Baby, You're the Best

by Mary B. Morrison

  The day I’d met Fortune, I was vulnerable. I was trying to get over a recent breakup with a man I was still in love with. If I’d realized giving Fortune my number would’ve eventually made me hate him too, I wouldn’t have done it. Dating Fortune was supposed to make my ex want me back. That was five years ago.

  Rolling my eyes real hard, I heaved. All I wanted to do was scream, Hurry up and get the hell off of me! My legs rested in a U position to accommodate Fortune’s wide hips. My ass was tilted downward. I’d rather make an impression in the mattress than please him.

  The sweat rolling off of his body onto mine used to make me feel sexy. Like all the pumping of his behind was done to satisfy me. Now, each drop made me cringe. I closed my eyes. Oh my God. Please let him cum, I prayed, wanting to slither from underneath him.

  Hurry the hell up! I yelled at the top of my inner voice. Instantly my nerves throbbed against my temples. Great. Now, I’ve given myself a migraine.

  Fortune was the kind of freeloader who thought he looked better than he actually did. Maybe it was his cockiness that made him unattractive. I peeped through the cracks in my lids, then shut my eyes. Nope, he was definitely outside-in, inside-out ugly.

  My legs were tiring. I squirmed a little to adjust my inner thighs.

  “That’s it. Wiggle it for me,” he said, humping harder.

  I stopped moving, then stared at him.

  He believed his regurgitating the news on CNN compensated for his incompetence. He thought his dick was so irresistible that all women wanted him to stroke them. Once upon a time, I craved this man like my favorite Godiva chocolate cheesecake and Cîroc vodka martini. Those days were history.

  When did we get to the point of living together and not caring about one another?

  “Come on, Blake. Lift your hips, woman.”

  I squeezed every muscle I could real tight. Why I was still with this man had to be under the definition of insanity.

  Opening his mouth, I watched him as he clenched his crooked teeth. His greasy cocoa skin drenched with baby oil slid up and down my body. The first time he ruined my expensive sheets, I downgraded to bargain bedding. As much as I detested cheap linen, I despised him more.

  I sighed knowing my anger was self-induced. From my daughters to the men I’d dated, my problem was I sacrificed my happiness to please them. Soon I’d be fifty years old. This was the perfect time to put my desires first and say the hell with everybody else’s!

  “If you don’t cum soon, you’re going to have to jack that thing of yours off.”

  “I’m almost there, woman. Gimme a few more minutes.”

  When we first met, I loved everything about Fortune. His corniness. Sarcasm. His chronic complaining encouraged me to uplift him with constant praise. I tried helping him find his passion. For each employer that offered him a job, he found an excuse not to accept. Instantly, he fell in love with all I had to give. In turn, I fell for him.

  I wanted to smack him upside both of his heads. All the complaining I’d done over the last five years, I was still the only one miserable in this relationship.

  What time is it?

  As I parted my lips to take a deeper breath, sweat poured from his neck into my mouth. Damn! I turned my head sideways, blew the salty slimy liquid onto the pillow. Prickly hairs on the gut he was too lazy to work off at the gym scraped up then down my midsection. Again and again. His three hundred pounds started trembling. His dick slipped out.

  I exhaled, “Thank you, Jesus.”

  “Uh-uh, Blake. Don’t say that. You know I’m not done yet.”

  Damn, did I say that out loud?

  He stuffed his dick inside me, then stroked me damn near raw. My pussy was on the verge of forming a new hymen.

  I was a smart, successful, financially well off woman living in Roswell, working in Buckhead. Why wasn’t I in bed with a desirable, intelligent man?

  To get through the rest of this session, I replayed sex scenes from a porn trailer that had gone viral a while ago. I wasn’t the type to watch adult movies but my girlfriend Echo had texted me the link. Nikko’s big dick was hard, long, and beautiful. It was sad that I had a man on top of me and I was lusting for good dick.

  Drool escaped the corner of my mouth as I envisioned Nikko’s third eye entering me in search of my G-spot. Pussy juices created by my yearning for a man I’d never met leaked onto Fortune’s erection.

  “That’s it. Work with Daddy,” Fortune said, grinding. “I feel you.”

  Lord, why couldn’t I be the lucky one having my vagina rejuvenated by a young man like Nikko? Or where could I find my own handsome, well-endowed, courageous cub in Atlanta? If I found and fucked him, that wouldn’t be cheating. That would be restitution.

  I sighed. I did not want this old, decrepit-ass man on top of me. Even his thoughts were depressing. Didn’t believe in anything unless there was something in it for him.

  Thank God for fantasies. Imagining sucking Nikko’s dick, I’d lie on my back, lean my neck over the edge of the mattress, tilt my head back far as I could, then part my juicy lips nice and wide.

  I’d paint my lips pussy-pink for him. My throat would be elongated to accommodate his amazingly stretched-out shaft. Nikko would slide right in. All the way in. I wouldn’t gag. If he’d cum, I’d swallow. In my position I wouldn’t have a choice if he didn’t pull out. I wouldn’t want him . . . to pull out.

  “Damn, Blake. Stop tightening up your legs. Let me in,” Fortune complained.

  If I participated, gyrated a little bit, I’d have time to brew a hot cup of coffee before showering.

  Staring at the ceiling fan slowly spiraling above us, I thought about the tasks I needed to complete at work today. My vacation started after I got off tomorrow. Normally, I wouldn’t take two weeks for my birthday but God had let me open my eyes for half of a century and that alone was worth celebrating.

  Let’s see. I had to go over everything with my branch VP, Brandon. He’d be in charge the entire time I was out. I had to follow up on three clients’ mortgage refis. Make sure Ms. Stevens’s business advantage account was set up and her business line of credit was available. Return calls to corporate . . .

  Fortune grunted, reminding me where I was.

  “I’m cumming, Blake.”

  My vaginal muscles snapped in protest. For fifteen seconds, he mustered enough energy to pump his ass. Deep. Fast. Penetrating strokes abruptly slowed to one shallow thrust. His sweat splattered onto my face. I wiped it off.

  He collapsed on top of me. I was thankful the second he rolled over onto his back. I sprang out of bed shaking my head, then looked down at him.

  “Blake, go get me a hot towel.”

  I politely said, “The girls want to take me out for my birthday tomorrow evening.” Standing at the foot of the bed, I waited for a response.

  “What girls? Them loose coworkers of yours? Or your daughters? Oh, I saw this nice hat I want you to get me for the jazz concert at Wolf Creek next week. Ask your boy Jeremy Hill for some free VIP tickets. I got my threads picked out. I’ma look good.” Pausing, he frowned, then asked, “Why you looking at me with your face all twisted? Didn’t I ask you for a hot towel, woman? All this cum is sticking to me.”

  One thing for certain, all of that cum was from his satisfaction. Not mine. Selfish bastard. My upgrading Fortune was a huge mistake. I should’ve known I’d made a bad decision when his wife didn’t protest his moving out of her house and into mine.

  Vanessa’s trash had become my garbage.

  Staring at Fortune, I lowered my voice then firmly said, “Get up and get out of my house.”

  CHAPTER 2

  Blake

  It was time for me to stop falling in love with a feeling.

  Starting now. No more convincing myself the dick wasn’t bad when I knew it was horrible. No more accepting his not performing oral copulation. No more holding him up to my standards to make him feel better about himself. Never again would I let a man move in, spend m
y money, or ejaculate inside of me without his caring about my needs or intimate desires. And, sex before monogamy definitely wasn’t happening.

  Unless, of course, I bumped into Nikko.

  Hot water pounded my body, relieving the tension in my shoulders. I lathered my loofah, scrubbed from the tip of my toes, to my ankle, leg, thigh, hip, pubic, stomach, navel, breast, shoulder, neck, behind my ear. I went down the backside, crossed over to the front, and did the same on the other side.

  Grazing my clit, I shivered then resumed cleansing. Determined to rid my flesh of Fortune’s DNA and baby oil for the last time, I scrubbed harder.

  I removed the handheld attachment, rinsed my body with hot water. I turned the dial to the strongest pulsation, lowered the temperature, then held the showerhead over my vulva.

  “Ah, yes. That feels so good.”

  There wasn’t a horizontal bar in my bathroom like the one in the sex video. I wondered if I could hang upside down and thrust my pussy in the air the way Mimi had. Certainly I could stand and hold on with both hands while letting a real man fuck me from behind.

  Imagining a strapping jock penetrating me, my mind quickly shifted to Nikko. What would he do if I put my pussy in his face? I directed the water over my breasts then twirled my areola between my fingers. I took a deep breath then pinched my nipple until the pain excited me.

  My vagina contracted. I turned the dial to warm, lowered the sputtering water to my pussy, then closed my eyes. I pictured Nikko on his knees in the shower. The tip of his tongue flicked against my engorged clit.

  Secretions flowed. My legs trembled. The thrill made my head spin. I closed my eyes, then released the biggest orgasm I’d had in months.

  I screamed, “Oh my God yesssss!”

  The bathroom door flung open. Fortune reached into the linen closet. “Thanks for getting that towel for me, Blake.”

  Damn! “You sorry bastard. Get out!”

  He’d enjoyed nutting off but thanks to him I didn’t get to relish in my afterglow for sixty seconds. I watched him as he wet the towel. He held his stomach, stooped, then slapped his balls side to side. Up and down his thighs he wiped each side, then twirled the towel around his flaccid dick.

  “Ah, that sure felt good,” he said, then laughed.

  Opening the shower door, I told him, “Get dressed and get out. Leave your keys to my house on my dresser. I don’t want you under my roof when I turn fifty.”

  “You’re the one that got me kicked out of my own house with my wife. Always demanding to see me. If you would’ve done like I told you to, I’d still be at home with my wife. Vanessa ain’t stupid. She—”

  “No, I am. Make that, was. You’ve got to get out of my house too. You’re no longer welcomed.”

  “Where am I supposed to go?”

  “You should’ve thought about that a long time ago! Or at least before you started laughing at me for having the explosive orgasm you’ve never given me!”

  Staring at me through the mirror, he snickered. “I’m sorry but you sounded like you were possessed.”

  “And you sound like the same inconsiderate son of a bitch you’ve always been.”

  This time he looked at me with bulging eyes. “I ain’t gon’ be too many more of them b words, Blake! You should’ve said you were miserable before I left Vanessa! Why do you hold in your problems then when things don’t go your way it becomes my problem? Vanessa did the same damn thing. What’s wrong with you women? Keep threatening to put me out and one of these times I’m going to pack my bags.”

  I stared deep into his eyes. If I had the strength, I could drag him outside, gag him, duct-tape him to a tree, and leave him there. I’d beat his behind first.

  “Why you looking at me like that?” he asked.

  “Hmm,” was all I said.

  If I left him in the woods, no one would miss him. Especially not Vanessa. I’d seen her out at Twist, the Fox Theater, and Bar One. She had the same fine young specimen escorting her each time. She kept a smile on her face. Not the kind that suggested, How you like me now, Blake? No, she had that, he’s-pleasing-this-pussy-real-good kind of look plastered on her face. I saw a sexy confidence in the sway of her hips. I was envious at the loving way her man kept his hands on her.

  As I stood in front of Fortune, his naked body disgusted me. I stared into his eyes. “I’m serious. When I come home from work, I don’t want you here.”

  “You’re serious?”

  I didn’t blink. Didn’t respond. Didn’t walk away.

  He stepped back. “Baby, let’s discuss this when you get home. I’ll take you to the concert for your birthday.”

  The concert that I was supposed to ask my client for free tickets to. I shook my head. Jeremy didn’t mind giving me comps. Maybe I’d invite Echo. I hadn’t spoken with her in years. I missed my friend.

  “I want you out today! Today!”

  “Not this shit again.” Fortune threw up his hands, exited the bathroom, then slammed the door.

  CHAPTER 3

  Alexis

  “What do you think about the title, ‘Barriers to Female Corporate Success: A quantitative study of female post-secondary graduates’ ability to attain chief executive officer and chief operating officer positions in Fortune 500 companies in America’?”

  My classmate Tréme gave me a slow nod. “I get where you’re going. Barriers is your focus but your area of interest is unclear.”

  “How so?”

  “Think about it some more, Alexis. Ability or inability? Is it personal or impersonal? You told me about your mom not getting promoted to the corporate level.”

  “And?”

  Tréme picked up her black tote, placed her laptop inside. Gold fleur de lis symbols covered the front and back. She wasn’t into designers or labels the way I was but she was a diehard Saints fan. Her family relocated from New Orleans to Atlanta after Hurricane Katrina.

  “If your mom is your only motivation, you’re not digging deep enough.”

  “Maybe you’re right.” I thought about what James had said to me yesterday about an anger management class. I was too proud to admit that I needed counseling.

  Tears filled my eyes. I blinked repeatedly to keep them from falling. Tréme gave me a hug.

  I picked up my purse, placed my iPad inside. “Let’s go.”

  Exiting the classroom, Tréme gently interlocked her fingers with mine. “What about focusing your dissertation on a study of women who have their father listed as unknown on their birth certificate. Not knowing your dad haunts your spirit all the time. I can see the pain in your face right now. From what you’ve told me, your sisters don’t seem to care that their fathers are listed as unknown too. But I bet if you had a heart-to-heart with them, you might discover they’re hurting just like you. Honey, don’t be too prideful to share your pain. My family lost everything we owned to Katrina. Loving, caring, generous strangers donated furniture, gave us a place to live, and paid my tuition in full. I’m indebted to society. So are you. In a way, everyone owes someone something. Letting go of what hurts you is a choice, Alexis. Your opening up can help heal a lot of women starting with yourself.”

  My heart grew heavier with her every word. I refused to cry. I knew she was right. I had to find my dad or find a way to let my caring about him go. “Thanks, I’ll call you later, gurl,” I told Tréme, giving her a hug.

  She held me close, then went into the restroom. I left the building. Stopping on the curb, I glanced down the aisle where I’d parked.

  Please tell me that’s not my car.

  I stood tall on my Jimmy Choo Lang stilettoes. Slowly, I made my way to the end of the lot. “Get your ass off of my car!”

  The female snapped her head in my direction, then stepped aside.

  “This is my ride, ma.” The guy winked at me then nodded sideways toward the big-booty girl with the small waist standing near him.

  Why me? Why today? I didn’t care if he was trying to impress this female. His fake New Y
orker accent didn’t mean shit to me. Sitting on the hood of my convertible was not the right decision. Disrespecting me was worse. I didn’t need to pull my hair up in a ponytail or take off my earrings but if he didn’t raise up off of the Lexus my man bought me . . .

  Dark clouds grew closer together. The warm summer breeze stopped flowing. Class went well this morning. I was in a reflective space, and now this bullshit. I didn’t know him and even if I did, I wasn’t cosigning on any lies this dude might have told this chick. I inhaled long and deep. The scent of ozone filled my nostrils.

  He crisscrossed his ankles, leaned back, smirked at me with an upward nod. Dropping one of my purse straps from my shoulder to my forearm, I opened my bag, took three strides toward this fool, spread my legs, then planted my heels firmly on the ground.

  He laughed. “Who you supposed to be, ma? Joseline Hernandez?”

  Wait a minute. This bitch rambling like we kin.

  The girl eyed me then him. Her glance shifted back and forth.

  He slid his hand over his mouth. “Sis, why you trip—”

  Smack! Lightning struck as my backhand landed across his jaw.

  I watched him slide from the hood then stumble. The girl laughed at him as she held her stomach. The second he raised his hand to hit me, I pulled out my piece.

  The girl’s eyes grew wide but not larger than his. I gave the area where his ass was a quick once-over to make sure my hood wasn’t damaged, then told him, “Don’t give me a reason to pop off because I will.”

  “Damn, I was joking,” he said, raising his hands as though he was familiar with surrendering to authorities. “Don’t shoot me.”

  This guy was a waste of my time. As I drove out of the campus parking lot, a call came in from James. Thunder roared. Lightning struck twice. I wasn’t sure which came first, the loud boom, or the sudden downpour, but I was accustomed to both.

  I answered, “Hey, babe.”

  “You staying out of trouble?” he asked, then laughed. “I’m in your area, sweetheart. Want some company?”