I could feel the talks he was having with himself:
“Is this going to make her act right and follow the plan?”
“Am I doing this out of impatience and simply being ‘a man’?”
He couldn’t hold back anymore.
We were forehead to forehead, nose to nose, lip to lip. I arched my back, opened my legs so more and whispered to answer those inner questions I know were sitting at the tip of his dick and front of his mind. “Remy. No regrets. I promise. No regrets. I promise you, Remy “ I cried.
Right that very second, before he could go for it and even THINK, the phone rang, I jumped. With my lips pressed against his-I could feel him bite his. With a soft grunt of agitation he grabbed my right hand with his left hand and cuffed me underneath to bring to me-some of the greatest piece of steel I, myself, in all this time had never even so much as touched. With Rem, since the very beginning of this, I merely trusted the process of being lead into love like clear out of every lyric of an Anita Baker song and he delivered.
I yelled and gasped with the in disbelief that we were finally into this moment.
This man hit me with the kind of good, deep, grown man strokes that I never even entertained was possible. Each time he hit me was like sparks going through me like the very sparks between us in that moment. “Everything I dreamed…everything I dreamed it would be. Everything! I fuck-ing-LOVE youuuu!” he cried out.
Still, the fireworks between our beating hearts, heated bodies, connected minds and transcendent souls could not compete with the constant ringing of that phone that would start again after the last ringing session would die down.
“Please…get the phone…please. Just answer,” I begged him.
I interrupted his grove.
We needed this moment. WE earned this moment. We worked for this moment.
I have been on top of this man-fully clothed-at bare minimum, in a bra and jeans: straddling him. Singing to him while riding, rocking and rolling this man-my biggest fan-while, with the back of finger’s hand and as if the skin of each digit was feeling and sipping the taste of every part he caressed-straight through his phalanges to Angie; he adored and traced every curved of my face, neck, shoulders, arms, waist, hips and thighs with LOVE 
in his eyes-fighting lust and impulsiveness-as if it was some personal mental and physical game of Extreme Self Control Sports that he had to win or else.
With that phone ringing and this man atop me now-in pure bliss-giving me the best that he’s got; she had NO idea that in the beginning, I could not read his eyes through to point he was ready to let me in and from there, the many days and nights this man’s eyes would sparkle like diamonds to the point where-like a game we’d play-I would habitual say: “You think you love me, don’t you?” And he would respond: “I do…” I longed to actually hear those actual three words fall from his mouth with the sparkle of that same look in his eyes, and tonight: Before he lay me down and while he lay me down-this was that night.
While fireworks and sparks were flying on our end of the world, it was like somebody warning-slapped this girl like Mister slapped Celie for his shaving. The theme music on her end surely, was that of Shug running to disrupt-after the kids passing by blabbed what was going down at that very moment.
This heffa was timely. Girl interrupted.
I went from receiving these sparks he was putting to and through me to a certain jump and movement he could clearly feel was different as, he from the moment he gripped me around my waist and took control of arching my body to receive him-he never let me go. He grinded into me with such good, intentional, deep strokes that he held and pinned me in such a way to receive all that good dick that I dare so much as move. So he knew when I jumped-something disconnected. For me, it was that incessantly ringing phone-he knew it.
He held onto my hand and lay his face into my neck. I could hear the agony of him biting his lip. He took a deep breath and into my ear-whispered all the right, regretful and apologetic things as that phone kept ringing.
With the force of a magnetic, resistant pull, he began passionately biting into my neck from right to the left side-on route to the side where that phone ominously sat.
He reached over, picked up and replaced the word “hello” with one question of his only concern with anything having to do with having his groove disturbed right now: “Is something wrong with Madison?”
“No,” she replied.
Like a man fighting hard to hold his composure-using his five, closed hand fingers as a warning sign, Rem advised; “Then please…please…not right now. Quit calling back to back like that. You just don’t understand right now. Please quit calling right now. Please!” he pleaded with her.
“I will call you later! And yes, Angie is here,” he pushed out-so as to put a stop to her incessant calling. He pushed the button and flipped the phone over to the sound of a fast-busy that was sure to block any further interruptions.
Girl, interrupted.
In that moment, unexpectedly, I shed a different kind of tear. The tears I shed this time, was because for the first time, of all our time; I wanted him with no interruptions of a different kind.
He knew it.
He then held me so close like he didn’t want to let me go. And he did not. He held my tiny face in his big hands and gently kissed, apologized, and said I love you-in steps-from my forehead, to my right teary eye, to my left teary eye to my nose, my wet cheeks, my chin and caressed, licked, bit,
sucked and on my whole, entire body from head to toe. I couldn’t believe him.
He didn’t just push the phone over and then selfishly shove his dick back inside of me, no. He
apologized, then showed it, then took the time to start over-and like a diamond: ‘appreciate’ me.
Like “take two!”
He then assumed the same position: Locked my back in, gripped my waist, arched my back to bring my lower body for him to take full control of, and with the twice the intention and precision-fucked me all over again-from the top to bottom: physically, literally, momentously.
I was mouth open, brows dipped the entire time: In shock.
I couldn’t understand it. This man was like magic. He had bless-sed, well-preserved, piece of machinery that each thrust, I would shed a tear as reinforcement that each dig-dug with precision was like he was making his mark straight to my heart-stroking just like the way he loved me-as if he had a lot to prove. I just didn’t understand it.
It was incredible. That fuck was righteous-nothing like I ever felt in my life.
His fucked matched with how he knew me: Well.
It was as if he had been in me and with me before, yet, he never had. My body was so relaxed that I think I cried through the whole fuck, and he comforted me by talking me through it in spurts.
It was amazing. I was stunned. I was frozen. And it’s wanted: To hold me stiff to melt me.
After we made love, we showered together.
I still did not have to do anything. He washed my body for me and let me watch him wash his.
When we got out of the shower, still, I did not have to do a thing.
He laid me down and applied lotion all over my body like he was caring for a baby.
Into the night, we lay there and cuddled while watching movies and talking.
He treated this night like consummating a marriage, where he was the bride giving of himself, yet I felt like the virgin. I could tell that he wanted me to make some major decisions that night. That fuck told me that he didn’t put in work like that to just go to waste.
That gift of a dick had strings attached:
“What’s really up with you and that fool?” Well, he came into my life at a strange time and…you popped up in a way like you never had back when you would stop by and ‘check on your heart.’” I laughed-using both my index and middle fingers to emulate quoting him.
We lay there and laughed.
I then looked up at his sparkling eyes again: “Look at you. You think you love me, don’t you?”
“I do…I do love you. I mu’fuckin’ love you. No. I LOVE you,” he emphasized and expressed in every way.
I laughed. “Ok continue,” he said.
“So…yes, of course we had sex-once, literally: once. We had been knowing each other for a couple years and when my mom moved across from his church, that’s kind of around the time we did. But, before that, we were cool around the same time you would stop by-before my mom even moved over that way. Eventually, he was staying between his mom’s house and mine-just like you would be at your baby’s mom’s house and your own place. But it was like…when you stepped it up with me somehow, Mitch got shuffled to the back. I didn’t mean to-because he really does…you know…thinks he loves me…you know…cares about me” I separated.
“…So with you in the picture and my feeling something so different and so strong with you, it drew a weird wedge between me and Mitch,” I explained.
“…And truth be told Rem, I waited on you. For eight whole months, I prepared for this moment with you: spiritually, mentally, emotionally, “gynocologically” we laughed.
“I felt cleansed and renewed again,” I said.
“You are so beautiful. And so perfect-in every way,” he kissed me and said.
“Well, my situation is kind of like that too, except, I was clear in that my baby’s mother knows that the two of us happened to had been ‘kicking it’” he gestured with his two index and middle fingers.
“And without being in an actual relationship, she got pregnant. She knows I have, and always will do right by my child but, I stopped sleeping with her almost a whole year because I got my shit together and didn’t want to keep sending signals her way that should have stopped a long time ago,” he explained.
“Trying to hold out-feel you out, I was falling in love with you-everyday, free and clear. It’s just sad that it hurts my baby’s mother but…what can I do? With our excellent co-parenting situation, I really don’t think she would be as hurt if at least she had somebody or did not know that I do have somebody. And she knows that I love you…all those factors hurt,” he explained.
“I decided I would never sleep with a woman again-not that ‘I wouldn’t want to have my baby’ because she is a good girl-but I decided that I wouldn’t sleep with a woman I wouldn’t want to be with if she had my baby. Never again, you know?” he said.
“Interesting, we kind of have the same situation in that regard too,” I said.
“How so?” he asked.
“Well, Lucky’s dad is what I call a baby-deady. With the exception of the fairytale connection we had and lived that you didn’t share with your baby’s mom, we had a full on relationship-centered around me being fully acclimated into his family, holidays, birthdays-you name it. We weren’t just “kicking it.” We lost our virginities together, “high school popular couple,” prom-all that. I can’t say that two young kids “planned” having a kid but he ‘wanted’ kids to complete “our family” yet, when that became a reality, the checked out-like the fairytale was ruined. Strange thing though, it’s not that he didn’t want ‘us’-me and him-but he didn’t want “the kid,” our beautiful, adorable child. So much so that he didn’t even want to connect with our child. It was weird as fuck,” I explained.
Rem sat up over me-higher like a dog off its hinds legs.
“What?! Angie you never told me that! What? I said I learn something new about you every day…I do. I love you-even more…And I would never do that to you. I want every part, and all of you,” he whispered.
“Yeah…But I don’t think I would ever chance making a baby with a guy ever in life again.
“May I ask you a tough question?” he asked, softly.
He kissed me.
“Even me? Do you feel that way if you were to get pregnant with my…I mean…our child?” he asked, hope-fully?”
“Let’s not ponder hypotheticals right now…please, Rem?”
“Angie, I…” he pointed to himself, “love you…”
“I’m not some thimbletoed ass high school boy in love with his first piece of pussy and don’t know how to handle life, my responsibilities and reality,” he asserted.
“I know Rem. I know,” I looked up at him and replied.
“Ok. Let’s talk about the realities…and the right now. I’m not trying to pressure you, but time waits for no man-you know. I mean, I’ve been busy out here, getting my plans into action and I have you in mind to share them with me,” he explained.
He positioned himself exact and matter-of-factly; pointing at my temple, my crouch-and then poked into my chest as if he was digging at my heart:
“Part of me feels like, yeah, I’m getting your time, I know I got your mind, and now I have your body-but I want your heart Angie. I want some total act-right Angie. I do. I need that from you,” he pleaded-looking me in the eyes.
I sulked and cuddled under his arm like it was him that I was hiding from. And I was. I did not know how to reply.
That night, it was almost as if our roles were reversed. He was that girl in love, giving it-under the guise and hopes of a love that, from this point on-was happily ever after.
I was that guy who loved her, but wanted the option of having her forever after all, however, preferring to take all: one day at a time; shying away from her countless conversations about solidifying what they had.
You see, the solid and unique thing about Rem, unlike any man that I had ever known, was that his role as a man (in and of itself) really was “switched.”
Unlike the average man-who lead by his penis-Rem (like the average woman) considered his lovin’ and his dick-a gift and prized possession.
Not because of ego and narcissism, but because he was principled and structured (yet-still sexy, fun and not uptight). He was just serious about life.
What I learned up to and throughout naivete is that most dudes only needed a place.
A real man needed a ‘reason.’
For Rem, gone were the days of fucking on urges and because time, space, and opportunity presented itself to allow it.
Rem needed a reason-he had matured past that dick-of-urgency stage-a stage most men never reach. I was learning. I learned that all men lead through all these things: their mind, their heart, their dick and/or their money.
Rem led in that order.
A lot of men lead with their dick and/or their money (if they got it); fucking their own hearts and minds, as if they did not have one, or have no clue about what a heart and mind was used for.
Rem had it all in a bag.
He knew his literal worth as well as what he was working with, and a woman had to earn that dick.
He was such a turn on.
It was exclusive and incredible, and so was he.
So in some way, like the average girl, having given herself to that man she loved and wanted to spend the rest of her life with, Rem, felt hurt.
This conversation we just had proved very much the kind of surprise that his mind never entertained.
He knew he had me in the bag, but had no idea of the atypical kind of baggage that I secretly carried.
Finding out something new about my ‘thinking’ and my ‘feeling’-as a result of what, and how for years-I had been living; he definitely needing some answers on my plan of action. He needed to know if I wanted out of life what he was working towards getting out of life and as if he knew something I did not know at that moment: That life was being created as we lay there and talked.
He needed some answers that night-but for me, truthfully-I didn’t even know what I wanted to do with myself at the time, let alone a man like him.
It takes a certain caliber of woman to understand and appreciate that caliber of a man.
They are so few and far between, that a woman would have to be evolved in order to recognize him if she met him. I just wasn’t that woman-that evolved woman-so I ducked, dodged and sulked; afraid to answer him, because I couldn’t.
At this moment, I could tell that those weekends over, when his mom-from out of town-would call, getting used to “Angie” being a household name, and he’d tell her: “I’m gonna marry this girl, mom.” It was more than just talk. In this moment, I could tell that he was next to wanting to get married and make a life with me as soon as yesterday-all I had to do was say what he wanted to hear.
All that was much too much for me: his ‘plans’-his ‘ready’-his ‘action’; all that was a step that I was not ready for.
My mind wasn’t prepared for that kind of preparation.
I was too busy taking and living life one day at a time.
With ‘plans’ I was already once bitten-twice, shy twice bitten, forever shy.
Plans centered around schooling 4 to 12 years had already fallen through after “love” showed up and “life” happened.
Nah. the last time I was in preparation mode, my “life” changed drastically and my fairytale became a stark-raving reality and one that I had been living in for the past five years-even in that very moment. I wasn’t a stranger to what it felt like for somebody to love me truly-madly-deeply.
I’ve been “loved” before. That fairytale ended too.
Now here I was, standing in the middle of real-life again, being asked to [what seemed like to me] another fairytale: That the reality about “love” (when all is literally said and done) is, that it was something to enjoy in the moment together-all in the moments together-period.
“Love” has no place or control over itself when the moment(s) are away from either party.
The biggest reward you got out of “love” was if somebody loved you back. And the fact that you shared love with them were those “moments”-those irreplaceable “moments.”
But in the bigger scheme of things, you didn’t do anything but teach them how to love and make love to another person, ultimately.
‘Virginity’ and the ‘newness’ of things are really trial basis.’
People are here to learn love lessons from each other until they end up with the one person-later on, who, at that time, will be in receipt of that person having finally gotten right: all that you taught them about love and making love.
I had the fairytale first stop.
Let me tell it, I had a couple of other stops along the way, and now, here we are: Rem and I-at what I already knew about and experienced so, I would recede with caution.
No, I wasn’t walking around with a broken heart, I was well-good and over every stop along the way. It’s just that when it came to love, I understood it to be this way.
I wanted love, I wanted Remedy’s love but I wanted it one day at a time.
No more “plans” and “preparation” for me anymore. That’s the part that scared me since my innocent days with Santana.
As dated as it may be, when Tina Turner sang that song, she was speaking for me. The lyrics may as well have had my picture right next to them: “What’s love got to do with it? What’s love but a second-hand emotion? What’s love got to do with it? / I’ve been taking on a new direction, and I have to say. I’ve been thinking about my own protection. It scares me to feel this way.”
And I put my life on that.
Receding while proceeding with caution…
~~~~~~~~~
For a few weeks after, though Rem and I
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
