Nasty (9 page)

Knowing he’d hit a nerve, Carlos continued with his attack. “NO! I thought so. What the hell has up and gone wrong? I hope the fuck it ain’t headed for Brooklyn!”

Ophelia called from downstairs, “Carlos, you have company.”

He yelled back, “Coming, Ma.” Standing up, ready to leave, he looked at his brother.
What a doofus
, he thought.
A genuine nerd.
He couldn’t help but feel sorry for him.

“This conversation ain’t over. I’m gonna help a brother out. You coming out with me tonight to Club Zeon.”

“Carlos, I don’t like those places.”

“I don’t want to hear no protests. Be ready in a half-hour.”

Carlos left Jonathan’s room but poked his head back in and pointed to a nightstand where a half-empty jar of Vaseline rested. “And throw that shit out. After tonight, you won’t need it anymore.”

Angry with himself, Jonathan slammed the door behind Carlos. What was wrong with being a virgin? He was handling his sexuality his way. The truth was, he was glad his older brother was taking an interest in his virginal status because he knew he’d get different answers about “doing the nasty” from Carlos, the sexual renegade in the family. The sex talks he’d had with his mom and Pops, when he was alive, had been so sterile and clinical. Talking to Tarik had been worthless. He had avoided the topic entirely.

If he just “looked” and didn’t touch, technically, he was still a virtuous man. Hanging out at the club tonight would be safe, if he checked his libido at the door. Knowing that Carlos would handle him right, he eagerly waited for the evening to approach.

Driving to the club, Carlos took advantage of the time alone to school Jonathan. He was going to make losing his virginity a project. If he had anything to do with it, Jonathan was going to college, a man.

“Man, there’s a freak I know who will do anything for you. A
real nympho type. For just one of your big smiles, she’ll suck your dick so good and hard, you won’t stop coming ’til it’s time to collect social security. I’ll introduce you to her at the club and you can go to the parking lot and she’ll…”

Jonathan was shocked. He only wanted to look at the women; doing something was out of the question, and in a parking lot? The thought of it made him want to run all the way back to his mama’s arms for safety.

In a horrified voice, he exploded, “Are you crazy? A parking lot? Thanks, but no thanks. I couldn’t. No! NO! I couldn’t do that thing with a nympho? Not one second…not ever.”

Carlos could see that Jonathan was upset and that his suggestion was a bit premature. He’d have to break homeboy in a little slower. “Hey, man…man, calm down…it’s okay…it was just a thought…you ain’t ready. I know that. I respect that…I just thought…maybe…while you were home for the summer… before you started college and shit…you might you know… experiment…not go all the way…just a taste…with a pro…you know?”

There was dead silence for the rest of the ride. Jonathan was upset by the offer, not because he wouldn’t consider it, but because there was a part of him that seriously wanted to “experiment.” Carlos had flipped his little perfect world of abstinence upside down. No one had ever challenged his decision to remain celibate quite as aggressively as Carlos. It made him face one big fact. He was indeed madly curious about screwing, fucking, licking, and everything in between.

C
lub Zeon was no ordinary place. Only the rich and famous could acquire the famous phallic-shaped key that allowed entry into the eighteenth-century renovated church. Owners wisely decided to maintain the Gothic exterior. For the interior they hired a top designer, and spared no expense to create an ultra-futuristic space that catered to the tastes and eccentricities of the world’s elite crowd.

This used to be a church
, thought Jonathan. He gasped when he first entered the club. It was hard for him to believe that babies were once baptized, couples married and blessed, in the place that now displayed nude couples of all sexual orientations in cages engaged in a variety of erotic activity.

Carlos left Jonathan alone to take care of business in the VIP section of the club’s lower level. Without his chaperone, Jonathan decided to explore. He drifted toward the main lounge. On a stage that seemed to be suspended in air, an Afro-Brazilian combo performed intoxicating rhythms. Jonathan’s blood bounced in rhythm to the music as he glared at the beautiful, scantily dressed women that surrounded him on the dance floor.

They moved their bodies in an enticing provocative manner and generated an enormous amount of sexual “heat.” Jonathan, the national vice president of Teens for Abstinence, was immediately
overwhelmed. Too young and too inexperienced to handle it all, he “escaped” from the dance floor, moved on to one of the smaller more intimate lounge areas, and decided to order a Coke.

Leaning against a bar that was actually a giant saltwater aquarium filled with exotic fish, Jonathan thought about Carlos’s offer of a “teaching session.” Thinking about it now, in a club full of desirable women, made him reconsider.

The mental image of luscious lips wrapping around the crown of his manhood, made pressure build between his legs. He whispered commands to himself, hoping the fullness rising beneath his pants didn’t expose his thoughts. “Down, boy, just relax. It ain’t real. It ain’t real at all.”

Just as he was getting things under control, a scantily clad goddess slowly slid by him, barely grazing his loins. At fivefoot-nine, she stared up at him, capturing his full attention. “Excuse me, sir. Can I pass by? It’s so crowded in here.”

He was completely hypnotized by her seductive beauty. His groin ignored all commands to relax and resumed its search for orgasmic release.

Almond-shaped eyes shaded by thick black eyelashes twinkled up at him. She was a natural beauty with just a hint of blush that accentuated dark-chocolate skin. The subtlest of gloss added shine to full mocha-colored lips. She had the kind of lips white actresses paid good money for. A short-cropped hairstyle revealed a long gracious neck that added a sense of regal beauty. A linear scar that draped the front of her neck was the only flaw on an otherwise perfect woman.

She repeated her request. “Can I pass by? I’m sorry, sir. Are you all right?”

And that voice! Whew! It was husky with honey sweet under-
tones. Jonathan heard its resonance vibrating long after she had spoken. He knew he’d never wash his ears or the pants she brushed her body against.

Under a trance, he heard himself clumsily reply, “I’m okay, I think.”

Reluctantly, he freed himself from her gaze and let her go by. She was indeed a knockout. She looked back at him and blew a kiss. He swore he felt it land on his face.

There was something a little different about this woman. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but it had something to do with the way her full double-D perky breasts seemed to smile at him through a sheer purple halter. Sweat built up across his brow. He turned back toward the bartender and ordered another coke filled to the brim with ice. He grabbed the plastic cup and rolled it across his forehead and neck, anxiously waiting for his body temperature to slide back down to normal.

The party was rocking hard and strong. Carlos was working the room as usual, reminding folks to check out Tarik’s concert. His eyes swept the club to see if he’d ignored anyone of importance. He discovered a woman sitting alone in a corner booth. Only her silhouette was visible, but it was enough information to let him know she definitely had the kind of shape he wanted to know better.

As her face came into full view, he almost gasped at her beauty. She looked like the statues of the Nubian queens in the lower Nile Valley. He’d seen them when the family visited Egypt five years ago. Gazing at this woman, he was glad Pops had insisted that they take the trip. It was nice to have such an ancient reference with this woman. Plus he had a ready opening line to greet her with.

“So you arrived just on time.”

“Come again?”

Her deep voice captivated him immediately. He was instantly smitten. Carlos grabbed her hand and planted a kiss.
Did her eyes sparkle or was that just the house lights,
he thought as he gazed into her golden-brown eyes.

“When we last met in Nubia, you were queen and I was Pharaoh. We promised to meet again in the after-life, and well, goddamn, here we are!”

“A genuine Egyptologist.” She lied through her teeth. “I’m really impressed.”

“No, I’m no specialist. I did take a trip to Egypt a few years ago, and you do bear a striking resemblance to the statues of the Nubian aristocracy.” Carlos was shocked at himself. He was actually using correct grammar with this girl. She had immediately put him in an “impress this chick with everything you got” mode. He knew she was a woman of intellect and character. Something he rarely, if ever, noticed in any of the other females he met.

He offered to buy her a drink, which she politely refused.
Damn
, he thought. He would have enjoyed a more relaxed version of this woman. But they spoke and had quite the conversation. He never noticed he was doing most of the talking. She was expertly interviewing him and letting him express all the things that most folks didn’t have the time or inclination to listen to. Carlos felt empowered with her. He felt powerful without feeling he had to dominate her. He wanted to know more about her and he realized that he didn’t even know her name.

“We’ve been talking, I mean, I guess I’ve been talking for over an hour and…please, what is your name?”

“It’s Nicola…Nicola James.” She looked at her diamond-studded
watch and quickly gathered her purse and shawl. “I’m way past my curfew. Look, call me sometime.” She pulled her business card out. Carlos looked it over.

“You’re an interior decorator?”

“That’s what the card says.”

“Hey, how old are you, Nicola, if you don’t mind me asking?”

She rose up and waited for Carlos to slide out the booth so she could exit.

“If you have to ask, my dear sweet Carlos, you can’t handle it.”

He looked at her purple halter and the way her tight curves filled the outfit. He knew then he could not rest ’till he made love to every square inch on her body. He confidently replied, “Don’t worry; I can handle the whole thing.”

“Really now? So then tell me why you need to know how many years I’ve been here?”

“It’s just that…” He stood up, never taking his eyes away from hers, and held her in his arms. “You have what all beautiful black women have…ageless beauty. You could be jail bait.”

Laughing, she gently freed herself from his embrace. Speechless, not knowing what to say next, he joined in and laughed with her. He did not care if he was the subject she found amusing. His only concern was that this woman of indeterminate age was getting to him like no other woman before had. He had to have her.

Carlos could sense he was losing his infamous cool. What the hell was going on with him? He’d only known her for an hour. He commanded his mind to chill out and slow down. He was thinking too stupid and too fast. That was not Carlos’s way. Not at all.

He offered her a ride home. She accepted. Guiding her through the crowd, it finally dawned on him that he had Jonathan with him.

“Nicola, my brother is with me. Could you wait here in the lounge while I get him?”

She smiled at him and said, “No problem.”

He walked back into the main section of the club and found Jonathan sitting at the bar, staring at a glass of Coke. So eager to return to Nicola, Carlos didn’t recognize the despondent look on his face.

“I met a bomb babe. I’m leaving to take her home up in Harlem. I’ll drop you off on my way to her crib.” Jonathan, still thinking about his mystery woman, nodded absentmindedly and followed Carlos as he searched for his girl.

“Man, I left Nicola right here in the lounge. Where the hell did she—” A tap on his shoulder made both young men turn around and greet Nicola at the same time.

Jonathan yelled out, “It’s you!”

Shocked, Carlos exclaimed, “You know her?”

Jonathan started sweating again. She can’t be the girl Carlos was planning to “knock boots with,” as he called it. This was the siren he had met. She was his find. Jonathan realized that he was thinking crazy.

This girl Carlos called Nicola was not his at all. She had only brushed up against him for a split second and blew him an apparently insignificant kiss. He looked into her eyes frantically searching for some sign of recognition. Nicola did not respond with anything other than her trademark smile that made all men who met her melt like candle wax in a blazing inferno.

“No, I just thought she was someone else.”

Carlos ignored Jonathan’s strange behavior. He gently pushed them both outside the club where a uniformed valet waited with Carlos’s top-of-the-line, black Jaguar sports car.

“Folks, let’s get moving. I know Nicola wants to get home some time this century.”

Jonathan smiled at Carlos’s time reference, because he knew the short ride home would indeed feel like a hundred years long. He was miserable from thinking that Carlos was going to be with Nicola. Sitting in the backseat, watching Nicola from behind, left him aching inside.

He tried to conjure up images of the girls in his church group back in Boston. That didn’t help. They were too stiff, usually too white, and too skinny to generate any real heat. All he could see was beautiful Nicola. He gave up trying to block her out and joined in the conversation. He discovered that she was an intelligent, knowledgeable person.

She was also sophisticated, well-traveled, and even had a keen sense of humor. She told tales that had both he and Carlos laughing several times during the ride. He was disappointed when Carlos pulled up in front of the house. When he reluctantly waved good-bye to both of them, Nicola blew a kiss and winked. He shuddered. The most insignificant of gestures confirmed that she had indeed remembered their brief encounter.

That night Jonathan’s wet dream had a new star: Nicola. She was the vixen in a dream that caused his hot rod to explode with sticky wet passion. Surrounded by a packed audience, in the center ring of Madison Square Garden, Nicola lay totally nude on top of a giant-sized, round, red satin-covered bed.