Lookin' For Luv

by Carl Weber

  “What, Terri?” she snapped.

  “Mrs. Martin is finished under the dryer and she won’t let nobody but you touch her,” the young lady said. Her eyes were on Antoine, and she smiled flirtatiously.

  Keisha stepped closer to Antoine. “Well, I have to go. But when are we gonna go have that drink you promised me?” She smiled. “I’m free tonight if you’re not too busy.”

  “Sorry, Keisha, I’m pretty busy tonight,” he lied, holding up his briefcase. “But soon, real soon.”

  Keisha was encouraged when he said soon. “What about tomorrow? The day after? This weekend?” she called after him as he disappeared into his apartment without an answer. She shrugged, thinking he must not have heard her. He did.

  In his apartment Antoine put away his briefcase and knapsack and headed for the hall closet. Moving a few things around, he pulled out a scale. He closed his eyes and stepped on it. The memory of Keisha’s compliment about his weight loss made him smile.

  Maybe all this hard work is starting to pay off, he thought, opening his eyes to read the number on the scale. One hundred and seventy-six pounds. Eleven pounds in three weeks and I’m definitely starting to get some muscle tone. Fourteen more pounds and I’ll be looking like my younger self!

  He began to flex his muscles like a bodybuilder, until he realized his blinds were wide open for the whole neighborhood to see. If there was one thing he couldn’t stand, it was appearing undignified. He hastily placed the scale back in the closet and closed the blinds.

  The weight loss made him more determined to continue, and Antoine decided to skip dinner. Instead, he sat down at his computer to enter his students’ grades. He was distracted by Keisha’s loud, unmistakable voice outside his window. Removing his glasses, he began to think about the full-figured woman.

  There was no doubt in his mind that she liked him. From the first day she had rented him the apartment, she was always very attentive to his requests. When he went down to her apartment on the first floor to give her his rent check, she always invited him in for coffee or dinner. Antoine quickly realized she was not so accommodating to her other tenants.

  At first he was flattered. Keisha’s shapely, full figure was enticing. He had joked many times with his friends, “There ain’t nothing like a big-boned woman!” As a beauty shop owner, her hair and makeup were always impeccable, accentuating her smooth caramel skin and light brown eyes.

  After several months of flirting, Antoine had even made plans to take her out on a date. He still wished she were a little more refined, but he had been dateless for a while, so he decided to give it a try. But the date never came to pass. The day they had planned to go out, Antoine was awakened by Keisha’s screams. Running to his window, he saw Keisha beating the hell out of one of her customers with a hair dryer.

  When he arrived on the sidewalk, Keisha turned her anger and the bloody hair dryer on him. Fifteen stitches and a concussion later, he had not even received an apology. He never again considered taking her out, deciding her abrasive personality was more than he could handle. She, of course, had not given up her pursuit.

  Reaching up to close the window, Antoine put Keisha out of his mind so he could concentrate. He worked diligently for the next few hours. He considered relaxing in front of the television for a while but didn’t think he could bear to listen to any more news about the president’s infidelities. Instead, he decided to edit the poetry he had written. Teaching English at the high school was a challenge, but it left him little room to be creative, especially when he was constantly worrying about keeping his classes under control. In his spare time he exercised his artistic mind by writing poetry.

  As he read his poems he made some minor changes. He felt pride in what he had accomplished and wished he could share it with someone. For a brief moment he considered going down to Keisha’s apartment. But as soon as he opened the door, the loud thumping of rap music bombarded him. The music was coming from Keisha’s apartment. Antoine shook his head and closed the door, returning to his chair. He thought about calling one of his friends to read his poetry to, but when he remembered it was after eleven, he knew there was really no one he could bother at such an hour.

  He felt desperate. After several minutes of internal dialogue about the pros and cons, he sighed heavily and went to his briefcase, searching for the index card Kevin had given him earlier in the day.

  I wonder what Kevin would think if he knew I was about to call this 900 line, Antoine thought as he dialed 1-900-BLACK-LUV He listened to the instructions, then pushed the appropriate buttons to allow him to leave a message. Clearing his throat, he spoke slowly and seriously.

  “Hello, my name is Antoine and I’m a writer. I’m not looking to meet anyone. What I would like is a little feedback on a poem I wrote.” He proceeded to read expressively:

  LOVERS ON A BLANKET

  Let us sit hand in hand,

  On my blanket in the sand.

  Watching the sea gulls high,

  As they soar, as they fly.

  Let us share a warm embrace,

  As the sun shows its face.

  Two lovers, side by side,

  From each other they need not hide.

  I am in love with you and you with me.

  Deep inside, emotions are set free.

  I love you like no other,

  Someday soon you will discover.

  Two lovers, hand in hand,

  Sitting on a blanket in the sand.

  Antoine paused and completed his message. “Thank you so much for listening to my poem, and I hope to answer all responses as soon as possible.”

  He hung up the phone and went to bed, wondering what kind of women called these lines. Would he get some serious responses, or had he just made a huge, embarrassing mistake?

  3

  MAURICE

  Sylvia had prepared all day to make love to Maurice. She started by going to the hairdresser and nail salon early that morning. Then she rushed home to cook his favorite meal, stuffed young duckling. As she stood in her bedroom, unzipping her dress, she hoped Maurice would appreciate her effort to please him. She had been waiting almost three weeks for his schedule to allow them some time for intimacy, and she was horny as hell. She threw her dress on the chair near her makeup table.

  It was funny how things had worked out. When they were first married, he couldn’t keep his hands off her. He would always remind her that he was in his sexual prime and her wifely duty was to satisfy his needs. Sylvia laughed as she remembered how pathetically he used to plead, promising that he would be there to take care of her when she reached her sexual prime. Now the tables had turned, and it was rare when he showed even the slightest interest.

  Boy was I stupid! Sylvia moaned. I’m damn near forty and I’m still waiting for that son of a bitch to take care of my needs.

  But Sylvia didn’t want to spoil her planned night of intimacy, so she put aside her memories of Maurice’s false promises. When she heard him walk in the front door, she made her final preparations. Taking off her shoes, panty hose, and jewelry, she checked herself in the full-length mirror, pleased with what she saw.

  Tall and slender, she had gained only ten pounds since her daughter’s birth twenty years before. Most of that weight was in what men call “the right places.” For a thirty-eight-year-old mother, she still had a body that would make any woman proud. An expensive designer wardrobe paid for with part of her million-dollar inheritance accentuated her curves. She admired her olive complexion and big brown eyes in the mirror as she picked up a comb and stroked it through her long black hair. Placing the comb on her dresser, she removed her bra and panties. Her plan was to greet Maurice naked to start the evening off right. As far as she was concerned, dinner could wait.

  In his personal bathroom Maurice sat on the toilet, reading the latest issue of Blacktail magazine.

  You’ll do just fine, he thought, admiring the breasts of a beautiful young model. The things I could do with a hot little number l
ike you. He flipped the page to see another of the young woman’s erotic poses.

  Softly tapping a fist against his forehead, Maurice stared at the young woman on the page. The last thing I want to do tonight is fuck Sylvia’s old ass. It made him ill that he had to resort to magazine photos to get aroused for the event. Disgusted, he threw the magazine on top of a small pile of others.

  For Dr. Maurice Johnson, making love to his wife was more of a chore than a treat, and his marriage was more of a business arrangement than a love affair. He had married Sylvia because of her father’s money and struggled to keep up the facade of a healthy, loving marriage long after his newlywed passion had died. All the while he carried on a string of affairs with the college freshmen he taught as an adjunct professor. However unfulfilling his marriage was, he never doubted his wife’s unconditional love and saw no reason to change their situation. She seemed satisfied as long as he performed his duties in the bedroom once or twice a month, and he was able to satisfy himself with other women whenever he desired. Sylvia never seemed to question his actions or his whereabouts in their twenty years together.

  As he entered their bedroom to give Sylvia her monthly pleasure, Maurice forced a weak smile.

  Sylvia noticed that her husband did not look too enthusiastic. She knew he was not going to make things easy, but she was not going to back down this time.

  “You are going to make love to me like you promised, aren’t you, Maurice?” she asked in a sweet voice.

  Maurice didn’t answer right away. He actually considered faking a bout of diarrhea. She would probably buy it, considering how much time he had spent in the bathroom. Putting on a fake frown, he almost gave her the lie but reconsidered. He wanted to get it over with rather than postpone it. This way she’d be in a decent mood when he asked her to help him get some stock tips from her friend Bernard.

  “Sure I’m gonna make love to you, sweetheart.” He pasted a fake smile on his face.

  Watching his clothes hit the floor, Sylvia threw the comforter back, exposing her naked body. Gazing at her husband, she admired his tall, athletic body. He was still the finest man she had ever seen. She scanned up to his sexy blue-green eyes set in a face that looked much younger than his forty-two years. His striking good looks always made Sylvia forgive and forget his many indiscretions throughout the years. Every time she was suspicious, he could just look at her with those beautiful eyes, and she would forget she was even angry. In spite of the distance that had grown between them, she had loved him since the day he took her virginity.

  Maurice slowly crawled onto the bed and moved on top of Sylvia. He kissed her neck softly, and she moaned with pleasure in response. He could still give her goose bumps with just one touch.

  While his wife thought about the pleasure she was about to receive, he was busy worrying that he couldn’t complete the act while looking at her. Closing his eyes, Maurice began to fantasize about the young woman in the magazine. Taking hold of his limp penis, he slowly tugged on it until it was erect enough to enter his wife.

  “Maurice, honey, can I be on top? It always feels better that way,” she asked timidly.

  “Come on, Sylvia,” he groaned. “You know this is my favorite position.”

  “Okay, honey. But I was thinking you might want me to go down on you first. I wanna make sure you’re satisfied in every way.” Sylvia knew from past experience that she had to work hard to please her husband if she wanted to get any real affection in return.

  Maurice was tempted. It wasn’t often that his wife offered him oral sex. He could just sit back and let her do all the work. Then he realized her intention was probably to ask him for the same pleasure in return. The thought of that made his stomach turn.

  “This will do just fine, Sylvia,” he answered, trying again to form a picture of the young woman in the magazine in his mind.

  “All right, honey, just put it inside of me.” .

  She sighed, realizing that foreplay was not on the agenda. Gasping as he slowly pushed himself into her, Sylvia wrapped her arms around him and moaned.

  “Oh, Maurice, that’s it, baby. That’s the spot.”

  When Maurice and Sylvia had first met, she was a virgin, and very timid during lovemaking. Even when she was very excited, she barely made a sound. Maurice had ignored this behavior for a while, even though he found it a turnoff. Finally, he confronted her on it, demanding that she act more aroused and become more vocal. Sylvia tried unsuccessfully to change, but it was uncomfortable for her to scream without feeling embarrassed or whorish. Over the years she realized her husband was asking much less often for sex and figured it was because of her reticence. She loved him and was so desperate for his affection that she eventually learned to loosen up during sex. Unfortunately her changes did not increase their lovemaking, but on the rare occasions that they did have sex, Sylvia screamed and moaned like a pro.

  Sylvia’s screams excited Maurice, and he began to pump faster. Really enjoying it now, she kicked her legs high in the air. “Oh, don’t stop now! Please don’t stop now!” she shouted, concentrating as the intense pleasure increased and she felt herself nearing orgasm.

  Maurice had become engulfed in his fantasy, and a few thrusts later he gasped as he climaxed inside of her.

  No! she thought. Not again! Please God, not again! I was almost there. Damn you, Maurice, all I ever asked for is one pitiful orgasm.

  Rolling off Sylvia, Maurice seemed oblivious of her disappointment.

  “Are you happy, baby?”

  “Yes,” Sylvia answered weakly as she envisioned her hands strangling the life out of his body.

  Looking up at him with desperation, she remembered her girlfriend Vivian’s advice: Always ask for more. They last longer the second time around.

  “Ahhh, Maurice, do you think we could do it one more time?” She was humble, almost pleading.

  “Hey, I know I’m good.” He smiled, shaking his head confidently as he wagged his finger at her. “But let’s not get greedy.”

  He slipped into his robe. “I’m going downstairs. I’m going to eat in my study and finish up some work.” He didn’t make eye contact once.

  Sylvia threw a pillow at the door as he closed it behind him.

  “You arrogant motherfucker!” she cursed him. Sadly she walked to her closet and searched until she found a thin, rectangular box. “You won’t let me down, will you?” she sighed, letting a six-inch vibrator slide out of the box.

  Downstairs in his study Maurice took two Tums to settle his stomach and pulled the trash can closer to his desk in case he had to throw up. Every time he had sex with his wife lately, he felt as if someone had turned his stomach inside out. The only positive thought he could muster was the relief that now he would be off the hook for another few weeks.

  Sitting back in his chair, he could feel some relief as the antacid began to work. The past two weeks had been difficult for him. His high school was ranked among the lowest in New York State in all subjects but English, and that was in jeopardy because a publishing company was trying to lure his finest teacher with a book deal.

  He knew he had to find a way to convince the teacher Antoine Smith to stay. If those test scores plummeted, Maurice could quite possibly be out of another job. He slammed his hand on the table as his memory wandered back to the adjunct professorship he had been forced to give up.

  As a professor at York College, he had taught basic algebra in their night school program. Many of his students were young girls just barely out of high school, who were taking the night courses to qualify for college admission. In many cases the girls were eager to do well, since their future success was at stake, and Maurice took full advantage of their eager young minds. For two years he had enjoyed the pleasures of over a dozen fine young bodies in exchange for good grades in his class. It was a sexual playground for him. One girl, though, was not quite as naive as the others and reported Maurice to the college administration when he abandoned her in another state after they h
ad made love. Immediately many of the other girls came forward to report similar experiences, and Maurice was forced to leave his position.

  Recalling the incident caused Maurice’s anger to flare. He could remember verbatim the letter he had received from the dean. It had left him no choice but resignation.

  Dear Maurice,

  In light of the sex-for-grades incident you were involved in this past semester, I highly recommend that you resign as associate professor. As I promised, I have been in contact with several of the young ladies involved and they plan to go to the press if you are kept on. Please, as your friend and colleague, I ask you to spare yourself, your family, and the college the embarrassment. Resign before this becomes ugly. An incident like this could very easily ruin your life.

  Your friend,

  Thomas

  As much as the letter had pained him, he had to admit his friend had really saved his neck.

  God if I had to do it all over again, I would never have left that tramp in Vermont. Maybe if I’d given the bitch a ride home, she wouldn’t have cried foul.

  He had convinced himself that these silly girls asked to be used, and he was sorry only that he was caught. For a while he had behaved simply out of fear of being caught again. But the incident was almost six months in the past, and he was getting restless for a new thrill. Making love to his wife that night had just pushed him over the edge.

  He reached into his briefcase and pulled out the index card he had found in the locker room earlier in the day. Smiling, he dialed 1-900-BLACK-LUV and left his message.

  4

  KEVIN AND ALICIA

  Kevin returned home from work at seven o’clock. Famished, he grabbed a quart of orange juice and the turkey sandwich that he had forgotten to take for lunch. Sitting in his beat-up recliner, he ate and daydreamed about being a star in the NBA. Shortly he was fast asleep and his daydreams became real dreams.