by Tiana Laveen
“Look, I’m not the joker, so please cut the riddles.” Goldie grunted and tucked one leg beneath her bottom. “Man or money?”
“Man. Definitely all man… Whew.” Yasmine fanned her face with her hand.
“Awww, shit! So you’ve met your first ex-husband.”
“Girl, stop!” Yasmine smiled. “You are so silly. Look, I know you will hate me for this, and even as close as we are, I am not sure I want to go into all the particulars. I… I may not be ready to discuss it yet.”
Goldie seemed to contemplate what was being said, pondering whether she should force the issue or let the shit go.
“All right,” she finally said. “You seem a little confused, despite stating you’re happy.”
“Honestly, Goldie? I am a little confused. That’s the damn truth right there. I have met someone in a very unconventional way, and he’s totally thrown me for a loop.”
“Fine, tell me about him. As much as you’re comfortable sharing, of course.” Much to Yasmine’s surprise, she didn’t push the issue. In fact, she gave her space to work out her thoughts and feelings. All the sticky emotions she was dealing with.
“Well, he’s an attorney. An accomplished one.”
“All right, all right. Starting off on the right foot.” Goldie nodded in approval.
“From a physical standpoint, he’s really attractive. He is the kind of guy who gets a lot of attention from his looks alone. He stands out in a crowd. It’s not even so much because of his appearance, Goldie, but the way he carries himself. He reeks of confidence. You can just look at him and tell he doesn’t give a shit. It’s amazing, really.”
“I like that… yeah.” Goldie bit her lower lip and her eyes hooded as if she, too, would be dating him. “He sounds like a winner. Back to his looks though, circle back… Give me more details so I can get a visual on this guy.”
“Oh yeah, of course. Quite tall, very well built. Black hair, beautiful hair, and his eyes… these blue eyes of his are amazing… a shade that is so unusual, almost navy but not quite as dark.”
Goldie ran her tongue along her upper teeth and made a sucking sound.
“Yummy. He sounds quite handsome. I take it with those eyes he isn’t a BMW?”
Yasmine shook her head, amused. “Nope. He’s not a Black man working. He’s, uh, Italian-American… with a little Greek.”
Goldie rolled her eyes and gave a light, airy laugh. “That’s all you need to say. End of story.” The woman waved her off and partook in more wine.
“What?!” Yasmine smirked and followed suit. Both placed their glasses back on the coasters. “You had a bad run-in with an Italian guy or something?”
“You’re dealing with a guy who probably thinks he is the shit! Is he from here?”
“Yeah, born and raised.”
“Oh, hell! A Chicago Italian dude, too? Yasmine, them and the New York ones are a complete, utter macho mess. Bravado, machismo for days. Pumped up and out of control. Ya can’t tell them shit.” Goldie laughed so damn hard, her cheeks turned ruddy.
“Oh, come on! That’s a stereotype!” Yasmine quipped, though she knew damn well that in Nixon’s case, every word Goldie was saying fit the bill. The shit was true.
“It may be, but it holds water. They have that whole swag thing, like some of the Black guys we’re accustomed to. It comes to them naturally. I mean, it’s part of their culture. I know they can’t be all pigeonholed like that. We hate it when other people do that to us.” Goldie seemed to backtrack a bit, maybe feeling as if she should be more politically correct. “But they can be a handful. And if their mothers don’t like you, you’re screwed.” So much for backtracking. “Hold up. You know what’s strange?”
“The fact you owe me a hundred bucks from that bet you lost two months ago and still haven’t paid up?”
They both burst out laughing.
“No. You and I have never really talked about dating men of other races. That’s crazy to me!” The woman tapped a finger on her chin.
“What’s strange? That we’ve never discussed it or that maybe we assumed we both have or haven’t?”
“Actually, both.” For a few moments, they sat mulling that thought. “I know you’re attracted to non-Black men because you and I have discussed certain actors and singers we think are hot, and though most of the men we mention are Black, we’ve taken the discussion beyond that.”
“I guess you’re right…” She took another sip of wine.
“Why do you seem green to me?” Goldie smirked.
“Green?!”
“Yeah, new to this. Have you ever dated a man who isn’t Black before now, Yasmine?”
“Yes and no.”
“Don’t do that. Don’t go there.” They both chuckled.
“Let me explain. Yes, I’ve dated them, but never had an actual relationship with any.”
“Sex?”
“Yes… twice.”
“Hmmm… and how was it?”
“Fine. Average, I guess.” Yasmine’s heart dropped to her damn toes. This was the heart of the matter, the crust of the issue. All of her sexual encounters had happened in dull shades of mundane. It didn’t matter the color of the cock. Nixon though turned everything upside down. Knocked her off her feet, gave her orgasms she didn’t think humanly possible, and made her crave and beg for more.
“Okay, so you and I have a rather interesting dating history.” The woman smiled coyly at her. “We both have some hilarious stories about a few of the guys we’ve had relationships with.”
“We’ve done the whole double date thing a few times, too. Sometimes we made up excuses to bail.”
“Yup, and we’ve both dated some interesting men, as well. Of course, you haven’t had your starter-kit first marriage like me.” The woman gave her a smug look, as if she was proud of that shit. “But you were engaged twice, and our courting paths pretty much mirror each other’s. Men are fucking crazy, girl. And so are we.”
They both burst out laughing.
“That’s the realest statement of the night.”
Goldie plumped a beige pillow behind her head and placed her legs on Yasmine’s lap, ankles crossed. She had a mischievous twinkle in her eye.
“What is it? Don’t look at me like that.” Yasmine swallowed her amusement for the umpteenth time, but now it threatened to burst free and betray her in front of company. Wait… I’m the company. I feel at home with Goldie, but the truth of this situation might be too much even for her ass to understand. Open-minded or not. “I’m keeping a secret. You know that I am. I promise if this is more than just a fling, I’ll give you the juicy details.” She blurted out the words, needing to say them, to confess in some special way.
“Shit… you don’t have to tell me anything, girl. But see, I know you want to. You are never one to stumble over your words, to be afraid. This motherfucker must be the truth. The alpha and omega. He has you tongue-tied.”
Heat spread over her face, and her chest ached with excitement. Reaching for the Y gold pendant on her necklace, she twisted and twirled it gently between her fingers.
“Goldie… this man… shit.” She glanced at the plush beige rug that felt so good under her toes. “I’m falling for someone way too fast, Goldie. I told myself to not do this. I was good at not doing this.”
“Sometimes rules are made to be broken.”
“So just throw caution to the wind?”
“Hell, no! But you better learn how to hand glide…”
“Goldie… I’m serious. He’s a problem. On paper, the motherfucker looks good. Dream guy. Wins cases, is hard working, works out, great pad, no kids, never married, sense of humor, actually reads, can have intelligent conversations, knows wine and sophistication but can get down and dirty, too. In the mirror, from a purely aesthetic standpoint, he looks amazing. Tasty eye-candy. I am certain at his firm, where he just made partner, and in court, too, he looks like a million bucks, but baby…” Yasmine closed her eyes as his face appeared in her min
d; the hard chiseled lines of his jaw, his distinct, sexy aroma, and the memory of his lush dick sliding within her love made her body tremble. “He is everything you should run from, Goldie…”
So many emotions flooded to the forefront. Goldie lit a new cigarette and resumed smoking.
“Let me tell you something, Yasmine. I am thirty-seven years old. In our lifetime, we’ve seen more success than many, especially being Black women who didn’t come from shit as far as money was concerned. Somehow, some way, we made a way out of no way – God showed us mercy because we were not supposed to make it, and the odds were stacked against us. But unlike some of our peers, we had parents who cared. They pushed us, set the example and the bar high.” Yasmine sighed in agreement as she crossed her arms over her chest and squeezed herself real tight. “Unlike my mother, though, I messed up. I didn’t pick a good man like my father. Instead, I married the first man who was nice to me… the one who wasn’t cheating on me, for a change. The guy who wasn’t selling drugs, a wanna-be-pimp. I married the guy who had goals in life, right? He came from a nice family. He was a single, handsome Black man with an above average dick and a killer smile that would make a nun drop her panties. He was going places… or so I thought.
“Turns out, he wasn’t a safe bet, either. He grew bored of me and traded me in for a different model. A younger version of myself… fresh outta high school. It wasn’t because he was Black. It was because he was a soulless empty vessel.”
Yasmine hurt for her friend all over again for the pain was still evident in her tone. The destruction of Goldie’s marriage had been so profound and upsetting, it had taken her completely off-guard. Her headstrong, resilient friend had been down for the count not weeks, but eight, long, agonizing months. The experience had wiped her out. One day they were happy, the next day, he came home, packed his shit and was gone.
“I’m not bringing Kenneth up for any reason though. Fuck him and his silly ass girlfriend. I am bringing him up to also say: Look, there’s another lesson to be had here. It’s called life goes on.”
“You didn’t deserve what happened. Watching you emotionally beat up broke my heart, too.”
“I know it did. So please, honey, learn from me. The safe bet isn’t always the best bet. We only live once. I tried that safe shit. It didn’t work. I’m not saying go find you a serial killer to nestle up with, but expand your horizons. You have a habit of being overly-cautious and I get it; you feel protective of the strides you’ve made. But maybe this is a sign to not question everything, Yasmine? A suggestion to not examine shit so hard…” Yasmine had never thought about it that way. Perhaps Goldie was on to something. “You said this man is everything you should run from, but let me tell you something: as long as he isn’t beating your ass, doing something that could cause you to lose your job, or running around on you, why not just go for it? Have the damn experience.”
“That’s just it… I am having the experience. It’s happening, and I feel… I feel like I couldn’t stop even if I wanted to. He’s addictive.”
“Then there’s no issue here.”
“But you don’t even know the details.”
“I don’t have to know the details. I know you.” Goldie stood to her feet, placed her cigarette down, and reached for Yasmine’s hand to squeeze it. Then, she looked deep into her eyes. “You have a good head on your shoulders. Trust yourself. If things get too strange, too scary… you’ll leave. You are one of the few friends in our circle who I can say without a shadow of a doubt that when you see danger afoot, you bounce. But sometimes, playing things too safe makes us miss out on something incredible. Kind of like racing out of the rain into the house, never to see the rainbow moments later because there’s so much fear of getting wet, and never looking up into the sky. I am not saying the hell with the rules of life and common sense, but just trust your gut, Yasmine. Trust the process. I am a firm believer in everything happening for a reason. You know that.”
“Yeah, you are.”
“All I can say, sis, is that I have not seen you smile this much in a long time. So, he may be bad for your status quo and sensibilities, but maybe he’s real damn good for your soul…”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Time to Cum Clean
I have too many fucking personalities,
and I still can’t find myself…
Some of us want to stay lost. I am one of those people. I like it this way. I like me just the way I am, fucked up, flawed and all. I love being a fucked-up individual. I enjoy every part of my dark and twisted nature. Besides, I make people happy. I went to law school and passed the bar the first fucking time – not just for me, but so my family could brag and I could get to work as soon as possible. The money wouldn’t be nearly as great if I didn’t have shit to show for it. I need to make problems go away. It’s my nature.
I like to fix shit.
Like women who can’t cum, and legal snafus.
A guy gets into an auto accident, insurance company won’t pay – I make them pay double. I have several company contracts. I’m the guy a business owner or CEO calls when he’s got a situation on his hands dealing with an accident, workman’s comp issues, all of that shit. People trust me. I’ve earned it. The job has its perks.
Since my salary allows it, I can travel wherever the hell I want to. When I had more time, I was able to meet beautiful women from all over the fucking world. I had my choice of pussy, but no one could tie me down…
Because I can’t be still.
Yeah, I definitely like being lost. Lost is where I’m found.
I never wanted to settle down. The world is too damn big, bold, bad and beautiful to not get thoroughly immersed in. Wanderlust is my middle name. I travel in my mind when I can’t move my feet. I make fantasies come true. A Satyr is a revolting creature… yet coveted. Looked down upon, yet praised. Grotesque, yet stunning. He is one of the ugliest and most beautiful beasts. And that’s me, through and through.
On the inside, I’m depravity personified. I write these little motivational notes to try and cling to the sliver of humanity I have left. There ain’t much, but there’s a tiny light in here somewhere. I didn’t have a fucked-up homelife – can’t blame it on that. Nah, everything wasn’t perfect, but I was fortunate for the most part and I knew it. This is just… who the hell I am. I came into the world twisted and disturbed. I answered to no one. This worked for me.
Then a woman like Yasmine fuckin’ Prince enters the picture… an undercover Nymph.
Nymphs have always been the ruin of Satyrs. They want to constantly fuck, and no one can outfuck a Satyr, except a Nymph. They can withstand a brutal fucking. They can take a big cock in every hole and not complain. They can love you in spite of yourself. They can make you feel like shit, if they reject you…
I am falling for this woman. I have strong feelings for her and it’s like I know everything about her. Her next thought, her moves, her ways… She called me a while ago, and wants me to call her back. I know what it is. She’s going to try to cancel. I bet something came up at work. I can’t let her do that though, because even though it’s probably legit, it’s still a power move on her part. She’s always testing me, whether she knows it or not. It’s subconscious. Yasmine is the type of woman who can’t get off on a man she can manipulate or trick. So this has to be nipped in the bud.
Yasmine is getting out of control…
She’s calling me, demanding things… testing the waters. That happens sometimes, the realization that your life is changing and you have become addicted to something dark and cold. ME.
She’s power hungry. That’s what happens to girls like her. They had to fight all the time to get scraps, and when they are confronted with a guy like me, they still want to wear the pants. But that’s all a lie. She REALLY wants me to discipline her. It makes her feel better when I take her down. Then seal it all with a kiss.
I plucked women like flowers from a garden, grapes from a vine. I found one that was different from the
others…
She saw me coming, she started running, and now she’s cumming…
While deciding what to wear for his date, Nixon grabbed his cell phone off the dressing room counter in his closet and dialed his heart’s number.
“Hey, Nix. Thanks for calling me back so soon.” He pulled out a sock drawer and perused his choices. “Uh, there’s been a change of plans.”
He smirked. So predictable. I know her so well.
“Are you still coming by?” He feigned ignorance. “We’re supposed to go out this evening, then come back to my place.” He selected a gray pair of socks.
“Unfortunately, no.” She sighed. “I was really looking forward to it, baby, but I have to work late tonight. I just found out an hour ago. Sorry for the last-minute notice but there’s a really big case, the one I discussed with you briefly this morning. That’s what I was calling about. Let’s see, damn… it’s almost 7:00 PM now, and I’m still here. It’s going to be a while, too. In fact, almost everyone is still here and I have no doubt that it’ll almost be midnight before I head out.”
“I never gave you permission to cancel.” He glanced at his cologne display. The Bleu De Chanel would be good tonight…
“Nix, this isn’t the time for this.” He could almost see her rolling her eyes. “I really need—”
“You don’t tell me what the fuck time it is. You don’t try to put me in my place. We had an agreement. You are supposed to call and ask me if you can cancel our dates. You didn’t follow the rules.”
“You can punish me later.” She giggled, like it was some joke. “So, let’s see about tomorrow for lunch. I can—”
“No. This isn’t a game. This isn’t funny. I have a tight timeline to work with here. We’ve already dug into the two months and any adjustments that need to be made have to be discussed first and agreed upon. You will see me this evening. You will bring your ass over here like we planned. I will give you an additional hour, and then—”
“No, Nixon. This is my job!” He drew quiet and began to pace. “Stop it. I really have to get this done.”
