Fly on the Wall (7 page)

“I think he's dropping me home.” I tried not to blush.

“You think?”

I explained, “We talked about going dancing earlier, but I think we did enough here. Plus, it's quarter to one.”

She giggled. “I know your kind. You're going to get some.”

“Shh,” I shushed her. “Let me get out of here.”

“Call me in the morning with details,” she tried to whisper. “I want length, width, circumference, coloration, and all that shit.” She was dead serious.

“Bye, Toni.”

“Bye, girl.” She turned to walk back to her remaining guests. “Circumference,” she yelled back to me.

In the doorway, as Doran and Marcus shook hands, he looked my way. “Ready?”

“Yeah.” I gave Marcus a hug and a smile. “Goodnight, birthday boy.”

“You guys drive safely,” Marcus said as he let us out and closed the door.

“I recognize this neighborhood,” Doran said as we walked to his car. “My apartment is only about five minutes from here.” He paused. “How about going back to my place for a while?”

Think of something to say . . . and say it.
“Sure.” Damn, playing hard to get just got thrown out of the window.

 

 

We were at Doran's place in about three minutes. The apartment was nice, very nice, so nice that I had to ask, “Who did the decorating?” It looked like the works of a woman. Shit, what wasn't supposed to match was matching, there wasn't a speck of dust anywhere, and the place smelled like a rose garden.

“My roommate,” he said and walked into the kitchen, leaving me on the sofa. “Would you like something to drink?”

“Yes. What do you have?” I never heard anything about a roommate.

“Apple juice, Coke,” he paused as he moved things around, “orange juice and Chardonnay.” I don't care what others may say. I believed that if unrelated people of the opposite sex lived under one roof, they were fucking. Even if they didn't call themselves a couple, and even if one was ugly as sin, the booty was too convenient to pass up.

“Chardonnay, please.” I looked around. “So, is your roommate here?”

“Naw, he's at work,” he said.

I had to hear that again. “I'm sorry, I didn't hear you.”

“No, he's not here. He works nights at the hospital.”

“Oh, okay.” His roommate was a man. Whew! That brought much relief.

Doran soon joined me on the sofa and handed me my glass of wine. “Thank you.” He sat next to me, and with the click of the remote, Kelly Price's “Married Man” was playing. “Whoa,” I joked, “is that a sign?”

“I'm not married.” He showed me his fingers then draped his hand over my shoulder. “Did you have a good time tonight?”

“Yes, I did.” I sipped my wine nervously. “Thank you for joining me.”

He looked at me intently. “It was my pleasure.”

An hour, two glasses of Chardonnay and many laughs later, Doran and I were splayed out across the sofa horizontally. Though we were fully clothed, our lips and tongues were naked and in a feverish lock. His breathing turned me on more than the feel of his hands over my body. Doran was attractive enough to have a different woman every day and another one at night. However, his trembling hands and anxious actions told a different story.

In a flash, he pulled my V-cut top to the side and out popped my breast. He looked at my piercing. “That is so damn sexy.” The sensation of his warm tongue on my nipple took me by surprise and I jumped up. “Shouldn't we go into your room or something?” For the past seven years, the only man to touch me was Craig.

“You want to?”

I stuttered, “I-I don't want anyone walking in on us.”

“That won't happen, but,” he stood up, “just give me a minute.”

When Doran disappeared down the dark corridor, I thought about what I was doing. I just wanted to be touched, to feel wanted and pleasured. My last “fling” was with Craig six months ago, and I was in desperate need of a good time with someone other than my ex-husband. However, I wanted to feel something more than a dick. With Doran, I knew that I would be getting all dong and no ding. If I wanted to feel cheap, I still had Craig's number.

“Follow me,” Doran said when he returned.

I tried to smile. “Actually, I think I better just have you take me home. It's already two in the morning.”

He walked toward me. “Was I too forward?”

“No.” I shook my head and stood up. “You've been great. I just don't know if we should do anything to ruin the evening.”

“Nothing can ruin tonight.” He grabbed my hand.

“To be honest with you,” I continued, “we still don't know each other all that well, Doran.”

“Well, let's get to know each other.” He smiled. “You can ask me anything you want.”

“Yeah, but it's getting late and I—”

“Shh.” He quieted me. “Stop making excuses and just let it happen.” With my hand in his, he gently pulled me and started walking. Right before entering the hallway, he hit a switch that left the entire apartment in darkness, all except a glow from the opened door straight ahead that led the way.

He stopped right in front of the bedroom door. “So, do you seriously want to go home or do you want to get to know me?” He kissed my hand. “We can talk all night, and you can ask me anything you like.”

As the soft light flickered on his face, I found peace in his eyes somehow. “What's your favorite color?” My choice was to stay.

“Green,” he answered as we entered the room.

“Lucky number?”

He thought for a few seconds. “I'd say nine.”

Tiny candles were on both nightstands, where nothing else stood. The walls were white and bare. The whole room was too plain and empty to be a room where someone lived daily. There was a full-size bed, nightstands and a dresser with a lamp on it, and a small computer desk with an older model PC on it.

“Is this your room?”

“Something like that,” he said as he closed the door behind him.

“Where's all of your stuff?” I looked around again.

“In my office in one of the rooms down the hall.” He sat on the bed and pulled me to stand between his legs. “I hate for things to look junky, so I keep everything in there.”

“Wouldn't that make your office junky?”

“No, I have a lot of file cabinets.” He laughed then moved his hand to my ass. “Any other questions?” he asked.

“Tons.” I smiled.

“Ask away.” He pulled me down to him. I straddled him, my legs on both sides of his.

I asked, “What's your sign?”

“Sagittarius.”

“When is your birthday?”

“December eighteenth.” He pulled my shirt over my head. I continued my questioning to keep myself from fainting. “What year?”

He reached behind me to unhook my bra. “Nineteen sixty-eight.”

I reached over and unbuttoned his shirt and brought it over his head. I sighed with pleasure. I saw him without a shirt every time we left the gym, but never expected to get a chance to touch it. I did one better; I kissed his chest.

“What do you like about me?” I asked when I raised my head.

“I thought you'd never ask.” He palmed my breasts. “These.”

I slapped him playfully on the shoulder. “I'm serious, Doran.”

“And so am I.” He mimicked a breastfeeding infant, sucking on them. “I love piercings.”

“Thank you.” My sunbursts weren't as large as Janet's; they were about as round as a quarter. That was the only thing he liked about me? I was offended. What about my personality, my smile, my eyes, and the way I lit up a room when I walked in? Feeling a little unappreciated, I hopped off of his lap and sat next to him instead.

He kneeled down in front of me then pushed me backward onto the bed and rubbed me through my panties. “I love shaved pussy.” He pulled my thong aside and with too much aggression, he ran his thick, dry finger into me like a car.

“Ouch.” I was startled.

“You're a big girl. You can take it.” He continued with his finger. “Can't you?”

“Yeah, but there is a gentle way to do things.”

“I'm sorry.” He stopped but started rubbing me again. “You just feel so good.”

There was something wrong with the situation. I was getting no thrill from Doran's touch. However, I didn't grumble as he pulled my body to the edge of the bed and savored, licked, taunted, and pierced my fruit with his tongue. When he was done, he fought to remove his pants so that we could complete the process, but instead I heard the front door close and it was followed by a voice.

“Dori.”

“Fuck.” He froze.

I jumped up and asked, “Who is that?”

“Oh shit,” he said and tried to pull his pants back up. “Get dressed.”

I stood up. “Who is that?”

“Just get dressed.”

I was terrified as I tried to find my clothes. “Who
is
that?”

“Fuck, man,” he whispered with his hands on his head, then rushed over to the old computer and switched on the monitor. “It's my roommate.”

“So, what's the big deal?”

“I shouldn't have company.”

“Why not?” I asked.

“Dori.” The voice got closer and seemed concerned. “Doran?” The hallway light was now shining under the door.

Doran didn't have the balls to answer his roommate or me. “Damn, damn, shit.” He turned on the lamp, gathered my things, and threw them at me. “Get into the closet and get dressed.” He opened the closet door.

“Closet? You need to tell me what's going on.” I could hear my heart beat. “I thought you weren't married.” I was confused.

“I'm not.” He raced around the room and blew out both candles.

“Then why in the hell are you telling me to go into the fuckin' closet?”

“Doran, where in the hell are you?” The voice was angry. “And who in the fuck is Paige? Yeah, bitch, I got your purse.” I had left my purse in the living room. “Doran, answer me.”

“Paige, please just go in the goddamn closet.” He struggled to get his shirt on. “I'll explain later.”

“No, just get my purse and get me the hell outta here.” I couldn't do anything, including getting my bra to hook properly, but anything that wasn't done wasn't getting done. There was a heavy thump on the door and then it swung open.

“What in the fuck is this?” A tall, thin, light-skinned man launched at Doran and slapped him in the face several times. “What in the fuck are you doing?”

“Baby, I can explain.” Doran tried to grab the man's hands. “Wait.”

“I cannot believe this,” the man yelled and fell against the door like he would faint. “Oh my God.”

Doran stood in front of him. “It's not what you think, baby.”

“Get the hell out of my face.” He pushed Doran to the ground. “I am so through with you.” He walked toward me but stopped halfway. “Who are you?”

“Paige.” I pointed to the purse in his hand. “I didn't know that he was seeing someone, or was even gay, for that matter.” I was scared as hell. I wasn't about to fight a dude over another dude. “He told me that you were just a roommate.”

“You have the nerve to bring a motherfucker to our place?” The man was in tears. “Get the fuck out.”

“Wait a minute.” Doran was back on his feet. He looked at me and winked. “She's not telling you everything.” He continued. “I brought her here to work on this computer. She's a computer programmer.” He paused. “We came in here to look at it, and she started stripping and touching me and shit.” He added, “It all happened so quickly that I got caught up in watching her, but you know I don't want no damn woman.”

I was humiliated. “So, I just knew where you kept your candles, too, huh?” I wasn't stopping there. “The only hard drive you wanted me to look at was in your pants.” I looked at his lover. “I don't know shit about computers. I work at the same school where he works, and he's been trying to sleep with me for a month.”

“C'mon baby, look at her.” Doran pointed at me in disdain. “Do you really think that I would sleep with her?”

Embarrassed
wasn't the word for me. “You ate my pussy, Doran,” I said.

“Bitch, you wish.” Doran looked like he would spit on me.

“Smell his breath.” I was pissed. “Smell his breath.”

“You are such a liar.” The crying man didn't buy Doran's version of the story, and backed him up into a corner. “You lying bastard. I move you down here, and this is what you do to me,” he screamed. “Get the fuck out.” He punched Doran over and over again.

During the fight, I grabbed my purse and tiptoed past them. I quickly threw on my clothing in the hallway and walked out of the apartment, still in shock. On my cell phone, I called the only person besides drunk-ass Toni who lived on that side of town. In ten minutes, the candy apple red Lincoln Navigator pulled up to the gas station I had walked to.

“What in the hell are you doing out here without your car?” Craig asked as I got into the truck.

“Just drive,” I said.

He offered advice. “You gotta be careful about who you deal with.”

“Yeah, someone should've told me that before I met you,” I said. “I didn't call you because I needed someone to talk to. I need a ride.”

We rode in silence until we arrived at my house. “Thank you.” I handed him ten dollars as he pulled into the driveway. “This is for your gas.”