Kismet (Beyond the Bedroom Series) (3 page)

After hearing my dreams of being someone one day get shot down by my own father, I decided to let whatever people thought of me become my reality and started wearing cornrows straight back, basketball shorts everywhere I went, and carrying my basketball with me like it was my life line. I had a goal and was going to reach it, even if I was the only person to believe in it. No one’s thoughts of me were going to stop me, so why should I put energy into impressing them?

Hanging out with the boys on my team that accepted me landed me into kissing Kim on my 16th birthday. This made everyone’s thoughts of me being a lesbian correct. Kim was on a rival high school basketball team and was a known lesbian; she didn’t try to hide it. She had dated every lesbian or bi-sexual girl in her high school and in our league.

Kim invited me skating to celebrate my birthday and since I didn’t have any friends to celebrate it with, I took her up on the offer. At the end of the night, on our ride back to my house, she pulled over and told me that we should hook up. Not wanting to seem like I wasn’t with it, I agreed by sealing the deal with a kiss. Kissing soon became fingering and finally, full blown sex with hours of amazing head. If there was something I didn’t know how to do sexually, Kim would teach me and made sure I was the best at it.

I had never given head, not even to a boy before, and had no clue what I had gotten myself into. She showed me how to eat her using an orange to help teach her lesson. Cutting the orange into four slices, she peeled all the skin off one slice and placed it on a plate vertically. “This is the pearl tongue,” she said, while she took the next unpeeled slice and laid it horizontally on the plate under the first slice.

“The top half of this piece is the skin between the pearl tongue and the entrance. The peel around the orange is the lips and the bottom half is the entrance.”

I watched her suck and lick on the pretend pearl tongue and then she licked the skin in between the pearl tongue and entrance over and over again. She stuck her tongue in the part of the orange that acted as the entrance and covered her mouth over the whole thing.

While kissing the orange peel, she said, “When you’re making love to a girl you really like, don’t rush it. Kiss her lips and pearl tongue first. Make her crave you.”

I watched for two minutes or more and then said, “I’m ready.” From the way Kim reacted, I knew I was a fast learner. I had her scooting away from me saying, “You sure you ain’t done this before?” That made me want to keep going and I did. Giving her head not only turned me on, I soon began to cum from it. There is something about the taste of it that turns me on. I can’t explain it, but I now know why men can’t live without it.

In our first year of dating, the rumors of me being a lesbian circulated around my neighborhood and got to my uncle, Steve. I’ll never forget this night. It was after one of my basketball games. Uncle Johnny and I sat outside on my granny’s porch going over my stats like we always did.

“Look, Na-Na, if you want to get picked up by a college, you have to be a team player. Get your assist up; nobody likes a hotdog. Those rumors of there being a professional women’s league is true. I’d hate for it to pass you up because you won’t pass the damn ball.”

Right before I could defend my not passing the ball, Uncle Steve came out the house, walked up to me, and grabbed me by the front of my jersey. “What the hell is wrong with you?” Not understanding what he meant, I asked, “What are you talking about now, Uncle Steve?”

He was a known liar and would go to any lengths to get someone to believe him. I think Uncle Johnny thought he was up to his old tricks again, too; he grabbed Steve’s hand off of me, making him release my jersey.

“So, you’re having sex with that dyke girl, Kim, you always with, huh?”

That was the first time I realized I was lesbian. It was also the first time I saw both of my uncles disappointed in me. I didn’t answer the question; I just looked at both of them hoping they would leave it alone. My uncle, Johnny, told me to go in the house and shower. When I got out, everyone, including my daddy, knew about it and wanted to talk to me about it. No one in that house had ever paid me any attention except for Uncle Johnny, yet everyone thought they could yell at me, including Memphis.

I felt the words come out of my mouth. “Look, I’m 17 years old and will be 18 in two months. If I want to be a lesbian, there isn’t anything any of you can do about it; so deal with it!”

The words came easily, but the slap across the face from my daddy made me wish I would have thought about what I said before saying it.

“I won’t have no lesbian for a daughter, do you hear me, Savannah?” I had gone 17 years without him hitting me, but that night, it all changed. After 20 or more hits from his belt and everyone’s show of disappointment, I promised to act like a girl, date boys, and start making friends.

It was too late for me when it came to my brother, Memphis. He disowned me completely and helped everyone in my neighborhood make fun of me and put me down. He even gave Keisha all the details of what happened between me and my daddy in exchange for sex, of course. I prayed his dick would fall off. To this day, with all the changes I’ve made, Memphis doesn’t talk to me. I saw him when he got out of jail and at my grandmother’s funeral, but he didn’t look my way. Oh well, fuck him, too.

My next task was to break up with Kim and surprisingly, it was easy for me to do because I found out Kevin had a crush on me. I started dating him. I wanted to have sex with Kevin, but I wanted the fairytale sex where he takes my virginity while the sun was rose and soft music played. I knew Kevin wasn’t that kind of guy, so I decided he wasn’t the one. However, I was glad he was there to help me get over Kim.

It wasn’t the same for Kim. She always had girls flirting with her, so I thought she would bounce back from me breaking up with her quickly. It didn’t happen that way at all.

She drove past my house two and three times a day, called my phone all throughout the night, and even went as far as fouling me hard during a game, for which she was given a technical foul.

I had to lie to her to get her to leave me alone. I told her I really wanted to continue dating her, but my father had gotten involved and was monitoring everything I was doing. I asked her if we could have sex one last time and go our separate ways in a better fashion than I had done it the first time, and it worked. When that was said and done, it was time to make friends.

I went straight to Keisha because she was the most popular girl I knew. My father had heard the rumors of her sleeping around with different guys, so she wasn’t on his list of potential lesbians. It was sad that my father would prefer me to be a slut than a lesbian, but whatever made him happy kept me from getting beat again.

Keisha, Christina, and Melinda accepted me into their crew because I provided them someone to make fun of. They treated me like shit and talked about me to my face. I didn’t let it get to me because I had received acceptance letters from eight colleges and had started counting downing to the day I left.

Keisha wanted me to become a hoe like her. I remember Keisha leaving me to walk home from the skating rink because she met some guys that wanted to have sex with us and I refused to go. The next day, she told me that I had left her to handle both of them by herself and owed her big time.

I didn’t even complain about my walk home. I just apologized and told her I wouldn’t do it again. I knew my future didn’t include her or the “Hoe Squad”- the name I called them behind their backs. I had two months to go and when I left, I wasn’t taking any of them with me.

I would dream of Keisha getting AIDS and begging me for help. In my dreams, I would treat her like she was invisible and keep walking. That was evil of me to be excited about something horrible happening to her, but it made it easier to be her friend the next day. I felt like she was the shot caller in the day time and I was the shot caller at night, even if it was in dreamland.

If Keisha’s ass would have ever caught fire, I wouldn’t have spit on her. Instead, I’d barbeque ribs on her ass and have a cookout.

I didn’t think Keisha could do me any worse than the way she treated me until she broke the camel’s back by sleeping with Kevin. That was the final straw!

Everybody knew about it, too, and expected me to fight her over it. I wasn’t scary, but what did I look like fighting her over some dick I had already decided I didn’t want?

Keisha even assumed I was going to beat her up. She invited me to her house and asked if we were still cool. I played the role and said “Yes.” It took everything in me not to knock her teeth down her throat.

Keisha messed up, though. She told me she was sorry and I quote, “You can fuck any of my niggas you want; that way, we can be even.” That was consent in my eyes to have sex with Tyrone, her baby’s daddy, later in life.

She never put any restrictions on him. When she gave me permission to “fuck one of her niggas,” she was sure none of them would ever pick me over her. Look how the tables have turned.

Being cool with Keisha is what really lead me to accepting a scholarship to whatever university was furthest away from California. I vowed never to come back to this hell hole until I could sit on my high horse and look down on them like ants; and that is just what I have done.

I accepted an academic scholarship to Georgia Tech, in the heart of Atlanta, and graduated with a BA in Business. I later received my Master’s in business with a minor in accounting at Tennessee State University.

Say what you must about Nashville, but if it was good enough for Oprah, it was good enough for Savannah. It made me feel like I was close to my mother living in Georgia and Tennessee, her two favorite places. I loved, and still love, both of these cities. Guess the apple didn’t fall that far from the tree.

I was able to become someone new. No one knew me, so I didn’t have to hide what I was doing. For eight years, I managed to be in relationships with men and women without anyone knowing.

I had become top accountant at Williams and Williamson Accounting Firm in Atlanta and grossed 90k a year before my personal life started to catch up with me.

I had become a high class hoe. No one knew I was hoeing but me, and I’m my own best friend. Who would I tell?

I started sleeping with old college professors, local police men, city councilmen, business associates, and even clients from the Interstate 75 to the 24 and back.

I rented an apartment in Bellevue, Tennessee, right outside of Nashville and owned a condo in Alpharetta, Georgia, which was 20 minutes from downtown Atlanta.

I never invited anyone back to my house or to live with me. Even when my grandmother passed away, instead of moving my daddy, who was the only person still living in that house to the south; I paid the house off, renovated it, and gave it to him.

That’s another rule; never play where you lay. If you can’t afford a hotel, then do it in the car. Never bring a sex partner back to your comfort zone. You have to have peace and privacy in your home.

If you live by that rule, you’ll never have to worry about losing a night of sleep worrying about someone popping up uninvited or driving to your house to put your tires on flat.

Everyone you meet is not going to be THE ONE, so stop giving access to your kingdom to a court jester. They are in your life for entertainment purposes only. Let them perform for you onstage, not where you wear your crown!

Bringing a sexual partner back to my house was out of the question; I had never done it before and never thought I ever would. I messed up and broke my own rule when I met Dre, which led to the reason why I moved back to Cali.

Chapter 3: Southern Hospitality

Just because you start making money doesn’t mean bad habits stop. They are just easier to cover up with the money that is made. I was then and am still addicted to the smoke which comes from beautiful Mary Jane leaves.

In Atlanta, it was always easy to get weed. I had a coworker who had a connect that supplied me bi-monthly. We met every other Friday for lunch at Houston’s and exchanged cash for a two ounce package in the parking lot. It wasn’t the same for me in Nashville.

Nashville experienced a lot of droughts. That is where your supplier’s supplier has run out of product and you’re waiting on them to get more or re-up, like they call it. I met Dre during one of these droughts.

It was Friday and my Nashville connect told me he was out and wouldn’t re-up until Monday. With a name like Dro, he should have been ashamed of himself for not keeping weed on deck 24-7.

I was fed up with him and had decided that I was going to find some weed even if that meant driving the streets of Nashville.

I threw on a pair of Apple Bottom jeans, a white and gold Apple Bottom blouse with gold pumps to try to blend in with the locals.

I jumped on Briley Parkway and got off on Dickerson Road which was out east. One thing that I have learned while living on this earth is that the East and South sides of major cities always seem to be the ‘hood.