Between My Thighs: An Urban Erotic Tale (2 page)

• • •

Dallas looked at her missed calls, going on about how Troy had called earlier. It didn’t matter that it was four o’clock in the morning, she needed to call him back.

“I spoke to Troy when he called, Dallas,” I informed her. I was half sleep and thinking about how Troy would eventually quench my thirst.

“Oh, what did he want?”

“He asked what I had planned for the day and offered to give me a tour of the city since you were busy.” Dallas watched with an envious look on her face. She resented that Troy took it upon himself to entertain me without her.

“Funny that nigga starts calling since you’ve been in town,” Dallas replied. She was pissed although she tried to maintain her cool. “Well, I’ll call and tell him thanks for entertaining my friend,” and she did.

I rested on the other side of the bed Dallas and I were sharing, playing back the memories of the day as I listened to Dallas ramble on to Troy about how his gesture was so nice and she couldn’t believe he offered. Dallas wasn’t slick. She was trying to see what the underlying factor was that would make him call out of the blue and offer to take me sightseeing. I fell asleep listening to her sound pathetic and unattractive.

“Raquel, you sleep?” Dallas asked a few minutes later. I ignored her until she started tapping me.

“I was,” I replied in a frustrated tone. Every since college, Dallas has been notorious for waking others. You couldn’t relax or sleep around her when she was up. It would only be a matter of time before she brought you into her mixed-up reality—if she couldn’t sleep, you couldn’t.

“I just got off the phone with Troy. Did he hit on you?”

Dallas was speculating. I didn’t know what Troy said to her, but I was sure it didn’t involve him taking me to dinner, kissing me, getting my pussy wet, and making plans to pick up where we left off. It was too late for her nonsense.

“Why would you ask me something like that, Dallas? What the hell you think?” I was good at flipping shit and making the other party look at fault. My background in psychology taught me well. I could get myself in or out of any situation. Her interrogation efforts annoyed me.

“You would tell me if he did, right?” Her expression revealed the deepest level of desperation. I’d never seen her so low. I knew better than to divulge the chain of events that resulted in Troy and me making a connection.

“Of course not,” I replied.

“That’s good, girl, because I love Troy. He’s someone I really feel serious about. I know I deal with a lot of men, but it’s different with Troy,” she said. “I’m finally getting through to him and can’t wait until the next time his fine ass is up in me.” That statement prompted me to focus more on the conversation than intended.

Dallas had met Troy at a block party a few years back. She didn’t know much about him other than he made her panties wet. It was just this year she learned his real name was Troy. He introduced himself as Paulie and had her believing he lived in the Bronx. Truth was his ass lived right up the block off Rockaway Parkway. Dallas fell in love with all the men she encountered, so it didn’t faze me when she said she loved him.

“What do you mean, back up in you?” I asked. Dallas had so many variations of how she and Troy hooked up I didn’t know what the truth was.

“Well, we didn’t really have sex. I mean, he put the head in, but we didn’t have any rubbers, and he refused to continue. We never had the chance to really make it happen.”

Now I understood the desire she had for Troy. He was the first man she couldn’t entice with the pussy, and it baffled her, demanded she elevate her game to a new level. Only problem was Dallas didn’t know with whom or what she was playing.

• • •

Several days passed, and I marveled over the fact Troy hadn’t called since our rendezvous. Perhaps Dallas got to him or he was playing me as he often played her. Either way, I intended to enjoy my last week in New York City.

It was Saturday morning and Dallas had left early for a speech class she was taking for credit toward a second master’s in communicative disorders. The instructor had given the class a break when she went over to talk with Marcus, a friend she’d made in class.

“What’s up?” she asked.

“Hey. You,” he replied.

“What are you getting into tonight? My girlfriend is in town, and I’m looking for something for us to do later,” she told him.

“What does your girl look like?” Marcus asked.

“Does that determine what’s going on tonight?” she asked.

“Maybe,” he said.

“She’s about five-ten, brown skin, light brown eyes, and long hair. She’s sexy, but all my friends are,” Dallas said, attempting to arrange the plans for the evening.

“How old is she?” Marcus asked.

“She’s thirty,” Dallas responded.

“Oh, yeah, what does she like to do?” he asked.

“She isn’t really into the hip-hop club scene. She would enjoy a nice jazz or poetry spot.”

“Is she freaky? You think she’d be down for a threesome?”

“Maybe,” Dallas replied.

“Well, I can grab one of my boys and we can take you guys out,” he offered.

“Aiight, I’ll let her know,” Dallas said and returned to her seat.

• • •

I was sitting on the sofa, thinking about Troy and allowing my hands to linger over my pussy when I heard Dallas coming in the front door.

“Hey, girl, we’re going out tonight. I figured we could hit a spot on Long Island since you’re into spoken word,” Dallas said.

My body was calling for Troy. That orgasm I was about to have before Dallas walked in begged to be released, and since I was having neither, I was down for some poetic justice.

“That’s cool with me. Who are we hanging with?” I asked. Dallas didn’t have a car so I knew she’d found someone to chauffeur us around.

“Marcus, my friend from school, is going to take us out. He’s working on his master’s in international business and bringing a friend for you,” she said.

He was the first educated man with whom Dallas dealt. I remembered him vaguely from one of her stories. My mind was fixated on Troy, and I was about to write him out of my diary when he called.

“Hello,” I said.

“What’s up, girlfriend? Yo, sorry I didn’t get back to you sooner. I definitely want to link up before you leave out,” Troy said.

He was good at his shit. Immediately, I was ready to cancel my plans with Dallas and spend the rest of my evening with him, but since I already committed, I decided to postpone any adventure between the two of us until the time was right.

“I’m going out with Dallas tonight,” I said.

“Is that Jason?” Dallas asked, shifting her focus from what she was doing to my conversation. I looked at her and shook my head, as if she was disturbing me. She went back to what she was doing, but was still eavesdropping.

“You sound like her,” Troy said. “When I first spoke to you on the phone, I thought it was her.”

“If it were, what would you have said?”

“That Jason wanted to speak to you, and when she put you on the phone, I would have been on the other end.” Troy laughed at his plot to get next to me without his boy or my girl recognizing the scandal taking place.

Troy had his way with women. He was the type who could pull any lady, from classy to trashy, all in the same breath. He didn’t have to try hard either. He exuded a strong vibe, and regardless how high your guard, it was coming down at some point.

“Let’s hook up tomorrow. Don’t stand me up either,” I replied jokingly.

“Until next time. Stay sweet, girlfriend.”

We ended our conversation, and I grabbed my things and hit the road with Dallas. Marcus seemed to be cool when he picked us up. For some reason, his boy was unable to make it, so it was just the three of us. It was okay because I wasn’t trying to hook up with his friend anyway. I was more interested in getting the night over for my date with Troy.

Marcus was financially set. He drove a Range Rover and lived in a prominent neighborhood on Long Island. We stopped by his house so he could change clothes. While Marcus got himself together, I logged onto his computer to check e-mail and things at my office.

“You mind if I hop in the shower real quick while you’re checking your mail?” Marcus asked me.

“No, it’s alright.”

“I’ll be back,” Dallas said a few minutes later.

When she stepped her ass in the shower and fucked Marcus, I continued with my work like business as usual. The screams grew louder, and moans and groans escaped from the bathroom. Dallas was broadcasting to the world she was being fucked. Unfortunately, I was the only one in the listening party, and it made me focus more on what I should have been doing my damn self—fucking Troy.

After the charade was over, Dallas joined me in Marcus’s home office. She’d been hollering as if she wasn’t handling the dick. I just continued with what I was doing until Mr. Baller, Shot Caller brought his ass out geared up and ready to roll.

It was a nice crowd when we arrived at the club. A couple comedians were performing before the floor was opened for spoken word artists to do their thing.

I’d been writing poetry for years, started back in college when I discovered I needed an outlet for the days of my life, but that night I just wanted to listen to the natives.

“Go up there, girl. Do the damn thing,” Dallas demanded after open mic started.

“I’m good. I’m not feeling like it tonight,” I replied.

Although I loved poetry and spoken word, I wasn’t ready to get up and freestyle. Dallas wasn’t taking no for an answer. She’d already placed my name in the queue without my knowledge.

“Is there a Dr. Howard in the house?” the deejay announced.

Uncontrollable laughter came over us when I realized what Dallas had done. Once the spotlight hit me, there was no backing out.

“I’ll get you later, Dallas,” I said, approaching the stage.

I hadn’t prepared anything specific, and my mind was racing with thoughts of what to say to hold down the crowd. I glanced around the room, not expecting to see any familiar faces. When I noticed Troy in the back near the bar sitting with someone who resembled him—perhaps his brother—my words just flowed as our eyes met.

My name is Raquel, and I’m sensitive about my shit.

The crowd was in an uproar. I sat and glanced in the direction of the bar. Troy was gone.

“Where’s Dallas?” I asked Marcus when I returned to our table.

“She went to the restroom just as you finished. Yo, girl, that shit was tight.”

“Thank you,” I said, motioning for the waitress so I could order a drink as a voice whispered behind me.

“You were sexy as hell tonight, and I anticipate being with you tomorrow, girlfriend.”

Dallas returned to the table just as Troy departed. He approached me incognito, dropped something in my ear, and was out just like that. Marcus wore a twisted smile on his face, the kind that almost made me think he was jealous. He didn’t know Troy, so our cover wasn’t blown.

The waitress arrived at the table with my drink in hand. “Here you are, miss,” she said as she placed a glass of Kendall Jackson Chardonnay on the table.

“This is the drink I wanted, but I didn’t place an order yet,” I said, confused by her knowledge of what I was having.

“Compliments of Mr. Grimes. He asked that I tell you ‘later girlfriend,’” the waitress said and walked off.

Dallas stared at me intently before she said, “Nice job up there, Raquel. I knew you had it in you.”

There was something going on with Dallas. I wasn’t sure if she saw Troy or was just jealous because I was in the spotlight. The girl should have been used to me being the center of attention. She always followed my lead and couldn’t compete with my looks. I was gorgeous. Not conceited, just convinced was my motto. My body was sculpted. I’d inherited my silky-smooth skin from my mother, my height from my absentee father, and my sensual curves from Mother Nature. When I walked in any room, all eyes were on me, and whispers filled the air. I was the reason women had ribs removed, hoping to create that perfect waistline. I had both sexes gawking.

“Thanks, girl,” I responded to Dallas. “That was fun. I haven’t freestyled in a long time.”

Although I loved to write poetry in my down time, sharing it with others wasn’t common practice. Typically, I reserved my erotic thoughts for someone special. Seeing Troy in the place made me realize he was that someone.

Chapter 2|

It was getting late. The clubs in New York weren’t like those in Detroit, closing at 2:00 a.m. The party wasn’t going to end until six in the morning. I couldn’t hang that late, was tired and ready to get out of my clothes. We left the club around three o’clock that morning.

“Why don’t you guys stay at my place tonight? It’s late, and I can take you home in the morning,” Marcus said. He didn’t feel like driving us back to Brooklyn, and Dallas, she was sloppy drunk. I didn’t like his idea.

“Where am I supposed to sleep? I didn’t come to New York to be sleeping on the floor,” I said in a tone like
you must be kidding, right?

Marcus detected my opposition, and before I knew it, he offered his king-size bed as the alternative, suggesting there was plenty of room for the three of us, all jokes aside.