everybody knew but me.”

  “Ky, calm down. We figured you wouldn’t plan the trip home if you knew about Jeff ‘s wedding. But, baby, it’s time. You’ve been hiding for nearly two years now. To everybody at home it looks like you’re ashamed of yourself, and that’s not the case, sweetie. You know that, and I know that,” he said with a stroke to my cheek. “But they don’t know that. So go home and show them what you’re made of, darling.”

  Once again, someone else was right about the direction of my life. Why was I so frequently compelled to these panic attacks? Get it together, Kyla. “I’m good, David,” I announced with a straightened posture and with self-confidence in my voice.

  “All right, sweetheart. Now go take a shower. You got this whole place smelling like twat.”

  We laughed.

  Once inside my bedroom, I leaned against the closed door and admired Asia as she slept. With her straight hair frizzed from the heat of our passion, and a smear of eyeliner down her cheek, she was still magnificent. If there was anything I learned from my tumultuous affair with Steph, it was not to wait to tell someone you love them. When you do, you just do, and there’s no reason to pretend you don’t.

  I snuggled behind Asia, which awoke her from her nap.

  “Hey, baby,” she said with a stretch of her arms and an attempt at running her fingers through her tangled hair. “Damn,” she hissed.

  A brief silence followed as the words formed in my head made their way to my lips. “Asia,” I said, my voice a little shaky.

  Unraveling her finger from her mangled hair, she turned to me. “What is it, Kyla?” she asked hesitantly. “You’re not getting rid of me already, are you?”

  “No, never. Asia . . . I’m in love with you. I am so in love with you,” I said slowly, with emphasis on the so in love.

  Through chunky eyelashes and blurred eyeliner, her midnight-colored eyes softened. “Oh, Kyla, I love you too, honey,” she said with a hard kiss against my lips.

  “It’s not too soon, is it?” I asked. “I mean, we’ve known each other just a month.”

  “It’s never too soon to fall in love. I knew I could love you the moment you walked into the Waffle House. And by the end of the night, I already had.”

  I blushed. “You are too much.”

  Asia jumped up to straddle me at my waist. Slowly she loosened the strap of my robe and stroked my breasts with her fingertips. “I think it’s payback time,” she said slyly, then lowered her head and took turns sucking each of my nipples in her mouth.

  It felt so good. Never in my dreams had I envisioned finding and having a love so satisfying. I couldn’t wait to share the new joy and happiness I found with the world. Which gave me an idea.

  “Asia?”

  “Hmm?” she answered, her mouth full of my breast.

  “Um, what are you doing for Christmas?”

  The next day I returned the RSVP card with my and Asia’s name on it.

  We’d spent two weeks deciding which personals site Kia would join. Some nights I searched the net alone and reviewed various sites that promised successful love connections. Other times she and I would close the door to her office and browse different ads to see which sites carried the most promise for her. With her I reviewed the options: whether or not she wanted a free ad or to pay for service, and if she wanted a site specifically for lesbians or one that accepted all lifestyles. She finally decided on a popular site for lesbian and bisexual women, figuring she’d find the most success there. She also paid the required three-month fee so that she could initiate first contact if she chose.

  Next, we developed her ad. Nakia worked on the ad as if it were the thesis for her master’s degree, calling me numerous times throughout the day for the latest one- or two-word change. Seven revisions later, she was finally satisfied. Leaving subtleness behind, Kia titled her ad “Quench My Fire”—not an ad I would have overlooked, which was her goal, since she insisted on not submitting a photo. Her profile read:

  Mature, sophisticated diva seeks another to take me to a place I’ve never been. Can you do that for me? My curiosity is piqued, will you satisfy my unanswered question: can a woman do it better? If you’re clean and, above all, discreet, shoot me a line back and let’s talk about it.

  To me, nothing about Kia’s ad was mature or sophisticated, but that’s what she wanted. I didn’t think her words would meet the approval of the conservative dating service, but within twenty-four hours, her mission was underway.

  Over the next month, Nakia had rejected all of the responses she’d received for various reasons. Several of the women were in relationships and looking for a piece of ass on the side. A few of them wouldn’t send a photo unless she sent one first. The others were too old, too young, or just not on Kia’s level, according to her.

  I feared our friendship was nearing a danger zone as both our frustrations mounted, although for dissimilar reasons. Kia grew more antsy and horny with each day that passed without a successful connection. I was just sick of hearing her whine about the possibility of never getting some from a woman.

  Midway through month two, Shanna arrived. Within moments of checking her e-mail, Kia phoned me to her office, so I could review it with her and determine its fate. Would she delete it? Would she reply with a simple, “No, thanks”? Or would she finally be willing to give someone a try? Shanna’s e-mail was humorous and creatively answered Kia’s question.

  “How do I look?” Nakia swirled around in a new snug-fitting knee-length V-neck black dress
she purchased for her first date with Shanna, aka “Lickemlo.”

  It was only after an exchange of several e-mails did Kia learn Shanna’s hidden message: “Lick ’em low.” Rather than being turned off, Kia was that much more enticed.

  For me, this day couldn’t have arrived fast enough. “You look lovely, Nakia,” I told her. “Where are you going?”

  “To that little Indian spot by my house. If all goes well . . .” she said with a smirk.

  “Well, call me later, girl,” I said with a high-five.

  Nakia strolled out of my office like a woman about to find the answer to all life’s questions. I prayed the afternoon would prove to be a defining moment for her.

  LALA was hunched over the phone, looking exasperated, when I stopped at her desk to review the final details before I left for vacation.

  “Yes . . . I will. How much? . . . On the fifteenth? . . . Oh, right now?”

  I took two steps backward when I noticed her tear glistened eyes and the shaking hand holding the phone. Times like this I actually empathized with the girl. Numerous times I accidentally intruded on a call from a bill collector as LALA desperately tried to extend the length of time to pay her already past due debt. For that reason, my Christmas gift to her would be a monetary token this year. I hoped the card containing five crisp twenty-dollar bills would aid her in this latest mishap.

  LALA held her finger up to me, and embarrassed, continued to beg for leniency to the merciless debtor on the opposite end of the line.

  Sitting at my desk waiting for LALA allowed time for my mind to wander to Asia, as it so often did throughout the day. What was she doing? Were we thinking of each other at the same time? Lately my thoughts had ventured to my trip home and bringing Asia with me. Not even Steph had been introduced to my family as my “girlfriend.” Asia was the first to wear the official title. Was she as nervous as I was? She knew I hadn’t spent hardly a moment back at home since my new lifestyle emerged. As we lay in bed at night, she’d wave off my constant concerns of what would happen when we arrived to the dairy state.