Man Swappers (13 page)

I decide to fuck with him. “So are you coming through?”

“Uh, nah. I’m good.”

“You good?”

“Yeah,” he repeats.

Mmmph...since when this nigga start turning down pussy?

Since he started fucking some other bitch, that’s when.

“I’m feelin’ someone. And I need to fall back, plain and simple, until I can figure out how I’ma handle it.”

“Well, do you. Fall back, lean back. Take it as far back as you need to. But make sure you delete our numbers, okay.”

He sighs. “Yo, whatever. It’s not that serious.”

“Well, good. But before we hang up, answer me this: how long have you been dealing with this chick you’re
feelin’
, as you say?”

“Yo, not that I owe you any explanation ’cause you gonna think what you want. But, we’re not dealing. I’ve been feelin’ her for about four or five months now.”

“You were fucking her while you were fucking us?”

“Yeah, something like that.”

“Interesting. And why didn’t you tell us you were fucking someone else? You know our rule.”

“Yo, hold up,” he says, sounding annoyed. “If I’m single doing me, and we’re getting it in with no-strings attached, what the fuck does it matter who else I’m giving this dick to? I’m not committed
to anyone, and I don’t have to answer to anyone; especially to you. So you need to check ya’self for real.”

“You’re right,” I say, swiveling my chair from side to side. “You don’t have to answer to me. Nor am I asking you to. And you can definitely fuck whomever you want, so do you. But what you’re not gonna do is fuck me, my sisters, and some other bitch, too. Sorry, wrong answer. I told you when we first started wetting your dick that we don’t share dick outside of our circle. And you said you were cool with that.”

“And I was until shit got complicated.”

“Complicated for who? Never mind. Do me a favor and delete our numbers.”

He laughs. “Yo, you sound like you pissed that I’m feelin’ someone. And that someone ain’t
you
.”

I let out a sarcastic laugh. “Ha, don’t flatter yourself.”

“You know what; you funny as hell. Sharing dick is sharing dick, no matter who you’re sharing it with. And I’m sure I’m not the only dick y’all riding. But for you to think a muhfucka can’t fuck someone else outside of you and ya sisters is nutty as hell. But, it’s all good. I’ma delete ya digits. No problem, baby. I’m out.”

Click.
Oh, no the fuck he didn’t
, I think, staring at the phone. “Hello? Hello? That nigga really hung up on me.” My first thought is to call him back and curse him out, but then I decide he isn’t worth the energy. I pick up my cell and call Paris.

“Hey,” she says as soon as she picks up.

“Guess who had the nerve to finally call?”

She laughs. “Emerson. So is he seeing someone?”

“Girl, he’s been fucking some bitch he claims he’s feeling.” I replay the phone conversation to her.

“Wow.”

“Yup, wow is right. And that’s why he’s cut.”

“I liked him.”

“Girl, fuck him.”

“Mmmm, oh well,” she says, changing the subject. “Listen, before I forget. I’m meeting Mom for lunch today.”

“Have fun,” I say, sarcastically.

She laughs. “Gee, thanks. Since you and Porsha seem to be too busy for her, I get to have her all to myself.”

I grunt. “So basically she did what she does best. Made you feel guilty.” She laughs with me. Tells me that sometimes she feels bad for our mother; that she wishes the three of us had a better relationship with her. I roll my eyes up in my head. “Well, unfortunately, you know that’s not going to happen with her and me. You might be able to get Porsha to get on that bandwagon, but I got off a long time ago.”

She sighs. “I know, but still...she’s our mother. And she really does love us.”

“Yeah, well. She can love me from a distance.”

“Mmmm,” she says thoughtfully. She pauses. “So he’s really out?”

“Who?”

She sucks her teeth. “Emerson, who else?”

“Girlfriend, what part of the conversation did you not hear?”

She sucks her teeth. “Persia, don’t
you
get disconnected, okay? I’m only asking you a question.”

“And I thought we were done with the conversation.”

“We were. But now I’m back on it.”

“I
told
you what he said. And I told him to do him. So he’s tossed out like last week’s trash.”

“Mmmph. That’s too bad. The sex was good.”

“Whatever. What that nigga
had
was good. Good pussy, good brain, and nonstop fucking. But, that wasn’t enough.”

“True. But don’t you think...and let me finish before you start
spazzing out...that maybe—in this case—you might be overreacting? I mean. Up until the last few times Emerson has always been reliable and consistent when it came to serving up the dick. So, okay, he left us hanging a few times; big deal. It’s not like that stopped us from getting dick from someone else.”

I groan. “
And,
your point?”

“The
point
is he’s not our man...”

“Uh, ohhhhkaaay, tell me something I don’t already know.”

“And it’s not like we were dating him exclusively. We fuck whoever we want, whenever we want. So why couldn’t he?”

I roll my eyes. “Ohmygod, why are you acting like you’re trying to keep the man around? We don’t share a motherfucker outside of our circle, period.”

“Well, if he’s feeling this chick, then good for him. Obviously he needs more,” she says.

I raise my brow. “What, more pussy? More head? Please. He had, not one, not two, but three bad-ass women sexing his ass up and down. You know like I do we served up that nigga lovely.”

“True. But maybe he’s one of those men who wants to be connected to someone. You know. Maybe be in a committed, monogamous relationship. Not treated like he’s a piece of meat; only good for fucking.”

I frown.
Well, he was
. “And what gives you that impression? Were the two of you having sideline conversations Porsha and I don’t know about? ’Cause the way you’re talking, I’m starting to look at you sideways.”

She sighs loudly in my ear. “Persia, whatever! You can look at me sideways all you want. The fact of the matter is he’s a grown-ass man. And at the end of the day he was never obligated to us. So who or
what
he does with his dick on his own time isn’t any of our concern.”

“The hell if it isn’t. We told him the rules from the beginning. And he said he was cool with them.”

“No,
you
told him the rules. Porsha and I went along with them.”

“Oh, and you don’t now?”

“I didn’t say that. But what I am saying is that maybe Emerson changed his mind.”

I twist my lips. “Then his ass should have made sure we got the memo.”

“Listen, girlfriend, take down all that stank in your tone. If he’s dismissed, he’s dismissed. No biggie. All I’m saying is maybe he needed more than pussy, more than having his dick sucked and ass licked; more than what we were willing to give him. I mean, every man isn’t only about getting his freak on with a bunch of women. Some men really want only one woman to be his freak. Not two and three. Maybe we were substitutes until he found what he was really looking for.”

“Mmmph. Maybe we were. Anyway, enough talk about him. He’s old news. What do you think about Royce becoming a regular?”

“Uhhhhhh, let me see. Huge dick, gaping pussy...uh, no thanks! He had
too
much dick for me. But if you and Porsha want him, then have at it. I’ll watch from the sidelines.”

I suck my teeth, laughing. “Hooker, please. Not the way you were riding down on it. You handled that shit like a real pro. Then your greedy ass didn’t wanna get up off of it, or did you forget that part?”

The thought of that night with Royce causes my clit to twitch. That young motherfucker tore our pussies up; gave us two rounds of dick, then was grabbing at his dick for a third go ’round. We had to soak for almost two days. I press my legs together, pinching back the memory.

After we finished fucking Royce that night, he explained how he can typically nut three or four times back to back, and that the first two nuts are usually small amounts of cum. Then he had the nerve to laugh and say he should have warned us that the third or fourth nut is a gusher. I wanted to say, “Uh, nigga, you think?”

She laughs with me. “Look who’s talking. You were trying to hog the dick more than Porsha and me. Shit, I’ll admit. That dick was good. And his ass knew how to serve it.”

“Mmmph, yes he did. And that’s exactly why I think we should add him to our list of fuck buddies.”

“Girl, please. Your nasty ass just wants some more of that thick cream up on your face.” She laughs. “You should have seen your face when he hosed you down. Ohmygod. It was priceless. And can you imagine if he would have shot all that cum into Porsha’s mouth? She would have chocked to death.”

I join in her laughter. “Or die trying to swallow it all.”

“I can see it now all over the news. ‘Local freak found with her throat sealed shut by a heavy white, cream-like substance overflowing out of her mouth. Cause of death: a nut overdose.’ And let’s not even get on you. ‘Authorities say there was a second freak found blind at the scene. No further information is available at this time.’”

“Girl, you know you ain’t got no damn sense, right? But, I’ll say this. My face glowed for two days afterwards.”

She keeps laughing. “Yeah, you were glowing alright. Like one big ass cream puff. A mess, I tell you.”

I chuckle. “Well, I’d love to fuck him again. And I know Porsha’s game.”

“Hmmph, well if we’re gonna have him around for awhile, then I’d suggest we each invest in a pair of goggles and don our swim caps ’cause there’s no way I want him gushing his nut all up in
my face, trying to blind me. Glowing skin or not, no thank you.”

I laugh. “Girl, I can’t lie. He shocked the shit out of me. I was totally caught off-guard. When I saw him drip that little bit of cream out for Porsha, then that little dab of a nut on your face, I figured he’d be serving me the same shit.”

Paris is laughing hysterical. “He had your face smothered in nut. Whew, I am so glad that wasn’t me. If he’s gonna be a regular, I know to be first in line.”

“Hahaha, well, you go right ahead. I’m quite alright being last.”

“I bet you are.”

“So are you down or not?

“Down with what?” she asks.

I shake my head, sighing. Paris can sometimes come off being so damn ditsy. “Uh, earth to Paris, down with Royce. Geesh, keep up with the conversation.”

She laughs. “Persia, kiss my ass, okay? How about you keep up with the conversation. I already told you I’m not interested in letting him stretch my pussy out. But if you and Porsha want to do him, then fuck and be merry. I’ll watch.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. The next time he’s lying on his back with his dick rock-hard, let’s see how long it takes before your pussy is begging to be
stretched
.”

“Yeah, we’ll see. Won’t we?” She and I go back and forth reminiscing over our night with Royce a few minutes more, then disconnect.

The rest of the morning I update the boutique’s website, go through emails, reply to Facebook messages, and return phone calls to potential clients. Running my own web design company for the last three years has been not only very lucrative, it’s also been rewarding. Though my bachelor’s degree is in marketing, my love is now in graphic design. And I owe it to Paris.

Designing the website for Paradise Boutique was the start of me realizing where my true talents lie. After all the rave reviews she had gotten about the design of her website and the numerous email requests for design quotes I’d gotten, I knew then I had found my calling. And from that came the birth of Sleek Media Designs where I provide premier web design and development, e-commerce, and Internet marketing solutions.

I get up from desk, walking over to the window. I see Porsha pulling up in the driveway. She parks her convertible 650i behind my Jag, then gets out. For some reason, my phone conversation with Emerson pops in my head.
Mmmph, I’ma make sure Paris and Porsha know to delete his number, too. Talking about he ain’t feeling me. Nigga, please!

Paris
CHAPTER THIRTEEN

A
s I’m driving down Bloomfield Avenue, heading to Union to meet my mother for lunch at the HUCK Finn diner, I find myself thinking about my phone conversation with Persia the other day and her attitude toward our mother. The last thing I want is to be sucked into Persia’s contempt for her. To distract myself, I slide Marsha Ambrosius’
Late Nights, Early Mornings
album into the CD player. I press the CD changer until I get to track 6. When “Lose Myself” starts playing, I sing along, turning off J.F. Kennedy Drive onto the Garden State Parkway. I bear off exit 140, pay the toll and head down Morris Avenue. I spot the diner on the right side, turning on my signal to turn into the parking lot.

Once I find a parking spot and park, I take off my Versace shades, flipping down my visor. I slide open the mirror, making sure my hair is still in place. I run my fingers through my curls, deciding to pin it up. I rummage through my bag, pulling out a crystal encrusted hairpin, then flip my hair up into a twist ponytail. I slide my shades back over my eyes, then step out of my car, hoping my mother and I can get through our meal without incident.

She’s already seated when I walk through the door. Lips pursed, her face tight, she glances at her watch the minute she sees me. I
sigh. “Hello, Mother,” I say, greeting her with a forced smile as I lean in and kiss her on the cheek.

“Fashionably late as usual,” she starts in. “But if I were your father, you would have been here way before me. I don’t know why you girls treat me so indifferently.”

I give her an incredulous look. “Really, Mom? Are you serious? I’m five minutes late. Geesh. I haven’t even sat down good and you’re already picking. Can we, for once, spend the day without you starting up?” I hear Persia’s voice in my head.
That woman’s unbearable
. “All I want to do is enjoy a nice peaceful lunch with you. Do you think you can handle that without ruining it?”