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“That doesn’t mean shit. I’m actually older than you, though. I’m thirty-five. This your song or some shit? Why you started smiling when it came on?” he asked me.
“Yeah, I guess you can say I like this song,” I let him know.
While nodding, he pulled on the bottom of his goatee and looked down at me. It was as if he was contemplating something in his head, but he didn’t want to come right out and say it. He definitely had a way with his words, so it was no telling what he was concocting in that head of his.
Instead of replying, like I thought he would, he just simply pulled me by my hand. I was going to question him on what the hell he was doing, but my question was quickly answered when he brought me on the dance floor. Now, this dance floor had been full all night, but it was as if the moment he and I were on it, everyone disappeared. For some reason, I felt like he and I were alone in a bedroom, and he was sitting on the bed, and I was standing before him naked. His eyes weren’t on anyone or anything else in this club but me, and for whatever reason, was shy.
I’m never shy, but his intense glare took me there. He didn’t have to call me beautiful because his gaze said it all.
“Don’t tell me you can’t dance,” he finally said.
My palms were sweating so badly because I was nervous as hell. Women were on the dance floor, dancing with their partners like they were dry humping, and I envied them because I felt like I was too shy to do any of that. The thing about it, Za’Kai had these demanding and convincing eyes that made it hard to turn down his offer. Silk was still crooning through the loudspeakers, singing about all the ifs that a woman might be willing to do.
“What? You think Ima talk shit about you? I don’t know if you remember, but when I had you in my room a few months ago, I asked you about things that you liked and your talents. You told me that you could dance, so I’m just trying to see if you were lying to a nigga or not. Let me see if you can dance, Shrimp,” he said, calling me by my nickname for the first time.
I needed to get to the nearest restroom instantly because my drawers were soaked. He made it so easy to want to follow his lead, so I walked closer to him. Finally, our bodies were so close to each other that we were touching. I was so tiny compared to him, so the top of my forehead reached the middle of his chest. I gazed up at him, and he looked down at me, giving me a look like, so what you going to do? I was up for the challenge. It had to have been a mixture of the liquor and him because I was feeling bold.
I turned around, so my ass was backed up against his Louis Vuitton belt. Never the one to give someone the opportunity to call me a liar, I started wining my waist on him so well that you would have thought that I was from the Caribbean. I knew I could dance, so when I finished, I didn’t need his stamp of approval. The song had quickly switched to H-Town’s “They Like it Slow,” and I only started wining my hips more for him. I even did this little thing where I dropped all the way to the ground and came back up.
Once I was up, one of his strong arms snaked around the front of my body, and he kept it on my flat stomach as I melted in his touch. He brought his face into the crook of my neck, and the hair that was on his chin tickled the hell out of me and made my body flutter. I could feel him slowly moving his body too along with the music. I don’t know if it was because he was high or if it had anything to do with me turning him on with my little dance, but he kissed my neck. I mean, those full lips that I had been drawn to since the first day he and I met actually touched my body, and because it felt exactly how I knew it would, this escaped my lips…
“Za’Kaiii,” I moaned, shocking the shit out of myself. Funny thing is, this wasn’t my first time moaning his name. I usually did it at night, when I was in the privacy of my bedroom, playing with one of my toys, wishing that it was him who was bringing me to ecstasy.
“Why you dancing on me like this, shorty?” He groaned in my ear, but I ignored him. I wanted to say, nigga because you told me to! “What’s so special about me, Shrimp? You tough. You proved that to me the first time I met you. I don’t get vibes from you that any nigga could walk up on you, buy you a drink, and have you dancing on him like this. So, I’m asking you again, what’s so special about me?” he asked, pulling me closer into him and stopping me from moving.
It felt like the words were stuck in my throat and like all of a sudden, I was a kid again and didn’t know how to speak. The only thing that I could do was shrug. I turned around in his hold, and I felt awkward as hell with my arms just swinging idly, so I raised them, putting them around his neck.
His hands were on my lower back, and I got vibes from him that he thought I was scary, so I leaned my head up and kissed his lips. Remember that spark that I was talking about earlier? The spark that I no longer received whenever me and Jerrod kissed? I felt the spark now. It was like my entire body lit up the moment our lips connected. Za’Kai was nasty. I could just feel it in the way his large hands roamed around my back when we kissed and the way he kept sliding me his tongue, trying to get me to suck on it.
The way he was kissing me right now and holding my body was the ultimate torture because I knew that there was nothing we could do after this. It was too soon to sleep with him, although my body craved him. I could feel myself getting hot, so I quickly pulled away from him.
“I gotta leave you the fuck alone, shorty. We both know that you belong to someone else,” he let me know, bringing me right back down to reality.
Oh yeah, I was married.
13
Raheem Wallace
“Could you please hush that crying ass baby the fuck up?” I barked at my baby mama, Pinky, who was sitting on the opposite couch with her phone glued to her hand, while our daughter, Raynell, sat next to her crying like someone had just beat her ass or some shit.
Truth is, I fuckin’ hated my baby mama with a passion. The bitch was sorry as hell, and you could give the hoe a damn book on how to parent, or even show it to her on the damn big screen, and she still wouldn’t know what the fuck to do. I couldn’t even put the full blame on Pinky because I knew what she was capable of when I was sliding up in her without a jimmy. The thing is, she had a pretty ass face, a nice ass body, some nice full lips, and since she was four years older than me, she was more experienced. She could suck a mean dick and out fuck me any time that I pulled my dick out to beat her back in. Other than that, the bitch was worthless.
I would have much rather a damn crackhead raise my daughter instead of her ass. I did more for Raynell than
her ass did, and that said a lot because I hardly did shit for her. This was my ole girl’s apartment that I was staying in, so it was normally her who was taking care of our child. I was young, and when Pinky told me that she was pregnant with my daughter, I told her to handle that shit, the same way I did Journey’s ass. But Pinky was the type of bitch who you had to pull a gun on in order to get her to listen. Journey was different. Maybe it was because she was younger, so she was more naïve compared to a lot of the women that I fucked with, so I was able to get through to her in a way that I wasn’t able to get through when it came to Pinky.
Speaking of Journey, I had to admit that I missed her. I hated speaking on the situation with Journey and I because I didn’t want to come off like a pedophile. In my defense, when I met Journey, she told me she was sixteen, so I was able to rock with that. It wasn’t until one day I had her at the crib with me when I was there by myself and I went through her school bag that I found out that her ass was actually thirteen! Imagine the fucked up position she put a nigga in.
The only reason I even started having my doubts about her age is because her parents pretty much had her on a leash, not letting her do shit. If she was sixteen, like she had claimed to be, then I thought that she would at least have a little bit more freedom. That was the only reason why her age wasn’t checking out with me. She was shaped liked most sixteen year olds, mature as hell for her age, plus she didn’t look no damn thirteen!
It was too late to stop fuckin’ her because, for the first time in my life, I actually loved a female aside from my ole girl. Journey was mature as fuck for her age like I said, and I liked the little vibe that she had about her, so I couldn’t cut her off, although I’d tried plenty of times. Her people had money, so yes, that jail time scared the fuck out of me when I started thinking about what would happen to me if the law ever found out that I was fuckin’ her young ass. There was no doubt in my mind that her people would hire the best lawyer and make sure that they buried my black ass under the jail. Even me knowing the consequences of my actions, I still was playing Russian Roulette with my life by keeping Journey around.
She and I hadn’t talked to each other since she called me that day and told me that she was pregnant. Yes, the things that I said to her was pretty fucked up, but I was only trying to say shit that was so fucked up that it got her to hate me, so she could get the abortion. Contrary to what I told her and to what she probably believes, I really did love Journey. At the same time, I barely took care of the one child I had, so I wasn’t trying to bring another baby in this world, only to go out like a deadbeat again.
Plus, Journey wasn’t like me. That girl was smart as hell, and having a baby right now so young wouldn’t do anything but fuck up her future, and I didn’t want that shit for her. Truth be told, I really don’t even know if she got the abortion or not. I hadn’t seen her since the day we talked on the phone, and she was coming to the projects with her ole girl. I’d been trying to text the number that she usually calls me from, or even call her best friend from school, but still, I got nothing.
“Raheem! You can get her! Shit, I was up with her all last night!” Pinky shouted back at me as she stood up from the couch and went into the back room.
