These Are My Confessions

by Robinson, Cheryl; Smith, Meta; King, Joy; Parks, Electa Rome

  “Look at you. Yeah, you’re getting good and wet for me.

  “Moan for me.

  “Keep stroking. Stick your fingers all the way in. Do it harder. Faster. Open your legs wider.”

  With my eyes closed, head thrown back, my breathing was getting more erratic.

  “That’s my girl. Get yourself off. Get yours.

  “Come here, let me taste you,” he said, sticking my fingers in his mouth and sucking. “Hmm, finger lickin’ good. Delicious. Come here,” he said again, this time pulling me down onto the bed, on top of him.

  Drake entered me quickly and roughly, a sigh of surprise escaping me. Tonight we weren’t making love; tonight was fuck night. We had those too, just like costume night. Drake was going to fuck me unmercifully as he frantically gripped and maneuvered my hips up and down to the steady, rhythmic beat of his relentless dick. With every thrust of his rod, my womanhood eagerly anticipated and accepted the next.

  Later, still not sated, he smacked my butt as he leaned me over a chair and entered me from behind, pulling me into him as he bit down on my neck and gave me all he had. Over and over.

  Smack! “Work that ass.”

  Smack! “Take this dick.”

  Smack! “Open that pussy up for me. That’s right.” Pushing my legs open with his knees.

  Ohhh. Ahhh. Ohhh.

  “Yeah. You like this dick, don’t you?”

  Smack! “Don’t you?”

  “Ohhh, yes, babe.”

  “You ready to come? You almost there?”

  “Ohhh. Yeah.”

  “Come on this dick.”

  “Ohhh. Ohhh. Oh…my…God.”

  “Yeah, this is mine. My pussy.”

  It’s Over…

  Dear Journal,

  Sometimes I close my eyes and dream of the day when Drake will love me. However, it’s just that, a dream…a carefully crafted illusion. I used to think I needed him next to me. Sometimes, I craved him so much I couldn’t sleep at night. Thoughts of him kept me at full alert. Drake was my natural high.

  Now, that’s never going to happen–Drake loving me. There are situations and events that occur in one’s life that never allow you to go back. There aren’t any “what ifs,” “buts,” or “ands.” Some things are totally unforgettable, unacceptable, and unforgivable. In some situations saying “I’m sorry” is simply not enough. Not good enough. The only feasible solution is to go your own, separate ways because hate is your constant companion.

  We were once happy, though, at least I was. I’ll admit that. Drake, I think he was happy with me. At first anyway. There were many smiles, gentle moments in time, sincere mutterings of truths. I hope everything wasn’t a lie. However, I know, once you tell one lie, you have to continue to keep up with the first one. Eventually, your reality becomes based on myriad lies on top of lies, and that’s no way to live. You’re simply existing under an illusion of untruths.

  I figured out, much too late, that Drake is all about the chase. The thrill of the game. He gets off making women love him. That gives him an adrenaline rush. Once that’s accomplished, he’s gone…like a thief in the night. Game over. He is very competitive by nature. Love, just like business, is all about dividing, conquering, and winning. Once it’s accomplished, it’s another notch on his belt. Another line or two on his glorious résumé. Broken hearts his souvenir.

  Drake realizes he is a very attractive, gorgeous, charming man, and most women’s fantasy. He uses that to his advantage. He has cultivated it to an exact science that turns women to putty in his strong hands, and then he attempts to mold and sculpture that clay to his heart’s desire.

  So yes, in the beginning we were happy. Very happy. Drake wouldn’t have had it any other way. It was all part of the illusion he expertly crafted. In order to love him, you have to be happy first. And believe me, Drake knows how to make a woman feel special and desired. Special, intimate dinners, weekly deliveries of fresh fragrant flowers, luxurious weekend getaways, whispered promises during midnight phone calls, “just because” cards that speak of love and devotion; these were all part of that total facade to make one love him. He succeeded.

  I thought Drake was the one who could make my life complete. Now, I think that whole concept is totally ludicrous and I was crazy for thinking it. Neither Drake nor anyone else can make my life complete. I have to do that for myself. I didn’t come to this realization overnight; I won’t give myself that much credit. It took a near fatal mistake, reflecting, and growing up.

  Looking back, I was at Drake’s beck and call. I’d drop everything to be with him. My family, friends, even myself, played second fiddle to Drake. I used to upset Taylor so much when I’d break an outing with her to be with Drake. All Drake had to say was jump, and I’d ask how high. I had no shame. Drake became my entire world, and that’s when he became dangerous to my soul and well-being. Never make a man your entire world! Don’t give him that power.

  The Aftermath…

  “Hey, I’m in the lobby. Come on down, girl. I’m starving,” Taylor screamed into the phone, hanging up before I could manage more than a simple greeting.

  “I’ll be right down,” I said to a dead line.

  Today was Valentine’s Day, and I almost didn’t come to work. I seriously contemplated calling in sick. I didn’t feel like seeing my coworkers’ cubicles overflowing with beautiful red roses or hearing them boast about what their boyfriends or husbands were doing for them or taking them for Valentine’s Day. It seemed everyone was in a relationship or had that special someone in their life to love and adore them, but me. I had no one. I was all alone. Drake was history. After what went down.

  Even Taylor, who went through men like ruined and discarded stockings, had been dating this one guy on a regular basis. Regular for Taylor meant for more than a month. I have to admit, I was more than a bit jealous. Sometimes, I wished I were more like her. Taylor was outgoing, chipper, and gorgeous. I don’t think she ever met anyone who wasn’t a friend. She was the type of person who would strike up a conversation in an elevator with a complete stranger, while most of us would stare at the ceiling or the doors and wait for them to open. She’d walk out of the elevator with a phone number and plans to hook up later at happy hour.

  After making it down to the lobby, stepping off the elevator and glancing toward the gold and black security desk, I spotted Taylor right away. She wasn’t hard to miss. With a dress that was fierce, but not too sexy for work, she was dressed from head to toe in red. She had on red shoes with straps that enclosed her ankles, which I’m sure cost her a small fortune.

  Her long brown hair was pulled back off her face and cascaded in waves down her back. Taylor would tell you in a minute that her hair wasn’t a weave either. Don’t even think it. Resembling a young Janet Jackson, she looked gorgeous. However, Taylor always looked great, like she just stepped off the pages of a fashion magazine or perhaps a catwalk in Paris.

  The thin and very married security guard closest to her was trying to check her out without being too obvious. Taylor was so busy checking her lipstick and hair in her small compact that she didn’t even notice him. Yet, all the men passing by noticed her and gave admiring stares and no doubt wished they’d be lucky enough to spend even one night with her.

  After putting her compact away, she looked up and spotted me. Instantly, a huge smile spread across her face. A smile that lit up her deep dimples. Her happiness made me grin, and I momentarily forgot my situation. Taylor met me halfway and linked her left arm through my right one.

  “Hey, sweetie,” she said, giving me a quick kiss on the cheek. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

  “Is it? I wouldn’t know.”

  “Oh, Kennedy, come on. It’s not that bad. Today is just another day. A day for big corporations to make money off of the buying public who get caught up in yet another holiday. Next month it will be Easter.”

  “That’s easy for you to say. I bet your new boyfriend, what’s his name, hooked you up.”
/>   Taylor didn’t say anything, just continued confidently walking toward the revolving doors to the outside.

  “Well?” I asked, stopping halfway out the door.

  “Okay, Kennedy, I did receive some flowers. But so what?”

  “Someone in the world cares about you. That’s what.”

  “I care about you, and so do your parents.”

  “Thanks, but it’s just not the same,” I declared, walking outside.

  “Well, I’m going to put a smile on that pretty face of yours if it kills me. What do you want to eat?”

  “I don’t care. Food is food. I’ll go wherever you want to.”

  “See what I mean? K, you have to start making decisions. Quit being so indecisive. That’s why Drake bossed you around.”

  “Whatever.”

  “I’m treating you to lunch. I haven’t seen you in weeks, and here you are, acting funky. Snap out of it.”

  “Well, thanks a lot. We can’t all be the charming, sexy lady in red,” I stated sarcastically.

  “What am I going to do with you?”

  I rolled my eyes upward. Before I could answer, Taylor was off on another tirade.

  “Since you can’t decide, I’ll choose for us. Let’s do Mick’s for lunch. I’ve been feening for some of their chocolate chip cheesecake; I haven’t had any in months.”

  “It doesn’t matter. Sounds good to me.”

  “Okay, cool. Let’s do it. Ooh, I’m so happy to see you,” she declared, squeezing me into a gentle hug.

  As we walked the couple of blocks up to Mick’s, Taylor was a complete chatterbox. I couldn’t help but notice the appreciative glances and outright stares that were directed our way. Whenever Taylor and I hung out, men seemed to come out of the woodwork like roaches. I couldn’t remember a time we’d ever had to buy ourselves drinks in the clubs. As for Taylor, I couldn’t recall when she didn’t have a man she was dating or one or two waiting in the wings. I met plenty of men, but I guess my personality spoke volumes for me. Men saw me as standoffish, and I wasn’t into dating every Jamal, Brandon, and Malik who asked me out. I was looking for quality, not quantity. Taylor, on the other hand, was following her mother’s example. By the time I met her, Taylor’s mother had already gone through four husbands.

  “Here we are. Crowded as usual, just as we expected,” Taylor said, opening the door for us to enter. The noise level, as always, was in maximum overdrive. We had to nearly scream to hear what each other was saying.

  “Table for two, nonsmoking,” she requested of the friendly waiter dressed in black and white.

  Taylor and I were in luck because we were immediately led to a booth, near the kitchen, over in the corner of the busy restaurant. I didn’t have to study the menu since I had eaten at Mick’s on numerous occasions, but I pretended to check out the selections to shield myself from her scrutiny and pending questions. As I pretended to peruse the menu, I could feel her eyes on me.

  “Well, friend, what’s up? Looks like you’ve lost some weight,” Taylor said, carefully looking me over.

  “Have I? I haven’t noticed.” Actually, I had, since my clothes were too loose, but Taylor didn’t need to know all that. I knew it was only a matter of time before the fifty questions began.

  “And don’t tell me nothing’s up because I know better.”

  “I’m sorry to disappoint you, but nothing is up.”

  “Kennedy, I’ve been your best friend for how many years? I know when something is bothering you,” she said, squeezing my hand across the table. “I love you. When you hurt, I hurt.”

  After hearing the sincerity in her voice, I had to close my eyes shut because I longed to tell her everything that was wrong in my world. I wanted to inform her of my unhappiness with myself and my failed relationship with Drake. I longed for her to know of my attempted suicide and how Mother was smothering me with her unwavering love and devotion. Living down in Florida, after their divorce, Daddy was not aware of what happened.

  I ached to ask why I couldn’t find love, only sorrow, and to ask why my life wasn’t going the way I wanted it to go. I yearned to tell her how I daydreamed about finding my birth mother and asking her why she gave me up. There was so much I desperately needed to share with Taylor as she sat there with her perfect manicure, expertly lined MAC lips, beautifully coiffed hair. But, I didn’t; I couldn’t.

  I lied and told her half-truths because the real truth hurt too deeply. My truths weren’t pretty, and I wanted to be pretty in her eyes. I didn’t want to disappoint Taylor or take the smile from her lips. Her smile let me know that there was joy in life. It wasn’t impossible.

  “Taylor, so much is going on. It would take three lunches to discuss everything.”

  “I have time. I have all the time in the world for you, K.”

  “I know and I appreciate it.”

  “Girl, is Drake still bothering you?”

  At first I didn’t speak. I just looked ahead of me and stared at the wall. I hated that I had shared details the other night on the phone of how he’d harassed me after our breakup. Driving by, calling me. Making my life a living hell…after all that happened.

  “Well, is he?” Taylor asked impatiently.

  I had to let some of my confusion out. “Not lately. But I can’t get him off my mind. I have a love-hate relationship playing out in my head and heart. I despise how he treated me, which is what caused our relationship to end; yet I still love him when I think of all the good times we shared. And yes, Taylor, we did share many wonderful times,” I declared, staring at her and praying that she’d understand where I was coming from.

  “I know, sweetie. I’m sure you did. I know you are hurting now, but there are more fish in the sea if you’d only give them a chance. Drake wasn’t the one. He wasn’t right for you. He was more like a piranha. I sensed that. I don’t know what happened to permanently end your relationship, but I assume you will tell me in time. I’m just glad he’s out of your life. For good.”

  “Yeah, you’re right.”

  “What can I do? What can I do to help?”

  “Nothing. I just need time to see where I wanna be.”

  “Take it. Take that time.”

  I didn’t say anything, just looked up as our waiter approached the table with pen and pad in hand.

  “Are you lovely ladies ready to order?”

  Taylor answered for us. “Yes. I think we are.”

  We placed our orders and settled into a comfortable silence, as friends do.

  “Kennedy, you know I don’t usually get involved in your love life.”

  “Since when?”

  “I want to discuss Drake. You know I don’t like how he treated you.”

  “Here we go again.”

  “Yes, here we go again. When you love someone, you just don’t treat them bad.”

  “He is no longer in my life. Between you and Mother, y’all are driving me crazy over Drake Collins.”

  “Well, maybe you should listen to us. Underneath all that bullshit charm and good looks, he is an arrogant, conniving, good for nothing, lowlife. I think he secretly hates women,” Taylor exclaimed in her usual animated way, with hands and hair flying all over the place.

  “You really don’t like him do you?” I asked with a genuine smile on my face.

  “No, I don’t, and I don’t feel that you—” Taylor stopped in mid-sentence when she realized I was making fun of her.

  We laughed for a good two minutes.

  For the remainder of lunch my mood soared. It was good to be back in Taylor’s presence. Her aura was so positive and full of intoxicating energy. She was perfect for her role as an account executive over at Coca-Cola.

  “Are we still going away in June?” she asked out of the blue.

  “I don’t know.”

  “What do you mean you don’t know? We can’t break with tradition.”

  “Well, yeah, I guess you’re right. I’m going.”

  “Oh, oh. And we have to go shopping
for swimwear.”

  “I’ll wear my suit from last year.”

  “No. We have to pick out something new and sexy. Something that will make the men fall out of their lounge chairs with their tongues dragging the ground.”

  “Maybe I don’t want them falling out of their chairs over me.”

  “K, you are no fun. That’s the thrill—to see how stupid and juvenile they act just to see a little ass and cleavage.”

  “That’s your idea of fun?”

  “Yes. I’m seriously thinking about writing a book called ‘1001 Stupid Men Tricks.’ I’ve seen enough dumb shit at the clubs to fill up two books.”

  “I wouldn’t have enough material for a quarter of a book.”

  “K, you’ve got to get out more and be more observant. You’ve never noticed how you can bat your long eyelashes, toss your hair, and just look at men with those big innocent eyes, and they’ll be at your beck and call…” With that, Taylor was into chatterbox mode again. I listened for a few more minutes before my attention span floated away.

  For as long as I could remember, Taylor and I always went away the second week in June. It was a tradition we started right after college. We’d do the girl thing, pack our swimsuits and sunscreen, and head off for a wonderful week full of fun and sun. We always rebond during those times, and I realize what a true and real friend Taylor is to me. We have some really deep conversations, and of course, we party!

  Our waiter brought our meals and drinks to the table and went to greet new customers who were seated at his other stations.

  “Sweetie, how’s your salad?” Taylor asked, digging into her lunch with gusto.