May the Best Man Win (2 page)

 

I jumped up out of a good sleep to the sound of some fool banging on my door. I lived in a pretty decent neighborhood in the suburbs of Baltimore County, Maryland. My neighbors were quite uppity and this sound just wasn't tolerated. I scrambled to get myself together and focused my eyes on the clock on my nightstand. It read 7:15
A.M.
Now I was pissed. I liked to sleep in on Saturdays, especially when I had no man in my bed. I moaned and groaned as I slipped on my housecoat and slippers, making my way downstairs to the door. My house was immaculate and I glanced around to make sure that everything was in place. I glanced into my full-length mirror on my living room wall to make sure my hair wasn't all over my head before I opened the door.

The banging sound echoed throughout my quiet home causing me to hurry my pace.

“Okay, this is ridiculous. This better be Publishers Clearing House and Ed McMahon rose from the dead with a huge-ass check, because all this noise whoever this is is making is uncalled for,” I mumbled to myself as I unlatched the locks to my door.

I opened the door and—guess what—no Ed McMahon. No check. Nothing. Just a fool. Just like I thought, Ronald was standing in my doorway with all the fineness he could muster up. About six feet tall with deep brown eyes, tight curly black hair, and he had a creamy chocolate complexion that was my weakness. I loved brothas! I mean real, sexy brothas who knew how to use what they had. And Ronald had everything going for him but a damn job. He stood in the doorway looking at me like I owed him something when, in actuality, he owed me. The last time I saw him, he had borrowed some money and that was right after he got a good nut off on me an hour before. That was about two weeks ago. Sorry-ass mother-ump-ump-ump.

“Hey, Kardell, baby.” He flashed his pearly whites.

He got no response.

The first time I met him was at the supermarket. He was standing outside the market doing only God knows what. He offered to help me with my bags. I looked him up and down.
Pretty hot and tempting,
I thought. I said yes and headed toward my car with him in tow. I got to the car, pressed the button on my key ring that popped the trunk, and started loading the bags that I had in my hand. He in turn did the same. But, as he did it he rubbed up against my butt with his crotch as he hovered over me. I instantly jumped and turned to see if it was an accident. I was pinned between him and the car. The look on my face said it all. I was appalled and turned on at the same time. How dare he assume I was gay, and easy, too?

Feeling you, touching you, groping you, slobbing you down. That's not all I want to do to you.

“Look . . .” I paused, looking around again. “You
are
good-looking and all, but how did you know I wasn't straight?” He laughed. I didn't.

I laughed. He just smiled. I took a quick glance at his bulge. It was adequate from what I could tell. My mind was like,
Damnnnnnnnnnn!
But I held it together, trying not to let on to being into him. I was easy by nature—something that I hated about myself.

I should have known then he was going to be a pain in my ass.

I was brought back to the present by Ronald kissing me on the lips.

“What do you want?” I asked tired, pissed, and leaning up against my front doorpost. And his juicy lips just made me even more pissed that he was such a loser. I was mad at me for accepting it, too.

“Kardell, baby, you know what I want,” he said, pushing past me and making his way into my house.

“No, tell me,” I said, closing the door, trailing behind him like it was his house and not mine. His confidence was ridiculous and hypnotizing. And his muscular shoulders reminded me of his strength in bed. He also had an ass to die for. All of these things were my weakness.

“I missed you, babe.” He was now in my kitchen and in my refrigerator, pulling out something to eat. He had nerve.

“I guess two weeks will do that to you,” I said sarcastically as I sat down at my kitchen table and watched him.

“Baby, you know I was out taking care of business.”

He was jobless. It was the only kind I attracted. Funny, I say. So what he was doing for the two weeks that he was gone, I didn't know. In the four weeks that I had known him, I found out he was jobless and he lived with a relative. He had no kids, no girl on the side, and no diseases.
Why is he still here?
I asked myself.
Four words: I must be desperate.

I sat at my kitchen table and watched Ronald fix breakfast for one: himself. He looked like Chef G. Garvin when he moved around the kitchen. I shook my head at all the wasted talent and sexiness. Why did I allow this behavior? I must have been crazy. Certifiably so.

He was excellent in bed and that was his only plus. Everything else he took: my money, my time, and now my patience. He finished his food, threw the plate in the dishwasher, and headed toward my bathroom. I stayed at the table, contemplating dating women. They had to be easier.

I heard the shower running, so I made my way toward my bedroom. There was a trail of clothes up the stairs and down the hallway that led to the bathroom. Like a neat freak, I picked them up and threw them in my hamper.

After about fifteen minutes, he sauntered out of the bathroom in the nude. I was lying in the bed, watching television, trying hard to ignore him. But I couldn't help it. I watched him go toward my linen closet and grab a towel. He toweled himself off, threw the towel in the corner, and climbed into bed with me. Okay, I know what you are saying. This Negro had balls. Well, yes, he did and big ones, literally, and that was why I put up with him. I pretended to be engrossed in a television show, fighting hard to not give in to his banging body, which was now pressed up against mine. He smelled good, too. I loved a clean-smelling man. It woke up every part of me that should have stayed asleep.

He started with my ear. Small circles with his tongue at first until my entire ear made its way into his mouth. His dick was pressed up against the back of my thigh and I felt it throbbing. Then it started. My dick began to rise. I was a goner; he took his hand and turned my body toward his. He kissed me softly, and then he pulled me in tightly. Fighting was futile and I knew it. His hands massaged my back and moved down to my butt. He squeezed hard and long. I was at his mercy. My legs had a mind of their own as I wrapped myself around him. He rolled over on his back and I straddled him. I reached over, fumbled through the nightstand, and pulled out a condom. He quickly eased the condom on and I eased down on his dick like a hot knife cutting through butter. He was well endowed and each time we had sex I had to get used to his size all over again. It was that good pain, too. I started slow, up and down.

“Mmmmmmmmm,” he moaned. “This is what I was looking forward to all day.” he slapped my butt and palmed it like a basketball. That sent me into overdrive and before I knew it I was rodeo riding and holding on for dear life.
Buck 'em. Ride 'em.
After about twenty minutes he came and I pulled off and lay next to him, sweaty and drained.

After a couple of minutes, I heard my house phone ringing. I rolled over, picked it up, and answered.

“Hello,” I answered, annoyed that whoever it was calling was ruining my sexual high.

“Is Ronald home?” I heard a man's voice.

“Is Ronald home?” I wondered the same thing out loud. “Who is this?” I said with an attitude. Ronald followed up behind me with the same question.

“Who is that?”

“Tell him it's Tony,” the stranger said as if Ronald was paying bills here.

“Tony?” I repeated, confused. “You have the wrong number,” I spoke before I knew it.