Authors: Mary B. Morrison

He's Just A Friend (11 page)

BOOK: He's Just A Friend

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Now that was someone who knew everything there was to know about sex. “You know how Fancy is. She's probably met a new sponsor for her horseback excursions or something.” SaVoy laughed. “I'll call her in a few. Have fun and tell William I said hello.” There was no reason for SaVoy to be upset with William. He hadn't mistreated Tanya.

SaVoy placed her psychology textbook on the counter. She picked up the phone and dialed Fancy's number. SaVoy's eyes widened. The corners of her mouth spread to opposite ends. Before the first ring, SaVoy quickly hung up.

“Hey, you,” Tyronne said, then licked his lips. “How's your little college course coming along?” Tyronne stood in front of the counter, spread his legs apart, and folded his arms across his well-defined chest. He was her superhero. His biceps protruded perfectly under his loose-fitting short-sleeve uniform. Tyronne's upper body was shaped like a cobra. His back was muscular. Strong. Wide. His incredible waist was small and flat.

SaVoy didn't care that Tyronne had dropped out of college, but why did he minimize her efforts? Fortunately she'd learned in psychology not to take things personally.

“I heard you stopped by earlier. I was surprised because it's Monday. But I'm always happy to see you.” SaVoy smiled again.

“Wow. Is that what you learned in college today? It's Monday.”

SaVoy became quiet and looked at Tyronne.

“Aw, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend your three point eight GPA. But you do look cute when you're upset.” Tyronne walked behind the counter and opened his arms, offering a hug.

Tyronne's hug was tighter and lasted longer than usual. SaVoy's heartbeat quickened as her hands gently rubbed his back. Did Tyronne intentionally thrust his pelvis deep into her abdomen? His unbelievably huge bulge pressed against her belly button. Quickly SaVoy stepped back.

Tyronne laughed and asked, “You okay?”

Noticing the imprint of Tyronne's penis was larger than she'd imagined, SaVoy looked away. Were her eyes deceiving her? Or did that outline extend from between Tyronne's legs up to his belt buckle? Tyronne's head bobbed. He licked his lips and smiled. A customer entered the store so Tyronne walked back to the other side of the counter.

“How much for the AAA batteries? Four pack,” the customer asked.

SaVoy wanted a second look at Tyronne's privates for verification but didn't want to appear obvious. Focusing on the customer, she answered, “Four ninety-nine plus tax,” and removed a pack from the wall behind her and handed them to the customer.

“Damn, that's highway robbery.” The customer flipped the package over and stared at the price.

Tyronne said, “That's why it's called a convenience store, my brother. By the time you drive to the supermarket or drugstore, park your car, stand in lineâand hope they have them on sale . . .” Tyronne raised his hand. “But. If they don't, you still gon' spend four dollars. You might as well go on and get the batteries now.”

“Yeah, that's true. But she need to lower the price.”

SaVoy placed his receipt and batteries in the bag. “Thanks. Come back again.”

“I can't stand cheap ass niggas,” Tyronne said after the guy left the store.

SaVoy stared at Tyronne, wondering why she was so attracted to him.

“I'm sorry, I mean cheap ass men.”

SaVoy chose her words carefully and acknowledged Tyronne's efforts. “Thank you, Tyronne. That's better.” SaVoy wasn't trying to change Tyronne but she realized if she encouraged his poor choice of words, Tyronne might start using profanity. Even worse, one day he might decide to use a few of those nasty words on her.

“I need your female perspective. Um, umm.” Tyronne covered his mouth and cleared his throat. “Do you think a brother like myself should take a woman to see Michael Baisden's
Men Cry in the Dark
?”

“Yeah, of course. Why not?” SaVoy grinned. She'd been so busy, all she had time to do was talk about going to the play. Fancy was going with Byron. Tanya was going with William. Desmond was taking Carlita. Seemingly she was the only one who didn't have tickets or a date.

“It's not one of those mushy type plays with men in tights dancing across the stage? Or women puttin' brothas down, is it?” Tyronne struck a familiar heroic pose with his arms folded high across his chest.

“No, Tyronne. You'll like it. So, who are you taking?” Vanessa once told her never to assume anything when dealing with men.

Casually, Tyronne said, “A friend. You don't know her.”

SaVoy's smile faded. “Oh, I see.” SaVoy's voice was flat. “Well, I'm sure she'll enjoy the play.”

“She's just a friend. Always complaining I don't take her anywhere. Thanks for the tip. Now, if I don't like the play you know I'm gon' fire you on Wednesday. Peace. I'm out.” Tyronne slapped the counter and left.

Why did it even matter that he was taking someone else? He wasn't her man. Tyronne was her friend. A friend she liked a lot but didn't know how to express her feelings to. Didn't he know she liked him? Couldn't he tell by her actions and reactions toward him? SaVoy swallowed the emotional lump in her throat and fluttered her eyelids, washing back the spate of salty water clouding her vision. She flipped open her psychology book but couldn't concentrate on any of the words. Then she remembered she was supposed to call Fancy.

SaVoy dialed Fancy's work number. Fancy answered on the first ring.

“Washington and Associates. This is Fancy Taylor.” Fancy's voice became softer, then she said, “Speak to me.”

“Hey, I see you're still seducing all your callers. How are you? Haven't heard from you in a couple of days,” SaVoy responded.

“Only the wealthy ones,” Fancy responded. Her tone instantly lost its seductiveness. “I'm fine. Just dealing with this jerk-off of a boss. He's upset because I quit letting him lick Miss Kitty.” Fancy's voice perked up. “But I'm into Byron. I love me some Byron. He's the one. He's going to be my husband. I bought a bridal catalog yesterday and I want you to help me plan our wedding.”

“Has Byron mentioned marriage? Bought you a ring? Or proposed?” SaVoy asked, because this wasn't the first time Fancy had met “the one.”

“No, but he did buy me a new Benz. The ring will automatically follow. You know how men are. They expect us to take the lead. That's why you haven't gotten a date with Tyronne. You keep waiting for him to ask you out first. Tyronne has a big dick just like my Byron. Girl, I have a built-in dickarometer. They can't conceal those luscious weapons. And, girl, you can't wait for a man that's hung and gifted to ask you out. You gotta jump on that with your legs wide open and ride that shit till it collapses.” Fancy gasped. “My bad. You still a virgin. On second thought, you'd better not fuck with that big dick. It'll just ruin you into a heavenly ho and have you speakin' in tongues. At least wait until after you graduate, 'cause once you've sucked and fucked a big one, you won't be able to think straight. Let me pull out my calendar. What are you doing Sunday morning? I'll bring the catalog. This one just came out. It's for African-American brides and it is the bomb!”

SaVoy exhaled, then said, “The same thing you should be doingâ”

Before SaVoy could finish Fancy said, “My bad. Church. How about Saturday morning?”

“Saturday is fine, Fancy.”

“Good. I'll change my horseback riding appointment with Byron from Saturday to Sunday and I'll go roller-blading early Saturday morning. I'll pick you up around nine. I know this fabulous breakfast spot secluded up in the hills. White people mainly eat there so you'll fit right in.” Fancy laughed.

SaVoy asked, “Should I call and invite Tanya?”

“If you must. But I doubt she can get a weekend pass from the warden.”

SaVoy couldn't disagree with Fancy, this time. “Fancy can I ask you a question about sex?”

“Oh, oh. Okay, go ahead.”

“How does a woman know when she's experienced an orgasm?”

Fancy started breathing heavy into the phone. “Haaaa. Haaaaa. Damn, you! Damn, you! Yes! Fuck me! Harder! Harder! Ooooooooo! But for you, you'll probably find yourself screaming praises and calling God's name.”

SaVoy shook her head and said, “I knew I shouldn't have asked you.”

“Suit yourself. But I've got go. Here comes horny Harry licking his damn lips again.”

SaVoy hung up the phone wondering if Fancy was right about Tyronne. Did she really need to make the first move to get Tyronne's attention? Would making an advance alter their relationship? Maybe the girl Tyronne said was just his friend was really his girlfriend. SaVoy needed to talk with Vanessa. She picked up the phone and dialed Vanessa's number.

“We're sorry. The person you are calling does not accept calls from unidentified callers . . .”

SaVoy knew that. She dialed star-eight-two, then quietly hung up the phone as several customers entered the store.

CHAPTER 13

D
esmond stood outside Carlita's door debating whether to ring the bell or go to Fancy's apartment. Fancy had left several messages, each one saying she needed him. Not the way he preferred. The brakes on her new car were squeaking, again. If she was so happy with dude, why did she keep calling him? How could Fancy just have sex with him and then act as if they never consummated their friendship? A voice inside his head whispered,
Just leave. Go over to Fancy's. Come back to Carlita's later or tomorrow.

How could Desmond compete with the wealthy men who generously gave Fancy everything she wanted, including a fifty thousand dollar car? After dude gave Fancy the Benz, Fancy gave Desmond back his old car and said, “If you don't want it, Dez, get rid of it.” Desmond sat on the bench by Carlita's door and gnawed his fingernail. Why did he keep revisiting the same issues? Something inside him just wouldn't let go of Fancy. Was it his pride? Or was it the fact that despite all of Fancy's flaws, Desmond was still in love with her?

All Desmond wanted was to love Fancy, be true to her, and he wouldn't hurt her like most of the insensitive guys she dated. If being rich also meant he had to become insensitive and arrogant, Desmond would rather remain a mechanic. But that wasn't his future plan. Becoming a famous attorney was his destiny. If Fancy would support him now, he'd stay with her forever. If she waited until after he became rich and famous, it would hurt him because at best she would be just a friend.

Shaking his head he reached for the door knocker. Maybe if no one heard him he could honestly tell Carlita he came by but no one answered the door. Yeah, right, a household of five, at ten o'clock at night, and everyone was gone. Desmond stopped debating with himself and pressed the lit rectangle.

Ding-dong.

A silhouette of beauty emerged before his eyes. Carlita opened the door wearing an ankle-length black sheer robe with nothingâ
nothing
âunderneath.

“Hi, baby. You can use your key, you know.”

“And miss out on seeing my woman open the door looking all sexy? I'm glad I didn't.”

Desmond smiled and followed Carlita into the living room. As Carlita jiggled her butt, the belt tied around her waist seemed determined not to let the smooth material covering her voluptuous ass become buried between Carlita's cheeks. Her hair was loose and swayed, releasing the sweet freshness he'd come to love. A dab of vanilla aromatherapy oil rubbed in her palms, lightly run through her hair then brushed throughout was one of Carlita's secrets. Desmond loved Carlita. But he wasn't in love with her like she was with him. Barry White's “I'm Gonna Love You Just a Little More, Baby” resonated throughout the house.

Carlita pointed toward the couch and sang, “ âI'm gonna love you, love you, love you.' ”

A tray of freshly sliced mangos arranged in the shape of a heart decorated a simple black platter, which sat centered on the glass-top coffee table. A bottle of champagne rested in an ice bucket next to two extralong-stemmed wineglasses. The familiar scent of strawberry candles burned along with several jasmine incense sticks. The house was pleasantly quiet.

“Where the kids?” Desmond asked, looking around.

Kids. Desmond shouldn't call them kids because he was only six years older than Carlita's oldest. The minute they would hear his voice they'd rush into the living room and challenge him to a game of Madden or chess. Carlita didn't condone wrestling in her house so pillow fighting was out of the question, at least when she was home. Carlita would say, “I don't have money to throw away on carelessness. You break something in this house, you will pay for it with cash or I will beat your ass.” Most of Carlita's promises were fulfilled so when they broke the lamp in her son's bedroom, Desmond rushed to IKEA and bought a new one.

“At my sister's. I asked her to keep them for me this weekend. I needed a Carlita weekend.” She leaned over and softly kissed his lips, slipping a slice of mango in the corners of their now interlocked jaws.

“Umm.” Sucking and slurping, Desmond couldn't tell which was sweeterâCarlita's tongue or the sugary fruit.

It was Friday night so Desmond should have been excited he had thirty-six to forty-eight hours to have Carlita all to himself. Instead he was already thinking of an excuse not to be available Saturday or Sunday.

Carlita rubbed her hand through his hair, then massaged the back of his neck. Desmond's eyes automatically closed, his head instantly fell, causing his chin to hit his collarbone. Desmond remembered how his mother used to rub the back of his head when he was a little boy. The relaxing sensation immediately cleared his mind.

“So, how was your day?” Carlita asked, working her fingers into his pressure points.

“Fine,” Desmond mumbled, “fine.”

Fancy was the woman of his dreams, but Carlita was a real woman. Fancy never offered nor gave him a massage. Maybe that's why Desmond preferred dating older women. They cooked, cleaned, and still had time to please their man.

Desmond muttered, “And yours?”

“Oh, I had a fabulous day. I spent my day at the Orinda spa. I started with a manicure and pedicure. Then I had a ninety-minute body massage. Ooh that felt so good.” Carlita moaned like she was having an orgasm. “Have you ever had a hot-stone massage?” Carlita asked, tasting the tip of his fingers.

“No, but from the way you're turning me on with those noises, sounds like I need to.”

“Yeeesssss,” Carlita hissed, then softly kissed his neck. “Next time I'll make us an appointment.” Kneading the joints in his hand she continued, “After the massage, I had a wonderful peppermint body scrub. Then I lounged in the eucalyptus steam sauna for twenty minutes and I ended with a shampoo and blow dry at Top Notch.”

Carlita made blow-dry sound like blow job when she whispered in Desmond's ear. His dick pressed harder against his pants. Top Notch. Where had he heard that before? Aw, shit! That was where Fancy went to get her hair done.

“Well, whoever does your hair, she does a great job. It's beautiful,” Desmond said, running his fingers through Carlita's hair.

After talking for about an hour, Carlita kissed from his lips to his Adam's apple and slid his shirt down his arms, leaving it underneath his back. Carlita pressed a button and the black leather sofa vibrated. Then she began licking his nipples, biting his chest, and grazing her lips all over his body. Lightly scratching her nails over his chest, abs, and back, Carlita maneuvered her red fingernails and unbuttoned his pants. Cautiously she lowered his zipper and peeped inside. Slipping her soft hand underneath the elastic band of his boxer briefs, she massaged his dick, then caressed the head.

“Oh, baby. Look what I've found.” Carlita's eyes beamed with excitement, then she whispered, “Get up for a moment.”

Desmond sprang from the sofa and watched Carlita as she spread a beach size towel on the sofa. “Lay back and open your legs.”

Desmond sprawled like a frog on his back with his legs open as wide as he could stretch them.

Carlita enjoyed every inch of his now mango flavored dick as she took her time. Syrupy juices oozed between his cheeks. Occasionally Carlita flicked the tip of her tongue over his rectal opening. Desmond closed his eyes when Carlita gently French kissed the sensitive spot right below his balls. Desmond threw one leg over the back of the couch and suspended the other in the air so Carlita could get closer.

Semen seeped from his head. “Ohâmyâgod,” Desmond whispered repeatedly. “I love you, woman.”

Carlita eased his left ball into her mouth and slowly stroked his shaft. When she started humming, his nut vibrated in her mouth. Desmond grabbed the back of her head and gripped her hair. Carlita never complained about him messing up her hair. Easing his right nut into her mouth, Carlita hummed again. His dick throbbed. Carlita's tongue wiggled from the base of his penis, up his shaft.

She stopped at the spot that connected the shaft and head, and gently rubbed the crevice with a slice of mango. When his fluids oozed from the opening and spilled over the top, Carlita savored his juices. Her lips surrounded his head as she sucked his cum, taking all of him into her warm mouth. Carlita was such a woman. His woman. She began rotating his head in her mouth like it was her favorite lollipop.

“Damn, that feels good. Suck your dick, woman. Do the damn thing. Oh, yeah, baby. Do dat shit,” Desmond said as he watched Carlita.

Carlita had taught him a man should only suck five places on a woman's body: lips, tits, clit, fingers, and toes. “Bite and lick everywhere else.” She'd added, “Amateurs suck. Pros bite. Sucking leaves passion marks. Bites marks are gone by the time you're finished making love. Passion marks stay for days and generate more trouble than they're worth.”

Desmond's fluids escaped once more but a lot more of his juices were ready to explode in Carlita's mouth. He was on the verge of cumming. Carlita had him going. Going. Going. Insane. Skin tingling. Toes curling. Back arching. Carlita removed her robe, then coaxed him to the reclining chair. She pressed a button and the chair started vibrating. She pressed another button and the leather got warmer. Carlita held his dick and spanked his head against her clit until she came. She straddled him, placing one leg at a time over each of his shoulders and rested her feet at the top of the recliner. With his dick deep inside, Carlita took her time rocking back and forth to the melodic groove of Sade. She rocked. And rocked. And rocked, until the recliner fully extended.

Desmond palmed as much as he could of Carlita's ass and pulled her hips into his each time theirs met. He plucked her nipples with his teeth while she held him close.

Carlita deliciously whispered, “This is the best dick I have ever had,” right before she French kissed his ear.

“Your pussy is so tight, so juicy, hot, and so, so wet. I just want to explode deep inside you. Say my name, baby. What's my name?”

Carlita seductively said, “Desmond.” Then she moaned, “Desmond. Ooh, Desmond, I love you,” Carlita purred in the sexiest voice he'd ever heard.

Desmond pulled her hips closer and thrust his deeper. “I'm cumming, baby. Daddy is cumming all up in his pussy. This is all for you, woman. Hold me. Tighter.” His fluids flowed hard. Carlita's ass churned up and down, converting his cum into cream.

Carlita moaned louder. “I'm cumming with you.”

She pressed harder, forcing the recliner to unexpectedly lean back another notch. This time Desmond felt the head of his dick slip into Carlita's vaginal cul-de-sac. Her legs folded underneath her thighs as Carlita rode him like she was cumming across a finish line.

Desmond felt his dick slipping out. Carlita turned off the vibrator and rocked until she was satisfied. Then she coaxed him to her bed, rubbed his entire body down with a nice hot towel, dried him off, and tucked him in. Desmond slept for what seemed like hours until his cellular phone woke him up.

He fumbled in the dark, following the tune to the living room. It was Fancy.

Desmond whispered, “What's up?”

“Desmond, I'm stranded.”

Trying not to wake Carlita he retreated to the kitchen still whispering, “Stranded? Where are you?”

“I have a flat tire. I'm stuck in San Francisco. I need you to come and get me. Now, Dez! I'm scared. I need you!”

Moving the phone away from his ear and peeping into the living room, Desmond said, “Okay, I'm on my way. I'll call you back in five minutes.”

Desmond dressed quietly. He went into the bedroom. Carlita was sitting up in the bed. “Where are you going?” she asked calmly.

“Tyronne's car broke down. I gotta go help him out. I'll call you tomorrow.”

Carlita rolled over and pulled the covers up to her neck.

As soon as Desmond closed his car door, he speed dialed Fancy's number. “Where are you?”

“You've gotta hurry, Dez, it's dark out here,” Fancy cried.

“Calm down. Where are you?” Desmond had run the last two lights before getting on the freeway. “I'm in my car right now crossing the Bay Bridge. Tell me where you are.”

“I'm off the Caesar Chavez exit at the gas station near The Clam House.”

The Clam House was a nice affordable seafood restaurant. Desmond had taken Fancy to lunch there a few months ago.

“What in hell are you doing over there at one o'clock in the morning? I'll be there in five minutes.” Desmond tossed his cell phone on the passenger seat and plunged his accelerator to the floor. When he pulled into the gas station, he saw Fancy but he didn't see her car.

“Oh thank you, Dez, for coming to get me.” Fancy hugged his neck so tight he couldn't move.

Desmond looked around. “Where is your car?”

“Byron had it towed to your shop. That's why I needed you to hurry.”

BOOK: He's Just A Friend

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