Blac Sheep

CHAPTER 2.1: HENRY

You know how some people have a before-and-after event that, in one way or another, changes their life? It's one of those things you don't necessarily have to be aware of while it's happening. It can sneak up on you over time, slowly clawing away at something you didn't even know was there. And before you know it, you can divide your life into a before and an after. Ishtar was that thing for me—the subtle disruption that separated my life into two distinct spheres.

This was back when I was still punishing my family by blowing through my trust fund. I started the partying in India and made my way through to East Africa. I don't think there's a dive bar or club in any of those places I didn't go to. Wish I remembered most of it, though; I wish it wasn't all a drug-fuelled blur. I would have made it all the way to the western side if I could. But some of the visa laws and restrictions got a bit hectic so I made my way back to the States for a break.

New York seemed like the perfect place for that break—that was where most of the people I met abroad were most interested in. New York was America to them and I, an American, had never been there even once. I booked a flight from Nairobi to New York as soon as I could.

One night I was out with a few of my friends (mostly because I don't know what else to call them) at a club near NYU. A few students were also there. They looked like the kind to get smashed for the sake of getting smashed.

A group of five college-aged girls walked into the club and went straight to the bar for drinks. Pretty soon they started talking loudly and laughing among each other. Then they left bar for the dance floor.

That's when things got really interesting for me and my friends. Troy tapped me on the shoulder and pointed to the girls. "I think we're about to get a show," he said.

"Yeah," agreed Eddie.

"Let's enjoy it while it lasts," I added.

There was this one girl—she wasn't even my type (a bit too short and thin for my liking), but she was just so sexy in the way she moved. She and her friends were at that phase when girls grind against one another in a club because they think it turns guys on. It does if I'm being honest, and two of those girls looked like they were ready to fuck each other right then and there.

One of the taller girls was standing behind the short one, slowly pulling the short one's dress up. Then they would turn around and nibble each other's lips a little.

I think at one point the tall one even fingered the short one because there was no way she was grinding her hips like that simply because she liked the music. Then the short one turned around to fully face where me, Troy and Eddie were sitting and watching their little antics.

That was it—the first time she stole my breath. She had the most gorgeous face I had ever seen. Her eyes kind of mesmerised me, like I was a puppet who was controlled by her gaze. I couldn't even think of looking away from her. She had this smug little smile as she swayed her hips from side to side, slowly, slowly moving them like she was riding something between her legs. Gosh, how I wanted that something to be my dick.

She put one of her hands in her hair and moved the other one down her body. All the while that smug little smile of hers was still there. It was like she knew what she was doing to me and every other straight guy or lesbian who could see her.

She did the 'come on' motion with her finger and of course, I had to. Troy and I stood up at the same time. The girl shook her head and repeated the hand gesture looking straight at me.

"Lucky bastard," said Troy, sitting back down.

"Your lucky day will come too, my friend," I laughed. "Try one of her friends."

"But I want that one."

"Sorry," I shrugged and walked towards the dance floor.

The music was too loud where she was. There was no point in talking. We danced for maybe five minutes—probably the hardest five minutes of my life. She deliberately rubbed up against my crotch with her ass. My hard-on was ridiculous at that point. I swear if she didn't grab my hand and lead me away I would have exploded.

We walked to the passageway that led to the bathrooms. It was after midnight so a few girls were trying extra hard to either walk their friends to the bathroom to vomit, or to keep those same friends from being isolated with some random guy who could take advantage of them. That got me curious.

"Aren't you scared, or maybe too drunk to be...you know, doing whatever it is we're going to do?" I asked my little friend.

The music was softer there. She shook her head and smiled the sweetest smile, not the seductive one she had been using on the dance floor. She shrugged.

"I didn't drink because I wanted to be sober. I kind of want to remember everything. And I'm not scared. Not tonight."

"What's so special about tonight?"

She stopped walking forward and turned around to back me against the wall. She bit the right corner of her lower lip and shrugged again. The thin strap of her dress slipped off her shoulder, causing the left side of her dress to sag down.

"I turned twenty two," she said.

"Most people go all out on their twenty-first, not their twenty-second birthday."

"I had a big report to hand in last year so I postponed the fun, I guess." She subtly licked her lips, looked at my hard-on, craned her neck to reach my ear and whispered: "Would you like to postpone this fun?" That was when she rubbed her hand against my hard-on.

I think I moaned before I answered her. "Now that I now it's your birthday I feel like a douchebag. We don't even know each other's names."

"I'm Ishtar."

"Well, happy birthday, Ishtar? What kind of name is that anyway?"

"Thank you for the wishes." She did a little curtesy. "My parents are weird. They named me after a sex goddess. You can also tell me your name if you think that will make you feel better about being a douchebag."

When a girl as hot as Ishtar dances the way she was doing, and she tells you a story about being some kind of student, and she also tells you she was named after a sex goddess, you have to figure one of three things is happening: one, she's going really hard for the 'sexy stranger' routine; two, she's an escort; or three, she's straight up lying about one or more of the things she's saying about herself.

Given that I was already going by a different name in order to distance myself from my family as much as possible, I decided I could easily play her game.

"I'm Lincoln," I told her.

"I'm pleased to meet you, Lincoln. Would you also like to know the name of every childhood pet I had or would you rather bend me over and fuck me?" By then her hands were unzipping my pants and reaching in to touch my throbbing dick.

"Here, let me help you."

I easily picked her up and reversed our positions such that she was the one against the wall. She unbuttoned my pants to free me. Her smug smile returned when she saw that I was fully hard. While I discreetly put on a condom, she discreetly slid down her panties. Well, we were as discreet as one can be in the passageway leading to the bathrooms of some seedy club. I'm pretty sure one of the girls sleeping off her vomiting spell knew exactly what we were doing.

I personally didn't care. I tested Ishtar's pussy with my middle finger and was very glad to find that she was already dripping wet.

"Your friend finger fucked you, didn't she?" I asked.

"Yeah. Does that bother you?"

"No. Just please remind me to thank her later."

With that, I lifted Ishtar from the floor, slightly, and entered her with my dick. With a really loud moan, she wrapped her legs around my hips and immediately started riding me. God, she felt so good. Every thrust I gave, she returned. She rolled her hips the way she had done on the dance floor. I had to pin her arms against the wall with mine to keep her in place.

Nibbling her ear, I whispered, "Do you want to cum, my little nymph?"

I don't think she could speak because all she managed was, "Uh huh."

"Your wish is my command." I plunged into her faster, harder—that was what she wanted because she kept whispering it over and over again.

"Harder," she demanded. "Faster, please."

There were times when her voice threatened to go high such that what we were doing wouldn't be a mystery to anyone...not that it was since half my ass was exposed. But neither of us wanted to be arrested for some kind of indecent exposure. Every time her moans got a little too high I rewarded her with a kiss. It was sloppy, but it did the trick, and it felt really good.

The pace of her hip grinding increased. Her pussy walls squeezed and released my cock so smoothly, massaged it, cloaked the condom in her slick juices, and repeated. I almost wished I had done away with the protection. She felt like a magician who specialised in making my dick feel the way it did. Like that it continued until we both neared our climax.

"I'm...uh...uh...um...cumming," she said, moaning in between her words.

I thrust myself into her a few more times and with the last one, exploded. She screamed her own release, so I caught her lips with mine again. Her pussy clenched onto my dick a bit more tightly and gosh, if someone told me that was what heaven felt like, I would have believed it.

After a while she started relaxing. We parted our lips. Gradually, my dick started going soft until I could leave her pussy. I softly placed her on the floor and helped her adjust her dress.

"How are you going to deal with that?" she pointed to the condom when she asked the question.

I dropped it on the floor. She laughed at that. Then she made a disgusted face. "Now I know how eeky stuff like used condoms end up in public bathrooms."

I made a mock-shocked face. "You see when a man and woman love each other—"

She interrupted me by gently punching my shoulder, to which I responded with an exaggerated 'ouch.' She, on the other hand, just shrugged and said, "I know people have sex in public places. I just mean...you know, I never thought I had it in me to be one of those eeky people."

"Do you regret it?"

To answer, she stood on her toes, craned her neck as high as she could, and kissed me on the cheek. "No. And thank you." She returned to the task of using the dry parts of her lacy little underwear to wipe her pussy juices from her inner thighs. "Please put this in your pocket for me. I left my purse with my friends." She handed me her soaked underwear.

"Sure thing. But why are you thanking me for what we just did?"

I never received the answer to that question because apparently someone had gone to report us to the bouncer. Luckily he found my pants already zipped up and Ishtar's skimpy dress adjusted to its full length, which meant it barely covered her ass.

She was the one who saw the bouncer first. "Oh my gosh we're in trouble," she warned me.

"Take off your shoes now and come with me."

I took her hand and sprinted towards the exit.

The bouncer almost caught us but Ishtar threw her shoes at him. They were the pointy kind that no man would want to have thrown in his face. The poor guy dodged and I'm guessing that due to his sheer size (and something that was spilled on the floor), he toppled over, giving me and Ishtar the golden opportunity to sidestep the curious people that were fast gathering around us.

It was only after five minute or so that we stopped running. By then we were well outside the club.

"I don't think he's going to chase us this far," said Ishtar.

"I don't think so, either."

"I just hope my friends saw us leaving. I don't want them to worry."

"They shouldn't worry. You have a very strong man who's going to protect you." I pulled back my shirt sleeves and showed her my biceps as I said that. She laughed for the second time and I had to catch my breath.

You know how, when some people laugh, their faces crinkle into a myriad of every beautiful emotion you can imagine? Their eyes sparkle, their heads shake, their laughter gets caught in a little adorable oink sound that they immediately try to hush down, and they try to cover their face with their hands. Ishtar was one of those people. I think that's what I missed most when she was gone from my life, seemingly irretrievable.

And then just like that, with the snap of a finger, she was back when I least expected it. At first I thought I was imagining her. She had been on my mind for the past seven years, so it was a possibility that my hallucinations were getting stronger.

One time I thought I saw her at a concert, by a bus station, walking down the road, at the beach, anywhere and everywhere I looked. It didn't matter how hard I tried to forget her because she was always on my mind.

But the last time I saw her, actually saw her in the flesh and not just as a result of my imagination, she was throwing half of the cheap crockery in her apartment at me. She hated me in that moment. I broke her heart and so she broke mine. She didn't even give me a chance to tell my side of things, she just shattered my heart into a million little pieces and disappeared. And now there she was—on my brother's arm and apparently about to marry him.

She had somehow gotten even more beautiful since that last time I saw her. I could tell that although she was still on the thin side, she had gained some weight. Her hair was up, so every gorgeous feature on her face was in full view: her large brown eyes, her sharp cheekbones, and her sweet full lips.

The dress she wore was tighter than what she usually wore when we were together. She was the hippy kind; everything she owned was made from some kind of natural fibre and had at least three colors on it. I figured she must have bought the formal white dress she was wearing for the special occasion of meeting my parents. My sweet little Ishtar; she didn't even believe in marriage. What the hell was she doing with my brother?

"Hello, Ishtar. I'm Henry. I'm pleased to meet you," I said to her.

Before I knew it she was keeling over unconscious.

I instinctively rushed forward to catch her but my brother beat me to it. I felt like I couldn't breathe. She had always had the ability to do that to me. Sometimes I'd look over and find her smiling at something she was reading. I'd lose my breath for a little while, forget to think even, and her face would be the only thing that mattered or existed. That scared me lot to be honest, a whole freaking lot.

But seeing her in that moment, lying unconscious in my brother's arms, I felt a new kind of fear. Gosh, if anything happened to her...

Wait, she wasn't mine to worry over anymore. And I hadn't ruled out that she was using my brother for some kind of sick game against me.

Christopher was panicking. In fact, everyone was suddenly in a state of panic. Even Avery, who was always as cool as a cucumber, seemed to be knocked out of her senses. I got on my knees and took off Ishtar's shoes. Then I took her hands in mine and softly massaged them.

I didn't know what I was doing but I figured...I figured it was better than nothing. I simply couldn't lose her. Not again. Gosh, it was confusing being there! I still hated her for what she did to me but I also...I don't know what I felt other than fear.

"Ishtar, Ishtar," I whispered, over and over again. Christopher was doing the same thing. None of it was helping, though. It was like time was moving too fast, but it had also stopped and I was the most useless man to ever live.

"Get her some water," said someone behind me. I didn't look to see who it was; I didn't care. I don't even think I was thinking straight. That must be the reason I went over to give her CPR. I don't know if I was doing it correctly. I pinched her nose close and breathed into her mouth.

"Please come back," I whispered.

"Please come back, Ishtar."

Before I could do further damage, Uncle Julian shoved me to the side. At least one of the panicking people had had the good sense to get a doctor. Everyone was gathered around us at that point. I stood useless on the side lines and watched Uncle Julian bring her back to me...That's what I told myself. Damn!

"I need to get her in the house," said Uncle Julian. "Chris, I need you to help me with that."

Christopher nodded and together, they carried her into the house and onto one of my mother's lavish couches in the living room.

It's a lucky thing that Uncle Julian is one of those paranoid guys. He had a medical kit in his car. He quickly attended to her. I felt like I couldn't breathe again and that everything was moving in slow motion, or not moving at all. Then just like that, like a dream almost, she started breathing heavily and opened her eyes. You could hear a collective sigh of relief sweep through the room.

Christopher immediately knelt beside her. He whispered something and she smiled. It felt like I was breathing for the first time in a really long time. That smile, that smile was the stuff of great memories. But when she looked around the room and saw me standing near the corner, that smile disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. She still hated me, it seemed.

Dear God, it was going to be one long week.

***

My mother believed she was responsible for convincing me to stay at the house. I let her believe it. The truth wasn't something I was going to tell her just then, perhaps not ever. So she rambled on about how law firms were looking for talent like mine.

"You know, working in all these other countries might actually work in your favor," said my mother. "Firms are looking for that sort of thing now. They want someone adaptable, someone who has proven to be dedicated, someone worldly and mature."

I looked to my father. He was very determined to acknowledge my presence as little as possible. As far as he was concerned, I died eight years ago. The only reason he put up with me was because mom missed me and she wanted us to rebuild our relationship. He chewed his hard-boiled eggs like they were leather. I swear I could hear his teeth grinding.

"I wasn't a lawyer in any of those countries, mom. I couldn't practice in most of them," I told her. "And I ended up in jail in a few of them." I added that last part especially for dear old dad.

"Sometimes I think you say these things simply to shock us," said Avery, in between bites of some kind of exotic breakfast salad that was meant to strengthen her core (whatever that meant).

"I assure you that I've been every bit as lecherous as I've confessed to be, little sister."

"I think you should still try," said mom. "You were such a brilliant student, and Mr Rush has always maintained you were incredibly promising as an intern. You know they always have a place for you at the firm, Henry. Please consider it."

We were never going to see eye to eye on that so I just smiled and told her, "I don't think it matters since I'm not staying long, anyway."

My father chose that moment to contribute to the conversation. He spoke to mom. "If he wants to go, dear, let him. Christopher is moving back. Surely—"

"It will be another year before Henry comes for another visit, Charles. I'm not going to—" mom cut herself off with a heavy sigh, as though she had been about to say something she didn't mean and immediately thought better of it. "Anyway, please consider it, Henry. Please."

When I thought about it, I realised that mom and dad's conversations were more stilted than I remembered. Dad was always a quiet and reserved man, but he seemed quitter somehow. There was definitely trouble there. I only cared as far as mom was concerned.

Otherwise, I didn't want to press the issue because I knew it was bound to end badly. So I just smiled and nodded without actually promising my mother anything.

Christopher entered the kitchen with the question: "But you'll be back for the wedding, right? You're supposed to be my best man."