Zane's Busy Bodies: Chocolate Flava 4 (7 page)

He opened the door casually, as if he had not been waiting for her the last hour.

“Come on in,” he offered, needlessly, as she walked into the dark apartment. Only the streetlights outside glinting through the blinds gave any kind of lighting to the front room.

“No power?” Kamara said, a slight chuckle in her voice.

“It’s on until tomorrow.”

“I see. So this is for me, then?”

He smiled and took her hand, guiding her down the hall into the master bedroom in the back of the apartment. The blinds were parted, angled downward so that they could look out, but no one could look in.

“They never did fix your front door,” Kamara said.

“I guess it doesn’t matter now,” he responded. He had reported the hole in the outer part of his door when he moved into the apartment complex, and the front office had assured him it would be fixed. They never came to fix it, though. At first Grant had started to go down and raise hell, especially since he was the only one in the building paying full price for his rent, but the hole didn’t go all the way through the door and since none of his company seemed to complain about it, he let the issue go. In fact, as time went on, the hole became part of the apartment’s character, a reminder that he had slummed it his last year in college before heading on to Virginia.

“Want anything to drink?” he offered.

“Do you
have
anything to drink in here?”

“Some bottled water left over from when I loaded up the truck.”

“Sure, then.”

As he walked back toward the front of the apartment to the kitchen, he marveled at the fact that Kamara had even come. She was not his girlfriend and would probably never be, now that he was leaving Atlanta. He had run into her the previous day while combing the bookstore for college and Greek paraphernalia to take with him. They had had three classes together over the past two years and had always been cordial, but it wasn’t until they pledged and became fraternity brother and sorority sister that they began to talk more regularly. Even then, he had suppressed his attraction to her because there was already so much hooking up going on between the frats and sorors. Still, he considered her a good friend and had even had her over several times throughout the year, just to hang out and play Xbox with his friends.

As he stood at the refrigerator door, he was thankful that she
had not left him hanging. At least now he would have someone he could talk to so that he wasn’t stuck with only the silence of an empty apartment to keep him company. All of his other friends had already headed out of town, either for the summer break or just to move on to the next thing.

Cracking the refrigerator door, Grant noticed that there was only one bottle of water on the bare shelf. He removed it and carried it back to Kamara.

“You weren’t thirsty?” she asked.

“There was just one bottle.”

“You want some of this one?”

“I’m good.”

“You sure? I don’t have cooties, you know,” she said, turning the bottle sideways in her hand and swiveling it like a bottle of juice.

“Have you noticed that when guys shake bottles, they do it like this,” he said, lifting and lowering his hand in a line just in front of his crotch. “But when women shake a bottle, they twist it like you just did.”

“Really?” she responded. “I have my theories about that.”

“Hey, don’t knock my only hobby.”

They both laughed, and he might have been embarrassed being so mannish with her, except for the fact that sex wasn’t foreign to their conversations. At various points they had had conversations about nearly everything under the sun, sex included. He had just never made a move. Now that he was spending his last night in Atlanta and she had come over to keep him company, the thought crossed his mind that there might be more to their situation after all.

“I guess I should have kept some chairs or something,” he said. “You don’t mind sitting on the floor, do you?”

She shrugged and took a seat on the carpet, her legs crossed, positioning herself directly across from him.

“Got any music to listen to?” she asked between swallows of water.

“Just what’s on my phone.”

Grant pulled his phone from his pocket and began scrolling through his playlists.

“Hey, remember this?” he said, turning up the volume on his phone and tilting the speaker upward for her to hear.

“Oh, shit!” Kamara said, jumping to her feet. She began nodding her head up and down to the beat. “We used to set it out to this track!”

Grant stood up, holding the phone up. “Go ’head, ’Mara. Do it up for all the treys of the world.”

As Nicki Minaj’s “Moment 4 Life” filled the empty room, Kamara flashed her sorority sign and started performing the party stroll that her chapter had designed for the song. Grant nodded his head to the beat as he admired the way her body moved. Seeing her rocking her hips in sync with the song made him smile. He had always thought she was cute, but seeing her now, in motion, and with such focus, made her much more than cute; she was
sexy
.

As the song ended, she reached for the bottle of water and finished it off.

“I love watching you move,” he said, before realizing how loaded his statement must have sounded.

She took her seat on the floor again, screwing the cap back on the empty bottle and setting it in front of her. “Thanks.”

Grant sat down across from her and reached for the bottle. Without thought, he began to spin it in a circle. Kamara laughed.

“What?” he asked.

“Reminds me of that game.”

“Oh,” he said, continuing to spin the clear, hollow bottle. “You must have had your first kiss playing Spin the Bottle.”

“No way. I played that game one time, but there were just too many ugly boys there for me. I was so glad it never landed on me. This one time it came close, like between me and this other girl, and we argued for like ten minutes over who the bottle had landed on. Finally, ol’ girl just said, ‘fuck it,’ and kissed that boy. Couldn’t have been me,” she said, laughing. “You ever play?”

“Nope,” he said. “I used to hear about other people playing it. That and ‘Sleepers’ and all those sixth-grade games.”

“You’ve never been
slept
?” she asked, incredulous.

“I haven’t been anything-ed,” he said, lifting the bottle from the floor and flipping it in his hand repeatedly.

“I feel like it’s my duty to make sure you experience something before you move away and start your life in the ‘real world,’ ” she said, placing air quotes around the last two words.

Looking at the bottle, Grant imagined what it would be like to kiss Kamara. “I have an idea.”

Kamara nodded. “I’m all ears.”

He could feel his stomach begin to tense. If she was down, this would be a wonderful experience, but if she wasn’t, then she’d probably leave or steer the rest of the evening’s conversation into such platonic territory that he might as well just unroll the sleeping bag now and get an early start on the next day.

“We can take this bottle and spin it,” he said.

“Yeah. That’s an original idea,” Kamara offered, her voice tinged with sarcasm.

“No. Here’s the catch: If the bottle lands closer to me, you can tell me where you’d like me to kiss you, and if the bottle lands closer to you, I’ll tell you where I’d like you to kiss me.”

The fact that they had never kissed before seemed like an irrelevant point to Grant. He waited nervously, watching her consider his proposition. The fact that she did not flat-out say, “No,” made him even more nervous.

“Who spins first?” she finally responded.

Grant smiled and sat back down across from Kamara. He handed her the bottle. “You go first.”

She looked at him, a semi-smile resting on her lips, and lowered the bottle to the carpet, spinning it around with a quick flick of her wrist. The bottle spun in a circle very quickly before slowing down and angling just to his right side.

“Okay,” she said. “I want you to kiss me here.” She pointed at a spot toward the back side of her neck.

Grant rose to his knees and leaned toward her. As she turned her head away from him to better expose her neck, he placed his mouth against her soft skin, his tongue dancing in tender swirls along the length of her neck. He listened for a moan—or anything—but Kamara sat silently, allowing him to finish his kiss, before turning her attention back to the bottle. “Your turn,” she said.

Still savoring the taste of her skin, he leaned over and spun the bottle. Again, it landed just to his right.

“This must be my lucky night,” Kamara offered. “I can get you to kiss me anywhere?”

“Sure,” he responded.

“I want you to kiss me here—on my tattoo,” she said, lifting her T-shirt to reveal a small, flower-shaped tattoo on the left side of her right breast, just above the fabric of her bra.

For a moment, Grant stared, taking in her flawless, caramel-complexioned skin. The T-shirt had been loose fitting, but now he could see her full breasts, in all of their glorious splendor,
perky and awaiting his attention. He leaned in slowly, enjoying the view as his body proceeded to close the gap.

His tongue immediately danced upon her skin, tracing the outline of her tattoo as she raked her fingertips lightly across the back of his head. In his eagerness, he gently pulled down her shoulder strap, exposing her nipple. He took it into his mouth, his tongue fluttering along her areola. This time she moaned.

For a moment, he moved back and forth between her breasts, his tongue leaving a faint trace from nipple to nipple. When Kamara’s hand pressed his chest, pushing him back, he had trouble leaving her topless form. He started to ask why she was pushing him away, until he noticed that she was pointing at the bottle lying on the floor off to the side.

“My turn,” she said, as she adjusted herself. Her bra and shirt remained on the floor beside her as she leaned over and spun the bottle again. This time the bottle rotated back toward her as if magnetically drawn to her skin.

A smile spread across Grant’s lips.

“So where do you want me to kiss you?” she asked, her beautiful body illuminated by the mild glow of the streetlights trickling through the bedroom blinds.

He knew where he wanted her to kiss him, but he didn’t want to be too forward. As he hesitated, Kamara crawled over to him and began to unfasten his jeans. Propping himself up with his hands, he lifted himself so that she could remove them. With his eager erection straining at the fabric of his boxers, he watched as she lowered her face to his waistband, tugging at it with her teeth. When she unleashed his manhood into the darkness of the room, he closed his eyes, leaning back. He could feel her envelop the head in her warm, wet mouth, massaging the length of his shaft with her hand. Patiently, she ran her tongue
along the length of his erection. He had not been this hard in a long time, and he wanted only for her to take her time—bottle be damned.

Once he could feel the buzzing glow of an orgasm collecting between his legs, he stopped her. There was only one thing he wanted more than to cum and that was to return the favor.

Pulling himself away from her, he leaned over and kissed her passionately on the lips, rejoicing as her tongue met his. As he placed the palm of his hand along the side of her face, just beneath her flowing hair, he whispered for her to lie down.

Kamara lay down, lifting her hips from the floor so that he could remove her jeans and panties. Even in the darkness, Grant could see that she had trimmed her hair down low. Gently he tugged at her outer lips, allowing the hood to slide gracefully over her pearl. He continued this for a moment, drawing as much excitement to that area as he could, before he lowered his face and allowed himself to taste her. The salty-sweetness of her moist flesh invited him to run his tongue along the length of her vulva and into her vagina, before returning to her clit, careful not to put too much pressure on her sensitivity. As she began to rock herself against his face, he moved with her rhythm, matching her beat for beat.

He could feel her contracting against his chin as her legs tensed. He looked up, hoping to make out her facial expression in the dim light. All he could see was her head lean forward and then tilt back, her face lifted toward the ceiling. As she shook her head, moaning from the sensation, Grant began to massage his erection as it returned to its full glory.

Taking him in her mouth once again, Kamara began to massage his balls with her fingertips. Lifting her head to face him, she asked, “Are you ready for this?”

Grant nodded, his smile bright, even in the darkness. “Hell, yes!”

As he approached her, she lifted one leg high, holding it up near her ear.

“Damn, you’re flexible,” he said, positioning himself over her.

She smiled.

He entered her slowly, savoring every inch of his manhood entering her soaking wet walls. His triceps tightened as he held himself above her, allowing her to rock back and forth into him. As she enveloped and released him, he cursed himself silently for having never made a move on her before tonight.

Slowly, Kamara began to lower her leg onto Grant’s shoulder, lifting her other leg onto his other shoulder. He cupped her soft, round ass in his palms and began to raise and lower her body so that he entered her in repetition.

“You feel so good,” he uttered.

“Say that shit again. This time louder,” she said, surprising him.

“You feel so good!”

“Yeah, baby,” she responded, stretching out her legs. “I want you to hit it from the back, G.”

Not wanting to lose a moment of her warmth massaging him, he lowered one of her legs and grabbed the other, turning her slowly onto her stomach. As she began to work her way to her knees, he ran his hands along her side, gradually resting them on her full hips. As she rocked back into him, he plowed into her until he heard her gasp.

“Fuck me,” she moaned, as he thrust himself into her, his hands gripping her voluptuous ass.

He wanted nothing more than to stay inside her indefinitely, but as sweat trickled down his chest, he wondered how much
longer he could last. He leaned over her, planting kisses along her back, as she rotated her hips in small circles.