Niya

by Fabiola Joseph

  “Now, tell me what I want to hear,” I demanded as her nipple hardened under my touch.

  “It . . . it feels good.”

  So, she thought I was playing with her? I wasn’t going to touch that kitty until she said what I wanted her to say. This wasn’t just an ego boost. I needed her to say those words because every time she thought of this night, she would also remember saying that she wanted a girl to make her cum. That would either make her realize that she was a lesbian or help her to realize that playing these games just wasn’t worth it. See, a lot of straight girls loved to play the “I kissed a girl and liked it” game. They knew damn well that they weren’t even bi, let alone gay, yet they liked to play with gay girls’ feelings.

  “And?” I asked.

  “And I want you to . . . to . . . to make me cum.”

  She needed a little more help than I had thought. I started to rub her clit. I rubbed it for a whole minute or two, still through her panties, just giving her a few moments of pleasure.

  “And?”

  My hands stopped moving, and I waited to hear her say the magic words. She was panting, and I could feel her heart racing as my left hand still played with her nipple.

  “And . . . I want you, a girl, to make me cum.” She put her hands over mine as she stared at me. “Come on, Niya. Make me cum. Please, Niya, I need you to make me cum.”

  Damn. Her begging was turning me on. She looked so helpless, as if me making her cum was her only wish in the world.

  “Come on, baby. Don’t stop now. You gotta make me cum, boo.”

  As we stood there, in front of that mirror, with her dress pulled up around her waist, I proceeded to turn Marlo out. At first I was going to use only my fingers, but then I decided that giving her the best head she would ever get in her life was the only way to go.

  I pulled down her panties and let them fall around her ankles. Her bare pussy was soaking wet and was ready for my touch. As my fingers played tricks against her clit, the sound of her moistness filled the air. Soon her moans and groans followed. Her head rocked back, only for me to demand that she keep her eyes on the mirror. She threatened to let her knees buckle; I threatened to stop if she couldn’t handle my finger play. My fingers against her wetness sounded like smacking lips.

  “Niya, wait. I can’t . . . I can’t stand up anymore. Please, baby. Oh shit. Fuck. I can’t.”

  I looked around the room, and with my right foot, I pulled over the chair that sat close to us. I sat her down roughly on it because she had pissed me off. I sat her ass right in front of that mirror and stood in front of her.

  “Throw them fuckin’ legs up.”

  I didn’t have to ask twice. There she was, with that pussy in the air. We both could see it all. I fell to my knees and stuck out my tongue. I licked from her hole to her clit and stayed on it for a little bit. I sucked, licked, and pulled on that pretty little clit of hers, and soon my two fingers slid inside of her. I moved both of them with skill and watched as she fucked both my face and my middle and index fingers. She called my name, she grabbed my head, and then she tried to push it away and close her legs.

  “Bitch, take that shit. You wanted to play lezzy games, huh? Sit still and take that shit, understand?”

  “Yes, yes, okay. Oh God.”

  I toyed with her that night, drawing her closer and closer to the edge before I would back away and make her beg for more. Soon, her hips would be gyrating, and I would have to hold on to her to make sure that she didn’t fall out of the chair.

  To watch her cum, it was a beautiful thing. Her legs looked like they were fighting the air; her skin was damp from the heat we created; and her face, her beautiful face, was twisted and unfamiliar. She was in paradise, but I, despite the triumph of making her cum, felt little to nothing. If that had been Jamilla, tasting her would have been the epitome of satisfaction. With Marlo, it just gave me a short rush, and afterward, I came crashing down.

  As she sat and caught her breath on the chair, I went into her bathroom to wash and sanitize my hands, mouth, and face. As I looked in the mirror that hung above her sink, I saw myself, and there was nothing there. Marlo was cool, but she was just a filler chapter. I’d used her to get myself from what was to what would be. She was a transitional passage, and her purpose had been served. After washing up, I told her that I had to go. When she asked for an explanation, I offered her none. Just told her that it had been fun and that she should never forget what we had, no matter how brief it was.

  * * *

  I would have thought that Jamilla would be on my mind at that point, but surprisingly, she wasn’t. Instead, another girl who I missed just as much came to mind, and I needed to see her right then and there. I looked at my phone and saw that it was going on midnight. I went through my contacts, found the one I wanted, and dialed.

  “Ay, yo, Rodney, what are you doing?” I said into my phone when Rodney answered. “So, can you meet me at Smiley’s place? Yeah, yeah, I know, but I have to see her.... Nah, I just don’t want her to act all crazy and have her brothers fuck me up or something, so I’m not even going to call first.... Right. Shit wasn’t right last time I saw her.... Okay. See you there.”

  Rodney was a bit shocked but said he would meet me there.

  * * *

  I sat in my car in front of Smiley’s house and ducked down as Rodney went to her front door and waited for her to come out. She soon appeared, and I watched as she smiled and gave Rodney a hug. They stood talking for a few as I listened to their conversation through my phone. He had called my phone and then put his phone in his pocket so I could hear everything.

  “Have you seen Niya?” Rodney asked.

  She took a minute to answer, and with as much attitude as she could muster, she replied, “Hell, nah. The last time I saw her, she was throwing me out of her house. Can you believe that shit? And here I was thinking that we were friends.”

  “Come on, Smiley. You two are friends, but friends fight, and they also make up. So, would you want to see her now?”

  Smiley didn’t answer. She stood there thinking, I guessed.

  “Look, Smiley. I know for a fact that Niya still cares about you.”

  “Oh yeah? How do you know that?”

  Damn. Her question made me a little sad. No matter what, I would always care about her, and I wished she knew that.

  “Maybe I’m not the right person to answer that question. Maybe you should ask her.”

  “I’m not fucking calling her. You will never understand, but that shit hurt, Rodney.”

  “You don’t have to call her. She’s here, in her car.”

  With that, I got out of my car, walked around it, stepped up on the curb, and leaned against the hood. She just stood there looking at me. She was maybe ten feet away and could see me clearly. I could also see her. The pain, the shock, and the anger that were on her face said it all.

  Rodney took her hand, and at first, she put up a fight. I felt so damn bad as I watched her. She looked like she wanted to come over to me, but her pride was a roadblock. I had hung up my phone and listened as Rodney convinced her to come my way. She walked slowly, her thick body sweeping through the air gracefully, as a battle was still being waged within her. She would later tell me that she had been pissed but loved me, that she had never wanted to see me again but had missed me, and that she had wanted to punch me in the face but would never hurt me.

  Once she was in front of me, for some reason, I felt like I wanted to cry. Didn’t know why, but maybe it was ’cause I knew that I had hurt her . . . because of Jamilla.

  “Hey, Smiley,” was all I offered.

  “Hey.”

  I was kind of stuck and didn’t have the heart to say much more. I knew what I wanted to say, but I just didn’t know where to start.

  As we stood there, Rodney leaned on my car and started to split a blunt. I asked him to get us a bottle and handed him the money, which he refused to take. He walked away, and we were finally alone.

 
“I miss you, Smiley.”

  She rolled her eyes, and my hands started to sweat. I was acting cool, but inside, my mind and my heart were all over the place.

  “Look, I guess I should start by saying I’m sorry. I should have never put you out of my house, let alone put my hands on you,” I said.

  “Whatever. You good.”

  Okay, so she was going to make this hard for me.

  “Come on, Smiley. You know that you’re my fave. Always have been and always will be my favorite.”

  I pulled her toward me. She fought, but it was really no fight at all. I pulled her between my legs and took in her scent. She always smelled so damn sweet, as if she bathed in Victoria’s Secret Pure Seduction body spray. I had always liked that body spray the most out of all of them.

  “Niya, come on. Let go of me.”

  Again, she tried to put up a weak fight, but I wasn’t letting go.

  “Niya, let me go!”

  She pulled out of my arms for real that time, but as I tried to pull her back to me, her truth came out.

  “No. Don’t touch me. This is not a game to me. You hurt me so damn bad, Niya. You know what the fucked-up part about this is?”

  I didn’t answer her, because as she spoke, she’d started to cry. I could tell that she was trying to hold back her tears, but it wasn’t working.

  “You did that shit to me for another bitch. Yeah, that hurt, but your words . . . calling me a fat bitch . . . You knew that it would hurt me the most.”

  “I know. I know. I’m so sorry.” Again, I tried to pull her to me, but she pulled away.

  “Yeah, you knew, yet you still did that shit. Being with you, I was free. You never seemed to see the extra pounds. You always treated me as if I was the baddest bitch. You made me feel, as if for the first time, that I could be open, I could be free, and I could be me without the insecurities. Without even knowing it, you helped me love myself, and with just a few simple words, you made me feel as if you took off your blinders and you saw me as the rest of the world does.”

  Goddamn. She was fucking killing me. I couldn’t hold back anymore. Tears started to fall, even though I was trying to hold on to my gangster.

  “I’m so sorry, Smiley. I swear to God I am.”

  “We had always been friends first, Niya, always friends first, and for you to do that to me, because of Jamilla . . . Well, I was fucked up for a little bit. I had fallen in love with my friend, and she didn’t even give a damn.”

  I started to pace around her. I felt so damn low at that point. She was still crying, and so was I. I grabbed on to her from the back and kissed her neck.

  “Smiley, baby, please, you have to forgive me. That shit was fucked up, I know, but please. I love you, and it will never happen again.”

  She turned around and hugged me tight. She didn’t have to say a word, ’cause I knew that she had forgiven me.

  After Rodney came back, we chilled outside and spoke about us, about me, and about life. She told me that she had seen the video and that she was so happy for me. When she asked about Jamilla, I told her that I was taking a break from her.

  “Damn, Niya. I ain’t know that things were that bad,” Rodney said, all wide eyes.

  “Man, I just got to wean myself off of that. I love her, she’s my friend, but that’s it, and I have to accept that shit,” I revealed.

  Both he and Smiley looked surprised, but it was all true. I would always be there for Jamilla, but like an alcoholic, I had to stay away until I could be around her without wanting a sip of her.

  I knew that things might not ever be the same, but at least I had some part of Smiley again. I had a part of Smiley back, a part of a true friend. I drove home drunk, thanked God that I made it, and slept well. A day without Jamilla wasn’t as bad as I had thought it would be.

  Chapter 51

  Jamilla

  I had seen Niya’s text when she sent it, but I just didn’t know how to answer it. What I had read in her notebook, man, it was hard to swallow. I was going on thirty-six hours without speaking to her or seeing her, and it just didn’t feel right. The funny thing was, after that one text, she hadn’t hit me back up. That was not like her, and the truth was, I was hurting inside. As Mary’s voice singing “Sweet Thing” came out of my radio, I tried to concentrate on finding the right person to do the cover for my book.

  “I wish you were my lover, but you act so undercover,” Mary sang.

  Damn. There was no way that I would be able to think of anything else until I spoke to her. I hadn’t seen her before, during, or after classes. I hadn’t even bothered to wait for her to give me a ride and had opted for the city bus instead. I picked up my phone to text Niya but was stopped by a knock on my bedroom door.

  “Jamilla, someone is here to see you. They are waiting at the door.”

  I jumped out of my desk chair and ran to the mirror. Why would she just show up without texting me first? I combed through my hair, checked for eye and nose boogers, and put on a little lip gloss. I pulled off the sweatpants I had on and threw on one of the pairs of extra-tight jeans she had bought me. If she was going to see me while still being pissed at me, I thought that I should at least look good.

  I walked to the door and wondered why she just didn’t come in and at least stand inside it. I took a few seconds to catch my breath and calm my nerves. When I felt steady enough emotionally, I pulled open the door and was shocked that it wasn’t Niya.

  “Rodney, what are you doing here?”

  He smiled and asked, “What? Not happy to see me?”

  There he went, showing off that sexy smile of his.

  “No, no, it’s not that. I just wasn’t expecting to see you on the other side of my door.”

  “Can I come in?” he asked as he leaned against the wall. I took a second and looked him over. He was fresh to def. He and Niya always dressed well, with everything almost perfect and in its place.

  “Sure. Come in. We can hang out in my room.”

  He walked in but didn’t follow me to my room. I turned around and looked at him, as if to say, “You coming?”

  “How about we go to my place?”

  I stood there wondering what was wrong with my place.

  “I need to talk to you, and I don’t need anyone listening in,” he said as he flashed another smile that was sure to get any straight female with a vagina wet.

  I told Marie to lock up as I grabbed my keys and phone, and then I headed out with him.

  “Niya won’t be there, will she?” I asked as we got into his car.

  “Nah. She’s out working.”

  I rolled my eyes and sat back and enjoyed the ride.

  * * *

  We had been in Rodney’s basement for about an hour, just chilling, listening to music, drinking, and drugging. Weed smoke filled the air, and its clouds danced in the air as it made us mentally fuzzy. He was cool and made me laugh. He was a great distraction. He came over to the couch and sat next to me. I looked at him, still laughing from his last joke, as curiosity crept in.

  “You said you wanted to talk to me. What about?” I asked as I laid my head in his lap. I looked up at him, and for the first time, he seemed a little uncomfortable. “Aw, come on, Rodney. Don’t get shy on me now,” I said as I reached up and touched his hair. I had been wanting to do that for the longest, and the berry Cîroc had given me the courage to do so.

  “I’m not shy. I just don’t really know how to ask you this.”

  “Just spit it out, Rodneyyy,” I said, elongating his name, as I tickled his neck.

  “Okay, okay. Wait, I won’t be able to talk with you playing with my neck.”

  I stopped messing with his neck and waited.

  “Okay, so, what I wanted to know was . . . are you gay?”

  My body went stiff, and I could no longer look at him. “Why would you ask me that?” I asked as I stared at the wall in front of me.

  “It seems like you and Niya have things going on, and I wanted to ask and m
ake sure before I told you something.”

  I didn’t say anything for a while. I just sat there—we just sat there—smoking and breathing.

  “What did you want to tell me?” I finally asked him. I wanted to know what his question was before I answered him.

  I watched him breathe, smoke, and drink. I could tell he was nervous, because his hands shook as he held his cup. The shaking was slight but noticeable.

  “So, um, well, I thought . . . I mean, I think that you’re real pretty, and well . . .”

  Oh my God. My heart was racing, and I couldn’t believe my ears.

  “What I am trying to say is that I like you, Jamilla. I know it’s fucked up, but I just can’t help it. That’s why I wanted to know if you are gay and if you and Niya got something going on.”

  I couldn’t speak right away. I needed to take everything in. Wow. He had blown my mind.

  “Rodney, I’m not a lesbian. Niya and I are close, and I think that our close relationship blurs the lines for me at times. I love her, but I still like men.”

  What I should have said was that I still liked men too.

  He flashed that beautiful smile of his again and said, “So, can we talk? I mean really talk?”

  A part of me wanted to ask, “But what about Niya?” but I had to remind myself that I wasn’t her girl and, well, I wasn’t a lesbian.

  “Yeah, we can talk. Go ahead. I’m listening,” I joked.

  “Nah, really. As long as you’re free and unattached, I really wanna get to know you. And well, if you’re bi, just tell me now. I just don’t want any surprises.”

  I reached up, ran my hand through his hair, and let it rest on the back of his head. I leaned up, pulled him to me, and kissed him. When I did it, I wasn’t sure of why, but later it hit me that I was trying to convince him that I was into men. I was also trying to convince myself.

  “Ay, yo, Rodney. I just spoke—” June had come running down the stairs and stopped mid-sentence as Rodney and I jumped up and tried to get ourselves together. He just stood there, looking from me to his brother.