She Ain’t the One

by Mary B. Morrison

  Interestingly, those hussies prancing around us with way too much cleavage bursting out of their tops and pubic hairs peering from underneath their skirts didn’t seem to impress him. Maybe Jay was a better catch than I realized.

  As he scratched behind his ear, a perplexed grin replaced my rescuer’s laughter, making his deep dimples fade from his cheeks. His beautiful brown eyes lowered from my eyes to my arm, lingering on the pinkish imprint that asshole’s paw left behind, then back up to my eyes.

  Seductively he asked, “Are you okay?” He shoved the bar stool farther underneath the high circular table, giving me a clear view of the large imprint of his dick freely hanging inside his slacks.

  Damn. I’m much better now. Thanks.

  I heard his question but didn’t respond, second-guessing if his charm was natural or his way of trying to sway me into his bedroom, spread my legs, and then make a deposit with no return. More than likely, he just wanted sex. A one-night stand. A good time for himself. Certainly, he didn’t care about me. If he did, he would’ve noticed I could’ve used a hug. I was sure that, in his mind, he’d already grazed his luscious tongue over my perky pink nipples, sucking them into a firm erection. My ruby-red lipstick was probably wrapping around his dick, trailing from his bulging head down to his nuts, until he’d come all over my face in a pleasurable roar while running his fingers through my long hair.

  I don’t know what I’ll do if this man uses me up too. I stared through the window at the boats docked outside on the waterfront. The motionless vessels, synchronizing with my slender body, indicated the water was calm. So was I—on the outside. I was confused on the inside. I desperately wanted him, yet I didn’t want to feel dirty afterward if I gave myself to him. Yeah, whoever this fine man was, patiently smiling at me, if he knew what I knew, he would leave now. Right now.

  “Are you okay?” he asked again.

  Not looking at him I whispered, “I’m fine.” And, God, please don’t let him say, “You sure are,” because I swear, if I hear that lame-ass line one more time, I’ma slap him so hard, the song playing in the background is gonna skip a beat or two.

  “Good.” His mouthwatering smile commanded my attention, surprisingly making my panties moist.

  Why he stood next to me exuding sexual implications, when he could’ve easily had any one of the so-called women in the room, I didn’t know. Honestly, I did know but hoped I was wrong. I just couldn’t take being a man’s playmate again. I had a brain, and thanks to my doggish ex, my intelligence was attached to a broken heart—a lethal combination for establishing a new love affair.

  Imagining Jay’s thick lips kissing my clit, I repositioned my hips on the stool. Damn, he sounded good. I hadn’t made love in almost a year; no man had made me want to. Foolishly I had had sex with Darius whenever he wanted because I didn’t want to believe he didn’t love me no more. Darius had gone from making love to me, to straight-up fucking me like I was a whore he’d picked up for a one-night stand.

  Interrupting my thoughts, Jay continued, “You look like a smart lady. Do you mind if I ask you a quick question before I leave?”

  Before you leave? Where are you going? He’s supposed to be interested in me.

  “Sure. Ask me anything.” I gazed at his hands. Slowly my eyes trailed up his arm, over his biceps, shoulder, neck, to his dimples, and paused. How could I have missed those dazzling dimples? Gradually, I lifted my eyelids, invitingly peering into his eyes. Suppressing my rapid breathing, quietly I inhaled, imagining Jay finger-fucking the shit out of me right now on top of the table in the midst of hundreds of people. Maybe if he fucked me like he didn’t know me, didn’t want to get to know me, and couldn’t care less if he saw me again, I wouldn’t have any expectations of him. Expectations were the detour to the demise of my happiness.

  Moaning a slow “Mmmmm,” Jay was a welcome distraction from the previous sorry-ass men with their annoying-ass lines.

  What’s a beautiful woman like you doing sitting by yourself? Where’s your man? Your husband let you come out alone? Those men knew good ’n well they were happy I was alone and couldn’t care less if I had a man or husband. Besides, they were interrupting me depressing myself by dwelling on all the things Darius and I had been through.

  Jay smiled. “Do you think a man can be friends with his ex?”

  “Huhhhh?” Thanks for interrupting my thoughts and making my pussy hot again. I lowered my head as silence hovered over us. I couldn’t escape the memories. My history with Darius defined me. Denied me from being free. Darius’s mom married my dad, and I was naive enough to let him convince me that our parents’ marriage didn’t make us related. He reassured me it was okay for us to become lovers because even though we’d lived together as kids we weren’t biologically related and there was no way that our kids would come out deformed. Darius always loved a challenge. The longer I said no, the more attention he’d given me. When I submitted to his desires, I thought if I made Darius happy, he would make me happy, and we’d be together forever.

  “Was it something I said?” Jay asked, lightly touching my hand.

  My pussy quivered. Reclaiming my hand, I answered his first question, “Not if you’re still in love. Exes can never be friends; not true friends anyway.”

  I’d been foolish enough to accept a job working for Darius at his Los Angeles company, Somebody Gotta Be On Top. Sure as hell wasn’t me—unless we were having sex. That no-good bastard used me up, then proposed to some…some…whateva. I should’ve kicked his ass or demolished his house, or made him lose that NBA contract, but all I did was listen to my know-it-all lawyer daddy and move back home from Los Angeles to Dallas. Living in a different city from Darius didn’t make me love him any less. I loved him more.

  “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Jay flipped open his cell phone and looked at the time. “One more question and then I’m out—do you think a man is obligated to be patient and teach a woman who’s horrible in bed how to please him?”

  This time my pussy chilled out, now that I knew he was more concerned about which woman he might be taking home with him than trying to be my bedmate for the night. Couldn’t blame him.

  Exhaling, I replied, “No. Life is short. And although handsome, you’re a little too grown to be teaching a woman what to do in bed. A real woman would already know. Find someone else to give your heart to, or whatever it is you’re giving; there’s plenty of lonely women looking for a good dick to sex properly.” I could’ve penciled myself in as number one.

  He smiled at me like I’d never been smiled at before. “Easier said than done—unless you happen to know a lonely woman that fits the description?”

  I started grinning again. This man had better leave me the hell alone, or he’s going to pay dearly for all my pain and suffering.

  I knew what my problems were—I was beautiful, wealthy, and too damn polite. My throbbing pussy easily fell in love with a good dick and then, by default, I fell in with the man attached to the dick. After every breakup, I hated men but loved sex. I especially disliked the guys that used me, then threw me away like recyclable trash.

  Handsome raised his finger in the air. “Waitress, give this lady whatever she’s drinking on me before she misses last call.” His eye winked at her. His dimple smiled at me. There was that sexy-ass smile again.

  Let him lick your pussy and make you feel better, if only for a moment. Then I’d risk falling in love with him…but at least you’ll temporarily forget about your pain.

  I wanted him to stay; he needed to leave. Was he just not interested, or was it another woman? Deep down inside I wanted him to stay; no, I didn’t want to be the one who asked him, I wanted him to ask me to go home with him. But he didn’t.

  “A dirty Grey Goose ’tini,” I said to the waitress. She stood staring at Handsome as he handed her a twenty-dollar bill, like she wanted to get dirty with him right there in front of my face. Slut! You’re the reason why men treat us like sex objects.

  “Keep
the change.” He eyed her ass as she walked away. He continued, “I’d love to talk to you some more, but I really have to go. Here’s my card. My cell number’s on the back…just in case you wanna get together some time.” He placed it on the table in front of me and turned his body away, leaving me to chase behind him.

  As I glanced down at the Department of Justice logo, my eyes froze. I didn’t want him to see my dejected expression. “Thanks, Jay,” I said, giving no indication I’d contact him later. “Have a nice night.”

  Before the waitress returned with my drink, I tore Jay’s card in half, placed it on the table, and then started to walk away. Halfway to the door, I felt a tap on my shoulder. Crossing one foot over the other, I pivoted slowly.

  “Excuse me, miss.” The waitress stood in front of me, my drink resting on her tray. “Here’s your dirty ’tini.”

  I removed the drink. “Thanks,” I said faintly.

  The waitress looked around. “So where’s the cutie? I know you didn’t let him get away.” She seemed a little bit too happy to be sincere.

  I didn’t bother responding. Returning to the table, I leaned on the stool, sipped my martini, and ate two of the three olives. Swallowing the third olive almost whole, I noticed a woman drooling in Jay’s face as she fingered his curly, thick hair, kissed his juicy lips, and then strolled toward the door.

  Yeah, she definitely had “free pussy” swaggering in her hips for him, and by the way he nodded while staring at her ass, he was definitely fucking her tonight. It should have been me. Her pussy wasn’t better than mine, so why should she have all the fun?

  Oh, now you want to get mad. If you weren’t so damn passive, he could’ve been yours.

  Since I hadn’t given Jay the option of calling me, I tossed back the remaining Grey Goose, picked up the torn card, and placed it inside my purse. “You may have him tonight, bitch, but tomorrow he’s all mine.”

  CHAPTER 3

  Jay

  I could hear her starting to stir as I zipped up my pants and reached for my shirt across the back of the chair. If I was lucky, she’d stay asleep for the five minutes I needed to button my shirt, slip on my shoes, and head out the door. Unfortunately, luck wasn’t on my side.

  Two seconds later, she lifted her head and began questioning me like she was one of the cops on Law and Order. “Where are you going?”

  I turned toward her just as I finished buttoning my shirt. Her lips were poked out like those of a spoiled child who wasn’t getting her way.

  She sat up slightly, and the sheet fell to her lap, exposing her flawless breasts and tempting dark brown, silver-dollar nipples.

  My eyes drank up their beauty, but I continued to get dressed. If she was anyone else, I would have been removing my shirt, stepping out of my pants, and jumping into the bed headfirst to finish what we’d started late last night. However, she wasn’t someone else; she was Monica, the head bartender at the club.

  Once again she’d proven why she was, by far, the worst piece of ass I’d ever had. Why I was stupid enough to come back to her place last night for a second time, I don’t know, but I’ll tell you this much—she didn’t have to worry about me being this stupid again.

  “Jay, I asked you a question—where are you going?”

  “I’m about to go home,” I replied in a rather vanilla tone.

  “Home?”

  I could hear the shock in her voice as she glanced at the clock radio on the nightstand.

  “But it’s only eight o’clock.”

  I gave her a cross-eyed look. “And…” I slipped my feet in my shoes.

  “It’s Saturday; you don’t have to work. I—I thought we were going to spend the day together.”

  I froze for a second, then smirked as I shook my head. “I don’t know where you got that from. I never told you I’d spend the day with you.”

  “I know, but I figured after last night you might wanna spend some time with me. Go to IHop or something like that.”

  I bent over to give her a kiss, hoping to get out of her apartment without incident. “Look, Monica, I’m sorry, but I got shit to do today, okay?” I was trying not to have an attitude, but it was getting harder because I absolutely hated when someone wasted my time. And last night was a true waste of my time.

  “All right, but how about one for the road?” She kissed me, then pulled back the sheet, exposing the rest of her naked body.

  I couldn’t help laughing.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “You. You’re what’s so funny. Do you really think offering me sex is gonna get me to stay?”

  She gave me this confident smirk, then nodded like she had me wrapped around her fingers. “I don’t think, Jay—I know. Now, get your ass over here so Mama Monica can put this pussy on you like you’ve never had it before.” She gestured with her index finger for me to come closer, but I didn’t budge. She really thought she was the bomb; that wench actually thought her shit was gold. “C’mere, Jay. Stop playing hard to get and come here; you know you want this.”

  I couldn’t hold back any longer. I started to laugh again. It was time to tell her what every brotha before me should have told her long before now. “Look, I don’t know what kind of brothas you’ve messed with in the past, but believe me, you weren’t all that, aw’ight.” I scrunched up my face at the memory and shook my head. “Matter of fact, you were actually pretty pathetic. You ever thought about moving when you’re having sex?”

  Her jaw dropped, and her eyes bulged. I’d just crushed her ego flat as a pancake, and I could see shock, then hurt, and finally anger run across her face.

  “You so full o’ shit, you know that? If I was so fucking bad, why’d you come over here tonight?”

  “You don’t really wanna know the answer to that.”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “Aw’ight, I’ll tell you.” I took a few steps toward the door, just in case she flipped. “The reason I came home with you last night is that I wanted to get laid and I didn’t have any better offers.”

  “Oh, so you got what you wanted, and now you gonna front like it wasn’t good to you.”

  “Got what I wanted? Don’t flatter yourself, Monica—I didn’t even come.”

  “Fuck you! Get out of my house!” Out of nowhere the clock radio went flying across the room, and I had to duck to avoid it. “You trying to tell me you didn’t come.”

  “That’s exactly what I’m saying. And if you don’t believe me, check the condom.” I glanced over my shoulder as I walked out the door. She didn’t move, but I was sure once I was gone she was going to check the garbage can to see if I was lying or not.

  In a way I felt sorry for her. I knew how I felt when I thought a woman didn’t come, but I couldn’t imagine what it was like for a woman to find out she couldn’t make a man come.

  Fifteen minutes later my cell phone rang as I was rolling down Fourteenth Street, headed to the Beltway and my apartment in Alexandria, Virginia. I let my voice mail pick it up because Monica had already called twice and cussed my ass out. The thought that maybe I should have kept my mouth shut about her lack of skills and just avoid her until she got the hint came to mind. Oh well, it was too late now; besides, somebody had to burst that bubble of hers. The girl was absolutely clueless.

  The phone rang again. This time I was going to let her know that I knew just as many four-letter words as she did. I pushed the TALK button and yelled, “Will you stop fucking calling!”

  There was silence for a few seconds. Then I was surprised by a voice that wasn’t angry, didn’t scream, and, more importantly, wasn’t Monica’s. “If you didn’t want me to call, why you give me your number?”

  “Huh? Who is this?”

  “Obviously, it’s not the person you thought it was, Jay,” the woman on the other end teased.

  I glanced at the caller ID on the phone, and it read TEXAS.

  “Okay, you had your little fun; stop playing games. Who is this?”

  “I guess you give
your number to so many women, you can’t keep track of them. You don’t have a clue who this is, do you?”

  Damn it. I hated when women played these games, especially when they were right. I didn’t know anyone with a 713 area code. Then again, she could’ve used a calling card. “Look, I’m not having the best of days, so whoever this is, can you please just tell me who you are?”

  “It’s Ashlee, Jay.”

  “Ashlee? Ashlee who?”

  The woman sighed; I think I was starting to frustrate her. “Ashlee Anderson. We met last night at the club. You rescued me from the guy with the big head, remember?”

  A lightbulb went off in my head. “Oh, that Ashlee. Well, why didn’t you say so?” A smile crept up on my face. “How you doing, Ashlee?”

  I was glad she called, though, because I’d all but given up on her after she spotted me leaving the club last night with Monica. Ashlee was one classy-ass lady and, in all honesty, the only woman I’d met that deserved my time since I’d moved to D.C.

  “I’m doing all right, but I’m a little bored. I was wondering if you could tell me some of the fun things to do in D.C.”

  “I can show you better than I can tell you. Why don’t I pick you up this afternoon and show you around? I haven’t lived here long, so we can do the ‘tourist thing’ together, you know. Go to the Washington Monument, the White House, the Smithsonian, and that kinda stuff. What do you think?”

  There was silence on her end, like she was contemplating my offer. “I don’t know, Jay. I was really planning on spending some time alone; I’ve got a lot of things to think about.”

  “Come on, Ashlee. I’ll even throw in dinner. How about Legal Seafood? I know you like seafood, don’t you?”

  “Of course I do; I love fish but I don’t eat shellfish.”

  “Well, all right. Then it’s a date.”

  “Okay, but I don’t want you to get the wrong impression—this is not a date; I am not looking for a man, and I am nobody’s one-night stand.”