One Safe Place

by Alvin L. A. Horn

  “Now, take the woman who is deep into giving her soul to a man, well, that’s one of the reasons I was pissed tonight. The woman we did some work for tonight is a good woman. Even though I should have control of my emotions when we are doing business, this woman’s situation pissed me off.”

  “Okay, I’m cool with you dropping some knowledge about women on me. Did you come to this all on your own?” Mintfurd laughed.

  “Most of what I know came from the many conversations with my grandfather. He loved my grandmother who was blind. After she died, he had other women like Ms. Melfae and others. He was always honest with them, and gave them the choice to be in his life as he was. If they didn’t want to, he still loved them and kept them in his life as friends.

  “Later, when I traveled the world on assignment, I saw love in every language, and despite cultural differences, it was as my grandfather told me. Men are either honest or they’re not, and women are lovers of the soul despite the good or evil in men.

  “I observed and had a world view while working in Washington, D.C. It was not all, but a lot of folks there are looking for a mate or an escort or booty-fling in that town. I did see some strong relationships endure the onslaught of dog eat dog, and the other side of the moon weirdness. The political hoopla of playboys and girls in that town—it reeks of fakeness and lies, so much so that people accept someone lying to their face.”

  “That’s a lot, man—that’s a lot to think about for someone like me.”

  The two men dropped their conversation as Phyllis Hyman’s voice flowed in the room. She was singing “Hurry Up This Way Again.”

  “Oh how it hurts loving someone who has someone else

  So many nights I spend here all alone by myself.”

  • • •

  The song faded in to the instrumental version. Psalms responded to Mintfurd’s last thought. “Man, it’s a lot to think about no matter who you are, or where you are in life. There will always be more single people in the world, many of them telling that lie they want to be single. They lie, saying it’s not worth the effort, yet let the right person smile just long enough, and they rethink their position.”

  “Yeah, Velvet said that to me.”

  Psalms laughed. “She kind of said the same thing to me just recently. Of course, I’m sure she said it to you much nicer than she told me, but many can’t overcome some kind of hang-up. Hell, so many simply have the hardest time with the thought of being intimate with someone, so they become bitter and tear in to everybody else’s less than happy home to make it worse. Single people are often like functional drunks. They go through life twisted, but seem normal. Those same people toss and turn in the bed feeling lonely whether they are twenty-eight or eighty-eight.”

  “So what are you saying? Should a person be with someone just so they’re not lonely?”

  “Nah, dude, a person can be lonely even with a person humping them right at that moment. What I am saying is, if you’re lonely, be honest. Miserable people get in the middle of other people’s love affairs, and hate on everyone else’s relationships. Single people should shut the hell up talking about somebody else’s relationship. So many souls are depleted of a balanced insight concerning relationships, because they’ve ingested so much pain that they feel the need to vomit sadness upon others, so not to be alone in their lonely sickness.”

  Mintfurd shook his head. “Yeah, that’s scary when I hear that mess. We haven’t talked about this in years, but I told you way back when that I didn’t know about being in love, and having someone love me. Shit, my last girlfriend was in junior high. We’re talking about almost forty years, a lifetime ago.”

  Mintfurd looked out on downtown Seattle. He understood for every light flicking there was a woman nearby, but wondered where was the light that flickered for him? A man his size, six feet six inches and 400 pounds and not obese, but toned and simply immense—he was a novelty to most women. A man with a golden voice and poetic thoughts was single and lonely. He had been all his life. When he was younger and smaller, women did come his way, but he was so shy and reserved. While in college, he was introduced to paying for a woman’s physical love. Mintfurd’s mind and body overtook his heart’s need.

  Akilah brought two huge platters of food and two more beers. Three ladies came in and sat nearby. The ladies of the evening were done selling sex for the night, or perhaps they were on break and still had work to do until the break of dawn. They wanted some attention other than from men in the streets wanting to buy them and use them. The three ladies interrupted the guys with silly jokes about how big they were, and how powerful they must be. Their attempt at flirting wasn’t cute.

  Akilah quickly did her hosting job and redirected the working girls to turn their attention away from Psalms and Mintfurd. Mintfurd wished more places provided that same professional care of their patrons.

  Mintfurd did feel for the ladies, because even though he paid for his sexual needs with high-end expensive women, he felt the women sitting in the restaurant were no less women than those he paid a thousand a night to sleep with him. The only differences were more makeup, Macy’s vs. Kmart attire, cute heels vs. old, run-down heels, and sexual mileage. He realized he was the common commodity in the equation, adding to the destruction of women who were high class, and mostly ended up low class, like the girls sitting not far away, because he paid for physical love.

  Mintfurd made a change in life a nearly a year ago, and the only person he had told was Velvet. He was conflicted—the man needed the touch of a woman, but a year without having a nipple in his mouth made his dick get hard from the slightest thought of women.

  • • •

  Mintfurd’s sexual urge raged when he woke in the morning, and when he went to bed. After a year of being without physical love, his dick would get thick and heavy in his hand even when he pulled it out to take a pee most times. His mind ventured to past sexual experiences, and the last time flashed though his cerebral streams like lightning.

  The good thing about paying for sex and going through a professional service was he could order what he wanted, and needed. What he needed was a woman who was not uncomfortable with his size. Not simply speaking of his bodily size, but his penis girth. Long, yes, but also round. Some women had a problem putting their mouth around it and sucking it for very long. That meant few women could handle his hardness going into their pussy. She had to be wet. She had to be relaxed. Her pussy had to be receptive. Many times, women jacked him off with two hands instead, but even then, it was hard work.

  He told Velvet this was a problem, and she had to know for herself if it was true. Curiosity sent her legs twitching and striding to the workshop one day. “Let me see it,” she had demanded.

  He had laughed, and dropped his pants. The sight of his massive thighs was a sight for science, the look in her eyes had said. Then he had dropped his boxers that could hold three men, and there it was.

  “I would touch it, but that would mess up our friendship ’cause I would try to take it by hand back to the elephant you stole it from.” They’d shared an intimate laugh. When he decided to forgo having sex with call girls, Velvet would ask whether he had “fed the elephant” to check if he had fallen off the call-girl wagon. It was a little joke between them.

  “PB, I’ve heard it said with a woman, you share and learn to grow in love with a woman, but only another man can teach you to love women. It sounds like your grandfather shared a lot about learning to love a woman. I’m gonna share something with you.

  “The last time I had sex with a woman, she rode my hardness in reverse cowboy. She had her ass facing me, and I could see my dick spread her pussy as it went deep in her. Her hands were on my thighs and her ass was trembling from taking me inside her expanding pussy. She had to go so slow descending down on my thickness. Her pussy juices ran down faster than her pussy could take my dick. When she finally took as much as she could, she leaned forward and pressed her breasts on my thighs, resting as if she had run fr
om wild dogs. I could see my dick surrounded by her creamy pussy lips and I could see her asshole puckering and twitching. I tried to slide a finger in her ass, but my fingers are…”

  “With those big-ass fingers, oh hell no. Man, you can’t be a doctor and doing rectal examinations, dude. I see the size of your fingers, and I think surgery.” Psalms laughed hard, and Mintfurd chuckled.

  “Yeah, yeah, heard it all before. Anyway, once this woman adjusted to my size, her ass rose and came down working up in speed. Man, the visual from the last time keeps me horny as all get-out and lusting, wanting the bare skin of a woman curled into my body. She rode me for a long time, but suddenly she stopped and dismounted my hardness. The woman stood on the floor, and I sat up.

  “She said, ‘You’re a nice guy, really sweet, and I love that we talk for hours…after we have sex.’ Her eyes filled with tears for a while, and then she said, ‘You pay me well, but…I’m getting out of doing this. I found a man to marry me.’ She ran into the bathroom and came out a few minutes later and left.

  “Man, I sat there for hours, asking one question. Was I supposed to ask her to marry me? Was I?” Mintfurd leaned back in his chair and took in the city lights flickering.

  Psalms went to the Magnavox stereo, pulled an LP from the side-bin, and put it on the record player. A Marvin Gaye LP dropped, and “Trouble Man” played. He came back to the table as Akilah brought two more beers, and removed their empty food platters.

  Psalms jumped in with what he had wanted to get to from the start. “Ms. Darcelle Day is that woman. She is going to do whatever she can to please a man even if it inflicts heartbreaking pain. I want you to meet her. I’m going to give you her number, and you call her and ask her out.

  “This is a smart, intelligent, nonjudgmental woman. I think you’ll find you’ll have a lot in common. I know for a fact she is digging on you. Mintfurd, I think you can experience reality with her. She’s gonna give you every opportunity to be the man you are and not change how you are, I have to believe. One of the blessings is she wants a man who won’t lie and play games, and, well, you know that’s not who you are.

  “Dude, I know you’re a humble man. And she’s going to put energy in to having you be happy and pay attention to your relationship, first and foremost. I think you’ll see rather quickly neither of you is going to want to stay away from enjoying each other.

  “I can’t speak on whether she is going to be able to handle you in bed, but her experiences with the men she’s been with…well, she has an open desire to please.

  “I think you should put that out there from the get-go, about who you are, and what you want, so you don’t waste each other’s time. Let her know, you ain’t a little boy inside and out. As far as that goes, there is nothing that you shouldn’t share. If you’re not sharing everything, you could end up sleeping with an enemy. Some people are sleeping with strangers. Be each other’s best friend. Why, of course, that’s if you like her.”

  Another LP dropped, and a few pop and click sounds entered the room. People left and more came into the twenty-four-hour restaurant. “Strawberry Letter 23” by The Brothers Johnson made Psalms’ foot tap, as his hand played a little air guitar.

  “Oh, man, you playing a jam from way back. Look, check this out. PB, I know you ain’t a matchmaker, so I’ll give it a try. I’ll call her and ask her out. This may sound strange, but I have never asked a woman out on a date. I’ve asked women to hang out, but they were in the friend camp all the way.

  “I may not know much, but I do know how I would love to be touched, and how I would love a woman to talk to me. I may not know how I’ll be heard and understood. I don’t know what it feels like to be adored, and how would I inspire a woman to adore me, yet I know I need to find all that out.”

  The two men sat back in the chairs. Psalms went back to looking at the art on the walls. Mintfurd noticed a couple.

  A man and woman sat across from each other with the table lights setting them aglow. He saw what he thought look liked love on their faces as their lips pursed. They leaned in toward each other while they held hands under the table. Smiles adorned their faces, and their lips never parted to speak words. He saw a lot being said in their time and space, in them staring at each other. Mintfurd pushed his lips to the side. He sensed that the woman loved the man in front of her, and he assumed the guy was in love because he had a silly little boy look on his face. Mintfurd chuckled, thinking he might be jealous at heart. At least he was hopeful for a change.

  CHAPTER 29

  Difficult Conditions

  The room filled with a scream so loud it may have buckled the floor boards. Evita screamed with her body now tied at the ankles and the bed posts. Two leather straps held her wrists tied to the other bed posts. Naked. Oiled. Front and back.

  A female with a strap-on dildo entered into Evita. Evita could not see because of the black hood, but she felt the woman’s breasts on hers. She smelled the scent of a woman. The rubber dildo felt like a cold penis. Her vaginal walls and depth were not fully developed to take on an average-size penis, much less an artificially large one. Her own penis actually developed to a healthier size, relatively, but she was a female, physically and psychologically.

  She had sensitivity in both of her genitals, but her female insides were less developed and made sexual intercourse difficult. She would set the conditions for a man and make sure he understood how deep he could go inside her.

  She preferred sex with a woman, but she longed to be touched by man whom she could dominate. It became a skill of knowing and finding men with small penises. Part of her skill was in finding men with the right kind of freakdom to want to be with a hermaphrodite. She enjoyed being with a woman but had no desire to be with a woman wearing a strap-on, much less a big one.

  The room filled with a scream again.

  “Shut her up,” The Voice said. Evita felt the sting of a needle, and it took only seconds after the needle prick to feel relaxed and tranquil.

  This was the second day in a row of horrible violation. Yesterday she’d felt a man humping her and jacking off on her pretty feet. It had happened twice, two different men at different times. Each time they’d jacked off on her feet, and then each time she could feel a woman’s touch and mouth on her feet, licking and fondling. She could tell it was two different men. One had a tight small ball sac, and the other one had heavy balls that hung down.

  Each time she’d lain there and made no sound. She’d barely moved.

  The pain of having a body humping between her legs with a strap-on going too deep inside made her lose her control. She screamed. Now, shot with drugs, she felt her body slow down. Her heart had pumped hard before, but now it slowed as she felt warmth encasing her small penis, as if someone was sucking on her. Her body went to sleep, and her mind followed.

  CHAPTER 30

  Madam Secretary Brandywine

  Gabrielle

  “Speaking for the Washington, D.C. Royal Chamber Society, we want to thank the former Secretary of State, Madam Brandywine, for coming to the John F. Kennedy Center, here in Georgetown.

  “Madam Secretary, I found an excerpt from your speech quite noteworthy. If I may quote, ‘We as people have become consumed by pop culture, instead of having a culture that’s lasting and positive.’ On that note, that concludes the program for the evening. I thank everyone for coming out.”

  • • •

  Damn. Forty minutes later and I’m still shaking hands. I want to get out of here. Damn Bob is over there on the phone. He has seen me waving my hand repeatedly, signaling him. “Hello, Bob, hey, Bob, I’m sorry to disturb you, but I need to be moving along.”

  “I’m sorry, Madam Secretary; I was on the phone with GB. He wanted to know how your speech went tonight, and whether we are planning any other events for you while you’re back here in D.C.”

  “You say GB? You are referring to our former president, whom I served under.” I knew the answer, but it caught me off-guard. He may thin
k I’ll say something about me not wanting to support that mess down there in Texas. I know he’s upset with me, because I will not come out publicly and support giving federal funds to some mess he created by letting that company operate with no oversight. GB had better tread lightly with me. I don’t work for him anymore. I’m a private citizen and I may start expressing my own personal views on his horrible domestic policies and the after-effects…I’ll do it professionally if I do—”

  “Madam Secretary Brandywine, did I say something funny?”

  “No, Bob. Life has a funny way of telling you factors you already knew, but failed to recognize the importance.”

  “Well, I’m sorry you had to endure the long line of well-wishers; we just love you. Your town car is in the back, and I’ll escort you out.”

  “Thank you, Bob, but I’ll need to go to the restroom first. Please have my car meet me in the front. Always come in the back for security, and leave out of the front, even though a black person coming in through the back has a sad historical significance.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry, but now that we have a man of color in the oval office, things are equal for all—that’s the greatness of America, don’t you think? Even though you and I don’t agree with his policies.”

  I can’t wait to fly out tomorrow morning. I don’t miss D.C. and the phony over-the-top plastic people. You have to talk different languages here; the language of the real, and the language of the unrealistic. I just want to sit in this limo for a while and decompress, and fix me a drink.

  “Driver, I need to make some phone calls, and I don’t want to drop any of them, so stay parked here. I’ll let you know when we can go.”

  “Yes, Madam. Should I let the security in the front and behind us know we’ll be sitting here for a while?”

  “Yes, please. Tell them it won’t be long.”

  My security team has been hired as independent contractors. A service provided to me after serving in an administration. It’s on the taxpayer’s dime for life when I have to come to D.C., and certain other public appearances.