Black Silk (45 page)

Dana hops up as the announcement is made that flight number 2318, arriving from California with connections through Chicago,
will be disembarking at gate number three on the upper deck. She stands. She sits. She pulls out the picture again, takes
another long stare, and stands again… She brushes her pants, pulls down her shirt. She runs her hand over her hair.
She’s here,
she thinks, then she pulls out the placard she had made for Janell.

Janell walks out with the crowd, anxious to meet Dana yet worried that she will not recognize her. But Dana assured her, humorously,
that there wouldn’t be very many wimmin who looked like her in Maine. Janell walks into the terminal and sees a beautiful,
full-figured dyke smiling pleasantly and holding a sign that says
SPECIALGRL
;) in bold, purple letters. At the same time a voice on the airport speaker says, “Welcome to Maine, the way life should
be.”

_________________

by Carl Weber

When I was eighteen, I was working in a strip club and I ran into this nigga named Black who I really cared about. He was
real smooth and told me everything I wanted to hear. Like most young sisters, I confused good sex with love and I ended up
giving him my money. I didn’t mind giving Black my money, though. Especially since he kept tellin’ me how much he loved me
and that he planned on marrying me when we had enough money. But after a while he started beating on me and when the beatings
got real bad, I had to cut his ass loose.

I’d tried guys and that didn’t work so I looked to chicks. I’d been attracted to females ever since I was a kid and experimented
so chicks weren’t a real problem. There’s nothin’ in the world like a sexy sister. Don’t get me wrong, I like guys, too, but
the way women make love is so completely different from the gruffness of a man. There is nothing in the world like the gentle
touch of a woman when she kisses your breasts, or the expertise she has when she goes down on you. Try as hard as you want,
some things you just can’t teach a man. Or so I thought.

By the time I was twenty, my older sister had joined me in the strip club. I don’t know why she didn’t wanna learn from my
mistakes, but six months later she’d hooked up with a brother just like Black and ended up pregnant. After she had her baby,
I left the streets and came on home permanently. I wasn’t stripping as much. For some reason my heart just wasn’t in it anymore,
plus Black was back in town and I was sick of fucking niggas just to protect me from him. He’d been popping up talking a lot
of shit lately and although I don’t wanna admit it, I was more than a little scared.

When I got home, my mom was on that crack shit so bad I felt obligated to take care of my brother and nephew. My sister was
straight up out of there and the truth is, I was more of a mother to her child than she was. I guess inside I really wanted
a baby of my own—someone I could care for and be that family I’d always wanted.

At that point in my life, the only thing I really had besides my little brother and my nephew was my singing. I loved to sing
more than anything in the world. Shit, I was good at it. I could sing my ass off and that’s what I did every chance I had.
I belonged to two churches and was a member of both their choirs. I know it sounds fucked up, a stripper going to church,
but God knows the deal. I was doing what I had to do.

My life wasn’t great but it wasn’t that terrible either. These things were the best I had. That is, until I ran into him.
He wasn’t all that—short, dark skinned, with dreads and a beard. Truth is, I really don’t know why I stopped to talk to him
in the first place. Let me stop lying, it was his eyes. From the second he laid his eyes on me that nigga thought he knew
me. I remember him asking me for my phone number. I smiled right in his face and gave him some bogus shit. Then I started
to walk away but something inside made me go back and get his number.

That’s when he handed me some poetry he was writing and it was real good. So I told him about my singing. He was the first
person I’d ever met who was really interested. That’s when he asked me for a kiss. Would you believe I almost gave it to him,
too. There was something about that brother. I don’t know what it was but I kept thinking about him when I got home that night.
I didn’t even know what kind of car he drove. The nigga could have been a broke ass but it didn’t matter. He’d got to me that
quick.

I called him at work the next day and set up a date. I knew he wasn’t gonna be anything more than a slam-bam-thank-you-ma’am
but that was okay. I figured if I wanted to be truly intimate, I woulda called a girl. Truth is I was horny as hell. When
he picked me up, I didn’t invite him inside. I was too embarrassed. My moms was home and she was high as shit. He asked me
if I wanted to go to the movies and I just told him to take me to a hotel.

When we got inside the hotel, Homeboy took off his clothes and got into bed. He propped up a pillow behind him as he watched
me undress. He was smiling like he was really looking forward to getting some. When I got all my clothes off it was cold and
I couldn’t wait to get under the covers. The sex was gonna have to wait till I warmed up a bit. To my surprise the bed was
real warm and when he wrapped his arms ’round me so was he. He stared at me with those eyes and I didn’t know whether to laugh
or cry. He was making me feel like they do on the stories when they make love.

He began to gently kiss my neck the way I like it. I closed my eyes and it was almost as if I was with a woman. I rolled my
neck around so he could kiss the on the side and he did. I couldn’t help myself, I let out a few moans. He took his time switching
between my ears and my neck but not once did he touch any other part of my body. I was getting moist and my nipples were begging
to be touched. He must have read my mind because his fingers oh so gently began to rub up against them. I was in heaven and
when we made eye contact, I tried to let him know how good it felt.

His lips moved down to my breasts and the way he licked them made my womanhood gush. The way he wrapped those sexy lips around
my nipple was driving me crazy and I slowly began to grind my hips. He was moving back and forth between my titties like it
was the last time he’d ever see them. I’d never been with a man who was so attentive. Hell, I’d only been with a few women
who were that attentive. After he’d given both my titties proper attention he surprised me by kissing his way down to my womanhood.
He didn’t just shove his tongue inside me or take his hand and open me up like most men. No, he knew exactly what he was doing.

His tongue ran down my pubic hair and found its way right to my clit. When he touched it, I tensed up it felt so good. I looked
down at him again, and he smiled before licking me again. My toes curled that shit felt so good. I glanced down at him and
he was into it, I mean really into it. I just prayed he wasn’t gonna stop and if he had I would have begged him to continue.
I was so close to coming it scared me and the pleasure was beginning to become too much. He wrapped his lips around my clit
sucking on it gently as his tongue danced on the tip. I couldn’t take it anymore and tried to get away but he held on and
when I moved he went right with me. Tears of pleasure were falling from my eyes and I felt like I was gonna pass the fuck
out.

He eased up, smiling. He knew exactly what he was doing to me. I wanted to say something but I couldn’t. I was confused by
what he had done to me. He made his way up my body until his face was directly over mine. He didn’t say a word, just kissed
me, and I liked the taste of myself on his lips.

I slid down between his legs and looked at his thing. It wasn’t huge but it wasn’t little either. What I did like about it
was that it was smooth and didn’t have a lot of bumps like some brothers I’d been with. I wasn’t really into giving head but
I know men like it so I licked him, hoping to return the favor. He jumped when the ball from my pierced tongue touched him.
I did it again and he moaned. He was a real gentleman about it. He wasn’t like most guys who tried to shove their thing down
my throat and hold my head. He let me do what I had to do. I liked that and I could tell he was enjoying himself. After a
few minutes he stopped me. Pulling me up, he whispered, “Ride me.”

I looked down at him in amazement. How could he know that was my favorite position? I gently took his thing and slid down
on it. Damn, that shit felt good. He was the perfect fit for me. As I rode him, he began to suck on my breasts and I have
to admit I was wetter than I can ever remember being. I felt the urge to move faster on him and the faster I went the closer
I was. He was doing a masterful job on my titties and when I closed my eyes things started to happen. My upper body went rigid
and my lower half exploded, sending me to a place I’d never been before. I collapsed on his chest with a smile and surprised
myself by kissing him. Then I looked him in those eyes and said, “I love you.”

He smiled, almost laughed, then rolled me over on my back. I didn’t know what he was thinking but I didn’t care. I was feeling
something, maybe it wasn’t love but it was something. When I was with Black and them I had to say, “I love you.” It was just
part of that game. But with this brother, I just wanted to say it. I pulled back the covers and looked at his body. It wasn’t
anything special but it had done special things to me.

“I love you,” I told him, again.

“Sure you do.” He smiled again, wrapping his arms around me. “Sure you do.”

He kissed me and the only thing I could think was that I wanted to give him the same pleasure he’d given me. I began to massage
his muscles as his hips began to move him deeper inside of me. As he moved faster, a wave of pleasure hit me and it was hard
to concentrate on his pleasure when mine was so great. He was doing it to me again and this time I was going to be ready.
This time I was going to savor the moment. When the time had come, our lips were wrapped around each other and my body let
loose again but this time was different because his body did also. When he looked at me with those eyes, I could feel the
warmth he was splashing into my womb and at that moment I knew I was in love.

We left the hotel that night a couple. He may not have known we were a couple, but we were. When he pulled in front of my
house, I refused to get out. No way was I letting to of what had just happened to me. I needed to know he was mine.

“You got a girl?” I asked.

“No.”

“You got a wife?” I checked his finger for a mark or wedding ring.

“No.”

“What you got?”

“I got you,” he smiled.

Then I smiled. I never smiled like that before in my life. He made me feel so good with just a few words. I got out of his
car that night but the next day he picked me up and took me home to his moms’s. She was a churchwoman and took me in right
away like I was her own daughter. Me and him, we’re married now and we got three kids counting my nephew. Well, I guess that
old cliché about women in the life is wrong in my case. You
can
make a whore into a housewife; you just have to make love like a woman.

_________________

by Donna Hill

Hot, muggy, the kind of heat that coats the skin, pushes the wetness through the tiny pores of the flesh, covers the body
in a thin sheen of dewy dampness. A Bayou heat. Summer heat in Louisiana.

The hot, demanding hands of it fanned across my bare back, eased me toward the porch door and out into the clingy night seeking
what I could not see. But I knew it was out there, just beyond the mist hanging over the lazy, lapping river. Hanging like
warm breath puffed into the frigid air—waiting, changing.

Frigid, ha, yeah, that’s what they call me. At least that’s what the men in the dim saloons and sweaty cafés, where I work,
call me. Call me Frigid, instead of Chantel when they can’t get their grubby, gumbo-stained fingers around the swell of my
breasts, their lips locked on to the hard nipples that poke out to taunt them, or their thick, knobby cocks into that damp
darkness between my brown thighs. Brown-sugar thighs, I’ve been told. Frigid. Ha. They know nothing about my heat, my secret,
my mojo.

“Cher, what you got so good under them skirts we can’t have?” they’d taunt, between long, dribbling swallows of ice-cold tap
beer and hurricanes that would have them speaking in tongues before the night was over. I could never tell them. They wouldn’t
understand. Neither did I, didn’t want to make sense of it no how. Just didn’t want it to ever stop being what it was.

So I just stroll by their tables, slinking slow, like the hypnotic drip drip of a faucet, letting their eyes measure every
strut, dip, every jiggle, smiling a pussycat smile. If I turned just right at the precise moment, the one hanging lightbulb
would cut straight through my thin gauzy dress, give them an eyeful of lush tits, firm high ass, and that dark space between
my sugar-brown thighs they couldn’t get up in.