Best Black Women's Erotica (14 page)

“We started meeting with The Children to work out how this would go. I didn't want them caught off guard if I could help it. Of course, everyone knew who I was so there were phone threats and all. Still, we weren't too worried. Well, the night before The Children were to go to Central, the mob was getting frantic. You could feel it all over the city. Faubus called out the National Guard and forbade The Children from entering the school. We didn't realize until too late that Elizabeth Eckford who didn't have a phone had not been notified. That's the picture you always see of the girl trying to walk away with the mob screaming for her blood. God, that was awful. But we pulled through. Still the calls, hanging me in effigy, all the threats were really bothersome. We had our guns, we're country people so we know how to hunt, and our neighbors had their guns watching the block for us. We had this really beautiful picture window in the living room. I think a lot of houses had them, that 1950s-type GI housing. I used to love to turn off the lights and watch the stars through that window. Well, when the trouble started we pulled the curtains. But the second or third night we heard the glass break and a brick came sailing through. I was coming down the stairs when it happened but I wasn't struck. The glass was flying and L.C. came running in. I think I may have been cut a little but mostly my nerves were frayed. There were too many people in my house, there was too much hatred in my hometown, there was too little possibility of help coming. Well, just everything came together or I guess I should say fell apart. You asked me what was the most thrilling part of my participation in history? I can tell you it wasn't just The Children integrating Central and being safe. Ernest's graduation was mighty satisfying.
No, it wasn't the awards we all received. If a low spot was losing the paper, a high spot was reopening it even though it took ten years to do it. It wasn't even the President's Medal which never in my wildest dreams had I thought I would receive. No.

“I started crying and it just escalated on me. I went, I guess, from tears to sobs to some kind of hysteria. I just couldn't control myself. L.C. put his arm around me and started for the back of the house. That bathroom there, in fact. Reverend Taylor was at the table with some people and Chris said to him: Daisy and I Need to Be Alone. I learned later Reverend Taylor just pulled his chair up to the bathroom door with his rifle across his lap. Chris pulled me into the bathroom and looked around for the candle. We kept candles in each room because of the storms. I always like good-smelling candles in the bathroom so he lit them and the scent of lavender flowed. Chris put the stopper in the tub and ran a hot bath. He started unbuttoning my blouse and he was talking real soft, like you do to a crying baby or a wounded animal. He was kissing me and whispering to me while he took my bra off. I had chill bumps but I knew I wasn't cold. He was brushing my hair back while unzipping my skirt. He kept rubbing my back and my skirt fell on the floor. He pulled my half-slip over my head taking my arms way up high. His mouth was all over me, his fingers were playing inside my ears, then his nails were softly grating down my back. I tried to push his arm and found my fingers in his mouth so I traced his teeth then his lips then his chin. He pushed my panties aside and took control. I don't know if I screamed or dreamed that I did but it seem as if he lifted me by my middle and put me in the tub. He pulled my panties off as he settle me in the tub. We had the old-fashioned claw-footed tub so I was mostly sitting while he took the Sweetheart soap and rubbed under my arms, over my breasts, on my legs, and then he put it right next to me. I got to tell you my teeth were rattling. Chris was my husband and I liked him
and didn't mind doing my wifely duty but this was something else again. He practically made me sit on that soap and I broke out in a sweat. I never thought it would have been possible to want anyone as much as I wanted him right then. I was trying to pull him into the water but he just kept going over and at me with his mouth and the soap and the water. His shirt and tie were dripping and his pants were wet. I stood up because I couldn't take it anymore and when I stood he took both his hands and opened me and whipped my middle with his tongue. I felt like I was on a boat riding a fifty-foot wave. I tried to step out of the tub but I needed him to put his hands in my front and back to keep me steady I was trembling so much. As he lifted me down my hands were on his zipper. I didn't want to wait to get his pants down I needed him then. I don't know how we ended up in the chair but Chris was sitting there and I was on top of him. Lord, what we must have sounded like. When he didn't have any more to give I unbuttoned his pants and thanked him properly. We both just trembled and trembled. You know, Chris was much older than I was and always very solicitous of me. But this time he owned me, possessed me, made me feel the power of his love without apology. He took my head in his hands and guided me back to him. He let me know how much it meant to him. We moved back to the floor where he took his pants off but the shirt and tie were too wet and too much trouble. He lifted my legs over his shoulders and all I could say was Yes. Chris said, Daisy. I Want You to Remember This When the Mob Hollers Tomorrow. I Want You to Remember to Come Back Home to Me.

“They said I was brave; that I was cool, calm, and collected. What I was was happy in the contentment of being totally needed. I used to go to that front window, which we never repaired until the troubles were over, pull back the curtain, and holler: Bring On the Bombs, Crackers! Bring On the Bombs.”

 

 

 

 

 

Oh, hi! What are you doing here? I thought it was Jamal. Were you supposed to meet him here? No? Well, come on in; you can keep me company until he gets here. Let me take your coat. Mmm. I love the way leather smells, don't you? Nice slacks. You been working out? That silk shirt kinda clings to your body. I like it. Very smooth. Chocolate is definitely your color, my brotha! Why don't you have a seat—on the sofa. I sprayed the chairs with fabric freshener, so they might still be a little damp.

Why, thank you! I can't believe you remembered my birthday. How sweet. Listen, we're all going to the club tonight. I was gonna call and see if you and your lady wanted to come, but…well…I didn't know if…you know. Anyway, Lynn and Kathy are gonna be there. Even LaRhonda. And you know LaRhonda don't hardly ever get out! Gina and Alicia are up from LA and Raymond is coming, too. David's got that kick-ass commute all week, but I think Lena can get him to show. Roxanne? Now, you know it ain't a party without Roxanne and her cans of “act right!”

Anyway, we're gon' get our groove on, you hear me! So, why don't you come with us? After we've danced our butts off, everyone's coming back here for breakfast. I made fried chicken, homemade mashed potatoes and my special gravy, butter beans…You can smell it? That's the cornbread; it's still in the oven. I was gonna wait and make it later when we got back, but Jamal was taking so long, I needed something to do. You didn't know I could cook? Shoot. Not only can I cook, but dessert is my specialty! Tonight? Well, tonight, Monsieur, I am serving my world-famous gel rouge avec zee peachéz du cannes à la mode. Oui, oui. All us great chefs parlez vous français. You had four years of French in college? You never told me that. It must have been that
white
French. See, I'm talkin' Black French. You want the translation? Red Jell-O. With canned peaches. And Cool Whip on top. Don't laugh; I'll have you know this is considered a delicacy where I come from. Oh, so whatchu tryin' to say? I'm ghetto? Damn skippy! In fact, I'm gonna put my birthday candles in the Jell-O. I've been waiting for this night. My birthday hardly ever falls on a weekend, so I figured I'd throw myself a party. C'mon and go with us. Please? Well, will you at least think about it? Good enough.

Listen, can I get you something to drink? I'm having a Rémy. Double Rémy Martin straight up with a water back. I love saying that! I heard one of my mother's friends say it at my cousin Avé's wedding reception. I thought it sounded
so
sophisticated. I practiced saying it in the bathroom mirror over and over until I got the look down. Then on my twenty-first birthday, a bunch of us drove to Reno. I walked up to the bar at the first casino we went in, leaned in, inhaled on a cigarette, and said—in a low, kinda sexy voice—“I'll have a Rémy. Straight up. With a water back.” Then I let the smoke drift up out of my mouth. I thought I was
too
grown. Of course, I choked on the cigarette and
threw up that first Rémy. You go ahead and laugh, but I
know
I was cool.

I usually don't drink anything stronger than wine, but I need a little something to mellow me out. I don't want to be in a bad mood when Jamal
finally
gets his ass here. And I definitely don't want to have an attitude on my birthday. I mean he's your homie; you introduced us. You and me? We've been friends since what? Junior high? How come you didn't tell me your boy was so irresponsible? Lately I don't know if he's gonna be fifteen minutes late or a day and fifteen minutes late. And tonight, he hasn't even bothered to make his getting-tobe-like-clockwork hey-baby-something-came-up call.

Now don't look like that. You don't
have
to say anything; it's all over that handsome face. I can tell you're not feelin' me. I know when you introduced me to Jamal that you and me were starting to—you know—become more than friends. And I thought we had potential. I did. But you know how it goes. Fate stepped in and Jamal and I hooked up. But we're still friends. Right? No hard feelings? I guess you wouldn't be here otherwise. I like that about you. You just took it in stride, moved on the down the road and hooked up with Miss Thang.

Well, I'm gonna get a refill. A little one this time. I hear you. I'm gonna chill. But he's already two hours late and I hate to wait. A beer? Sure. I got plenty of beer. Jamal's favorite. Go ahead. Make yourself comfortable. Put on some sounds. Be right back. I've got to check on the cornbread, too.

Here's your beer. Use the coaster please. Thank you. You like this CD? I bought it yesterday. Thought it would make good lovemakin' music. There's that look again. Sorry, didn't mean to get personal on you. So where
is
Lynette tonight? I thought the two of you were inseparable. Last time I saw you, she was all up on you. You still with her? No? That's good. I never really liked her vibe. I mean, she's cute and
everything. And the girl can dress. But she acts like she all that. Running her fingers through that fake white-girl hair every ten seconds and shit. Rolling her eyes at all the sistahs. Well, ain't nobody “all that” in my book. At least not behind no tight body and a weave. Know what I mean?

You got the time? Wait a minute! Hold up there, brotha. Let me see that watch. Ooo whee! Business must be very, very good! And it's not too flashy either. I didn't even notice it at first. You got good taste. I like that. Nice hands, too. I wonder where the hell Jamal is. I'm cool. But, damn! He could at least call. Page me or something. You know?

So tell me, why'd you dump Lynette? Oh, sorry.
She
dumped
you
? That chick is crazy. What happened? If you don't mind me getting all up in your bizness. You lying! Another guy? That's cold. You didn't have any idea? None? I can always tell when
I'm
about to get kicked to the curb. You have to pay attention to the little things, you know. A look, a tone of voice, a smell even. But you didn't pick up on any clues, huh? Blindsided your ass, huh? That's cold. Playing you like that. I mean, if you want to get with someone, tell me! Don't play me until you got a foot in somebody else's door. It ain't that serious, ya know? Plus, that shit is stupid. You hurt someone when you don't have to. You lose a friend. You get a bad rep. I never want any negative-ass vibes out there about me. I try to be up front and honest, even if it's hard sometimes. I don't want nobody feeling like no fool behind something I did. That pisses people off. The truth is what goes around…that's right…comes right on back around. And that's real!

Yeah, that's cold. I'm sorry that happened to you. You're a nice guy. Respectful, ya know? A gentleman. You know what? That's your weakness. Yeah, now that I think about it, that probably
is
it. You're
too
nice. Too much like right. You got yourself a good education, your own business, you love your
momma, you're sensitive and responsible, you read books
and
you're intelligent. Damn, my brotha! I don't know how you
ever
get women!

'Course, on the plus side, you drive a phat car, your condo is screamin', you got plenty of cash…well, credit cards, but that still counts, and you're fine. No doubt about that. But there's no flash and cash about you. Know what I mean? No? I bet you've never even been arrested, have you? No. Flashy jewelry? No. Five children by three different women? No. See? That's what I'm talkin' about. C'mon, you don't even wear an earring. Even Michael Jordan wears an earring. Oh! My bad! Didn't even notice. Come closer. Lemme see. Is that a diamond? Mmm, you smell good. It's pretty small. But it's nice. I like it. There may be hope for you after all.

But clearly, my brotha, you are
in
this ghetto, but not
of
this ghetto. I mean where's the adventure, the thrill? Where's the danger? The excitement? The risky behavior? I'm too young to hook up permanently with someone who's already a grown-up. My grandmother would love you. She always gives me a hard time about who I'm dating, says I don't respect myself. The last guy I took over to her house, she called a bum to his face. She will
never
meet Jamal, know what I mean? I'm still tryin' to find myself. I don't really know
what
I want out of life. Not yet. And there you are—years into your thing, already. It's scary, like premature aging. Know what I mean?