“Oh, God,” she breathed against me, her voice raw. “Let it go, Keisha.”
“Oh, yes!” I cried, throwing my head back as I felt the molten core break loose, sending waves of heat throughout my body. I rode wave after wave until the spasms stopped and I floated back to Earth.
I lay there completely sated, eyes closed in orgasmic bliss. When I dared to open them, I saw hers looking into mine. It was real. She was there. She was still inside me an
d I closed my legs around her. Now that I’d had her, I was never letting go.
MJ Williamz grew up on California’s central coast but now calls Portland, Oregon, home. Regardless of where she hangs her hat, she’s always traveling to some far-off exotic land and coming home with plenty to write about. She is proud of her dirty baker’s dozen—the thirteen short stories she’s had published—and is working on more, with a novel currently being considered.
Crave
Rachel Merriweather
I was sitting at home all alone; stressed out and lonely because she had left me. How could I give three years of my heart, body, and soul to someone only for them to leave me in shattered broken pieces? I lay in the middle of my floor, my almond-hazel eyes looking up in the ceiling; my long black curly hair hanging loosely on the gray carpet. I lay in a wifebeater with no bra, and a pair of black booty shorts. My honey-brown skin was so pale from stress and tears. I lay on the floor with a bottle of Lemon Vodka in my hand and the CD player remote in the other. Shareefa’s Point of No Return CD was on repeat playing “Cry No More” until the tears finally fuckin’ stopped.
I love hard and give up easy but I never thought it would have come to this. I finally got up when I heard a knock at my door. For three days I didn’t answer but, for some reason, my body told me to get up. When I opened the door, she was standing there with the same expression on her face as mine: a mixture of pain, sorrow, and loneliness.
Five feet two, sexy chocolate-brown skin, light-brown tight eyes, and long dark-black braids that fell to the middle of her back. In a bomber jacket, a white tee, and some jeans, looking so petite but still a sexy stud and the friend of my ex. I let her in.
“How you holding up?” she asked me as she brushed past me.
“Just great. Can’t you tell?” I answered as I shut my door.
I sat back on the floor as she got situated on the couch. KC and I had been friends for only a short period of time, but she had needed me when her ex had left her for another man. Damnit, I needed her advice and guidance to get through this tough time. Funny how this was the first time she had come to visit me alone; without all our friends.
“I noticed you weren’t answering your phone, so I thought I’d check up on you.”
“Yeah, well, I didn’t want to be bothered with the questions like, ‘What happened?’ ‘Why?’ ‘Are you sure it’s over?’ I didn’t need that today.” I had been checking my voicemail periodically and there were over twenty messages with those exact questions and concerns.
“I know. I understand.” KC looked down at the bottle of Vodka in my hand. “You can’t drink all your troubles away, Sweets.”
“Well…” I took the last sips. “I can damn sure try.”
I burped and we shared a laugh. I hadn’t had one of those in a while.
“I know it’s hard, Angie, but you have to try to move on from her.”
“You know what’s so fuckin’ funny?” I was in a drunken stupor; that last drop having finally hit me. “She told me that no matter what, she would never hurt me. She said that she wouldn’t let the past hurt or harm us at all. And you know what? That’s exactly what she did.”
I started to cry. I couldn’t take the pain. KC held me in her arms. I could smell the cologne she used and it smelled exactly like her.
“Angie, you have to look at it like everything happens. Everything happens for a reason. If you don’t want her back, then let her go. If it’s true love, then try to get her back. I realize with me and Wendy, it wasn’t meant to be.” Her words somehow made me even angrier.
“I love you, KC, but I don’t know what the fuck you saw in her ass. I mean, she was rude, she was immature, and she always brought you down. I don’t know what you saw in her anyway.”
“I saw what no one else saw and that was the problem. Everyone else saw the truth and all she kept giving me was a lie. I gave up too much for her; it’s like I lost a piece of myself, messing with her. I’m glad that I at least get to say that I was good to her.”
“Yeah, I made sure that I get to say that shit, too. I was damn good to her. I mean, I deserve an Emmy for the Wifey Performance of the Year.”
I got up and stumbled to the kitchen. I went to get her a bottle of water and another bottle of Vodka for me. I took a sip of my drink and I heard KC get up.
“Angie, how many bottles do you have?”
“Enough!”
“I’m not gonna let you drink your pain away, Angie.” KC snatched my bottle and broke it on the floor. “You know how I feel about that.”
“You know you cleanin’ that up, right?” I asked her; shocked and surprised. She had never cared before when I drank.