Do you ever get that feeling that someone is watching you? Not stalker/Law & Order: SVU vibes, but being surveyed, observed, consumed, desired? I always have that feeling; the air shifts, and I feel a tickle up and down my spine.
EARLIER TODAY
XXX
and I spent the whole day together. Our perfectly curated day began with us hitting the gym, eating everything on our plates at Waffle House, sharing a sensual hot shower, and having a carb-induced nap in his king-size bed.
Two hours later, I feel faint tickles on my lower back. I wake up to forehead kisses from
XXX,
and I smile.
He is stroking my cheeks and moving my dreadlocks out of my face. I open my eyes to see his beautiful face: full and pronounced lips, a strong civil rights nose, and smooth, dark olive-brown skin. His big almond-shaped brown eyes are sweet and kind, surrounded by perfectly shaped eyebrows and long eyelashes.
I'm so jealous of his eyes. Do you know how much Mary Kay eye cream, serums, eyebrow maintenance, and other bull shit I must buy and use for my eyes to look anywhere near his? I'm still in a dreamy haze when my thoughts are interrupted,
"Wake up, Doll,"
XXX
says with the cutest smile and white teeth. His voice is deep and smooth. "It's nice outside today. Let's go for a ride."
You would have thought my momma told me that 1. we were going to the candy store. 2. She is buying me a pony and a lifesize pink Barbie Jeep 3. We'll get ice cream on the way home! I performed a long and deep catlike stretch and sprung out of bed.
XXX
stands in the bathroom doorway dramatically, staring at his watch and taking deep breaths insinuating that I am taking too long. I look back at him and playfully roll my eyes at him. He laughs and props up in the bathroom doorway. His head leaning to the side, smiling and listening to me ramble on about nothing. I know I get on his nerves, but he never shows it. He just chuckles at me and shakes his head. I finish in a record time of 45 minutes and grab my purse as I walk to the door. He gives me a firm but playful smack on my butt as I walk past him out the door.
The weather typically feels like your badass little cousin left the front door to hell wide open, and it's so damn humid that even standing in front of the fan, wet and naked, chewing Sonic ice won't cool you off. Technically, it's Fall, but around here, the temperature is still in the 90s until the holidays. Today's weather is surprisingly pleasant for late September in Louisiana; It feels like mumu and coochie breeze weather!
It's the mid-80 degrees. There's a nice breeze and soft, sunny skies. My type of vibe! But instead of a mumu and no drawls, I opted for a loose and slightly sheer button-down white shirt, cut-off jean shorts, four waist beads that I looped into anklets (two on each ankle), stacked bangles on both wrists, an array of gemstone rings on 5 of my ten fingers, oversized hoop earrings, and platform sandals. I top my vibe off with my signature electric blue eyeliner, bronzer on my nose and cheeks, and fire-engine red lipstick.
XXX
, always the cool, fly, and quiet guy, keeps it low-key: yellow gold chain on his neck and matching bracelet on his right wrist, apple watch on his left hand, a simple t-shirt, athletic shorts, and a pair of Kobe's on his feet.
We hop into his red Monte Carlo and dip out.
XXX
pulls up at the Downtown River Market. We shop, well
XXX
took me shopping, from Black crafters and artists vending on the river market today. I was like a kid in a candy store, dragging
XXX
up and down the vendor section and stopping at all my favorite vendor's tables. I racked up on handmade crafts, clothes, jewelry, art, and beauty products. I even got some plants from local Black growers. I love visiting the River Market, especially when my people are on the scene. I love the shift in the air when we, the black creatives, come out to play.
When we finished shopping, I turned to
XXX
and said, "Baby, thank you so much! You spoil me."
Kissing me softly on my forehead and lifting my chin to him,
XXX
says, "You're welcome, Doll." He takes a step back and licks his lips. A smile creeps across his lips, and he says, "Let's put all your loot in the car. I hear some music playing; let's go check it out." I grin as we walk off.
XXX
's hand is at the small of my back, igniting flutters up and down my back.
We dropped off my stuff in his car and strolled down the pier towards the live music. On the way there, we stopped at a bar and got daiquiris. I got a 24-ounce Kick-Ass Kool-Aid. It's Hypnotic, Hurricane, and Strawberry. The daiquiris are 2 for 1 (always), so
XXX
got one too. Strawberry. So lame.
"I'm just chilling, Doll, get what you want," says
XXX
. "Gone and get you an extra shot. You know you want to," he chuckles. I looked at him and burst out laughing. He was right. I got an extra shot in my Kick-Ass Kool-Aid. I love a mid-afternoon buzz.
XXX
wrapped his arm around my shoulder as we walked down the pier. We talked about nothing, particularly stealing kisses and playing along the way. I love times like this when we enjoy each other's time. We settled down by the pavilion on the river near the band setup. "Oh, yes," I screamed, "My type of vibe!"
XXX
smiled at me as he took in my reaction to the scene before us. The five-member band, led by a bad, thick chocolate sista with a bold and soulful voice, had the entire pavilion rocking! The four remaining members were men, and they were giving so much energy. There was one on the keyboard, the drums, the guitar, and another on vocals.
They mixed their original music with Black classic and current soulful and blues music. My type of vibe!!! I was singing and dancing the entire time.
XXX
, still chill and very relaxed with his demeanor, sat on a bench and pulled out a cigar he had purchased earlier when we were shopping with the vendors. He kicked back, puffed, and watched me make a fool of myself. I was out there floating in my little world. The wind blew, making my locks swing, my hips swayed, and my booty bounced. Plus, that daiquiri made me feel nice; this was
my
scene.
XXX
indulged me just a bit, danced The Wobble with me, and attempted the Tamia Line Dance. You won't find him in the middle of the floor being or seeking the spotlight. He'll be there, in the cut by himself or with his friends taking in the scene.
After chilling on the river all afternoon, we swung by the Masur Museum to check out this dope exhibition by a local young Black woman. I was so excited about the collection of work because the artist has quite the buzz around her, and this is her first solo show at this historical museum. The show is all about exploring rest and the care of black women. I had seen the exhibition several times before, and I'd been talking
XXX
's ear off about one particular piece about
CONSENT
. I wanted, no, needed him to see it himself. It's such a phenomenal piece of artwork.
He stared at me as I did my artsy-fartsy thing, talking, oohing, and awing. He let me go on and on about matters he probably already knew about regarding the artist and all her work. He's a visual artist, and I'm an appreciator. But he was engaging with me, nodding, giving his perspectives, chuckling, and grinning that sexy-ass smile at me. He grabbed my hand, pulled me close to him, and smacked me on my ass.
"Let's get out of here,"