Like a Fly on the Wall

by Simone Kelly

  I felt something over me. I pulled back the covers to see if my wishing worked. She was leaning right over me, smiling. I felt her. She was cold. I screamed. I screamed as loud as I could, but still no sound came out. Hicham kept sleeping. No one heard me.

  She was missing her two front teeth and she spoke telepathically. “Oh, come on. Don’t be a spoilsport, you’re no fun!” Her big blue eyes were pleading with me. As frightened as I was, I was happy to see she had a sweet face and chubby cheeks. Not as scary as I was anticipating.

  Somehow, I heard my dad say in my head, “Don’t be scared, be firm. Don’t be scared. She doesn’t want to hurt you.”

  Even though my mouth wasn’t making sounds, I knew she could hear me in her mind. So I shouted firmly out loud, “No! I don’t want to play. I want to sleep. NO! Go away, little girl!” Suddenly she vanished right before my eyes. Her body, which had seemed dense and three-dimensional, became transparent and then a silhouette before disappearing completely.

  My mother charged into the room, her hair sticking up on one side. “What’s wrong? What happened?” She rubbed her eyes.

  Hicham tossed and turned on the twin bed next to me. He was still wrapped up tight in his G.I. Joe flannel sheets. I jumped up and started off whispering, then yelling, “Mommy, there was a little blond girl in here playing with the light!” I pointed to the light switch. “I told her she had to leave, I told her I had to go to sleep.”

  My mother shook her head in disbelief, like she couldn’t believe I woke her up for that foolishness. “Oh God! Go back to bed, Jacques. I told you to stop watching those horror movies.”

  “But, Mommy, I wasn’t dreaming! Why don’t you listen to me?” I yelled. “She was right where you are standing. Right here. She was about this tall.” I motioned with my hands to show she was only a little taller than me. My heart was beating fast as I recapped the story. “She was talking to me and her mouth didn’t move. It didn’t move! I tried to call you, but I couldn’t. I was . . . I was . . .”

  My mom fluffed my hair. She looked at me with sleepy eyes. “Jacques, go to bed, sweetheart, you were having a nightmare, that’s all.”

  After that night, I had to get used to the fact that what I saw, heard, or felt was “a gift” like Mrs. Murtha said, but somehow it seemed to make me invisible. I felt like whatever happened to me was irrelevant. By the time I reached eleven years old, I didn’t see visions as much and I learned to block them for fear of being called crazy. I would draw them, color them, and hide them. After blocking them for so long, I didn’t have any visions for a long time, until my late teens.

  It’s pretty sad that my mother doesn’t support what I do for a living, even though after years of being in denial, she finally admitted to Hicham that I really can see into the future. However, my gift is a curse to her. She wishes I didn’t have the ability, because according to her, the Bible says it’s sorcery. Pitiful. It’s as though she thinks I’m really casting spells like a warlock. All I do is give advice, intuitive advice, which I feel is sent from God. She doesn’t take into consideration how many people’s lives I’ve saved. How many relationships I’ve improved, how many people have improved their health, and how many families I’ve reunited.

  Chapter 9

  Kylie

  Sweat formed on the back of my thighs as they stuck to the leather seat in the eighty-four-degree weather. I sipped a mimosa while watching tourists walk by. They seemed so excited to be on South Beach. They looked like me when I first got here.

  I sat in the lobby of the National Hotel. I heard a velvet voice play over the speakers. Sounded like Sarah Vaughan doing a jazzy remake of “I Feel Pretty.” I bobbed my head to the music as I sipped my drink. I smiled back at the waiter smiling at me and eyeing my crossed legs in an orange-and-white halter sundress. I was wearing my white bikini underneath it and I couldn’t wait to lie on the beach with my new friend.

  “Looking for me?” I heard a man’s voice say. My stomach danced with anticipation. I turned around and was greeted by a charming and confident smile. Chauncey was about six feet, medium build, and his lips . . . oh, God bless him. His lips looked like they could do a lot more than kissing.

  “Damn, you are so beautiful!” he said as I stood up and hugged him.

  “Hey, Chauncey! Thank you.” He squeezed me like a long-lost lover. He was wearing a white tank top, beige short-sleeve shirt, and long beige army shorts to match.

  A thin platinum chain and one diamond earring in his left ear were a nice touch. I smiled and took him all in. His caramel skin, white smile, and almond eyes were tantalizing.

  “You aren’t too shabby yourself, and you smell good! Your photos don’t do you justice.” I squeezed his huge biceps and laughed.

  His voice was deep and smooth—even better in person than on the phone. He talked with a bit of a Southern accent. It was sexy and gentle. He bit his bottom lip. “So, you wanna grab a little something from here and bring it to the beach?” He looked directly in my eyes. I liked that. It felt intense.

  “For sure, I am dying to lie down under an umbrella.”

  “Yeah, let’s get you into that bathing suit quick.” He put his arm around me.

  “See! You starting already Mr. Seven Months? Be easy!” I teased.

  He picked up my beach bag and we walked through the lobby to the beach area.

  “Oh, come on, I can’t tell you nothing. Keep it up and it will be eight months!”

  “Oh God, you think I can’t wait?”

  He shook his head and smiled. I hit him on the shoulder with my purse and we laughed.

  The conversation was easygoing. It was truly as if we’d known each other for years and had simply reunited. We were naughty with our flirting from the second the date started, so there was no denying I would definitely be tested.

  We picked up some chicken Caesar wraps from the poolside bar and headed straight to the beach. The seagulls playfully made their way close to our chairs, begging for scraps. The sky was clear and huge cruise ships sailed forward leaving a wake of white foam behind them. A beautiful day for a first date. Thank God there weren’t any screaming babies nearby. I wasn’t in the mood. There were a couple of sunbathers showing off more than we wanted to see; the cellulite-revealing G-strings and KFC golden-brown skin were a bit much.

  I decided to take the responsibility of making sure he wasn’t harmed by the sun. “Let me put some sunblock on you. You can’t go unprotected.” I smirked.

  “Oh, if you insist, but only if you let me return the favor.”

  “Oh, sure you can. It’s been a while since I had a nice rubdown.”

  “Easy there, tiger.” He laughed. “You are seriously a riot.” I stepped out of my sundress and folded it neatly. I enjoyed how he watched me adjusting my bikini straps and standing over him. “Damn, Kylie. You are gorgeous.”

  I reveled in how his eyes wanted me. I picked up the lotion. “Lie on your stomach,” I commanded. He adjusted the lounge chair to go all the way down and mumbled, “Man, whose idea was this again? This is going to be one hard afternoon for a brother.”

  “Hard afternoon?” I poked him.

  “Exactly, pun intended!” I eased the lotion onto the nape of his neck and deeply kneaded his lower back.

  I started to think that this was a bit too intimate for a first date, but I thought I would have fun with it and see the goods now. I’d rather not be surprised later and have wasted my time.

  “Oh damn . . . you are really good. I mean really, really good. Oh . . .” The ocean waves were strong and the sound of seagulls had a calming effect.

  “A little secret I had in my back pocket.” I leaned in deeper and whispered in his ear, “My mom’s a massage therapist.”

  “Wow, like mother like daughter?”

  I cringed. “Well, not exactly. If I was, we’d already be in the water doing unspeakable things.” I choked on my words.

  “Damn . . . guess your mom’s out there, huh?”

  “
‘Out there’ is an understatement, but I’ve learned to live with it.”

  “Oh dammmmnnn . . . Kylie. Right there.” His mouth was open. Somehow, even in between the sighing, he still managed to continue probing for more intel. “Do you two . . . get along? You . . . and your mom?”

  “Yeah, sure. But I’d rather not talk about my mother anymore. You’re jacking up the massage, Chauncey,” I playfully scolded. “Let’s make today about you and me, okay?”

  “Whatever you want to do, Kylie. You’re the boss.”

  I slapped his butt. “Okay, my turn.” I lay on the chair and rested my face in my hands. I was definitely turned on, but I didn’t have to let him know it. I knew I would be able to control it—at least for today.

  After long sensual massages and collecting some cool seashells, we lay under the umbrella getting to know each other better.

  Chauncey took a sip of his soda. “I’m sorry if I keep staring at you. I feel like a stalker. I just can’t believe they make them like you anymore.”

  “Oh please, stalk away. I am just as bad as you. I’m really happy I’m here, Chauncey.” I smiled. I really could get used to his company. Smart, witty, down to earth and slap-yo-mama sexy! I definitely want to get even closer to him.

  To my surprise, he said softly, “Let’s get in the water, Kylie.”

  I grinned and rose without hesitation. We walked toward the water. He dived in ahead of me and waited. I walked in slowly behind him, and it was warm and inviting, like a soothing bath. He looked like a shark waiting for his prey.

  Everything in the sky began to blur with the clouds. All I saw was him dripping with water. Not the children playing, not the cruise ships, not the sand-joggers. Everything else was fading from my view. All I heard was the joyful cooing of the seagulls. The second I got close enough, he embraced me. His sudden aggressiveness surprised me. His skin on mine, his hands on the small of my back, his face dripping with salt water.

  He said low in my ear, “Kylie, what are you doing to me? I feel like you put a spell on me.”

  We let the waves crash against us and push us even closer together. I felt Chauncey rising in his trunks against my thighs. He looked down and shrugged, embarrassed, like he was about to apologize for being aroused. I put my arms around his neck.

  He said, “I am really digging y—” I silenced him with a kiss, a deep sensual kiss that I had been craving since I saw him. His tongue danced with mine. He sighed as he kissed me. His lips were soft. He was so passionate. His hardness was unreal, and it felt good against me. It took everything in me not to reach down and go deep-sea diving. I leaned into his wet body and let his hands slide to my butt. I leaned in closer, trying to melt into him.

  Fuck. This was torture. I wanted him inside me! How could he stand this if he really hadn’t had it in seven months? I was going on only two months and was losing it. But, of course I was a lady. Of course it was our first date, and we had no condoms. Ewww, not going there!

  He sucked my neck and playfully pecked me, ending our marathon kiss. “Mmmmm. You know we’re in troubled waters right now?” He moaned as he looked down at my wet cleavage and hard nipples shouting for attention.

  “Why so?” I said coyly.

  “You know, because I’m going to be hard for the rest of the night.”

  I laughed. “Now, why should that be a problem? You can always relieve yourself in your room before we continue our date.” I gave the jerk-off motion in the air. “I have some lotion you can borrow if you need it.” I winked.

  “True, true, because even though I know you might try to take advantage of me, I’m not that easy, Kylie.” An old couple floated by on a bright orange raft, smiling at us as we embraced.

  I spoke softer. “Whatever. If I wanted you right now”—I pulled the front of his trunks and playfully slapped the elastic back to his stomach—“you wouldn’t be down?”

  “Nope!”

  “Well, that’s good self-control. Good thing I have some as well, no telling what could become of this innocent date. No telling.” I lifted my eyebrows and smiled ear to ear.

  He shook his head and sighed, like he was feeling the same way I was. We were both full of it. He picked me up and we waded in the water, floating, touching, kissing. Talk about more torture. I was a glutton for punishment.

  If he was telling the truth about being abstinent, when we finally do “go there,” it’s going to be the Fantabulous Fuckfest of the Millennium. Freaking fireworks, cheerleaders, and Broadway dancers doing the chorus line out of the closet. I was so turned on by his touch—no, just from a glance. So, there’s no telling what’s going to happen when he releases that present in his trunks.

  Chemistry and reliability. Chauncey’s got the making of a Big Mac, definitely not a French fry, as True calls her “side” men. What more can a girl ask for? Hell, who needs French fries if he keeps this up?

  We had a nice relaxing afternoon in the sun, hanging in the water and kissing. Lots and lots of kissing. His lips were magical and I couldn’t get enough. They were so soft and he was so passionate. My hair got a little wet, but I didn’t care. I admired how even though we teased each other, he was still a perfect gentleman.

  We went back to his hotel room to shower before going to dinner. He showered first. I didn’t know why I felt so comfortable alone in a stranger’s room. I met him on the Internet, for Christ’s sake! I didn’t snoop around, even though I really wanted to. As I walked around, I observed, in his open carry-on, slacks, khaki pants, jeans, a white shirt, and—wow—condoms. Did he think he was getting some already? Well, at least he came prepared. Gotta respect him for playing it safe.

  On the dresser was facial lotion, toner, and facial scrub. A metro-sexual, are we? He also had a laptop, folder, and a book called The 4-Hour Workweek. So, he was gonna squeeze in work, too? A hard-working brother. I likes, I likes.

  I jumped at the sound of the bathroom door opening. He shouted, “All yours!” I looked at his moist caramel body draped in only a towel around his waist.

  My lady-parts fluttered between my legs. I teased, “Did you clean up in there? I don’t want to slip on anything nasty.”

  “Oh yeah, I had a nice time in there with myself.” He looked down in his towel and pretended to speak to his manhood like it was a pet. “All better? Good, I know you feel better.”

  I laughed loudly. “Wow, I need a shower quick. Why do you keep teasing me?” I laughed and grabbed my bag of clothes.

  “What? Me teasing? Ain’t that the pot calling the kettle black.”

  After my shower, I admired my figure in the mirror and imagined it was his hands instead of mine rubbing me with oils. I started to dress in the bathroom. I was not going to be bold and come out in a towel like he had. We’d never make it to dinner. I had a cute peach sundress that hugged my hips just right and flared at my knees. I had to slick my hair back into an Afro puff since the water had gotten to it. My ’fro had shrunk and wasn’t looking right. Thank God for scrunchies and my Nefertiti’s Secrets leave-in conditioner! I wasn’t trying to look like a hot mess!

  My skin glistened from the coconut body oil I’d rubbed in. I didn’t need a bra, because the dress was a tight strapless that held “my girls” in perfectly. But where the hell were my panties? Unbelievable! I had worn my bathing suit to the hotel but I couldn’t put my sandy bikini bottom on under my dress. I could not believe I’d forgotten my damn thong. It was going to be obvious. Oh, to hell with it. I’d have to keep my legs closed like a lady and hope Madame Butterfly behaved herself and didn’t get too excited by being exposed to the air. At least I had a neat Brazilian wax going for me.

  I reapplied my makeup, dabbed on some perfume, and opened the door. Chauncey was buttoning up his crisp white shirt and staring at me. All I could think of was him pressing up against me in the water. I walked out of the bathroom feeling hotter than when I went in.

  “My, my, you clean up well,” he said, slow and sexy.

  “You’re not s
o bad yourself. You smell yummy.” I walked toward him. He exuded sex and was utterly magnetizing. I fixed his collar. I wanted to be close to him. He had an earthy look, with brown leather sandals and army-green khakis. I looked down at his open zipper and motioned him to zip it up. It felt natural being with him, like we were a couple who had been together for years.

  “Oops.” He smiled. “So, Kylie, you feel like Japanese? I remember you said you loved it.”

  “Yes, there’s a spot two blocks away. We can walk.” He held my hand all the way there and I caught him staring at me, licking his lips. I hadn’t been on a real date in so long. I forgot how good it felt to not just sit on the couch every night. Breeze’s idea of a date was watching Comedy Central all night. Well, that is after fucking my brains out. So, I didn’t complain too much.

  The sexual tension, the excitement, the mystery behind getting to know someone, had my stomach swirling. As we walked on Collins Avenue, girls watched us and men gave Chauncey the head nod of approval. After dinner, we went back to his room, so I could get my bag. We rode the hotel elevator in silence up to the eleventh floor. As the lift came to a stop, the floor-bell rang. Ding! Chauncey faced me, looked directly into my eyes, and asked, “You want to stay a while?”

  Chapter 10

  Jacques

  My mother’s apartment was dark. The energy felt low, cold, and damp. Not a good sign. I put down my backpack and went into the kitchen. She’d left a note taped to the fridge saying she’d gone to church for a meeting and to help prepare for an art show she was hosting. She also said not to eat dinner and to wait for her. I was happy that even though she was obsessed with religion she hadn’t forgotten what a talented artist she is.

  Also on the fridge were a calendar of church events, a magnet of Jesus’s face, a photo of Hicham and me as teens, and a photo of a group of two men and another woman with my mother. They were on Forty-Second Street in front of a Broadway theater. One man had his arm around my mother. I looked closely at the photo. He actually looked like the guy I saw leave the building earlier, but no, couldn’t be, unless he lived in this building, too.