Going Down (6 page)

I used my tongue to slop around her thick chocolate nipple. “You tasted so damn good,” I told her.

“Bite it,” Ebony said softly, and I complied with her request. I bit at her nipples and used my fingers to stroke and caress the wetness between her thighs.

Ebony kissed her way down my chest, and before long, she was kneeling down between my open legs. She held my dick in her hand and licked my balls. “That feels so good!” I said, encouraging Ebony to keep it up. And she did, before trying to take my entire dick in her mouth.

“You like that?” she pulled back to say as she gazed into my eyes as best she could, with the water raining down on her head.

“Yes,” I managed to get out, and Ebony continued to suck my dick like she was trying to make sure that I would call her again. The girl definitely had skills, so there was no question in my mind that she would hear from me again. I guided her head because I didn’t want her to go too fast or too slow. I wanted it to last; she was sucking my dick so damn good. When I got Ebony just where I wanted her, I arched my back against the wall as far as I could go.

“Why don’t we take this to the bed, so I can do you right,” she said.

Once I was spread eagle on the bed, Ebony went right back to work. I propped a pillow behind my head and watched her work her show. She got up on her knees and worked her way around until she was able to straddle my face. I spread her cheeks a bit and parted her lips. I used my wet tongue to flicker back and forth across her clit. I could hardly concentrate on what I was doing, because Ebony was making it feel so damn good.

I took turns between spitting and sopping, and holding her clit between my lips. She played with my nipples while she worked. Ebony and I worked each other like we’d been fucking each other for years, and the shit felt incredible. “Oh yes!” she cried. “I’m about to cum.”

I left Ebony’s apartment thinking about Diane. She was the total package. She was beautiful. Pretty smile with the cutest dimples. She had the kind of eyes that got your attention and looked through you. She broke my heart, then I met Lisa and she just fucked everybody. Now, I don’t let them get too close. Women tell me I don’t share well. And they’re right, I know they are, but I always hold back, keep them at arms distance. It offers less chance for me to get hurt.

CJ called me ‘The Untouchable.
’
She says I never let anybody get close enough to touch me, much less hurt me. Everyone except CJ. I let her get close. I fell in love with her at first sight. There’s an energy between us. But instead of going after her, I laid back. Called myself waiting on her to come at me. While I was laying back waiting on her to make a move, Manny was all over her. We all worked together, supporting credit card machines. I had begun doing a little consulting and I needed my mornings free. Money wasn’t that good, but the two-to-ten shift was perfect for what I was doing. CJ and I got to be really good friends working those nights.

It’s that energy between us.

Anyway, within a year, Manny and CJ came back from Vegas married. I couldn’t stand for that. I had to go. So I quit working there and went into business for myself full time. For the last five years, our relationship has consisted of long phone calls, great conversation, and the occasional drink after work. I respect CJ. So for the last five years I never let her know that I was anything more than her friend.

When my flight arrived in Atlanta, I got off the plane and followed the signs to baggage claim along with the rest of the crowd. While I rode the train, I thought about the man I had just killed. That was something that I didn’t do offend, and wondered why I was now. Once I’ve done what I do, I put it completely out of my mind and move on. But not this time. This time I couldn’t shake the images of him lying there with a bullet in his head.

As I got my bags and caught a cab to my hotel, the thoughts persisted and I wondered why I continue to do it. Something else I don’t do. I accepted who I am and what I do, a long time ago. Even though I don’t like the sound of it, I am a serial killer. One who has lost count of how many men she’s killed.

“Maybe I need to get help for myself?” I asked myself as I unpacked. I was starting over in my fifth new city, and wondered if this time would be any different. Each time I move, I always say that this is it, that I am not going to kill again, that I’m going to try to have a normal life, with a normal relationship, but it always happens. I meet men, and I kill them.

I thought about how this all began; what started my path to becoming what I am. His name was John. He was my first so-called boyfriend and he was the first boy that I learned to hate. He took advantage of me at an early age. You see, I have an oral fixation. I went from the nipple to the bottle, to the pacifier to sucking my thumb. No matter what my mother did to try and break me out of it, at the age of twelve, I was still sucking my thumb. That’s was when I met John. He was one of my older brother Harold’s friends. I was just starting middle school and he and my brother were in high school. He came by one day when Harold wasn’t home. He told me that I was cute. Nobody had ever told me that before. He continued to come over in the afternoon to see me when my brother wasn’t home. One day he asked me, “Why you always sucking your thumb?”

“I don’t know,” I said and shrugged my shoulders, “I just do.”

“You got a boyfriend?”

“No.” I giggled.

“I want you to be my girlfriend,” John said.

“Really?” I was so excited.

“Yeah. You ever kiss a boy before?”

“No.” I giggled again. Then he leaned over and started kissing and feeling me all over my skinny little body. I wouldn’t feel him up like he was doing me; I would just hold him and kiss. At the time, I had only seen people kissing on TV and that’s how they did it, so I didn’t know what else I was supposed to do. That when on for a couple of weeks, and then one day while we were kissing, John put my hand on his dick. It was hard. He pulled down his zipper and took it out. “It’s okay, you can touch it.” He put my hand on it again. “Kiss it.”

“No.”

“You gonna be my girlfriend, right?”

“Yeah.”

“This is what girlfriends and boyfriends do.”

“They do?”

“Yeah, they have sex. This is part of it. We can’t go all the way, because you’re too young for that and we’d get in trouble. But we can do this.”

“Really?” I was so dumb.

“Yeah, but you can’t tell anybody.”

“I can’t?”

“Nope. Not even your girlfriends—nobody. It will be our secret, okay?”

“Okay.” I smiled, ’cause I love secrets. Still do.

“Go ahead. It will be just like sucking you thumb,” John told me that day, but he was wrong. It was better. I enjoyed sucking his dick more than anything and I couldn’t wait until he came over so I could do it. My mother was so happy that I’d stopped sucking my thumb.

This went on for the next three years. We would get to my house and I would suck his dick. It was the only sex we had. We never had intercourse. He told me that when I got to high school, we would do it. I couldn’t wait to get to high school so John could make me a woman. When I got to high school, I got a rude awakening.

I had looked forward to this day for years. No more hiding. He would come in the morning and walk me to school, we’d sit together during lunch, and every afternoon he would walk me home. We would go out on dates. All the other girls would be so jealous of me because my boyfriend was a senor. But it wasn’t meant to be.

On my first day in high school, I found out that my boyfriend, John, already had a girlfriend. One that he walked to school every morning and that he sat with at lunch; and one that he walked home every afternoon. When I confronted him about it, he told me that it was over between us. I was devastated. “After what we did, how can you do this to me?”

“We ain’t do nothing but kiss and stuff. I ain’t never fuck you.”

“I sucked your dick!” I shouted.

All he did was smile. “You were just something to do, Tyhedra,” John said coldly. So I slapped him. He hit me in the face so hard it knocked me off my feet. I ran home crying and told my brother about it, and he went and beat John up for me. But I never did tell him why he hit me or what I had been doing with John. I didn’t tell anybody. I didn’t have to. By the time I was a sophomore it seemed like every boy in school knew that I was a dick sucker. Word had gotten around about what I had done with John, and now they were all trying to get with me. Calling me
Ty
head
ra
behind my back. It made my next three years of high school miserable. I hated John for what he did to me and all the other boys for how they made me feel.

When I went away to college, I thought that things would be different for me. I went to a college far from home where nobody knew me. After a year away, I began to feel better about myself and thought that it would be all right to go out with men. By that time, I was no longer a skinny little girl. My body had developed into the woman that I wanted John to make me. I was getting attention from men and I enjoyed it. I had met this guy named Marvin who lived off campus. I liked him. He treated me with respect, so I finally went on a date with him. Since that went all right, I decided that it was time that I have sex—not just suck dick, which I hadn’t done in five years—but intercourse. I had used a vibrator on myself before and didn’t get anything from it. I thought that it was because it wasn’t real. I needed a man to feel something, or so I thought.

Marvin took me to his apartment one afternoon and we did it. I enjoyed having a dick in my mouth again after all those years, but I got very little, if any, satisfaction from Marvin being inside me. He, on the other hand, thought being inside me was the best thing that ever happened to him. When he was done, Marvin jumped out of bed and quickly began getting dressed.

“Come on, get up, you gotta go,” Marvin said, frantically putting on clothes and grabbing mine from the floor.

“What’s wrong?” I asked and rolled out of bed.

“Nothing,” he said and paused, “It’s just that my girlfriend will be home soon and she can’t find you here. So please, hurry up and get dressed so I can take you back to the dorm before she gets here.”

“You got a girlfriend?” I asked as I took my time getting out of bed. I had the same feeling of hate that I had when I found out that John had been using me.

“Yes,” he said coldly.

“So what was I, just something to do?”

Marvin smiled. “I like you, Tyhedra, but yeah, we’re just foolin’ around, havin’ some fun. You know, something to do.”

I didn’t say another word. I just got dressed and walked to the door with Marvin close behind me. I opened the door and went out into the hallway and looked down the long stairwell that led to his apartment. I couldn’t believe that it happened to me again—used by another man. The rage built up inside me. He came out and turned to lock the door. When he turned around and faced me, I pushed him down the steps.

As I watched him tumble down the steps, I felt another feeling welling up inside me, but this time it wasn’t rage that I felt. When he got to the bottom of the steps, my whole body begin to shake from the inside out. I closed my eyes and my mouth fell open and I let out a sigh. I walked down the steps and looked at Marvin, he hadn’t moved. I walked out of the building and started to make my way back to the dorm on foot. That’s when I noticed that my panties were drenched and had soaked through my jeans. I found out the next day that Marvin was dead. It didn’t take me long to realize that I got an orgasm, not because of sex with Marvin, but because I killed him.

 
After that, I tried to deny it. I met another man; his name was Charles. He was good to me, and he treated me with nothing but kindness and respect. As time went on, I began to believe that all men weren’t pigs. I stayed with him for the rest of my days at college and we had sex on a regular basic. It was great for him. I’ve been told that I have good pussy and I’m an awesome dick sucker, so you know he loved that. But for me, sex was always unsatisfying. No matter what I did or what he did to me, I never had another orgasm. Never even came close.