He was finishing up his meal and I saw his waitress give him a check. He got up, dropped a twenty on the table and walked toward me. Yes, he was definitely fine. About five-nine, chestnut skin, long, thick eyelashes over dark brown eyes, built nicely and bowlegged.
He stood over me while I took a sip of my sweetened iced tea. “There’s something I’ve been wanting to say to you for a while now.”
I glanced up at him. “Is that so?”
“Yes.”
I pointed to the opposite side of the booth. “Then why not sit down and say it.”
He sat and said, “You have the most beautiful gray eyes.”
“Well, they say eyes are the portals to the soul,” I replied.
“Then you must have a very special soul because you definitely have very special eyes.”
I blushed. “I’m flattered. What’s your name?”
“Bryant. Bryant Perrywood.”
“I’m Rayne Waters,” I told him.
“Oh, I know who you are, Rayne,” he said, full of implications.
“Humph, and how do you know that?”
“Because I’ve been watching you.”
I blushed harder. “Why have you been watching me?”
He shrugged. “We go to the same school, you’re attractive, why not watch you?”
“There’re a lot of women on campus; many of them attractive.”
“Yeah,” Bryant agreed. “But none of them turn me on the way you do.”
“Oh, so I turn you on?”
He chuckled. “Oh yeah, you definitely turn me on. We work out at the same gym. Did you know that?”
“No, I didn’t. I’ve seen you on campus, but not at the gym. I take a spinning class three times a week.”
“Oh, trust me, I know.” He grinned and his smile was great. “I love watching you spin.”
Spinning was becoming popular back then and it was one hell of a workout. I was still struggling to get the weight off I’d gained from all the fast food in high school. The fat was falling off but I was still larger than I expected. Just meant to be, I supposed. When I was in class, I was in my own little world but I was still shocked I’d never seen Bryant there.
“You don’t take the class with me?” I asked. “Surely, I would’ve noticed you.”
“No, I usually live in the weight room, but I saw you there once, liked the vision, and have been checking you out ever since.”
My mind flashed to Solomon for about five seconds and then I decided “fuck him!” He’d deserted me like I was a piece of trash.
“So, Bryant,” I said, eyeing him seductively, “care to check out the rest of me back in my dorm room?”
“Better yet, why don’t we go back to my apartment? I’ve got a brass waterbed.” He said that mockingly, imitating Morris Day’s line from Purple Rain, my all-time favorite movie. His as well.
As it turned out, Bryant and I had a lot in common. For the first time, I felt like I’d possibly found the one. My days of “whoredom” were over; at least temporarily. Bryant and I dated for the next two years. The sex was off the chain. He taught me a lot of things about sex and I’d imagine that I reciprocated his efforts. We had sex at least three times a week—mostly on his waterbed—and he had a crooked dick that hit my g-spot just right. Then we broke up over something stupid; something I can’t even recall now. That’s the funny thing about life. You go through so many ups and downs and years later, the actions seem so inconsequential. The one thing, the one memory that remained significant to me was the way Ruiz had taken my virginity and then simply acted like it had never happened. Good riddens to both him and his wife!
Four