Boss Lady (40 page)

“Looking for somebody?” I teased him.

He turned and spotted me. He grinned and said, “Yeah, I'm looking for this stunning UCLA college girl out here from Philadelphia.”

“Is she supposed to be coming to your room or something?”

“She said she was. I guess I'll just have to wait and see if she was serious,” he told me.

As we said all this he opened his room door and motioned for me to walk in. There were two double beds in the room. I sat on the bed closest to the bathroom and the front door. He sat on the dresser and faced me.

“So, who are you rooming with?” I asked him.

“This buddy of mine I've shot a few movies with.”

I nodded. I said, “He doesn't mind you kicking him out?”

He smiled. “I would do the same for him. We already have that policy.”

“Oh, so you do this a lot then.” Maybe I was talking too much. I didn't need all of that information. But I did ask him. Maybe I was asking too much.

He said, “Well, it's just a policy based on a what-if. That's not to say it's going to happen every time.”

“So why are you here?”

There I was asking too many questions again. I guess I couldn't help myself.

He said, “We're trying to get in with the in-crowd. It's a work situation thing. We don't all have famous cousins to walk us in like you have,” he stated.

I didn't even want to talk about Hollywood business anymore. I was feeling daring and sexual, so I changed the subject.

I said, “So, why did you feel the need to flirt with me?”

He smiled again and chuckled at me. “Actually, I didn't think of it consciously. It just came out how it came out,” he said. “But I always noticed you at school. I just haven't seen you away from school and looking like this.”

“What, like a debutante?”

He said, “Yeah. So I guess it turned me on a little bit. I mean, I've always been attracted to you, but you seemed like you were all about your work. Either that or you had a man already, so I didn't really bother you.”

I nodded. I didn't know if it was all game or not, but I didn't really care. My girlish fantasies were on my mind, and I just didn't know how to start them. Nevertheless, I still could have waited. But in my frustrations with Tracy and the whole
Flyy Girl
movie development, I was just becoming tired of waiting around for shit. I wanted something to happen. And this was it.

“So, here we are,” I hinted, and I uncrossed my legs.

Anthony chuckled and said, “Yeah, here we are,” but he still didn't make any moves.

I grew impatient with him and said, “So, what do you want to do
with me?” I didn't have all night to play guessing games. I mean, he had started talking fresh to me, now he was getting all hesitant. Did he want my goodies or not?

“What do you want me to do?” he asked me back.

That was the right question to ask me.

I said, “You'll do it?”

“Try me.”

I said, “Okay. I want to know what it feels like if you put your tongue on me.”

He said, “It'll feel good.”

“Well . . . I wanna feel good then.”

He sunk to his knees on the floor right in front of me.

He said, “You do?”

He smelled good, too.

I looked into his dark eyes and said, “Yeah.”

Then he reached out with both hands and caressed my breasts. He started to scratch my nipples straight through my silk with his pinkie fingers, and they hardened instantly.

“Go on and lean back and close your eyes,” he told me.

I leaned back and closed my eyes with my legs still hanging off the bed.

Anthony slid his hands under my dress and found my panty and stocking lines to pull them off.

I relaxed, inhaling and exhaling. It was only sex. And I refused to allow myself to be freaked out about it like Raheema had been in
Flyy Girl.
I was just going to relax and let it happen.

Anthony pulled off my stockings, panties, and shoes, and spread my legs, while placing them over his shoulders. Then he sunk his head between my legs and inside of my dress.

Oh my God,
I thought to myself.
This is it. He's about to do it.

I felt his cold, wet, licking tongue on my good spot and began to shiver. Then he reached up with his hands and started to softly scratch my nipples with his pinkie fingers again.

I moaned and reached down to grab his head through my dress.

“Unnnhhh.”

Talk about feeling good.
Damn!
What did I wait all that long for?

I began to work my hips into his mouth as he continued licking me.

“Uuuuewww, yeaaahhh,”
I moaned to him.

He kept working my nipples with his fingers and my good part with his tongue until I was vibrating on the bed with pulsations running through my body.

I felt all wet down below and nasty, but I wasn't going to tell him to stop. It felt good nasty. I'm not even gonna try and be discreet and lie about it. The truth was the truth, and that man was eating me out like some kind of addictive tropical fruit.

When he finally stopped, my body, mind, and soul were all exhausted. I was all limp on that bed like a peeled banana skin.

Anthony stood up from his position on the floor between my legs and asked me if he could put his thing inside of me.

He said, “I have protection.”

I couldn't even talk. I just nodded to him weakly. There was no sense in stopping him. While I was already wet and nasty up between my legs, I figured I might as well let him finish the job. I didn't feel like moving from the bed anyway. And he didn't even bother to take the rest of my clothes off.

I said, “I'm still in my dress.” I figured he would want to take it off.

He said, “Leave it on. I like that. It's kinky.”

Who was I to argue? I could barely move to take it off myself, so I left it on.

I happened to look down at Anthony's thing while he slid the condom on, and I was scared to death. I don't know what the average size was supposed to be, but it looked like he needed both hands to hold it. So I just closed my eyes and got ready to hold in the pain or scream from it.

As soon as it pushed up inside of me, I tried to pull back from him.

“Oh my God. Wait, wait,” I told him.

He said, “I got it. Just relax.”

I could feel a single tear roll down the side of my face as he entered me. I mean, there was no room left inside of me to move. But he found a way to position his body just right, so that he could slide his big thing in and out of me extra slow. And I made sure to hold on to his hips with both my hands to stop him from hurting me with any sudden movements.

“I got it,” he continued to whisper to me. “It's nice and tight.”

“Is that good?” I whimpered to him.

“Oh, yesss,” he hissed to me. And he started moving faster.

But it didn't hurt anymore. It was starting to feel warm. My whole insides felt warm. It felt like a giant, slippery worm was moving inside my body. So I moved with it. And moved with it. And moved with it.

“Oooh, shit,”
Anthony moaned into my face. His body began to lose its steady rhythm until we became one. I couldn't tell where his body ended and my body began. So I used all of the strength in my arms to pull him down to me and make us a human sandwich.

And it got hot. So hot that I lost control of my mouth and started squealing.

“Nnnnnhhh,”
I moaned to him.

And
“Uuuuuuhhhh,”
he moaned back to me.

Our bodies became a mess of hot wetness as we shook like crazy in each other's arms, burning up and sweating, with my damn silk dress still on between us.

I had to regain my breath for nearly five minutes before I had enough energy to speak again.

I said, “I feel so nasty right now.”

Anthony was still on top of me with all of his weight. When he laughed, he felt even heavier. But somehow it didn't bother me. It just felt warm and comfortable. I guess that's how a man was supposed to feel to a woman. No wonder we fell in love. He could lie on me like that forever, and I wouldn't even care.

He said, “Girl, that felt like . . . it was tailor-made.”

I smiled. I said, “I didn't know that big thing could fit inside of me. That's amazing,” I told him.

He said, “Yeah . . . but it's all about how you work it.”

I said, “So . . . now what happens?”

We both had to breathe in between our words like sprinters at a track meet. I didn't have the faintest idea of how it all worked next. All I knew was that plenty of girls had gotten strung out afterward, while guys only seemed to beat their chests like some kind of
King Kong
movie.

Anthony said, “Well . . . we rest for a while . . . and then if you want . . . we can do it again.”

That wasn't exactly the answer I was looking for, but I definitely
wanted to try it again, if just to see if it would feel the same way it did the first time.

I said, “Okay . . . but this time, we have to take my dress off first.”

He chuckled and said, “All right . . . I'm sorry. I guess I have to pay to take it to the cleaners now.”

That was the other thing I had heard. Guys start making promises that they rarely keep, and then they complain about it when you remind them that they made it. And I didn't even ask for him to take my dress to the cleaners.

I
slept all the way into the afternoon that Sunday, and I had to hide my dress in the trunk of my car until I could take it to the cleaners sometime that week. I was also sore around my private parts, walking carefully and gingerly so as not to bring any attention to myself around Tracy.

I met up with her at the kitchen table after lunch, where I ate Frosted Flakes with milk, and she drank a cup of coffee. She had just gotten in herself.

After a few minutes of silence around each other, she asked me, “What club did you all go to last night?” She was just starting a conversation. She wasn't probing or anything.

I said, “I didn't go to a club.” I didn't feel like making up anything. However, I didn't plan on telling her the truth either. I still wanted to talk to her about all the things Yolanda hipped me to at the party.

I told her, “I didn't feel like clubbing it up last night. All I could think about was the
Flyy Girl
project.”

Tracy pulled the cup of coffee away from her lips and shook her head.

She said, “Girl, you have to learn to let the pieces fall where they fall. You thinking about this movie all of the time is not going to make it happen any sooner.”

I said, “Well, when is it gonna happen? My friends all want to know the same thing. I mean, we went to Philly and did all of that to do what?”

“To start our preproduction,” she told me.

“Well, how long is the preproduction stage?”

“Sometimes producers can build a film for years.”

“This is not that kind of film,” I argued. “All we need is the money and the right people in place. I mean, what happened at the meetings
you've already had? If you really even had them,” I hinted. Was it all a facade?

Tracy asked me, “What are you trying to say, that I've been making things up for you?” She said, “I'll tell you what happens at these meetings. They hee and haw about other projects that they really can't even compare
Flyy Girl
to. And then they talk about what stars would work, or who wouldn't work, and who is available to attach, and who is not available. And then we shake hands and smile at each other, only so the next set of assholes can come in with their movie ideas and do the exact same thing.”

I said, “Well, if you knew that already, Tracy, then why take us to Philly and pretend like we were doing something important, when you already knew what we were up against?”

Tracy stopped cold for a minute. She gathered her thoughts and looked me hard in the eyes. She said, “First of all, I've been telling you the same thing about this movie process for years now, and you still won't get it through your thick skull. So I'm gonna call up Susan and get you in on a meeting with us. Then you can see exactly how things flow out here for yourself. Okay?”

I nodded to her. “Okay.” I surely wasn't going to back down from the challenge. A Hollywood meeting was what I had been asking for.

She said, “Now, second, I wanted to go to Philly for myself just to see if
Flyy Girl
is still a viable film to get excited about. I mean, I haven't done a book signing or whatever for
Flyy Girl
in years, so I needed to see if people were still even interested in it.”

She said, “There's been a ton of new books about urban girls that have come out since
Flyy Girl
was first published ten years ago, including Sister Souljah's
Coldest Winter.
So going back to Philadelphia for a casting call was a litmus test for me.

“And third, I wanted to see what all of the people who were a part of my life story would think about bringing it back to life. Maybe some of them wouldn't want to relive the past. I still haven't talked to Kiwana about it. So yeah, maybe she doesn't think it's a great idea because of the wayward sexuality of my youth. I would have to deal with that all over again myself.”

She said, “So I am not going to allow you to sit here and tell me that I'm not interested in making my story into a feature film, because
I am. I just happen to know that it's a lot more complicated than you think it is. And I also understand all of Hollywood's shortcomings when it comes to black America films, so I'm pacing myself for the long haul.”

I heard everything she said, and I was sympathetic to her points, but at the same time, I didn't feel the need to pace myself. I was still young enough to be gung-ho and reckless. And I'm sorry, but sex was a part of life, and a major reason why so many girls connected to the book. It was all the stuff of reality.