Ladies Listen Up

by Darren Coleman

  “I’m twenty-four.”

  “Okay, you’ve got it. Dr. C. is on the line,” Janet said. “What’s your question?”

  “Hey, Dr. C.”

  “Hey, Trumaine.”

  “My question is this. I’ve been seeing this guy for about six months now and he doesn’t seem to trust me. He’s always accusing me of going out with other people. Granted, I do like to hang out from time to time, on the weekends. I like to dance. He doesn’t. But the thing is this. If I’m out past midnight, he blows my phone up to the point where I’m embarrassed in front of my friends. To top it off, last week I was at his house and I found a piece of hair that wasn’t mine. He said that he didn’t know where it could have come from. What do you think? I mean, would he be jealous if he was interested in seeing other people?”

  “Good question, Trumaine,” Janet said.

  “Yeah, it is. Trumaine, let me break this down for you. Your man has trust issues and they come from one of two things. Either he was hurt in the past, or he has a guilty conscience. Or both.”

  “Guilty conscience. So you think he’s cheating?”

  “I didn’t say that. But a lot of times when you’re stealing, you think everyone’s a thief. Get it? Because of his own behavior or experiences, past or present, he believes everyone is capable of creeping. Now the issue is this. That hair didn’t just come from thin air. We always know where that hair, that bobby pin, that rubber band…whatever. We always know where it came from. But there’s no such thing as the perfect crime. So maybe you should step back from this relationship for a while. Let him address his issues while you enjoy dancing. You two might not be compatible in the long run anyway.”

  “Thanks so much.”

  “Thank you for calling.”

  “Wow,” Janet said. “I just learned something, folks. So you always know where the evidence came from?”

  I laughed. “Yeaaaahhh, but we’ll never admit that. Ladies, you’ll need a head attached to the strand of hair to make it stick, though.” We both laughed.

  “Next on the line we have Yvette. What’s good, Mami?”

  “Not much. I’ve been in a bit of a rough spot. I had a little girl a couple years ago, and since then I’ve been overweight. I don’t really feel good about myself. My husband is constantly reminding me about how fat I am. He hardly ever wants to touch me, and when he does, it never feels like he’s trying to please me. It’s more like he’s in a rush to finish.”

  Janet cut her off. “You sayin’ the sex has changed? He used to be a caring lover? Attentive to your needs, but since the weight gain he’s different.”

  “Yes, that’s gone out the window. But recently, there’s this guy at my job who has shown a lot of interest in me. He tells me I’m pretty and buys me lunch…I’m not really attracted to this guy, but he does make me feel good. I wish my husband could—”

  “Let me interject, Yvette. You need to communicate with your man. Tell him how bad he makes you feel. When he makes you feel bad, what do you do?”

  “I cry. And then I eat.”

  “I figured that. First thing you might need to do is get some counseling. Then go to your doctor and find out if there is anything physically wrong with you that is either (a), making you gain weight, or (b), going to prevent you from working out. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying that there is anything wrong with you because you’ve put on a few pounds, but if you want to stay with this man, then you need to try to do this for him. Because there is nothing wrong with him because he prefers a thinner you, ya feel me? Now, if you try your hardest and cannot get a grip on your weight, then maybe he’s too shallow for you, and at that point, it may be time to move on and find someone who will accept you for you, and not what size you wear, ’cause believe me, there are a lot of men who love a plus-sized sister. My buddy Emmitt for one.”

  Janet played a little John Legend, Jill Scott, then some Isley Brothers. We laughed and joked between the callers. “It’s really interesting hearing a man’s approach. I notice that you tend to say, ‘Try this, if this don’t work, then fuck it, leave,’” she said, and we both laughed. “That’s a male’s logic for you. But you got to remember one thing.”

  “What’s that?”

  “People are listening. You have a lot of people’s attention now, and you’re going to get more, so you have to be responsible for the things you say. They are going to take a lot of what you say or write as gospel. You’re in print. You’re on the radio. You must be an expert. That’s how people think.”

  We finished up the show and Janet appeared shocked at how the lines stayed lit up. “You were a hit tonight. A great show. I’ll have to get you back on.”

  “I’d love to come. I enjoyed it immensely.”

  I was driving home when my phone rang. It was my brother, Lee. “Man, I heard you on the air. You sounded great. Almost like you knew what you were talking about.”

  “Thanks, man. It was so cool. I never told anyone, but I always wanted to be on the radio.”

  “I remember you saying that when you were a kid.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, you loved music. You used to sit by the radio and wait for your favorite songs to come on, then you’d smash the record button once the DJ stopped talking. That was how you’d make your mix tapes.” He laughed.

  It kind of came back to me. “Yeah, I’d get pissed when they talked through my favorite songs.”

  “Those were the days,” he said, his voice suddenly solemn. “But I just wanted to tell you I was proud of you.”

  “Thanks.” I wanted to ask him how everything had turned out as far as he and Nicole was concerned, but he cut the conversation short when she began yelling in the background. “What’s her problem?” I asked. I was beginning to hate her.

  “Who knows? I’ma run…talk at you soon,” he said, and then I heard a click.

  At work the following day, I realized that my perspective was beginning to change. I’d cashed three checks from Girl Talk Inc. and now I finally realized what it felt like to have a little extra cash. I wanted more. I thought about the things that Janet Divine had said to me. I was an expert, so why shouldn’t I be getting paid like one? It was indeed my time to make moves.

  At first I’d been on a high just to have gotten the column; now I realized that I was making the magazine rich. I had a gift. Those responses were mine. They came from my mind, my heart, and as a result of my very costly life experiences. I’d fucked up so much that the right and wrong ways were so apparent to me. Now this didn’t mean that I would always do right. I was starting to believe that I might not have been programmed for that, but I sure as hell could tell the next person what to do.

  While promoting myself on the air, I was promoting Girl Talk, too. I spent the morning watching my students as much as I did teaching them. Something inside of me told me that I’d be moving on soon. And even though I believed it would be to greener pastures, there was a sadness in my heart. I loved the kids. I needed them. They needed me.

  “Good morning,” Lanelle said for the second time as she poked her head in my door and winked. She was looking incredibly sexy. She had on a short leather skirt and a fitted white dress shirt. When I walked over to her I looked right down her shirt and took notice of her black lace bra.

  “Looking good, Ma.” I paused and took a sniff. “Smelling good, too. I wonder how it taste.”

  “You can’t even imagine,” she said seductively. The kids hardly took notice of our flirting at the door. They were more interested in who was coloring the best.

  “Wanna bet? I bet it taste like peaches,” I said with a low laugh.

  “Don’t forget the cream.”

  “Damn, you making me hungry.”

  “And you making me horny.”

  “Well, why don’t you come and let me have you for lunch, and I do mean have you.”

  “Nigga, you ain’t built like that. You aren’t ready for that kind of experience. I told you that you’d be getting
it soon. Tonight’s the night.”

  “Oh, you must have me wrong. I’ll light you up like a Christmas tree right there on that desk. You just give me a half a chance.”

  “Yeah, whatever. Save that energy for tonight, ’cause if you disappoint…I will clown you.” Lanelle smiled and headed to the music room to pick up her students.

  I went back to my work. I watched the clock as it ticked toward lunch. I was planning to call Jonetta and tell her about the show last night and to ask for a raise. I had an hour to go, so I took a minute and looked at my e-mail.

  Diego,

  How you gonna be on the radio giving out some damned advice. You are about the saddest case I can imagine. Someone needs to give you some advice. You got the nerve to suggest someone get some counseling. Have you gotten any? You can’t keep your dick in your pants and one of these days it’s gonna catch up to you. One day, Diego. You’ll get yours.

  And whatever issues you have must be contagious because your boy, the broke-ass Maxwell wannabe, he’s fucked up, too. He’s fucking high-schoolers now. Both your days are numbered.

  My hands were trembling after I read the message. I wanted to punch someone. I didn’t appreciate the threats at all. And who in the hell was mocha2munch? I chalked it up to some retard’s idea of a joke. But I did plan on calling Jacob later to find out if he had any clues. “Effing haters,” I said aloud as I stood up to collect the students’ work.

  At eleven-thirty, I took the kids to the cafeteria, and on the way down I saw Lanelle heading my way with a mischievous look on her face. When we passed she stuck her hands in my pocket and then whispered, “Don’t look until you drop the kids off.”

  My pace quickened and I hurried back toward the teachers’ bathrooms after getting my class seated in the lunchroom. I barely made it into the men’s room before I pulled out the contents of my pocket.

  A smile came across my face when I held the black lace thong up to my face. I smelled it and my dick grew hard instantly. There was the unmistakable odor of womanhood. Casting aside any foolish ideas about what a clean vagina smells like, I love the smell of pussy. I loved eating pussy and I loved the way the moisture felt on my face once I’d made a woman cum.

  I sped out of the bathroom like Superman leaving a phone booth. When I made it to the steps to head upstairs, I heard a banging sound. Thinking it was a student, I was annoyed that my trip was being delayed. I was going to find Lanelle and, at the least, was going to finger her insanely.

  I looked over at the door and saw none other than Grump. He was waving frantically. I moved briskly to the door and he entered quickly. I looked at him strangely. He didn’t seem himself. “Thanks, man. You want some chicken?” he asked.

  The nigga always had some chicken. “Nah, I’m good. And don’t send me any.”

  “Cool,” he said as he pulled on the door and headed for the cafeteria.

  I looked in my classroom first and saw that my lights were still off, and then I peeped in Lanelle’s room and didn’t see any sign of her. Perhaps all she’d planned was to arouse me and get me even more wound up for the evening than I was already.

  As I walked back into my room preparing to get my lunch, I found her sitting on top of my desk. She startled me. “You were in here the whole time?”

  She nodded. “In the dark…waiting for you.” The room wasn’t actually dark. But with the blinds closed, it was dim.

  I moved toward her. “So what’s up?” I asked.

  “You’re the one doing all the talking. We don’t have much time. If you can hit it quick, I’ll give you a pass this time.”

  Hearing her say that sent a rush through my body. I was now on her, kissing her neck, causing her to moan. My hands went up her thighs and found her mound. “Ahhhhh,” she breathed out.

  I dropped to my knees. “Keep your ears open.” My room was the last one at the end of a hallway and you could hear anyone who approached, most of the time.

  Time was of the essence, so I wasted little as I placed my face in between her legs. I had to slide her skirt up so that she could spread her legs. She did so willingly. The first taste was as sweet as I’d imagined, and even juicier. When I pulled my tongue a string of her juices and my saliva came with me. “Mmm, you’re wet.”

  “Yeaahhhh,” she said quietly. “That means keep goin’.” She scooted her ass closer to the edge of the desk.

  My tongue was finding its mark as she began to whimper. “Dammit,” she cried out.

  “Use your fingers. Spread it open for me so I can get that clit.”

  She obliged, and with the first direct swipe of my tongue across her exposed clit, she let out a “Damn, boy.”

  It took less than two minutes before she started knocking shit off my desk. First my tape dispenser, then a bunch of papers flew off. When her orgasm hit her, my paper clips and the tray I kept my folders on were next. “I’m cummmmin’, I’m cummm…in’…ahhh…ahhhh…ohhhhh.”

  I didn’t let her finish. Normally a very careful lover, I didn’t have a condom and I was too horny to stop. In one motion my pants were at my ankles and the head of my dick began to slip inside her. “Goddamn, it feels good.”

  I kept pushing until I had most of it in. We had lost all track of time and space as we began to fuck like porn stars. Her rubbing her clit in fast motion and me pinching her nipples as I slid in and out of her. She pushed me out of her, slid off the desk, and turned around. “This is my fantasy. I always wanted to get bent over the teacher’s desk and get fucked doggy style.”

  Lanelle was showing me a whole different side of her. I’d imagined that she was so prim and proper. She’d made me wait so long. Her freakiness now had me wondering if it had all been some front. That didn’t stop me from waxing that ass from the back, though. I gave her long strokes and watched the white cream from her as it coated my dick. My orgasm began to approach with the familiar tickle. I felt my balls begin to tighten and I sped up and started to slam into her uncontrollably. She screamed out at the top of her lungs and scared the shit out of me.

  Hoping that no one heard her, I kept going as I lost control. At the last second I pulled out and squirted nut all over her ass and the back of her skirt. I forced myself immediately down from the high. I pulled my underwear and pants up and reached for a Kleenex. “Here.”

  She wiped herself and I wiped her skirt. Once our body parts were covered, we looked at each other. I shook my head as if to say, I don’t know what that was all about, but I liked it, and she shook hers simultaneously as if to say, I bet you do this shit all the time.

  “Damn,” I said as I buckled my pants. “This desk looks like a tornado hit it.”

  “Tornado Lanelle.” She laughed. “Go ahead clean it up…and you can pay me later.” Then we both laughed.

  “Put it on my tab. That’s just round one.”

  “Oh, you got some more?”

  “I’m going to give you a new meaning for an after-school special.”

  She blew me a kiss and turned to leave, and as soon she reached the door a police officer was coming through it with his gun drawn.

  20

  Under Fire

  Dear Dr. C.,

  Why are men such cowards? Every man I meet has the same situation. They’re either married or in a relationship, but they all sing the same song and dance the same dance. They aren’t happy. Well, if none of them are happy, why aren’t they trying to give one of the other six sistahs in the legendary equation of the seven-to-one ratio a chance? Or do they have to try all seven at one time? If I hear another brother tell me that he’s staying in a relationship because he doesn’t want to start the drama with his child’s mother, I am going to jump off the GW Bridge. If you want to be a player, then be the best kind and be up-front with women and give us the choice. That’s all we ask. Please tell me, where are all the real men? The men who aren’t afraid to stand up and be who they are.

  Ready to Jump in Jersey City

  Dear Jumpin’ in Jersey,


  I have to admit that your letter made me think deeply about this notion of men being cowardly. You’re right. You see, most men operate out of fear. We’re so afraid that if you all knew who we really were, you wouldn’t be bothered with us at all. Here’s the deal. We lie and we’re greedy. We’re also selfish and emotionally immature. Luckily for you all, some of us evolve at some point in our lives, but the sad reality is this: most of us don’t. Men grow physically and intellectually into strong, handsome, logical beings. Except for the very rare being, though, all of us remain emotionally flawed.

  Now, on the flip side, most women are too irrational, overly sensitive, spoiled, and have a tendency to nag. So my suggestion to you is this. Know what you can and can’t deal with. From the sound of it, perhaps you need to first learn how to spot a liar; second, never date men with children; and third, quit dreaming if you are expecting men to all of a sudden start dealing in an up-front manner.

  Oh…and from what I understand, all the real men are either dead, in jail, or gay.

  Yours truly,

  Dr. C.

  When Lanelle burst into tears and started yelling that she was sorry the minute she saw the officer, I knew immediately that she was the last person I would ever want to commit a crime with. Before he could even tell her what he was in the school for, she’d begun confessing our misdeeds to the officer. “I’m so sorry, things just got out of control, he kissed me, and…It’ll never happen again…”

  The officer resembled a marine with his military-style haircut and he was imposing in size. As Lanelle began to ramble he simply looked at her as if she were a lunatic. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, miss. We’re investigating the premises of the school to see if anyone fled into the building or forced entry. We had a robbery in the vicinity and our surveillance tracked the suspect to this block. Unfortunately, our dogs were unable to pick up a scent. We feared that the perp may have come into the building and tried to turn this into a possible hostage situation. We’re simply securing the building. Making sure that each classroom is secure.”