Zane's Busy Bodies: Chocolate Flava 4 (16 page)

Sadly, during that time, he had also discovered his fiancée cheating on him with another man. My friend told me that the breakup had devastated him more than the loss of his legs. He decided to return to college and immersed himself in his studies. He excelled in college and earned a masters in fine arts. Presently, he was working full-time as an art teacher and artist. He occasionally worked as a photographer for the hip-hop magazine.

I listened to her information and critical judgment of Darrin, but despite her warning, I decided to contact him.

I waited until Friday of that same week to call. I was stunned that he remembered me since there were so many girls at the shoot. He assumed that I needed him for model work. I needed him, but not in the way that he imagined. I told him that I never had the opportunity to thank him for saving me from an embarrassing situation. After all, he did not have to intervene when he did. I offered to cook him dinner that night. He quickly declined at first, but I insisted and, with some persuasion, he eventually gave in.

He arrived at my house a few minutes early, almost as if it were intentional so he could also depart early. I noticed that he was wearing loose-fitting denim jeans and a white tee. His eyes looked me over as a familiar smile formed on his face. I was sporting black stilettos, skinny dark denim jeans, and a green shirt that enhanced my bosom. I had made sure that my clothes would enhance my curves. I escorted him in and pointed in the direction of the dining room. Once inside, Darrin complimented my décor decisions.

He followed me into the dining room. The prepared food, a miniature feast with extra servings, was already on the table, allowing it to cool.

“Everything looks delicious. Can I help myself?” he asked.

“Yes, pick your seat, sit down, and dig in. I hope everything is prepared to your liking.”

He grabbed a plate and quickly loaded it with a large helping of everything on the table. Then he sat down in the nearest chair.

“It all smells so good and tastes wonderful.”

“Good . . . I didn’t know what you might like to eat so I cooked a variety of foods. That’s why there’s so much of it.”

“Well, you’re definitely a great cook,” he complimented me.

He beamed as he loaded his plate with more food. I smiled as I loaded a plate and then I took a seat across from him. Before I took a bite, I watched his lips take a mouthful of food. He didn’t realize how much it turned me on.

•  •  •

I cooked him dinner every Friday and Sunday for the next four weeks. The more time we met and talked, the more attracted we became to each other. I found out that we had a lot in common, like a taste for the same foods. I also discovered that we had similar pet peeves. We both enjoyed watching the same sports. We admired the same athletes. We each told a few confessions. One time, he confessed that he enjoyed painting more than photography. I confessed that I enjoyed eating fast food more than gourmet cuisine. Each time we met, we seemed to hit it off even more. I hoped that it was only a matter of time before we took it to the next level. The last time we had hooked up, I noticed some standoffish behavior. When he left that Sunday, I sensed that our meetings were in danger of being nonexistent. I had asked him if he sketched nudes. At first, he didn’t reply but then admitted
to drawing his ex-fiancée in the nude. The memories seemed to sadden him, almost ruining the evening. He smiled his sweet-sad smile before finishing his meal. I noticed that he didn’t decline to draw me nude.

It was obvious that he was attracted to me in every way possible. But it was also apparent that he feared becoming too involved. He didn’t trust all too well because of his past relationship. I was determined to have him in my life, and in my bed. I was convinced that we were made for each other. I had come too far to let him leave. I made up my mind to fight for him.

On Friday of the fifth week, I decided to make a move. Darrin arrived on time. Dinner consisted of cheese pizza and beer. He let me feed him slices of pizza. After dinner, I asked him to join me in the basement for dessert.

I left the dining room to put on a silky red robe before returning. This time I insisted that Darrin follow me to the basement. He followed me down the steps to a scene created specifically for him. I had persuaded my antiquarian friend to locate a vintage couch for me. She located a beautiful one, and bought a red crushed velvet slipcover that looked like something Freud would have utilized. In front of the couch was a table with a large porcelain bowl of fruit near a wine bottle with two glasses. There was a tablet with a pencil on the table. I poured him some wine and handed him the glass along with the tablet and pencil. He took them both and grinned.

I discarded my robe, allowing it to plunge to the floor. I wanted him to appreciate my breasts and beautiful curves. I sauntered slowly over to the piece of antique furniture and then bent over it slowly so he could gaze at my pink pussy before I sat down.

I told him to draw me and I watched as he drained the glass of
wine in two gulps. I imagined that it had been awhile since he’d had any sex, so I was determined to ignite his flame.

It seemed like he was sketching me faster than I had expected. I got up to see the drawing and was impressed by his talents. I asked him if I could draw him nude. He laughed but I insisted until he slowly removed his clothes.

I was pleasantly surprised at the length of his deliciously dark dick. The sight of it drenched my pussy and I couldn’t wait any longer. He sat down on the couch in the same spot. I walked over to him seductively, my breasts moving with each step, and sat beside him.

I kissed his lips and ran my fingers through his hair. Then I kissed him again. He gazed at me with a stunned look before he returned the kiss.

I quickly clutched his dick. Before he could protest, I placed him in my mouth and sucked on him for dear life. I continued to suck while he twisted above my head. I watched his stomach move and he seemed slowly to lose control. I sucked harder, circling his dick with my tongue. I pulled it out and licked on his balls in an upward motion like one would do an ice cream cone, before returning his dick to my mouth. I felt the head of his dick swell and realized that he was about to cum.

I sat on the couch and spread my legs wide for him. He grabbed them as he got on his knees and then plunged three fingers into my wet pussy. He slipped his warm mouth over my clit. He sucked and finger fucked me until I started shaking. After a while, he removed his fingers and started licking the juices from my pussy. He licked my pussy and sucked on my clit once again. Slurping sounds filled the room. I cried out and moaned as loud as I could. He sat on the couch beside me and sucked both of my hard nipples. He sucked and licked them while rubbing my clit.

“Fuck my pussy; fuck my pussy now.”

“Damn, you’re soaking wet.”

I turned around, facing the wall behind the couch with my ass in the air. He licked my soaking wet walls again before he entered my pussy. This time around, sloppy wet sounds filled the basement. I moaned and my pulse quickened as his hard dick moved in and out of me. My body started shaking as he fucked me. I insisted that he fuck deeper inside my pussy and he did, working my entire body. He had to grip my breasts to steady his footing.

“I can’t take any more!” I shouted.

I screamed as loud as I could as I climaxed and then squirted everywhere. He pulled out at the same time, ejaculated, and then dropped to his knees and licked the juices off my pussy. I turned around on the couch to face him.

Afterward, we both had a glass of wine while sitting on the couch. We were both exhausted. We talked a little and he confessed that he still desired for me to draw him in the nude. He also opened up about how lonely he had been. We agreed to see each other more often. That day was the beginning of a beautiful relationship. We are perfect for each other. We are exactly what we need in each other’s lives.

Gemini Blaque

I love everything about clubbin’. From the moment I step out of my Infiniti QX56, sashaying through the parking lot on my six-inch stilettos, rocking my hips back and forth to the rhythm of the bass that rises from the asphalt as I make way toward the door to enter VIP; until the time I roll out a little tipsy, still holding my own, flipping niggas to the left as they make their pathetic last attempts to get at me, I feel like I’m in heaven. You know that song by Ludacris? Yeah, he wrote that about me, ’cause this chick right here is bad, and yes, I’m a little hood, and you better believe I do shit that any average chick wish she could; all the while doing it up champagne-style with my two besties.

When my girls and I walk up into the hot spot on any particular night, it’s like we’re on the red carpet. All eyes are on us. Tonight, we’re at Madame Montage’s downtown. My ex, Shay, is working security and tipped me off that some celebrities are supposed to saunter in a little later. She wouldn’t say who; she just said roll through. That place usually isn’t for me, but I said fuck it, called my girls, smoked some kush, and kicked back a double shot of Hennessy and let it ride.

Buzz Buzz “Tri-na calling, Tri-na calling,”
the automated lady on my phone announces. Trina and Diamond pulled up just in time to hit the second blunt I had finished rolling. She must be
driving her girlfriend’s Charger ’cause I can hear the rev of the engine as well as the bass all the way on the fourth floor of my apartment building. Sure enough, I spy the slick, black and red two-toned, chromed-out Dodge Charger on twenty-fours idling in my complex’s parking lot. I can also see the illuminating glow of the two screens in the headrest and one in the dash, looping porn in an endless eyeful of tits, ass, pussy, and straps.

I shake my head and lick my lips. Every time we ride in this car, I end up having some crazy-ass sexcapade. I guess it’s the addition of the neverending porn on top of my inebriated state that leads me to these crazy adventures, or it could be the type of women I attract when I ride in it. I really don’t know what it is, but whatever the case, tonight I’m ready for it.

My girls are looking on point, as usual. Trina is looking like some damn cayenne pepper in the driver’s seat and just as hot in them red booty shorts and tube top. I always like the way red looks against her high-yellow complexion, like it is vibrating against her skin. Diamond has on a sexy navy halter dress that contrasts beautifully against her flawless redbone complexion. Since her name is Diamond, she feels like she always has to have some bling on, so of course she’s rocking her white gold bangles with the infinity diamonds, two-carat diamond earrings, and her platinum anklet that rests right above her silver Manolo Blahniks.

This bitch must have went to Mr. Andre’s without me. Her strawberry blond sew-in is on point and she’s got a fresh manicure. It’s cool, I’m feeling too good right now to care. I’ll get in that ass tomorrow, though. Plus, I’m looking like an eagle myself, as fly as I am. I’m white hot tonight, literally. I swung by this little boutique downtown a couple of days ago and picked up a white strapless dress. I’ve been waiting to rock this mug since
the moment I laid eyes on it and there was no better night than tonight. I feel like white lightning in this little number. Against my deep ebony skin, the dress looks like a star brightening up the night. Even though that trick went to Mr. Andre’s without me, my mani/pedi is still on point and my butters are whipped into a perfect jet-black bob. I must be high as hell already ’cause I look at all of us together and start to crack up. They look at me as if I’m crazy and all I can say is we look like the sexiest American flag I’ve ever seen in our red, white, and blue. Trina shakes her head and slams on the gas.

As we ride toward downtown, I catch a glimpse of the Magnificent Mile. As many times as I’ve seen it, the Chicago skyline still takes my breath away and I feel at home. I moved to Louisiana after high school to go to Grambling, where I majored in computer engineering. I had a really good internship at this computer company, but after a year, I chose to transfer back to Chicago. Even though I hate being cold, this is my home and I can’t see myself being away too long.

I sit back and listen to Diamond and Trina talk about stupid stuff and shake my head. I swear, for these two chicks to be college educated, they talk about the dumbest shit! Usually, I’d start banging on them hoes, but my mind is elsewhere tonight. I haven’t had sex in months, unless you count B.O.B. Yeah, it does the trick, but I can only turn myself on so much. Ever since Shay and I called it quits, trying to find some decent sex has been a hassle. Even though she can be irritating, Shay could lay it down something fierce in the bedroom.

As we pull up, the searchlights are beaming, the velvet ropes are up, and security is posted deep. I guess Shay wasn’t lying when she said it was going to be popping tonight. The crowd is super thick. We pull up to the front so Trina can give the car
to the valet. I see Shay eyeing me as we walk up to the door. Any other night, this would irritate the hell out of me; tonight, it doesn’t even matter. From the looks of things, she’ll be busy all night and won’t have time to run up behind me. I have to smile, though; watching her posted up in front of the door in all black with her arms crossed and her biceps flexing I-too-damn-cute. Even though her arms are crossed, I can still see the strain of her breasts against her shirt. I don’t care whether you’re a stud, femme, andro, whatever, I’m a titty freak and love to see a beautiful pair. You better believe Shay had some luscious boobies! Her braids are fresh as well and flow down her back like waterfalls. I can see the edge of her black stallion tattoo peeking out under her sleeve, and I want to lick it clean off.

I peek down at the bunny tattoo on my ankle and smile ’cause we got our tats at the same time. Even though we’re broken up, we’ll always have a connection. See, we’re both in LGBT Greek-lettered organizations. Trina, Diamond, and I all are in KAΛ, which is by far the elite sisterhood for professional, feminine lesbians, and Shay is in AΛZ, which caters to aggressive lesbians. Anyway, I met Shay at her probate a couple of years back when the two orgs were the KAΛZ
phamily
. When I heard that they were probating, I figured I’d roll through and rep that pink, black, and pearl. We hit it off and after our first-year anniversary, we decided to go get our tats together as a gesture of our love for each other and for what had brought us together. So, even though the orgs and our relationship split, not to mention the fact that she works my last nerve, I’ll
alwayz
have love for Shay. Man, I got to get it together! This trip down Memory Lane has got my mind buggin’. I’m not about to slip up after all this time.