by Carl Weber
“What is going on here?” LeRoi asked.
Crystal sounded smug when she said, “The reason Darnel is here and Keisha isn’t is because she didn’t have the nerve to show up after what she did to him.”
“What are you talking about?” Gloria sounded close to tears.
“I guess ain’t nobody told you that Darnel caught that slut of yours in bed with his best man last night, did they? Oh yeah, she’s a real class act, that daughter of yours.”
Gloria seemed to be at a loss for words as she turned toward her husband. I couldn’t help but wonder if they’d had an inkling all along that their daughter was no angel. If someone had called my little girl a slut like that, I would have been all over them, but Gloria and LeRoi, while they looked sad, really didn’t look shocked. The guests who had stayed around to witness the drama, however, did.
Gloria’s tears flowed freely now as she leaned against her husband and sobbed. He tried his best to comfort her, but the two of them looked almost as upset as Darnel at this point.
Now that the Jerry Springer–like intensity of the episode between Gloria and Crystal was over, people had started whispering among themselves again. Slowly, they began rising from their seats and heading down the aisle toward the exit. I was sure that most of them would stand around outside and chew on this juicy piece of gossip for a while. I doubted it would make much difference to them, but I stood and made an announcement.
“I’d like to thank all of you for coming here today.” Many people stopped and turned to look at me when I started speaking. “And I apologize for the unfortunate change of plans.” Someone laughed at my choice of words, but I continued anyway, hoping my speech would deter some of the more vicious gossip. At the very least, I hoped people would have the decency to leave church grounds before they started talking, to spare Darnel from having to hear it all.
“I would like to thank you in advance for your support and your kind words. We know that you were here with the best of intentions and that you will keep these young people in your prayers.”
A few people nodded their heads in a kind gesture of support, while others averted their eyes, looking like I had just read their minds and called them out on the enjoyment they were getting from someone else’s heartbreak.
When I turned to face my family, I noticed that Darnel was exiting the church through a side door. I followed him to make sure he didn’t go do anything foolish.
Jamie
6
By the time I arrived home, it was almost five in the afternoon. My hope was that my boyfriend, Louis, would be up to making me something to eat before I jumped in bed for some well-deserved rest. I ’d been up since seven o’clock the previous morning, and the only reason I hadn’t fallen out was because of all the drama that Darnel was going through. I’m not gonna lie; if he wasn’t my brother, I would have enjoyed that scene at the church like I was watching a good soap opera. You know the kind where you don’t want to look away because you might miss something good.
I really did feel bad for my brother, though. As if spending the night in jail weren’t trouble enough, I know Darnel just wanted to shrivel up and die when we got to the church and he had to explain that the wedding was being canceled.
Keisha, of course, was nowhere to be found. She didn’t even have the guts to let her people know what was going on, so Darnel had to tell them. She would get hers, though, when she ran into her mother and father. They had laid out a bundle of money on the wedding, flowers, and reception—most of which, I’m sure, was nonrefundable. I ’d heard Darnel tell his mom that they had to take out a home equity loan to pay for it, so you know they were gonna want to knock her upside the head. Just wish I could be there to see it.
Oh, and on a personal note, I was gonna make sure that trifling wench gave me back my three hundred dollars for that ugly-ass purple bridesmaid’s dress I had to buy.
I’ll tell you, some women need to get their asses whipped just for sheer stupidity. What the hell kinda woman sleeps with her fiancé’s best man the night before her wedding, especially when she’s got a guy as fine as Darnel willing to marry her? Marrying the guy who took your virginity is like something straight out of a romance novel. Add in the fact that he’s been faithful, loving, and true to you for ten years—oh, and let’s not leave out the fact he’s got a good J-O-B—and you’ve damn near got yourself Prince Charming. Keisha just didn’t know that guys like Darnel only come around once in a lifetime.
Speaking of once-in-a-lifetime men, I had a damn good man myself in Louis. The second I walked in the house and closed the door, he greeted me with soft, passionate kisses that made me forget all about my hunger for food and ignited my hunger for him.
“Well, well, well, I think you missed me.” I laughed as I ran my hands along his bare, muscular chest.
He didn’t answer me with words but let his actions speak for him. He guided me until my back was against the door, moving his succulent kisses down to my neck. I let out a long moan when his tongue tickled my earlobe.
“Oh my God, that’s the spot,” I murmured, like he didn’t know it. Louis always knew how to get me going, but more importantly, he knew how to keep me there.
He slid his hands under my skirt and pushed my panties down until I could step out of them. I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him passionately. He took hold of my ass, lifting me off the ground. I wrapped my legs around his thighs, pulling him in close until I felt his hard penis grinding into the triangle between my legs.
I closed my eyes. “Mmm, that feels so good.” I kissed his lips, sucking on his tongue as it darted into my mouth. The pleasure I was feeling from his constant grinding was making me wet beyond belief. But I didn’t just want to be wet; I wanted to explode, and grinding just wasn’t going to do it.
Louis knew what I needed. He might not have been my first, but he was without question the best I ’d ever had, especially when it came to oral sex. The only question now was how he would get there from the position we were in.
As if he had read my mind, his strong arms lifted my hundred-and-twenty-pound frame higher, like we were in some kind of sexual ballet. My body slid up the door while he kissed down my neck to my breasts, where he gave each of my nipples the proper attention they needed. When both my girls were standing at attention, he lifted me farther until my legs could rest on his shoulders. I braced my upper back against the door, and he held my thighs with his arms.
I barely gave him enough time to get himself set before I took hold of his head, guiding his face to my treasure chest.
“Oooo, la, la! That’s it, baby. Keep doing it just like that and you gonna make me explode. Mmm, mmm, mmm, that’s what I’m talkin’ ’bout.”
We’d never done anything like this before, and if I had given it any thought at the time, I probably would have made him put me down for fear of falling. But that’s one of the reasons why I loved Louis so much. He was spontaneous, and ever since our first time together, he’d always known how to bring out the inner freak in me.
I ’d met Louis in the craziest way about eight months ago on my way home from work. That night, I had worked late and caught the subway home. I usually don’t do subways, but at that time, I was waiting for Daddy to buy me a new car. I ’d had a Honda Accord I got for my college graduation but sold it to one of my exes for peanuts when I saw how cute I looked in Daddy’s new Lexus. He was pissed off when he heard I sold my car, but I knew it was just a matter of time before the two of us went down to the dealership so that he could buy me a new car. I’m sure he thought he was teaching me a lesson, but Daddy always gave in eventually. So I was stuck taking the subway until then.
The night I met Louis, the subway was nearly empty where I got off the F train on Hillside and 154th Street. While I was coming out of the station, a hooded man swooped down, grabbed my purse, and started running. It happened so fast that at first I didn’t know what had hit me. But because the purse was hooked up under my arm, the man pulled
me down to the ground with the force of his impact and began dragging me. I heard the sound of my pantyhose ripping and felt the burning pain from my knees scraping against the cement.
“Let it go, bitch!” I’m not sure if it was his fist or his foot, but something hit my head hard.
“Help me! Please, help me!” I screamed, but no one came to my rescue.
“Shut up, bitch!” he barked, then hit me again.
He wound up dragging me to a nearby alley. He was infuriated because he thought I wasn’t giving up the purse. But I didn’t give a damn about the purse; he could have it. I just needed him to give me a chance to untangle the strap from my arm.
“Gimme the purse, bitch,” he demanded, and then he did something unexpected: He dropped his end of the purse. I was confused for a split second, until I realized why he’d done it. That’s when things became truly terrifying. He reached into his pocket, and I saw the glint of his knife. He raised it up high over his head, and I just knew I was getting ready to die over fifty dollars and a Coach bag.
Suddenly, this stranger dashed forward into the alley. “Put that fucking knife down!” the man yelled, then threw a series of punches at my attacker. It all happened in a matter of seconds, but it was truly like watching an action movie. I watched my protector hit my attacker with blow after blow. Stunned, my attacker released his grip on the knife, then staggered backward as my Good Samaritan picked it up.
“Get the fuck outta here!” he yelled.
The hooded man scuttled off down the alley, limping and holding his side.
“Are you okay?” the kind stranger asked as he lifted me up off the ground.
It took me a minute, but I finally said, trembling, “Yeah, I’m okay. Thank you.” I looked down. My stockings were torn, my knees were all bloody, and my body felt like one big bruise. But I was alive.
“I was driving by and saw what happened. I’m sorry it took me so long, but I wasn’t sure if it was … you know, domestic. I’ve seen women attack a brother for messing with their boyfriends, even if the brother was trying to save them.”
Looking back on it now, I know it was probably a stupid thing for him to say. I mean, the man was dragging me down the sidewalk on my knees, for God’s sake! But at the time, I was too grateful to be mad at his comment, so I didn’t respond to it. Instead, I said, “We should call the police.”
“Nah, police ain’t gonna do nothing. That dude’s long gone, and all they gonna have us do is waste the rest of the night filling out paperwork and looking at mug shots. I didn’t even get a good look at his face. Did you?”
“No, I was too busy trying to get him to stop hitting mine.”
“Don’t worry about it. Trust me; the ass whipping I just put on him is gonna stay with him much longer than a couple of days at Rikers Island. I don’t think he’s going to be mugging anybody anytime soon.” He picked up my purse and handed it to me. “Look, you sure you okay? Can I give you a ride home? Do you need to go to the hospital or anything?”
I wasn’t sure if I could trust him, but since I was alone and he did just rescue me, I figured I could take a chance. And I felt even safer when he folded the knife up and threw it in a garbage can. The way he looked—all tall, dark, and handsome—he kind of reminded me of my father.
“I could use a ride home,” I said. “I don’t live far from here.”
“Come on. My car’s this way.”
When we got to my house, we ended up sitting in his car talking for about two hours. It turned out he lived around the corner, about three blocks from me. We exchanged phone numbers, and a week later we went out to dinner at T.G.I. Friday’s in Long Island. I was really digging him. We had chemistry, and he made me feel safe, something only my father and brother had done in the past. And now, eight months later, we were tighter than ever. Four months ago, I moved in. One day, I planned on marrying him.
Thirty minutes after I arrived home, Louis and I were lying naked on the living room floor, covered by the blanket I kept on the sofa for when we watched TV together. My head was resting on his shoulder while my fingers played with the small patch of hair on his chest. I ’d gotten everything I wanted and more out of the past half hour. And from the way Louis was breathing and the satisfied grin on his face, I think he got what he was looking for too.
“So what happened with your brother?” Louis asked.
“Well, right now Darnel’s facing felony assault charges. Possibly manslaughter if Omar doesn’t pull through. My dad called the hospital, and they say he’s in intensive care.”
“Damn, he beat him like that? He really loved her ass.”
“Please, you beat a man half to death over me.”
“First off,” Louis explained, “he had a knife, so I had to do what I did. Second, you wasn’t my girl back then. I was just a Good Samaritan trying to save your life.”
I slapped his chest, then rolled away from him, pretending to be offended. “So you wouldn’t try to kill a man if you caught me sleeping with him?” I sucked my teeth. “I knew it. You don’t love me like my brother loved Keisha.”
“What?” He rolled on top of me, his eyes glued to mine. “Let’s get something straight. Not only would I try to kill someone if I caught you in bed with him, but I ’d finish the fuckin’ job.” I was shocked by his tone, because while I ’d only been playing with him, he sounded completely serious. “I love you. Do we understand each other?”
He’d never spoken to me this way before, and something inside told me maybe I should be a little worried, but I wasn’t. To tell the truth, I was turned on by the fact that someone loved me so much that he might kill another man.
“Do we understand each other?” he repeated.
I nodded my head, and he leaned down to kiss me. I opened my mouth and returned his passion, letting him slip between my legs so that he would know just how much I understood.
James
7
“Can I get some more sugar?” I asked the waitress in the twenty-four-hour diner as she set down a cup of coffee in front of me.
She put her hand on her hips and gave me a devilish smile. “Want me to put my finger in it? That’ll be much sweeter,” she flirted.
I smiled as I thought about just how easy this was. Sometimes, all I had to do was walk into a room and women were making moves on me. It’s like I gave off some sort of scent—Man Who Loves Women cologne—and it got their juices flowing immediately.
“You don’t want to go there with me,” I told her, and I wasn’t kidding. Just like any time a woman flirted with me, I got right to the point. I was always honest with women about my intentions, ever since I got busted lying to two women in high school. I wasn’t trying to hurt nobody just to get laid, so I never hid the fact that I wasn’t looking for a wife or even a girlfriend. I liked women—a variety of women—too much to give up my freedom.
The funny thing was, the truth got me much further than the lies I ’d heard some men tell. Sure, some women walked away once they figured out I wasn’t going to get on the husband track, but many others seemed to welcome the challenge. This waitress was in that group.
“Oh, and why don’t I want to go there?” She hadn’t moved to get my sugar. “Maybe it’s the other way around and you don’t want to go there with me.”
“Is that right?” I flirted back. If a woman didn’t turn and run once I set out my rules, then I figured it was game on.
“Yep. I’m like a drug. Some people get addicted to cigarettes, some to drugs, or gambling, or whatever. But any man who’s ever had a taste of this ends up addicted to me.”
I like a woman with confidence, and I must say, this one had my imagination running wild with the things I planned to do to her once we got past these preliminary games. The way she was eyeing me, I already knew where this conversation would end up—in my bedroom.
“Yeah, I can say the same thing about myself,” I bragged. “I’ve never had a complaint department. Only satisfied customers.”
She
laughed.
“Oh, you think I’m kidding?” I said. The self-satisfied smirk stayed on her face, so I explained, “I’m just try’na tell you I got skills of my own, so I ain’t one of those men you can whip it on and then I’ll be ready to take it to the next level.”
“Is that right?” she said, sounding doubtful.
“That’s right. I got one level and that’s that. I don’t chase after women. I don’t call. I’m just not a one-woman man.”
“Well, you ain’t had none of this yet,” she argued. “Once you try some of my sugar, you’re gonna change your tune.”
I shook my head. “I doubt it. I have yet to meet a woman with paradise between her legs.”
This woman was definitely excited by my challenge. I swear I saw her nipples harden through her uniform. I checked her name tag, which told me her name was Salli Reid. My eyes told me Salli Reid had it going on underneath that uniform. She might not have paradise between her legs, but I had no doubt it was still some treasure. She wasn’t traditionally beautiful, but she had legs that went all the way up to an ass so perfect you could sit a cup of coffee on it and it would stay hot all day long. Then she had this tiny waist, which reminded me of one of those old-fashioned cartoons, and a nice firm rack that I’m sure kept her tips coming.
I was quite sure she was telling the truth when she said, “I got guys I knew in high school still try’na get another taste.”
“Mmm-hmm,” I answered, allowing my eyes to roam freely over her figure. “I’m sure you do. But that’s not me, sweetheart.”
She stared me straight in the eyes, clearly up for my challenge. “You get a taste of this and I ain’t got to worry about you calling me.” She took a napkin off my table and wrote on it. She slid it to me and said, “I get off in an hour. Call me.” Then she finally went to get some sugar for my coffee—even though I wasn’t even interested in my breakfast now that I had such a tasty dessert to look forward to.