Life

by Sullivan, Leo

  “Hope, I just want to make love to you.” His words a murmur against my hot flesh as I moaned out loud in ecstasy. Slow and passionate were his loving strokes. He has not entered me fully as if to see if my body could withstand the length of his manhood. His short strokes were driving me crazy.

  “Hope, do you like this?” He eased deeper inside of me.

  “Yes! Yes! Yes!” I lamented praising Jesus, cursing out God as I rode the ebb and flow of the torrent tide of his skillful lovemaking. He thrust deeper, testing my womanhood. I felt him going where no man had ever gone before, impaling what felt like my chest cavity. His strokes, even tempered, like he was measuring just how to love my body. As he reached his destination, I felt my body shake and shiver in uncontrollable convulsions that sent me into fits. I was out of control as Life road my body like I was a wild stallion and he was a Black cowboy. I had an orgasm that made me scream. The whole time his lovemaking never stopped. He devoured my body like lovemaking was an art to be crafted and practiced solely on me. Twenty or thirty short strokes and then one deep stroke. Ten short strokes and then one painfully deep long one, and still he was not even halfway inside of me. I reached another orgasm with one of his deep stroke maneuvers as my fingers clawed his back. He spread my legs wider grabbing my ass, pushing deeper inside of me causing the throes of desire to explode. Showing me yet another facet of my sexual identity that I did not know existed. “Ohmygod!” I moaned in ecstasy. He stroked me with a rhythm so intense that our bodies were saturated with sweat.

  Over an hour had passed when he grabbed one of my legs and held it high in the air asking, “Hope, do you like this?” His raspy voice breathed on my erect nipples. Each part of my body that he touched, he made love to as if his only mission were to please me. I could not talk, I was in another zone. I was about to reach another orgasm, that one was being summoned from somewhere deep within me and caused my head to thrash back and forth. Life was driving me up the wall. Then suddenly he stopped … labored breathing echoed like two fighters engaged in battle, damn, just as I was on the brink of another orgasm.

  Slowly, he eased off of me, his tongue making hot trails on my breasts as he pulled out of me. He sucked on my body, loud, with slurping sounds that teased and tingled me with ecstasy. Lower and lower his hand went. He stuck a finger inside of me, then two, which stirred my passion. His tongue traced my navel … my pubic area … my thighs. I was pulling my hair out. I had never had a man go down on me before.

  “Ooh shit! What … ah … are you doing?” The timbre of my voice broke. He had taken so much from me, yet giving too much. His deft tongue molested my clitoris, sucking on it like it was the sweetest candy in the world.

  “Hope, do you like this?” I just nodded my head, and for the first time, I tried to scoot toward the headboard, away from him. This was the best torture that any woman could endure.

  “Hope.”

  “Ye … ye … yessss!”

  “I’m cheating …” lick, lick, lick, lick, “… it takes a thousand strokes to please a Black woman.” With that he spread my lips and buried his tongue inside of me. His tongue acted like it had a license to seduce me. He drove it down south licking my ass. After about another hour of him loving me, I thought I was going to cry from ecstasy. I had never been made love to like that before. I reached yet another orgasm. We broke the record for the number of orgasms I have had in a single night. We changed positions. He placed me on my stomach and put pillows underneath me and took me from the back. This was the most painful position. It felt like he was stretching the elastic out of my stuff. I tried to squirm away as his once gentle loving became brutally rough. Over and over he thrust deeper and deeper. I cried out in pain. It only seemed to increase his lust. He was past the thousand strokes of loving me. Finally, his body jerked and shivered, saliva dribbled from his mouth onto my back as he came inside of me. Satisfied, he keeled over off me onto the bed, panting, I was exhausted. Perspiration glistened off of my body. I was lying in a puddle of our love juices too tired to move.

  Predawn had peeked over the starry horizon. Everything looked murky, like a mirage. It was hard to tell if I was awake or asleep. I was in a sexual daze. I touched myself. My coochie was swollen and sore. This man beat it to death. I watched as Life removed the torn rubber from his still erect penis. I couldn’t help thinking, every woman should try a little thug love in her life.

  Nude, except for the one sock he had on, I watched Life walk to the window and close the blinds ending our freak show. He came back, sat on the bed, propped his leg up, the one with the sock on, and lit a cigarette. He watched me intently as he blew smoke right in my direction. I would have given the world just to have read his mind. What really goes through a man’s mind after a woman gives him her body? Well actually in my case he took it, kinda.

  For some reason, I dozed off to sleep thinking about Marcus, my fiancé. I was guilt ridden. He was the love of my life, but sexually, there was no comparison between him and Life. Marcus wasn’t into oral sex nor was he half as endowed as Life was. I went to sleep with my hands between my legs, thinking how that thug had put it on me.

  At 11 o’clock, I was awakened to the sound of the phone ringing. Disoriented, I couldn’t remember where I was. I finally remembered to speak. “Hello?” I was informed that it was check-out time. Still I could not get my bearings. I lay back down on the pillow. Then it all came back. I was in a hotel room with a man I hardly knew, he had taken my body. Oh, shit! I thought about the guns, the police and those evil white men that tried to abduct me. I sprung from the bed, my torn panties lay on the floor as a reminder of the conquest of my body. And Life was gone. I did not know if that was good or bad considering all that he took me through. My mind raced a mile a minute. I went into the adjoining room. He wasn’t there. I ran my fingers through my hair. The phone rang, startling me.

  “Hello?”

  “Wuz up, Shouty!” From the sound of his raspy voice, he had been drinking. “I got the car fixed. You ready to bounce to Tally?”

  “Yaaa!” I was excited for some reason as I answered. “I’ll be down in a sec.” I hung the phone up and walked over to the window; children were playing around the pool, it was a beautiful day. As I took a shower, I had to admit, even though Life Thugstin was a thug, he handled his business. I shuddered at the thought of what would have happened to me if Marcus would have been there when the white men tried to abduct me. I rubbed my swollen private thinking once again how every woman from time to time needs a thug in her life. Once thing for sure, once we made it to Tallahassee I was going to get rid of his ass like a bad habit.

  I walked out into the hotel vestibule with my luggage in hand. I was wearing white slacks with a pink blouse made of soft cotton. Life, nor my car, were anywhere in sight. I looked around, the sun still bright and I heard my name. Life was all the way at the end of the parking lot. He came strutting toward me with all new clothes on. A gold Nike sweatsuit with a brown Kangol hat and a pair of the new Jordan’s that had just come out. Once up close he tried to kiss me while speaking, “Hi baby!” I ducked. He reached for my luggage making a face, a knowing grin. I took off walking. I smelled his cologne.

  “I have a surprise for you.” I continued to walk. Betty was still nowhere in sight. I stopped, looked behind me and saw that he had stopped, placed my bags down and was pointing at a car. I knew I was right earlier, the man had been drinking. “Da–dahhh-hhhhh,” he droned, gesturing at the car, palms open pointing. It was an older model candy apple red Honda Accord with a sunroof and rimmed expensive tires that cost more than my old car.

  “Boy! Have you lost your damn mind? Where is my damn car?” I said walking up to him. Again he tried to kiss me. I moved out of the way.

  “This is your car!” he beamed.

  “No it ain’t.” I scoffed. “I own a blue 1973 Ford Mustang.”

  “Not no mo, I sold it to the junkyard for $75.00.”

  “You did whatttt? I know damn well your jinxy ass ai
n’t sold my car!” I was all up in his face. His eyes darted to the ground as he dug into his pocket passing me my ID with the title and registration in my name. “You went into my purse while I was asleep and stole my ID, sold my car and bought this car?” I asked trying to control my temper. My jaws were clinched so tight it felt like I was going to crack my teeth. He looked away. “Why?” I asked. I found it amazing how men could turn into little boys. He mumbled something about last night, and me saving his life. I could see that I hurt his feelings, yet he tried to mask the pain with a facial expression that returned my question with, why can’t you accept my gift? Dope boys were notorious for buying college girls cars and nice things, but as I found out, it often came with a price. I was not trying to get involved with him, or fall into one of his traps.

  My tone softened, “You have got to take this car back, you shouldn’t have –”

  “Hope, there’s a lot of shit a nigga should not have done!” he interrupted, taking a step back from me. This was our standoff, but this was his world, I was just a visitor trying to get out.

  “I don’t know how I will ever be able to pay you back,” I said with more innocence than I had intended. He took a look at my body and smiled brightly.

  “You already did, last night, a brotha be loving that wild shit!”

  That was not what I wanted to hear. Then he tried to take my hand but I pulled away. His handsome face scowled into a look of confession. “Um … about last night. I did not mean for it to go that far.” He grabbed me by my shoulders and pulled me up close to him. I did not know if he was going to kiss me or hit me. His breath was hot on my face, as hot as last night’s passion. I was powerless to move. A couple stared as they passed by. In the distance I heard a fire truck. This closeness and energy from this man seized me completely. If he told me to go back inside the hotel and take off all my clothes again so that he could make love to me, I probably would have. Some men possess overwhelming energy that is just that powerful over women. Life Thugstin was one of those men.

  “Hope, you cannot tell me that you didn’t enjoy last night as much as I did.” His words seeped inside of me, nuzzling in a place that I wanted to keep him forbidden. I attempted to speak but the words just froze in my throat. I tried to look away, but his eyes would not let me. They pleaded for an answer, an answer that he and I knew the truth to. He squeezed my arm until it hurt. “I … I … I’m engaged to someone.” My words came out on his face and washed down on him. For a fleeting second, I swear I saw anger in his eyes. I thought for sure he was going to knock my ass down. He released me like I just told him I’d tested positive for some virulent plague. He reached into his pocket and handed me the keys to the car. They were on the same key ring that my old keys were. I walked around to the driver’s side, wishing there was something I could say, something to comfort him. I felt like shit. As soon as I got in the car I noticed the bags of clothes he bought me from Macy’s. I saw an expensive Dooney and Burke purse, it was gorgeous.

  For the next half hour or so neither of us spoke, but I could read his thoughts. He wanted me, and it shamed him. He gambled on me and lost. I needed to speak my mind, for the longer we remained silent, the more pent up frustration I felt with each passing mile. Hell, no one told him to spend his damn money on me! I turned to him, “What I did last night was so wrong and I’m sorry. Things just got out of hand,” I said as I drove. I was so full of anger that I saw veins in my hands as they clinched the steering wheel. “I made a bad judgment … no, horrible judgment … twice. I’m 21 years old.” He shot me a look that said what’s that got to do with it. I continued, “I was not trying to take advantage of you. I promise I’ll pay you back. How about fifty dollars a week until I get this car paid off. Can we just be friends?”

  “Yo, check this out Shouty, all of my friends chase cats, eat shit and bark at the moon,” he said so coldly that I had to turn and look in his direction. This was a side of him I had never seen before. I watched as he casually took a cassette tape out of one of the shopping bags and placed it into the deck. Jodeci crooned, begging a woman to stay for a little while. The music was very nice, melodic. I swayed into the rhythm of my emotions like Life was using that song to talk to me.

  I drove eighty five miles an hour, my mind racing, guilt ridden. In History I read that lust, in the form of passion or pussy, had been known to start wars. As a young woman I was just beginning to learn, a lot. A man would actually go to great lengths to impress a woman. And I had never been sexed like that before. Hope, can I lick you here … touch you there … it takes a thousand strokes to please a Black woman, I remembered him telling me. I heard my mouth blurt out, “If you like you can call me at the station. I host a show on campus radio. It’s called The Panther Power Hour. We deal with issues like Affirmative Action, Police brutality –”

  “Listen, dig,” he interrupted. “I ain’t finta start nuttin wit you I can’t finish. You don’t owe me nuttin, aight?” Then he turned and looked at me, “Besides you wasn’t all that anyway.”

  I turned up the volume so high on the stereo it sounded like it was going to bust the speakers. He cringed and looked at me like I was crazy. We drove the rest of the way not speaking and me still not believing the last twenty-four hours of my life.

  I finally reached Tallahassee and I drove down Tennessee Street. There is so much human electricity in this college town that it pulsates. You can actually feel it, like your own heartbeat, that is if you are young, 21 years old and hungry to succeed like I was. I was happy to be back on my old stomping grounds. Life was looking out the window like a kid in a candy store. Women of all ethnicities walked the streets. I pulled into the new Holiday Inn that had just been built. Life turned and watched me. For some reason I thought of an old saying, penny for your thoughts.

  *****

  Chapter Five

  “The Land of Milk and Honey”

  – Life –

  I was watching this broad Hope, she done played a nigga like a piano. I could see she felt like shit, guilty conscience and all. I wanted her to marinate in it. I knew she felt bad about having to accept this car plus me selling her old piece of junk. She thought this car cost a lot of money. Hell, I hacked off that much money in a strip club, besides, I could make it back in an hour hustling. Now, as I looked at her, I was filled with envy, lust and some more shit. I couldn’t believe she gave me that lame ass excuse, talking ‘bout she got a man. Fuck her! I was a playa. I needed a bitch about as bad as a fish needed a raincoat. I was forced to admit, that was some gangsta shit she pulled at the mall, rescuing me from the police and her sex was sweet and pure like it was the first time I ever made love to a woman. Afterward, I had to smoke a cigarette and watched her as she slept, thinking how God knew what he was doing when he created Woman.

  She pulled up at the hotel. Sadly, it kind of disturbed me. I knew it was the end of the road for us but it was all-good. I knew that I was going to take over this town, little by little, this was what we hustlers called fertile land. A nice-sized city with plenty of money. My plan was to make a couple million, build a small bankroll and get out of the game, so I thought.

  I reached into my pocket and put on my two chunky bracelets, and the fat iced-out chain I took from the police back there at the hotel. As I pulled out my bankroll, I could see Hope watching me through the corner of her eye. So I stunted for her doing what playas do. Money, hoes and clothes is all a brotha knows. Then I gave her my best Mack pose, leaning against the car door, I took of my Kangol and caressed the waves on my head like I was blessing myself. I just transformed right before her eyes.

  “Here.” I passed her two crispy one hundred dollar bills. “Go get me a hotel room, the biggest room they got with a view of the pool,” I said just like I intended, a command, showing no respect for her. Hope sucked her tongue as she turned and glowered at me. If looks could kill, her fulgurate eyes would have done a drive by. She opened her mouth to speak and suddenly thought better of it. She got out and slamme
d the car door. I watched her as she walked away angry. I was sure she was unconscious of the sensuous sway of her hips. Her struts forceful like she could take out frustration on the concrete. I’ve always wondered what their mommas gave them. Moments later she returned. I could not help admiring her walk.

  “Here,” she said passing me the keys along with a slip of paper. Just then a car drove by, music bumping. It was a sleek, sky blue Lexus SC430, full of shouting females. The car made a U-turn in the middle of the street. There was always something about college females, they’re always hyperactive, like where is the party at. I watched Hope as she watched the car. “No, this can’t be happening to me,” she mumbled. The car pulled in right next to us. Females were five deep. They were loud and excited to see Hope. I stood outside to get an eyeful of diamonds glistening. I felt like a pimp on a hoe farm. All eyes on me.

  “No it isn’t! Not the good sister Hope. On the smoooove creeeep,” the driver droned. The rest of the girls cracked up in giddy laughter. Hope smiled painfully like she was getting a tooth pulled. The driver was mixed with something. If I had to guess, I would say Spanish. Her complexion was amber, like she was kissed by the sun. Her deep green chatoyant eyes were stunning, they could hypnotize a man. She had me spellbound. She had long silky black hair that cascaded down to the middle of her back, like she had just brushed it and let it flow. She stepped out of the car wearing a white halter top and tight-fitting blue jeans. Her walk was provocative, like the purest essence of a woman’s femininity. The pussy print between her legs was balled up like a fat fist on both sides. Damn she was wearing them jeans. I bit down on my knuckle and Hope rolled her eyes at me. The driver never took her eyes off of me. Not even one second. It felt as if I were being inspected.

  “Trina, this is L.”

  “Heeeey L, with your fine self,” cooed a girl in the car.