Curvy Girl Summer

Chapter 11

“Even though you couldn’t come back for the concert, I hope you’re finding something to do with your time,” I told Jazmyn as we were concluding our call. “Getting out would be good for you.”

“I know. I know,” she sighed. “It’s just been a long summer.”

“I’m sorry, girl. Let me know if you want us to come down for a weekend.”

“I appreciate it, but it’s just a lot of work to be done. It wouldn’t be any fun, and I wouldn’t want you to waste a trip.”

“It wouldn’t be a waste. I’m here if you need me. And Nina feels the same way.”

“I know. Thank you.”

“If you change your mind, just say the word.”

“Okay. Thanks. I really do appreciate it. Now you go shake off that date with Mike and just enjoy the concert.”

“Yes, ma’am. And I’ll send you pictures and videos.”

“Thank you.” She paused. “For everything. I’ll talk to you later, girl.”

She sounded sad, tired, and maybe a little overwhelmed.

I resigned myself not to push the issue and let her conclude the call. My heart went out to her. I knew she was dealing with a lot, and going back home for the entire summer was the last thing she wanted to do. I felt bad that while she was dealing with such heavy stuff, Nina and I were going to a surprise concert by one of our favorite artists.

The pop-up event featuring India Davis would’ve been just the Saturday-night thing that Jazz, Nina, and I would’ve been first in line to attend. But Jazz was out of town and Nina was meeting me at the venue after her date, so I dressed in a formfitting, shimmery pink dress and headed out alone.

My phone vibrated just as I was about to toss it into my bag.

“I know you’re not calling me from the date,” I answered with a smile.

“Girl,” Nina replied.

I stopped in my tracks. “Everything okay?”

“I’m dressed like a fucking video vixen right now, and after being an hour late, this dude just texted me and canceled.”

“What?”

“Yeah. So, he’s done.”

“Did he give a reason?”

“No. But honestly, it doesn’t matter. If you cancel on me, I’m over it. If you cancel on me after being an hour late, you’re dead to me. Because honestly, why did you even reach out?”

I snickered. “Dead to you? Really, Nina?”

“Really,” she confirmed with finality. “But everything happens for a reason. Because of that man’s death, I will be able to catch the whole India Davis show with my best friend.”

“I’m sorry about your date, but I’m glad you won’t miss the opening acts, and we can be there together. His loss is my gain.”

“Look at God!”

“Rest in peace to… what was his name?”

“The departed,” she deadpanned.

I cackled.

Nina and I met at the Lyric Lounge twenty minutes later. She was five foot ten without heels on, so I could spot her in a crowd easily. But not just because of her height; her bold style stood out. Her full figure was scarcely covered in a two-piece outfit. The bra-like top could barely cover her large breasts, and as she made her way toward me, men gawked. She paid them no mind as she passed by them, but I knew her well enough to know she was loving the attention.

After a quick hug and an exchange of compliments, Nina and I got in line. We were only waiting for about ten minutes before they let in the first wave of people. Because we were early, we got a great spot on a platform to the right of the stage. Everyone assumed rushing the stage and trying to be in the front row was the best place to be. But as I swept my eyes over the room, it was confirmed that we had the best vantage point in the building.

The Lyric Lounge was one of my favorite venues. The sound quality was amazing. No matter who performed, their voice was magnified and beautifully highlighted in the state-of-the-art sound system. We could be anywhere in the building, and it would sound great. But my favorite spot offered a bird’s-eye view of the stage, of the artist performing and feeding off the crowd, of the crowd engaged and vibing with the artist. Sometimes I’d come to shows and just people-watch, taking it all in.

“I left my umbrella in the car!” I realized with wide eyes.

“I didn’t think it was going to rain until after midnight, so I didn’t even bring one.” She pouted. “Hopefully, it won’t rain until late, and we’ll be good.”

“I hope so.”

She wiggled her eyebrows. “You know what’ll fix this?”

“Drinks!” we said in unison.

“I’m going to get us drinks. Two each,” Nina announced. “I’ll keep my head on a swivel to see if there are any potentials for us on the way to the bar.”

“Oh!” I gasped. “That reminds me.” I pulled my phone out and opened the TenderFish app. Showing her the man who had messaged me a couple of days ago, I filled her in. “This guy asked me to meet up with him on Friday, but because I already have a date with Silas, I had to push him to next week. But on the way here, look what he said.”

I watched her face as she read the message from the sexy and poetic Lennox.

With an open-mouth smile, she glanced up at me. “If you give me the opportunity to know you, I’ll make the most of it,” she read. “Oh, he’s smooth! I like that energy.”

“Yeah.” I took the phone back from her. “He’s talking a good game.”

“Well, I’m still going to keep an eye out for potentials. There’s nothing wrong with having more than one in the mix. A little competition never hurt no one.” She winked. “Gotta have at least four on the roster.”

Amused, I shook my head. “I’ll hold our spots,” I said, widening my stance and taking up more room.

She rushed off to the bar and not even two minutes later, a group of people stormed the platform.

“Excuse me,” a woman said, nudging me gently.

My nose wrinkled and my forehead creased as she was trying to wedge herself between my body and the rail I was leaning against. “Uh… what are you doing? This is where I’m standing,” I told her.

“You could move over.”

I tightened my grip on the railing. “My friend and I are here. You can find a different spot.”

She huffed and looked over at her friend—a man—and stamped her foot. “She won’t move, Stephen!”

The man she was with approached. “Can you please let her get your spot? Please. India is her favorite artist.”

“No. I’m not going to give up my spot.” I turned my back to the both of them.

She mumbled something inaudible.

“Talk as much shit as you want. You’re not getting my spot.” I tossed the words over my shoulder with a shrug.

“It’s not fair!” the woman wailed loudly as I continued staring down at the growing crowd. “It’s not like I can see around her.”

“Then go somewhere else,” I retorted even though she wasn’t talking to me.

My fingers tightened around the metal rail. It took everything in me not to turn around and curse her out. Because even though she wasn’t saying exactly what she meant, I could read between the lines.

“Just great! Another one,” she grumbled as Nina appeared next to me. “How am I supposed to see with the two of them in the front?”

Nina, not missing a beat, handed me my drink and then turned to glare at the woman. “What was that?”

Nina towered over the shorter, smaller-framed woman. I glanced over my shoulder and watched her cower slightly. She looked unsure if the verbal confrontation was going to turn physical.

Because I knew Nina wasn’t going to fight, I smiled at the fear that flashed in the thin woman’s eyes.

Even though she ignored Nina’s question, she continued complaining to Stephen and the others in her group. “Let’s just go somewhere else. It’s not enough room for all of us over here.”

“It sure isn’t!” Nina yelled behind them. Turning, she flashed me a confused look. “What was that all about?”

“She wanted our spot,” I answered with pursed lips.

“Don’t they always?” she replied.

We both laughed.

The crowd below was packed to maximum capacity, and the crowd behind us was just as tight. The air-conditioning was working overtime, but it was as if warm air was being blown around. I looked at the people below and shook my head. If it was hot where we were, I could only imagine how the people down there felt.

“Oh!” Nina exclaimed. “Look at him.”

“Who?” I wondered.

“The one in the white shirt. He’s walking through the crowd toward the exit sign. Right there! Walking with the girl with the ponytail.”

I followed her pointed finger toward the speaker on the far side of the stage. “I don’t see…” My sentence trailed off as I laid eyes on the man she was talking about.

“He looks good as fuck,” Nina observed, bumping me with her hip.

I swallowed hard as I watched him disappear through the doorway. He did look good. He also looked very familiar. “I think that was Ahmad.”

“What?”

Blinking rapidly, I nodded. “That was Ahmad.”

“That was Ahmad who?”

“From Onyx. The bartender.”

“The one who you said was like your wingman?”

I nodded.

“Shiiiiiiiiiiiiit.” Waving a dismissive hand, she gawked at me. “That’s not what wingmen look like. That’s a damn leading man. You said he was giving wing, and the whole time, you should’ve been giving him thighs and breasts.”

I howled.

She pointed again even though he was long gone. “You mean to tell me that you’ve been chatting it up with a man who looks like that, and you haven’t shot your shot? Or at least called me to come down to the bar with you so I can shoot mine?”

Amused, I shook my head. “He’s married.”

“Oh, I forgot you said he was ‘married’”—she did air quotes—“and therefore off the market. Damn shame. I didn’t know he looked like that. Mm-mm-mm.” She paused for a moment. “Is he happily married? Openly married?”

“Nina!”

“Fine! You got dibs. It’s only fair since you saw him first.”

I waved her off. “I’m not calling dibs on a married man.”

“I wouldn’t go after a married man, but a girl can still look. What’s the name of the bar again?”

I shook my head. “What is wrong with you?”

Before she could answer, the lights dimmed, and a strong voice pierced through the noisy crowd. Everyone went wild before quieting and enjoying the opening act. Even though I was enjoying the unknown performer’s vocalizations, I glanced toward the exit where I’d last seen Ahmad.

My mind kept filtering back to him—wondering where he’d disappeared to, wondering if the woman he was with was his wife, wondering if he got the backstage pass to meet India Davis. It hadn’t hit me how little I knew about his marriage. His drinking preferences, his favorite foods, his weird quirks, his dynamic with his friends, and his thoughts on various songs, I knew. We talked about life and laughed about everything, but I didn’t know much of anything about his romantic life.

Was the woman he was with his wife?

The thunderous applause at the end of India Davis’s set was well-earned and well deserved. She killed her performance. The entire show was a good time, and I’d almost forgotten about the incident over our spot until we were leaving.

“If I didn’t just get my nails done, I would’ve slapped that bitch,” Nina commented loud enough for the woman to hear. When she glanced over her shoulder at us, Nina pointed. “Yes, you.”

It took everything in me not to laugh out loud. Because of Nina’s stature, some people found her intimidating. Nina talked shit, but she didn’t actually fight. She often described herself as a lover, not a fighter. And for as long as I’d known her, she had never so much as gotten angry enough to want to physically assault someone—which is why I was so amused by Nina’s posturing.

“—talking like you want me and my girl to address the situation outside,” Nina continued.

Snickering, I had to cover my mouth with my hand and turn my head.

While Nina chose not to fight, I was 100 percent certain I couldn’t fight. If anyone in our group was going to fight a battle, it would’ve been Jazz. But it was just us, and I didn’t know why she was starting stuff.

“You’re going to feel funny if that girl tries us in the parking lot,” I whispered, still laughing.

“I already have my phone out ready to call the police if she does,” she returned as we exited the building into the light drizzle.

The two of us cracked up.

“I thought I heard your laugh,” a deep voice commented just as we stepped onto the sidewalk. “It’s funny because I was just thinking about you.”

My stomach flipped, and I stopped in my tracks.

“Watch it!” a lady cried out as she bumped into me.

“Sorry,” I distractedly called over my shoulder as my eyes stayed locked on the man staring at me. My pulse quickened, and there was a distinct throb between my thighs. “Ahmad, hi!” Moving out of the way, I stood in front of him. “You were here?”

It was a dumb question. I knew it the moment the words left my mouth. But I was so caught off guard by his presence that it was the first thing that came to mind to say.

“No, I just hang around outside of venues and wait for people to come out,” he replied sarcastically.

“Ah,” Nina mused from beside me. “A parking lot pimp.”

“Exactly.” With a light chuckle, he popped open the umbrella in his hand and positioned it between me and Nina. “Here.”

Our fingers brushed as I took it from his grasp. The sensation spread through my entire body. His touch lit something within me, and I wasn’t expecting that. Ignoring the softness of the gesture and the way my stomach flipped, I squared my shoulders.

“I was just surprised to see you. I know you love India Davis, but in general, your taste is usually so questionable, I didn’t expect to see you,” I retorted, trying to recover from earlier.

“I told her I like chitterlings, and she’s been on my ass about it ever since,” he told Nina before looking back at me. “But the only questionable thing I’ve done recently is associate with you.”

I quirked an eyebrow. “Best decision of your life.”

His grin grew. “Hardly.”

Resting my free hand on Nina’s arm, I introduced the two of them. “Ahmad, this is my best friend, Nina. Nina, this is—”

“Your wingman from the bar,” she interjected, taking his outstretched hand. “The bartender. You never mentioned how sexy he is.”

“He aight,” I lied, rolling my eyes.

“Thank you, Nina. It’s nice to meet you.” He stepped back, crossing his arms over his chest and directing his next comment at me. “Just aight, huh?”

I ignored the way the slightly damp material stretched across his biceps as he smirked at me. “Yeah, you aight,” I confirmed. “You’re not bad. You cool.” I made a face. “Don’t fish for compliments. It’s beneath you.”

He chuckled. “See… and I was going to say you look incredibly beautiful. But now I’ll just say I hope you and Nina get home safely. Although I have no doubt you will.” He paused. “Nobody is fucking with the Pink Panther.”

My jaw dropped. “You know what…”

Nina stifled her open-mouth laugh. “Too far!”

He started humming The Pink Panther theme song, which only added to Nina’s amusement. I tried my hardest not to laugh as I glared at him.

“Ahmad!” a woman called out from the corner of the street. “Ahmad! It’s here!” She pointed to a car stopped at the intersection.

I recognized her.

It was the woman from the bar. She was too far away for me to see the details of her face, but I knew it was the woman Ahmad had so much chemistry with. I didn’t recognize her with the ponytail at first, but I remembered her voice.

Damn. Thatis his wife.

My gut twisted with guilt and an unnamed emotion.

He looked back at her and held his hand up. “Okay!” he yelled back as he took a couple of steps away from us. “Nice meeting you, Nina. Aaliyah, it was tolerable as always.”

“Barely,” I replied with a smile. “Don’t forget your umbrella.”

He shook his head. “Keep it. Wouldn’t want you to get wet.”

There was a throb between my legs as I pushed off the thoughts his words provoked. The second drink I’d had was strong, and I wasn’t doing a great job keeping my hormones in check. I just prayed my face didn’t betray me the way my body did.

I didn’t want him—he was a married man. I was just physically attracted to him and having an incidental reaction to being caught off guard by the sight of him.

I cleared my throat. “Thanks.”

He smirked. “See you Monday?”

I nodded. “See you Monday.”

Turning on his heels, he jogged over to the woman standing at the crosswalk.

Silently, Nina and I watched him take her umbrella and open the door for her. After they both climbed into the vehicle, we watched it disappear around the corner before any words were spoken.

“Ah-mad is ah-sexy-ass man,” Nina observed, looping her arm with mine and taking the umbrella from me. “You weren’t holding it high enough.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s cool. Tall-girl problems.” She let out a whistle. “No, but seriously, Aaliyah. He’s the total package.”

“Yeah,” I agreed. “Lots of good qualities.”

“He’s sexy and he’s funny. He really called your ass the Pink Panther.” She snickered. “That was funny as fuck.”

“It wasn’t that funny.” I rolled my eyes with a smile. “That’s how it is with him, though. Just nonstop jokes and good vibes.”

“I saw a spark between them jokes, though.”

“You didn’t see no damn spark!”

“I did!” She tightened her grip on my arm. “He couldn’t keep his eyes off of you.”

“He was roasting me.”

“Nah, but he wanted to roast you.”

“What?” I sputtered, making a face. “What does that even mean?”

She wiggled her eyebrows. “Oh, you know.”

Laughing, I swatted at her. “You always make everything sexual!”

“Everything is sexual. And if you didn’t see that man checking you out, you are blind.”

“First of all, he’s married. Second of all, I’m not his type.”

“What’s his type?”

“His wife,” I answered. “And India Davis.”

“You know what? If that was his wife, she kinda looks like India Davis. She has the same shape,” she pointed out.

There was a tightness in my chest as I nodded.

I’d noticed that, too.

“But you know what else I find interesting?” Nina continued.

I cleared my throat. “What’s that?”

“There might be trouble in paradise.”

My face crinkled in confusion. “Huh?”

“Ahmad was over here talking to you while his wife continued walking.”

“She was obviously looking for their ride.” I shrugged. “And I’m sure she trusts him. I’ve witnessed him turning down women and respecting his marriage.”

“But he also gave you this”—she shook the umbrella—“on some knight-in-shining-armor shit.”

“He also offered to watch my back while I meet random men from the internet. He’s just a good guy.”

“And the most damning evidence,” she continued as if I hadn’t combated her other arguments. “You two have crazy chemistry.”

I thought back for a moment. “Our friendship is why we have chemistry. We’re really comfortable with each other. That’s all.”

“Nah, this was not friendship chemistry. This was romantic chemistry. This was sexual chemistry. This was AP chemistry.”

I laughed it off. “You are seeing what you want to see. This man was literally with a woman, and he faithfully wears a black band on his left ring finger.”

Her lips twisted contemplatively. “So, maybe that woman wasn’t his wife.” She sucked in a sharp breath as if she had an epiphany. “That’s probably why he didn’t introduce you to her! That’s why they kept their distance! He was waiting at the door, and she was down the block. She was playing her position! Oh, she’s good.”

“No, no, no.” I waved the speculation off. “That can’t be it. He wouldn’t do that.”

“He’s a man. Men cheat.” She made a face. “I mean, women cheat, too, but men cheat like that”—she jerked her thumb back behind us—“all out in the open with no finesse. Just sloppy.”

“But Ahmad isn’t like that. He’s…” I searched for the right word to describe the man I’d come to know and genuinely like. “He’s not like that.”

“If you say so…”

“He’s a happily married IT guy—”

“Some of the worst offenders are in IT! Have my dating stories taught you nothing? Behind professional athletes, doctors, nurses, call-center employees, truck drivers, military members, and bartenders, the top cheating-ass man is in IT.”

“You’ve named damn near the whole workforce.”

She opened her arms, leaving us both exposed to the almost nonexistent drizzle coming down. “Exactly. Cheating-ass men are everywhere.”

“And what fields are cheating-ass women in?”

“We are in the field of minding our business and not getting caught.”

I laughed. “What is wrong with you?”

“I’m just telling it like it is.”

I got home from the concert, and I felt that familiar throb between my thighs reminding me that I hadn’t taken care of myself in a while. It had been a long week, and I just wanted to take a bath, relax, and get myself off before bed.

But as I placed the umbrella next to the coatrack, my mind went to Ahmad. Even after the long, hot bath and the glass of wine, I still couldn’t stop thinking about Ahmad for some reason. Seeing him out of context at the concert really threw me for a loop.

Nina spent an hour and a half trying to convince me that Ahmad would leave his wife for me. After reminding her that I don’t break up happy homes, I explained the content of his character. Even without knowing him long, I knew for a fact he was one of the good ones. For all the shit we talked, I liked him, and I respected him, and I respected his marriage.

After the wine and the bath, I still didn’t feel as relaxed as I wanted to feel. While I moisturized my body, Ahmad briefly crossed my mind again. Even though I knew he wasn’t into me romantically and I knew he was happily married, flashes of how he looked at me, how he spoke to me, how he looked out for me rushed in. While I knew Nina was being extreme, I had to admit that Ahmad and I had chemistry. But we were just friends, and our relationship was just friendship.

Nothing more, nothing less.

Remembering how he looked standing outside that concert venue, I had to admit that I was attracted to him. There was no way I could lie and say I didn’t see the artwork God put in when he created Ahmad. That was just a fact. That wasn’t inappropriate. That was just a fact of the matter—Ahmad looked good as fuck.

My mind drifted to how he always looked good at the bar no matter what was going on, how good he looked at the concert, and how good he looked in general. That was a normal observation. That made sense.

What didn’t make sense was the intensity of the throb between my legs as I thought about Ahmad’s physical appearance.

Yet another reminder that I haven’t been taken care of in a while. Not by me or anyone else.I looked down at my naked body and then over at my nightstand drawer.

No time like the present.

I checked the time.

If it took me half an hour to find porn that I was in the mood to watch and that was going to get me off and then another fifteen to thirty minutes to masturbate, I was looking at an hour. Glancing at the clock, I sighed.

It was one o’clock in the morning.

On one hand, I’m tired and it’s late. On the other hand, I need to de-stress.

And the way I was feeling, the amount of stress and tension I needed to release, it was feeling like I was only going to need fifteen minutes instead of thirty.

I pulled out a vibrating toy as opposed to my dildo because I had business to take care of.

I stretched my naked body across my bed. Closing my eyes, I let my fingertips brush my skin.

My body stirred.

Grabbing my laptop, I clicked through porn clips until I found a dirty-talking amateur couple. The sound filled my room with want and desire. Palming and massaging my breasts, I tried to clear my mind. Pinching my nipples harder, I just wanted to dull the ache and feel good.

The couple on the screen was putting on a show, but I just needed them as background noise. My intent was to stay focused on me and my pleasure.

I closed my eyes, and Ahmad’s strong hands popped into my mind. As I caressed my belly on the way to my thighs, I saw more and more of him. It wasn’t intentional and I was still not interested in anything more than friendship with him, but the more I tried to think about another man, the clearer Ahmad’s face became. And unfortunately, fantasizing about him touching me seemed to heighten my arousal.

Butterflies fluttered deep in my belly as my fingers brushed against my lips. Realizing how wet I was, I sucked in a ragged breath. Adding another finger along my slit, I spread my wetness around, giving more and more attention to my clit with each pass.

Hit with a wave of arousal, I froze.

What am I doing?

I shook my head and told myself to think about the man who had messaged me on the app. He had movie-star good looks, a great profile, and really good energy. But as soon as I forced the man’s face into my head, it quickly changed to Ahmad’s.

I tried to shake it off and look at the computer screen.

“Do it, do it!” the woman on-screen cried as her partner threatened to smack her ass. “Do it, do it.”

As the encouragement to “do it” rang in my ears, I closed my eyes and let nature take its course.

I moved my hands to my thighs and then spread myself wide again. I wanted to tease myself before bringing the toy in. So, I coasted my hands all over every surface area of my body before cupping my breasts and fondling myself. I began tweaking my hard nipples again, and that time, I didn’t reject the mental image that played in my mind.

Ahmad was standing at the edge of the bed watching me, wanting me, waiting for me. He was stroking his dick as I caressed my body.

“You want to touch me, don’t you?” I murmured aloud.

When the fantasy Ahmad admitted to it, he climbed on the bed and started to feel all over me.

Those weren’t my fingers. They were Ahmad’s.

Those weren’t my hands. They were Ahmad’s.

That wasn’t my touch. It was Ahmad’s.

“Mmm…” A gentle sigh came from deep within me as I fantasized about what I needed, and from a sexy someone who could never give it to me.

My body was on fire as the thought of being touched by him took over. I kept one hand fondling and twisting my nipples as the other hand roamed back down south. With my middle finger, I parted my lips and used my wetness to tease my clit. I moaned as I imagined it was his tongue pressing against me. With a fresh image of him licking his lips in my mind, I sank into the sensation of him using his tongue on me.

It felt so good that I started to get lost in the fantasy.

My eyes were shut tight as I visualized him between my legs. “This is exactly what I need right now,” I whispered aloud.

He licked exactly where I needed him to.

The mental image of his head buried between my legs and his face covered in my juices rushed me to the brink of an orgasm.

“That’s the spot,” I murmured as Ahmad looked up at me. He kept his tongue on my clit as he watched me react to his skills.

“You want me to come for you?” I whispered aloud, imagining Ahmad groaning into my pussy.

I gasped, knowing I wasn’t going to last much longer. The idea of Ahmad was making it impossible to take my time.

Turning on the vibrator, I placed it inside me, coating it with my juices, and then I ran it up and down my slit.

“Ahmad,” I moaned loudly.

The moment the vibrations met my clit, I thrust my hips upward against my hand.

The thought of Ahmad getting up from eating my pussy and sliding his dick into me was all it took. My orgasm crashed over me, and my body shook uncontrollably. That image combined with the steady, constant vibrations against my sensitive bundle of nerves pushed me over the edge before I’d had a chance to really wrap my mind around it.

With perseverance, I kept the vibrator in place even though my legs fought against it. Clamping my thighs together to lock the toy in place, my too-sensitive, yet extremely horny pussy reacted immediately. Ahmad was fucking me, and just the thought of it consumed me. My body became rigid as another wave of pleasure pulsed through me.

My eyes flew open, but I was too far gone to stop. The idea of Ahmad watching me, joining me, eating me, and then fucking me overwhelmed my senses. A third shudder ripped through my body, and I almost knocked my laptop onto the floor.

Crying out loudly, I shook with pleasure, knocking the vibrator away. When I regained control of my body, I grabbed the toy and turned it off.

Breathing hard and unsure of what I’d just done, I stared at the ceiling.

It was just a fantasy.

It wasn’t real.

It didn’t mean anything.

I’d convinced myself that thinking about Ahmad while masturbating was simply because my unconscious mind reverted back to the last man I’d interacted with. It wasn’t a secret that I found him attractive. But he was my friend… just my friend… just my married friend.

Shit. What did I just do?