Free Black Silk by Retha Powers

that damned white tag that’s screaming MIRACLE BRA SIZE 34B! because I haven’t had it long enough to wash that reminder
     away. I hope that he won’t look twice at the way my belly protrudes after I’ve removed my control-top pantyhose or make a
     comment about the gray that’s begun to invade the black triangle between my legs.
    The nearness of him and the alcohol have my head spinning and I try again to remember his name even as we peel our clothes
     from our bodies and he climbs on top of me and begins kissing my neck and the side of my face.
    Our tongues never dance and our lips barely brush because kissing is more intimate to me than sex so I won’t allow his tongue
     in my mouth, but I will allow his dick in my body.
    He eases up and I kiss his chest and suck a bit on his nipples. I wrap my arms around him and inhale his cologne. He eases
     up some more until his heart is beating above my head and his penis is staring me right between the eyes. I know what that
     means; I laugh out loud then but I don’t say:
If I didn’t allow your tongue in my mouth do you think I’m going let your dick in?
    “Uh-uh,” I say and grab him by his shoulders and usher him back down until we are face-to-face again. He gives me a look that
     says:
A brother’s gotta try.
    His fingers find that wet space between my legs and they move in and out of me like a slow bow over violin strings and I create
     music for him when my body shivers and explodes.
    I watch him as he dons the condom he had plain as day in his wallet behind the fifty he used to pay for our drinks. I check
     again with my free hand to make sure that it’s secure before I let him in.
    His strokes are long, slow, and even, letting me know that he’s good at what he’s doing and doesn’t need me to guide him,
     so I let go of his hips and allow my hands to stroke his face and play with the stubble on his chin.
    His breathing quickens and he is whispering words of want in my ear and it’s then that I notice the clean space on his finger,
     the one next to his pinkie.
    I dry up somewhere between the fourteenth and fifteenth stroke because there is no love between us to keep me moist. My grip
     on his shoulders slackens, and my mind and body lose interest.
    “What, baby?” he breathes, and then pulls out so he can flip me over and take me from behind.
    I flip even though what I really want to do is sit up and say get out, but it may be another six months before I drink Dewar’s
     on the rocks again, so I oblige and I flip.
    I think that it is easier for him in this position; he can look down on my ass and the curve of my spine and imagine that
     I am anyone, even his wife. His strokes are short, fast, and almost violent as he slams into me. He doesn’t call my name when
     he reaches his climax; he just pulls at my hair and grunts.
    I don’t cum but I do push against him and grind slowly until his groans subside and I know I every drop of his seed has been
     spent.
    He kisses the back of my neck and the small of my back before pulling out of and rolling away from me, letting out a sigh
     and dropping off to sleep.
    I stare at the ceiling and wonder about love.
    It’s nearing 4 A.M. when he starts fidgeting and begins to slide even farther away from me until he can sit up and start fumbling through the
     sheets for his boxer shorts.
    I still can’t remember his name, but it doesn’t matter because there is a Mrs. who has the same. I pull the sheets up around
     my body before flicking on the lamp on the nightstand. I watch him dress and hope that my staring doesn’t make him feel too
     uncomfortable. He slips on his oxfords and straightens the seam in his pants before our eyes meet and he lies, “I’ll call
     you later.”
    I walk him to the door and he pecks me on my cheek and walks away without looking back once. He doesn’t have my number, I
     don’t know his name, so I know later will never come.

Venus in Scorpio
    _________________
    by TaRessa