Naughty Or Nice Part 11

"You're leaving?"

"The refrigerator light is off and the game is over."

"Here's my card. Call me."

"n.i.g.g.a, please." I shook my head. "I'll call you when Dr. Laura becomes grand marshal at the Hollywood Gay Parade."

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Tommie.

After dinner, one long kiss leads us down the hallway to my bedroom.

I blow out the candles. I turn my back to Blue before I take off my skirt and blouse. I fold them. Place them on the floor. Slip underneath the covers before he can see my nakedness.

Bonnie Raitt sings the reflective and lingering song about "all at once."

Blue follows my lead, undresses in the dark.

He says, "You blew out the candles."

"I like it dark."

"Mind if I crack the shade and let some moonlight in?"

"I'd rather not."

Blue gets underneath the covers, puts his warm skin next to mine.

We kiss.

I whisper, "Blue?"

"Yeah."

"I'm on the pill. Helps with my cramps. So if you don't wanna use a condom . . ."

"You have any?"

"Got a couple from my sister."

"I'd be more comfortable with one on."

Blue runs his hand over my body, then I open the nightstand and hand him a condom.

He touches my back, feathers his fingers down to my b.u.t.t.

He whispers, "You're so soft. Beautiful. Awesome shape."

"I could stand to do a few squats."

"Watching you walk is like watching a gentle breeze. Your voice . . . love it."

He traces his fingers down my back, then up, like he's riding the curve of my b.u.t.t.

He whispers, "You still have your bra and panties on."

Damp palms refuse to dry. "Didn't want to steal all of your fun."

He unhooks my bra with one hand. I s.h.i.+ft, jump a little.

I say, "Wow. You're . . . you're good at that."

"Luck of the draw."

"That wasn't luck."

My bra is made of a rich material. Silky with nice support, like Frankie and Livvy wear. I take it from his hands, fold it, put it under my pillow. He kisses me again, touches my b.r.e.a.s.t.s, and his hands wander down to my panties. He starts pulling them down. I wiggle out of them.

He asks, "You okay?"

"Yeah."

"Open your eyes."

I do.

He says, "You have a 'hurry up' look on your face."

My mouth feels dry. "Sorry."

"Looks like you're in the doctor's office about to get vaccinated."

Blue kisses my b.r.e.a.s.t.s. Nipples rise. He eases his kisses down my stomach to the ring in my belly b.u.t.ton, goes lower, but I gently pull him away from his journey south, pull him toward me, kiss him, and try to hide my being uncomfortable.

I say, "Put the condom on."

"Okay."

I lie back, wait. Blue crawls on top of me, kisses me again.

My legs open.

I close my eyes and feel him.

He says, "Something's not working."

I pant. "Hurts a little."

"Relax and let me-"

"I'm trying. That's it right . . . Ouch."

"What?"

"That's not it."

A moment later, Blue asks, "Why are your eyes scrunched like that?"

"I'm concentrating."

"You're tense. We can't do much with your legs that tight."

"Blue . . . I'm not ready for this."

"Why did you go through all of this if-?"

"I didn't mean to upset you."

"I'm not upset. I'm just saying."

"Wait . . . don't get up."

"What do you want me to do?"

"Why don't you go ahead and please yourself?"

"Jack off?"

"No, I mean . . . just don't wait for me. Get it over with."

His voice owns frustration and confusion. "Get it over with?"

"I mean, you know, go ahead and, you know."

"It doesn't work like that, Tommie."

I pause. "I'm sorry."

Silence magnifies the awkwardness.

"Blue . . . I'm trying to relax."

"Why won't you let me see you naked?"

"I'm sensitive about that."

"It's just me and you."

"I know." My voice is a deep whisper. "I'm not comfortable with my body right now."

"Don't sweat it."

"You slipped out."

"Don't think I was really in."

"I felt something."

"The tip."

"I felt it."

"Your thighs are tight. Look, you want to put it back in?"

"You mean touch it?"

"Yeah, touch it. Guide it home."

"You do it."

"Never mind."

He rolls to the other side of the bed. The sound of him pulling latex off his flesh rings like the period at the end of a sentence.

My brain wants to go liquid. The picture I have in my mind, the way I imagine this will be, how everything works like clockwork, from dinner to here, fades like warmth against ice.

I sit up, leg bouncing, running my fingers through my hair. "Blue, it's not you. I really wanted this with you."

His silence disturbs me even more.

My voice remains uneven. "I'm not real good at this to begin with. Haven't done this that much to start with. Only been with two guys . . . and it's been . . . been years . . ."