Club Maze Pt 02

I couldn't see Nala, or how she was feeling as we flew towards Hawthorne. My hand shifting gears, as I drove us through Los Angeles freeways and stop lights, fighting traffic before dawn struck the horizon with it's bright halo, cascading against Hollywood Hills. Nala, a bad bitch with unfiltered dark humor suddenly turned soft. On the road, she sounded more nervous. As oppose to the club, where her petulance ridiculed self-righteous stoicism. For the next twenty minutes, Nala couldn't help but talk and talk, and spill details I was not ready to hear.

When I had spent months watching her petite black body with my eyes, traveling by her plush tush and slender legs, how her back straightens when no one is watching, and how her eyes glistens against a soft light. I dreamed of kissing her shoulder, as a golden hase would highlight the sweat off her dark tight skin. I would ask what I had to do to be worthy of such a privilege. Her humor made it hard for me to feel safe giving in to her charm. Her strong personality had me intimidated from becoming close to her, as one wrong move could make me her target of ridicule easily.

But, for some reason, Nala wasn't her jovial self. Not in my car. Here, she slouched and colored herself yellow. Fear and vulnerability seeped out. It wasn't offensive, but I was offended. I felt like my hunt had been lack luster, as the quips and chatter had dulled into lamentations of sad nostalgia. The closer we drove to her home, the more she spilled. And by the time we parked, all I could concentrate on were her last phrase:

"I fucked up along the way."

With two children and jobs in day time security and nighttime masseuse work, the beautiful Millennial had concluded her accomplishments to be just being a better mother to a couple of brilliant daughters. What was supposed to be a hot wistful night ended up in a forecast of fatherhood I wasn't so sure I was ready to comply to. Yes, I want children. I wanted my own children someday. But to prop myself as that kind of figure in someone's life, when all I wanted was romance was a tall ask.

Easily, I could take advantage of her situation and be that man she needed in her family's life, in exchange for a warm bed, but something in me panicked. Was my heart ready for that life? I had a job, I had freedom, but soon with this spotlight, this hot seat, front row and center- would I want to step down from a potential I could reach out for.

As a Bouncer, I looked forward to shooting guns, using my boxing training, and working with people my age, if not younger. It was lively, it was exciting. And though a tinge of danger loomed over my head, standing as some authority over a small domain had centered me. It wasn't much now, but with a few more years under my belt, and some certifications I could join Celebrity or Diplomat Protection and chauffer in a bodyguard syndicate.

I dreamed of traveling to exotic places in a suit, partying with my fellow guards at my peak physique. I could keep my sex appeal, while riding the backs of popular icons, such as Pop Stars and Senators. My life wasn't fabulous, but at least there was a chance to move up.

I saw her house, a two story Victorian, towering with two garage doors and only one car on the drive way. My eyes saw Nala at the corner of my eye, still nervous, but somehow attentive to my feelings. Without a word, she read my eyes unquestionably. A wish seemed to have passed at that moment, hers if I could say who truly asked for its fruition.

God, she was so beautiful. I was looking forward to the taste of her skin. Both of us being petite, my mass of a Daddy bod could easily tower her in bed, enveloping her with my thick limbs, nestling my lips on that amazing back of hers. Her sultry voice could go husky, I could almost imagine how she must sound when I ate her clitoris, massaging her insides with my tongue. My mouth has always been too small for it, so finding someplace to visit and stay for a while would've been bliss. Oh how I would listen to her moan. If I could record it, I'd have it play on repeat. Nala...

I swear, if you weren't able to make me laugh I'd have kept my mouth shut and stayed on my lane. You could've made it home safely without my interference, but here we were, struggling to be next to each other. My eyes looking away, frozen and afraid of joining you in your journey in life. How precious your daughters must be. To welcome me into your doors, candid for the sake of dignity - hats off to your honesty. I am not worthy.

For if I had the heart to walk into your life, as a guest with all your flaws and all your blessings, you would've gifted me with that delicious black pearl you call a body. Oh, how after care would be at the end of our time together. What your legs would feel, as the electricity flowed through your glorious limbs. I would lick your beautiful toes, my fingers worshipping your heels and tendons, kissing your feet with oil and cream and the sweet sweet milk you deserve.

If only we could take our time, rocking on your soft bed, in positions meant for heathens past. I would bend and curl my back for you. We'd go slow, whispering our desiring with hot musky breathes, inhaling the heat between our raw hair and pelvis, to sometime huffing from the sensation we could fulfill between our intercourse. What you must sound like when I squeezed your ribs and pull your hips. I would choke your neck and pump you with my member until you came. I'd tie your hands, blindfold you, and use whatever vibrator to help finish the job.

There were nights where I hoped you were able to submit to me. To be taken care of like a good girl, as I pampered you with the whip of my tongue. I would hold you tight and fold you like a fresh towel. I could bite you, as I treated you like ice cream, melting in my mouth as you salivated and sweat your sweats and spice, dripping upon my hands. I would keep you safe, keep you close, and let no one ever harm you again. Oh Nala, I would offer your peace and ecstacy, reprieve and solace, a confidant taking your side against all odds. If only I could... If I could only offer you just the first step.

The coward in me was stuck in place, silent and oppressive. Nala didn't even offer me comfort, just a farewell and thanks for the ride. We reached for our usual embrace, the one that kept us warm before we left the club, like hot coco on a rainy day, or a bottle of Hennessy on a lonely Friday night. At that point of our hug, she knew well that she wasn't alone in the disappointment of one's life choices, but as we released each other from our bodies' soft touch I saw her release me from the torrent I would've entered if I had passed through her home's front door. There was so much more to her situation she hadn't mentioned yet, and I wasn't ready for her teenage motherhood, then I would've never had the spine to handle the rest.

She left the car, almost ready to walk away from me. I stayed a while, watching her stand next to my Fiat 500, nearly hoping for my mind to change, and decide to be with her. The petite goddess with the perfect legs and tush, the woman with the nape of a queen, eyes of an angel, and beauty meant for royalty. All this could've been mine, even for one night, if I would just grow a backbone, and kiss her already.

Not even a minute passed, and she returned to enter my car. She found her purse on my passenger floor, but rather than leaving swiftly, she gave me an extra minute to reconsider. To her, I was compatible for her, her family, her life, why would I stop here? Was sober sex so bad? No. It wasn't that. Maybe she actually felt what I really felt. The confession I couldn't pronounce verbally, though my eyes betrayed me for months, working with her. God, Nala, please don't do it. I could thrash your perfect skin with just one hand. I would demand you to stay in bed until you craved no one else. A single choker would make you mine, and I don't even know if I could keep myself from dismissing consent, with depth of adoraton I had for you. Please Nala, please, don't ask me to come in. I was at your mercy, your servant, begging for reasonability.

Nala took my hesitation as good-bye, and left not only my car, but my life since. Returning to work was unbearable, knowing why she wouldn't return again. Tom would smile sometimes, nudging me for getting so lucky that one night. I hoped my silence would've been clear enough of a message, and leave the subject alone, but their jovial optimism was unstoppable. I never bothered to explain, and quit a month later.

Until this day, I think of Nala. And how no black woman had been able to measure any taller than her.