A Love of My Own (11 page)

15
__________________

Mondays are usually boring, but now I live for them because they mean Jabar and the sheets. He is always on time. Eight o'clock straight up. I had left the office a little early and come home to take a leisurely bath in warm, scented water. Afterward, I put on some light makeup and pulled my hair up and back. I was wearing a pale sandy-pink panties and bra set that Davis had bought me from La Perla. Davis liked seeing me in the set; Jabar loved taking them off slowly with his teeth and large hands.

I lit the candles in my bedroom and brought a silver tray with fresh orange juice for Jabar and a glass of Chardonnay for me. I didn't know why, but I was feeling a little wicked that evening. I'm not into whips and chains, but I wouldn't mind a little tap on the ass, a little controlled forcefulness by Jabar. I'd tease him, resist him at the right moment, and refuse to give him what he wanted. That, I hoped, would be his cue to take charge. While Jabar was no rocket scientist, he usually picked up on my clues as to how I'd like the evening to go. When I wanted him gentle and tender, I invited him into the bath with me. Jabar knows how to lather a sista up and down and then pat me dry gently, taking his time at just the right spots.

In many ways Jabar is like Play-Doh to me. I can mold him any way I want to fit my desires for the evening. With Jabar there are no pretenses, no token declarations of love, and very little romance. That's why I have to be totally in charge of foreplay. Once I jokingly ragged him about his youthful “slam-bam” technique of lovemaking. I told him I wished he'd engage in a little more foreplay before the straight-up in and out. Maybe, I suggested, he could treat me like one of his workouts: a little stretching, some warm-up exercises before, and then on to the heavy stuff. He looked at me like I'd just asked him to recite the Declaration of Independence. So I showed him what I wanted. Great thing Jabar was good at following demonstrations.

The doorbell rang and I could feel my body getting warm with excitement. I sprayed a little fragrance between the twins for good measure and walked slowly to the door. I was ready for my slumber party for two.

I opened the door and I felt blinded by Jabar's dazzling white teeth when he smiled upon seeing me. He had on a tight-fitting white T-shirt and a warm-up suit that wasn't black but the darkest possible navy blue, with “Phat Farm” in crimson. I looked him up and down and I was a happy girl. I couldn't wait for Jabar to be naked and magnificent in my bedroom. I'd spent the last couple of weeks mulling over photos for
Bling Bling
's
Sexiest Brothaman Alive contest, but I knew I had him right here in my home. If I were the sole judge, the search would be over.

“'Sup, Z. You ready for a brotha?” Jabar asked as he walked past me without a kiss, carrying a black leather gym bag.

“Jabar, how are you?”

“I'm fine, boo. What up?” Jabar asked without looking in my direction. He unzipped his bag and started rummaging through it. A few moments later he pulled out his portable CD player.

“Jabar!” I shouted. He turned around quickly.

“What up, Z?”

“Come here,” I said.

Jabar dropped the CD player back into the bag and walked toward me with a quizzical look on his face, and when he was standing a few inches from me, he asked, “What I do?”

“Baby, let's start over,” I said as I took his hand and moved him toward the door.

“Hey, Z, you not fixing to put a brotha out. What's up with that?”

“No, I'm not putting you out. We're just starting over.”

“Starting what over?”

“Repeat after me. Damn Zola, you look fly or hot; use whatever word your boys are using. Tell me how my panties and bra make you feel,” I said.

Jabar looked at me and licked his full lips and gently took my hand and kissed it.

“Damn, yo, them panties makes me want to do some things. Yo, that's what's up. How you feel 'bout that, boo?”

“Now kiss me,” I said.

“Where?”

“Anywhere you want,” I said.

Jabar kissed my forehead, then my cheeks, neck, and lips as he squeezed my nipples gently. I felt like my legs were going to give out on me.

“How does that feel?”

“Wonderful,” I moaned.

“Thought so,” Jabar said.

“Follow me,” I said as I grabbed Jabar's hand and headed toward the bedroom. I was literally pulling him like he was a toy with wheels. Once I reached the bedroom, I turned back the bedspread, hit the CD player button, and took a sip of my wine. When I turned around, Jabar was naked, and not only could I smell his excitement, I could see it.

“Yo, sweetness. 'Sup?” Jabar's voice had almost a childish triumph, like it was the first time he realized how large his manhood could grow.

“Jabar! You look great. I've been waiting and thinking about you all day.”

“Waiting?” he says, a little startled. “Am I late?”

“My body says yes but the clock says you're right on time—as usual. I was just anxious to see you, feel you.”

“Yo, Z, you know I ain't even trying to be late, not to see you.” He came close to me and placed his hands on my behind, pulling me close to him. I smelled citrus and masculinity, a potent aphrodisiac. He leaned down and kissed me lightly, barely brushing my mouth. He pulled me firmly, gently, to his chest and massaged my lower back. I could feel his erection against my abs. He slid one hand between us, under my bra, and fondled my breasts. His hands were huge, like the size of a clothes iron. I felt like I was on fire. I had never known a man whose mere presence made me feel like I could make love 24/7.

I placed my hands on his heavily muscled shoulders. Jabar's body is layered with muscles like hot butterscotch on French vanilla ice cream. Pure perfection, I thought. I looked at him with a half-smile playing on my lips.

“Z, what?”

Jabar didn't get it yet. He pulled me back to him. “Yo, boo,” he said, “let me taste you and give you what you want.” He put both hands on my breasts, kissing one nipple and then the other.

I pushed him away again. I took both his hands and put them at his sides. When Jabar reached for me again, I put his hands firmly back at his sides and held them there. This time, he left them there and smiled, his beautiful bald head cocked to one side, one brow lifted in question.

I touched his hairless hard chest and erect nipples. He turned his head as I walked behind him and rubbed his shoulders. I loved being naked with him. Jabar turned around with a raging erection. He doesn't feel like Play-Doh, but like granite. I decide to stop the game short and let Jabar take over, but not just yet.

“Z . . . damn yo. This is torture. What do you want me to do?”

“Just stand there,” I commanded. I circled him, running my hand across his erection, across this taut, round butt and back around, and said, “Do what any
real
man would do with all this.” I bent over and stepped out of my panties.

I saw the light come on in his deceptively sleepy amber-brown eyes. He grasped my wrists and pulled me within an inch of his handsome face. He stared deep into my eyes, then suddenly pressed his mouth hard onto mine, nipping my lower lip before pushing his tongue between my lips. He slapped me on the behind and then scooped me up into his arms like I weighed less than a feather. I could hear Usher begging for love on the CD player, and I laughed to myself thinking Usher and Jabar were probably the same age. Jabar dropped me on my king-size bed. I leaned back on my elbows, knees up and apart with a devilish grin.

“Stay there!” he said, and he went to the door of the bedroom to retrieve his warm-up suit. I was looking up at the ceiling, ready to feel him inside me for the rest of the evening.

Jabar sat on his side of the bed, picked up the orange juice and drained the glass in one long, slow drink. He stood and began to dress, putting on his warm-up pants, his socks.

“Jabar!”

He looked down at me on the bed. “Beg me to stay, yo,” Jabar said, slipping his T-shirt over his shoulder. He looked serious.

Was he playing with me? Zola does not beg. Would he really walk out on me? Who's the Play-Doh now?

“Jabar, come to bed, baby,” I said, as I tried to beg and seduce him simultaneously. “I'm sorry.”

Jabar moved closer to the bed, pulling off his warm-ups. I noticed his erection was still around in the flickering light from the candles, which threw his shadow across the bed and over my body.

“Will you be good?”

“I will be very good,” I said as I gently touched my nipples.

“Yo, you got to stop so much playing, Z. You know, I been thinking 'bout this all day,” Jabar said as he placed his face at my center, kissing me until I felt as wet as a gushing spring.

“Don't you want to come in from the cold?” I whispered as I stroked his erection.

“Yo, Z . . . in a minute. Don't this feel good?”

“It feels amazing,” I moaned.

“That's what's up,” Jabar mumbled.

Moments later he entered me. I felt like he was using my body like he was seeking refuge in some secret space that only I possess. I felt like I was going to explode as I enjoyed the sound of Usher's sensual voice and the rhythm of Jabar's heavy breathing. They both sounded like I felt: magical and magnificent.

16
__________________

“Have you been sleeping, Raymond?” Dr. Few asked just as I was getting comfortable on her sofa.

“Somewhat,” I said.

“What does that mean?”

“I stay at the office pretty late. I come home and watch a little television, or it watches me, eat dinner, and maybe have a couple of glasses of wine, and I'm in bed by ten. The problem is I wake up around three-thirty, wide awake. I go to sleep again around maybe six. I know it's six because I have the television on TV Land and
Mannix
comes on at that time. I guess I fall asleep and I wake up again when the alarm goes off around seven-thirty,” I said.

“Do you want me to prescribe something to help you sleep?”

“I don't know. I don't think I'm ready to do the drug thing,” I said.

“What do you think about when you wake up?”

I thought about her question for a few moments and then I began talking. “I think about the fact I can't believe I'm living in New York City, working for one of the most powerful men in the world. A black man whom I can't figure out if I like or not. I respect Davis, but something isn't right. I don't know what it is. I think about Trent, our relationship, and what went wrong. I wonder if I'm ever gonna really have true love in my life. A love I can depend on. I know I'll have people who will say that they love me. Might even love me for that moment in time. I want an everlasting, unconditional love, someone who's gonna love me forever like my parents and my brother. And then there are moments when I think I don't want anything to do with love. I just want to go and date, have fun without feelings or emotions attached. Like a male version of
Sex in the City.
Damn, what am I talking about? Men have always lived their love life like that,” I said as I paused and took a swig of the bottled water I was holding near the not-so-lean part of my stomach.

“So you're saying there isn't much difference between heterosexual men and homosexual men?” Dr. Few asked.

“Not really. We're both accidents waiting to happen,” I said causally.

“What do you mean by accidents?”

“The opportunity to fuck up. Mistakes,” I said.

“Have you ever made mistakes in your journey toward manhood?”

Damn, that's a deep question, I thought. Should I come clean? Yeah, I was paying Dr. Few to tell the truth and not worry about judgment.

“Yeah, I have.”

“Are there any mistakes that stick out in your mind?”

I thought for a few seconds and said yeah.

“Would you like to talk about it?”

“I've made a lot of bad decisions in my love life. Done a lot of dumb things in the name of lust. I remember one time I was in Florida and I don't really recall if I was there on vacation or for business. Anyway, I was staying at a motel, which means I was most likely spending my own money. It was some kind of motel with the two double beds, cheap furniture, and the television standing on the low end of the dresser drawers. Small rectangular soap that didn't have any kind of fragrance to it or much lather for that matter. I digress. I woke up one morning with nothing but my underwear on and I get out of bed and walk over to the curtains to see if it's going to be a sunny day or a rainy day; you know, with Florida you can never tell. I think I was yawning and had my hand in my drawers rubbing on my sex like I'm digging for gold, and I suddenly notice this man getting in his car. He stops and he's just staring at me. It was early morning, which means I probably had a hard-on. I don't like the way he's looking at me, so I push back the curtains. I must have been heading for the shower or to the bathroom, when I suddenly hear a knock at the door. Still in my underwear, I walked to the door and opened it and there's the man from the car standing at my door. He has on a skinny tie with a short-sleeve shirt. I don't know why I remember that, but he looked like a geek,” I said. I took another swig of my water and wondered if I should continue.

“What did he want?”

“He just looks down at my crotch and says, ‘Can I suck your dick?'”

“What did you say?”

“I just laughed and said, ‘Not now, come back in an hour,' and then I shut the door,” I said.

Dr. Few gazed intently at me for a few moments and then asked, “Did he come back?”

“Yeah, in almost an hour on the dot. I let him suck my dick, got off, and asked him to leave,” I said.

“How did you feel?”

How did I know that question was coming?

“I was young, so I didn't feel guilt. That was a time in my life when I thought about sex a lot and it was nothing for me to have sex three or four times a day. It didn't matter if I was alone,” I said as a grin came across my face.

“What are you thinking about?” Dr. Few asked.

“Looking back, life was so simple then. I thought it was tough, but I didn't have a clue,” I said.

“How so?”

“I was so busy trying to live up to the expectations of my parents, peers and the world. I made life harder than it needed to be.”

“Do you think you're doing that now?”

“I'm trying my damnedest not to. That's why I'm here,” I said. I noticed Dr. Few look at her watch, and so I lifted my body and prepared to leave.