by Desiree Day
She reached down into her purse and fished around for some change. The only things she came out with were two nickels, some pennies, a lipstick sample, and a bunch of lint. She could hear groans and muttering from the people behind her. Her billfold was on the bottom of her purse. She grabbed it and pulled out a five-dollar bill. “Does anybody have change for a five?” she asked in a hopeful voice, then added ammunition with her high-wattage smile. All she received was blank stares from the women and a couple of winks from the men. “Anybody?” she squeaked.
“Come on! We’ve got to get to work!” a lady shouted from the back of the bus.
“Sit down!” Jackson instructed, pointing to an empty seat.
“But—”
“Sit! You’re blocking the door.”
Stacie slid into the seat and turned to look out the window. Hattie was still standing on the sidewalk tucking her makeshift baby into her cart. The bus pulled away from the curb and Stacie continued to look at Hattie until she became a dot. Even though she hadn’t set foot in a church in years, Stacie got an overwhelming urge to talk to God.
“Heavenly Father, I know that I don’t talk to you unless I need something and this time it’s no different. I need your help, but it’s not for me, at least not all of it. Can you please make sure that the homeless lady finds a safe place to sleep and eat. Please take care of her baby, I’m sure she has one…somewhere. Amen,” Stacie murmured, then lifted her head. Her eyes were glassy, but her soul soared.
From his mirror, Jackson watched as Stacie closed her eyes and moved her lips in prayer. His eyes widened in surprise before he returned his attention back to the road. So the princess got a little religion in her, he mused. He glanced at her again, only to find her looking at him; their eyes locked, then he motioned to her.
“Stand right there,” Jackson instructed, and pointed to a pole behind him. “So why is the princess taking the bus? I thought it was beneath you?”
Stacie jumped as though she had been caught peeking. She had angled her head so that she could study his back. Every movement he made caused his muscles to ripple. “My car broke down,” she answered absentmindedly as her gaze moved down to his hands; she remembered how they felt on her body. She nervously cleared her throat. “Hey, I’m sorry about running out on you.”
Jackson shrugged. “It happens.”
She glanced at his reflection and their eyes momentarily locked and his lips turned into a knowing smile. A shiver of excitement shot through Stacie.
“I know,” he drawled. “I want a replay too.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Stacie denied.
“Yeah you do,” Jackson said, and gestured to her. Stacie brought her ear within a breath of his mouth. “Look down,” he demanded, glancing at his lap. Stacie followed his gaze and her mouth went dry. His desire was evident. “You’re not going to let this go to waste, are you?”
Stacie ran her tongue over her lips. “No…I’m not a wasteful person.”
“No you’re not, you took all of my energy that night and even recycled it.” Jackson chuckled and Stacie flushed. “I want you,” Jackson said. “Touch it,” he demanded as he expertly navigated the bus through his route.
“I can’t,” Stacie said. “Your passengers will see.”
“They’re not even paying attention to us. Just look.”
Stacie slowly turned around and casually looked over the passengers. Jackson was right; they were either reading something, talking, or staring out the window. “As soon as I do it somebody will look up and catch me.”
“It’s not like I’m gonna whip it out, I just want you to stroke it. Touch me like you did last time,” he asked, then winked and her pulsed raced.
Stacie peeked over her shoulder, then leaned even closer to Jackson. She discreetly dropped her hand in his lap, then let out a low moan; he was so hot. Her hand breezed over his pants and he lifted his hips a hair for contact. Using two fingers, Stacie firmly stroked the length of his shaft until it throbbed. She gently caressed his penis and outlined the head with her fingertip.
“See how badly I want to be inside you,” Jackson said, groaning softly.
“Make it bounce for me,” Stacie breathed.
Stacie’s stop zoomed up just as Jackson softly nipped her ear. “Oh baby, we’re gonna have some fun,” he promised before she rushed off the bus and into her office building.
25
Single Father’s Guide to Dating Tip #123
Sexing in public is never an option.
Jackson and Stacie were in Just Desserts, a small café he drove past every day. He was intrigued with the oversize muffins, giant cinnamon buns and flaky croissants that the customers munched as they sauntered out the door. Something about the name and the tables and chairs on the sidewalk told him that the place was classy enough for Stacie. He was right.
They were tucked into a corner, a tiny U-shaped nook in the back of the shop. It wasn’t a privacy issue, the little shop was almost empty with only four of its twelve tables filled; Jackson picked it because of its coziness. She was sitting so close to Jackson that she was almost on his lap.
Jackson gave Stacie a sidelong look out of the corner of his eyes. It’ll take only a minute for me to lift her up so that she can wrap those long legs of hers around my waist, he mused.
Keeping a close eye on him, Stacie waited until Jackson finished his coffee and ordered a second cup before she felt it was safe to talk about what had been bothering her.
She took a deep breath, then said, “I don’t mean to keep repeating myself, but I just have to say it. I didn’t mean to run out on you that morning.”
Jackson brought his coffee cup up to his mouth to hide his smile; he’d wondered how long it would be before she brought that night up again. Taking his time, he took a long sip of his coffee. “I know, you told me on the bus. But it’s cool. All we did was hit it a couple of times. It wasn’t a big deal,” he lied. It was the best sex he’d had in his life. Ever since that night, it replayed itself over and over in his head.
“What!” Stacie yelled. “So you think all we did was ‘hit it’? That’s a shitty thing to say,” she hissed, slumping down in her chair.
“Isn’t that how you saw it?” he asked. “Or maybe I was just a piece of dick? Or maybe I was a stress reliever for you? Or maybe it was something to do until the next movie came on.” Stacie didn’t respond, but she sat up, crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him. “It had to be something trivial like that, otherwise you wouldn’t have just walked out on me afterward,” he finished.
“I admit what I did was tacky as hell. But it didn’t mean that what happened between us didn’t matter.”
Jackson studied her over his coffee mug. “So what I’m hearing is that you liked what happened between us?” he asked, surprised. He could barely suppress the smile that had snuck onto his face.
“Since when did you become a Dr. Phil knockoff?” She laughed at her own joke, then said shyly, “I liked what happened between us. I really liked it,” she giggled nervously. She felt bold and vulnerable at the same time. The only person she had admitted her feelings about Jackson to was Tameeka. “But it wasn’t all about the dick—oops!” She clamped her hand over her mouth and her face flushed hotly. Ugh, I’m such a potty mouth! Jackson nodded for her to continue.
“Well…like I was saying, it’s not about the…dick with you. It’s big and everything and you can whip it on a sistah, but you have qualities that a lot of brothers lack.”
Jackson smiled mischievously, then reached over and traced his finger down her jawbone. “Like knowing what makes you hot?”
“I didn’t say skills, I said qualities.” Stacie sighed softly as her nipples hardened, and a throbbing started between her legs.
“Oh! So you’re saying that I got over-the-top skills too?” Jackson seductively asked as he leaned over and blew warm air in her ear; Stacie let out a soft moan as her eyes closed.
“Do that a
gain,” Stacie pleaded as she gripped his thigh. “Ooh, I love that,” she purred as she snuggled against him. Jackson glanced down at her face and immediately got hard. Her expression was total sex.
Jackson gently probed her ear with his tongue. “So when am I gonna get that replay?”
“Whenever you—”
“Excuse me!” Stacie’s eyes popped open to find their waitress wearing an amused expression; embarrassed, Stacie quickly shoved Jackson away. “There’s a motel, three blocks down,” the waitress announced before sauntering away.
“Isn’t it funny,” Stacie began in a shaky voice, “that whenever we’re together we can’t keep our hands off each other. My apartment…the bus…here.”
“We’re fire, baby,” Jackson answered, giving her a quick kiss.
“I need to straighten up,” she said, then made her way to the bathroom. Halfway across the room, she looked back at Jackson, who was calmly sipping his coffee. He looked in her direction, then gave her a sexy wink.
“I’m just sorry about what I did,” Stacie said when she was back in the booth. Her statement was met with silence. Jackson was pouring himself a third cup of coffee. “Well…” She looked at him imploringly.
“What?” Jackson set his coffee down, confused. “You don’t have to apologize just because we almost sexed in public.”
Stacie shook her head and rolled her eyes. “Not that. I’m talking about when I ran out on you. Do you accept my apology?” she repeated.
“I accept your apology,” he said, then a thought occurred to him. “You apologize, you tell me how much you admire me, but you still haven’t told me why you ran.”
“Huh?” Stacie asked, pretending that she didn’t hear him. When she knew that he wasn’t buying her deaf act, she said, “Aw hell…why does anybody run?” she asked, then answered her own question. “People run because they’re scared. And you scared me,” she admitted in a soft voice tinged with embarrassment.
“Me?” Jackson was so shocked that he pointed to his chest. “Me?” he repeated. All he remembered was the smart-ass lady who couldn’t keep her mouth shut. Nowhere in the picture was she a cowering mass of nerves. “I told you then, I didn’t mean to hit your arm—”
“No-no-no, that was me. I was all attracted to you and didn’t know how to act. I had this fine man up in my apartment and my brain went to mush. I think I fell for you the first time I saw you…at Houston’s. I didn’t want to admit it to myself and then when you turned out to be Tyrell’s best friend…” She laughed softly, remembering. “Then when we went out to dinner and you kept coming at me with stuff, I wanted to kill you. Then later at the apartment, after we made love, I was completely blown away. You touched my heart,” she admitted. “So do you feel better now? Miss Spoiled Brat has feelings,” she said, and lost her face in her mug of hot chocolate.
“I do,” Jackson whispered, and Stacie snapped her head up. “Because I feel the same way,” he admitted, and Stacie broke out in a smile. “So what does all this mean?” Jackson probed.
“Well, we definitely like each other,” Stacie said slowly, unsure of what he was asking.
“That’s apparent,” Jackson said. “Do you think it would be a good idea for us to hang out and see what happens?” he asked.
“I’d like that.” Stacie blushed, then looked up.
“Me too,” Jackson whispered and grinned. It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her all about his baby momma drama, but not wanting to damage their newly found friendship, he decided against it.
26
The Sand on the Other Beach Isn’t Whiter, It Only Has a Different Set of Shells
Hey Meek!”
Startled, Tameeka whirled around to see Mohammad standing on the other side of the register. She hadn’t seen him since she had taken her key back from him.
“Damn, Mo, you shouldn’t sneak up on a sistah. How the hell did you get in here?”
“I’m magic.” He grinned at Tameeka’s scowl. “You left the door unlocked,” he explained. “You’d better keep it locked. You know Mr. Wang? Well, he was robbed a couple days ago.”
“Oh, no!” Tameeka exclaimed. “How’s he doing?” She liked Mr. Wang and loved browsing in his store; he had the most exquisite knickknacks.
“I heard he’s okay, but he had to stay in the hospital overnight. The robber did a number on him.”
“Oh boy. You’re not safe anywhere.”
“I don’t like it that you’re here by yourself in the mornings.”
Now that you’re not spending them with me, Tameeka wanted to say. Instead she said, “I usually have the door locked and the alarm on. I don’t know why I forgot today. But anyway, Bea is coming in early.” Just then, Bea walked in and pleasantries were exchanged before she went into the back to her locker.
“So how’s your thing going?” Mohammad asked nonchalantly once they were alone again.
“Tyrell is not a thing. And it’s—we are going very well,” Tameeka boasted. “We have direction, we’re on a path.”
“That’s funny, sounds like you two are Lewis and Clark.”
“What do you know about Lewis and Clark? You told me you slept through history,” she teased.
“I learned a lot in school, especially about keeping away from snooty women like you,” he retorted.
“Snooty!” Tameeka shouted, then plucked up a bar of soap and lobbed it at him. Mohammad ducked and it dropped at Bea’s feet just as she stepped onto the selling floor. Tameeka flushed deeply. “I’m sorry, Bea,” she stuttered, then glared at Mohammad, who was biting back laughter.
“No problem,” Bea said, then plucked the soap off the floor and tossed it to Tameeka. She dropped it in the bin, then looked down at her watch; she still had a snatch of time to meditate before the store opened.
Foregoing the mat, she sat in the middle of the floor and got into position. Mohammad quickly followed suit and settled down next to her. Tameeka closed her eyes and ignored him.
“I’m sorry if I got you in trouble,” he whispered. Even though Bea was on the other side of the store, he didn’t want to risk her hearing him.
“I didn’t get in trouble,” Tameeka bristled. But she thought: Even though I had to promise to stop seeing you. “Like I said earlier, we’re cool.”
“I made a mistake,” Mohammad admitted.
“I hope you aren’t talking about the crotch thing…that’s over with. It’s forgotten.”
Mohammad shook his head. “Not that,” he started, then said softly, “Open your eyes.” Tameeka’s heart fluttered, but she kept her eyes closed. “Open sesame,” Mohammad coaxed, and Tameeka reluctantly lifted her lids. He reached out and cupped her face between his hands and looked deeply into her eyes. “I made a mistake with us.”
“What do you mean?” Tameeka asked, confused. “You don’t want to be my friend anymore?” she asked.
A smile danced around Mohammad’s mouth. “I do…but I want for us to be more. I want you back in my life.”
Tameeka vigorously shook her head while pushing herself off the floor. “No! We’ve been there, Mo. We both know that we make better friends than lovers.”
“I’ve grown up,” Mohammad answered. “I’m ready to settle down. And I want to do it with you.”
“No!” Tameeka repeated, then went to the counter, where she absentmindedly arranged lip balms. “You only want me because I’m in a happy relationship.”
“If it’s so happy, why didn’t you tell him about me?” Mohammad countered.
“I did tell him…I just forgot to tell him that you worked right above me. Besides, our thing didn’t mean anything.”
“Is that so?” His eyes suddenly darkened. Bea was forgotten as he leaned in and outlined her lips with his tongue. Tameeka felt a rush between her legs. Kissing Mohammad was like kissing a tornado; he’d suck you up, then leave you swirling for days. Tameeka opened her lips and Mohammad tenderly slipped his tongue in and she tentatively welcomed it. Mohammad slipped his hands up
into her hair, running his fingers through it. A sigh escaped from between Tameeka’s lips; Mohammad remembered that she loved to have her scalp touched. Her arms snaked around his neck as she deepened the kiss. Mohammad backed her up against the counter, and slowly and deliberately ground his hips against hers. He pulled away and looked into Tameeka’s desire-drenched eyes. “So that didn’t mean anything?” he demanded.
“It didn’t mean anything,” Tameeka squeaked.
27
I Hate My Job…But I Need It, Because…
I have a bazillion bills to pay
I’m not sure if I can do anything else
I can do it with my eyes closed
I’ve been a receptionist for eight freaking long years
Stacie stared out of the bus’s window at the traffic. Atlanta’s traffic problem was legendary, but this? In front of her were two lanes of traffic that stretched four miles long. Jackson’s dispatcher had called with the bad news: an overturned tractor-trailer had dumped hundreds of gallons of gasoline on I-75, Atlanta’s artery, and closed it down. Everybody and their momma was taking the surface streets to downtown Atlanta.
She glanced down at her watch and swallowed a scream. She had less than ten minutes to make it to work, and her building was nowhere in sight. Stacie fixed her gaze hopelessly on the lines of cars. The street was packed tighter than Pamela Anderson’s bra.
Staring out at the parking lot of cars, Stacie could feel her job slipping further out of her grasp. Every couple of minutes the bus would inch forward a few yards, just enough to raise Stacie’s hopes, only to have them shot down when the bus was forced again to stop.
Frustrated, Stacie blew out a stream of air. Andre’s threat hung heavily over her head. She had to keep her job. The stack of bills that were due this month flashed before her eyes and her stomach tightened nervously. “I can’t lose my job,” she whispered.
“I’m sorry, baby, I can’t go anywhere. We’re stuck like pigs in a pile of quicksand,” Jackson said hopelessly. He didn’t mind the traffic, he was used to it, it came with the job. But he hated what it was doing to Stacie and he wished that he could get her to work.