The Swag Report » Prose

Re-Introducing Rebel & Rene

Knowledge — Sat, 11 Jun 2011 18:00:16 +0000

I’m not easily impressed, but I was impressed from the start with her ability to captivate an audience with a unique writing style full of prose, poise, and excellent story telling. Her pen carried with it a certain grace that was evident to me, and many others by the looks of her comment section, from the start. While I tend to be long-winded in my writing, she would seemingly get straight to the point, not concerned with beating around the bush unless there was a bush that needed beating. One thing that stood out was how I would never get bored of her posts no matter how many of them I’d read.

Reading about the events that happen in ones personal life can become a compulsion, as bloggers who write about their personal lives know all too well. I try to shield my readers from my life as much as possible, but I do thoroughly enjoy being the documentarian and historian of my own slice of life where no one can mitigate or elaborate on my experiences as well as I.

I found within A Brown Girl Gone Gay writing that exhibited that same determined drive. She told her stories and experiences in a way that others could relate to over and over again, and that is the primary key to being a successful writer and blogger. On top of being balanced, poignant, passionate, and extremely artistic, of course.

Fast forward: One year ago.

I was approached by Alix, the writer and blogger from A Brown Girl, about a short story series she wanted to collaborate on for her online literary magazine i-bleed-ink.com. The series would be a romantic drama of sorts centered around two distinctly different characters telling the same story, but in their own words.

I was flattered by the offer, having never written any serious fiction before. I was ready to take up the challenge, and so I accepted. It was then that we began writing the beginnings of the series we now know as Rebel & Rene. It is a monthly feature on the site and it’s one of many short story series currently featured.

I’m proud of the story we’ve breathed life into. I’m happy to add that after a few months of hiatus we are ready to begin where Rebel and Rene left off last year. The series will start exactly where it stopped and you can look for it on I Bleed Ink every 2nd Saturday of the month.

Writing this story has helped me redefine a word that has been a part of my vocabulary ever since I realized I was the shortest person in my family. I’m referring to the short in short story. Although writing short stories was not my forte, she wanted to work with me anyway. And while hesitant as hell, I challenged myself to step outside of the comfort zone shop I set up long ago and embrace something new. Short story writing cannot be accomplished without focus, dedication and attention to detail. The length of my first draft is laughable when I look back now, but Alix did no such thing upon reading it, I’d like to believe.

And so the story of Rebel and Rene began, and now continues as their journey takes them places they never expected.

To give you an idea of how the story is told, here’s a taste.

Please do enjoy.

Rebel:

Taking a deep breath, I rushed out of the powder room bumping into a customer in my haste. A tall customer with hazel eyes and locs. Any other day, I would have flashed her my dimpled smile, but I wasn’t my normal flirtatious self. She placed her hands on my hips to steady me as I felt myself ankles wobble courtesy of my ridiculous 6 inch stilettos. Her hands were warm at my waist and even in my grouchy mood, I couldn’t help but notice how the finger tips of her hands almost met. Gotta love a girl with big hands.

“Oh, excuse me!” I said, as I tried to talk myself out of blushing. My cheeks weren’t listening.

“Excuse me, too, beautiful.” She spoke and I found myself looking into thickly lashed hazel eyes. I put an extra swing in my hips as I glided away from her, causing my dress to flow around me. I looked behind me, catching her smirking at my swaying my ass. I rolled my eyes. Pervert, I thought with a smile.

Rene:

As I entered [the bathroom], a short, petite, pale-skinned sales girl was exiting. We bumped into each other hard as I reflexively reached down to steady the camera hanging from my neck. I thought she was going to stumble so I grabbed her around her waist and pulled her toward me to steady her gait.

I felt my face get all hot and my head rushed a little while I considered, for a moment, how good my hands felt around her tiny waist, before quickly retracting them.

”Oh, excuse me!” she exclaimed, in a southern drawl that I just knew had to be exaggerated ‘cause whoa. I hadn’t heard an accent that heavy, deep, and sexy since I first watched True Blood.

I said, “Excuse me, too, beautiful,” as she slipped past me and headed toward the front of the boutique. I watched her hips and ass sway as she walked away. She turned and saw me staring before I caught her roll her eyes as she turned around and continued on.

Make sure you catch Rebel & Rene every 2nd Saturday & Sunday of the month on I Bleed Ink beginning June 10th!

Whatever Feels Right

Knowledge — Sat, 04 Jun 2011 18:00:32 +0000

I’ve written thousands of words dedicated to memories of you. How you swept through me like a tornado, left stormy thoughts encased in halos. Already knowing what the ending would be, but craving its heyday. For out of the chaos would come something beautiful. A warm sun, mid-day. The only one I could always count on before you was me anyway. They say I love too much, but I can’t help but reach for that peak even when I’m troubled by it being so far out of reach. I can’t help but want you to reach your peak in everything you set your mind to, especially as it relates to me. Luckily, I’ve always got a little time to set aside for academia, so to speak. So if being taught by hand means you’ll use my body as a blackboard, let’s chalk it up. With your permission, I’m asking to use your mental as my canvas. Let your knowledge pour down all over me as thoughts pay it forward like advances. Free flowing from distractions, writing blocked by self-possessing, carpal tunnel syndrome’s like – hand cramps and neck aches as words form like soft clay. We swapped intelligence in snide, remarks made in hind-sight made me feel like – I can drop a dope acapella, but you still ain’t seeing me, right? I felt like I was laying on a hot bed of deep despair, like I died a little death, but my spiritual reflection stayed clear. The illest beat I could ever conjure was from a broken kiss, a final lick, a switch of the hips, damn – my girl’s the shit, type of ganja. I mean, type of muse, that is. For lack of better words or emotion-full phrases; with her I want to sync lips, and dig my teeth in, and trace letters to and fro, from the nape of necks to below mid-sections. We go back and forth, and different strokes you ain’t protesting, just as long as I dive deep enough to get lost all up in it. The way I think, it’s like venom, but my passionate potion gives life. To anyone whose ever drank from it, they know my passion is rife. Or ripe – whatever letters accurately project my rhyme scheme’s whatever – I’m wrapped tight. Like a fist, gripping. Like feelings, growing. Natural disasters may crop up along the way, but are promptly alleviated, left in subtle disarray. Still my hunger builds and I strive, but vertical isn’t the only way to grow, or to thrive. No side-eyed, side-ways glances that sting, barely touching with ill intent – but bringing out the best in me. The purpose is to upend, uplift, and eventually – reinvent my spirit which is spent from not enough vent. Elation, ’cause I’ve never been afraid to fall in love, just out of. Not even the pain and what can arise from love other than what’s pleasurable can be unbearable. Like a butterfly unable to break free of its cocoon – despair ensues. So, I reach for higher heights, and slide fingers across places previously deemed as risky flights. I siphon sights and process data, then cypher fights with lyrical gangsta. I bare my all for you, and in return, you shed every thread and fabric intended to avoid your flesh reacting to another’s powerful – grip. You bare it all too. But I hold onto every love I’ve ever adorned, every trophy I’ve ever worn, from love to sports to sporting love. I hold out my hands to the one above and beg forgiveness for not giving my all. I am forgiven, for this one reason, I managed to pen you a poem, written in a journal, riddled with apologies that I could foresee a long time ago. I wrote you into existence, and now that you’re here, would you mind being more than just a spoken word or poetic blurb – ’cause when you’re gone I won’t shed a tear. I’m demanding far more. Although the other figments of my imagination have been cropped and edited they’re long gone, and I’ve anticipated my departure for months now – from writers block.

Who I Am

Knowledge — Fri, 18 Feb 2011 20:47:43 +0000

I am a hoarder; of secrets, thoughts, wants and desires. Of good books and journals. The way a beautiful woman’s smile – lightens a mood, a home, sparking memories that I’ll never forget. Long gone are meaningless sentiments that have often been disregarded. I’ve done nothing in my power to forget the past tense, ’cause of all the love that flows from me; my past accounts for all of it.

I am prone to addiction, self-depreciation, and criticism. Whether it is a battle against restlessness or thoughts that lead to actions I might later regret. Even a book – I can’t stop reading until the part where the story ends. Good lyrics and good women. Hell, even analyzing failed relationships. I am addicted to love, sans the rejection it sometimes brings. I no longer question it though, because that’s just who I am.

My love for my family, who mean the world to me, is unconditional. My good friends won’t let me forget when I am being a selfish ass, and sometimes my intentions come across as mean spirited. But to know me is to understand that I am a highly passionate being and -peace & love is my thing, and that’s what I’m gonna to leave it at.

I’m a nerd and a jock. As funny as a broken leg without a crutch. I read a lot; ask anyone, they’ll say “yep, she does”. I pour through pages of books; wish I could read every last one. Even if the book cover appears to be as boring as Native Son’s. I like to know things, that’s why I’m also known as Knowledge. Not to be nosy or corny, I look to the heart of the matter with logic. But I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that I am a constant work in progress.

In love, I am a challenge. Taking you from one extreme to the other. But, I’ll let you have the last when we run out of words for one another. Feelings of all sort live very strong in me. I’ll put it bluntly to get you to notice whatever it is you’re not noticing.

I give second chances because I know how it feels to be branded. And if my freedom is restricted, I’ll go the distance to expand it. I’ll make a play at brightening your day by spreading a smile across my face. You can expect that I will sometimes assume shit based on good intent, and there will be times when my good intentions will land me on someone else’s shit list.

Sometimes I wish I wasn’t as flawed as I am. And a little less distant when it comes to family and friends. I might appear quiet, but I’m always running off at the head. Relentless in that aspect. Won’t stop ’til I’m kicking the bucket. My ego may need a knock down every once in a while. But only the times when I’m kinda sorta feeling myself.

I am strong enough to handle any consequences my actions bring. When I get angry, I’m quick to forgive, but like most, don’t forget a thing. I think of myself as balanced; as much masculine as I am feminine. When in hot pursuit of anything, I am thoroughly focused. When you cross my mind, I take mental notes in hopes that you’ll notice.

In the past, I’ve been unfaithful, but I won’t allow you to think any less of me. It ain’t up for debating, unless we’re extrapolating historical prophecy. You see, in my pursuit of truth, I remain consciously astute. I’ve got no problem questioning things, just like my parents taught me to.

There are times when I am neglectful, but it is never done on purpose. And at times I can be forgetful, so I put myself on notice. I hope they know it – and understand that I might not show it – but the demands placed at my hands can often overwhelm me to the point of feeling hopeless.

But Hope Lives.

And I may not always speak up, but my heart holds within it – a certain sentiment. Since every day is give and take, I’m easily inspired by new inspiration.

No matter what anyone says… just know that I am who I say I am.

Introducing Rebel & Rene

Unforgettable

Knowledge — Thu, 16 Sep 2010 16:30:23 +0000

Under normal circumstances, I would have refused her offer, but these were unusual circumstances and I was in no mood to refuse anything. Not from her. She did not know it yet, but I was never one for carrying on casual relationships. Not in any sense of the word. That is completely outside of my comfort zone. Although my reputation was not solidly etched, my feet weren’t touching the ground, and my head, along with my heart were somewhere deep in the clouds. An intelligent player I often called myself, as if that mattered or added some bit of credence to the fact that I already had a girl, and was only playing myself. Casual anything was never my style. No one-night stands, or random lap dancing, no wrapping my tongue around someone else’s woman. No, none of that. To indulge secretly meant giving a teeny tiny piece of me to someone else. And the combination of her words, slick as hell, and her timing, which she obviously could tell, were impeccable. The invisible little women hovering above each of my shoulders made me think that maybe I could play a different role for a change. Maybe I would even like the way she’d call my name.

The truth is, I thought I could do it because the woman at the helm did inspire in me something I’d never felt. With others, I could find a safe retreat from whatever plagued me. That meant I did not have to think, I could just forget about everything. Rinse, and repeat. But loving easy never meant that my own desperate need for reciprocity was being met. She didn’t look at me in any way in particular, no judging that I was aware of or pointing out flaws with indexed fingers. She was seeing me through the discrepancies. She inspired in me something, particularly the fulfilling of one need. A right of passage, so to speak. There were no lines that she was given, no careful planning to avoid sinning. I kept the fairytales at bay, so I could tell a story someday.

At the time, there was no story there. No words or sounds, no worrying. She was simply an interruption, a blip on a vast horizon of thoughts I had. Kind of like coming upon a vestibule and finding absolutely no place to hide in. She was safe or so I thought, not knowing kindness could be mistaken for love. She was just one of the many options that I pretended to like choosing from.
But nothing with me is casual, not even my silence is accidental. She accepted all of it, but still wanted me to be her protagonist. My response was reactionary, and her face, I could have framed. For it resembled my ego, and was as fragile as it came.

It would have been too easy. Too safe. It would not matter how much I loved or how much she longed, it would have hurt in the long run. I did not jump without any consideration. Although I had my spot already picked out, and the air felt paper-thin. I was as tight fisted as a heart, resisting the urge to fall deeper in.

I did not… no, I refused to rip her pages out that easily. I valued the entire book, but my outlook did not present this as an ideal situation. Still, I did not refuse, I could not refuse, and there was something about her that made me choose.

When I accepted, we played the game. Our roles had no rules. The manuscript was as loose as an unbound page. I choose to role-play, and to create plots in stories. The reason I did not refuse her is because I am not the causal type. Every thing I do I insist on throwing myself into. Most people, mind you, cannot handle that. They claim otherwise, but perception is just as blind as it was at birth. With their 20/400 vision having asses, filling unnecessary space with dispassionate worth. Focused on watching faces instead of reading minds. Trying to learn the game, but lacking any spine. Hard for no reason, oh wait, they claim it’s to get by.

But that is not why I did not refuse her. For a long time I believed that the one who became my soul mate would eventually leave. I almost stopped believing in love. It was a lesson I learned after losing my first. She made me feel more alive than I ever imagined, and when she was done toying with me it hurt. It left a hole in my soul that never dispersed. She lived a life of regrets and I wallowed in her world. We believed that we could save each other from peril.

The reason I did not refuse her is because she taught me. She taught me how to love without fearing its loss. She taught me to love myself, and asked for absolutely nothing in return.

Things Fall Together

Knowledge — Sat, 21 Aug 2010 16:34:19 +0000

Nick Keppol

I admit our misunderstanding was striking. In one fell swoop I went from aroused to feeling your feisty. I was chillin’ on the couch… laying half-naked, I’ll have you know. So when you asked, “what are you doing,” I could barely open my mouth. When stiffled chuckles spouted out. I sat there thinking, for a moment or two before answering. I worried that my current predicament would be tempted with sultry words coming fromlips. But somewhere along the way I took a wrong turn. We were back at Jump Street. It was so absurd. I said the wrong thing and your head was spinning. Then I lost you by wrongly assuming. Thinking you had been paying close attention to me. I thought I could feel you reminiscing, but no. You couldn’t see how the things we dreamed before we wound up in that space, well; those things were for us. For you and me, bae. No foreign bodies could relate anyway. I told you; if only you could see me then you’d be laughing too. I was two levels of exposed. And like some magical fairy or tale you were there in my ear.

*silent yell*

Couldn’t you tell? I talked tough to cover up my exposed outer shell. I was all the way uncovered but hell I wound up on your dark side anyway. Although my thoughtless inaction landed me right… smack… dab… in the midst of wanting you with such a fiery passion. And regarding our energy. Dark or light, just consider this. Why would my uncomfortable circumstance discourage me from showing you how strongly I was attracted? It wouldn’t, yet you no longer believed in our dreams. And that only made one of us, fortunately. I am the consummate lover in the truest sense of the verb. My emotions go hard. I don’t take any prisoners. I don’t need any hating on my attempts at mating either, but that’s beside the point of these unspoken words. No other can try to explain my situation as if their minds are situated in my personal space.

[Post Haste] … [No Wait]

I clawed at the seams trying to scratch my way out of the uncertainty surrounding our conversation. When finally, you stopped following me, and I knew you couldn’t feel my mind power any longer.

[Insert Ego Chip]

‘Cause I was naked and exposed, but I’m no coward, you know. I’m gonna say what’s on my mind because I still can feel your soul. My only wish for you is to continue being as strong as you are beautiful. Meanwhile I’ll just sit back and watch Mercury to do it’s thing as its retrograde leaves me changed.

Introducing Rebel & Rene

Knowledge — Thu, 22 Jul 2010 16:47:52 +0000

After a conversation with an ex about where our relationship went wrong, I realized that we had to be in two different relationships. How could her version be so different from mine? Well, when they say there are two sides to every story, people are telling you the truth.

I have partnered with the wonderful Alix B Golden of A Brown Girl to bring you two sides of the same love story. Even from the beginning there were sparks between Rebel & Rene…

Rebel:

“Oh, excuse me!” I said, as I tried to talk myself out of blushing. My cheeks weren’t listening.

Rene:

I felt my face get all hot and my head rushed a little while I considered, for a moment, how good my hands felt around her tiny waist, before quickly retracting them.

”Oh, excuse me!” she exclaimed, in a southern drawl that I just knew had to be exaggerated ‘cause whoa. I hadn’t heard an accent that heavy, deep, and sexy since I first watched True Blood.

Make sure you catch Rebel & Rene every Tuesday and Thursday on I Bleed Ink Magazine beginning July 27th!

The Other Morning On The Train

Knowledge — Sat, 02 Jan 2010 01:44:12 +0000

I stepped into an empty train car. Well, it wasn’t completely empty for there were two weary passengers with their heads slunk down, deep in sleep in their respective seats. ”Not bad” was my first thought. I get to ride to work, unassuming, and not be bothered by others and their funny smelling breath and easy restlessness. That is, until the smell hit. So I looked harder. And it got stronger, and it stung. My eyes pierced through, glaring at the passengers because that smell warranted a second look, at every damn body. All two of them motherfuckers. My nose doesn’t miss a thing. By then my nose and eyes were burning from the putrid smell of urine permeating the entire train car. I performed a full sweep of the train car, not necessarily wanting to move onto the next one because I really dislike walking between two cars when the train is moving, and I didn’t feel like bolting from the car I was in into the next one at the next stop. My own bit of train etiquette; not wanting to knock anyone over stopped me from doing just that at the next stop. But, UGH, the smell! Not even nauseating, more like burning acrid flesh, and just plain foul. The only pleasant thing about urine is when it’s streaming out of you, you know? But, yeah, I did what I didn’t feel like doing initially. I moved over to the next car, through the mid section of the train, opening the emergency exit doors, which is what this was to me. A damn emergency. I had no choice but to breathe and every breath was pissing me off, no pun intended. No wait, pun intended! Ha. I finally got away from the smell, which was still haunting me somehow because I can smell traces of it. Urine. The scent that never ends. It just goes on and on my friend. And so I preceded to move as far away from the previous El train as I could configure my body, and finally plopped down into a seat away from people. There was a man sitting opposite me, but on the other side, so I didn’t have to concern myself with any familiar, yet odd smells. I pulled out my Ipod and connected the earphones. Yeah, baby. I was ready to sit back, relax, and chill on my ride to work. I was getting content. The music set the mood and Jill Scott was setting in. Perfection ensued… for a little while at least. Until all of the sudden I see in front of me, a mass of brown leather slowly sliding down into the seat, becoming comfortable. A black cat, more like a blast from the past, Shaft’s brother from another mother or some shit like that. He sat down right in front of me. One of those soul brothers who thinks they’re fresh to death, with the old school gear, and the Kangol hats. He was like that.

That’s when the aroma hit. A new one, and I couldn’t even chuckle or laugh or do anything to feign my newfound discontent. My mind said “FUCK NO!!!” I was being slowly strangled by the overwhelming smell of cheap men’s cologne. What a messed up trade off. I sighed, then wondered what was in store for me on the ride home.

It’s Not Always Easy Like Sunday Morning

The Dress

Knowledge — Sat, 12 Sep 2009 11:12:01 +0000

Last night proved once again that two attractive friends and former lovers can go out and have a night on the town and things remain platonic. We met at the bar & grill around 9:17p.m. We were both late, as usual, but it was cool because with you I don’t feel that constant pressure to always be on time. I can be myself and I sincerely hope you know how much that means to me. Sometimes it sucks, feeling so much for other people, being perceptive and picking up on emotional wants and needs and catering to them. Yet, getting nothing in return. It’s a blessing and a fucking curse, but I try with everything in me to use it to my advantage. Sometimes, so do you, but you get me and that’s all that matters.

I finally found a parking space and walked half a block to what has become our regular spot. I like it because this place holds so many memories for us. As it goes, some bad and some good, but with you, always good. I came in through the side door and looked around for you. No dice, so I made my way up to the front. I still didn’t see you so I sent a text message asking where you were. You said you were on your way inside and the next thing I know you came walking through the door. God damn girl, what’s the deal, I was thinking. You just had to wear that dress, didn’t you. I heard myself groan from deep within and then I sighed out loud, while keeping my smile at neutral. You knew the sight of you in a dress used to be my weakness. It’s why you usually wore jeans and heels and I unnecessarily demanded that you continue doing so whenever we’d hang out. The last time we were together you were wearing them and the time before that and. Just damn. You were smokin’, pretty and dainty and old school sexy. Plus you were wearing your favorite color and my second favorite. We always made such a good looking couple even though we knew our roles and played by the rules. At least up until that night when the dress changed everything.

image by rosário pinheiro

She Cancelled On Me

Knowledge — Fri, 12 Jun 2009 03:40:19 +0000

I had a fleeting suspicion that she punked out. Then again, it wasn’t exactly well planned so maybe something really did come up. The night before, we hung out at The Exodus and played pool for hours. I beat her four games to one. The one, I let her win. She brushed off my taunts when I declared myself champ of our mini tournament, but not before she had fun teasing and distracting me every time I lined up to shoot my ball into a corner pocket. I didn’t even know moves like that were allowed on or against the pool table. Her teasing was semi-torture and since I was in my competitive mode, I was also feeling aggressive and I fantasized lifting her ass on to the table and spreading her legs wide, squeezing in between and doing many naughty things, but I thought the better of it and quite frankly had no choice in the matter.

We were in a mostly empty pool hall and there were barely any patrons left, let alone anyone showing us any mind, but I digressed for a while and controlled myself for the moment. As the night winded down I bought us both another beer and we chugged them at the bar while sharing dirty jokes and dirty thoughts. We parked in opposite directions so I walked her to her car. When we got there I did my best to look smooth and leaned against the side of her car, folding my arms together then looking at her all hard. There was only one minor problem. I was smiling and grinning all goofy because I wasn’t hard at all so I unfolded my arms and playfully smirked at her. She was standing by the curb right next to the parking meter, looking delicious in designer jeans, a tight graphic tee and sexy flats. We noticed a big group of women walking up the sidewalk and as they got closer I leaned forward and wrapped my arms around her waist pulling her into me while letting myself lean back against the car. We were much closer than we were a few minutes prior and I liked that. I convinced myself that it was mainly because the sidewalk was so narrow and the group of girls walking our way would likely take up most of it. But on the flip side, I’d been wanting to do that all night so I took advantage of an opportune time. She gave a little start but didn’t resist at all. I could see she was smiling back at me with pursed lips, almost smirking at my aggressiveness. I felt her hands rest comfortably on either side of my arms and as the girls passed on the sidewalk she leaned in and kissed me on the cheek. I could hear one of them comment that she missed her baby and then they disappeared out of sight and the sidewalk was all ours again. Although she wasn’t my baby, I sure wouldn’t mind treating her like she was. We were real cool and close but she was hard to read on the whole so I took her lack of resisting as encouraging.

She wasn’t exactly a girly girl, but she was far more feminine than I, and the external qualities she exhibited left me with no complaints whatsoever. I never failed to notice that she had a secret side, sensual and dark and I wanted her to unleash it on me, and I too had a side that I was holding back but it wasn’t the right time to unleash that beast. Nonetheless, I enjoyed my current predicament and slid my hands further down her back until I reached the dip, where waist and lower back meets ass and I let my fingers do the talking for a while. I lingered a bit long, but that was the plan, to do whatever comes, take whatever chance. Words were few and far between and eventually I glanced up and down the sidewalk, looking around to see if we were being watched. She looked up just as abruptly but I had already determined the coast was clear so I pulled her closer and inhaled deeply. God, I loved the scent of her. The aroma reminded me of strawberry vanilla fields and a sensual mix of female pheromones filling my lungs. She sighed as if waiting for something to happen. I knew what, but didn’t indulge. I stood up straight and reluctantly relaxed my hold on her waist and she asked if I was trying to get rid of her already. “Of course not,” I said as I took her hand. I led us away from the street to the back side of the 3 story brown brick building. I was glad she wasn’t wearing stilettos that night. I didn’t exactly tower over her, but she had a small frame to go with her small round ass and my tightly curled ‘fro gave me at least two and a half inches over her so I relaxed. Speaking of ass, I remember when I first met her black guy friend whose name escapes me for various reasons. One afternoon we were chillin’ with him and some of her other friends downtown and while they walked in front he and I followed behind. Literally. He remarked to me “she has a black girl ass doesn’t she?” My head swiveled fast and I looked at him like he was crazy. “For real? Have you never seen a black girl’s ass?” He laughed and I knew then that he was jonesing her, and had no idea the measure of a woman’s ass, black or white. Idiot. How could he be so clueless about that shit, but I didn’t sweat it and nope I didn’t answer him. I laughed, shaking my head as we kept walking and we both watched her from behind.

Going back to that night, I looked at her and grinned, asking if she wanted to finish what we’d started. She responded in kind, smiling, seductively as she put her arms around me and said “well let’s see.” Naw, fuck that, that’s when I turned her around so her back was against my front and her front was against the wall. I could feel my palms on her stomach and then her waist and lower still while she held the wall in place. “You are so beautiful, woman,” I whispered in her ear and planted a kiss on soft skin where my lips just whispered. “Your hands feel so good on me,” she leaned back and whispered as her hands slowly pushed up the fabric of her shirt revealing smooth skin and I could feel the heat against it. I wasted no time, but I also took my time. I wanted to touch all of her, but I couldn’t forget where I was and where we both were and a weak sounding whimper escaped from me as I pushed my crotch firm against her. She groaned and pushed back against me until she remembered where we were. That’s when she feigned shy and palmed the back of my hands, sliding them down her stomach then resting on her pants. She turned to face me and let her shirt fall down naturally. She said I had a sexy grin on my face and the sensation I felt when she looked at me made me squirm. I knew I had the sex look so I tried to mentally shake it off, but that just got me wondering just how wet she really was. She had the look too you know. We’d only made out a couple of times before this, but I wanted her to remember my mouth fucking hers with my tongue and her moans and the heat that we shared when we touched. Her whimpers were hot, sweet music to my ears. I wanted to give her a taste of what was to come, but I decided against acting on that thought for a good reason.

I scrunched up my nose and was unprepared for when she kissed the very tip of it. I looked at her intently for a moment and asked what she had planned for the rest of the week. She said not much and then she was staring at my lips but in my mind I’m thinking how cliché is this. So I mouthed the words “I want you so fucking bad.” She looked into my eyes and said she could tell. Then all I could think of was sucking and massaging all over her at the same time and how I would burst if I didn’t get to do something soon. I exhaled softly and time lost all meaning as she came closer. She moaned when my tongue touched her lips and then again when I sucked her bottom lip. She opened her mouth pulling me inside and a second later we were kissing passionately. Her fingers hooked onto the front of my skinny baggy jeans and then right above my boxer briefs where her fingers slid down in underneath and traced horizontal figures side to side against bare skin. She fiddled with my button fly and I half-heartedly slapped her hand. I breathed hard and pushed my tongue deeper into her and we began a tongue duel that she was certain to lose. My hands found her breasts and I roamed and squeezed gently while brushing lightly against her rock hard nipples. Just as quickly I released my tugging and the only thing connecting us were lips and fingers under boxers briefs. It wasn’t long before I reached behind and cupped her ass through her jeans and loved every bit of it before giving her one last hard kiss.

Before the night ended I told her I was looking forward to spending some more time the following night. Actually, I wanted to check out a comedy club I’d never been to before and we didn’t even set a time so everything was sort of up in the air. Regardless, I had a plan in store and a backup, always, just in case cause you never know. Thursday rolled around and I waited until around 3:00 in the afternoon to text a reminder about later that evening. She texted me back, asked how I was, etc. I replied, but it was sort of rhetorical so I thought nothing of her not texting me back. She said she was going to take a nap and I concurred saying she’d need the rest later. I played a few Xbox games for a while. I didn’t hear from her again until 7 p.m. at which time we talked for about five minutes before she had to abruptly end the call and answer her other line. She called me back 15 minutes later and I wasn’t able to answer my cell, but she left a voice message saying she had to cancel. ”Something came up.” Said she had to shower and leave the house right away and she was sorry for having to cancel, yeah yeah yeah. A shower, I thought, yeah okay, yeah right. I called my backup while racking my brain trying to figure out the real reason she cancelled so late. It was an impossible feat and she didn’t give me a specific reason anyway and if it was bullshit I didn’t want to think about it any more than it deserved. I just hoped everything was alright and sent a short text message with that in mind. If it came to an end so be it, I lamented, even though I promised not to dwell on the shit. I had a date cancel on me only once, although I cancelled my fair share so karma was having fun. Two days later I received a text from her that said, “you’re an excellent kisser, can we do it again?”

image by salvatore brancifort

Straight Married Life by John Drew

Knowledge — Wed, 06 May 2009 16:47:24 +0000

You can’t make stuff like this up. After leaving the house to go home, we were driving our second car because the other was in need of repair. By the time we got there, I received a phone call from my sister in-law.

“Could you please look for my keys, I may have left them at your house” she said. My wife talked to her sister while I looked around for the keys, but I came up empty handed. My wife asked her sister “where else should we look?”

She said that the last place she remembered having them was at the post office. Why am I looking here when she last had them at the post office I wondered. My wife told me to settle down, run down to the post office, and see if anyone turned in some keys. So off I went.

I knew the woman behind the counter and asked her if any one had turned in any keys? “Yes”, she said and showed me a set of keys. “Are these it” she asked and I had no idea so I told her to let me call my sister in-law to find out. “Phyllis, can you identify your keys”, I asked. ”Yes”, she replied. “There is the key to the car, a thingy to lock and unlock the car, a key to the post office box and a small key”. I replied back that there was no small key just a Chrysler key, door thingy and key to a PO Box. “Well I don’t know, can you try the PO Box key” she asked. I asked the woman if we could try the PO Box, and by then she was completely bewildered yet agreed to let me try to open the box. I tried the key, turned it and the door opened. There inside the box was the set of keys my sister in-law was missing.

I got back on my cell phone and said ”Phyllis I found your keys inside the PO Box, but who’s keys did I have when I opened the box?”

“Oh, those were my husbands; he lost them a couple of weeks ago.”

I went home and opened a bottle of wine.

-John Drew

How’s Life Cheating You