CHAPTER FOUR
BLAKE
I am full of rage, bitter rage. Words are swimming around my head, like angry sharks, they keeping ramming into my skull creating a mild pressure headache. They are demanding to get out, to be heard. They want to fight for me. I am always like this though. I feel a fire burning inside of me, a fire of anger that tries to spill over and flow like hot lava. To char everything and everyone, myself included! But there is the soft version of me that keeps me as calm as water in a deep well. I feel dangerous, fragile like a ticking bomb, one tap from exploding and flattening everything. To create a vacuum so big that eerie silence becomes deafening. I can't believe how I left things with everyone at Eve's place but I couldn't stomach being yelled at, taking all the blame when we were all adults capable of making our own decisions. I kind of felt like how my mother would blame me, a child for my step-father's indiscretions. I was a kid but I had to carry the full weight of a grown man's decision to do those things to me. How my mother sided with him has never sat right with me. It angers me more that I still crave my mother's approval, her opinion of me matters the most to me but she still chooses to berate me any chance she gets. I want her opinion of me never to matter since I know better but I can't get past her being my mother and being important that she accepts me as her beautiful, capable daughter. Someone she can be proud of.
Fuck emotions!
I just want to forget the events of last night and compose myself. I can't afford to lose focus on maintaining the upper hand. I do not want to fall prey to people's unpredictable patterns. It will only worsen my insecurities. Should I move again and start over? Have I become too invested in my friends and job here? I feel my pulse elevate and I have to stop thinking or I won't stop the panic attacks that seem to never end. I need a distraction or should I say a dickraction? I pick my phone and dial my fuck buddy.
Where is this idiot?
I texted him ages ago. His phone pings but it's not his voice I hear at the other end.
"Hello, John's phone, John cannot come to the phone at this moment, he is currently indisposed. How can I help? I am Jamal."
I am not surprised by the formal greetings since this is John's work line but Jamal's voice knocks the wind out of my ovaries. He sounds so sexy, I almost reached down to masturbate to his voice. Maybe I still might… later.
You must have noticed by now how sexually charged I am, once, my therapist told me since I was exposed to sexual activity at such an early age, I am a sexual deviant in that I have a high sex drive. Thank goodness I didn't turn into one of those other extremely dysfunctional groups. Sex drive I can handle just fine, Being whipped and peed on, maybe not.(I hear it's mad fun though)
"Hello?" Jamal's voice reminds me that I haven't spoken. "Umm, sorry, it's fine. I was just looking for some fun, tell him to call me back when he can." I try to sound sweet and darling for him to like my voice but I am sure I sounded like a dying cat. As I move to hang up, his voice fills the speakers again. My stomach does a backflip! What the hell! "Orrrrrrr, I can be your 'some fun'….. I could also use some fun and company." I do a double-take. Did I just hear him right? He wants to hang out with me? Due to my lack of better judgment, loose morals and curiosity I agree without much hesitation. I immediately text him my address and dart into the shower. John gets here in ten minutes so will this Jamal guy. I brush my teeth and change into barely-there shorts, half my ass is sticking out, and a tank top. I spray myself with my most pricey cologne, order in some food and liquor, and settle into my sofa watching 'Shameless' for the twentieth time. I try to calm my nerves, I am so nervous to meet this stranger, something that is so unlike me. Maybe I won't find him cute and I will end up feeling stupid. Why did I agree to such a spontaneous meet? Arrrgh! Fuck me! I need to cancel this misjudged meet-up. As I reach for my phone, a knock at my door startles me, causing me to drop my phone under my palette table.
My heart is in my mouth, I feel my heartbeat drumming against my eardrum and my palms are sweaty. As I walk towards my metal framed door, I notice my legs feel weaker than usual. I reach out for the handle and my arm is trembling. Adrenaline is the only thing in my circulation, I feel dizzy. I open the door expecting a guy standing on the other side looking corky but instead I am met by a wide toothy smile from my delivery guy.
"Sasa mrembo," he greets me with so much enthusiasm I can't fail to smile back and feel glad to see him. Enthusiasm is indeed infectious! I take my order without replying to his greetings and I walk back in to get the cash. I place the food on my kitchen counter and do a mini-run to my bedroom to get my purse. I hate making people impatient, not that this guy seems to mind being here. I always tip him extremely well. For what I lack in sentiment, I compensate with my cold hard cash. "Na leo you have come haraka," I say as I walk towards the door fishing out the money to pay him.
The minute I look up, I drop my purse! Standing beside my delivery guy is this god in human form. He has the good-looking features of Apollo but the body of the war god Ares. I hope he has the sexual appetite of Zeus if we are maintaining the whole greek gods' theme. It's his eyes that draw me in. They are grey but with a hint of black and very deep-set. He has a natural smolder but when he smiles he turns into a cute soft guy. Seeing as though I won't invite him in, he invites himself in with that smile of his. That is Jamal? Wow! His voice is nothing compared to the person and I am glad I have some questionable morals. The delivery man takes his money, shakes his head, and whispers to me, "Kwani yule mwingine alienda wapi?", he remains rooted to my door's threshold and I realize I have to give him an answer, "Alienda ng'ambo."
That answer seems to put an end to his nosiness. I close the door behind me and walk towards my new pal. I swallow hard as I watch the back of his beanie head sticking out of my sofa. He is watching something on my TV and he seems so at home and relaxed. It is like he has been here before and I can't shake the pit feeling in my stomach. I am so nervous and I hate it. I quietly dash into my bedroom and change into a pair of baggy sweat pants and a hoody. I don't know what I was thinking dressing seductively.
Since I prefer hushed tones and dim lights, my whole apartment lives in dullness and soft-tone furniture. It is like I furnished my entire apartment for sexapades. The first thought you get when you enter my home is, 'I could have sex in that seat, or that bean bag or that everything'. I have a fuck pad for a home and that didn't seem to bother me until now. A sudden need to impress Jamal wears me like a cheap suit but I put on my bitchy, I-don't-care face and place my clenched ass next to Mr. hot cheeks. I lick my lips and adjust my position thrice in five minutes, stealing glances at him. He remains calm and his eyes fixed on the show on the screen. He doesn't acknowledge my fidgeting nor looks my way. I pull the arm ends of my hoody over my palms and hide my legs under me. I clear my throat and struggle to get comfortable, I take the demeanor of a scared little girl and I chew on my bottom lips hoping to calm the storm that is inside me.
"Will you relax? I don't bite.. plus John said you are a bad bitch, after seeing your pathetic display just now, I strongly disagree." There is that voice again. Yum! But his way of speaking to me pisses me off. Who the hell does he think he is. "Well, can we both agree that you are one ugly cunt?" I fire back hoping to live up to my bad bitch status. The son of a gun laughs! He laughs at me and I remain wide-eyed. Who is this man? I am not myself around him.
"I know John is just your fuck buddy, but I didn't come here to fuck if that's what you are so worried about….but if that's what you want I am game." He says and for the first time looks at me. He doesn't seem like a person with bad intentions, his look doesn't try to assert dominance over me. His look makes me feel bare and exposed like he can see right through my bullshit and fake bravery. I feel overwhelmed by what that single look does to me. It is like my body is reacting to him in ways I don't want to or have control over, and it's not about how attractive he is, there is something more and I can’t put my finger on it.
It is like finding someone who has been lost to you for ages, it is like I knew him in another world before this one. If you believe in that kind of thing. He clears his throat and focuses on the screen again when he realizes I'm not going to respond. Also, he speaks so formally, what is the deal with that? I will figure that out later, right now I need some much-needed release. "Since you brought it up, I am game too." I attempt to sound as composed as possible but I cringe from how wrong my voice sounds. I surmise alcohol would help in this situation but running to the kitchen to get it would only make things more awkward and tense. He slowly turns towards me like an action figure toy in a horror movie, moves closer to me, making the leather scream. He looks into my eyes, licks his lips, traces his forefinger along my cheek, and asks, "If you are game to screw, why did you change into these oversized clothes?"
After he is finished talking I let out a breath of air I hadn't realized I was holding in. Why is he affecting me so much? I can't even think straight and I never lack a witty response to anything. Currently, I am tongue-tied and lost in this man's eyes. I see him smile, leaning closer to me, and I automatically close my eyes and part my lips waiting to be kissed. I wait a few seconds but the kiss doesn't land. However, I can feel his breath on my cheeks. It is warm and minty, I feel his body's heat enveloping me and he does smell heavenly. I want to open my eyes but I am afraid that I will find that I am only dreaming. I hate what I am feeling right now but I have never felt this alive and unhindered before. I want to surrender totally to this man I barely know. I want to tell him everything and fall into his arms and cry myself dry. Also, I want to feel his body and sweat on me, his weight pressed upon me, opening up my body like a flower bloom in the morning. I want to open myself up to him as a Venus flower unfolds itself to attract its prey. I feel him trace a finger on my lip and capture my right ear lobe between his finger and thumb.
"Open your eyes, I don't even know your real name, let's begin there."
He withdraws his everything from me and I feel naked and cold.
My eyes fly open.
What just happened?
I think I got whiplash from the sudden change of mood. I curl myself on the sofa and hug myself tightly because I feel confused and thrilled all at once. I look at him and he is still looking at me, expecting something from me. What does he want now? I manage to maintain eye contact as my ass sweats bucketloads. If I were butt-naked on this leather, I would probably slide off it with the rate I am sweating. "Your name?" he repeats peeved.
He must think I am so stupid. "I am Blake, people sometimes call me B." I hurriedly get through that sentence.
"Blake who? People have at least two names." He converses still maintaining eye contact. "Blake Taylor," I respond.
"What an unusual name. It sounds like you are a guy." He comments cocking his head to one side. Oooh! He wants an explanation, I will not cave in that easily into indulging my whole history when I don't know him. Regaining myself from the jaws of nervousness and anxiety I smile for the first time since he arrived. I watch him sit up straight and evade my stare. That's right Zeus, my turn to make you sweat.
With my confidence back, I speak with my normal voice, "Before I overshare, please share with me, Blake Taylor, Jamal's at least two names." Okay, I do sound a little sarcastic. He runs his fingers along the sides of his mouth where his immaculate beard lines, like all men with beards do, smiles and answers my question, "I am Jamal Ali, and no, I am not a Muslim," he holds out his arm stopping me from asking or commenting and he continues, "I too have an unusual name and I would like to kiss you now." This bastard! He is smooth and so full of himself and I can't but giggle and blush. These are the signs of a woman who is fucked! School girl giggles make common sense leave your body quicker than light.
I lick my lips as an invite, he grabs my cheeks with both his large hands and leans in for a kiss. Before our lips can touch, there is a knock on my door which causes Jamal Ali to drop his arms and sit squarely perpendicular to me………..Aarrgh! I will never get laid today at this pace.