Free The Truth Behind The Lies by Lolah Lace

Bash looked cool with his new growth of facial hair. This man was a sexy motherfucker. I could lick the sweat off his body and be okay with that. I could bottle his sweat and sell it on the expressway off ramp with peanuts, and bootleg movies. I could call his scent Vandervol. I could sell the Eau De Toilette Spray, Vandervol aftershave and shower gel. I would be rich. Bash smells like heaven.
    We walked to the different concert stages. We eat unhealthy because cheating at any concert is allowed. That’s what Bash said was the rule. His rules were plucked from outer space. We danced around. We were having fun. Bash even made me play air guitar after I told him black people don’t play air guitar. We don’t say rock on either but I kept that one to myself.
    Bash was a perfect distraction. We might last three months or three minutes but he is just what I need in my life at this very moment. We wove in and out the crowd and moved from one stage to the next.
    There was something about me that was militant. That’s why I asked Bash if he ever used the ‘N’ word last night. That’s why I say and do things that are not politically correct. Maybe I shouldn’t have listened to Public Enemy in my youth. I just opened my mouth and the uncomfortable words come out.
    “You don’t feel a little out of your element around all these black people?”
    We both live in Downers Grove which is three percent black. I thought it was a legitimate question.
    Bash laughed his hearty generous laugh. “No not at all. I did get a few eye daggers aimed my way.”
    “Really?” I saw them brothers mean-mugging him and shaking their damn heads at me. It has happened to me before. It was when I was on business lunches with white male colleagues. These are the same brothers that call me a stuck up bitch because I make more money than them.
    “It doesn’t bother you?” I really wanted to know.
    “Why would it?”
    “Aren’t you supposed to fear the black man? Isn’t that in the rule book?”
    “Oh Nina, you are so funny.” He half-smiled.
    “Am I?”
    “Look at me.”
    “I see you.” Yes Lord I see you.
    “I have no fear.” He raised his hands out to his sides. He turned in a complete circle until he was back to facing me. His icy blues shot straight into me. “I’m six-four. Look at my body.” He made a muscle with his right arm and his bicep broke out of his smooth skin. My hot spot shot lube straight to my panties. He reached over and grabbed my hand and ran it over his abs. “Nina, I’m the Hulk. No one fucks with me.”
    This guy right here.
    Hulk. Iron Man. Thor. Superman. Batman. All them white dudes. Yep. He is them.
    Bash pulled me into a hug. He let me go and reached under my arms and lifted me off my feet to kiss his lips. I was actually floating but I really felt like I was floating. He was so strong. I was definitely over one hundred and fifty pounds. I stopped getting on the scale after I jumped passed that. I didn’t want to see that mess.
    His tongue made me forget I was surrounded by thousands of people. I held my hands on his shoulders as he worked his tongue inside my mouth. He was so precise with his movements, never careless, never sloppy. He moved his tongue with a purpose. No one could ever call him a coward. No one could ever call him a bad kisser.
    This guy right here. I want him. I snapped out of my lurid fantasies of our future life together when I heard people whistling, clapping and cheering.
    Bash put me down on my feet. My face got instantly hot noticing all the faces that were on us. He held my hand and that helped with the embarrassment. I clamped on to his arm.
    “Hey! Hey! You giving out kisses?” A voice came out from in front of us.
    It was an older heavyset black lady of about sixty. She was standing next to two ladies that had to be her old lady crew. She had her hand on her hip. She was wearing a church lady wig in all this heat. Her friends were wearing wigs too. They all matched in