“Toni, what are you doing?”
“Nothing, Laila, just let me love you.”
My eyes wander and find focus on several key pieces in my massage room, like my candles, and my oils, and, well, something new I had planned to share with Toni when I saw her again, but she beat me to it.
“Is this for me, baby?”
“Yes,” I respond, red as a beet, I’m sure.
A pretty in pink vibrator fills Toni’s hand as she hands it to Paris. Throwing caution to the wind, Paris dives in, gently bites my clitoris, which makes me come instantly and proceeds to long, determined licks against my walls. The sweet smell of hot, sticky, wet vagina consumes me as Toni parts my mouth with her lips, and I smell my pussy on her breath once more. Moving downward, she pushes my breasts together, sucks and kisses my nipples, while Paris inserts the vibrator into me, turns it on and now, I’m psycho.
“Oh God…too much, please, Toni, I can’t take this,” I yell in ecstasy, while Toni fingers my clit, rubs my juices throughout and Paris wiggles the pleasurable weapon of my satisfaction in and out of me vigorously. Multiple orgasms take control of me and all I can do is give in to the pleasure.
“Toni, baby, uh, uh, uh, uh…aaaahhh! Shit, this is so good!”
Erotic explosions go on for what seem like days, and when it’s all said and done, Toni reaches over me, and says, “I’ll be in tomorrow for my massage, baby.”
Dubbed the “Queen of Hip Hop Romance Erotica” by Disilgold Soul Magazine, Elissa Gabrielle is the author of two poetry books, Stand and Be Counted and Peace in the Storm, the highly acclaimed novel, Good to the Last Drop, and the sequel, Point of No Return, as well as the much anticipated novel, A Whisper to a Scream. Gabrielle’s literary contributions can be found in Erogenous Zone: A Sexual Voyage, Mocha Chocolate: A Taste of Ecstasy, The Triumph of My Soul and multiple poetry anthologies. She is the founder of the greeting card line, Greetings from the Soul: The Elissa Gabrielle Collection. Gabrielle has graced the covers of Conversations magazine, Big Time Publishing magazine, and Disilgold Soul magazine. Visit the author at www.elissagabrielle.com and email the author at [email protected]
The Finest Man
Wanda D. Hudson
T his all began the night I made a mistake. The target was unnerved by my stupidity and continued as if I hadn’t spoken a word. My job as a night security officer at a women’s homeless shelter was more boring that I expected, and my inaccuracy happened during one of my attempts to catch a spell of much needed shuteye.
Chairs are not allowed during the twelve-to-eight shift, so my bottom side rested atop a garbage can. A can that I wanted to crawl into once I realized what I did.
Knowing I’d be relieved of my shift in less than two hours, I tried not to drift any deeper into sleep. My partner, Simpson, defied the powers that be and confiscated a chair from another part of the building. While we tried to sneak sleep in plain sight, we also tried to stay alert to our surroundings. This was an action that wouldn’t be accomplished. My mistaken words came out slow and groggy at first, and then reached their full momentum before I could take them back.
Deirdra, although I didn’t know her name at the time, came around the corner and did a double take to see me sitting propped up against the wall. I had startled her, as she me, but her mouth remained closed as she made her way to the ladies room. The first time I opened my eyes I caught a glimpse of her face; the second time, her backside. Shouting was my way of alerting the clients of its presence.
“Man on the floor!” came from me in a weary boasting voice. I pushed these words out of my lungs hard. The ladies bathroom was at the other end of the hall and I wanted no one to get a free peep show due to not doing my job. Feeling I had done my duty, I leaned my head back and closed my eyes to try and recapture the thoughts that danced in my mind in its peaceful state. That’s when I had a slight epiphany.
“Wait a minute…no men come on the floor at this hour. And what man would wear flip-flops and shorts up here?”
My eyes opened wide and I sat up when my partner informed me of the slipup I created.
“Wilson, that’s a woman.”
Horror engulfed me momentarily as I hopped up off of the can and paced the small area. Simpson sat up also, and looked at me as if I were a hilarious crazy woman about to lose her mind.
I wasn’t convinced. “A woman? You gotta be kidding me. That was a man…wasn’t it?”
Once we both realized I was serious and had genuinely made a mistake, we giggled in delight. Our snickers weren’t for the embarrassment of the client, but for my stupidity. My job was to work as a security officer, not to belittle women who were going through God knows what and somehow managed to end up in a less than pleasurable predicament.
I continued to pace and turn in circles. Raising my hands over my head and bringing them down to cover my face was the action that I repeated over and over again, as if I were trying to wipe my features away. Simpson signaled to me that the client was walking back in our direction. We didn’t want to look like we were laughing at her manly female exterior, so we became silent.
The client’s steps were quick. When she was close enough to hear my voice I said the only thing that might soothe the situation. The words to change it, or take it back didn’t come to mind, so I mustered up what little dignity I had, and offered up the first words in winning a friend back.
“Hey, look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say that.” My words came out sincere with pleading hand movements attached to every consonant and vowel.
“Naw, that’s cool. Don’t worry about it,” was the callous, hurried, brush-off of a reply I received. My target kept walking, but my heart was still heavy. I wanted to shout, “Wait, we need to talk about this,” but before one syllable could reach my lips, she was out of my sight.
Simpson came and stood next to me. “Damn, I can’t believe I said that shit.” We burst out into hysterics.
“Well, believe it,” were the only words she got out as she hunched over and continued laughing.
“Anybody could have made that mistake, right? Doesn’t she look like a dude to you?” I needed to feel like everyone else was on my side.