Factually Fictional

My phone rings. It's Homegirl.

"Bitch, what are you doing?"

"Shit, watching the game."

"Pack some shit, we're going on a road trip."

"What? Where? When...huh?"

"I'll be there in 60."

I roll off the bed and look around my room. Road trip. It's a Friday. I'll probably need enough stuff for the entire weekend. I pull my travel bag out of the closet and start filling it up. Panties, socks, tank tops, jeans, tee shirts, sweat pants. I go into the bathroom and brush my teeth quickly. Put it into the container and set it aside along with my toothpaste, deoderant, body wash. I grab a couple towels and a face cloth.
I study my face in the mirror. Look at my hair. I'd just had it done. The curls were cute. Loose and blunt. Flipping over and under. I liked that look. However, my bangs look a little...off. I plug in my flat iron and walk out the bathroom as I grab my toiletries. I stuff everything into my travel bag and consider taking another shower. I'd just taken one no more than an hour ago. I vetoed that idea. I figured I should change out of my pajama pants so I throw on some sweats.
I go back into the bathroom, spray a tiny bit of Isoplus sheen on my bangs and run my flat iron over them. Ugh. They still look fucked. I unplug my iron, wrap it in a towel, throw it in my bag, put on some shoes, stuff my fucked up hair under a hat and wait for Homegirl.

Two hours later, we get to our destination and walk in. There are a number of people there. Only 4 pay rent. Greetings all around. Gorgeous condo. Cool peoples. We'll be staying there for the weekend. I wander around, trying to decide where I'll sleep since the two couches have already been spoken for. Upstairs, there's one room with the door closed.

"Whose room is this?"

One of the roommates answers me.

"Oh, that's D's. He should be here in a minute. Homegirl will be in my room, you can probably stay in D's room."

I don't go in, not wanting to intrude. I am a little unsure about sleeping in the room of someone I've never met but if D is like the other 3 roommates, it should be ok.
I go back downstairs, walk into the kitchen and I see him. Got.Damn. I feel like I've been punched in the chest. I was laughing as I walked into the kitchen. My laughter's cut short when I lay my eyes on him. Tallish. Smooth, dark brown skin. Fresh fade. The sideburns and goatee are precise. He smiles at me. I weaken. Perfect white teeth. Shit.
I take in his gray Rocawear sweatsuit. Zip up hoodie. Sweatpants. Slightly baggy. White tee underneath, crisp white Forces.

"Hey, I'm Homegirl's friend, M."

"What's up, I'm D. You want another drink?"

"Yeah, thanks."

He makes the drink. Then he reaches for me.

"Let's see what's going on under this hat."

He pulls my hat off. I feel my curls tumble towards my shoulders. Feel my bangs frame my face. Thank God I got my hair done.

"Yeah...that's nice."

I can do nothing but smile.

We leave the kitchen and join the rest of the party in the living room. All night, it's as if we are tied together at the waist with invisible rope. We have a connection. The chemistry is definitely there. At first, the rope is taut. We engage ourselves within different groups of people, avoiding being too close. Yet, sneaking glances at each other. I smile shyly. He looks away quickly.

There's some slack in the rope.

I observe his interactions with his friends. Male and female. He's funny. Quick-witted. Smart. Hard with his boys. Teasing his female friends. I imagine how he must have been in high school. Probably popular. He has that cool demeanor, like everyone wanted to be his friend.

I catch him staring at me. More slack.

Homegirl breaks out her camera. The rope disappears. He and I pose for pictures. Being silly.

The hour grows late and people start to leave. Those too tipsy to drive home take up residence on the couches. Homegirl and Roomie head up to his room. I follow behind them. As Roomie gets an extra blanket and pillow for Homegirl, he starts to sing a Marvin Gaye song. I am entranced. His voice is strong but mellow. Beautiful.
I stay there for a beat, look down the hallway. There's a soft light coming from D's room. I say goodnight to Homegirl and Roomie. Close the door behind me as I leave.

I stand in his doorway, knock lightly. Don't want to enter until I'm invited. He's digging around in his closet, doesn't look at me but tells me to come in.
I look around. Futon, lamp, computer, TV, stereo, crates full of records, a dresser. There's a portrait of Miles Davis above the computer desk. He painted it. I see his signature at the bottom. In the corner, slightly behind the small entertainment center is a blown up picture of him and a girl. She's white. Hair pulled back in a bun. Part in the middle. Cute but not really pretty. Too much makeup. I can see the top of the Baby Phat logo on her shirt. Ah, she's one of those. I had immediately noticed how neat his room was. Light, fresh scent. Everything in its place. The only dust in the room was on that picture. Of them. That somehow made me feel better.

"Roomie told me you were sleeping in here with me."

"Um, yeah, I hope that's cool."

"Oh, yeah, you're good. I can sleep on the floor if you don't feel comfortable sharing my bed."

I think quickly. There is no way...

"Naw, I wouldn't make you do that."

...I am not going to get a chance to cuddle with him.

He folds the futon down, puts down extra pillows and a blanket. He turns on the television and asks me if I have something to sleep in. He offers me one of his shirts. I take it and head to the bathroom. I slide my sweats off. Take off my shirt. I decide to leave my bra on. I slip off the road-weary panties I have been wearing all night. I turn on the water, wait for it to get hot. I soap up my hands and do a quick wash between my legs. I giggle at myself in the mirror. I know I won't be fucking him tonight and the fact that I am still washing up makes me laugh.
I rinse off and use some tissue to dry her. I step into the lacy panties that actually match the bra I'm wearing. I smuggled them and my toothbrush out of the room when he wasn't looking. I brush the alcohol off my teeth and tongue, pull his shirt over my head, and walk back into his room. By this time he's already in bed and the only light is from the glow of the TV.
I am able to see that he has on a black wifebeater. The rest of his body is underneath the blanket. His black doo-rag is tied around his head. He's on the left side of the bed, head propped up on his elbow, flipping through the channels. He settles on MTV. Jackass is on.
I sit on the floor, putting my discarded clothes into my travel bag. I listen to him laugh. He has a great laugh.
I consider tying my hair up in my silk scarf but decide against that quickly. My curls will hold. Plus my big holey scarf did not scream sexy. I stuff the scarf deep down into the bottom of my bag.

I slide into bed, next to him. His body is warm. I'm not touching him but I can feel his heat. If I face the TV, my ass will be all in his crotch. This futon is not that big. I panic slightly. I don't want to do too much too soon. I don't want to give him the wrong idea. If only he would make the first move. I'd be able to follow suit.

I'm not laying there long before he pulls me closer to him. Drapes his arm around my waist. His chest is touching my back. I feel him when he laughs. He has an extremely deep voice. Because we are so close, I know that he has on long pants. Thinner than his Rocawear sweats. I imagine how sexy he must look. I giggle.

"This shit is funny, right?"

I wasn't even paying attention to the TV. But I tell him, yeah, these dudes are hilarious.

"I can cut this off if you are ready to go to sleep."

I roll over and face him. My breath catches when he looks directly into my eyes. His arm does not move from my waist.

"Naw, you can watch it. I like to fall asleep with the TV on."

I slyly snuggle closer to him. He helps by pulling me into his chest. Because of the slight awkwardness of the position, I have no choice but to throw my leg over his. I think I hear him sigh. My mouth and nose are touching his neck. I could kiss him if I wanted to. I'm tempted. Instead, I inhale his scent. He smells incredible. Curve cologne. It does something to me.
He rubs my back lightly, moves to my thigh. Rubs the leg that has been thrown over him. I let him. He clears his throat and quickly moves his arm back to my waist.

I am in this intimate embrace with a man I have known for only hours. Really, if everything were completely innocent, there'd be space between us. Even on this small futon. There is none. But I am strangely comfortable. He turns off the television and adjusts his body for sleep.
His hand migrates to my back. Rubbing lightly. Again.

"So, tell me about you, yo."

I guess we're going to talk now. We talk about our families, where we grew up, school, work, music. I've found it hard to speak directly into his neck without kissing him so I have rolled onto my back. One of my arms is over my head, playing in my hair. He's laying on one of his arms and with his other hand he's rubbing my belly. Right in the middle. Not too close to her and not too close to my breasts. I am in anguish and wildly distracted. But still, we talk.

Our voices become more and more soft. My body is tired but my mind is racing. The conversation dies down, we're no longer laughing. But he's still caressing my skin. We are extremely close. All night, I have felt the insistent prods from his erection. He's done nothing to hide it. Is that on purpose? I cannot answer that question.

My eyes have adjusted to the darkness so I see him lick his lips. His hand stops rubbing but his thumb continues the action. He leans down towards me. I take a breath. He's so close...so close.

Our lips touch. The moan escapes before I have time to catch it. He squeezes my waist. We kiss. He uses his lips to step into my mind. His tongue is warm and wet. He's a damn good kisser. I am so relaxed, I don't realize I have put my arm around his neck. He doesn't rush. He just continues to kiss me. Intensely. Finally, pulling me closer. My body is preparing itself for penetration. I can feel how wet she has become. His hand slowly, slowly moves higher, right below my breast. Shit. Shit. Shit. He moans. It drives me insane. I feel like I'm slipping.
Oh God, I need air, I need AIR!

I gently push him away.

"Shit."

He laughs. If his chocolate skin was light, I'd see him blushing.

"I'm sorry, you know...if I was out of line for doing that."

I pause. Not because I don't know what to say but because in that instant, I cannot physically speak.

"I liked it. A lot. You're uh...pretty good at that."

Damn, that was lame. I beat myself up mentally.

He laughs.

"Yo, I dig you, M. I want to get to know you. Can I do that?"

I smile.

"Yeah. Yeah, you can."