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Authors: Eric Jerome Dickey

The Blackbirds (29 page)

BOOK: The Blackbirds
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“Well, this wasn't exactly the missionary work I thought it was going to be.”

“How did you think it would be?”

“Not like this. You're good at this. So good, you've taken the lead.”

“I'm not good at all. Feel free to take the lead back. Or kick me out of your place.”

“I'm not kicking you out yet.”

Rickie Sue kissed Indigo. Full lips pressed against full lips, soft like pillows. Indigo squirmed. Then she sucked Rickie Sue's breasts, made Rickie Sue squirm. Indigo pulled her between her legs, positioned Rickie Sue like she was a man, like she was Olamilekan.

Soon their heads were at opposite ends of the bed, legs crisscrossed as they made scissors, as vaginas touched.

Indigo stared at Rickie Sue, her hips rolling while her hands pulled Rickie closer to her as Rickie Sue did the same. Rickie Sue grinned, pulled Indigo closer, vagina to vagina. Lips kissed. On fire, Rickie Sue crawled to Indigo, climbed on her thigh, positioned herself on the muscle, on the bone, and did a slow grind, her breathing heavy. Rickie Sue leaned in, nibbled on Indigo's lips. Indigo pushed up on her elbows,
positioned herself, and rode Rickie Sue's thigh at the same time, had situated her clit on the hardness of Rickie's leg, on her bone.

Soon Rickie Sue had Indigo on her back, was on top, had Indigo's long legs open wide, made scissors from a new angle, dominated, grinding, enraptured. Swimming in a good feeling, Indigo closed her eyes, her breathing heavy too, felt a woman's passion for her.

Indigo wished Olamilekan were this attentive.

She wished Yaba hadn't been so disappointing.

Rickie Sue licked Indigo's nipples, then went down on Indigo, put French kisses between her legs, massaged her with fingers, and massaged her with tongue. Indigo held Rickie Sue's head, and a thousand thoughts went through her mind.

The things her mother had said went through her mind. Ten years in jail in her homeland for breaking this law. But she felt so good, too good to think about laws or superstitions.

If only women could have babies with women, babies that shared the same DNA, her world would be perfect. Maybe in one of those far-away universes Destiny always talked about, that was a possibility. Rickie Sue stopped, sat back, her mouth moist, and little by little she grinned.

Indigo said, “I am glad you are not African. I am glad you are not Nigerian.”

“If I were?”

“This would become addictive. This would become a problem.”

Indigo crawled to Rickie Sue, then licked her lips, brushed her full lips over Rickie Sue's vagina, barely grazed Rickie Sue's lips over and over, drove Rickie Sue mad with anticipation. Indigo gave Rickie Sue's vagina soft kisses, slow kisses, kissed her there like she had all the time in the world, tested her, teased her, made her pull at sheets and sing each time she exhaled. Rickie Sue moaned, trembled, jerked, told Indigo how beautiful she was, told her how good she was making her feel. Indigo gave her intense kisses, then gave her fingers, and massaged her with her tongue, then played games with her using her tongue.

Indigo asked, “Am I doing this right?”

“Fuck yeah.”

Indigo took a breath, then grazed Rickie Sue's sex with her tongue.
She moved her tongue back and forth over and over, still in slow motion. Soon she moved her tongue vertically, up and down, up and down. Then she opened Rickie Sue, explored her with the tip of her tongue. Indigo slid her tongue inside Rickie Sue as if it were her lover's sweet mouth. She went deep without going too deep, did the same thing she did when she kissed a man, when she sucked on his tongue. Indigo hummed and sucked on Rickie Sue. She sucked Rickie Sue the way she loved to be sucked by a man, and loved the way her tongue felt. Rickie Sue called out to her savior. Indigo took small breaths through her nose, same as she did when she kissed for a long time, when she had kissed and fallen into a trance, and gave Rickie Sue more of her tongue, gave her more soft kisses, then sucked gently. Gently kissing. Gently sucking. Gently licking. She took a break, paused for a few seconds, watched Rickie Sue squirm, heard her whimpers beg her to continue, then Indigo adjusted herself, put her hands under Rickie Sue's ass, leaned in and started again with the soft kisses before she reentered her with her tongue. As Indigo gave her perfect kisses and tongue, she used her hands, touched Rickie Sue's quivering body, massaged her legs, rubbed her belly, squeezed her breasts, pinched her nipples as she tongued her.

“Rickie Sue, should I stop?”

“What are you trying to do to me?”

“You like this?”

Rickie Sue held Indigo's braids as her answer.

Indigo closed her eyes, held Rickie Sue gently, slipped her tongue inside, pretended she was kissing Olamilekan for a while, then pretended she was kissing Yaba, sucking his lips. Rickie Sue was so sensitive, so excitable. Her thighs tensed and her back arched as she held Indigo's braids and sang her orgasmic song. Indigo made Rickie Sue come so hard her legs refused to stop shaking. Indigo made a woman come with her mouth. That was a first. She grinned. A moment later, Indigo stopped, backed away, looked at the ethereal glow on Rickie Sue's face. Seconds later, Rickie Sue followed Indigo's retreat.

Indigo said, “No more.”

Rickie Sue whispered, “Yes, more.”

Again Rickie Sue was between Indigo's legs as Indigo held Rickie
Sue's head. Right away, Indigo's song began and her legs shook. Rickie Sue was so much better. So much better. Better than Yaba. Better than Olamilekan. Rickie Sue made Indigo jerk and come. Shake and come. Moan and come. Talk to God and come. Rickie Sue moved her damp mouth to Indigo's breasts, then kissed her, gave Indigo African honey.

Indigo said, “If only you had a dick. You would be perfect for me.”

“Girl, swear to God, I was just thinking the same damn thing.”

Then they laughed. Laughs became tender kisses and rising moans as they fingered each other. Indigo held the sheets and orgasmed again, a small one, was feeling too good, then rolled away from Rickie Sue.

Indigo stared at Rickie Sue, stared, shook her head, bit her lip, then whispered, “You are the devil. You lie like the devil. You have a body like the devil. Your soup is the devil's soup. Your hands are the devil's hands. You tongue my no-no like the devil. You taste like the devil.”

“Girl, please. You eat pussy like the devil.”

Indigo laughed again.

Rickie Sue got up, danced, turned on jazz, picked up the vibrator, turned it back on, and smiled. She opened her drawer, took out as second vibrator, turned it on as well.

She tossed both of her humming toys on the bed next to Indigo.

Rickie Sue winked. “In case you want to reciprocate.”

“I don't believe I'm going to ask you this. I really don't.”

“Whassup?”

“Do you have a strap-on?”

“Wish I did.”

“If you had one, this could get pretty interesting.”

“Might have to get online and see if Amazon Prime makes one-hour deliveries.”

“Have you not had enough of me for one day? Am I overstaying my welcome?”

“I'm a groupie. You're famous.”

“How am I famous?”

“Are you serious?”

“No one knows who I am. No one knows my face or my name.”

“Olamilekan is your bae. I do love to watch Olamilekan.”

“Oh. That fame by osmosis thing. Famous for doing nothing.”

“And I'm a Yaba fan too.”

“So now you see me as another Amber Rose, a woman celebrated due to a man.”

“I'm that close to being with two superstars. I'm touching the woman they have touched. This is exciting for me. They don't know you get down like this, so I know you in a way they don't know you.”

“I'm only seeing Olamilekan, not both of them. I'm not like that.”

“Still, I'm one up on them. I know that's strange, but it really has me aroused. You aroused me when I met you. I have no idea who you are, but I can tell you're someone special. The way you carry yourself, everything about you is different. You're smart too. Very smart. You're not ordinary. So, if I only get to do this once with you, I want all I can get before you go.”

Again, as Nina Simone sang, the music down low, as vibrators hummed, called out to them, asked what did they want to do, Indigo licked her lips, stared at Rickie Sue.

Indigo whispered, “This goes against my heterosexual, Nigerian sensibilities.”

“The offer for chicken soup was honest. I owed you. Hey, we can stop doing what we're doing, and I can rub you some more, feed you some more, get you comfy again, then we can chill out and watch
Survivor's Remorse,
or we can take a nap. I know you're weak.”

“Me and you together is like mixing Nigerian coffee and dark chocolate. It's addictive.”

“That combination could keep us up all night.”

“I have somewhere to be, have a birthday to celebrate, and Yorick is coming back.”

“Sweet, sweet chocolate. And good, good coffee.”

“You did make it do what it do when you did what you did.”

Rickie Sue said, “See? You didn't need to try to walk up all those stairs to work out.”

“Soup. Massage. Vicks. You've been pretty damn awesome. Wish you were a guy.”

“And I rebraided your hair and gave you a good scalp massage too.”

“You are really the devil, you know that?”

“I can make it do what it do, and you're damn good at making it do what it do too.”

“At the risk of being redundant, I'm not a lesbian. This is a layover, not my destination.”

“Neither am I. We're just, as they say, two ships passing in the night.”

Rickie Sue went to Indigo, pulled her to her, and began kissing her neck, her ears.

Rickie Sue whispered, “All this chocolate. And your fine ass is just as sexy as I am.”

Indigo moaned. “So much sweetness between you and me that it's ridiculous.”

“Now it's like I know what it's like when someone is with me, can see it, feel it, taste it, hear it from their point of view. It has to be amazing for a man to be with one of us.”

“We are awesome, American cousin.”

“So damn awesome, African cousin.”

Chapter 52

Cristiano Gonçalo Bernardo asked Kwanzaa Browne, “Sleeping?”

“Smiling with my eyes closed and hoping this part of the night isn't a dream.”

“Really?”

“You've made the worst birthday ever become the best birthday ever.”

“Today's your birthday?”

“Today marks an anniversary of the moment I made my first appearance in the world.”

“Happy birthday. I'm glad I had the opportunity to be a part of your special day.”

A moment passed, before Kwanzaa asked, “Question, Cristiano?”

“What, Kwanzaa?”

“The guitars, the instruments, do you play, or are those just decoration?”

“I play.”

“I play the guitar too. My stepdad taught me.”

“We should have a jam session.”

Kwanzaa chuckled. “We just did.”

He laughed.

She said, “You must work in Inglewood.”

“My job is not far from your job.”

She didn't ask him to be more specific about where he worked, just let it go.

He said, “I was surprised to see you in Hollywood.”

“I was just as surprised to see you outside of Starbucks.”

“It's your birthday.”

“Yup.”

“You were clubbing alone.”

“Yup.”

“Where are your other friends tonight?”

“They're waiting on me to get back home so we can start the weekend of celebration.”

“Boyfriend?”

“I'm single. My friends are all female. Three girls trying to live out loud, just like me.”

“Are they single like you?”

“One is divorced. One is in limbo. One has a bae.”

“For the ones who are single or in limbo, I have friends and could arrange a party.”

“Are your friends built like you?”

“Does it bother you?”

“For a moment, I thought I was being Punk'd.”

“It's real. It doesn't scare you or turn you off?”

“Not at all. I'm amazed. Are there many men like you?”

“About one in every six million men in the world.”

“How many men are there in the world?”

“About three and a half billion.”

“So there are a few more of you out there.”

“One would assume.”

“You're a double-barreled lover.”

“I'd never thought of it that way.”

“And both barrels are fully loaded.”

“Yeah, they are. Others are like me, but not all are functional on both appendages. I'm a rare case amongst rare cases.”

“Your friends know about your blessings?”

“Not everybody. It's not something I talk about.”

“The women who were waiting?”

“You noticed. They know. Or they have heard.”

“You've slept with some of them?”

“Most of them.”

“Most.”

“Sometimes they bring a friend.”

“To watch or participate?”

“To watch, then participate.”

“At least you're honest about it.”

“It's not my thing. I don't want to become anyone's sideshow.”

She said, “Thanks for this wonderful experience on my birthday.”

“You're a great dancer.”

“So are you. I had so much fun with you at the Club. Dancing with you like that, that made my night. Everything after was a bonus.”

“I see you like dancing.”

“Love dancing. I could dance until the club closed down and be the last one to leave.”

“Can I get your number?”

“You don't have to ask for my number.”

“What do you mean?”

“I saw the queue out front. It's Friday night and that's what Friday night is all about. Trying to live out loud for a little while. I wanted something. You wanted something. You got what you wanted. I got what I needed to get through the night. It was liquor and sex. I know how this goes.”

“No, I really want your number.”

“If I see you again, ask again, and maybe I'll give it to you. Not tonight.”

“What do you do when you're not at Starbucks?”

“You're asking me about me?”

“I'm asking you about you.”

“UCLA has most of my time.”

“What's your major?”

“Pharmacy. Pharmaceutical sciences and administration.”

“Smart girl.”

“Needed to have a major that could get me where I want to be in life.”

“You're getting dressed again.”

“I should leave before my car turns back into a pumpkin.”

“I'm enjoying your company.”

“Same here, but I have to go meet my friends. The three girls.”

“You're going to see them this late?”

“My friends do this celebratory thing on our birthdays, so I need to get back and change.”

“Can I give you my number?”

“That's not necessary.”

“May I have a few more minutes with you, Kwanzaa?”

“Want me to be your koala bear again?”

“Yeah. It was awesome.”

“I really enjoyed that. Never had it like that before. Never imagined that was possible.”

“I have a confession. I've always thought you were so beautiful.”

“You never said anything to me.”

“You always wore a ring. Tonight I saw you weren't wearing one. So I didn't know if that was something you did when you went out, when you were in a particular mood, or mode.”

“Yeah. Well, my status has changed, so that altered both my mood and mode.”

“Until when?”

“Until I meet someone new.”

“It's not a temporary breakup?”

“It's the real deal. I'm free to do what I want and with whomever I choose.”

“Sorry about the breakup.”

“I'm not.”

“Based on that bitter tone, sounds like a bad ending.”

“I got to sleep with you, so it's not so bad. This is what I call a happy ending.”

He paused. “You're the serious one at work.”

“I have fun and dance with everyone else and act silly at times. Some customers hate it. We'd go crazy if we didn't have fun.”

He said, “I've never seen that side of you.”

“Well, when you show up, the climate changes. Every girl gets quiet and stares at you.”

He said, “You always look so stush in the land of chavs.”

“Really?”

“You never seemed approachable. Thought you were stuck-up.”

Kwanzaa shrugged. “You didn't seem friendly. Was really surprised to see you in a club.”

“I guess we read each other wrong.”

“And I slept with you, of all people. I never expected this would happen.”

“Do you want it to happen again before you leave?”

“Only if you want it to happen again.”

“I want it to happen again.”

“I was hoping you would.”

They kissed. And kissed. Intense, ravenous kisses that left her breathless.

With two fingers he massaged between her legs, eased inside her. With both hands, she massaged his equipment. She thought of it as equipment, because he was well equipped.

She felt like a virgin, trying something new, unsure of what to do, how to please.

Kwanzaa's LBD from Forever 21 fell to the wooden floor, but her FMPs from DSW stayed on her feet. Feeling sexy, seductive, confident, Kwanzaa slowly took to her knees. As she held him in each hand, her phone rang. It was Marcus Brixton's ringtone.

“You need to get that?”

“It's nobody.”

Licking her lips, she lowered her head and moved on with life, forgetting Marcus Brixton.

BOOK: The Blackbirds
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