naked black girls

by Ray G.

  What are you going to do Eve? Can’t afford Shanika. Damn it. What am I going to do?

  You said it was time. Can’t do the same thing anymore.

  I know. I know.

  “IT’S AN obsession Eve.”

  Here goes Alice. Once again. I don’t have time for this. Especially not before our drinks arrive. I make mention of this fact. She doesn’t care…

  “Black girls. Black girls. Black girls. Always talking about black girls. You’re an obsessive fetishist darling.”

  I knew I shouldn’t have mentioned Ms. Heavy C-Cups. Why do I do this to myself?

  Shit.

  She has more to say. She always has more to say, “It isn’t about love or cultural appreciation Eve. Dark skin gets you off for some reason. That’s all it is. It’s no wonder you haven’t mustered up the courage to say anything. You’re afraid that your attraction is offensive and that it will show. Come on Eve, you’re too smart not to see this.”

  Alice, why do I agree to do the drinks-after-work thing with you? Can’t stand when she tells me what I am. I don’t talk to anyone because I’m scared shitless, not because I’m an obsessive fetishist. Whatever that is. But I know where she’s going. She wants me to talk about the why. Why do I love black girls?

  I don’t know. I really don’t.

  I like other girls of other races, but black girls just do it for me and I don’t really wanna know why. It’s no different than how…

  “…blondes do it for you Alice.”

  “Don’t do that Eve. I don’t carry on incessantly about blonde women.”

  “No, you just date them exclusively.”

  “That’s just because.”

  “Well then it’s just because for me too.”

  “No need to get defensive Eve.”

  Where is my damn Long Isl—

  Finally.

  Two swigs and half of it’s gone. Okay, now what were you saying Alice? Oh yeah, I’m being defensive. You got it all wrong, “I’m not being defensive. I’m just tired of you always beating me up over this.”

  “I’m just trying to protect you Eve. You’re naïve, inexperienced. I’ve seen plenty of girls get burned by the objects of their desires.”

  I’m done with you Alice. Objects of their desires? Why do you always say shit like that? Two more swigs. She’s got more to add to her Starpoint riff…

  “These women know they’re being put on pedestals and they exploit this. They know they’re the treasure, the trophy, the thing hungered for. You need to be careful out there or else these girls are gonna eat you up.”

  Wrong choice of words. She catches it…

  “You know what I mean Eve. Don’t need one of your sarcastic responses. I just don’t want you putting these girls on pedestals.”

  “No pedestals Alice. Just king-sized mattresses.”

  “Eve. Please. Be serious. For once.”

  “Alice, I just like black girls. Damn.”

  “Don’t you mean African American?”

  “No. African American girls make me feel guilty.”

  She laughs, “You’re not funny Eve.”

  “Look Alice, I don’t know why I love black girls. I just remember seeing Erika Alexander when I was—”

  “Who?”

  “She played Maxine Shaw on the TV show Living Single.”

  “Never heard of her or the show.”

  “Well she’s like beyond beautiful, like the most perfect creature to ever walk the planet and the show is beyond awesome. Anyway, when I was in my early teens I used to watch it religiously and every time she popped on screen there was like this nuclear reaction in my pants.”

  Alice is in hysterics. It must be the alcohol. She calms down, “What was it about this Erika Alexander that caused the moistness?”

  “I don’t know Alice. I just knew I loved her and wanted her to put my head in a figure-four leglock.”

  “Well, I like cheesecake because it tastes good. That’s my reason. You gotta have a reason.”

  I want to shoot back something witty about black girls tasting good, but I’ve never tasted a black girl before, hell, haven’t tasted any flavor of pussy before. Why? Why is that? Why am I so damn scared? What is there to be afraid of? Rejection? Is that it? Or is there some truth to Alice’s words? Maybe I don’t want to deal with all those uncomfortable racial and cultural issues. Maybe I am just an obsessive fetishist driven by lust for the exotic. Seeking women who contrast me in superficially extreme ways. Or…do I just fucking love black girls?!

  Where’s the damn waitress?

  “I don’t want you to think I’m beating you up Eve. But you know I’ve been around the block, seen a little more than you, done a little more than you.”

  Yes, yes, I know Alice. You great lesbian sage.

  I gotta do something. This is all getting very old. Very fast.

  It’s time.

  Well then, stop wasting it.

  One more drink.

  LET’S SEE…hmmm…keep it simple…Single White Female seeks…no…keep it simple…SWF…gotta look like I know what I’m doing…SWF seeks SBF for friendship and possible LTR…so specific, but so what. It’s time. Now for the meat…

  I’ll write something simple. Honest. Something about the things I like. Videogames. Nina Simone. Living Single. What else? Oh…mention that I live alone. That I’m employed. Okay. Looks good. Should I include a picture?

  Quickly peruse the pics on my hard drive. Nothing flattering. Maybe I can take a pic.

  Snap a few with my phone. Horrible. No problem. We’ll just go with a simple your pic gets mine.

  Awesome.

  Time to post this bitch.

  Now we wait.

  What to do.

  naked black girls maybe?

  No. Resist the urge. No more digital ass. Time for the Real Her.

  This is exciting.

  Flip on the TV.

  Yes!

  Living Single is on. The one where the guy from Oz claims he’s Jesus. Perfect. Max is all over this one.

  New mail!

  so u can host?

  Can I host? What’s that? There’s a picture attached.

  Damn!!! It’s a close-up of her region. Full, thick juicy lips. Bright pink in the middle. Gorgeous deep dark skin surrounding. Quite lovely actually. Biting my lip actually. Let’s respond…

  What do you mean?

  This is fun. Why haven’t I done this before?!

  Oh shit! Another message! Different girl!

  I love videogames too. Especially Ms. Pacman…lol! Don’t know who Nina Simone is. Oh, and Living Single was my shit!!! Hope you like my pic!

  I don’t. It’s all face. Stern. Not the most inviting. And she doesn’t know who Nina is?! I’ll pass on her.

  New message from Ms. Pretty Pussy or more accurately chocoboi84…

  i mean if u was tryna fuck would we get down at your place? i can’t host…and what’s good with the pic?

  There’s another pic attached. It’s titled ‘my arsenal’ and it features four dildos of differing lengths and colors. Interesting. Seems this girl is all about action. My ad specified a desire for friendship and possible LTR, not casual encounters, but I am intrigued. Very intrigued. I should send her a pic. Maybe something a little risqué. Have a little fun. Give her a little bra and panti—

  Wow. Another response. This one is from KiKi1977…

  It’s so cool to come across someone who loves videogames. I absolutely love playing videogames! One of my favorites is—

  Let’s see what the pic looks like.

  Not half bad. Cute. Big smile. Baby fro. Caramel complexion. But for some reason I’m not really feeling her. Honestly, it’s because of chocoboi84. She’s got my mind racing. I load up her first pic again. Delicious.

  Hmmm. I really should have a little fun. Put my creamy sexiness to the test. Send her a body part pic. Follow her lead. No face though. Not just yet.

  In the bathroom now. Topless. To cover the nipples o
r not to cover the nipples. That is the question. Fuck it. Let’s give it to her raw.

  SNAP.

  That’s perfect.

  Pure unadulterated milkyness.

  I send it along with a cheeky preface…

  this is what’s up.

  I can’t believe I’m just now doing this! This is great!

  Where’s that bottle of wine I was saving for a special occasion?

  There it is. Top of the fridge. In the back. Dusty as shit.

  Pop the cork. Straight to the head. Warm, dry, not really tasty, but who cares. I’m having fun. For the first time in a long time. Oh, there’s my chocoboi…

  damn baby…i like…i really like. now let me see that pussy.

  Oh, she’s raising the stakes. I’ll oblige. Now what’s the best way to get a pussy shot? The bed maybe…

  Sitting on the edge of the bed. Legs open. Knees in the air.

  SNAP.

  That’ll do. I send it, subject line: that pussy.

  I gulp down some more wine. Damn this shit is nasty. But it’s working. I’m floatin.’ A reply from choco comes in…

  oh shit. u got that fire pussy. love the red hair baby. i’ll put my face all up in that. u tryna kick it?

  Uh…I’m stuck. I’m not really ready to kick it. I don’t know this girl. All I know is that she has a really, really, really pretty pussy and an assortment of colorful dildos. I can twirl to the idea of kicking it. But to actual do it I…wait a minute. Wait a goddamn minute. It’s supposed to be time Eve. Okay, fine, but shouldn’t I go for someone like KiKi1977? She was cute.

  She bored you.

  Yes she did. But that’s only because chocoboi came with the sexy stuff. In a few hours my face could be consumed by that gorgeous pussy of hers. That’s why I’m so smitten. The girl could look like Danny Glover for all I know. Doesn’t seem to matter right now. She likes my fire pussy. That’s all that matters right now.

  If Alice were here she would probably…

  Fuck Alice.

  Get yours Eve. Get yours.

  Okay. Let’s take this to another level…

  I don’t mind hanging out, but I would love to see your beautiful face. Can you send me a face pic?

  I must be starving for some pussy. Itchin’ real bad. So what. So the hell what! Knew I loved girls since I was eleven and haven’t acted on it until now. I let boys fondle me and men penetrate me. Why? Hated every minute of it. Just did what I thought I was supposed to do. What everyone said was natural. I thought that maybe they would fuck the girl-love outta me. But all they did was affirm and reaffirm it with each nauseating thrust. Just because our pieces fit doesn’t mean we fit.

  sorry babe, i don’t do face pics, but trust me i ain’t a bad lookin bitch.

  Damn. Let’s try another angle…

  What celebrity do people say you look like?

  What if she says Erika Alexander? That would be ridiculous and my head would explode. Actually no, there is only one Erika. If she said she favored her I would call her a liar and tell her I don’t kick it with liars. Just hope she doesn’t say Danny Glover. She doesn’t…

  n’bushe wright…if she had a fade

  Don’t know who she is. Let’s run a search…

  Oh. Oh my. Not bad. Not bad at all! Even when I picture her without the hair. I think I might be tryna fuck.

  NO CUSTOMERS in the shop. Like usual.

  No gay-ass RPG on the big screen. Unusual.

  Wyatt’s behind the counter. Looking off. Seems lost. Not his normal self. He didn’t say a thing when I walked in and I’m running a solid half-hour late today. Don’t think he even knows I’m here.

  “Wyatt.”

  He snaps out of his daze, “Yeah.”

  “You cool?”

  “Not really.”

  Shit. He’s going to whine about something.

  Or maybe not. He’s returned to his daze. Now I’m curious. I should investigate further.

  Gonna have to wait…

  Somebody walks in. A paper grocery bag full of games. Old ones. Looks like a lot of PS2 boxes. He plops the bag down on the counter. Quite a few duplicates. Some triplicates. A lot of fishing titles. All shrink-wrapped. With what looks like glue residue in the right hand corners. Wait a minute here.

  The kid, he can’t be no more than fifteen, notices my suspicion. He’s got an explanation, “My dad got ‘em for me. I got good grades. I just don’t really like these kinda games.”

  I look to Wyatt. He’s usually all over stuff like this, playing junior detective an’ shit, but since he’s being unusual today he’s not even paying attention. I gotta go this one alone. I’ll go with the routine line of questioning, “Are you looking to get store credit or cash for these?”

  “Store credit. I need to buy a points card. I wanna get that Can You? game. I heard it’s only gonna be available for download.”

  Only available for download—the scourge of stores like this. And it seems that’s where everything is going. Tangible media is dying. Seems like we’ve been selling more of these points cards than games in recent months. Why pay fifty to sixty bucks for one game when you can lay down that same amount on a points card that allows you to buy four or five. Online. On demand. 24/7. And more often than not they offer a more satisfying experience than the overpriced supposedly triple-A shit. Obsolescence, here we come.

  “What about the gun…with the pulse sensor thing?” I ask.

  “You can order it from their website. They said they’ll be available in stores when the game comes out—whenever that is. But if you have a camera peripheral you can use a controller. I have a Kinect so I won’t need it.”

  I quickly run the kid’s games through the computer. Like I suspected—all worthless. Even with the store credit dude’s gonna have to come outta pocket for the card. This happens all the time. I let him in on the bad news. Doesn’t faze ‘em...

  “Whatever, I didn’t pay for this shit anyway.”

  He hands over the additional cash. Walks out with his points card. Smiling.

  “You know all of that shit was stolen right?” Wyatt breaks his silence.

  “What gives dude? I needed you to tell me that before he left.”

  He rifles through the games, finds one with a fragment of a price tag. An italicized ‘T’ features prominently. He holds it up, it’s one of three copies of Top Angler: Real Bass Fishing. “Just as I thought,” he says, “these are all Tech Czar games. They were stolen off of a moving truck. Last year when the downtown Tech Czar was moving to their new location out on the east side one of the moving trucks they used was robbed. A few kids have brought these in. I knew right away when I saw all the fishing games. Don’t know why that store carried so many damn fishing games.”

  “Then why didn’t you say something?”

  “Frankly. To be honest. I really don’t give a fuck. I don’t even know why I just told you all that. Guess it’s just a reflex at this point.”

  That was kinda funny. I’m smirking. Can’t let him see though. I hate the guy. Almost eviscerated him yesterday.

  Poor guy.

  Poor little annoying guy...

  “What’s the matter man?”

  He takes a deep breath. Like the deepest breath ever, then, “My dad kicked me out. He’s got this girlfriend. Bitch is all in his head.”

  “Is he for real or just frustrated?”

  “He’s for real. I got into it with the bitch last night. She said I—” He places his hand on my shoulder, “You don’t mind me calling her a bitch, do you?”

  “Is she a bitch?”

  “Bitch is an understatement in her case.”

  “Well then go ahead, I’m not offended. What happened?”

  “She was just talking general shit about me. All the typical stuff. Called me a loser who makes four bucks an hour jacking off to videogames.”

  That’s not typical at all. Actually quite funny, but I suppress my laughter. Not an easy thing.

  “She says I’m in
the way. I overheard her talking to my dad one night. She feels like they have no privacy when I’m there.”

  “You don’t have your own room?”

  “No, I sleep on the couch in the living room. She also hates that I play my games out there. My kissing games. That’s what she calls ‘em.”

  “Kissing games? Oh, I get it. The turn-based fighting. Funny.”

  “Yeah. She says it looks like all the characters are doing is running up and kissing each other with great fanfare. Her words. Before, when our relationship was a little better, she would watch me play them. She didn’t get it.”

  I don’t get it either. Can’t stand the lack of any real action. I’m all about the 2D fighters—hyper, turbo, dueling universes, tournament editions, Fatalities—that’s my shit.

  I really shouldn’t ask this next question, but there’s no way to avoid it, it’s protocol. To not ask would make for an unbearable awkwardness. Here goes, “Where are you gonna stay?”

  “Don’t know yet. I got enough for a couple nights at a motel.”

  “How many stars?”

  “What do you mean by stars?”

  “The rating. What rating can you afford?”

  “One that doesn’t care about ratings.”

  I know what I’m supposed to do here, but I don’t want to do it. I don’t want Wyatt playing his kissing games on my big TV either. I like living alone. Been doing it for twelve years. But look at the little guy. Yes, it is Wyatt. But I feel for the dude. He’s showing a real vulnerability right now. I should give ‘em a couple weeks. Another couch to crash on.

  No. Can’t do it Eve. Remember, you gotta host.

  Fuck my life.

  Do I do a good deed or get mine?

  I can do both.

  Yeah, I can do both! Send Wyatt away that night. Tell him to hit a bar or something while I destroy Ms. Pretty Pussy’s pretty pussy. Genius. Now to be the hero, “Dude, I got space. You can crash on my couch for a little while.”