Free Midnight by Odie Hawkins Page A

Congolese gorillas ’n shit. Foreplay, youngblood, foreplay.”
    Bop kissed Elena’s eyes, her nose, the corners of her lips, her ears, while his left hand massaged her right breast and slid down to cup her stuff.
    â€œWait, wait,” she whispered and hopped out of bed.
    What the …?! She tripped out of the bedroom, leaving his hands with a bare feeling. Now what?
    He sprawled on the bed, took a swig from the beer bottle on the floor, listened to her bare feet padding from the main room to the bathroom. What a helluva time to have to take a shit, sister.…
    He leaned up on his elbow when he heard the sound of the slowly drizzling shower.
    â€œClyde, may I use any towel here?” She called above the drizzle.
    He loved the way she said his name, it came out sounding like “Cle-day” to his ears.
    â€œYeahhh, baby, you can use any towel in there.” A shower, right now. Why? He could feel his erection sink, the elastic of the condom slacken. Bop smiled in the moonlit night. You better come on ’n git it while it’s still here, sweet thang .
    Ten minutes later she tiptoed back into the room with a bath towel saronged on her body, smelling like a tropical plant.
    â€œI needed a shower,” she explained and sprawled on top of him, her body moist and fragrant from the shower and her perfume.
    The condom rose between her thighs like a magnet to steel. He felt slightly confused about the way she handled him. She didn’t seem to like kissing very much but she knew where to touch him, how much pressure to apply; where did she learn all this stuff?
    He leaned over her body, carefully positioning himself between her legs. Looking into her face to watch the effect his penis would have when he entered her.
    She reached down and peeled the condom off as she whispered, “We don’t need this; I’m taking birth control pills.”
    A soft, rainy season sun opened his eyes. Elena was gone. The note read: “Good morning, sweetheart, I had to leave, I’m a working girl. I will see you tomorrow evening. Thank you, Elena.”
    Thank you? Thank you? Thank you?! He sprawled on the bed, indulgently scratching his nuts. Thanks?
    â€œOoooooh, my Gawd! Oooohhh my Gawd! Oh my Gawd! You are killing me! You are killing me! You are kiiilling meeee! Oh my Gawd!”
    Thanks?
    The lovemaking flickered through his mind like a video. “You are killing me!”
    When had any woman ever screamed, “You are killing me?” He scratched from his balls to fondle his engorged dick, passionate memory plus a pee hard. And slowly sat up on the side of the bed, horror stricken. Oh my God. I got AIDS .
    The feeling of the moment had robbed him of any concerns beyond getting his first African nut. And now it was daytime, the lady was gone, and he was permanently diseased; he knew it beyond the shadow of a doubt.
    He slumped back on the bed, pee hard gone, mentally booting himself in the ass. What kinda crazy shit is this? First, she wants to know if I got condoms, then she strips the motherfucker off ’cause she’s on the pill. Now I got AIDS. I know I got it .
    He jumped out of bed to go take a close look at his dick in the bathroom. The condom was beside the bed.
    He showered, washed his dick several times, and sprawled back into bed. This broad has got to have something. I know she got something. She couldn’t fuck that good unless she had something. Damn! I done come all the way to Africa to get AIDS .
    He wasn’t allowed to wallow in his imagined misery long; people were constantly dropping by to see the Vernons.
    The fine English chick with the green eyes, “And d’you know when they’ll return?”
    â€œNext week, late next week.”
    â€œPlease, be shore to tell them that Lucretia called.”
    â€œOK.”
    â€œMy name is Phil Mensah, I’m a Mend of the Vernons; they wanted to take a look at my painting ‘Black