Vanessa shook her titties from side to side. Then she fastened her bra and buttoned her blouse. “And don’t be afraid to move your titties, hips, whatever. Sex is like dancing.” Vanessa’s body gyrated. “The more you move the better it feels.”
Papa knocked on the door and said, “Breakfast is ready.”
Whew! SaVoy had begun questioning whether Vanessa was giving too much information. “Thanks, Vanessa. I’ve got to hurry to class but I really appreciate your advice.”
“Honey, don’t mention it. Anytime you have a question, let Vanessa know.”
On her way to San Francisco, SaVoy shifted her thoughts from Tyronne and wondered how she could help Tanya get rid of that strange guy William who practically held Tanya hostage in her own home. After William moved in, the only place SaVoy saw Tanya was at work.
SaVoy parked one block away from the campus and prayed the professor didn’t call on her in class. She quickly entered the room, sat in the back of the class, booted up her laptop, and E-mailed the professor her assignment. As soon as class was over, SaVoy stopped at the main library across from San Francisco’s City Hall. After hours of studying and transcribing the tape recorded lecture notes, SaVoy drove to the store thinking how she could help her daddy buy the building at the end of his ten-year lease, which expired next year.
SaVoy entered the store and said, “Hey, Tanya. How’s it going?” then tossed her backpack on the floor behind the counter.
“Fine. Tyronne came by. Said he might come back later.”
SaVoy stood in front of the cooler, opened the door, and stuck her head in. She closed the freezer and smiled at Tanya. “Oh, that man is so fine.”
“Who? Tyronne? Where’d that come from? He’s not your type.” Tanya locked the front door, pulled her cash drawer, and carried the money into the office.
SaVoy followed Tanya. “That’s what’s so exciting about him. He’s not my type at all.” She watched Tanya count her drawer.
She counted her ones, scribbled on her close-out report form, and then did the same with the fives, tens, twenties, and coins.
“Oh, yeah. I accepted a job offer this morning cashiering at the new retail store opening in Emeryville. They don’t open for another month so I can work here until then,” Tanya said, handing SaVoy the piece of paper.
Tanya’s drawer always balanced perfectly. Although SaVoy trusted Tanya, she had to remain professional and keep track of Papa’s inventory and his money. SaVoy wondered how much Tanya knew about sex.
“I wish there was something I could do to keep you here. Look, if you still want a few hours, we can work something out.” SaVoy locked the money in a safe and left fifty dollars in small bills and change in the drawer. SaVoy looked at Tanya and asked, “How does a woman know when she’s had an orgasm?”
Tanya’s forehead wrinkled. “I’m not sure it’s automatic for women like it is for men.” Tanya scratched her head. “Why? Are you—”
“No. I’m just curious, that’s all.” SaVoy carried her cash drawer to the register.
“I gotta run. William gets upset if I keep him waiting too long. He’s taking me to see Brown Sugar but I’m going to secretly feast my eyes on Boris.” Tanya smiled.
Undoubtedly William was paying with Tanya’s money because William didn’t have a job. And he didn’t want a job. He’d convinced Tanya her car was his car and because he was the man of the house she should let him manage her money. Whenever SaVoy tried to tell Tanya to always handle her own money, Tanya became defensive and sided with William. So SaVoy stopped giving Tanya advice.
“Oh, yeah. Before I forget,” Tanya said, “I’ve been meaning to ask, have you heard from Fancy?”
Now that was someone who knew everything there was to know about sex. “You know how Fancy is. She’s probably met a new sponsor for her horseback excursions or something.” SaVoy laughed. “I’ll call her in a few. Have fun and tell William I said hello.” There was no reason for SaVoy to be upset with William. He hadn’t mistreated Tanya.
SaVoy placed her psychology textbook on the counter. She picked up the phone and dialed Fancy’s number. SaVoy’s eyes widened. The corners of her mouth spread to opposite ends. Before the first ring, SaVoy quickly hung up.
“Hey, you,” Tyronne said, then licked his lips. “How’s your little college course coming along?” Tyronne stood in front of the counter, spread his legs apart, and folded his arms across his well-defined chest. He was her superhero. His biceps protruded perfectly under his loose-fitting short-sleeve uniform. Tyronne’s upper body was shaped like a cobra. His back was muscular. Strong. Wide. His incredible waist was small and flat.
SaVoy didn’t care that Tyronne had dropped out of college, but why did he minimize her efforts? Fortunately she’d learned in psychology not to take things personally.
“I heard you stopped by earlier. I was surprised because it’s Monday. But I’m always happy to see you.” SaVoy smiled again.
“Wow. Is that what you learned in college today? It’s Monday.”
SaVoy became quiet and looked at Tyronne.
“Aw, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend your three point eight GPA. But you do look cute when you’re upset.” Tyronne walked behind the counter and opened his arms, offering a hug.
Tyronne’s hug was tighter and lasted longer than usual. SaVoy’s heartbeat quickened as her hands gently rubbed his back. Did Tyronne intentionally thrust his pelvis deep into her abdomen? His unbelievably huge bulge pressed against her belly button. Quickly SaVoy stepped back.
Tyronne laughed and asked, “You okay?”
Noticing the imprint of Tyronne’s penis was larger than she’d imagined, SaVoy looked away. Were her eyes deceiving her? Or did that outline extend from between Tyronne’s legs up to his belt buckle? Tyronne’s head bobbed. He licked his lips and smiled. A customer entered the store so Tyronne walked back to the other side of the counter.
“How much for the AAA batteries? Four pack,” the customer asked.
SaVoy wanted a second look at Tyronne’s privates for verification but didn’t want to appear obvious. Focusing on the customer, she answered, “Four ninety-nine plus tax,” and removed a pack from the wall behind her and handed them to the customer.
“Damn, that’s highway robbery.” The customer flipped the package over and stared at the price.
Tyronne said, “That’s why it’s called a convenience store, my brother. By the time you drive to the supermarket or drugstore, park your car, stand in line—and hope they have them on sale . . .” Tyronne raised his hand. “But. If they don’t, you still gon’ spend four dollars. You might as well go on and get the batteries now.”
“Yeah, that’s true. But she need to lower the price.”
SaVoy placed his receipt and batteries in the bag. “Thanks. Come back again.”
“I can’t stand cheap ass niggas,” Tyronne said after the guy left the store.
SaVoy stared at Tyronne, wondering why she was so attracted to him.
“I’m sorry, I mean cheap ass men.”
SaVoy chose her words carefully and acknowledged Tyronne’s efforts. “Thank you, Tyronne. That’s better.” SaVoy wasn’t trying to change Tyronne but she realized if she encouraged his poor choice of words, Tyronne might start using profanity. Even worse, one day he might decide to use a few of those nasty words on her.
“I need your female perspective. Um, umm.” Tyronne covered his mouth and cleared his throat. “Do you think a brother like myself should take a woman to see Michael Baisden’s Men Cry in the Dark?”
“Yeah, of course. Why not?” SaVoy grinned. She’d been so busy, all she had time to do was talk about going to the play. Fancy was going with Byron. Tanya was going with William. Desmond was taking Carlita. Seemingly she was the only one who didn’t have tickets or a date.
“It’s not one of those mushy type plays with men in tights dancing across the stage? Or women puttin’ brothas down, is it?” Tyronne struck a familiar heroic pose with his
arms folded high across his chest.
“No, Tyronne. You’ll like it. So, who are you taking?” Vanessa once told her never to assume anything when dealing with men.
Casually, Tyronne said, “A friend. You don’t know her.”
SaVoy’s smile faded. “Oh, I see.” SaVoy’s voice was flat. “Well, I’m sure she’ll enjoy the play.”
“She’s just a friend. Always complaining I don’t take her anywhere. Thanks for the tip. Now, if I don’t like the play you know I’m gon’ fire you on Wednesday. Peace. I’m out.” Tyronne slapped the counter and left.
Why did it even matter that he was taking someone else? He wasn’t her man. Tyronne was her friend. A friend she liked a lot but didn’t know how to express her feelings to. Didn’t he know she liked him? Couldn’t he tell by her actions and reactions toward him? SaVoy swallowed the emotional lump in her throat and fluttered her eyelids, washing back the spate of salty water clouding her vision. She flipped open her psychology book but couldn’t concentrate on any of the words. Then she remembered she was supposed to call Fancy.
SaVoy dialed Fancy’s work number. Fancy answered on the first ring.
“Washington and Associates. This is Fancy Taylor.” Fancy’s voice became softer, then she said, “Speak to me.”
“Hey, I see you’re still seducing all your callers. How are you? Haven’t heard from you in a couple of days,” SaVoy responded.
“Only the wealthy ones,” Fancy responded. Her tone instantly lost its seductiveness. “I’m fine. Just dealing with this jerk-off of a boss. He’s upset because I quit letting him lick Miss Kitty.” Fancy’s voice perked up. “But I’m into Byron. I love me some Byron. He’s the one. He’s going to be my husband. I bought a bridal catalog yesterday and I want you to help me plan our wedding.”
“Has Byron mentioned marriage? Bought you a ring? Or proposed?” SaVoy asked, because this wasn’t the first time Fancy had met “the one.”
“No, but he did buy me a new Benz. The ring will automatically follow. You know how men are. They expect us to take the lead. That’s why you haven’t gotten a date with Tyronne. You keep waiting for him to ask you out first. Tyronne has a big dick just like my Byron. Girl, I have a built-in dickarometer. They can’t conceal those luscious weapons. And, girl, you can’t wait for a man that’s hung and gifted to ask you out. You gotta jump on that with your legs wide open and ride that shit till it collapses.” Fancy gasped. “My bad. You still a virgin. On second thought, you’d better not fuck with that big dick. It’ll just ruin you into a heavenly ho and have you speakin’ in tongues. At least wait until after you graduate, ’cause once you’ve sucked and fucked a big one, you won’t be able to think straight. Let me pull out my calendar. What are you doing Sunday morning? I’ll bring the catalog. This one just came out. It’s for African-American brides and it is the bomb!”
SaVoy exhaled, then said, “The same thing you should be doing—”
Before SaVoy could finish Fancy said, “My bad. Church. How about Saturday morning?”
“Saturday is fine, Fancy.”
“Good. I’ll change my horseback riding appointment with Byron from Saturday to Sunday and I’ll go roller-blading early Saturday morning. I’ll pick you up around nine. I know this fabulous breakfast spot secluded up in the hills. White people mainly eat there so you’ll fit right in.” Fancy laughed.
SaVoy asked, “Should I call and invite Tanya?”
“If you must. But I doubt she can get a weekend pass from the warden.”
SaVoy couldn’t disagree with Fancy, this time. “Fancy can I ask you a question about sex?”
“Oh, oh. Okay, go ahead.”
“How does a woman know when she’s experienced an orgasm?”
Fancy started breathing heavy into the phone. “Haaaa. Haaaaa. Damn, you! Damn, you! Yes! Fuck me! Harder! Harder! Ooooooooo! But for you, you’ll probably find yourself screaming praises and calling God’s name.”
SaVoy shook her head and said, “I knew I shouldn’t have asked you.”
“Suit yourself. But I’ve got go. Here comes horny Harry licking his damn lips again.”
SaVoy hung up the phone wondering if Fancy was right about Tyronne. Did she really need to make the first move to get Tyronne’s attention? Would making an advance alter their relationship? Maybe the girl Tyronne said was just his friend was really his girlfriend. SaVoy needed to talk with Vanessa. She picked up the phone and dialed Vanessa’s number.
“We’re sorry. The person you are calling does not accept calls from unidentified callers . . .”
SaVoy knew that. She dialed star-eight-two, then quietly hung up the phone as several customers entered the store.
CHAPTER 13
Desmond stood outside Carlita’s door debating whether to ring the bell or go to Fancy’s apartment. Fancy had left several messages, each one saying she needed him. Not the way he preferred. The brakes on her new car were squeaking, again. If she was so happy with dude, why did she keep calling him? How could Fancy just have sex with him and then act as if they never consummated their friendship? A voice inside his head whispered, Just leave. Go over to Fancy’s. Come back to Carlita’s later or tomorrow.
How could Desmond compete with the wealthy men who generously gave Fancy everything she wanted, including a fifty thousand dollar car? After dude gave Fancy the Benz, Fancy gave Desmond back his old car and said, “If you don’t want it, Dez, get rid of it.” Desmond sat on the bench by Carlita’s door and gnawed his fingernail. Why did he keep revisiting the same issues? Something inside him just wouldn’t let go of Fancy. Was it his pride? Or was it the fact that despite all of Fancy’s flaws, Desmond was still in love with her?
All Desmond wanted was to love Fancy, be true to her, and he wouldn’t hurt her like most of the insensitive guys she dated. If being rich also meant he had to become insensitive and arrogant, Desmond would rather remain a mechanic. But that wasn’t his future plan. Becoming a famous attorney was his destiny. If Fancy would support him now, he’d stay with her forever. If she waited until after he became rich and famous, it would hurt him because at best she would be just a friend.
Shaking his head he reached for the door knocker. Maybe if no one heard him he could honestly tell Carlita he came by but no one answered the door. Yeah, right, a household of five, at ten o’clock at night, and everyone was gone. Desmond stopped debating with himself and pressed the lit rectangle.
Ding-dong.
A silhouette of beauty emerged before his eyes. Carlita opened the door wearing an ankle-length black sheer robe with nothing—nothing—underneath.
“Hi, baby. You can use your key, you know.”
“And miss out on seeing my woman open the door looking all sexy? I’m glad I didn’t.”
Desmond smiled and followed Carlita into the living room. As Carlita jiggled her butt, the belt tied around her waist seemed determined not to let the smooth material covering her voluptuous ass become buried between Carlita’s cheeks. Her hair was loose and swayed, releasing the sweet freshness he’d come to love. A dab of vanilla aromatherapy oil rubbed in her palms, lightly run through her hair then brushed throughout was one of Carlita’s secrets. Desmond loved Carlita. But he wasn’t in love with her like she was with him. Barry White’s “I’m Gonna Love You Just a Little More, Baby” resonated throughout the house.
Carlita pointed toward the couch and sang, “ ‘I’m gonna love you, love you, love you.’ ”
A tray of freshly sliced mangos arranged in the shape of a heart decorated a simple black platter, which sat centered on the glass-top coffee table. A bottle of champagne rested in an ice bucket next to two extralong-stemmed wineglasses. The familiar scent of strawberry candles burned along with several jasmine incense sticks. The house was pleasantly quiet.
“Where the kids?” Desmond asked, looking around.
Kids. Desmond shouldn’t call them kids because he was only six years older than Carlita’s oldest. The minute they would hear his voice they�
��d rush into the living room and challenge him to a game of Madden or chess. Carlita didn’t condone wrestling in her house so pillow fighting was out of the question, at least when she was home. Carlita would say, “I don’t have money to throw away on carelessness. You break something in this house, you will pay for it with cash or I will beat your ass.” Most of Carlita’s promises were fulfilled so when they broke the lamp in her son’s bedroom, Desmond rushed to IKEA and bought a new one.
“At my sister’s. I asked her to keep them for me this weekend. I needed a Carlita weekend.” She leaned over and softly kissed his lips, slipping a slice of mango in the corners of their now interlocked jaws.
“Umm.” Sucking and slurping, Desmond couldn’t tell which was sweeter—Carlita’s tongue or the sugary fruit.
It was Friday night so Desmond should have been excited he had thirty-six to forty-eight hours to have Carlita all to himself. Instead he was already thinking of an excuse not to be available Saturday or Sunday.
Carlita rubbed her hand through his hair, then massaged the back of his neck. Desmond’s eyes automatically closed, his head instantly fell, causing his chin to hit his collarbone. Desmond remembered how his mother used to rub the back of his head when he was a little boy. The relaxing sensation immediately cleared his mind.
“So, how was your day?” Carlita asked, working her fingers into his pressure points.
“Fine,” Desmond mumbled, “fine.”
Fancy was the woman of his dreams, but Carlita was a real woman. Fancy never offered nor gave him a massage. Maybe that’s why Desmond preferred dating older women. They cooked, cleaned, and still had time to please their man.
Desmond muttered, “And yours?”
“Oh, I had a fabulous day. I spent my day at the Orinda spa. I started with a manicure and pedicure. Then I had a ninety-minute body massage. Ooh that felt so good.” Carlita moaned like she was having an orgasm. “Have you ever had a hot-stone massage?” Carlita asked, tasting the tip of his fingers.
He's Just A Friend Page 10
