Memphis Black

by Mj Fields

I feel her walls contract and squeeze me.

  “Come for me, Tales. Come for me now and then do it again.”

  We rock, we sway, we stop, we kiss, and then we start all over again.

  “I don’t ever want out. I’m in so deep, I don’t ever want out.”

  Gently, she pushes me so I roll to my back, and she follows, my dick never leaving her. I have one hand behind me, resting on a pillow, and the other spreading her so I can see her tight, little pussy milking my cock.

  I run my thumb between her folds and press her little, pink clit. She whimpers, so I do it again and again. Each time, she rides me harder and faster until she is finally exhausted. Then she leans down, and I cup her perfect little B cups and bounce her up and down. I pinch her nipple, and she grips my hand with both of hers, holding on as she falls apart on top of me.

  “Can’t hold back when you’re riding me like that, Tales,” I warn her. “I’m gonna come, Tales.”

  “Me, too,” she pants. “Oh, God, again.”

  My cock twitches, and I grunt as the force of my orgasm sends aftershocks through her. “Fuck. Oh, yeah, fuck!”

  I slowly bring her down onto me. She lies there, head to chest, bodies moist with sweat, and panting like we just ran a 5K.

  “Best I ever had, Tales.” If I had a gold star to give her I would.

  “You, too,” she pants.

  After a few minutes, she tries to sit up, but I hold her down.

  “No.”

  “No?”

  “No, just stay right like that,” I don’t want her to leave.

  “Okay.”

  ***

  I wake up to pain and an empty bed. She wore my ass out, and I liked it. She gave me the pill Mom left on my nightstand after round two. Either she was too exhausted to deal with me or she knew I was in pain before I did. Either way, I had Tallia Annabelle Priest for two rounds, the second even better than the first. And right now, I am waiting for round three. Maybe the boys will take Mom and Madison out on the boat again.

  I grab my phone and shoot her a text.

  Good morning, sweet cheeks. When can you come back in here? I miss your ass already.

  Then I put a flower emoji and hit send.

  I hear a phone sound off, sit up, and look across the bed. Her phone is on my nightstand.

  I laugh because I now have even more confirmation that I indeed fucked her brains out last night.

  I get up and decide to take a shower, secretly hoping she comes in to get her phone and decides to join me.

  After the disappointing shower, I walk out into the great room where Mom is sitting on the couch.

  “No, I don’t want to discuss it. The kids know, Dale. I won’t pretend anymore, okay?” I hear him yelling and want to tear his head off, but Mom is being so strong. “Well, I’m pretty sure our son and Tally have something going on.” His voice is loud again; however, I can’t hear a damn thing he’s saying. “Really, Dale? Is that all you care about, you self-centered, self-indulgent, prick? You know what? Screw you. You go right ahead and live whatever way you want. I’ll continue taking care of the two people who matter the most to me.” I hear him cut her off. “I’m done lying for you. You made your bed; now lie in it.” She hangs up, then pulls her knees up and hugs them as she cries softly into them.

  “Mom?” She jumps at my voice and looks up, startled. “You okay?”

  “Sorry you had to hear that.”

  “No, I’m sorry you’re going through this.” I sit next to her on her right and wrap my arm around her, hugging her. “Fuck him. He never believed in me, anyway. I will take care of all of us, you understand?”

  “I’m your mom; it’s my job to take care of—”

  “You take care of you. I’ve got the rest. Things are changing. I’ve got us now.”

  We sit for a while, and as much as I want to tear Dad’s head the fuck off for doing this to her, I want more to become the man she raised. And she didn’t raise a fucking piece of shit. She raised me.

  “Morning,” Madison says as she walks out and looks around.

  “I’m gonna have breakfast delivered.” I grab the phone from my pocket and dial the staff number. “Morning, sunshine,” I greet over the phone. “How about breakfast for seven? Starving—”

  “Six,” Madison whispers.

  “Yes, seven.” I look at Mads, wondering how the hell she graduated when she can’t add for shit.

  “Tally left this morning, so six,” she says, rubbing her eyes.

  “Ha, ha. Very—”

  “She did,” Mom whispers. “She didn’t tell you?”

  “Six,” I say with more of a bite than intended. “Yes, I’m sure.”

  I hang up and try to take slow breaths, count some fucking stars, look off into the distance, anything that will calm me down, but I am pissed.

  “Are you pissed?” Madison looks a bit shocked.

  I shake my head. “Just think it’s odd she didn’t say goodbye.”

  Mads yawns. “She didn’t want to wake you.”

  “She left her phone,” I say, knowing it comes off pissy.

  “You also know how she hates to feel like a charity case.”

  “Why the hell would she feel like a charity case? And is she that fucking stupid that she’d travel without a fucking phone? She’s a fucking girl, by herself, no phone and—”

  “She grabbed one of those pre-pays on the way. Chill out.”

  Chill out? Are you fucking kidding me? Chill out?

  This is what devastation feels like; this is how Tally makes me feel and how I feel for her. This is how you’re supposed to feel, and those other women meant nothing.

  How am I going to be better than my dad and get Tally to understand?

  Fuck, she better not have used me. Would Tally do that shit? Why the fuck would I question it, she’s not here now. She didn’t even say goodbye for fuck sake.

  “I need a pill.” I need the shit in my head to go away.

  “You need to eat something first,” my mother scolds.

  “Right. Fine. And when is my doctor’s appointment? ’Cause I also need to get back to work. I have a tour to prepare for.”

  A week after I returned was the first time I heard from Memphis. He told me he was on his way home, and we needed to chat. I told him we didn’t, and he needed to shine. I threw my phone away the next day and got a new one. No, I couldn’t afford it, but it wasn’t an indulgence, either; it was a necessity.

  Necessities should also be categorized. Although I needed new ballet slippers because mine were so terribly worn that my feet ached, I needed a thirty dollar pre-pay more. The soul’s health was much more important than the feet’s. Feet don’t take as long to heal.

  A week after his first call, he showed up at the old apartment. He was angry, so angry at me, and I tried so hard to make him understand that I left for him. I wanted him to focus on his career, but he didn’t buy it and demanded an explanation. When I wouldn’t give him that, he wanted, he took something else—my lips.

  I have decided lips are even more intimate than a vagina. His kiss was impossible to pull away from, so I didn’t. He did, and then he told me when I came to my eff’ing senses to call him, because he hadn’t changed his fucking number.

  I smiled and hugged him. “Soar, Memphis,” I whispered, then turned and walked into the apartment, leaving him in the hall.

  He banged on the door for a good ten minutes, and I fell to my knees and cried.

  Crying is soul cleansing. Well, ugly crying like I did is soul and sinus cleansing, though not something anyone should ever do in front of another human being they love or want to return your love.

  A week later, he called my new number from Madison’s phone.

  “Tell me what the fuck I did. You owe me that much.”

  My response: “I owe you even more than I can ever give you, Memphis. Forget about me. Move on knowing I will always have a little girl crush on the boy next door. Soar, Memphis.”

 
Apparently, that made him angry. He tried to call back several times, and he left messages, a lot of them. Each one made me cry, each breaking my spirit, and each making me realize that Karma really is a bitch.

  A day later, I am walking around the corner to my apartment, and he is leaning against the brick wall.

  I force sunshine. I smile. I dig down deep and do what I was raised to do: be polite, be kind, and be a good girl.

  “My hand is healing.” He pushes off the wall. “I can use it now.”

  “I knew it would. That’s a God-given talent you have.” I smile, though the threat of tears is burning my chest and moving up my throat.

  “You aren’t talking to Madison anymore, either?” he says, as his eyes rake my body from head to toe.

  I swallow down my tears and give him more sunshine. “Just been busy.”

  He looks in my eyes. “What the hell happened? For the life of me, I can’t figure it out. Did you not come to my bed, strip naked, and fucking climb me, basically begging for my cock? Tell me, what the fuck did I do?” He beats his left hand against his chest, and I see the pain it causes him. He yells again, “Tell me, goddamn you!”

  He draws his fist back as if he’s going to strike the brick wall, and I yell, “No!” Then I grab it and cry.

  “Tales, come the fuck on. Talk to me.”

  I strangle the sob and shake my head, releasing his hand. That’s when he grabs my face and pulls it to his.

  “Talk. To. Me.”

  When I close my eyes, he grabs me by the ass and lifts me, walking us to the door of my apartment building. “Your mom home?”

  “No.”

  “Apartment number?”

  “No.”

  “Fine, then right here.” He pushes me back against the wall under the stairwell, pulls a condom out of his pocket, and tears it open with his teeth. “You fucked anyone else?”

  “No,” I cry. “No, I haven’t.”

  “You gonna tell me no?” he asks as he unzips his jeans and sheaths himself. “Tales, say the word no, or I am gonna give you something I know you want. I can fucking smell your desire. I can see it lighting up in Emerald City. You know who the fuck I am?”

  “Memphis,” I answer as my head drops to his shoulder while he rips my panties and pushes, not one, but two fingers inside me.

  I cry out as his fingers move and twist swiftly in and out, feeling the burn immediately.

  “No. I’m the fucking Wizard of Oz, Tales.” He rubs himself against my wet flesh, then pushes in. “The wizard controls Emerald City, you feel me?”

  When he shoves inside of me again, I immediately feel an orgasm’s tug.

  “God, yes.” I bite his shoulder as he rams himself in and out of me over and over as I tremble, shake, and contract everywhere.

  He doesn’t stop; he fucks me hard and unforgiving as he sucks on my neck and bites it harder than ever before.

  “You.” He rams into me again. “Don’t.” And again. “Get.” And again. “Two.” And again. “Hours.” And again. “Of my cock.” And Again. “Until I know.” And Again. “Why you’re doing this!” He growls right before he comes apart.

  His dick twitches inside of me as he comes. I feel each burst, absorb each thrust, take it because I want him so badly.

  As he sets me on my feet and leans in, I am shaking and breathless.

  I lean up to kiss him, but he pulls back.

  “You don’t get my mouth again, Tales. Yours is for either sucking my cock or answering my questions.” He pulls the condom off, takes my hand, and drops the used rubber into it. “Get on the damn pill. I’m sick of using these fucking things.” He pushes his thick, semi erect dick inside his black jeans and walks away.

  On shaking, post orgasm legs, still quaking inside, I walk down the hall and toss the used condom in the trash, walk up three flights of stairs, trip into my apartment, and then fall onto my bed and cry myself to sleep.

  ***

  A month later, I walk out of the dance studio and onto Broadway. If I hurry, I’ll catch the early train back to Hoboken and get home to soak my feet.

  I am exhausted. Since my return a month ago, I picked up two classes a day at Classic’s Dance Studio. Six days a week before and after, I dance with my tour crew, and we practice anywhere from five to seven hours, five, sometimes six, days a week.

  Mom and I have a two bedroom that I love. She was against it at first, because it was more than her social security check from dad’s death every month, and she felt it was indulgent. I told her a moderate indulgence was acceptable.

  Everything should be in moderation, even indulgences. Anything else is either gluttonous and will fill you until you burst or starves the soul and kills you. That’s my new way of looking at life and also the only reason I can still look in the mirror.

  When I round the corner, I see Madison. She looks like she wants to smile, like she’s ready to burst. Her long, straight, black hair is piled high on her head, and her eyes are covered with some ultra-chic sunglasses that are too big for her face but look amazing, regardless.

  I stop in front of her and give her sunshine, and then I give her rain.

  She reaches out and pulls me tight. “I am so mad at you right now, Tales. You’re breaking his heart.”

  “I just can’t be with him. I just want him to do his thing and become who he is meant to be.”

  “And what about you?” She looks around. “Is this who you are meant to be? Where you are meant to end up? Fuck, Tales, from Julliard to …”

  “Broadway.” I shrug. “I really like teaching. I’m content.” I wipe the tears from my face. “What about you?”

  “I’m not ready to go back to school. I think I’m going to take a year off, maybe do some online stuff. I just want to be with my mom right now. You know how it is.” She points to the building. “You like it here?”

  I nod because, if I tell her in words, it’ll feel more like a lie than it is.

  “Tales.” She looks dead serious. “You have to talk to him. He’s doing some really fucked up things lately.” She laughs nervously.

  “Like …?” She shakes her head. “Not drugs, right? He’s not—” I can’t even ask if he’s addicted.

  “Well, he really likes his pain pills, and he actually fell asleep during recording last month.”

  “When last month?” I wonder if it was before or after our encounter.

  She smirks and shakes her head. “The stairwell day.” I gasp. “Tales, he isn’t really quiet about the way he feels. He’s also adamant that he’s gonna wait you out.”

  “Wait me out?” He hasn’t let go. Immediately, I feel happy, but I shouldn’t. And, oh, my, goodness, he told her!

  She looks at me, not answering. After a few minutes, she sighs.

  “Look, come have dinner with me.”

  “My mom …” I start.

  “Don’t give me that shit. It’s Wednesday; she’s at a woman’s church thing, isn’t she?”

  “Madison, it really is best if we just—”

  “I know, okay? I fucking know, and I’m sorry, but shit happens, and—”

  “What do you know?”

  “About your dad. About my dad. It wasn’t a woman in his bed at that hotel, Tales. I didn’t see his face, but fuck … Do I even need to keep going? I mean, it’s really not something a girl wants to remember.”

  “You knew, and you didn’t tell me!” I yell at her. She looks stunned.

  “You didn’t tell me, either. It’s really not a fucking conversation you ever expect to have with anyone, let alone your best friend whose father is a fucking minister and apparently a bottom—” I cover her mouth with my hand and scowl.

  “Shut your face,” I hiss at her.

  She starts laughing and hugs me. “Oh, Tales. To think, we could have been step—”

  “You really have to be quiet. Imagine the scandal. Imagine what they would say about Memphis.”

  “Oh, my God, that’s why you won’t admit you’re in l
ove with him. That’s why you’re pushing him away. Tales, that’s so gallant of you, but you’re the chick. Let the one with the dick figure that out.”

  It feels good that someone else knows, but it shouldn’t. It should feel good that it is Mads and not a random stranger, but it doesn’t. It feels awful that Memphis might have to face this, but if I open my mouth he will…He will hate me.

  “Does your mom know?”

  “Not sure. You’re the only person I’ve talked to. Does yours?”

  “No, absolutely not. I think she would die.”

  “Or join a cult,” Mads says, smiling sadly.

  “Or that.” I smile back in the exact same way.

  “Come to dinner with me?”

  I nod. “I would really, really like that.”

  “Me, too. I’ve missed you.”

  “I’ve missed you, too.” I just didn’t think I should be allowed to feel that way after keeping the secret from her, but she did the same. What a mess. What a complete and total mess.

  “I’ve missed you more than my brother has.”

  “I’ve heard from him more,” I joke

  “I don’t swing that way, so back off.” She laughs as she jumps in her little, red Beemer.

  I get in the other side and close the door. “New ride?”

  “Father is feeling guilty.”

  “Well, guilt looks good on him,” I attempt to joke.

  “Your father didn’t,” she throws back at me, and I fall into a laughing fit. Both of us do. “Hashtag: white girl problems.”

  “Oh, wow, we’re like the Kardashians.”

  “Oh, fuck no, we aren’t! Hell to the no. But Brody Jenner … Damn, I would like to cry on that shoulder. You know, bond over a little dysfunction and then get all dysfunctional in his sound booth. He could spin a record. I could spin on him.”

  “You gotta keep it a secret for Memphis.” I state the obvious.

  “You love him, Tales.” And so does she.

  “I think I do.” That’s another lie. I know I do. Without a doubt, I know I do.

  “It wasn’t a question. You love him, Tales.”

  I shake my head. “I don’t want to. I really, really don’t want to.”