My house burned down on Valentine's day, 2000. The effects of that night still linger with me to this day, but that is the subject of another post.
Valentine's Day 2000 was a Monday, so that Tuesday, a good friend of mine took me to a club called Wet. Those of you familiar with DC from back in the day know all about Wet, but for the newbies: Wet was a gay strip club that consisted of a u-shaped bar with showers at the back. At the time, strippers could be COMPLETELY naked (good times...). Tuesday was black night, so it was full of wannabe thugs, butch queens and not-so-butch queens, DL brothas and gurls who called themselves DL, but were betrayed by arched eyebrows and clear lacquered nails and of course, regular, upstanding citizens like me. The place screamed with sexual energy and many a frustrated brotha made the short journey from the Wet, down a few blocks to Glorious Health and Amusements (affectionately known as The Glory Hole) for relief. Of course, as a Christian woman, I never made that journey more than once or twice a month.
Sadly, all of that is gone now, replaced by a baseball stadium and office buildings. In fact the building I work in sits on top of what used to be Tracks. Anyhoo...
It was into this warm, dark and moist space, full of sexual possibilities, that I was dragged the day after Valentine's Day. I could still smell the smoke and when I closed my eyes, I could hear my father's screams (He survived and is fine now). I posted up in the corner with a cocktail, paying the whole situation DUST. Gradually I became aware of a brotha giving me the eye, so I gave as good as I got.
He was short, about 5'-6" (Me likey!), clear dark chocolate brown skin, beautiful lips and eyelashes so long they almost looked fake. His approach was at once submissive and aggressive and I was instantly turned on. We chatted for the rest of the night as he told me his life story. He had just gotten out of the Army and was here in DC trying to decide what to do next. He had a habit of standing inside my personal space which I found intoxicating.
Since I was staying in a hotel with my sister, we arranged to meet the next night. We had dinner and some really good convo. He was sympathetic to my situation without making me feel pitied. He was submissive to my wants and desires, but aggressive in keeping the objective of where we would end up clearly on the table. As we drove back to the hotel, he stroked my hand and believe me, a brotha was feeling it.
We couldn't go back to my room, so he got another room in the hotel and wouldn't you know it, we ended up right next door. My sister was asleep on the other side of the wall. That did not stop us from working that room out.
Out of his clothes, he was muscular tank of a man, just hairy enough to run your fingers through. He was a great kisser, hell he was good with his mouth everywhere, and I do mean EVERYWHERE. Everything about him turned me on, especially the way he reacted whenever I touched his ass. I would stroke his hairy asscheeks with my fingers and he would moan in pleasure, so you can only imagine what happened when I fingered him. When I was eating him out, I had to make him bury his face in the pillow to keep from making too much noise (lest we forget my sleeping sister in the next room).
At some point, I had licked and fingered him until he couldn't stand it anymore. He looked back at me over his shoulder and said, "I wanna feel you inside of me." Baby, I almost came right then and there. I fucked that boy all over that hotel room; on the bed, on the dresser, in the shower, on the floor. We went through 8 condoms over the next day. And once again, we broke the headboard. That's how you know you are doing it right!
As I left him the next morning, I was floating on air despite my situation. Despite the death of my mother, my house burning down and my father ending up in the burn unit, all I could think about was that I had met someone who could be THE ONE.
Well, gentle readers, as Anita Baker once sang...
My story ends, as stories do,
Reality steps into view.
No longer living life in paradise,
Or fairy tales
I came back to the hotel room that night, to find THE ONE in bed with 3 other dudes and he wanted me to join in. The man, this beautiful man, whom I thought was THE ONE, turned out not be so exceptional after all. He was a beautiful, but common, whore. I won't lie, I was crushed foralmost six months a hot minute, but I got over it.
After feeling what I was feeling, I couldn't participate in that 5-way, but time allowed me to see that I was in a very vulnerable space when I met him, so I let it go and we became good friends. That didn't stop me from feeling a little smug satisfaction when I found out several years later that he got fired from his job and Ben and Jerry's for whoring.
It seems he had a habit of picking up trade from the bar and bringing them back to the shop where he worked for a little cream-making of his own. One of the queens who worked in the shop tried to hit on him and when he was rejected, reported him to management. He was caught, in flagrante delicto, and fired on the spot.
Valentine's Day 2000 was a Monday, so that Tuesday, a good friend of mine took me to a club called Wet. Those of you familiar with DC from back in the day know all about Wet, but for the newbies: Wet was a gay strip club that consisted of a u-shaped bar with showers at the back. At the time, strippers could be COMPLETELY naked (good times...). Tuesday was black night, so it was full of wannabe thugs, butch queens and not-so-butch queens, DL brothas and gurls who called themselves DL, but were betrayed by arched eyebrows and clear lacquered nails and of course, regular, upstanding citizens like me. The place screamed with sexual energy and many a frustrated brotha made the short journey from the Wet, down a few blocks to Glorious Health and Amusements (affectionately known as The Glory Hole) for relief. Of course, as a Christian woman, I never made that journey more than once or twice a month.
Sadly, all of that is gone now, replaced by a baseball stadium and office buildings. In fact the building I work in sits on top of what used to be Tracks. Anyhoo...
It was into this warm, dark and moist space, full of sexual possibilities, that I was dragged the day after Valentine's Day. I could still smell the smoke and when I closed my eyes, I could hear my father's screams (He survived and is fine now). I posted up in the corner with a cocktail, paying the whole situation DUST. Gradually I became aware of a brotha giving me the eye, so I gave as good as I got.
He was short, about 5'-6" (Me likey!), clear dark chocolate brown skin, beautiful lips and eyelashes so long they almost looked fake. His approach was at once submissive and aggressive and I was instantly turned on. We chatted for the rest of the night as he told me his life story. He had just gotten out of the Army and was here in DC trying to decide what to do next. He had a habit of standing inside my personal space which I found intoxicating.
Since I was staying in a hotel with my sister, we arranged to meet the next night. We had dinner and some really good convo. He was sympathetic to my situation without making me feel pitied. He was submissive to my wants and desires, but aggressive in keeping the objective of where we would end up clearly on the table. As we drove back to the hotel, he stroked my hand and believe me, a brotha was feeling it.
We couldn't go back to my room, so he got another room in the hotel and wouldn't you know it, we ended up right next door. My sister was asleep on the other side of the wall. That did not stop us from working that room out.
Out of his clothes, he was muscular tank of a man, just hairy enough to run your fingers through. He was a great kisser, hell he was good with his mouth everywhere, and I do mean EVERYWHERE. Everything about him turned me on, especially the way he reacted whenever I touched his ass. I would stroke his hairy asscheeks with my fingers and he would moan in pleasure, so you can only imagine what happened when I fingered him. When I was eating him out, I had to make him bury his face in the pillow to keep from making too much noise (lest we forget my sleeping sister in the next room).
At some point, I had licked and fingered him until he couldn't stand it anymore. He looked back at me over his shoulder and said, "I wanna feel you inside of me." Baby, I almost came right then and there. I fucked that boy all over that hotel room; on the bed, on the dresser, in the shower, on the floor. We went through 8 condoms over the next day. And once again, we broke the headboard. That's how you know you are doing it right!
As I left him the next morning, I was floating on air despite my situation. Despite the death of my mother, my house burning down and my father ending up in the burn unit, all I could think about was that I had met someone who could be THE ONE.
Well, gentle readers, as Anita Baker once sang...
My story ends, as stories do,
Reality steps into view.
No longer living life in paradise,
Or fairy tales
I came back to the hotel room that night, to find THE ONE in bed with 3 other dudes and he wanted me to join in. The man, this beautiful man, whom I thought was THE ONE, turned out not be so exceptional after all. He was a beautiful, but common, whore. I won't lie, I was crushed for
After feeling what I was feeling, I couldn't participate in that 5-way, but time allowed me to see that I was in a very vulnerable space when I met him, so I let it go and we became good friends. That didn't stop me from feeling a little smug satisfaction when I found out several years later that he got fired from his job and Ben and Jerry's for whoring.
It seems he had a habit of picking up trade from the bar and bringing them back to the shop where he worked for a little cream-making of his own. One of the queens who worked in the shop tried to hit on him and when he was rejected, reported him to management. He was caught, in flagrante delicto, and fired on the spot.
1 comment:
oh how i wish i had the one
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