Sexcapades.

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Part 6 of 6 

Tonight, I felt grown. Yes. I was so sure that my new dress was going to do it for me. I was hoping that he did it for me too. I was also wondering if he was still doing it for his ex-girlfriend. No, tonight it was about me. The way this red silk was hugging my body, I was sure to get what I wanted… and how I wanted it.

We drank. I was drunk. We sat at through the Nutcracker performance and I felt peaceful. Actually, I felt a lot of things– you know? Hahaha. He was feeling me too. I knew this because my hand crept up his leg. His eyes told me that he felt me– was feeling me feeling it.

Dinner?

The Mansion. It was beautiful. It was expensive. We walked in and drew eyes. Young, Black and Educated. Yes, it wasn’t because my eyes were low. As we conversed, I giggled all over myself.

“Hey honey…”, she said and kept walking.
Who was she speaking to? She interrupted my thoughts. I was reliving it…
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Flipside of the Game.

by sexalicious.net

Part 5 of 5

She’s been here.

My flight landed at 3pm. As I walked into the house we shared (when I was in town of course)—- something just felt wrong. “We’re going shopping. I want a new bed set and some boxers and shit…” A new bed set? He has two homes, yet today, when I come home, he wants to redecorate. Didn’t I just buy you boxers?

My eyes scanned the room for anything out of place. My tampons were still under the television in his room. My fleece flipflops under the bed. I’d been here two weeks ago and was meticulous about how I placed my things. My Lady Speed Stick was on the nightstand. Well, if the bitch was here, she knows I was too.

“Who’s pink scrunchie?” I asked cooly.
“I picked up my lil sister ye–”

LIE. He picked her up and what? Brought her to the crib… this crib? Hell no, he didn’t. It was comedy at this point really. The lies, the games. He was meticulous too. And he’d better had been. Too bad the motherfucker couldn’t have replaced the sheets before I got here though

He was anxious. Too anxious. I was lost in my own thoughts. I didn’t even hear him telling me how much he’d missed me. You know, cute shit boyfriends say to make you mellow out. We shopped– he shopped. I guess he was intent on making sure I didn’t see any aftermath on his black sheets. Ha, I’d already looked while he pissed. He was though, pissing me off. He, too, was keeping secrets of his own.

“…Lying ass”
“What?”
“Nothing. I just want you to know, if and when I catch you, I’m torching your bed with you and that bitch in it. I’ll put you on prime time at 6 o’clock…”
“Man, I’m not about to—”
“Just so you know.”

I had no time for the bullshit. He’s full of it. I just hope he knew… Setting his ass on fire, is exactly what I’d do. No reservations. No hesitations. Fuck Love.

Mr. Fucking Popularity, I’ll make you a star.

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Can you keep a secret?

Part 4 of 4

“Get in the car!!”
“Shhh… you’re all upset! …You trying to rush me home baby?”

“No, you’re drunk and getting crazy…”
“Oh what-ever. I’m fine. Just a lil loose…”

Ahhh…The room was closed: selective entry only. In one corner on a platform, pictures were being taken. I ducked in a corner. Damn, how many have I had tonight? I checked my legs to make sure they were still crossed. Damn, this dress is failing me tonight. I took another sip. I couldn’t believe I was still rockin after all of these rounds. Secrets were being exchanged. Secrets were being created. I was living in a secret life.

“Let’s go for a walk…”
“No crazy. Where we going? This is my song.”
“Just come on.”
“Ughhh…”

The ratio was not 1:1. If you did not have your play mapped out before stepping on the court, you were definitely riding the bench—and you damn sure wasn’t cheering on your team. Mixed squads on the floor. My mini squad was winning in their own right.

It was dark in this room that I found myself in. A few things glowed in the dark. What does this look like with the lights on?

“I can– can’t see?” Ouch my fucking toe. “Where are we?”
“Shhh…. I want you…”
“What? You better get out of here… move…”

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Walking straight in a circle.

Part 3 of 3

You’re calling more often. Conversation is very informal. We still have very little to talk about. Last night, someone we knew bought a Maserati… on someone else’s bank roll. Trickin and aint got it. Ha.

“Your girlfriend is stalking me…”
“She told me someone sent pictures to the house…”
[insert a laugh]

I did threaten to do that. But I’d never do that. He knows that. She’s forcing her life. Maybe she should work for Disney, I thought. Take up painting? Her imagination is clearly wild. There’s space in our conversation. We just don’t do this very well– you know, dance to a never ending song.

We’re on borrowed time, but never in a rush to go anywhere. How is that possible?

“She’s threatened by you…”
“Why? I promise not to take you…”
[insert a laugh]

I mean, I give him back everytime, right? Why change now? How is this though? Floacist says “… because we caught Feelings.” It can’t work because it’d never work but some how we have worked it out and it’s been working. It doesn’t even feel right. It’s wrong. She blows up your phone. You tell me she’s crazy. Y’all have a family and they miss you. I have space and you want me. ::sigh:: How is that? You embrace me after I loosen my walls. Tell me you love me at the end of our calls. How though? How does this work? When will this end?

When did we decide to expose our secret instead of rocking as friends? Destiny’s Child said, “If you leave…” but you won’t. I know it. Does she know it? No. “Your girlfriend is stalking me.” Someone needs to tell her he’s not going to leave. Where you are– with her– is exactly where you want to be. Does someone need to remind me? No. I don’t want him to leave her. I don’t want to be her– especially since he loves me.

So where do we end? I loosen my walls and toss my body beside you– out of breath. Silence. Sweat. Ceiling. Steam— it was hot. Your phone blinks. Where are my panties? I wonder. She’s calling, I know. Care? I don’t. Your hand creeps up my theigh, arm wraps my hips. Your nose now presses my cheek. I bet he’s leaving…

I stop breathing.

“I love you”, he says.
I exhale.

My body chills. Kitten purrs with a wet nose.
Silence. Ceiling— no.
You…
stay.

Get Familiar.

Sexalicious.net

Part 2 of 2.

Late Night.
I stare at space and find myself lost.
You’re speaking to me.
While speaking to me, declaring you’re not speaking to me.
Is this a conspiracy?
We’re not seeing eye-to-eye.
Missing each other… literally… figuratively.
I don’t know whether to be furious, sad, or baffled.
No… I’m definitely baffled.
But, hey, atleast I know you miss me.

Exhale… smile.
But you’re upset… really upset. You think I’m dissing you. I think you’re dissing me. You know me better than what your mind is telling you to believe now. Diss you— could I, really? If so, wouldn’t I have so many times in the past? Where did we get lost?

I blink rapidly.

The ceiling is there, above me in the dim lights. Where you used to be. I tingle as I remember those nights. I miss you up there, in there, here. Love in this Club remix plays. I’ve had it on repeat for about two days.

Baby you know I’d be down
But we cant have all these people staring standin’ around
This right here is only for your eyes to see
But you getting carried away saying we can do it wherever.

“I Got You”, he says. And now, I’m missing you. You’re missing me. Figuratively and Literally. I tried to sub in an injured reserve. It didn’t work. You’re the only calm I want to make me quiver. And I miss it.

I smile. Atleast, I know you’re missing me, too.
Figuratively, Literally… Sexually?

Yes, definitely.
And now… I grin.

Photo: Sexalicious.net

Late Afternoon

Sexalicious

Why? Because you don’t call like you used to… or when I need you too.

When I don’t answer my phone, you throw a tantrum– especially when I don’t answer it now. Sometimes it’s, “Where were you?” And other times it’s, “I know you’re fuckin with somebody!”

REALLY? Because if I were really fuckin with someone, I wouldn’t be feeling like a cornball for being so upset that YOU didn’t call. It’s been a few days. Don’t you miss me? Don’t you wonder what I’ve been up to? You don’t have anything to talk about— Well, me either really. But don’t you just want to see if I have anything to talk about… just want to hear my voice?

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