Authors: Carl Weber

Lookin' For Luv (5 page)

BOOK: Lookin' For Luv

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“Ahhh, Maurice, do you think we could do it one more time?” She was humble, almost pleading.

“Hey, I know I’m good.” He smiled, shaking his head confidently as he wagged his finger at her. “But let’s not get greedy.”

He slipped into his robe. “I’m going downstairs. I’m going to eat in my study and finish up some work.” He didn’t make eye contact once.

Sylvia threw a pillow at the door as he closed it behind him.

“You arrogant motherfucker!” she cursed him. Sadly she walked to her closet and searched until she found a thin, rectangular box. “You won’t let me down, will you?” she sighed, letting a six-inch vibrator slide out of the box.

Downstairs in his study Maurice took two Tums to settle his stomach and pulled the trash can closer to his desk in case he had to throw up. Every time he had sex with his wife lately, he felt as if someone had turned his stomach inside out. The only positive thought he could muster was the relief that now he would be off the hook for another few weeks.

Sitting back in his chair, he could feel some relief as the antacid began to work. The past two weeks had been difficult for him. His high school was ranked among the lowest in New York State in all subjects but English, and that was in jeopardy because a publishing company was trying to lure his finest teacher with a book deal.

He knew he had to find a way to convince the teacher Antoine Smith to stay. If those test scores plummeted, Maurice could quite possibly be out of another job. He slammed his hand on the table as his memory wandered back to the adjunct professorship he had been forced to give up.

As a professor at York College, he had taught basic algebra in their night school program. Many of his students were young girls just barely out of high school, who were taking the night courses to qualify for college admission. In many cases the girls were eager to do well, since their future success was at stake, and Maurice took full advantage of their eager young minds. For two years he had enjoyed the pleasures of over a dozen fine young bodies in exchange for good grades in his class. It was a sexual playground for him. One girl, though, was not quite as naive as the others and reported Maurice to the college administration when he abandoned her in another state after they had made love. Immediately many of the other girls came forward to report similar experiences, and Maurice was forced to leave his position.

Recalling the incident caused Maurice’s anger to flare. He could remember verbatim the letter he had received from the dean. It had left him no choice but resignation.

Dear Maurice,
In light of the sex-for-grades incident you were involved in this past semester, I highly recommend that you resign as associate professor. As I promised, I have been in contact with several of the young ladies involved and they plan to go to the press if you are kept on. Please, as your friend and colleague, I ask you to spare yourself, your family, and the college the embarrassment. Resign before this becomes ugly. An incident like this could very easily ruin your life.

Your friend,
Thomas

As much as the letter had pained him, he had to admit his friend had really saved his neck.

God if I had to do it all over again, I would never have left that tramp in Vermont. Maybe if I’d given the bitch a ride home, she wouldn’t have cried foul.

He had convinced himself that these silly girls asked to be used, and he was sorry only that he was caught. For a while he had behaved simply out of fear of being caught again. But the incident was almost six months in the past, and he was getting restless for a new thrill. Making love to his wife that night had just pushed him over the edge.

He reached into his briefcase and pulled out the index card he had found in the locker room earlier in the day. Smiling, he dialed 1-900-BLACK-LUV and left his message.

KEVIN AND ALICIA

Kevin returned home from work at seven o’clock. Famished, he grabbed a quart of orange juice and the turkey sandwich that he had forgotten to take for lunch. Sitting in his beat-up recliner, he ate and daydreamed about being a star in the NBA. Shortly he was fast asleep and his daydreams became real dreams.

At nine o’clock a fire engine drove by and woke him. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and grabbed the remote. He flicked on BET and caught the end of the 1-900-BLACK-LUV commercial they seemed to be playing all the time now. Seeing it reminded him of his own message recorded a few days earlier. His curiosity was aroused, and he dialed the line to see if he had received any responses.

He nervously waited for the recording. “If you’re calling to retrieve your mail, press three.” As he felt the sweat build on his forehead, he pressed three. “Please enter your mailbox number.” Kevin punched in 2929 and waited. “You have five messages. If you would like to listen to your messages, please press one.” Taking a deep breath, Kevin pressed one.

“Hi, Kevin, my name’s Paula, and I’m a twenty-six-year-old full-figured woman from Queens.” The voice was sultry and immediately captured Kevin’s attention. “I’m light-skinned and love both reggae and sports. I’m also an exceptional soul food cook.” This brought a broad smile to Kevin’s face as he looked down at the half-eaten turkey sandwich on the floor. “I have a real attraction for dark men. The blacker the better. So please give me a call. My beeper number is 555-1231. Sorry I can’t give you my home number, but my husband would kill us both.”

Kevin threw the pen he had grabbed to copy down her number and pounded his fist into the arm of the recliner.
Damn. She had my taste buds going. I could taste her fried chicken and macaroni and cheese. Shit. Why you gotta be married?

“If you would like to save this message, press one; if you would like to delete this message, press two.” Kevin pressed two angrily. “Next message.”

“Hey, baby, I’m Desire. I listened to your message and it really turned me on. How about the two of us getting together for a hot, steamy love session? Just in case you’re wondering, my breasts are a perfect thirty-six C and my ass is shaped like a ripe peach waiting to be eaten.” Kevin gulped hard when he heard her last comment. Snatching another pen from the table, he eagerly waited for her to get to her phone number. “Kevin, I really need a man like you to put out the fire building inside me. Please give me a call at 555-3—” Kevin waited for the last three digits of her phone number, but they never came. Her voice faded away as if she had placed her hand over the receiver, teasing him.

“Oh, noooo. God, please don’t do this to me.” He swore, hitting three to replay her message, again with the same results. Kevin’s thoughts were lustful now, and his main purpose had become finding a sex partner. Anxiously he listened for the next message, hoping it would be someone as tempting as Desire, who actually left her number.

“Hello, Kevin, my name is Sister Mary Pat, from the Gotta-be-Saved storefront church in Jamaica, Queens.” The pleasant voice sounded as if it belonged to an old woman. “I’ve been saved by our Lord, Jesus Christ. Have you? You seem like a nice young man from your message. But nice is not good enough. You need to find Jesus and forget about the lustful thoughts these women can bring about in you. Why don’t you come down to our church and be baptized? Both the Lord and I will be here waiting.”

Kevin looked upward, astounded, as if God had known exactly what he was thinking after he’d heard Desire’s message.

Sister, if I wanna find Jesus on the phone, I’ll call my Mama’s prayer line.
He shook his head.
How do people like her get on these lines, anyway? They need to do somethin’ about that....
He pressed two and hoped for a better message.

“Ay, baby, what’s up?” a seductive voice purred. “My name is Champagne, and I’m nineteen. I’m an exotic dancer, and I’m looking for a man who won’t stress me about my job or the hours I keep. At the same time, I want someone to treat me with the respect I deserve. I heard your ad, which said that you have a good job and a nice body. Those are definite pluses, ’cause a high-maintenance woman needs a man who can take care of all her needs.”

“Stupid gold-diggin’ bitch,” Kevin growled. He pushed two before the message was even over. Disgusted, he was about to hang up, when he heard a very sexy but nervous voice.

“Hello, Alicia, my name’s Kevin. I mean Kevin, my name’s Alicia. Sorry about that. I guess I’m a little nervous. I was listening to your ad and something in it made me leave a message. You know the part where you say you’re not interested in playing games and want someone to keep it simple and down-to-earth? Well, I think that’s me. I’m not promising I’ll go out with you, but I’d love to talk. Give me a call. 555-6443.”

Thoughts raced through Kevin’s mind as he scribbled down the number. She sounded so sincere and straightforward that he was instantly attracted. He was getting tired of the many fast-talking, dishonest people he had met since moving north. Alicia’s message had made her sound ideal, and now he was eager to meet her. He grabbed the phone to dial, but then had a quick flash of reality.

Damn, what if she’s real ugly? Or what if she’s real fine and thinks I’m ugly? What if ...
Kevin stared at the phone.
What if I don’t call and she’s the girl of my dreams?
Picking up the phone, he dialed the number.

“Hello, may I speak to Alicia please?”

“This is she,” a sweet, almost poetic female voice answered.

“Hi, Alicia, this is Kevin.”

“Kevin?” she sounded confused.

“From 1-900-BLACK-LUV.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. How are you?” Her voice tensed.

“A little nervous, to be honest.”

“I know the feeling. I can’t stop my foot from shaking.”

Kevin smiled when he heard that. He liked that she was being honest. No games.

The line was quiet as both of them tried to think of something to say.

“I don’t know about you, but I’ve never been on a blind date. I have no idea what I’m supposed to say or do,” Kevin finally admitted.

“Neither do I.” She laughed.

“Look. Why don’t we make up our own rules as we go along?” he suggested.

“Sure,” she answered, “maybe that way we can get to know each other first.”

“Okay, rule number one. You have go to dinner with me Friday night. No commitment, no expectations. Just two friends trying to enjoy each other’s company.”

“I like the idea of no expectations, Kevin, but is this a date, or what?”

“Why don’t we decide that at the end of the night?”

“Okay,” Alicia answered. “Rule number two. I get to pick the restaurant.”

“Aw’ight, but just remember, I’m a teacher, not a banker.” Both of them laughed.

“Call me later in the week, Kevin, and we’ll make the plans.

“No problem, Alicia. Good night.”

“Good night.”

Kevin hung up the phone with a huge grin on his face. This girl definitely had promise.

Kevin and Tyrone walked into Mama Dee’s soul food restaurant at 8:30 Friday night, both dressed to impress. Searching the bar for a woman in a red dress, both men smiled when they realized that Alicia was not there yet. It had been four days since Kevin’s phone call with her, and he was extremely nervous about their first date. He checked his watch and realized he was a half hour early, not fifteen minutes, as he had planned. Placing his arm around Tyrone’s shoulder, he steered him to the bar.

“Yo, Ty, I ‘preciate you comin’ out here with me tonight, bro.” He ordered two beers as he patted Tyrone’s shoulder.

“No problem, Kev. I still can’t believe you’re goin’ through with this shit.”

“That’s the same thing Antoine said.”

“Don’t worry, Kev. Even if she’s a dawg, an’ I got twenty says she is, I’m here for ya.” Tyrone laughed as he downed his beer and motioned to the bartender for a refill.

“I bet you do, Ty. But this sistah Alicia seemed aw‘ight on the phone. I’m just gonna play it cool and keep it real. Besides, I’m lookin’ forward to having dinner with a nice female.”

“I hear that, Kev. But what you gonna do if she’s a female gorilla?” Kevin laughed at his friend’s joke, but inside he prayed that the joke wouldn’t be on him.

Kevin couldn’t help but notice that Tyrone had already downed his second beer. “Tyrone, man, aren’t you drinking those a bit fast?”

“Come on, Kev, this is pisswater beer. It ain’t like it’s Old E or somethin’.” As he said it, the bartender had already placed a third in front of him. Tyrone turned toward the door and almost choked on his drink. “Damn! Didn’t you say she’d be wearing a red dress?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, brotha, I think she’s here, and she ain’t no dawg either. Homegirl is fine as frog hair.” He gestured toward the entrance.

Trying to look casual, Kevin glanced at the woman. “Whaa! She is fine, isn’t she? Damn, look at those legs.”

BOOK: Lookin' For Luv

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