Between My Thighs: An Urban Erotic Tale

by Naija

  “And?”

  “And, I wasn’t falling for her bullshit. I had my boy take her home. He called me the next day, said she gave him some pussy.”

  “That’s it, huh?”

  “No. She asked if you were my girlfriend.”

  “What did you tell her?”

  “I said we fuck. That pissed her off. She tried to shed some tears.”

  His reply to Dallas aggravated me. He should have dealt with her ass, never allowing her to dance up on him, made it clearer that she had no chance in hell to get next to him.

  “Can you pick me up from LaGuardia Airport tomorrow? My flight gets in at 7:00 p.m.,” I said, shifting the subject.

  “Yeah. It shouldn’t be a problem. I’ll be finished working by the time you arrive. I’m going to be out on Long Island, so lemme give you another number to reach me in case my signal is out. My boy has Nextel, and his service works better out there.”

  Troy gave me the number to his friend as backup. I knew he was leaving out details about his encounter with Dallas at that party. She probably tried to fuck him and he wasn’t saying. Time would reveal all.

  That night when I got home, I had another message on my phone from Kristie.

  “Hello. I’m still watching you,” she said, breathing heavily into the phone.

  • • •

  When I arrived at LaGuardia Airport, Troy wasn’t there. I tried calling him, but I kept getting his voice mail. It was odd he hadn’t called and said something came up. Then I remembered what he said about his signal. I retrieved the number he’d given me from my handbag and dialed. Some bitch answered and said I had the wrong number. I got a fifty-dollar cab ride to my hotel. The whole evening I wondered what happened to Troy, if he was alright, and who the girl was who answered the number he had given me. I thought Troy was playing me for a fool.

  I didn’t sleep that night, worrying about Troy. When I linked up with the broker, the apartments he showed me were not up to my standards. The first one was somewhere off Flatbush Avenue. The block was layered in garbage, urine saturated the air, and drug dealers ruled the streets. When we entered the building, leading to the available unit, homeless people were spread across the steps. I stopped the broker, told him there wasn’t a need to go any further. He indicated they were going to be adding a deadbolt to the main entrance, and the apartment was really nice once you got inside. He was wrong. The apartment was horrendous and extremely overpriced. I saw roaches running around on the bright white paint, smelled dog shit leaking from the neighbor’s apartment and heard gunshots right under the living room window.

  “Get me the hell outta here,” I demanded.

  The next three apartments were also in the dungeon. I was discouraged and felt like the whole trip was a waste of time. I wasn’t from the ghetto and wasn’t going to live in it for sake of being in New York. I never had roaches, ever. After redefining to the broker what I was looking for, he promised to do a better job next time.

  Meanwhile, I left Troy several messages cursing him for leaving me stranded when my flight landed. As I drove home, a million thoughts raced through my head about how Troy had played me. He had done the same shit to Dallas. I should have known better than to trust him. I really thought things were different with us. Troy and I had a unique vibe.

  My block was jumping when I turned the corner. Sirens and lights flashed in the distance. An officer stood in the street, motioning for me to turn in another direction. I rolled down my window, and asked, “What’s going on, officer?”

  “We can’t let anyone down this street,” he replied.

  “I live down there.”

  “It doesn’t matter. We can’t have any traffic on this road until it’s been cleared,” he replied.

  “What’s happening?” I asked again impatiently.

  “There’s been an incident.”

  “What type of incident?”

  “Step out of the car and give me your identification.”

  The officer wasn’t giving me any details. From the redness of his face, he appeared to be nearing a boiling point. My questions had annoyed him, and my failure to quickly supply my license further pushed his buttons. I parked my car and walked briskly in the direction of my house. The closer I got, it appeared my neighbor’s house was surrounded by cops. Gladys, one of my neighbors, saw me approaching and ran to greet me.

  “We heard shots. I’m so glad you’re okay,” she said.

  “Yes, I’m okay. What happened? Where did you hear shots?”

  I had been living in my neighborhood for a long time. We never had drama, especially the kind where gunshots broke out on my side of town.

  Speaking to Gladys made me realize the incident was at my house, and not next door like I originally assumed. I glanced around the perimeter and noticed blood spatter and a white sheet covering something on my front porch. An officer grabbed me as I tried to bypass him. I spun around off-balance, almost landing on my face. “You’re disturbing a crime scene,” he exclaimed.

  “I live here damn it. What the fuck is going on?” I yelled, enraged.

  No one was telling me anything. I needed to get closer to my house. I pushed my way past the female officer and took off running toward my yard. When I arrived at my front door, it was clear someone had been injured. I searched the area for clues and finally saw something that looked familiar. It was a bottle of Kendall Jackson Chardonnay that had busted on the ground. I fell to my knees and snatched the sheet back. Lying beside the broken pieces of glass was Dorian. His body was riddled with bullets. An undulating scream came out of me.

  The medics had left him there for dead, but he had a pulse. “He’s breathing,” I screamed.

  “Move away from the vic,” a hefty voice said. I don’t know if the person hit me in the head or I passed out. When I awoke, I was in this dark gray room with a two-way mirror. I had seen these observation rooms before when I performed experiments. I had been taken in for questioning in Dorian’s attempted murder.

  I agreed to speak to the detectives without legal counsel. I wasn’t much help. The only person I could think of that would hurt Dorian was Kristie, and that’s what I told them. I wasn’t being charged with a crime. The officers hoped I could shed light on what may have happened. They released me and offered to give me a ride home. I called Khalil instead.

  • • •

  Three weeks passed, and I was still at Khalil’s. I was going to stay with my mother but she had a new man. I didn’t want to cramp her style. Besides, Khalil had been the perfect gentleman and comforter, running water for me to bathe, making hot cocoa, and massaging the stress from my body. I hadn’t managed to pull myself together after seeing Dorian’s body pierced with bullets. I’d fallen behind in my work, e-mails, and voice messages.

  I went to the hospital to visit Dorian one evening before heading over to my house. He was still in critical condition and in a coma. The hospital had officers outside his room, and one remained inside when visitors entered. The doctors said Dorian could hear, even though he wasn’t able to respond. I sat by his side for a couple of hours, talking to him, and praying for his recovery.

  It was tough going to my house. I could still see blood stains from the night Dorian was shot. I quickly gathered my things. I didn’t feel comfortable inside my own home. I grabbed my essentials and headed to my office. There were several messages from clients and friends checking to see how I was doing. Troy still hadn’t called. I sat down at my computer and logged on. I had 1,908 e-mails. The last one was from Dorian, the night before he was hurt.

  Dear Raquel,

  There has been so much that I’ve wanted to share with you since you’ve come into my life. I was on a quest to find myself, and in the midst of my journey, I met you. There are things I didn’t share with you because my life as I knew it was changing. I didn’t want to tell you I was going through a divorce and risk losing you. I feared you wouldn’t believe the words. I had to show you instead. I didn’t want to say anythi
ng until it was final. Actions are stronger than words. I swear I’ve been faithful to you since the day we became one. Kris is so crazy, sometimes I think she’d rather see me dead than divorced from her. I didn’t want you to be exposed to any of this. I really want to spend my time with you, I know it’s hard to tell lately as I pursue membership in this fraternity. You know how that is. You are the only woman for me. I love you, Raquel. I hope you’ll find it in your heart to forgive me. Let’s go back to the way it used to be when we made love in front of the fireplace with a nice glass of wine. Let’s get lost in each other again.

  Love you always,

  Dorian

  It was time to stop procrastinating, I went ahead and put my house on the market. There was too much pain in this city. After what happened to my brother and now Dorian, I wasn’t content any longer. I was really a city girl at heart, always had been. Wasn’t sure where it came from because judging from all the cows, sheep, and corn fields, I was in the country. It was time to just step out on faith and walk away from everything. My hometown zapped my energy, bruised my soul, and depressed the hell out of me.

  I placed my furniture in storage and moved in with my mother until my house sold or an apartment came through in New York, whichever came first.

  I’d been visiting Dorian weekly in the hospital. He didn’t seem to be making much improvement. In similar crimes, officers always investigated the spouse. It wasn’t long before they were questioning Kristie.

  • • •

  I went to church for the first time in twelve years. I was overcome with joy when I entered the sanctuary, and my spirit instantly lifted. The pastor was teaching on the subject of faith. He said that faith works now, not tomorrow. Faith is the evidence of things not seen, substance of goals. The devil wants us to think it’s too late to meet our goals, the reverend preached.

  The sermon continued, “God cannot be tempted with evil. Watch what you say because you will never rise above your confession.” The message was clear to me. I was going to start speaking things into existence, restore my faith, and act like a child who served a Father with many mansions. I prayed for the Father to deliver me from my afflictions, to renew my spirit, to heal Dorian, bless my family, and to conceal the wet spot that had formed as I reminisced about sexing Troy.

  Chapter 11|

  I need a vacation, I kept thinking to myself. The last time I’d been on one was for business, so that didn’t count. I decided to book a trip to Hawaii. I had the money, the time, and was on the next flight out.

  The plane ride was smooth, a plus for me since I was terrified of flying. Judging by the amount of time I spent in the air, you could never tell.

  I checked in at the Grand Wailea Resort & Spa in Maui. It was the perfect destination for relaxation. I intended to have a fabulous time. The bell hop took my bags, and I headed to my room to shower and slip into something sexy. The room had an awesome view. It overlooked more than forty acres of meticulously landscaped courtyards. The mountains and endless shore was visible. Hawaii really was paradise on earth. Maui was beautiful. The waterfalls were majestic. Something about the water purified me. Instantly, I felt rejuvenated.

  I put on my sarong, flip flops, and shades, and headed to the beach. I took my shot at surfing. That was unsuccessful. Instead, I rode the boogey boards and let the waves cleanse my spirit. The sunset was picturesque. I headed back to my room and rinsed the salt water from my hair and body before making my way to the spa for a little bit of indulgence.

  Oh my goodness, was the only thought that came to mind as I entered the spa, which set the trend for luxuriousness. My treat to myself was the lava-stone massage. My body quivered as six hands moved in sync over my entire frame. There were three experts with hot lava stones who used soothing oil to glide, rub, and knead out my rigidness. That particular therapy was known for reducing stress and increasing spiritual well-being. I concur. That was one of seven visits to the spa. I went each night while on the island.

  After dining at the Bistro Molokini, it was time to check out the club scene, but not before inhaling the breathtaking views of the Pacific and neighboring islands. The club wasn’t blazing. I stripped out of my sarong, exposing my bikini, and headed to the pool. I didn’t believe in swimming in the ocean at night, so the pool would suffice.

  I was at the swim-up bar when I met Nathan McBride. He was tall and athletic, just the way I liked them. His baldhead complemented his physique. It was smooth, like the rest of his skin. One thing that turned me off about brothers with bald heads were the ones who had those nasty bumps with shit oozing out of them.

  “I’ll have a glass of sangria,” I said, treading in the water.

  “Are you here with friends?” Nathan asked.

  I wasn’t going to admit I was vacationing alone because we just met. “My friends are on the island somewhere. How about you?”

  “I’m out here with my brother. We just wanted to get away and have a good time.”

  “That’s nice. Where are you guys from?”

  “Baton Rouge,” he said.

  “I heard it’s a great place,” I replied.

  “My brother, he lives in Detroit,” he volunteered.

  “Oh, get out. That’s where I’m from.”

  I couldn’t believe it. I always ran into people from my neck of the woods in far-away places.

  “My brother plays for the football team out there,” he said.

  Chances were I knew his brother. I knew all of the players. I was afraid to ask, but did anyway. “Who is your brother?”

  Sure enough, his brother was a rookie strong safety. Nathan actually played ball a few years back for the Arizona Cardinals. I should have known Nathan played sports, he had that ball-player walk, the one where men look like something heavy is dangling between their legs. I hadn’t actually met his brother before but remembered seeing him at a couple parties my friend had thrown.

  “So what are you doing when you leave here?” he asked me with an inquiring mind wants to know type look.

  “That depends,” I said, returning the look.

  “I would love to see you later.”

  “Perhaps that can be arranged. Are you staying at this hotel?”

  “Yes,” he said.

  He lifted himself from the pool, revealing his black Speedo. His body was robust. I was indiscreetly checking out his dick. He didn’t have those tight-ass shorts on for nothing. All I hoped was it wasn’t all balls in there.

  “Hey, Nate,” a young voice called out.

  My gaydar immediately went off. I had never paid his brother too much attention, but he appeared to be extremely feminine. He attempted to man up when he saw his brother had company.

  “This is um…I didn’t catch your name, sweetheart,” Nathan said.

  “Denise,” I lied.

  My name was unimportant. I didn’t plan on spending my life with this guy. Wasn’t even sure I was staying the night. We exchanged numbers and agreed to connect later if neither of us got into anything else.

  I slipped from the pool, laughing to myself as the men checked my tight ass strutting back to the hotel. I pulled out my laptop and Googled Nathan. His story checked out like he said. I’d found some articles about when he played in the league and came across another story revealing four of his five brothers all played professional sports. He, too, like so many athletes, had been injured. He now worked as a sports broadcaster and part-time model.

  I popped myself a quick e-mail saying, I’m going out with Nathan McBride, and if all goes well, I’ll be getting some tonight. That was my safety net in case that nigga turned out to be crazy; the police would have a trail of who last saw me alive.

  Before Nathan and I got busy, I asked my four questions that always preceded sex with new partners: “Have you ever fucked another man?” I asked.

  Nathan looked stunned before replying, “No.”

  “Have you ever thought about fucking another man?” I asked my second question.

  �
��Nope,” he said, laughing.

  “Do you have any diseases that you could pass on to me?”

  “No. Do you?” he asked.

  “No. What happens if there is an accident and I become pregnant?”

  “Damn, girl, you make a nigga scared to fuck. We don’t know each other, so if you get pregnant, I imagine you wouldn’t want to keep the child,” he said.

  Honesty. I could handle that. That was my first one-night stand, and I was right, the brother was hung like a horse. Better than a horse to be exact. He knew how to operate all that equipment too. Had me oochin’ and oowin’ silently to myself. He wanted to eat my pussy, but I wouldn’t let him. I didn’t have any dental dams and could get my pussy licked when I got home. I wasn’t sucking his dick either, wasn’t about to have me gagging up in his suite.

  The next day, I tried my luck at snorkeling in the Molokini Crater. It was amazing. Not what I expected. The first hour was scary as hell. A group of us had been practicing in the shallow waters where it was clear and the sand was white, but out in the middle of the ocean, where you couldn’t see the ocean floor, it was a different story.

  The remainder of my trip was spent whale watching, touring the island, observing the waterfalls, and dining like a celebrity. I’d stored Nathan’s number in my phone for future use, just in case we crossed paths in Detroit. My mother would have kicked my ass if she could see me out here getting buck wild, but fuck if I cared. Nathan had my pussy tingling, and it felt like he left some of that dick up in me each time the plane hit an air pocket on the way home.

  • • •

  Two months after I left Hawaii, my house sold for a nice piece of change. I left my things in storage and headed to New York, never looking back. I’d also made the decision to launch my own public relations firm. I’d studied communications in college, had a dual degree in the field, and wanted to take a break from other people’s problems. In addition, I could incorporate some of my freelance design work into the business. I wasn’t giving up clinical psych entirely—a few of my high-society clients retained my services, offering to fly out to New York for their appointments.