by Nicole Falls
I tensed, then relaxed into the embrace when the voice continued, “This guy ain’t bothering you is he, baby?”
Kellz immediately backed up.
“My bad, I ain’t know this was you,” he said.
“No harm, no foul, bruh,” the voice barely finished saying before Kellz turned and took off at a clip in the opposite direction.
I turned to thank my savior and looked into the face of the most handsome man I’d seen in some time. Smooth coppery skin with deep set eyes, a shadow of a beard, full, lickable lips and a bald head that shone like freshly polished silver. I tried opening my mouth to express my thanks, but all that came out was…
“Goddamn.”
He chuckled and said, “You looked like you needed rescuing. Homie didn’t seem to get the hint of you clinging to this stool with half a butt cheek to get away from him.”
“You don’t know the half. His breath was kickin’ like Dragonfly Jones and I thought I was about to pass out. So thank you…” I trailed off, hoping he’d fill in the blank with his name.
“Andre...friends call me Dre.”
I nodded demurely and held out a hand, “Sydney. Thank you, Dre. You saved me from death via halitosis. Lemme buy you a drink in gratitude.”
Dre chuckled again, the sound washed over my body, sending tingles down my spine. “Seriously…your name is Sydney?”
I nodded, looking puzzled. I didn’t see a connection or where he was going with this at all.
“You’ve never seen Brown Sugar, huh?”
“Nope.”
“Hm. I thought y’all loved that Taye Diggs dude.”
“Y’all?”
“Yeah, women. I remember my sister and her friends talking about him nonstop when we were younger.”
I wrinkled my nose. “Not my speed, I was more of a Allen Payne kinda girl.”
“Oh you like them lightskinned wavy niggas, lemme call lil buddy who was just over here back for you. I just intercepted a match made in heaven,” Dre joked.
“Cute,” I responded, rolling my eyes, “So you getting this drink or what?”
“Yeah, let me get a Macallan 25, neat.”
My eyebrows rose. “Daaaaaamn, steep,” I said, raising a hand to get Kisha’s attention, “You think they got something like that in here?”
“I know they do,” he responded, cockily.
“Hey boo…you need a refill?” Kisha asked, finally having made her way back down to the side of the small bar at which I was currently situated.
“Yeah…and also a Macallan 25, neat.”
“Whoa, chica!”
“Not for me, it’s for…” I trailed off, gesturing behind me.
Kisha’s eyes bucked and she responded, “Right away!” before scurrying off to make the drink quickly.
She came back with his drink and I extended my card in her direction. She put a hand up, refusing to take the card.
“I got it, I owe him,” I said, trying to hand her the card once again.
“Nah chica…you’re good. Trust me. Damn good.”
“Okay…if you say so,” I replied, grabbing the squat glass filled halfway with amber liquid and turning around to hand it to Dre. He easily accepted, reaching around me to place the empty glass he’d been holding onto the bar.
“Thank you,” Dre said.
“Don’t thank me. That was the weirdest thing, I tried paying and Kish wouldn’t take my card when she saw who the drink was for. Let me find out I’m rubbing elbows with VIPs out here,” I laughed.
Dre joined me in laughter before responding, “I’m just Andre, ma.”
***
I noticed Sydney as soon as she entered my lounge that evening. I’d noticed her for the past two weeks that she had been showing up, without fail, every Saturday night between 9:15 and 9:45, like clockwork. She always came alone…and left alone. The first time she stepped in the spot, she seemed nervous…kinda skittish. She spent the majority of her time posted up at the smaller of two bars located in the spot…posted up making fast friends with Kisha, one of our bartenders. As the weeks passed, she got more bold, to the point where she stepped through the door with her hips swaying, headed straight to the dance floor if the DJ’s set was in her sweet spot. She couldn’t stay off the floor when Beyoncé or Rihanna was playing, but definitely steered clear of the floor when the latest mumble rap anthem was blaring from the speakers. There was something different about her and I found myself drawn to her for reasons I couldn’t articulate.
I wasn’t going to approach her, content just observing her from afar, but tonight when a dude who looked like a DeBarge family outside child rolled up on her, I knew that I needed to intervene. Besides hanging damn near off the barstool on which she was perched, she looked to be in need of rescue. The further away she maneuvered, the closer old dude moved in as if he was incapable of reading social cues. So I intervened, not quite sure how I’d handle the situation, but knowing that it would end with buddy walking away. My prediction was correct as I currently sat in front of her sipping my Macallan.
“Come here often?” I asked.
Corny as fuck, but accomplished my mission. That pretty ass grin of hers split her face wide open before she even realized as she answered.
“Really? We going with sleazy pick up lines?” she replied.
I raised my hands in surrender. “Hey, I was just tryna make conversation…”
Sydney looked around as the music blared and people were in various stages of turn up around us. “This isn’t quite the place for stimulating…ooooooh shit!”
Suddenly she rocketed from her seat, grabbing my arm and dragging me to the dance floor.
DJ Such and Such had moved into the dancehall section of his set tonight and apparently that was Sydney’s jam. As “Action” by Terror Fabulous played, she pulled me onto the dance floor, drawing me in close as she wound her hips in time to the rhythm. She placed my hands on her hips as she ground her perfect ass into my groin area in a way that had me thinking she was determined to cause a reaction. I had no idea what the hell homie was saying in the patois, but it didn’t matter as Syd turned around to face me, grabbing my face between her hands as she sang along with the woman on the chorus, “I need some action…tender satisfaction…my chemistry is calling…can you cause a chain reaction…”
“I can cause more than a chain reaction, sweetheart,” I growled into her ear.
She just laughed in response, then turned back to grind and wine me into submission. The DJ shuffled from dancehall hit to hit, transitioning from Shabba to Buju Banton to Sean Paul to Beenie Man to Elephant Man to Patra. Sydney kept me on the floor the entire time, wrapping her arms around me, winding her hips suggestively and getting me way too aroused for a simple dance. By the time the set ended, I was harder than a brick and I knew she felt it by the way she kept insistently driving her ass into me. When the DJ transitioned back into that mumble rap bullshit, I led Sydney from the floor, through the throngs of people into a quieter area of the lounge reserved for VIPs who wanted the club atmosphere, but didn’t want to be bothered with the crowds of people.
Opening one of the private rooms, I let Sydney enter before me before shutting and locking the door. Her brows rose at the sound of the clicking lock, but she didn’t utter a word as I walked back over to her. She simply relaxed onto one of the couches in the space and raised an eyebrow as if to say “what now?” I paced myself because what I wanted to do was slide across the floor on my knees like Usher in the “Confessions
Part II” video and shimmy the hem of that dress that barely covered her ass a bit north and go to town. But I refrained, acting like I had some couth and sat beside her on the couch.
Before I could open my mouth to say a word, Sydney slid into my lap. She remained silent as she stroked my beard with a hint of mischief in her eyes. I bit my bottom lip, trying to restrain a groan before speaking.
“You tryna get into some trouble putting your hands on me like this,” I muttered, tense
ly.
“Trouble?” she echoed, leaning closer, using her tongue to swipe across my lower lip before sinking her teeth in, drawing it into her mouth and proceeding to kiss me like a woman with an agenda.
I let her take the lead, setting the pace of our kisses; not wanting to seem too pressed or like I was trying to pressure her into doing anything. I’d seen it happen way too many times in this place…hormones running high in the moment, but giving way to regret once last call happened. If we were going to take it there, she would have to let me know in no uncertain terms that this was what she wanted. And from the insistent way she swirled her tongue against mine, while her hands worked below unbuckling my belt, she definitely wanted something. She made quick work of my belt and the button on my jeans and stuck her hands inside my pants. As quickly as she found what she was looking for, she disengaged and pulled back…breathing heavily.
“You good, ma?”
“Do you…um…is…is that real?!”
“Is…what real?”
“That,” she said, gesturing to my dick which was now completely erect and curving in her direction as if it were magnetically drawn to her.
I chuckled, “Yeah, ma. It’s real.”
“And big. Like almost too big. Nah…it’s definitely too big,” she said, looking down at it once again and shaking her head.
“It’s not even—“ I started before she cut me off.
“Do I have to sign a waiver absolving you of responsibility for ruining my life…and quite possibly my walls with that thing?”
“Yo…you gotta chill,” I laughed.
“Do you know how big your dick is though? Like seriously. I know y’all say you aren’t looking when you’re in the locker room with other dudes, but you have to know how much more blessed you are than ninety-five percent of the population. And you were just gonna let me gon ahead and try to climb up on that monster with no warning? Wow…”
“Careful, you keep this up and I’ll get a big head.”
“Shit can it get any bigger?”
At that we both burst into uncontrollable laughter. I tucked my dick back into my pants, zippering and buttoning back up.
“I didn’t even bring you up here for all of this…not that I’m complaining…because I am not…but let the record show that I really did bring you up here intending to have a conversation, but you decided to ravage me before I could even ask your favorite color,” I said, laughing.
Sydney looked at me like she didn’t believe a word I was saying, but it was the truth. I wanted privacy, but I wasn’t tryna fuck her on a couch in a lounge of my club. Hell, I woulda took her to my office for guaranteed privacy…or better yet, out of here completely to my loft which was only a few blocks away.
“…so talk,” Sydney said, a smirk covering her face.
Before I could open my mouth to speak, the door opened suddenly—a couple crashing through looking like they were trying to get into what my dick had derailed for Syd and me.
“Occupied,” I called out before they commenced to undressing and giving us a show.
“Actually…since you wanna talk…let’s let them have this place and we can go somewhere else to have our conversation,” Sydney said, grabbing my hand and pulling me out of the room before I could protest.
I wasn’t exactly comfortable with my VIP area being turned into the boom boom room and made a mental note to discuss this with my business partner Armond in the morning when we met for our weekly session. For now, Sydney dragged me through the thickened crowd of the lounge right out of the front door then stopped. She quickly flicked her wrist up to check the time and turned to me smiling.
“So where we goin?” she asked.
“I thought you had a destination in mind. You’re the one who dragged me outta the spot,” I replied, my tone full of amusement.
“I thought we could go to Perk, but…” she looked down at her wrist again, “They’re officially closed now. There’s the Carol’s Diner a few blocks away, but uh…I can’t go in there after the Great Pancake Incident of 2013.”
“That sounds like a story.”
“It’s a helluva story. But not one I’d want to get into standing on a random street corner, so you got any ideas?”
“My place isn’t too far…” I offered.
“Lead the way…” Sydney replied.
***
I had no idea of what the hell I was doing or why I agreed to go home with a virtual stranger, but I was rolling with it. New Syd wouldn’t think about the potential dangers that lurked behind the very nice sturdy door through which Andre was ushering me currently. Old Syd wasn’t completely gone as I asked where the bathroom was as soon as we crossed the threshold of the doorway.
“Down two doors to the left,” Dre said, walking toward the kitchen area, placing his keys on a magnetic strip that hung in the hallway.
“Be right back,” I chirped as I hustled down the hall, as if I had to go really badly.
In actuality I was stealing away to place a quick phone call to someone who would likely curse me out if she even answered. It was kind of late and she has probably been asleep for hours by now, but someone needed to know where I was for safety reasons. I entered into the bathroom quickly, putting the toilet seat down completely and pulling out my phone. As the phone rang, I drummed my hands on the very expensive feeling granite of the sink and took a look around. This bathroom looked straight out of a luxury hotel, decorated in shades of white and silver, complete with rainfall shower.
“What the hell do you want, Syd?”
“Heyyyyy sis,” I whispered.
“Are you dying? Why do you sound like you’re on your last breath?”
“I can’t talk too loud or for too long, but if anything happens to me, the last place I was seen was East Prairie Condominiums, unit 15C with a man named Andre.”
“What the hell is…girl have you lost your fool ass mind? Please don’t tell me you’ve actually gone home with a random after the club. Aren’t you too old to be doing this shit still?”
“Wow! Really, Shan? Focus and listen to what I’m saying. You can lecture and ageism me later. East Prairie, 15C, Andre, okay? If I make it out alive I’ll fill you in tomorrow. Gotta go, love you, bye,” I said, disconnecting the call.
Immediately my phone lit up with an incoming call.
“Yes, Shannon Marie?”
“Make sure he wraps that pickle up, Sydney Nicole. I don’t need you making it out of the Craigslist killer’s condo alive only to end up with a little applause in ya drawers.”
A yelp of laughter escaped before I could tamp it down.
“I hate you.”
“Love you too, sissy. Be safe,” Shannon replied before disconnecting the call.
I stood up, fluffed my hair, washed my hands and headed back to the common area up front. Andre had clearly taken advantage of my absence as he was now sitting on the couch in a wife beater and ball shorts…looking even more delicious than he had in the casual clothes he wore at the lounge.
“You good? I thought you had either fallen in or was blowing up my spot back there. I shoulda told you, the air freshener has a build in timer so it’ll spray and clear out your funk automatically,” Andre joked.
“Cute. I see you took the time to change into your motwear…”
A quizzical look overtook his face as he repeated, “Motwear?”
“Yeah, the male thot uniform: wife beater, ball shorts and…” I looked down at his feet, “athletic slides. Showing all your business out here, print just out in the open for anybody to see. Where’s your modesty, sir?”
I tried keeping a straight face as Andre broke down into laughter.
“Yo, you’re something else, ma.”
“Something good, I hope,” I responded.
“Definitely. You want something to drink? I have wine, beer, water and soda.”
“Pop.”
“You want a soda?”
“It’s pop…and no thank you. I’m good. You�
��re not from here, are you?”
“Nah shorty, it’s definitely soda. I’m not…I’m from back east.”
“Let’s agree to disagree. Do you have sparkling or still water?”
“Both…”
“I’ll have the sparkling water.”
“Coming right up,” Dre said, rising from the couch and heading over to the kitchen area.
For some reason I rose right behind him, following as if he were pulling me by a leash behind him. I pulled out a stool from the breakfast bar and sat down while he retrieved a glass and hesitated before calling out.
“You want ice?”
“Sure.” I replied.
He turned around quickly.
“Damn girl, are you a ninja? I didn’t even hear you get up.”
“Just one of my many skills,” I responded, smirking.
“Oh yeah,” he said, handing me my glass of water before fixing himself a drink, “what other skills you got?”
“You know…a little of this…a little of that,” I said being purposefully vague because the only skill I truly had right now was being reckless.
I can’t believe I was sitting in the apartment of a stranger that I picked up at the club? Or technically did he pick me up? Either way, the behavior was out of character for me and I was having second thoughts. Shannon was right. When I first told her about my little plan to go “wookin pa nub in da club” she damn near had me committed to a seventy-two hour hold. I was tired of the normalcy of my life and was in desperate need of a shake up and after committing six years of my life to someone who didn’t give a damn about me, it was high time for me to spread my wings and sow my wild hoe oats.
Andre and I went back to the living room, continuing to converse about everything under the sun and nothing at all. He was a cool ass guy—intelligent, funny, a slight bit belligerent and just…authentic. In my social circles I was so used to coming into contact with and interacting with guys who clearly had an agenda when it came to conversation with women. You could see the gears turning behind their eyes as they mentally calculated whether or not you could become the Michelle to their Barack. When I looked at Andre, however, I saw none of that. It was refreshing to talk about myself and have the person on the other end of the conversation be genuinely interested in what I was saying instead of just waiting for a break to steer the conversation’s focus back on him.
