Between My Thighs: An Urban Erotic Tale

by Naija

  “Maybe,” he said.

  “She’s about five-ten, brown skin, light brown eyes, and long hair. She’s sexy, but all my friends are,” Dallas said, attempting to arrange the plans for the evening.

  “How old is she?” Marcus asked.

  “She’s thirty,” Dallas responded.

  “Oh, yeah, what does she like to do?” he asked.

  “She isn’t really into the hip-hop club scene. She would enjoy a nice jazz or poetry spot.”

  “Is she freaky? You think she’d be down for a threesome?”

  “Maybe,” Dallas replied.

  “Well, I can grab one of my boys and we can take you guys out,” he offered.

  “Aiight, I’ll let her know,” Dallas said and returned to her seat.

  • • •

  I was sitting on the sofa, thinking about Troy and allowing my hands to linger over my pussy when I heard Dallas coming in the front door.

  “Hey, girl, we’re going out tonight. I figured we could hit a spot on Long Island since you’re into spoken word,” Dallas said.

  My body was calling for Troy. That orgasm I was about to have before Dallas walked in begged to be released, and since I was having neither, I was down for some poetic justice.

  “That’s cool with me. Who are we hanging with?” I asked. Dallas didn’t have a car so I knew she’d found someone to chauffeur us around.

  “Marcus, my friend from school, is going to take us out. He’s working on his master’s in international business and bringing a friend for you,” she said.

  He was the first educated man with whom Dallas dealt. I remembered him vaguely from one of her stories. My mind was fixated on Troy, and I was about to write him out of my diary when he called.

  “Hello,” I said.

  “What’s up, girlfriend? Yo, sorry I didn’t get back to you sooner. I definitely want to link up before you leave out,” Troy said.

  He was good at his shit. Immediately, I was ready to cancel my plans with Dallas and spend the rest of my evening with him, but since I already committed, I decided to postpone any adventure between the two of us until the time was right.

  “I’m going out with Dallas tonight,” I said.

  “Is that Jason?” Dallas asked, shifting her focus from what she was doing to my conversation. I looked at her and shook my head, as if she was disturbing me. She went back to what she was doing, but was still eavesdropping.

  “You sound like her,” Troy said. “When I first spoke to you on the phone, I thought it was her.”

  “If it were, what would you have said?”

  “That Jason wanted to speak to you, and when she put you on the phone, I would have been on the other end.” Troy laughed at his plot to get next to me without his boy or my girl recognizing the scandal taking place.

  Troy had his way with women. He was the type who could pull any lady, from classy to trashy, all in the same breath. He didn’t have to try hard either. He exuded a strong vibe, and regardless how high your guard, it was coming down at some point.

  “Let’s hook up tomorrow. Don’t stand me up either,” I replied jokingly.

  “Until next time. Stay sweet, girlfriend.”

  We ended our conversation, and I grabbed my things and hit the road with Dallas. Marcus seemed to be cool when he picked us up. For some reason, his boy was unable to make it, so it was just the three of us. It was okay because I wasn’t trying to hook up with his friend anyway. I was more interested in getting the night over for my date with Troy.

  Marcus was financially set. He drove a Range Rover and lived in a prominent neighborhood on Long Island. We stopped by his house so he could change clothes. While Marcus got himself together, I logged onto his computer to check e-mail and things at my office.

  “You mind if I hop in the shower real quick while you’re checking your mail?” Marcus asked me.

  “No, it’s alright.”

  “I’ll be back,” Dallas said a few minutes later.

  When she stepped her ass in the shower and fucked Marcus, I continued with my work like business as usual. The screams grew louder, and moans and groans escaped from the bathroom. Dallas was broadcasting to the world she was being fucked. Unfortunately, I was the only one in the listening party, and it made me focus more on what I should have been doing my damn self—fucking Troy.

  After the charade was over, Dallas joined me in Marcus’s home office. She’d been hollering as if she wasn’t handling the dick. I just continued with what I was doing until Mr. Baller, Shot Caller brought his ass out geared up and ready to roll.

  It was a nice crowd when we arrived at the club. A couple comedians were performing before the floor was opened for spoken word artists to do their thing.

  I’d been writing poetry for years, started back in college when I discovered I needed an outlet for the days of my life, but that night I just wanted to listen to the natives.

  “Go up there, girl. Do the damn thing,” Dallas demanded after open mic started.

  “I’m good. I’m not feeling like it tonight,” I replied.

  Although I loved poetry and spoken word, I wasn’t ready to get up and freestyle. Dallas wasn’t taking no for an answer. She’d already placed my name in the queue without my knowledge.

  “Is there a Dr. Howard in the house?” the deejay announced.

  Uncontrollable laughter came over us when I realized what Dallas had done. Once the spotlight hit me, there was no backing out.

  “I’ll get you later, Dallas,” I said, approaching the stage.

  I hadn’t prepared anything specific, and my mind was racing with thoughts of what to say to hold down the crowd. I glanced around the room, not expecting to see any familiar faces. When I noticed Troy in the back near the bar sitting with someone who resembled him—perhaps his brother—my words just flowed as our eyes met.

  My name is Raquel, and I’m sensitive about my shit.

  As I search myself trying to find myself, the only thing revealed is you. And in that moment, anticipation surrounds me, your love found me. Right in that place between my thighs, where orgasmic spills send chills through my spine. The lubricant from my pussy drips and remains behind as something wicked this way cums.

  A bed of emotions fills the air as you stand there. Dick hung. Tongue tied. Anticipating the ride I’m gon’ take you on.

  Yeah, I’m ’bout it as my brown erotic captures you. Anticipate the many ways I plan to love you. Plan to uncover you. Plan to slip, dip, tilt, and spit on your dick.

  Don’t trip as you sit in a daze, amazed at this shit. Anticipating the moment when you arrive. Your dick, my clit, the perfect fit as I wait, anticipating.

  The crowd was in an uproar. I sat and glanced in the direction of the bar. Troy was gone.

  “Where’s Dallas?” I asked Marcus when I returned to our table.

  “She went to the restroom just as you finished. Yo, girl, that shit was tight.”

  “Thank you,” I said, motioning for the waitress so I could order a drink as a voice whispered behind me.

  “You were sexy as hell tonight, and I anticipate being with you tomorrow, girlfriend.”

  Dallas returned to the table just as Troy departed. He approached me incognito, dropped something in my ear, and was out just like that. Marcus wore a twisted smile on his face, the kind that almost made me think he was jealous. He didn’t know Troy, so our cover wasn’t blown.

  The waitress arrived at the table with my drink in hand. “Here you are, miss,” she said as she placed a glass of Kendall Jackson Chardonnay on the table.

  “This is the drink I wanted, but I didn’t place an order yet,” I said, confused by her knowledge of what I was having.

  “Compliments of Mr. Grimes. He asked that I tell you ‘later girlfriend,’” the waitress said and walked off.

  Dallas stared at me intently before she said, “Nice job up there, Raquel. I knew you had it in you.”

  There was something going on with Dallas. I wasn’t sure if
she saw Troy or was just jealous because I was in the spotlight. The girl should have been used to me being the center of attention. She always followed my lead and couldn’t compete with my looks. I was gorgeous. Not conceited, just convinced was my motto. My body was sculpted. I’d inherited my silky-smooth skin from my mother, my height from my absentee father, and my sensual curves from Mother Nature. When I walked in any room, all eyes were on me, and whispers filled the air. I was the reason women had ribs removed, hoping to create that perfect waistline. I had both sexes gawking.

  “Thanks, girl,” I responded to Dallas. “That was fun. I haven’t freestyled in a long time.”

  Although I loved to write poetry in my down time, sharing it with others wasn’t common practice. Typically, I reserved my erotic thoughts for someone special. Seeing Troy in the place made me realize he was that someone.

  Chapter 2|

  It was getting late. The clubs in New York weren’t like those in Detroit, closing at 2:00 a.m. The party wasn’t going to end until six in the morning. I couldn’t hang that late, was tired and ready to get out of my clothes. We left the club around three o’clock that morning.

  “Why don’t you guys stay at my place tonight? It’s late, and I can take you home in the morning,” Marcus said. He didn’t feel like driving us back to Brooklyn, and Dallas, she was sloppy drunk. I didn’t like his idea.

  “Where am I supposed to sleep? I didn’t come to New York to be sleeping on the floor,” I said in a tone like you must be kidding, right?

  Marcus detected my opposition, and before I knew it, he offered his king-size bed as the alternative, suggesting there was plenty of room for the three of us, all jokes aside.

  With Dallas drunk, no other option really existed. I didn’t know how to get back to her house, and in New York, taxi drivers were not the nicest people. They would drive right past our black asses. One time we got in a cab and the driver had the nerve to ask us if we had money. So taking a taxi wasn’t an option. Besides, I didn’t know the cross streets to even begin giving directions. We were with Marcus until he decided to take us home or Dallas came down from her high.

  Dallas and I slept in the same bed anyway while I stayed at her spot, so it wasn’t a big deal. It was more the principle because I didn’t know this man.

  Marcus should have had a guest room. After all, he was living in a nice-ass house and flossing plenty of bling. Funny, all the bedrooms except his were unfurnished.

  I decided to remain fully dressed. I wasn’t about to entice him by removing articles of clothing that would reveal more of my voluptuous and toned frame.

  Dallas should have had enough of exposing me to her male friends. Back when we were roommates in college, I was lounging in my Daisy Dukes and bra one day when she and this dude walked into the room without warning. Before I could grab something to cover up, it was too late. He had seen enough, and apparently liked what he saw because the next day he called the room asking to take me out. History had a way of repeating itself because I swear the same shit happened with Troy and me.

  Marcus was cool with my decision to sleep in my clothes. He put on his boxers and climbed in the bed.

  “So what’s your profession?” he asked.

  “I’m a clinical psychologist,” I replied. Marcus seemed to have decent conversation throughout the course of the evening, although I wasn’t feeling his trick to spend the night at his house.

  “What does that consist of exactly? What’s your typical day like?”

  “Wow, that’s a tough one. Well, most the time my days are very atypical. My clientele is in the upper echelon of the financial class. That can be more demanding at times as their expectations are just as outrageous as some of the problems they feel they have.” Marcus laughed as I went on.

  “Seriously, I’m involved in integrating scientific knowledge and utilizing various research and clinical findings to promote the welfare of my clients. Often I assist with intervention and prevention. For some, it’s too late, and at that point, I make recommendations for institutionalization.”

  Marcus was impressed and asked more questions about my career. When he opened up the discussion to talk about his problems, he got a free session out of me.

  “So can I talk to you about a problem that I have?” he asked.

  “Sure,” I replied. He got comfortable.

  “My life growing up was no pretty picture. My mother was a junkie ho. I was conceived out of a side job gone wrong. My sperm donor, well, he came around as I got older and after my mother overdosed on that shit.”

  The animosity in his voice made me focus more on what he was saying and feeling.

  “The day my mother died was the happiest and saddest of my life. Happy because I didn’t have to put up with raising her and that lifestyle, and sad because there was no coming back from the dead.”

  Marcus reached over to the nightstand and opened it. I wasn’t sure for what he was reaching when he pulled out a joint, lit, dragged, and exhaled.

  I realized Marcus wasn’t looking for a consultation. He just wanted someone to validate his pain. I was trained to hear, feel, and relate, so when he asked, “Is there something wrong with me for feeling the way I do?”

  I simply replied, “No, there isn’t.” Marcus wasn’t the only one who had demons from his past. For me, drama started when I was in the fourth grade. My daddy promised he would pick up me and my half sister Kayla and take us shopping. Kayla was so excited. After the divorce, our father never came around. It was rare if he called. Kayla believed anything he would tell her, only to be let down and discouraged. I knew better. That day we sat and waited for our father to arrive. He never came.

  My mother always told us not to get our hopes up. She was right. It’s interesting how similar situations affect individuals differently. The lack of a father figure in our lives strengthened me and corrupted Kayla. Her mother died during childbirth and since our low-life daddy had both women pregnant at the same time, my mother took her in and raised her as her own. Kayla was an ungrateful bitch. She eventually went to live with our father when she turned sixteen. I hadn’t seen her since. Rumor had it, our father had one more child out there around the same age as us.

  Death, it surrounded my family like the plague. My brother Juwan was my mother’s firstborn. His dad died before I was born. Juwan and I did everything together. I was eighteen years old when he was murdered by our cousin. Our family was tainted, and for some reason, he was never charged with the crime.

  Something in that ganja Marcus was smoking must have made his dick hard because I felt him bump my leg, mistaking it for Dallas.

  “Wrong leg, nigga,” I said as we burst out laughing. The secondhand smoke must have had me buzzing, too, because when he climbed on top of Dallas and started fucking her while she was asleep, it took me two seconds to realize that he’d invited me to join.

  Once I snapped back into reality, I got my ass up, went to the living room, pulled out my cell, and called my boy Khalil back home.

  Khalil and I had an excellent relationship. He was my homie-lover-friend. When it came to licking my pussy, he was the best. No other man could work his tongue like Khalil. He knew how to eat it like the delicacy it was. He worked the dick nicely too. He would have my ass climbing the walls. My neighbors always knew when he was at my house. They could hear us fucking, and the sound of people making love, well, let’s just say by the time Khalil and I hit round two, the neighbors had made their late-night booty calls and jumped on the bandwagon.

  Khalil answered the phone, “Speak.”

  He was so damn sexy. We should have been an item, but we settled on the fact that we were good together and didn’t want to ruin that by complicating matters.

  “Hey, baby. How are you?” I asked.

  “How are you is the real question, love? At this time of morning, what jumped off? You still in NYC, right?” he asked.

  “Yeah, babe. I’m in the middle of some bullshit right now. My girl Dallas got us
up in this nigga’s house trapped. He didn’t feel like taking us home, so we crashed at his place.”

  “Oh, okay. Well, why aren’t you sleep?”

  “I was in the bed, but they started fucking, so I came to the living room.”

  “Your girl is in the bed with dude? He started fucking her while you were lying next to her?” Khalil asked.

  “Yeah. That’s basically what happened,” I replied.

  “Is your girlfriend bisexual?” he asked.

  “Not that I know of. Hell, she knows I’m not, so even if she was contemplating, she wouldn’t cross me like that.” I started to think about what Khalil was saying. I had known Dallas for more than ten years. I knew she wasn’t trying to drag me into a ménage-a-trois.

  “Trust me, baby. Your girl set you up. That dude was expecting you to get horny and join in. They were looking for some action for sure. He was hoping you’d start playing with your pussy. You know you sexy as hell, got these women and men turning heads.”

  Khalil educated me to something new because I never would have thought my girl intentionally set this shit up. His next comment sent me in a frenzy, and I started to get pissed, reflecting on how things went down.

  “How did it end up just being the three of you anyway? Wait, let me guess, his boy was supposed to originally go out with all of you, right?” Khalil had hit a sore spot, but I knew his words were true. Marcus entered the living room as I submerged myself in the conversation.

  “Please come back to the room,” he said. “I’m sorry about what happened. You don’t have to sleep out here.”

  Marcus stood there looking at me with the same respect and compassion he had earlier when he shared his childhood.

  “I’m alright, Marcus. I’m on the phone anyway, so do your thing,” I said and returned to my conversation with Khalil.

  It wasn’t long before our conversation was interrupted again. This time Dallas was grabbing her jacket and motioning for me to get up. I ignored her ass.

  “I’m taking you home,” Marcus said. He had returned to the living room, walked right past Dallas, and opened the front door, indicating it was time to go.