Fly on the Wall (12 page)

“How is his overall focus in class?”

“He has tremendous focus.”
That's right; he won't take his eyes off of me.
“He's very attentive, and extremely structured.” Theo's extremely structured body demanded most of my attention in class is what I meant.

“What about his participation?”

“Well, he never volunteers, but if I call on him, he knows the answer.” Before she started to worry, I continued. “Most male students are that way, though. You won't know what they know until you ask them.”

“What about his conduct?”

The rose that he gave to me earlier that day came to mind. “He is an absolute, perfect gentleman.”

“I should know that just by the number of girls calling this house all hours of the night.” She giggled. “I thought you were one of them.”

I was let down. “He's a popular guy,” I faked enthusiasm.

“Oh my God, tell me about it,” she exclaimed. “These little girls won't stop. They won't leave him alone. They will do whatever it takes, honey.”

I felt stupid. “Really?”

“Yes, and that is exactly why I stay on top of him about his education and basketball.” She continued. “Education first, basketball second. They should be his main focus. Women will be around forever, but this opportunity is something that is given once in a lifetime. If he messes this up, he'll regret it for the rest of his life.”

“That's true.”

She giggled. “Well, I'm happy to hear that he's doing all right in your class.” I was glad that the interrogation was done. “He has my consent to attend your get-together, but knowing him, he may be hanging with his friends this weekend, so he'll have to let you know.”

“Oh, well, thank you so much.”

“Please, call me if there is ever a problem or just to let me know that he's doing all right.”

“I will,” I said.

“Have a good night.”

“You do the same.” I hung up and sighed. “Damn. ”

Mr. Popular had girls calling all the time. What was I thinking? Depressed, I got into bed and wrapped myself up tightly like a taco. With the television remote control, I flipped through channels until I saw the ending of the local news. Then it was on to infomercials, and then on to an outrageously gay guy on one of those shopping channels selling women's shoes.

I turned off the TV, hoping to fall asleep, but I wasn't tired. Lustful thoughts were plaguing me. Ten minutes later, I reached into my nightstand and pulled out that familiar yellow sock. I untied it, and out fell Mr. Bumpy, my six-inch, lime green, glow-in-the-dark, soft-studded vibrator. Yes, I was among the millions of women who wouldn't dare confess to having one, yet I couldn't imagine my life without one.

I turned it on and watched it glow. The batteries were new, so this was going to be a great night. There was nothing worse that a dildo with half-dead batteries . . . that was enough to make a grown woman cry. Years ago, it was all right for a woman to walk into a convenience store and purchase a single battery. Maybe she had a pager. Nowadays, if a woman buys a single battery or even a packet of four, a vibrator is the first thing that goes through the clerk's mind, and more than half the time, he's probably right.

I reached down and placed its head on my chief knob, the headquarters of all of my pleasure, my epicenter. “Mmmm.” I closed my eyes and pressed down a little harder. Though I couldn't stand Craig, during these moments, he was useful. It was always good to think of our sex. The thought of it, along with Mr. Bumpy, drove me crazy. “Mmm.” My breathing picked up as I pictured Craig on top of me with my thighs bent toward my breasts and my feet on his shoulders. When that thick, spit-shined chocolate pole traveled the walls of my cave, I was guaranteed to feel everything he was born with, his pulsation, every vein, bump, and bruise. Shit, even his skin packed weight.

“Fuck me,” I whispered in the darkness when my imagination shifted from Craig to Theo. My clit bulged and trembled when I thought of his tall and firm frame over me. “Oh, yes, yes, yeah,” I mumbled and fantasized about his sexy brown eyes rolling back into his head . . . he couldn't handle the thirty-two years behind this good pussy. “Oh, oh shit,” I cried as he bit into his bottom lip, now masking his smile.

Still in my mind, sweat poured from Theo's brow, not from the basketball court, but from running the length of my body. “Fuck me.” My pussy was the kind he'd thought about when he masturbated, never thinking it could truly exist. “Oh my God.” I pushed Mr. Bumpy into me harder. “Yesssssss.” My breathing escalated as Theo, in my mind, kissed me and drilled deeper into me, filling me, and I could hold back no longer. I ground into him and groaned so loudly that I didn't hear the phone ringing until it was already on the third ring and the answering machine was about to activate.

“Hello?” I picked up, exhausted and incoherent.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

Theo asked, “Were you sleeping?”

“No.” I lay helpless. My lower lips were still humping air and my stomach was heaving. “No, I wasn't asleep.”

“Are you okay?” he asked, guarded.

“Yeah, I'm just a little out of breath,” I lied. “I ran from the kitchen to answer the phone.”

“I know that you called back earlier,” he chuckled. “Sorry for the interference.”

“No problem.”

“Thanks for the accolades with my mom.” He then asked, “What do I owe you?”

I joked, “You could never pay me what all of that was worth.”

“I'll try, though.”

I was still trying to get myself together, and wasn't sure of what to say to him. “Are you done with your homework?”

“Whoa, slow your roll. That's not your job. I have someone who asks those types of questions already.”

“Okay, so what types of questions should I ask?”

“Questions you'd ask a friend.”

“Well,” I changed my approach, “how was your day?”

“It was a rough day at the office,” he joked. “Naw, my day was cool until I got to my last class.”

“Oh yeah? What happened?”

“Well, there's this chick in my class that I'm trying to figure out.” He paused. “She's a little intimidating, but approachable.”

“What makes her approachable?”

It took him a while to continue. “The way her eyes always say yes to me.”

I haven't heard that before.
“What do you mean?” “She's not completely comfortable with me or the idea of us maybe, somehow, someday being more than just friends, so she throws me curve balls, grenades, anything she can get her hands on.” He laughed. “But her eyes always say what's really on her mind.”

“And what's that?” I had to see if he really knew what he was talking about.

“Well, in her mind she's asking, ‘Why or how can I be attracted to his guy? How could I show him that I'm interested without going overboard, without others knowing, and how do I know to take him seriously?' She contemplates, ‘I wonder if he'd be good to me?' Then her eyes reveal the answer, which is always yes.”

“Interesting.”

“Am I right?” he asked with a smile in his voice.

“Just a little.”

“Just a little, huh?”

“Yep,” I lied.

“Just keep saying yes,” Theo said. “I promise you won't regret it.”

Theo and I talked for hours. When we hung up, my clock read 4:12
A.M.
During our conversation, I learned that there was more to him than just the star basketball player we knew and loved at school. Theo had to be from another planet; he wasn't like any other eighteen-year-old that I knew. He had his future mapped out and was doing whatever he could to make it possible. I knew many forty-year-old men who were still confused about their futures or didn't realize that they were already living the lives they would lead forever.

Because of his local notoriety, Theo was already a role model, speaking to young people at various churches and community functions about finding, becoming a part of, and being passionate about something, anything that would make them feel complete.

Whenever he had free time, Theo went to middle school basketball practices and games. He did this because he remembered being that age and not having anyone rooting for him. His mother had to work and his father was MIA—a Muthafuckin' Inconsiderate Asshole was Theo's definition of the acronym. Though in denial, Theo was still in a lot of pain over his father's exit.

He shared so many notable things about himself that by the end of our conversation, he felt the need to prove to me that he wasn't an angel. He told me about some perilous adventures he survived earlier in life, and also admitted to a few not so bad things, including drinking occasionally. But he had never thought of experimenting with any drugs. I learned more than I expected to ever know about him, and was already hungry for more.

E
n route to my locker, I saw Trese standing in front of it. I paused for a second but continued anyhow. I had nothing to fear. The clock had stopped, and the game was over.

“What's up?” I asked.

“Can we talk for a minute?”

“About what?” I asked.

She hung her head. “'bout why I did what I did.”

“You don't have to explain.” I didn't want to hear what was sure to be a sob story.

“I want to.”

I took a deep breath and began dialing the combination to the lock. “I'm listening.”

“Well, in the beginning, I really thought that I was,” she paused, “and when I found out that I wasn't, I didn't know how to tell you.”

I interjected. “I wasn't exactly thrilled about the situation, so you should've jumped hurdles to come and let me know.”

“I know,” she sighed, “I know, but as long as you thought that I was, I felt that we'd have to be associated in some way.” Her voice lowered. “I knew that if I told you, things would really be over.”

I asked, “Didn't you think I deserved to know, though?” Trese needed to see a psychiatrist.

“Yeah, I thought that.” She wouldn't look directly at me. “But you are the best thing to ever happen to me. I didn't want to lose you.”

I didn't know what to say. “What?”

“Theo, I've never met anyone like you. You respected me, took me out, and talked to me.” I saw a tear slide down her cheek. “Guys are normally just trying to get me in bed.” She said, “I mean, we did it pretty early, but that wasn't you . . . it was me. It was what I was used to.” She wiped the tear away. “So, it was me who fucked up. I thought as long as you thought I was pregnant, we could work on having something together.”

“Naw.” I felt sorry for her, and decided to take the blame. “Naw, it's not you, it's me. At this point in my life, I can't do this. You're a great girl, Trese, but I have a lot on my plate, and I need to stay focused.”

“Is it that you don't want a girlfriend or you don't want
me
as a girlfriend?”

I thought about her question, and didn't know how to answer her without crushing her feelings. “I don't have the time or energy it would take for us to be in a relationship.”

“So it
is
me.” She was embarrassed.

“No, it's just that I have no time to be in a relationship with you.”

“But you have the time for sex?” she asked and then regretted it. “You don't have to answer that.” She paused. “I just wanted to say that I was sorry.”

“All right.”

“Do you forgive me?”

“I don't know, Trese.” I searched my locker for my English book.

She frowned. “I was gonna tell you the truth.”

“When?” I asked.

“I don't know.” I believed her. She didn't know because she hadn't planned on telling me. She was still on a mission to have my child. Trese wanted to benefit through what she thought my future would be like. She wanted to live a ghetto fabulous lifestyle through child support checks from a ball player. Her intentions were probably to drown herself in Gucci, Prada, and Versace outfits while the kid was suffering from WFS, Wal-Mart Fashion Syndrome.

“Well, what's done is done.” I wanted our little talk to be done.

“True.” She smiled. “So, from here on out, I promise that we will only do it with condoms.”

“Whoa!” I couldn't have heard her right. “What?”

“Condoms,” she said. “We won't mess around without them.”

“No.” I had to knock the ball out of the park. “No more. We're not messing around anymore.”

“Why?”

“Why?” I asked and then continued. “I just told you that we're not going to be a couple, so you should want more for yourself.” I paused and closed my locker. “You shouldn't want to sleep with me or any dude that tells you that he has no plans of being in a relationship with you.”

She rolled her eyes. “I understand what you're saying, but I'm a big girl, and if you say that we can still do it and just be friends, then I can handle it.”

“That's exactly what I
don't
want.” I wanted someone who would never compromise her morals for me.

“That's what you said you wanted when we met.”

“Well, that's not what I want anymore.” I had to say something; she wouldn't go away. “Plus, I met somebody.”

“When?” She got louder. “Who?”

“It doesn't matter when or who.”

“Yes, it does.”

“Why does it matter?”

She calculated. “Because it's Wednesday, and I was just at your house on Friday after the dance.”

“So?”

“So you had me at your house.”

“Yeah, but I took you to my crib for one reason.”

“I know.” She snatched her bag from the ground. “You're a fuckin' dog.”

“I took you to my house to find out if you were pregnant or not.” I looked her up and down and said, “And you're not.”

“Yeah, but more than just that happened, though.”

I cringed. “We didn't do anything.”

“Yes, we did,” she said. “You ate my pussy, in case you forgot.”

“That doesn't mean we did it.”

“Whateva!” She was upset. “Who is she?”

“Why?” I asked.

“Fuck you!” she screamed and began walking away. “Fuck her, too.”

I tried to select my words carefully, but decided that whatever came out was what she deserved. “Fuck you, too, and don't say shit else to me after this.”

“Whateva!”

“Whateva my ass. I'm serious.” I looked at my watch and realized that though I still had three minutes to make it to English, I needed to hurry. I started running up the stairs, but there was no way I could be late to class and then practice again.

“Theo.” I heard someone yelling my name. “Theo, wait up.”

I turned around and saw Angela Porter in her purple-gold-and-white cheerleading uniform running a few paces behind me. She caught up with me and stayed with me.

“Trying not to be late, huh?” I asked.

“You know it.” She laughed and trotted alongside me. “I can't get a detention.”

I joked, “True, 'cause you're a good girl.”

“At times.” She winked at me and we continued jogging. With every strut, Angie's breasts jumped, jingled, and jangled. They seemed soft, full, and ripe. I was tempted to hold them up for her.

She asked, “Are you going to the pool party?”

“Yeah. You?”

“Yeah.” The classroom was in sight, so we transformed our then slow run to a fast walk. “Can I catch a ride with you?”

“Huh?” I didn't see that coming.

“Can I ride with you to the party on Saturday?”

I smiled. “White Boy Johnny can't take you?”

“Of course,” she blushed, “but I'm asking you.”

“It's like that?”

“Yeah, unless you're bringing Trese.”

“Trese?” I was offended. “Don't even try me like that.”

“Isn't that your girl?”

“Naw, we were just friends.” I felt compelled to go on. “But now we're not even cool no more.”

“So, can I ride?” she asked.

“It depends.” My mind went into “man mode.” When anything slightly sexual is introduced in conversation, a man can't be held responsible for what he says. “I might be driving something else.”

It turns out that Angie wasn't Ms. Innocent U.S.A., like I thought. “I'll ride anything,” she said.

“Well, I think I have just the thing for you.” I lagged behind so that I could get a better view of her ass in that short skirt. “Yeah, you can ride with me.”

“What time should I expect you?” Angie asked as she opened the door to the classroom. Immediately, I saw Paige, and it seemed as if my conversation with Angie had happened months ago. She was stunning. Leaning against the front wall in a sophisticated black pants suit, her long black mane was draped over her shoulders, and even if I were blind, I'd know she was there . . . I could smell her fragrance.

“What time are you going to pick me up?” Angie asked again.

I looked away from Paige and tried to whisper, “I'll let you know later.”

“Okay.” Angie was talking way too loud. “You want my number?” With those words, Paige shot me an I-knew-you-were-a-liar look.

“Um, on Saturday.” I had to fix the situation quickly. “The party starts at four.” I spoke loudly on purpose. “I'll pick you up at three-thirty. Just give me your address and the directions.”

“Cool.” She smiled. “Is that all you want?”

Damn! I couldn't look like I was excited or encouraging her. “That'll do the trick.”

“I'll give it to you after class then.” Angie walked away to her desk.

After the bell rang, Paige didn't look my way. She stood up from the desk and addressed the class. “Good afternoon.” Everything was business as usual.

At the end of class when the room was noisy with the hustle and bustle of some students exiting and others still packing up to leave, Angie approached my desk and handed me a piece of paper that included her name, phone number, and address, along with the word
whenever.

“This is a lot of info,” I joked.

“Well, this is a lot of woman.” She pointed to her physique. “Call me tonight. My father is out of town until Saturday.”

“Okay.” I kept my voice low and smiled as I watched her walk off. The short skirt of her uniform allowed me to again see a hint of her ass cheeks. They rose and fell from left to right, right to left, left to right, then that purple-and-gold splendor disappeared through the door.

“You don't have a detention today.” I was snapped back to reality with the sound of Paige's voice.

“I know.” I stood up

“You're free to go.” She smiled. “I don't want your coach running in here again.”

“Me neither.” I walked over to her, hoping that she didn't see me watching Angie's rear end. “I enjoyed talking to you last night.” I did; it was incredible.

“Yeah, I did too. It's been a while since I've done that.” She blushed. “I was almost late today messing around with you.”

Jokingly, I asked, “Does that mean that we won't talk at night anymore?”

“No.” She brushed some lint from my shirt, or at least she pretended to. “It means that I'll be running late a lot.”

“Word?” I was excited.

“Word.” She smiled. “Get going before you get in trouble about practice.”

“True.” I tightened my grip on my bookbag. “What time can I call you?”

“After nine.”

“Cool.” I stared at her lips as she did the same to mine. I reminisced about how close we came to kissing yesterday, but with the door not locked today, I couldn't take the chance. “I need to get to the gym.”

“All right,” she continued sarcastically, “I'm sure that your personal cheerleader is waiting.”

“It's not even like that.” I smiled, but promised her with my eyes.

“I'm just kidding.” She smiled. “I'm not trying to get into your business.”

“Yeah, right.”

“I'm not,” she insisted.

“There is no business.” I felt like I owed her an explanation. “Angie asked me for a ride to your house on Saturday.”

“You could've fooled me,” she said. “It seems like she wanted another type of ride.” A woman's intuition is always right.

“Those rides are reserved.”

“For whom?”

“For . . .” I winked at her, “for a more
experienced
rider.”

“Really?” she asked.

My eyes never left hers. “Really.” I wanted her to know that there was nothing shy or boyish about me.

“Hmm.” She had no expression. I didn't know what she was thinking until she said it. “Should she bring her own saddle?”

“Yeah, because my horse bucks sometimes.” I walked toward the door. “He's a bit on the wild side.”

“Well, I'm sure that he can be tamed.”

“I'm sure.” I wore that silly smile all the way to the gym and used that giddy, crazy feeling to dominate the court. I felt power in my legs, arms, and fingertips that I couldn't testify to ever feeling before. I was slamming, guarding, stealing, and making shots that left everybody wondering what I had for lunch.

 

 

“So, what do you have planned for us tomorrow?”

She laughed. “Hot dogs and water.”

“It is gonna at least be ice water?” I asked then moved the phone from one ear to the other.

“Nope, water from the pool.”

“Aw, that's wrong. I'm complaining to the school board.”

“Complain,” she said. “The school board can't do a thing. They're not funding this.”

We both laughed. It was Friday night, and I couldn't wait to get to her house the next day. Even though we wouldn't be alone, this would be my first time, other than our brief encounter at Dunkin' Donuts, away from West Dade.

“I'm just kidding. Toni and I are going to barbeque for you guys.”

“Who is he?” I was curious.

“Who?”

“Tony.”