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But he hadn’t known. She too was a hunter. She too could use camouflage and deception.
His game was tight. Her game was tighter.
Still, was her game tight enough? He was supposed to be leaving for D.C. tomorrow. Would he put the trip on hold?
It all depended on that blowjob. It had been a master blow
job, one of her very best. If it had been a pizza it would have had fifty kinds of cheese, seventy-five kinds of meat, been big as a barn door, and weighed a ton. A 360-degree, ’round-the-world-and-I’m-goin’-again blowjob. No brag. Just fact.
Would ol’ swingin’ dick want some more o’ dat?
Early the next morning he called. Could they get together. Probably wanted to get him a taste.
The nerve!
“Naw, teacher, I really can’t,” she whined.
There was a long silence on the other end of the line. He was thinking. “That’s fine. That’s fine,” he said brusquely.
“Maybe next Tuesday?” she suggested.
“Not next Tuesday, Ms. Epperson. You know our arrangements. I will call you,” he said curtly and then he hung up.
I got your next Tuesday, she thought.
He called back ten minutes later.
“Aww, teacher, really I can’t today. I got papers to mark and I gotta clean up my apartment and my hair is really a mess and I smell like a pig.”
He hung up this time without saying anything. Was that it?
He called again five minutes later. Desperation was in his voice. He didn’t care how she looked or smelled or what she had to do. Could he please maybe just come over just a little while, pretty please?
“Naw, Mr. Gaddys. I got to do my nails and I don’t feel good and I got a headache.”
There was shock in his voice. She hadn’t called him teacher. His power was slipping. Now, not only his libido was on the line, but also his ego.
Maybe a man can tough it out if you got him by the balls, but a blow to his ego he can’t stand—if’n he be a man!
He hung up. Then he called right back. She said no. Then he hung up again.
He called twenty times in a row. She didn’t even answer the phone. The twenty-first time, she picked up the receiver.
He had lost all his nuts. He said “please” more times than James Brown. She wished she could have seen his face. He promised her the stars and the moon. The sun. He said he would take her to the Ebony Fashion Fair and the Alvin Ailey Ballet on Super Bowl Sunday.
That one almost got her. Givin’ up the Super Bowl! But she had to remember the mission. This was bigger than her. Bigger than him. It was for the sexual health of society that she was working now.
She yawned and hung up on him.
He didn’t call again.
Was it over? Would he give up? Would he leave town with his tail between his legs, call somebody else, or get a copy of Black Tail magazine, go whack off in the john, and call it a day?
This was the tough part. Knowing how to give ol’ dick a little line, like a fisherman trying to reel in a really big one.
I would have made a good fisherman, she thought. Will this be the big one that got away that I’ll be telling my sistahgals about in my old age?
She did her nails and her toes and she thought about something else.
