“Do you want water or something?”
“Water’s good.” Edison disappeared into the kitchen, and I continued to admire Mr. Castle’s life in his collection of oddsand ends. Scanning the room, I landed on crates of records. “Are these your records?” I yelled.
“Nope, old man Castle’s,” Edison called back.
“Well let’s see what he was into.” I flipped through the stack, pulling out some gems, smirking when I found Ray Charles. Removing the album from the sleeve, I opened the record player that was as tall and wide as a long dresser. When the needle connected with the vinyl, the room was filled with sharp piano keys as “I Believe To My Soul” began to play. Upon reentering the room, Edison found me swaying my hips back and forth. “You going to make me dance alone?”
He placed the two glasses of water on coasters and crossed the room to meet me. Mirroring my two-step, his eyes were locked on to my face. Edison slipped his arm around my waist, pulling me close. His feet stepped back and then to the side, leading me across the scant empty space on the living room floor. I closed my eyes and leaned into him, turning my brain off.
My skin freckled with goosebumps when his fingers found a patch of bare flesh near my waistband. Opening my eyes, I looked up and immediately met the steady intensity of his cognac gaze. He was waiting for permission. For me to give him the green light to bend me over the couch cushions and fuck me senseless. And I wanted to let him. Maybe I wasn’t as sober as I thought. If I just lifted to my tiptoes and dusted his lips with mine, Edison would take care of the rest. Stripping me naked, kissing every inch, and giving me a proper dick lashing.
Get your lick back.
Twisting out of his grasp. I reached for my water, drinking in big gulps. “Let’s play a game. You have to guess the artist based on three-word clues.”
“Really?”
“Yes, who doesn’t love games?” It was one in the morning and my mother’s words were haunting me. “Ain’t nothing openafter midnight in Hume but legs.” Was that why I’d invited myself inside so I could let him inside?
“I don’t.”
“We’re playing. I’ll go first.”
“Okay.” He dropped to the couch.
“First up … the queen of country.”
“That’s four words.”
“Just guess.”
He rubbed his eyes. “The queen of country. Is this some vain attempt to get me to say you?”
I tossed a nearby Beanie Baby at his head.
He caught it and chided me. “Hey, that’s worth seventy-five dollars.”
“That thing is worth seventy-five dollars?”
“Yep.” He tossed the space themed bear in the air. “And Castle has hundreds of them.”
“Who in their right mind would want a Beanie Baby in this day and age?”
“You’d be surprised of the amount of people willing to purchase useless shit.”
“Stop stalling and answer. We’re still playing … queen of country.”
“Could it be the great Billie Preston?”
I displayed the record, jumping up and down in delight. “That was an easy one. Are you ready for round two?”
“There’s a round two.”
“Yes, it’s a game and games have rounds, or quarter, halves, sections even.” I went to a crate tucked in the corner and flipped through, looking for a hard one. I couldn’t help but giggle when I came across this unexpected album. “City of Compton.” I did my best not to sing the words because then it would be a dead giveaway.
Edison stood and his gold chain peeked out from the collar of his T-shirt. I can’t explain why the sight of the modest gold rope chain around his neck excited me, but it did. My mind flashed to images of his chain dangling in my face while he fucked me.
“I know damn well he doesn’t have a Tupac album in that stack.” He pulled the record from my hand in surprise.
