Chapter Twenty
Twenty
I love men. I love men. I love men. I love men.
That was my new warrior chant against pussy.
I called the cable company and told them that I wanted them to block all the music video channels.
“May I ask the reason, Mr.Bodison?”
“Yeah, ’cause they making me straight!” I screamed into the phone like a lunatic.
I realized that it’s not only that damn Beyoncé Knowles: that li’l Jessica Simpson is kinda sexy too. If you like white girls. And I don’t. I don’t even like girls! Or do I? I don’t know, I don’t know!
Lord, why are you doing this to me?
I looked back into the mirror and began my warrior chant again:
I love men, I love men, I love men, I love men.
I hadn’t been out of the house since the last Saturday night when I went to Langston, a gay nightclub on Atlantic Avenue.
I was having a good time. Ran into some friends of mine.
We were all drinking, dancing, and just acting the fool.
I was feeling so gay ! I mean the happy kind as well as the homo kind.
Right there on the dance floor, dancing between all the hardbodies to Sylvester’s “You Make Me Feel (Mighty Real),” I felt like the old Noah had finally come back.
And then I saw this brother watching me from the other side of the dance floor.
He was doing more than watching me: he was salivating, and by the time the DJ started spinning “Love Is the Message,” so was I.
He had a body to die for. Muscled arms covered in tattoos. Oh, man, a barrel chest and a neck as big as a trunk. I just wanted to throw myself into his arms!
When I saw him nodding at me, I gave him my sexiest come-hither look. And honey chile, did he come. Just a-strutting!
When he finally made it through the crowd of people, he took my hand and pulled me to him.
Right then and there the DJ announced lovers’ hour an hour early. Go figure!
“Fire and Desire” came on and he pressed his body against mine. We clung to each other for that entire song, and the two that came on after that. His dick was as hard as a rock; I still have the bruise on my stomach.
He told me his name was Rick and asked if he could have my telephone number. I said I was kind of involved but wouldn’t mind taking his.
Rick walked me to the door and gave me a kiss so passionate, I wanted to throw him down right there and then and do him!
But thoughts of my lover, Zhan, kept me from doing that. And besides, I ain’t no ho—don’t get it twisted—but I am human, and a little innocent slow grinding on the dance floor does not a cheater make.
So you wags out there, put your tongues right back in your mouth. I tossed that number in the very first trash receptacle I came across.
It was such a beautiful evening, I decided to walk home.
I love strolling down the residential streets, admiring the brownstone homes, inside and out.
White people are the strangest creatures; they keep the windows of their parlor-floor homes free of window treatments, allowing the world outside to see in.
Delicious—I’ve gotten many decorating ideas by just strolling the neighborhoods.
I’d picked up two new ideas for bookshelves and was seriously considering cutting a hole in my living room ceiling and installing a spiral wrought-iron staircase when it hit me.
I had to pee. I mean, really, really badly.
You can’t be taking any chances pulling your dick out and stealing a piss behind a tree or beside a dumpster anymore.
Those good old days are gone. These white cops are looking to bust a black man for anything.
And shoot, I’m liable to get shot right away if they catch me holding my dick.
So rather than take a chance, I hurried down the street to Brown Sugar, one of the neighborhood watering holes.
When I stepped through the door, I was immediately hit with a sultry singing voice. I turned to see a short, brown-skinned, buxom woman with a mane of fiery orange hair.
Her octave skills were so impressive that I temporarily forgot my pressing emergency.
Our eyes collided as I moved through the crowd and toward the bathroom. Halfway there, a large meaty hand fell on my shoulder. I turned around and looked up and into the ugliest face I’d ever seen in my life. “My God, you are an ugly motherfucker!”
“What did you say?” the seven-foot-six, three-hundred-pound bouncer asked.
I couldn’t believe I’d said it out loud. Sometimes ugliness startles you into verbalizing your thoughts.
I had to think fast and stood on my tippy toes, cupped my hands around my mouth, and yelled into the cauliflower-shaped ear he tilted down at me. “I said my God, it’s hot in here!”
“Yeah it is,” he said, and his eyes rolled hungrily over me.
Oh my God, he was one of my peoples!
I tell you, we come in all shapes, sizes, and ugly nowadays.
“Um, look, little man,” he began, his hand still on my shoulder. “The bathroom is for customers only.”
My bladder was screaming.
“Of course I’m going to have a beer, but I need to drain the snake,” I said.
“Drain the snake”? Where the hell did that come from? Wasn’t that a straight expression? Didn’t Guido white boys say shit like that?
It was worse than I thought.
“All right, man,” Ugly said. “I’ll be watching you.”
And I knew he meant it.
—
Now at the bar. My bladder was empty, but my eyes were struggling to stay open. I was exhausted and knew if I had another drop of alcohol I’d fall asleep standing on my feet, so I ordered a club soda with lime.
As I stood sipping, I perused the restaurant. Brown Sugar was packed wall to wall with patrons. To my surprise there were even a few white faces floating among the varied brown hues. And they seemed to know every word to each soulful song the singer belted out.
I found myself singing along too, and once again my eyes found hers and I swear she winked at me. I hurriedly gave her my back and mentally ran my chant through my mind: I love men. I love men. I love men.
I was still mentally chanting when the band announced that they would be taking a fifteen-minute break. Immediately the room was filled with the sound of quick conversation and laughter.
“Hello.” A sweet voice came from behind me.
I slowly turned around and came face-to-face with the songstress.
“H-hey.”
She squeezed in beside me, expressed her gratitude to some people who approached her with compliments, and then turned back toward me.
She fluffed her hair and her massive bosom jiggled beneath the close-fitting hot pink and red silk dress she wore.
I felt the heat start to build beneath my collar.
“Never seen you here before.”
Her voice was deep and husky and seemed to have fingers, because her words stroked my cheek.
I shuddered.
“Um, I come in every now and again,” I said, looking everywhere except at her. My eyes moved to the door and Ugly was standing there, giving me fish lips.
“Really?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Well, I’m glad you’re here tonight,” she breathed and placed her warm hand on my wrist.
Johnson stirred.
“What’s your name, honey?” she asked, stroking my hand.
I eased my hand from beneath her touch and finally turned to face her. “Noah,” I said, presenting my other hand.
“Candy,” she said as she looked deep into my eyes and took both of my hands in hers. They were warm and soft and I immediately wondered if it would feel the same between her thighs.
Damn.
“Um, is that your real name?” I said, clearing my throat and taking back my hands.
“Yes it is, honey. Do you mind if I call you honey, Noah?” Her plump red glossy lips turned up into a devious grin.
Me, I just shrugged my shoulders.
I turned away from her. Johnson was fully awake now, banging on my briefs, begging me to unzip my pants so he could get a look!
“Stop it,” I bent my head and whispered.
“Stop what?” Candy said, her face puzzled and amused at the same time. Then she lowered her gaze. “What’s going on down there?”
My dick bucked, and I discreetly stuck my hand down into my pocket and tried to adjust it back into an unnoticeable position.
I just grinned like a naughty five-year-old.
Candy sipped from her wineglass for a while, shared a few words with some people, and then turned her attention back to me.
I drained my club soda and was eager to be out, but Ugly was still standing at the door, eyeing me, and I looked around for an emergency exit I might be able to escape through.
“Honey, can I get you another drink?” Candy was so close to me now that I could feel the heat rising off her body. I sniffed and my nose was filled with a slightly musky scent. I knew that odor well; she was already creaming her panties, if she even had any on.
Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh! Let me out now! Johnson was twitching this way and that, determined to bust out. I had to get away from her, and fast.
“No, thank you,” I said, turning to leave, but Candy caught me by the elbow.
“Do you have to go so soon?” she whispered into the back of my neck. All of the hair there stood at attention. “Please,” she uttered, pulling me backward and spinning me around to face her.
“But—” I started to say.
“You can’t go. You have to stay for my next set. I’m going to sing a song just for you.” She leaned in close and brushed her button nose against mine. Our lips brushed and she didn’t even seem upset when Johnson poked her in a happy place.
“Hmm.” She looked down and moaned.
I love men. I love men. I love men.
“Stay right here,” she said and started back toward the stage.
I looked down at my erection.
You know, you’re going to have to fuck her , Johnson said.
I know. I know.
I love men. I love men. I love…
—
I hadn’t left the house since that night.
I’d barely left my bedroom. I called in sick and told my boss that I had a summer flu. I figured, I was going to lick this sickness. So I played gay porn videos all day and night.
“What are you doing in there?” Chevy yelled through the door.
“Leave me alone. I’m sick. Go to work.”
“What’s wrong with you?”
“Go away!”
“Noah!”
“Leave your rent money on the kitchen table,” I said, pulling out the heavy artillery.
I heard Chevy tiptoe away, which is exactly what I knew she’d do.