Defining Moments

by Ben Burgess Jr.

  I helped her up.

  “Can I stay at your place? I don’t want to go home to my lonely apartment,” she said.

  I didn’t know where she lived exactly in Harlem, and I wasn’t going to let her take the train or even a cab alone while she was drunk.

  “Sure,”I said.

  We took a cab to my condo. I looped her arm over my shoulder, half dragging, half carrying her inside to my room, and placed her in the center of my huge bed. Becky’s summer dress rose up around her thighs. She sat up, kissed the side of my face, slipped her hands inside my pants, and massaged my dick. I closed my eyes as she stroked me, but came to my senses and stopped her. Becky stood up unsteadily. She swiftly fidgeted with the shoulder straps on her dress and slid her dress off her curvy frame, and it dropped to the floor. Then she quickly stepped out of her black lace panties and unhooked her bra. She stood in front of me completely naked, her eyes showing me her desire.

  “Come on. I want you so bad right now,” she moaned.

  Becky kissed me and slid her tongue deep into my mouth. She tilted her head, leaned back, and lay naked on my bed, rubbing her clit. I was tempted, but I wasn’t going to take advantage of her when she was drunk. I smiled.

  “I want you too, but not tonight. I’m going to sleep on the couch. Get some sleep and I’ll see you in the morning, OK?”

  Becky pouted. “I really like you. Why don’t you want me?”

  I kissed her and slowly eased away. “I want you too, just not like this. Rest up, and I’ll talk to you in the morning.”

  “OK,” she said, sounding disappointed.

  I pulled out some clothes from my dresser, and when I faced Becky again, she was sound asleep.

  I took a cold shower and went to bed wondering what tomorrow morning would bring.

  * * *

  The next morning, I went to the Hamilton deli near my place and bought Becky and me coffee and breakfast sandwiches. I thought about waking her up before I left, but she looked so peaceful sleeping that I decided just to leave her be and bring the food back home.

  When I opened my bedroom door, I saw Becky lying on her back with her forearm across her eyes. I set her breakfast and coffee on the nightstand next to my bed and said, “Good morning.”

  “Ugh, you’re a morning person,” she groaned.

  “Yup. I bought you breakfast and coffee.”

  “Thank you.”

  I handed her the food, and the comforter moved and exposed her bare breasts. I couldn’t help but stare. She noticed and gradually raised her arms to cover up.

  “I’m sorry, Ben. I’m so embarrassed.”

  “Don’t be. It’s fine. There’s nothing wrong with partying hard now and then.”

  “I really like you, Ben, and now you probably think I’m some wild white girl that gets wasted all the time.”

  “I don’t think that. It’s OK.”

  “You promise you’ll still hang out with me?”

  I laughed. “Yes.”

  * * *

  The next three days, Becky and I met at the library to study.

  “I’m never going to get this shit,” she pouted.

  “Yeah, you will, but you gotta focus,” I said.

  “I’m stupid.”

  “Stop saying that. Look, why did you major in journalism and English literature?”

  “I like to write. My dream is to work at a major magazine and have a bestselling novel.”

  “So, what’s stopping you? You have the talent, Becky, but you need the heart and the will to make these things happen. Now, let’s build that together. Come on, focus.”

  At first, I saw our hanging out as just a distraction. Nothing serious, just a meaningless way to not think about Gabby, but I couldn’t lie to myself—I liked Becky. We were both healing from our past, and I felt so comfortable with her. Becky was a lively free spirit, while I was more laid-back. She shared bits and pieces of her past with me and got me to be open with mine too.

  Our friendship changed forever after the first time we were intimate.

  We had finished our study session when I asked her, “Do you want to hang out at my place tonight?”

  “Sure.”

  We stepped inside my condo, and I tried to tidy up quickly, moving the magazines off my sofa and repositioning the pillows on my couch.

  Becky giggled.

  “What are you doing? Your place is ridiculously clean,” she said.

  “I’m sort of a neat freak.”

  “I’m the total opposite.”

  I laughed to myself. We were opposites in a lot of ways, I thought. I leaned forward and picked up the TV remote from my coffee table.

  Becky eased down next to me on the sofa.

  “I thought we could order Chinese and watch something on Netflix.”

  “So, you wanted me to come over to ‘Netflix and chill,’ eh?”

  “You’re making a dark man blush,” I laughed. “As much as I’m attracted to you, I’ll promise to be a gentleman.”

  “You’re attracted to me?”

  “You know I am.”

  “I’m feeling you too.”

  Becky casually edged closer to me. She leaned toward me, her face inches from mine. I stared into her eyes. Our lips grazed against each other’s, and I pulled her close and kissed her.

  I felt my hardness straining in my jeans. Becky noticed and traced the outline of my cock through my pants. We continued to kiss, our hands exploring and roaming over each other’s bodies. I raised her dress and rubbed my hands over her firm ass. Becky broke the embrace of our kiss and asked, “You want to go to your bedroom?”

  “Yup.”

  She held my hand, and we walked to my bedroom. I lightly kissed her neck as I worked my way down to her collarbone. Then I slowly slipped her dress straps off her shoulders and tugged it down until she was only standing in her bra and panties. I unhooked her bra and fondled her soft breasts. Within seconds, she had me undressed. Our hands explored and roamed over each other’s bodies. I rubbed my hands all over her firm ass, giving it a smack.

  Becky pushed me down on the bed. She dropped to her knees, rubbed her hands over my chest, and kissed her way down my stomach. Then she grasped my cock and quickly sucked on the head of my manhood, stroking it with both hands.

  I positioned the head of my dick at her entrance and gently slid inside her moist treasure. Becky’s lips parted. She drew in a slow breath. Her eyes opened wide as my cock filled her. Her legs squeezed me tightly, teeth clenched, her fingers digging into my back. Her moans gradually became louder as I drove into her and spread her thighs apart.

  “Right there... Right there!”

  Becky bucked and shuddered around me as her fingers raked my back. She gripped my ass and pulled me deeper into her as she came. I tried to convince myself to not catch feelings, to just enjoy what this was, but the moment we changed the dynamics of our friendship and became intimate, I knew I had feelings for her.

  She rested her head on my shoulder. The warmth of her body felt good on me as we cuddled.

  Becky looked at our intertwined bodies. Her soft hand held mine. Dark skin resting on top of peach-colored skin.

  “I love the way your skin contrasts with mine. It’s ... beautiful.”

  I smiled.

  “Can I spend the night?” she asked.

  “You can spend the weekend.”

  We laughed and spent the rest of our night sexing each other up and holding each other.

  * * *

  The next day, Becky and I were going to spend the whole day cuddled up together on the couch, but my doorbell buzzed.

  I stood up and answered the door—then sucked my teeth when I saw Gabby standing in my doorway, smiling.

  “This is a surprise. I’ve been calling and texting you for the last two weeks,” I said.

  “Yeah, I’ve been busy.”

  “What’s up?”

  “Aren’t you going to invite me in? It’s early, and I want to get a quick run in.
It’s nice outside, and I want you to keep me company.”

  Gabby attempted to walk into my place, but I blocked her with my arm.

  “I can’t. This isn’t a good time right now. I have company.”

  “So? It’s not like I haven’t hung out with you and your boys before. Who’s here? Terrence?”

  She tried to step past me, but I blocked her again.

  “No, it’s not Terrence.”

  “Why are you acting all weird and secretive?”

  “Because I’m not hanging out with a guy. I’m sort of continuing a date.”

  “What?” Gabby said. “Since when?”

  “Since now. I’ll call you later,” I said, slowly closing the door.

  “She must be ugly if you’re not trying to be seen with her outside.” She laughed, trying to look past me.

  I sighed. “Later, Gabby.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Is that her fucking bra in the hallway?” Gabby asked, pushing the door open and rushing past me.

  Becky was only wearing my Carmelo Anthony jersey and panties but stood up as soon as Gabby stormed into the living room.

  “Hi, I’m Becky,” she said, smiling and extending her hand.

  Gabby stared daggers at her, looking her up and down, mentally dissecting her, and left her standing there with her hand hanging. She glowered at her, then shot her eyes at me.

  “Who’s this, Ben?” Gabby asked.

  “This is my . . . friend Becky.” I turned and faced Becky. “This is Gabby, my friend I was telling you about.”

  Becky smiled and extended her hand again. “Hi. Ben has told me so much about you. It’s nice to meet you.”

  Gabby rolled her eyes and turned back to me. “No wonder you’re keeping her inside. You don’t want people to see you’re a sellout. What? I shoot you down after our one-time fuck, and you swear off of black women?”

  Becky’s smile waned, and she put her hand down.

  I tried my hardest to speak calmly, but Gabby kept interrupting me.

  “Stop!” I yelled.

  Gabby stood there, stunned at my loud outburst.

  “I haven’t seen you in two weeks. You made it very clear that our night together meant nothing, so don’t come to my place talking to me like I’m a piece of shit.”

  I thought back to how I felt when she wouldn’t return my calls, texts, or emails. She’d shut me out, and I was tired of chasing after a woman I knew I’d never get. I was tired of knowingly being toyed with, catering to her, and the constant games of her playing hard to get. It was at that moment that I made up my mind and decided I was moving on from her.

  “It did mean something. I was going through shit, and I’ll admit I handled the situation wrong, but you didn’t have to run into the arms of a white girl—”

  “And you didn’t have to ignore me. Gabby, I’ll talk to you later. Like I told you before, I have company.”

  “You’re kicking me out?”

  I didn’t answer her. I just stared at her.

  “Fine, but whatever this shit is you have with her, it won’t last.”

  She walked out, and I slammed the door behind her.

  “What a bitch,” Becky said.

  “Yeah, but she’s one of my best friends.”

  “I know. I’m sorry. If it helps, I hope our friendship lasts and blossoms into more.”

  “Me too.”

  * * *

  Becky and I started doing more activities together. I took her to hip-hop concerts with me, and she took me to rock concerts with her. She gradually got me into listening to Linkin Park, and I got her into listening to Drake.

  I introduced her to Terrence, and after getting the approval from him, I knew she was someone special. I invited him over to watch the Knicks game with us. Becky didn’t know anything about sports, but another thing I liked about her was that she wanted to learn so we could bond over it.

  Becky was in the living room. She bent down to pick up the remote that dropped on the floor. Terrence pulled me into the kitchen.

  “Damn, Ben, I didn’t know your snowflake had it like that.”

  “Yeah, she’s nice in all the right places.”

  “She’s thicker than a bowl of oatmeal, bro. Does she have family, friends—anyone that looks like her that she could hook me up with?”

  “I’ll ask.”

  “Seriously, though, I’m glad you stopped chasing Gabby.” Terrence took another look at Becky. “You did good, brother. She’s not a sista, but at least she’s hot.”

  We laughed and shared a brotherly hug.

  It was the little things Becky did regularly that made me fall in love with her. She never made me feel like I was less of a man or put me down. She was supportive and uplifting, qualities I never felt with Gabby. We balanced each other out. Becky was spontaneous and adventurous, while I was always calculated and cautious. She helped me to live in the moment, and I kept her grounded and responsible.

  * * *

  Our relationship was blossoming, but we still hadn’t made things official. It was as if we were avoiding talking about it out of a fear of ruining our good times. The true test came the day I went to her parents’ house for the first time.

  “Why do you look so nervous? I’m the one meeting your parents for the first time,” I said.

  “Yeah, but my parents can be snobbish assholes, and I don’t want them tainting your thoughts about me.”

  I squeezed her hand affectionately, winked, and said, “Never.”

  Becky’s parents lived in a huge, ritzy, gated community, and had the biggest house in it. She fumbled in her purse. “I can’t find my damn keys. Ugh, I’ll just ring the doorbell.”

  A white man who looked like he was in his sixties opened the door.

  “Is this your dad? It’s good to meet you, Mr.—”

  “That’s our butler, Bernard,” Becky said.

  I leaned in close and whispered in her ear, “Your parents have white servants? Now, I know they’re loaded.”

  She playfully nudged me.

  Mrs. Preston appeared and walked toward us. “Thank you, Bernard. I’ll take it from here,” she said.

  Becky’s mother was stunningly gorgeous. She didn’t look a day older than forty. I saw where Becky got her looks, breasts, and hips from, because her mom was sexy for an older woman. She wore very subtle makeup, and she didn’t even need that, because she was naturally beautiful.

  “There’s my favorite daughter,” Mrs. Preston said.

  “Mom, I’m your only daughter.”

  “I see you’re still as cynical as ever.”

  “Hello, Mom,” Becky said, rolling her eyes.

  “Hello, Rebecca. Who is this young man with you?”

  She stuttered a little then said, “This is my boyfriend, Ben.”

  I was taken aback by Becky giving me that title, especially since we hadn’t discussed our relationship yet, but I smiled and shook Mrs. Preston’s hand. She wasn’t smiling. Her expression looked more like one of disappointment.

  “It’s very nice to meet you, Mrs. Preston,” I said.

  “I’m sure. Call me Susan.” She stared at Becky. “Come, Rebecca. Your father is already in the dining room.”

  We walked across spotless marble floors to the dining room.

  “Becky Bear.”

  Rebecca’s eyes lit up. “Hi, Daddy,” she said, running to hug her father.

  Mr. Preston was a tall man, about six-three. He had thick, graying brown hair with a bushy but well-groomed mustache.

  “And who is this gentleman?” Mr. Preston asked.

  “This is Rebecca’s friend, Ben,” Susan said before Becky had a chance to answer.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Ben,” he said, shaking my hand with a firm grip.

  We sat at the dinner table, and Becky tried to talk me up to her parents, telling them how I was the top of my law school class.

  “What’s your stance on politics, Ben?” Mr. Preston asked.

  I laughed off h
is question. “My parents told me there’s two things you should never discuss: religion and politics.”

  “That’s true, but we’re all friends here, right? I’ll tell you this: I can’t believe we have that disgrace of a president Barack Obama in office. Did you support McCain?”

  I didn’t know which would piss him off more, declining to comment, or telling him I voted for Obama.

  “I wasn’t a fan of McCain,” I said, deliberately being vague.

  “Don’t tell me you supported that monkey Obama. Well, what should I expect? You probably loved that loser.”

  I clenched my teeth and took a deep breath, trying my hardest to remain calm and civil.

  “Daddy,” Becky yelled.

  “Steven,” Susan said.

  Mr. Preston raised his hand to cut both of them off. “Obama is going to be the worst president this country has ever had, and your people looked at him like he’s some type of fucking hero. He’s nothing. He’s less than nothing.”

  It took every ounce of self-restraint to stop myself from reaching across the table and knocking him out. Unfortunately, men like him would only take my outburst as typical “black behavior.” The negative image of black people in society was built off stereotypes that we were still trying to overcome. Reinforcing them only proved ignorant pricks like him right, so I kept my composure and asked, “How many white role models would you say you’ve had in your lifetime?”

  “A few, but what does that matter? Obama isn’t a role model. He’s a Muslim socialist,” Mr. Preston replied.

  “I’m sure you had your father, and numerous presidents, and so forth. I’m not the spokesman for black people, but for me, Obama gives me hope. He being elected transcends beyond politics. He shows a generation of black children and even adults that we’re not limited to being just athletes and musicians. While society, TV, and music give the message to black people that ignorance is cool, Obama shows black people that being smart, family-oriented, and selfless is most important.”

  Mr. Preston began a slow, obnoxious clap. “Oh, bravo. A black guy who’s the exception to the rule and influences some other blacks to do things they should be smart enough to be doing already. It’s all bullshit.”

  “Daddy, do you hear yourself right now? You’re being extremely rude and acting like an asshole,” Rebecca said.