My Best Friend and My Man (5 page)

“I don’t believe that you want it bad enough, then,” I tell her. “Your mouth is saying one thing but your actions suggest otherwise.”

“I agree,” Mike says.

“Michael?” Vee says in disbelief, her eyes wide at Mike not backing her.

“It’s like some women out here talking about not wanting men to hit on them, yet they’re wearing bootie shorts, and their titties are jiggling around in those skimpy halter tops,” he says skeptically. “Say what? You don’t want men staring down your boobs, but you’re letting ’em bounce around like you’re posing for a
Hustler
ad? Mixed signals. That’s kinda what you’re doing, Veron. You’re in denial big time.”

“I am not in denial.”

“Denial is the first sign of denial,” I tell her. “You gotta go through all the other parts to change yourself, not just stop with Wig World. You’ve got to learn the game.”

“I understand what you’re saying, I just don’t see why…” and her voice tapers off as if she really has run out of excuses.

“Look, Vee,” I say as gently as I can. “You will never be me one hundred percent, ’cause that’s just how the good Lord made things, but you can begin one step at a time. Why? Because you are not happy, young lady. Admit it.”

Veron’s stony face doesn’t scare me enough to shut my mouth. Truth hurts, doesn’t it? And truth is what we need to bring out for this girl to wake up and stop living in her fairytale world.

“Vee,” I begin again. “You may not agree with the choices I make, and that’s fine. But I think once you change your mindset and be open to what I’m telling you, your life will be different. You may not want to play the game—even I get tired sometimes—but I’m always thinking about the end result.”

“Yeah, but it all seems so fake,” Veron complains in a tired, scratchy voice.

“It’s not fake,” Mike interjects. “It’s the way of the world. Every day we go through stuff, unnecessary stuff, just to get what we want. Can you honestly tell me you enjoy doing every little peon task you do working for the city?
Do
you? Hell, no, but you put up with the BS because you’re earning your paycheck, am I right?”

Veron’s eyes finally fill with understanding. Looks like Mike can get through to her, and good thing, ’cause God knows what I’ve been trying isn’t working. Even though I’ve been where she is—sweet, dumb, and lonely. Existing in a world filled with unrealistic dreams. Waiting for the earth to change itself and make me be everything I felt I should be. But guess what? It never did. So I had to change myself, and now look at me. I just hope Vee has gotten the same message. Sometimes you can’t just be yourself, not if you want to achieve your goals.

“Okay, Mike, Demetria. I vow not to fight against what you’re saying. I just need y’all to help me institute these changes. Deprogram me. Give me the twelve steps to happiness, whatever you wanna call it, because I am tired. All excuses aside, I have messed up. I know I have.”

“But today you’ve taken some good steps. I mean, you got rid of Ferris, and I can imagine how hard it was to do that,” I tell her with all sincerity.

“Wasn’t hard at all,” Vee says with conviction. “To hell with him. He got some nerve asking me out ’cause Shelly wasn’t around. That fool needs to keep me out of his drama. I’m a number one, dammit!”

—5—

V
ERON

I am a liar, and
my biggest victim is
me. I want to get rid of this inability to face hard truths starting now. I am sitting here staring at Michael West and Demetria. I’m looking and listening and making mental notes that I pray won’t escape my memory. But somewhere in the back of my head, I’m hearing, “It’s hard to go against type. You’re a Virgo; you can’t suddenly be a Scorpio. That’s not you. Be
you
.”

I scream at my brain to shut up and it whimpers down to silence, muted to humility. I know I can institute this new transformation. Yeah, a new life may start with the outward (the new sexy hairpiece), but eventually my inward will be chipped away. I’ll break down the parts of myself that are limping and dysfunctional and build myself up into a woman who’s glorious, strong, confident, and desirable. This new woman who I’m becoming won’t be second to anyone. I’ll draw the type of men that Demetria draws and get the kind of attention she does. That’s my goal. And I’m going to do my best to reach it. I might be a little afraid now, but like Demetria, I want to face the fear until all the butterflies are chased from my belly.

“Okay, Ms. Darcey,” Mike says to me. “How are you feeling inside?”

“I feel pretty good right about now. As a matter of fact, I actually detect joy inside.”

“Hot damn, that’s the best thing I’ve heard come out your mouth in a while,” Demetria exclaims. “Why do you feel joy?”

“I–I don’t know exactly why, but I know the fact that I feel joy without having a man in my face right now is a great thing. It’s like I’m cool with where I am right this second. That make sense?”

“Perfect sense,” Demetria says. “You know you got it going on and you don’t care if anyone agrees with you or not. ’Cause what you think about yourself is more important than what anybody else thinks.”

“Exactly,” I say, feeling a bit rejuvenated.

“That’s where it starts,” Mike adds. “You speak it until it becomes reality.”

“I’m doing it, Mike, what else do I have to lose?”

“Then, young lady, I think you’re now on your way,” Mike says and picks up his glass filled with a tasty Hurricane. “Let’s toast. To Veron Darcey and the fabulous new woman she’s becoming.”

“The new woman I am,” I correct him.

We all loudly clink our glasses together as the waitress places the check in the middle of our table.

I stare at the check, tempted to pick it up and look at it, but I know that it’s not my job. Not anymore.

Mike scoops up the check and reaches for his wallet.

I sit back in my seat, relishing the feeling of a man who is fine with being a man, who’s not being a cheapskate by asking us to go dutch. Dutch is for losers. Chipping in is for scrubs. I am a real woman, dammit, and I expect and deserve the best. Besides, it feels good to be pampered, taken care of, and treated with respect.

In the parking lot, Demetria and I wave at Mike and watch him speed away in his BMW, his tires squealing and popping as if he’s trying to show off.

“He’s cool people, Vee. Brother is the go-to man if you are in a pinch and need a keeping-it-real perspective.”

“He gives it to us straight, no chaser, huh?” I say.

“You damn straight. And that’s how it oughta be.”

“So have y’all fucked?” I ask in a keeping-it-real tone.

“What?”

“Give it to me straight, Demetria. Be honest.”

“Okay, I’ll give you the scoop. Let’s hop in your ride and you take me home.”

“Cool.” I slide in the front seat of my HHR and rev up the engine. We peel out of Bennigan’s parking lot and roll onto the West Loop South.

“So,” I say.

“Okay, so Mike and I hooked up one time. That’s it.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s all.”

“What’s wrong? Was it not any good?”

“Horrible, forgettable. But don’t tell him I told you.”

“You’re serious?” I ask Demetria, trying to drive the car and scrutinize her at the same time.

“Girl, I’ll put it like this: he was average. His tongue is kinda short—I think that got in the way of what could have been. You know how much I love to be eaten out.”

“No,” I grimace as if I’m about to puke. “I had no idea but I’ll keep that important detail in mind.”

“Stop acting so bitchy. I don’t know if I like the new you, Vee.”

“Hold up, the other me was too wimped out for you. Now that I’m acting like you, you don’t like it?”

She laughs, then thoughtfully stares out the window, avoiding my questions and attitude like they’re something she’s not prepared to handle.

And I discover maybe Demetria is a liar, too. She’s all filled with hope and optimism, preaching to me like I’m an idiot, but when I implement her advice she can’t deal? Which does she prefer? This is becoming interesting, and we’re nowhere close to where I plan to go. Before it’s over with I want to be so different that no one recognizes me.

I’ve realized today that one of the first things I need to learn is how to be satisfied from within, not needing a man to hook up with on the regular to make me feel okay. Still feeling like I’m complete even though society suggests that something is missing if you’re in your midtwenties and don’t have a man. Anyway, I read tons of magazines and I know men are mostly attracted to single, happy women who are comfortable being who they are, not single, sad, bitter women. And when I think about it, I can’t say I blame these men. I definitely want to meet a hot man who is confident, secure, and content.

Right now, the man who I hope fits that description is a man whom I’ve been sweet on the past six months. His name is Seaphes Hill. Like me, he works for the city, but we rarely cross paths—I’ve only admired his good looks from afar. And when I have run into him in the employee cafeteria, my tongue gets so twisted up that I can barely say hello. I’m sure he thinks I’m a fool.

But that’s about to change.

I want Seaphes to pay attention to the new me. If he speaks to me, I plan to hold a conversation with him. I plan to have an encounter with him that he won’t forget.

—6—

D
EMETRIA

I am lying on my
back on the carpet
in my huge walk-in closet. Seven vanilla scented candles are gently flickering on the ledge of the Roman bathtub in the nearby master bath.

Darren, my faithful “placeholder,” is crouched between my legs using his hands to gently spread them wider. He starts out tenderly placing sweet, lingering kisses on my inner thighs. His tongue is so long and moist, and I grow wetter each time he slides it up and down my skin.

“Mmm, Darren, that feels sooo damn good. Good, ohhh, good.”

He mumbles unintelligible words and kisses the inside of my left thigh, then moves to lick the other. He slowly blows hot breath directly on my inflamed vagina; it tingles and I grip his head with my hands. He kisses the top of my vagina, then takes his tongue and presses it deep inside my hole, wiggling it lovingly and moaning while he fingers me.

“Keep going, baby, don’t stop,” I grunt and gyrate my hips for maximum satisfaction.

When he lays his head on the side of my vagina and starts sucking it sideways, I gasp for breath, and squeeze his head between my shaking and squirming thighs. “Oh, God, I love this, I love this shit. You the best pussy-eating mofo I’ve ever had.”

He licks and slurps it over and over, like a hungry dog, making loud sucking sounds. I hump my ass up and down, creating a nice rhythm. This feels so good I could lie here forever, eyes closed, tears seeping out the corners, me feeling like I’m being loved deeply, sincerely, by a man who wants nothing more than to please me.

Darren reaches up and squeezes both my breasts in his hands. He tenderly rubs my nipples while vigorously eating me out, kissing, licking, sucking me and bobbing his head up and down like a wild man who found a fountain in the wilderness.

“Ooo, baby, I love it when you do me like this.”

I feel my orgasm building up; my entire body is hotter than a skillet of chicken grease. Everything starts to shake. Fingers, legs, thighs, vagina, shoulders. I scream and twitch and reach out to pull Darren up on me so he can slip his fat, erect dick inside me. His body slumped on top of me, he pumps into me harder and harder, rocking me back and forth, while my eyes flutter and roll around and my orgasm goes on and on. Making love to him feels so good I want to die and be born again at the same time.

His dick has been hard as stone for the last hour. And I’m so happy my carpet is tan and not winter white. My fluids keep pouring outta me like an overflowing fountain. Darren drinks up my happiness, slurping and moaning as if he’s so thirsty for every part of me. He is raptly attentive, and I feel better than I have in a long time.

“Whew, Demetria, I don’t know what I’ma do with you.”

“Keep doing what you doing, baby, that’s what you need to do.”

“Hey, it’s all up to you.”

I sit up and grab the towel that he hands to me. I sop up the sticky wetness from my neck and forehead and set the towel back on the floor.

“Darren, don’t start.”

“Hey, I’m here for you to give you what you need as long as you want it. I’m just saying, it ain’t my fault if a brotha wants to holler at you, show you some love, and you won’t hear him.”

“Darren, I love how you’re loving me; you know that.”

“Yeah, but you still won’t let a brotha hook you up every single damn day for the rest of your life. Hell, I am shocked you let me make love to you in your own house. First time for everything.”

“Well, since you couldn’t wait on me and went and got you a little psycho jump-off, I knew I didn’t want to go to your place.”

“She ain’t nobody. Just a girl, some wannabe. Nothing next to your fine ass.”

“I don’t believe you. Why don’t you show me?” I tease him with a contented and satisfied smile. Quite frankly I wouldn’t care if Darren had ten jump-offs, as long as he’s doing me. What the hell do I care about his little sideline chick? I just want to be fucked by a man who I know will do anything he can to please me.

“When ole boy coming back?” he says.

“Sunday.”

“So can we hang all day today? And tomorrow?”

I rise to my feet, not bothering to cover my body with my silk robe.

“Mmm, I’ll have to think about that. I really don’t have a lot of energy, Darren baby. I gotta recuperate.”

He rubs his chin and grins. His black skin is so chocolaty smooth. Suddenly I want to place my teeth on his neck and bite him and suck on him till we both come again and again. But my hot ass needs to get a grip. Darren and I have been going at it since daylight changed to night. It’s now two in the morning, and I didn’t eat anything for dinner…at least, no
food
. I actually hate the taste of semen, but I will swallow from time to time, since he is so good at eating me and never complains about licking up my juices.

I walk slowly over to my master bathroom’s dual marble sinks and turn on the faucet, listening to the sound of running, cold water. I yawn and grab my favorite yellow toothbrush out of the holder.

“Here, let me help you.” Darren reaches for the tube of toothpaste, untwists the cap and squeezes a dab of toothpaste on his tongue. He pulls me toward him and sticks it deep inside my mouth. I open wider and let his tongue explore me inside. Darren kisses me long and deep, our mouths minty and tingling, while he squeezes and pulls on both my hardened nipples. His presses his dick against me and nudges my ass up against the bathroom counter. We stop kissing long enough for me to hop up on the counter and spread my legs wide.

“What you doing that for?” he asks, grinning, finally turning off the cold water faucet.

“Stop playing, Darren,” I say huskily.

Darren grabs my right foot with his big masculine hands and starts caressing my toes and the underside of my foot. I arch my back while he massages and squeezes my foot, and when I moan, he reaches for the other.

“See, baby,” he whispers, “you could have this type of loving every day. Every damn day.”

“I know,” I cry out when he sticks out his tongue and licks me from the tip of my toes to the top of my knees. His wet tongue wiggles up my body, flicking and licking, teasing me ’til I squirm. I’m so wet.

“If you know all this,” he asks slowly as he kisses my thighs, “then what’s the problem?” He moves his head from my knees to my big breasts.

“Oooh, damn,” I gasp, thankful that moaning gives me an excuse to ignore his question.

Darren covers my right breast with his entire mouth, swallowing it whole, licking, sucking, and rolling his tongue around and over my nipple. The hairs from my arms rise up.

“Baby boy, what you doing to me?” I scream, thankful my house is so big that it makes me think no one can hear my shrieks.

He says nothing. Just keeps working me over, squeezing my breasts together, rubbing his hands across my thighs, gently caressing my lips, which swell and contract, and teasing me so much I am this close to chomping my teeth into my own hand.

“Hey, baby, you get a raise yet?” I whisper, my eyes half closed.

“What you say?”

“Never mind.” I watch his head bob up and down while he continues to press his lips against my breasts, sucking them lovingly like his only desire is to please me. This man is so good to me. He never hurts me, is always ready to do whatever I ask. We are so sexually compatible it’s unreal. It’s a shame that the most he’s ever given me is fifty bucks one time. That ain’t nothing, and it made me sad ’cause I was really feeling this guy. But I chilled, thanked him for being sweet, and made myself stop thinking Darren could be my all-in-all.

It’s hard to find the whole package: a man who has enviable looks, sophistication, and money, one who is truly unattached and mentally stable, with a tough-boy exterior but also a tender, caring heart…and is a sexual stallion. You just can’t have it all, not in the real world. So I’ve learned to take the good parts of a bunch of different guys. Ten years from now, Darren might make some pretty young thing very happy. He’s just not the most ambitious guy when it comes to making and doubling his money. He is satisfied living paycheck to paycheck and thinks his dick skills will keep a woman in his life. Sometimes it makes me feel foolish, because he doesn’t give me anything and I’m giving this good stuff away for free. And because I willingly do it he probably thinks he’s my big daddy on the real. But Darren can think again. I have never met his family. He won’t be meeting mine. I don’t know and don’t care about his favorite color or his favorite cologne. I just need him to be there when no one else is. Because I know he can deliver. Even so, I know it’ll never work between us, because as good as the sex is, I need more than banging sex to be happy.

I need the complete package. Whether that’s Thaddeus or not, I’m not sure. But I’m not worried, either. As long as Darren keeps giving it to me like I want, I am willing to accept that the quality of his fucking is the equivalent of receiving a hundred thousand dollars a month.

Darren’s cell phone rings while he’s eating me out. He jumps from between my legs, giving me his famous stupid look.

“I know you not about to answer that,” I snap.

“I’m not going to answer that.”

“So get back to work.”

“Okay,” he tells me, but he weakly licks my clit and I can tell he’s not giving his best effort.

“Whatsa matter, Darren? Why aren’t you concentrating? Don’t be wasting my time.”

“Why you bitching, Demetria? I’m doing the best I can. I always bring my A-game.”

“You can show me better than you can tell me.”

“Well, if you keep talking like that my dick won’t stay hard, so remember you gotta help me help you.”

I push his head from between my thighs and laugh. “How’s that for helping you? What you don’t seem to remember is I shouldn’t have to do any work at all. I mean, it’s not like you’re tearing me off with any cash, so…”

“Hey, I told you I’m working on that. Lay off will you? Damn.”

“Don’t raise your voice at me, Darren Foster.”

His brown eyes narrow, and I can tell he doesn’t appreciate me talking to him the way I am.

“You know me, Darren,” I say in a softer, apologetic tone. “I hate excuses. Either bring it on or keep it moving.”

“Oh, it’s like that, huh?” I can tell he’s still miffed at me, which is good, actually.

I manage to stand and go to my walk-in closet to get my silk robe, wrapping it around me and pulling the belt tightly.

“Well, that’s a mood killer,” Darren says. “What time is it anyway?”

“Almost three. Damn, my back is hurting.”

Darren’s cell rings again. He gives me another stupid look.

“I know you ain’t answering—”

“I am not answering, just looking. Demetria, chill out for once.”

“You know what? I’m getting really sleepy. Do you remember how to let yourself out?”

“You want me to leave?” He has a fragile, hurt sound in his voice, but I wait for him to come back to me.

When he does, I look squarely in his beautiful eyes and I gently tell him, “You seem like you have other things going on, Darren, and I don’t want to stand in the way of you taking care of your business. So do what you need to do. If you wanna hook back up tonight just hit me on the cell and I’ll see if I can make that happen.”

He stares at me for five minutes until he gets sick of me ignoring him, then he heads toward the door, zipping up his jeans.

I bite my bottom lip and wonder if he can read the yearning that swims wildly in my eyes. I know I’m acting cold, but it’s ’cause I gotta be. What I want more than anything is for him to come back in and hold me until we both fall asleep.