It all happened last night………..
“This is what I want,” I say to her. “I want you to come to me completely naked. Take off your earrings, take off that silver ring on your index finger, take the watch and the bracelet off your arm, undo that string around your neck, take off your clothes, take of your panties and come to me with nothing at all between us.”
“I take off everything?” she seeks confirmation.
“Yes! That’s how I want you,” I say to her. “Absolutely naked is how I want you.”
We’re in the kitchen. She looks at me and doesn’t say anything else.
Then she takes the ring off. It clatters onto the kitchen counter near the bowl full of grapes. Next goes the watch and the bracelet, then the leather string from around her neck follows with a clink and a soft thud. She starts to fiddle with the earrings.
“I never take these out,” she says.
“Well, you’re taking them out now!” I tell her.
I have the impulse to help her because I know it’s difficult to remove her kind of earrings without a mirror—but I don’t want to touch her yet.
“I have a navel ring,” she says. “Shall I take that out too?”
“Let me see it,” I say.
She pulls her top up a few inches. It’s a tiny hoop. Her navel is also tiny, a flat half-moon on her belly.
“Take it out, I say. All these decorations, you don’t need them dear. I want to see you exactly as you were born.”
“I know you like what you are seeing,” she says. “I know I am your dream woman and you can’t wait to have me.” She puts the navel ring on the counter, on top of the pile she’s made there.
She’s right about that. The idea that she knows what I like makes me shiver with need, because it means she knows things about me that I don’t tell her which could include all sorts of things we’re going to do.
“Alright”, she purrs. She points at me. “Now it’s your turn.”
I take my chain off. My watch follows. I add them to the pile. My things are silver; hers are gold. It’s quite a trove of jewelry we’ve got there.
In a second, I’m in her arms. I don’t know how this happened. I don’t remember moving there. She smells clean, and her body is so warm that I blush from being near it. I’ve forgotten the warmth that comes off an angel like her. Her blood is beating in her neck under my cheek, slamming against her veins. I put my hands around her rib cage and the force of life, the heat and noise of it, assaults me.
We don’t kiss. I am too overwhelmed to kiss her. I will faint if I kiss her. I wonder if she feels the same.
She pushes me away a little.
She sits on the kitchen stool and I remain standing in front of her. I am guessing she wants to blow me. Oh God. The way those lips look… so delicious. I pray I don’t empty myself into her mouth too soon.
But she doesn’t blow me. She whips out my tool and appears to measure its circumference, diameter and length before she lets it hang. She smiles happily. A smile that says “This is what I’ve been looking for.”
She stands up again. She puts one of her hands, the one that no longer has a ring on it, under my shirt onto my back and presses his palm against my spine. I can barely keep standing up. On the other hand, I don’t really need to stand up, because I am floating or pivoting around my desire, which has become the fulcrum of my existence. I am suspended on it, on the heat of it, and I no longer feel my legs or my feet or the kitchen floor.
“Aren’t you going to kiss me?” she asks.
My mouth suddenly feels dry I can’t imagine kissing her with it. There’s another reason I hesitate. The moment before you kiss someone you have always crushed on is the best moment of all, and I want to extend it. Once you’ve kissed, once you’ve tasted each other, entered each other’s bodies, the entire business has been concluded in some way. This is why a kiss equals an infidelity. The kiss is what breaches the separation between two people. Nothing is ever the same after a kiss.
I run my tongue over my lips to wet them. I feel that I cannot breathe. She’s only two inches away from me. I can’t seem to close the gap between us.
I manage to put my mouth against her mouth. She opens her mouth and breathes into me, and then she starts talking to me, with her lips moving against me.
“I want you to be rough not gentle, okay? Make love to me until my kitty becomes sore.”
“Punish me. I am all yours tonight. Forget I am a celebrity. Just treat me like a little hoe.” She declares as she licks my lips and biting them a little, and my mouth is no longer like sandpaper at all but as soft as the hills on her chest.
I can’t wait to get started. This is a dream come true.
She grabs my tool again…..
All of a sudden, there’s a loud sound. Bright lights flash. Music starts playing. Very loud music
“Wamlambeeez……Wamnyonyeeeez….Miracle baby mi huspin na mayeeengs. Mmmh aaah…. Na mayengs.”
I rub my eyes. The lights have just come back. The radio turned itself on. And now Wamlambez is playing on Homeboyz 103.5 and tearing through the speakers in high volume. The music has yanked me from my slumber. I was dreaming. I was dreaming I was with Rihanna. The one and only Rihanna. The Umbrella Rihanna. The ‘Better Have My Money’ Rihanna.
I look around and realize I am just alone on my sofa. I had dozed off after the lights went off.
Rihanna was never here. Just me and my silly dream.