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I laughed hysterically at the creativity of my brethren. “How old is Baby Girl?”
“She about our age.”
“And you told her she was your wifey?”
“Yup.”
I was starting to wonder what was real and what was Nick fooling around. “There is no way any female over the age of sixteen would listen to some wifey bullshit. Are you fooling around with young girls?”
“Aw, come on, now, you trippin’. I don’t mess wit no little girls. I ain’t R. Kelly.”
“Where is this woman really from, Nick?” I could barely breathe from laughing so hard.
“She’s really from Houston but it’s a real poor part of town.”
“Figures that some ghetto broad would go for that bullshit. Or maybe that Texas sun has cooked her brain. Why are you scrapin’ from the bottom of the barrel, Nick? Are you afraid to settle down with a nice, smart woman?”
“No, but you won’t marry me and those chickenheads don’t take a lot of work!”
“Stop it, Nick.”
He grinned a foolish thug grin. “You right, girl. All this serious talk is makin’ my head hurt. Come over here and let me lay it down!”
“Not on my nice leather sofa we’re not.”
I got up and lay in his lap. I felt his erection growing.
“I want you right here on your Seaman’s couch,” he said.
I play-smacked him. “Nothing from Seaman’s furniture store would ever be allowed in here.”
“Well, let’s do sumthin’ before I bust a hole in your skull wit my pee pee.”
He had to wait until I showered and freshened up.
It took me twenty minutes to cut my pubic hair into a cute little heart shape. By the time I had shaved, washed, and oiled, Nick had practically given up hope.
He took one look at me and the gangsta flew out the window. He was Nick Seabrook—jazz afficionado and lover extraordinaire—once more.
“Wow, you look sooo sexy,” he said, grabbing me around my waist.
I could tell he appreciated the silky feel of my copper chemise as his hands slid over my curves. “Asha, you smell wonderful.”
We locked lips and then he took my hand and led me to the bedroom.
It was something about the way he led me into the bedroom that made me feel like one hundred percent woman, like some sensuous mythical creature.
Nick slipped the thin straps of my gown off my shoulders and asked me to simply stand in front of him so he could appreciate what he saw. It was awkward at first, especially since he was still in his boxers, but when I saw the twinkle of genuine admiration in his eyes I no longer minded. He started to slide out of his boxers in front of me, seductively, in a way that only Nick could do it without the act coming across soft or gay.
“Let me pull down your boxers,” I said.
He smiled and nodded as I slid them down to the floor. His penis jumped excitedly. “Lie down,” he said.
I climbed on the bed and lay on my back. I was shocked when Nick began sucking and licking my toes as he massaged my calves. He took time with every inch of my body, rubbing, petting, and stroking me into oblivion. I was surprised that he performed oral sex but he did and it was fantastic. He hadn’t even entered me yet and I had two orgasms; but nothing prepared me for the actual intercourse. Nick seemed to hit all the right areas as he prodded my inner walls. It felt so good I just didn’t want to stop grinding down on him.
“Oh, my God!” I yelled as he kept thrusting into me.
“You just had a G-spot orgasm, that’s all,” he said matter-of-factly.
