~~~~~~~~~~
Oh, never your worry about Ian. Despite his looking like rockstar Prince in a regular world, he was still quite the rockstar and hit with the ladies in the city. It wouldn’t be ’til later in life that it was official to me that I was a officially apart of a world I never dreamed of-where too, I learned that Ian knew all the girls.
I had enrolled in hair and nail school and had bonded well with the ladies there, like glue. Once 
while on our lunch break, we were all sitting upstairs resting our pretty-all dressed in our pretty pencil skirts, white tights, white uniform smocks and white sneakers. In, walks Ian-across the desk in the next room over beyond our glass-with some girl in tow-up there to get her hair done. I
did what I habitually had done: Ducked. Shoulders up. Low and behold, a couple of other girls did too, then a couple others. It was like a
chain reaction. I began to giggle and other giggles followed. I broke the ice: “So y’all know him?” I said, coyly. One girl burst into laughter and said “YOU know him?”
I gave the ‘maybe,’ ‘maybe not’ shrug and downward lip fold. Every other girl got to getting choked up and throwing it out there that either they, or someone they knew had dated him. Ian was quite popular.
Sort of like a scene right of the movie “Life,” and right, smack dead in the middle of this surreal life moment of all this stutter clutter; one of the prettier girls broke it all up and shut us all up: “Hell, I fucked him.
I just needed to know if he was a freak like Prince, too. Shit I aint shamed! A bitch can fulfill her Appollonia fantasies, too!”
We all fell out laughing. It was the most hilarious day, ever.
Chapter Seven
Fast forward and moving on with my life without Pucker meant spending most of my time over at my mom’s house rather than at that-now energetically tainted-apartment of mine.
Moving on with my life, and up in the world for me meant: my good bank job, a roomier apartment with better amenities and my hooptie. My friends and I nicknamed her “Smoky” because she had a massive oil leak and would leave a long dust trail all over the city. If you needed to find me out and on the road, all you had to do was follow your nose; all smoke trails most probably would have you pull right up to my bumper baby.
It would be funny trying to drive that death-trap of mine-while acting as if that smoke (on the inside as well) was not bothering me one bit. As far as I was concerned, it was y’all who had to deal with it out there, because inside, all was well. Should you dare pull up on me to make mention there was smoke on the inside; I would probably tell you to clean your lenses, your nose and lower my voice to tell you to mind your business.
My friend Mars didn’t seem to have a problem with it though. He was dedicated to helping me complete my mission of independence and help me defeat my fear of driving on expressways and highways. Mars wanted to make sure I could make turns the correct way, back in the correct way, parallel-park on the right side and the left side as well, he wanted to make sure I knew how to maneuver myself out of a tight spot or get pull my little hooptie in to one-should I need to. Eventually, I bought another car that was as stick shift and Posh’s cousin would teach me how to drive it.
But for now though-merely learning the rules, don’ts and do’s of basic driving, I guess after so much time of riding shotgun in that death-trap, Mars wanted the smoke to clear. It was time to get it poppin.’
With no forewarning of what he was about to do, as I drove, he instructed and pointed: “Turn to the left. Now turn to the right. Drive down this hill about a half-a-mile, now turn to the right again.” And just like that!…I ended up merging onto the ramp of an expressway and it was on and cracking from there! There was no turning back.
My eyes got big as I held on to that wheel at ten and two, with Mars puffing his cigarette as the smoke blended in with Smoky’s. He sat back calm and cool-just like the person he was.
You couldn’t tell me nothing after that.
After I dropped Mars off to his house, I drove home to tell Mitch all about my new adventure—less the instructor.
You see, Mitch was always one of my biggest “fans” since the day we met-which was sometime around the time I was pissed at Pucker for leaving me at the back of that building. Even since then, Mitch remained a friend to me-and into the later years around the time Ian would run me and Ciara around. I’d called him my biggest fan because he adored me in the sweetest little way and I never could get over the fact that I was a mere two years older than he was. So when we would kick it, I would talk to him like a mere young boy trying to mack.
By face, and through other people, Mitch and I only knew each other from his knowing I attended the artsy school when he attended the competing school in our city that was known for academic excellence vs. our school’s reputation for creative excellence.
Fast forward. Mitch was this unusually fine ass guy that lived in near my mom’s house. He called himself having a crush on me and would try to be oh-so charming. Despite how fine he was and his charm, that being a mere two years younger than me and the fact that I was mentally and emotionally in no position to squeeze him into my rollercoaster of a life with Pucker, I didn’t think much of him personally-outside of the fact that he sure as hell was one good-looking guy.
I mean…Mitch was so fine that over the years, he was known by the description of how he looked before his name could be recalled. It was just like that with him. He seemed like this good-looking drifter who everyone seemed to know by face. It was weird.
He wasn’t a drifter though. He was just a gorgeous guy who lived at home with his mom still-during a time when, at our seventeen to nineteen year old ages, “life” meant: getting your own apartment, your own car, having a job and whatever else smelled like teen spirit looked like independence.
In our town, it was common for suburb kids to still live with their parents, but their thing is: Their parents bought them nice cars to drive. But in the inner city, even from seventeen to nineteen, if you lived at home and/or didn’t have a car, and/or didn’t have a good job; it kind of made you look like you weren’t taking care of your business-probably about as much as the equivalent of “failure” and “not taking care of business” was like a picture of how my situation met a fork in the road and pivoted: You go to a special creative school for 12 years to train to go on to a career to exhibit what you know and learned. You make money from it and that becomes your “living.”
Well, as unlucky as I was in that regard, lucky for me-I had a snapshot view into both worlds: That one-that I missed out on, and this one-that I, too, was now living. And in this one, the equivalent of “failure” and “not taking care of business” was to not have a job, not have a car, and not have your own apartment—and Mitch lived with his mom in the inner city. So because of that-and not having his own car just yet-he seemed like a drifter because he was always on foot.
He didn’t even walk like he had an apartment, much less owned a car, but his body made up for it. He was so in shape that it was a vehicle in and of itself. So he had that going for him along with how super gorgeous he was-but that was about it. I couldn’t do nothing with him but appreciate admiring his beauty—but eventually he wore me down.
I would see Mitch in passing so much so that it seemed like he would purposely put himself to be where I was at. And when he would look at me, he looked like one of those cartoon characters whose eyes would get these dart board red and white circles whenever something appealing would be in front of them. For him, that would be me. And he was shooting for me. I could see it all in his eyes. I could literally see his pupils dilate. It was pretty funny.
For a while, I would just stand outside and have small-talk with him and let him flash that Colgate smile of his, all the while he’d be standing there trying to be charming and impressive.
It took a while, because he didn’t impress me until about a year later around the time my mother had moved over to an area that was close to the church he attended with his parents and two younger brothers. Though, at the time, I had my own tainted apartment, my mom always kept an extra bedroom on deck just in case I ever fell on hard times and I needed to come back home. And since she lived so close to where I lived, it was not uncommon for me not to spend nights there, too. For Mitch, this must’ve must have been the God’s conspiring to bring me to him after all because in order for him to keep being a permanent fixture on the side of town my mom had moved from, considering the distance from where he lived with his mom, he had to have a reason or put in effort to even be over that way.
Fast forward.
Considering the distance from his church and where he lived with his mom, my mom’s new house-that sat right, smack dead across from their church-was a dream come true for Mitch. Not only was he a seven-minute walk from where he lived with his mom, every Sunday and Wednesday, he was only a literal hop, skip and a jump across from my mom’s house. And that was the next best thing for heaven for him.
Welp, Mitch hit the bulls-eye one evening after one-time too many of our conversations ended up with him straddled across the floor with me eating off every part of his concession stand of a body from head to toe like he was some delicacy.
This particular night that was a while after I had finally made up my mind to leave Pucker after that weird stunt he pulled at my apartment that night. For weeks, I had been masturbating until I’d be out of my mind and sore sometimes. Low key, Mitch happened to show up for small-talk and googly-eyes at just the right time. I was so horny that I used him up that night while at my mom’s house. He thought his whole years dream had finally come true. I treated him from head to toe, front to back as if I was in love with him. I did not care about what message it was getting to his head or heart-in that moment, I just needed his body there for that moment and he was available, willing and had been wishing-for long enough time.
He was so aroused and excited that it was sooooo easy having my way with him. All this time, I didn’t even realize I was that attracted to him until smack dead in this moment. I licked and bit and sucked all over his body so well that he was too weak and willing to not do whatever I need him to that night. I had always had that thing for opening my legs wide open-it would send sensations through my body to be that vulnerable in front of whomever’s face. This time, it was Mitch’s. He had seen so much pussy that night that I could tell that even as fine as he was, and no matter how much pussy was thrown his way, he had never seen that much pussy in all his life.
By the time I got done with pleasuring his body, he was like a ragdoll. I dragged his ass to the steps and opened my legs while he sat at the one below me and hungrily sucked my pussy every which way I instructed and cried out for him to:
“Pull it hard. Suck it hard for me,” I whispered desperately.
He pulled slowly, deeply, and intensely-with full intention and attention-sucking me like he was having a lollipop that tasted so good that he did not want to get to the end of and off of.
It was awesome. I was shaking like a maniac.
He tried even harder to prove himself worthy of this moment.
He began to bury his face into my crouch like some hungry homeless man that hadn’t had a good meal in months. His tongue was whipping my clit with so much force and speed as if in his mind, he was fighting my clit. It was so sexually stressful. I just wanted my pussy sucked to death. Not licked: “Just pull on it! And don’t let it go! Do that shit with it stuck in your mouth! Don’t let it go! I begged.
He worked his hardest to meet my demands. He knew that I wasn’t playing around.
You see, I had a thing for watching my pussy swell. And I loved for my lover to watch their work. That turned me on-despite the fact that I should have learned my lesson from such a suck given my secret big scare I had with Nick. That dude sucked my pussy so good and so right one day that what could have been the fuck that I fought hard not to be, was ultimately me fucking his face instead-with him below me gripping and smacking my ass-hanging onto my clit for dear life as if each time he smacked my ass, my clit was jingling for him. It was wild. I gripped the headboard and came on his face way too many times to count. By the time I got home that night and was preparing to bathe, I disrobed, and peed. As I was about to wipe, my clit had swollen so badly and was sitting way outside of my vagina.
When I saw it, I screamed to the top of my lungs and called Kris and to tell her what
happened and what was happening as result. She laughed so hard but it wasn’t funny to me. I was too busy trying to figure out how I was going to go to the emergency room and spread my legs in front of a room full of doctors that I was sure too, would be laughing at me like clear out of some hospital-based night time television drama. That night with Nick was a pretty traumatic experience for me but Kris and I decided it’d be best for me sleep it off-legs open and wake to see what the next morning would bring. When morning came, I woke up and sat up at the same time-to look down at myself-hoping things had gone back to normal. Clit did.
So in this moment of Mitch being a madman, I was already prepared for what could happen and what I would need to in the event of. I had such a thing for being helplessly sucked and pulled that I wouldn’t take care. I would just give up all my pussy to my lover’s mouth –eager for it to swell up like a blossoming flower so that together we could watch it swell.
I had Mitch back off of me so that I could see his work. He sat beneath me as I sat up and spread myself open so that he could appreciate seeing me swollen. It turned him on too. He was like “whoa.” He wanted it back in his mouth. This time, he kept grabbing for my entire pussy with his mouth-doing his damnedest to devour the whole thing. I screamed loudly-climaxing like this was the last one I had in me. It felt like bolts of lightning hit my fingertips and toes as they curled, and my clit swell and throbbed from my pelvis throughout my whole crouch. I wanted more-as much as I could take. “Just snatch it!” I yelled out to him-desperately. To hell with what happened with Nick. Clits are magic. That bitch’ll go back down by morning. I knew this.
It was fantastic.
I was ready to finish him off and treat him well for a job well done. So I sat down a step and allowed him to stand over me while I sucked him with pulls of just-right precision; like I was sucking his heart through his dick. He gasped helplessly and positioned himself to hold my head and play in my hair. Instead, I reached to help him assist in holding his hands in mine instead.
I started whipping my tongue ‘round and ‘round his shaft; locking the entire head of his dick in my mouth. He instantly turned bitch on me just as much as he was turned on. I french-kissed and sucked the shaft of his dick from bottom to top and devoured and circled his tip while swiftly whipping my tongue around it some more-repeatedly, routinely; building him up for the excitement of my devouring his entire dick down my throat so I could surprise and hear him yell.
I could tell he had never been treated with that much sexual respect. He nearly wanted to cry as he stood there gripping the banisters bouncing the words: “Oh-no-no-no-no-no-no-oh-gosh-yes-yes,” sounding like he was in big trouble after I devoured that pretty motherfucker.
After listening to him shake, rattle and yell enough, I stopped, stood up and grabbed him by his locks of gorgeous curls. I kissed him passionately and whispered for him to follow me into the living room. From behind me, he held me and eagerly excitedly. I held his hands while he wrapped them around my waist-stumbling into the living room. I rolled my eyes in my head and twisted my lips to the side. Little did he know, I could do without some dick after a good suck-off. For me; that was usually for the pleasure of the man I loved. So, I would just be all about giving him the pussy. As much as I did really ‘like’ him, I sure as hell didn’t have feelings for him like that, to suck him to finish and I knew he wanted some pussy because he kept grabbing for it. And I was so swollen and so wet and about to burst from inside out-something else had to be done with it. And up through this very moment in time, he earned it.
So I lay him back down and went straight for where I knew he wanted more. He was so hard and so ready. I climbed atop him and Kegel’ed him tightly from the tip of his dick to the very end of it-slow and steady pulls for him. Like x-ray vision, I could practically see in my mind what was his dick was feeling-his face showed everything. I could tell he had never had it like that before.
He was laying there looking too comfortable, too relaxed, too much like he was getting the pleasure from a harem of beautiful bitches with sunshine for pussy, and I did not want me to end my ride. I made him sit up a little bit as I leaned back on my hands-to let him watch himself go in and out. That turned me on. His excitement was getting me so high. He would gasp and trying to catch up to his breath like he was jumping on hot coals. He was earning this moment even more. He was lit like he was in Candyland. He didn’t know what to do with himself. And neither did I, shortly thereafter. After a short time of letting him enjoy the show I pushed him back to the corner and fell back to finish him off harder, faster-to the sounds of his screams until he had no more and was out of breath, mind and energy.
He earned it. And he was worthy of that moment-in that moment, for this moment.
~~~~~~~
Mitch was so sweet to me and I let him hang around longer than I intended to, not to mention-he very easy on the eyes. He turned that whole night into us being boyfriend-girlfriend like, and if I was at my mom’s and wasn’t already outside on the porch after his church let out; was coming around and ringing my mom’s doorbell asking for me-without even calling.
My mom adored Mitch and I liked Mitch too. The only thing in his way at this time was my friendship with Remedy.
Rem and I weren’t sleeping together though. Over the years, we both worked together at a couple different marketing and telemarketing spots in the city. He was a cool guy and we had always been close. Ever since knowing Rem, we both could tell that we liked each other but neither of us said a word about it. Rem would always talk to me with “study” in his eyes versus visible pupils. I couldn’t quite read Rem.
Although he was only about three years older than me, Rem’s way with me was always like this older man who cared for a younger girl-but treated her like a cross between a woman and a girl. Because actually, the core of Rem was very mature. He knew that I was responsible, and probably a bit naïve, but he could certainly tell I wasn’t as mature as he was.
It was weird with Rem. He treated me like a “caution” sign but with a stop sign to the left and the go sign to the right. That’s how the energy between us was and had always been. Before my mom moved over to the house across the street from the church, Rem would stop by and “check up on me”-see how I was doing…what I was up to-were his reasons. He was a: “I’m feeling you and feeling you out” vibe but didn’t push up too hard on me. Eventually, Rem got himself a place that was just a street over from my mom’s house across the street from the church.
I never knew what it was about all these Aquarius men-why they loved me so damned much: Pucker, Mitch and Rem. But it was something about Rem that was different than Pucker and different Mitch. I respected him to the utmost.
It wasn’t that he was a couple years older than me, it was that he was very masculine and very in control of himself.
He was very principled.
He was also very disciplined at the mind and body.
Conversation: Superb.
He knew his self-worth and had boundaries.
Over the years, no matter who I was actually with or just hanging out with; Rem was always that tightly woven fabric in between Ian, Pucker, and Mitch.
My connection with Rem was on a whole other level-because I respected him as a man-whole heartedly. I felt completely protected and cared for by him as a friend, like a big brother and like a man (all in one).
He loved to use the excuse to come see me by calling it “checking up” on me.
Sometimes, he would go out on a limb and call it “stopping by to check on my heart” and he would push his index finger to my chest It was cute.
He knew me very well and knew that my heart had never really “landed” (safely) with anyone and that I was a bit fickle. He observed me and knew that all too well. And because of that, no matter how much I knew he liked me, he was not about to let me into his world unless he could have me his way (I observed that much about him too).
Unlike anybody, whenever Rem would come around, my whole world would slow down. Everything was at a normal pace of peace-in every way with Rem-like no one else, ever.
Our relationship was so righteous-from day one of our friendship.
I loved that about him and he loved that about me.
I was a bit bossy.
But was a boss.
I was bit secretive.
Yet, we shared many secrets, plans, dreams and things about life and how to get it out here.
My personal however, rule was to never tell a man everything. Matter of fact: nothing. My don’t-ask-won’t-tell policy was tighter than Fort Knox.
Yet, aside from the things about my life I didn’t feel he needed to know, we had absolutely no secrets between us. With him, given my situation and pivots in life, there were like other bright sides of my life that I didn’t entertain the thought of being so, until Rem.
I liked to talk. He loved to listen.
He liked to talk. I loved to listen
When I would cry, he would hold me.
When I thought I had all the final answers; he showed me other ways.
He was very fond of me and would always hold me close to him like I was a kid, when he would talk to me.
Other times when he would talk to me, he would be pointing his finger at my chest as if he was trying to touch my heart with it. I would always remember how when he would come by and point at my chest and say “I’m checking on my heart.”
I secretly loved him-so righteously, though. Rem was SUCH an oasis to me, and for me. A total remedy for that ailed and failed me.
I knew my heart was safe from harm and from any drama and confusion just about as much as I knew he wasn’t about having any brought to his life as well. With that being the case, I knew that to truly deal with Remedy, I would have to get my mind right, and my head right, my life right, and then-much later-get my body ready.
There was no other way for us to go with this thing, but up. Even still, knowing my fickle ways, he could not resist my fun, my funny, our sweet time together and my charm.
Idealistic and structured, Rem had
FROM THE NOT YET PUBLISHED PREQUEL / BOOK 2 “Angie Situation” trilogy
BOOK 1- PUBLISHED:
TABLE of CONTENTS
PREFACE 5
- The Roots of Picked Fruit 17
- The Precocious Ripening 33
- Ripe & Ready. Gangs, Bangs & Pangs 39
- The Queen Bee in Me 63
- Another Level. Blossoming. Beautiful. 80
- TGGF, Male Model & Me 101
- TGGF & Me 112
- Divorcing Dad 124
- You Know Who 130
- First Flings First 139
- In the Lion’s Den 170
- Cold Shoulders and Frozen Dancing Feet 195
- Pills & Frills 204
- You Know What: I Told You So 209
- Dichotomies & Dazes 228
- Situations, Decisions & Transitions 241
- Up, Out & Away 244
MEET the AUTHOR Q & A 254
READING GROUP GUIDE 257
SNEAK PEEK into book2 (“Angie Situation NAIVETE’” )’s CHAPTER ONE 260
OTHER BOOKS BY ANGELA SHERICE 269
ABOUT the AUTHOR 270
Spitfire .
Media Maestro .
Writing Rhinoceros .
