“Mmmm,” she moaned as she began to leak on his fingers.
He pulled up in front of her building and parted her lips with his tongue. He explored her mouth, while his fingers continued to stroke her below.
“In…side…” Jaylah said breathlessly. “Come…inside.”
They tumbled onto the couch, legs and hands and lips entwined. She straddled him, pulled her dress over her head, and tossed it to the floor. He fingered the black lace bra she bought for the night and pushed the straps down, tracing and her shoulders with his tongue.
He carefully removed her bra like he was unwrapping a delicate package and tickled her nipples with his fingers. She skimmed the top of his bald head with her lips, then leaned back as he burrowed his face into her soft belly, planting loud kisses from her waist to her thighs.
Jaylah undid his belt buckle; she was impatient and sick of waiting. “Fuck me, Johnny,” she whispered in his ear, “Please, please baby.”
He laid her down and slid off her panties. He dropped his pants, revealing a rock-hard cock standing at attention. He hovered over her, allowing his dick to slap between her thighs, and she grabbed for him, ready to feel him move deep inside her.
He rubbed her clit with the head of his cock causing her to beg him to fill her up. “Please Johnny…please,” she whined.
“You want me to fuck you?” he asked, already knowing the answer.
“Yes, baby…please,” she cooed.
He steadied himself, ready to push into her, but she stopped him. “Condom,” she whispered. “Use a condom.”
He froze.
“What’s wrong?”
A pained look spread across his face and he collapsed on top of her. “I…I don’t have one.”
“What?” she said, surprised.
Jaylah ran through a list of pros and cons in her head. She had been waiting for this moment for weeks, but was it worth risking a pregnancy, or worse, a disease?
“There’s a store on Blackstock. You can walk there and back in 20 minutes, fifteen if you run,” she said, rubbing his back.
“I can’t believe this,” he said, shaking his head, “how could I be so dense?”
“It’s ok, baby, just run to the store.”
“Maybe this is a sign,” he said, sitting up. “We don’t have to rush things. We’ve got all the time in the world.”
“No we don’t,” she cut in, irritation creeping into her voice.
“I’m sorry, Jaylah. Believe me, I want you—badly,” he said, pointing to his lap. “But we should probably slow it down.”
“I’m leaving next month,” she blurted out, “We can’t afford to slow it down.”
“Leaving? To go where?”
“Home. Back to L.A.”
“For how long?”
“Permanently. Unless something changes.”
Johnny looked like he’d been gut-punched. “What? You’re moving back? Already? You just got here.”
“I just moved for the summer. I’m supposed to leave at the end of August.”
He put his head in his hands and listened as Jaylah rambled on. “I never expected this,” she said, scooting next to him. “Jourdan, the Glamour gig, you.”
He flinched. “You’re leaving?” he asked again in disbelief.
“I don’t want to. I’ve already spoken to my landlady and she says I can stay another three months and I’m hoping Glamour will sponsor me. But if not, my Visa will be up at the end of the year, at the latest, and I’ll have to go.”
“Wow,” he said, pulling on his pants. “I can’t believe this.”
“You don’t have to leave,” she said as he quickly redressed. “Johnny…”
“I have to get out of here. I can’t believe you’re leaving. And I was thinking about—“ he hesitated, “I just need to clear my head and think about all of this.”
Johnny kissed her on the forehead and stumbled out the door. Jaylah curled up on the couch and tried to figure out how their perfect evening came crashing down. Instead of being wrapped in his arms basking in a post-coital afterglow she was hugging a pillow, afraid that he was pulling away for good.
She fumbled through her purse and found her phone. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. Didn’t know how,” she texted him. “Let’s talk about it, please? Miss you already.”
An hour later, Johnny still hadn’t responded.
* * *
Jaylah stared out the window of Hillary’s office on Old Bond Street, waiting for her editor to wrap up a call. Instead of rehearsing how she was going to convince Hillary to green light her idea for a column, her mind was on Johnny. It had been two days since he staggered out of her flat, reeling from the news of her impending departure, and they still hadn’t spoken. Six text messages, two voicemails, and a bottle of Syrah later and she was starting to panic.
“Sorry about that,” Hillary said, sucking Jaylah out of her thoughts. “Now, what’s this brilliant idea you wanted to discuss?”
“Well, I’ve been having a wonderful time working with Glamour this month and I thought it would be cool to transition to a recurring column. Sort of like Carrie Bradshaw’s Sex In the City but in London—and with a little less sex,” she laughed. “I’d continue writing about what’s hot in London, but with a bit of a twist.”
“I see,” Hillary said, tapping a pen to her chin. “And how would that be different then what you’ve been doing?”
“For one, I would will amp up the snark and write in my own voice, which I’ve kind of been holding back. And if sites like Jezebel and Clutch are any indication, it should resonate with readers and make my column a must-read for young women in the city and beyond,” Jaylah explained, trying to make her case. “Which translates to added revenue.”
“We both know how important that is,” Hillary said. “Go on, what else?”
Jaylah took a sip of her water before continuing. “I have some pretty extensive contacts from back home and can get access to just about any celebrity who passes through London if I want—Halle, Emma Stone, James Franco, Kristen Stewart, Rihanna—I’ve interviewed them all,” she said, hoping her name dropping would impress Hillary. “And with Jourdan’s help, I’m building my list here as well.”
She paused to let her promise of celebrity exclusives sink in. “And,” she said, continuing her sales pitch, “I briefly mentioned the idea to a woman I met an event, and turns out, she works with IPC. She really wants me to pitch the column to Marie Claire, but I told her I wanted to see what you thought first, considering you’ve been so great so far.”
Hillary’s eyebrows shot up at the mention of Glamour’s rival publication. “I see. Well, I certainly have a lot to think about. I assume you’d need to get things sorted with immigration if we were to run with this idea.”
Jaylah nodded. “Yes, so far, I’m scheduled to leave at the end of next month, but I would love to stay on. I began my career at Glamour as an intern in New York, so this feels like home,” she said, trying to wrap things up a little gratuitous ass kissing.
“Let me talk it over with the other editors,” Hillary said, “I should have an answer for you by next week.”
“Sounds great,” Jaylah said gathering her things. “And I’ll have my next article in your inbox Wednesday morning.”
“Wonderful.”
Jaylah hurried out of the building to text Jourdan about the meeting. “I think she bought it. Meet me at Fox & Anchor in a half hour.”
* * *
“So, do I get to keep you?” Jourdan said as soon as Jaylah sat down. She helped her work on her pitch the entire weekend, and was anxious to see if her friend would land the column and be able to stay in London.
“Don’t know. She seemed really interested, especially when I brought up Marie Claire.”
“See! I told you that would work!”
“You should have seen her face. She was trying to look calm, but you could tell she was pissed. Let’s pray she goes for it,” Jaylah said.
; “I hope so. L.A. has enough people already, they don’t need you,” Jourdan said, squeezing her friend’s hand.
“I think my mother would disagree.”
“Tell her to come on over, too. If she’s anything like you, we’ll get on fine.”
“Actually, she’s kinda like you—opinionated, pushy, slightly annoying,” Jaylah teased.
“Oh, shut up,” Jourdan said before changing subjects. “Any word on the that other situation?”
Jaylah shook her head and sighed. “Nope. I’ve called, I’ve texted, I’m trying not to think about it.”
“So he just ran out after you mentioned moving?”
“Yeah, pretty much. He seemed really upset by it. Not furious or anything, but let down.”
“I feel his pain. I don’t want to give you up either. And sissy,” she patted Jaylah’s hand, “I’m no lesbian but women like you don’t come ‘round too often. He’s probably got it bad.”
“Then why hasn’t he called?”
“Because he’s a man. And men don’t talk when we want them to. Give him time, Jay. I’ll bet anything he’ll come ‘round.”
“Even vodka?” Jaylah asked jokingly.
“Hell no!” Jourdan chuckled, “I wouldn’t give that up for anyone.”
“Not even me?”
Jourdan threw up her hands. “Ok, yes, you. And maybe my mum. But that’s it.”
Jaylah prayed Jourdan was right about Johnny. She hoped he would snap out of his funk and realize she was worth the risk before it was too late and she was headed back to L.A. alone.
Seven
“What are you doing here?” she asked when she saw Johnny standing in front of her building. Jaylah wondered if she conjured him up after dishing to Jourdan about the last time they’d seen each other. Could he sense she was talking about him? Could he tell she was so unsure about their relationship that she was considering walking away and cutting her losses?
“Can we talk?”
“Now you want to talk? I’ve been calling you for the past two days,” she said, anger working its way to her throat.
“I know…I was…”
“Busy?” she cut him off. “Let me guess, work has been crazy?”
“No. I mean, yes it has. But I’ve been trying to wrap my head around all of this,” he stepped closer to her, “can we talk about this inside?”
Jaylah glared at him, trying to decide what to do. Her anger surprised her, but it also felt good. If he had shown up a day earlier she would have thrown herself at him and apologized for messing up their evening. But not now. She wasn’t going to roll over and accept anyone’s bullshit anymore, even if it was a man she ached to touch.
After several tense minutes she opened the glass door and held it open for him; she told herself she would at least hear what he had to say.
“So, what’s up,” she asked when they walked through the door of her flat.
“Listen, I’m sorry about the other night. I shouldn’t have run out of here like that, but I needed some space to think this through.”
“And you couldn’t have told me that when I called?”
“I know, I’m sorry,” he slumped on the couch, “I fucked up.”
Jaylah crossed her arms and glowered at him from across the room.
“My life is just so complicated right now. I never set out to meet anyone—
I wasn’t even looking,” he said. “But then I met you, and…everything changed.”
She crossed the room and sat on the arm of the sofa.
“I told myself I wasn’t even going to get involved, that’s why it took me so long to call in the first place. But after that day at on London Eye, I just—“ he reached out for her hand—“I couldn’t stop thinking about you, and believe me, I’ve tried, Jaylah.”
He pulled her closer to him. “I literally have to stop myself from calling you, and I’ve fantasized about making love to you since the moment we met,” he said.
“So, what happened the other night?” she asked, still searching for an answer.
“I fucked up and didn’t buy any protection. It’s been so long since I’ve used them I didn’t even consider it,” he shook his head.
“And running out of here? What was that about?”
“I…” he hesitated, “I was scared.”
“Scared? Of what?”
“Jaylah, I like you a lot—a whole lot—which completely caught me off guard. My entire life has been pretty regimented with not many detours, and you’re a huge, surprising, amazing deviation,” he said. “I’ve been living in the moment these past few weeks, but when you said you were leaving I felt smacked back to earth,” he looked up at her, “I didn’t know what to do. I don’t want to lose you—and the fact that I feel this way scares me.”
His words hit her in the heart.
I don’t want to lose you reverberated through her brain causing her anger to crack and splinter into pieces. Jaylah squeezed his hand and brought his face close to hers.
“I’m scared too. I’ve never felt like this before,” she said, kissing him, “But don’t ever do that again.”
Johnny drew an imaginary X over his heart. “Promise.”
“I have a surprise for you,” she said, running to the bedroom. When she returned she threw a small box in his lap.
He let out a raucous laugh. “Condoms?”
“Just in case,” she said, grinning.
“Just in case?” he asked, kissing her neck.
“Yup, just in case,” she said, finding his lips.
Johnny slid his hand up her blouse and began massaging her nipples. She gasped, then unbuttoned his shirt and unzipped his pants, as they consumed each other’s mouths. Clothes pealed away like plucked flower petals as they tumbled to the floor, Jaylah claiming her spot on top.
She ran her tongue from his navel to his nipples and breathed him in. Egyptian musk lingered on his skin and she could feel Johnny stiffened beneath her. She kissed the tip of his rod before taking it into her mouth and sucking it slowly.
“Oh….shit…” he moaned, grabbing a handful of hair while she slurped him up.
“You like that?” she asked, enjoying the way he felt between her lips.
“Yes baby…yes…” he groaned in pleasure.
Jaylah sucked faster, inhaling his dick like it was the most potent drug in the world. He thrashed underneath her, his stomach tightening as he crept closer to spilling his treasure. Before he could explode in her mouth she stopped and rolled a condom down the length of his cock.
“Fuck me, Johnny,” she commanded, urgency spreading through her veins.
He flipped her over and lingered above her. He sucked two fingers and sank them into her, rubbing her clit until she began to whine for more. He lowered his face between her silky thighs and tasted her.
“Mmmm,” he hummed, drinking her up and pushing Jaylah closer to pleasure’s edge.
“Johnny please,” she pleaded again, “Please…”
He spread her legs and glided into her, filling her up. He could taste the peppermint still lingering on her tongue as he moved inside her in slow, deliberate strokes that sent sparks through her body. He took his time, plunging deep into her belly to plant his seed.
She danced with him, her hips slapping against his body creating their own rhythm. He turned her over and she got on all fours, waiting for him to take her from behind. He dug in again, this time crashing into her with enough force to split her in two.
Her body was his playground and he punched every ticket. Her toes, ass, stomach, and head throbbed from Johnny’s touch, and she struggled to contain the tempest brewing within.
“I’m…cumming. Shit, I’m—“ an orgasm rumbled through her limbs, causing Jaylah’s entire body to vibrate.
Johnny dove deeper into her, sucking her neck as he rammed into her hips. He grunted with each thrust, calling her name over and over until he seemed to run out of words.
“Oh…Jaylah…Oh…” he growled, finally coll
apsing on top of her as milky liquid dripped down her thighs.
They lay on the floor, fingers intertwined, trying to catch their breath.
“You ok?” he asked, still on top of her.
“Better than ok,” she said. “You?”
“No,” he replied, “I think I’m falling in love.”
Eight
“What do you want to do today?” he asked, as they lay in bed. She leaned into him as she typed, working on her first column for Glamour. Jaylah couldn’t believe how perfect things had worked out. After a herky-jerky start, she and Johnny fell into the comfortable rhythm of a happy couple, spending nights and weekends together watching films, making love, and talking about the future.
He’d virtually lived at her flat the past week and she relished being able to make him breakfast and see him off in the mornings.
“Brick Lane,” she said, finally answering his question. “I haven’t been yet and I want to snap some pictures for my column. I need to make sure it’s perfect. I made a lot of promises to land it, now I have to deliver.”
He closed her laptop. “No working today, innit? You’re leaving in three weeks.”
“But I’m coming back.”
“Minor detail. I still won’t be able to see you,” he parted her lips with his tongue. “Let’s just have fun today. Maybe a little shopping on me?”
“For earrings?” she asked, excited to add a few pairs to her eclectic collection.
“For whatever you want,” Johnny said, tasting her mouth again.
“Yay! Let’s get dressed.”
* * *
Brick Lane was an explosion of color. Gigantic murals, and an array of clothes, shoes, and painted canvases spilled out from every corner. The smell of lamb gyros clashed with pungent curries and roasting meat, and musicians crowded onto the sidewalks to belt out classic tunes and get discovered. It was hard to focus; all of Jaylah’s senses were bombarded at once, causing her to turn at a moment’s notice, distracted by a streak of green hair or a 20-foot high painting of an elephant with tentacles.
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