Birth of a Dark Nation (6 page)

I looked over to my left and saw that Dante
was also covered in the paint, even to the tips of his dreadlocks.
The volunteers kicked us out of the station and told us that if we
waited in the sun, the paint would be dry before we knew it.

"Dude, I can't believe you set me up like
that! I don't want to be in a damn parade all day, and I for damn
sure don't want to be in this damn body paint!"

"Hey… I just wanted to do something fun and
spontaneous with you," he said quietly. "I'm sorry I ain't ask you
first."

I leered at him and then looked away. I was
pissed. I was inclined to just walk back over the hill and go
home.

"Don't go," he said. It was almost as if he
had read my mind.

"I ain't going anywhere. I just better
goddamn well enjoy this fucking parade."

His white teeth shined through the red paint
as he smiled.

"You will," he said.

After standing in the sun for about twenty
minutes, the paint had indeed mostly dried, just in time for the
band to wind up and the soca music to start playing.

I hated to admit it at the time, but I really
did end up having a great time. I hadn't heard good soca since I
was in college. To hear it live and in a band of a hundred people
was on another level all together. As soon as we began moving down
Georgia Avenue, I forgot how pissed off I was at Dante.

It was hot. Yet we danced all the way down
Georgia Avenue, grinding and winding away. The sweat broke through
our body paint and made flesh colored trails down our bodies. I
didn't even realize until four blocks down the parade route that I
was naked from the waist up. I did not have the same kind of body
that Dante did. I was about a forty in the waist and curvy in
places I should have been angular. In short, I probably looked like
somebody's crazy pot-bellied uncle out there. Panic slowly crept
over me.

I stopped dancing and started walking. I
tried to imagine that I was invisible and would somehow disappear
entirely.

Noticing how my demeanor had changed, Dante,
who previously was swept up in the music, came back down to earth
to reassure me.

"You know you look good, right?" he said
earnestly.

"Whatever," I said. I didn't truly believe
him.

"Seriously." He slapped me on the back and
prodded me into dancing again.

Did I mention it was hot? We walked and we
marched and we danced and we walked and we marched and we ran (when
there was an unforeseen gap in the parade) and we danced some more.
I swear I sweated off ten pounds that day.

We finally ended up at Banneker Field, across
from Howard University, for the big Caribbean festival after the
parade was over. I was exhausted and hungry, yet Dante seemed to
have even more energy. We got some Jamaican patties and ate them on
the bleachers.

"Aren't these supposed to have beef? Where's
the beef?" I asked.

"Oh, I got vegetable. You know I don't eat
meat, right?"

"Yeah, I noticed. But
I
like beef
though! I guess I'll live though." I smiled.

"You having fun?" he asked me, as we watched
the revelers dance in front of the big stage and continued to bake
in the sun hours later.

"Yeah, I am," I said through a still-red
smile on my face. "I kind of want to go home and shower,
though."

"Yeah, me too," he said. We had spent hours
on the parade route and just kicking it at the festival but I
didn't really want the day to end.

"Hey… Why don't we go to my place?"

"But I'm still all red and sticky," he said.
His dark brown eyes gleamed in the sun as he spoke.

"You can shower there," I said.

"Word?"

"Yeah man, you shouldn't have to catch the
bus all the way across town like that."

"We gotta catch the bus to Kennedy," he
countered.

"Well, I was just offering," I said. "And you
haven't seen my place yet."

"You inviting me over?"

"Yeah."

"You sure?"

"Yes! See, now you actin' silly." I stood up
and began walking to the trashcans and the exit.

"You comin'?" I asked. He stood up and
followed me off the field.

As the parade had been long over, Georgia
Avenue was now open to traffic again. We waited about ten minutes
before one of the big 70-route buses came up the street. We paid
our fare, but only after the driver told us we "bet not" sit down
in his seats. We stood up for the ten-minute ride up the street,
laughing the whole way.

Soon, we were at Kennedy Street. I thanked
the driver and we started walking the few blocks back to my
apartment. There were no rustles in the bushes this time around. I
couldn't believe I had been so frightened of nothing on the nights
I'd had my panic attacks.

I noticed at this point that Dante and I very
rarely made small talk. When we did have conversations, they were
thorough. Robust. But when there was down time, we sort of
just…looked at each other. Sometimes, I smiled. Sometimes, he
shrugged. Most times, there was just this sense of peace. It was
only in that moment that I found it to be strange. To be around
someone so often and to say so little, but to feel so at ease, was
a new feeling for me, indeed.

"You good?" he asked, as though he read my
thoughts in that instant.

"I'm good. My apartment building is on the
next corner. The big yellow one."

Kennedy Street was similar to Rhode Island
Avenue, with its liquor stores and beauty salons, but my street
also had more residential properties. One side of my street had
Mexican and Ethiopian restaurants with a row of five houses in
between them. My side of the street had two big yellow brick
buildings. They were three story apartments, each with around
twelve units. The buildings were on opposite corners of the block
and an unbroken row of two story houses filled out the space
between them.

"This is it," I said. I took my keys from my
pocket and unlocked the front door. There was no security system in
this old building, just a Plexiglas door in a metal frame. I walked
up the stairs to the third floor and Dante followed me.

"This is an old building," he said, as he
looked around the hallway. We had a black and white tiled floor and
institutional-looking blue walls that seemed to come straight from
a 1940s-era hospital.

"Yeah, it is. We don't even have central air,
man. I've got to leave one of my units on while I'm out just to
make sure shit doesn't literally melt in this heat."

I opened my door and the heat from the living
room hit us.

"And this is clearly not the room where I
keep the air on," I joked. He paused and looked around my space. It
wasn't anything to write home about. I'd guess that the 42-inch
flat screen television was the most interesting thing in the room.
I really needed to invest in some curtains, as the metal
blinds—even when closed—were doing nothing to keep the heat out.
Nor were the hardwood floors.

To my surprise, he wasn't interested in the
TV, or my CD collection, or even my DVDs, which had their own small
shelving system. Instead, he made a beeline to the small, framed
photos on my wall. He inspected each one carefully.

"This yo fam?" he asked.

"Yup, I can point them out later. Let me show
you the bathroom now and get that shower going."

I led him down the hallway toward my room but
stopped short at the linen closet. I grabbed spare towels and
washcloths and held on to them. I then turned the corner and
entered my bathroom, turning on the light and ensuring that there
was enough soap and shampoo there for him.

"I think you got everything now," I said,
turning to leave. He grabbed my arm.

I turned back around.

"What's up?"

"I don't have everything I need," he
said.

"Oh," I said softly. He pulled me close to
him and looked down at my body, still caked with blood-red body
paint and stained with sweat. Neither of us had put our shirts back
on.

"You look so fuckin' good," he said.

"Thank you. Your body is amazing."

"Thank you." He grabbed my face, closed his
eyes, and kissed me on the lips.

I held him at his sides and kissed him back.
I felt like a brittle doll made out of clay. Our bodies rubbing
against each other through the dried body paint felt unnatural.

"I'll start your shower," I said. I let him
go and turned on the hot water, then the cold, then the
showerhead.

"Thank you," he said. I turned my head as he
began to take off his shorts. I began to wash my hands (which I
should have done before touching the clean towels-dummy) and I
looked at myself in the mirror. I was a fright. Too bad we didn't
take any pictures.

"Justin."

"Yeah?"

"Whatchu waitin' for?"

I looked at Dante, who had stepped into the
shower and had leaned back to look at me through the side of the
curtain.

"I'm not waiting for anything," I said. I was
confused by his comment.

"Then why you not in here with me?"

"You want me to shower with you?"

"Yeah…please."

"Aight," I said, nodding. I slowly dropped my
shorts to the floor next to his and climbed in behind him in the
shower. I couldn't help it—seeing his thin, narrow body in the
shower directly in front of mine gave me an instant erection. The
red paint rolled off his body under the force of the water, leaving
behind dark, brown, and wet muscle.

He backed up onto me, rubbing his ass on my
erection. I hugged him from behind and rested my chin on his
shoulder, next to his still-red dreadlocks. I didn't realize until
that moment that I was actually taller than him. I was taller and I
was bigger. The entire time, I had the physical advantage against
him. For what reason would I have to be remotely intimidated by
him, as I often felt?

I knew why. His personality was six feet
tall. His masculine aggressiveness commanded a room, or a park, or
whatever space he inhabited at that moment. Whatever he even
remotely suggested felt like a demand to me. And I was totally
smitten by him.

He grinded his ass on my erection and asked
me if I liked it. I did. I told him so. He grinded on me harder. My
arms embraced him from behind and traveled down his torso. I cupped
his erection and was pleasantly surprised at its length and its
girth.

"Justin," he moaned.

"Yeah," I whispered in his ear.

"Can you help me wash this red shit out of my
hair?"

"No doubt," I said. I grabbed the shampoo
from the caddy in my shower and squirted copious amounts in my
hands. I rubbed them together and then started working it into his
long locs. He took the shampoo from me and did the same until his
head was a massive mushroom of white foam. He closed his eyes and
relaxed while I took my time scratching his scalp and working the
dye out of the locs.

I stood back and let him rinse the suds from
his head until the last remnants of the red dye drained down the
tub and the water was clear. Dante wiped the water out of his eyes
and faced me, his erection still rock hard.

"Let's…uh…" I began.

"Finish up in here?" he asked.

"Yeah… Expeditiously."

We lathered up and scrubbed vigorously,
making sure every last bit of dye was off our bodies. He turned the
water off and I hopped out first, grabbing towels and tossing them
to him, one for his hair and another for his body. There was still
one left for me.

Before I was even the least bit dry, he began
kissing me again. He threw his towel onto the hallway floor and I
led him into my bedroom. I fell into my bed and Justin pushed me
down, his mouth barely leaving me.

"Justin," he said, in between kisses to my
face and neck.

"Yeah, man?" I said back. He stopped and
stared deeply into my eyes.

"You smell…so…fucking…good!"

He kissed me on my lips, and then my neck,
inhaling deeply.

That's weird,
I chuckled to
myself.

"Zestfully clean, baby," I said. We flipped
over and his still damp dreadlocks made a halo around his head on
the bed.

"Justin," he said again.

"Yeah?" I looked into his eyes.

"I want you," he said.

"I want you, too," I smiled.

"I want you to fuck me. Right now."

"I want to fuck you right now," I repeated. I
spread his legs and lifted them over my shoulders as he held on to
my sides.

"Wait, I need to go get a condom and lube," I
said, letting his legs slide down.

"You don't need a condom," he replied. "Just
lube."

"I don't need a condom," I repeated without
thinking. "Just lube."

I reached in my drawer and grabbed the tube
of lube as well as a handful of condoms. I shook my head. What was
I thinking?

"I always use condoms, babe. Don't know what
I was thinking." I unrolled the Magnum onto my erection, smoothed
some lube over it, and rubbed some into Dante's hole.

When I looked into his eyes, he looked
puzzled.

"You okay?" I asked.

"Yeah. I'm good. Now fuck me."

I slowly slid my penis inside his tight hole.
He let out a slow growl as I adjusted myself inside him. He grabbed
onto me tightly.

"Goddamn, you so big," he said. I grinned on
the outside but was high-fiving myself on the inside.

We fucked for a really, really long time.
Dante was full of tricks, from the reverse cowboy to some shit I'd
never done that must have looked like a giant crab. I worked that
ass like there wasn't going to be a tomorrow.

It all came back to my favorite position
though: face-to-face with me on top. Those final few thrusts were
magical. We looked at each other eye to eye the whole time until I
came inside him (and safely in my condom). At the precise time that
my body spurt my kids out, he shivered and came in white torrents
on his own chest, completely untouched by me or his own hands.