Brooklyn in the early 2010s was a place split in two. On one side of the avenue, the brownstones of Crown Heights buzzed with the rhythm of African American and Caribbean families. On the other, the white Jewish landlords who owned the houses those Black folks lived in. I'd been walking those streets my entire life, but that summer, everything was different.
The summer after high school. Eighteen, restless. My parents kept a tight leash on me, monitoring my every move, but they couldn't control my thoughts. Or what I did with my body. This was before everyone had a smartphone, so I was free to be wild in secret.
I was a cute black girl with a soft, round face and a body that filled every inch of my short, tight clothes. My thighs were thick, my breasts heavy and round, always more than a handful. My mother hated the way I dressed, but I loved watching men's eyes catch on my hips, the dip of my waist. It was my quiet rebellion against a life spent caged up and told to behave.
I'd go to the library every afternoon just to get out of the house. A little neighborhood library tucked away on a quiet street about a 10 minute walk from the two bedroom apartment I shared with my parents, the kind that felt like a world all its own. That's where I saw Aaron for the first time.
He was tall, at least six feet, and dressed in the traditional black suit and wide-brimmed hat of an Orthodox Jewish boy. His blonde hair was straight and stuck down from his hat, but unlike the other boys, he was clean-shaven, the line of his jaw sharp and strong with full pouty lips. We'd nod at each other for the first few days. Then, one day, he asked, "Do you have the time?"
I glanced down at my empty wrist, cheeks burning. "I... no," I said, fumbling with the strap of my library tote "I don't."
Aaron's grin spread slow and easy, his crystal clear blue eyes dragging over me in a way that made my mouth go dry. "I know," he said, leaning in just a fraction. "I just wanted an excuse to talk to you."
He wasn't shy. Not even close.
From then on, he'd walk with me to the library. I found out he was visiting his grandparents for the summer, staying in a big house on the Jewish side of the avenue. Normally, he lived in Connecticut, where things weren't as strict, and he could get away with shaving his face. He was twenty-one, three years older than me, and everything about him felt forbidden and thrilling.
By the middle of the summer, we'd spend our afternoons sitting together in the reference section, pretending to read while our knees brushed beneath the table. We'd whisper about nothing, about everything. About how much I hated being trapped under my parents' roof. About how much I wanted more. He asked if I had a boyfriend and I joked with him that I'm too young and beautiful to be in a relationship, which made him take his hat off and kiss me until I was dizzy.
His name was Aaron. Twenty-one. Home for the summer, staying with his grandparents because they were getting older, and he wanted to spend some time with them. I felt excited to have his attention. I'd kissed boys before but I wanted a man. And Aaron had a look about him like he knew what to do with a girl and had the hands to do it.
One day, instead of continuing down to the library, we stopped at the tiny neighborhood park. The park was empty, the slide rusty and the sandbox a crater of wet sand. It had rained earlier and he spread his jacket on the seat of the swing so I wouldn't get my tennis skirt wet before leaning on the fence across from me. He stared right between my legs as I swung higher and higher, and it turned me on to know he could see the front of my panties as my swinging blew my skirt up.
I swung until I felt dizzy from the speed and the heights, sticking my feet in the mulch to slow down to a stop.
I crooked a finger at him, and he came.
"Why do you keep walking this way?" I asked, toying with the end of my braid, my chest heaving as I tried to catch my breath.
"There's a bakery on Rogers that sells these curry chicken patties. I like to sneak one before my grandfather gets home."
I smiled. "So you're sneaking stuff that isn't kosher." I clicked my tongue.
"Don't tell on me." he laughed.
"Well that day I was anyway, and then I saw you and I wanted to talk to you, but I didn't know if you'd talk to me back." He looked at me hungrily and shoved his hands in his pockets.
"So, I just came out at the same time every day, hoping to catch a glimpse of you walking this way until I got the nerve to talk to you."
I laughed at his shyness, and he flashed that lopsided grin I was getting used to. My pulse thrummed in my ears, loud and fast.
"Do you want to kiss me?" I asked.
He didn't answer. Just leaned down, his big hands framing my face, his mouth hot and insistent against mine. There was nothing soft about it. He kissed me like he'd been waiting to do it since the day he first asked me the time.
When he finally pulled back, he dragged his thumb over my bottom lip, eyes heavy-lidded and dark.
"We should head to the library before it starts raining again," I said, clearing my throat as I jumped up from the swing.
Aaron shook out his jacket, slinging it over his arm as we walked the rest of the way to the library. Inside, we found our usual spot on the floor, nestled behind the encyclopedias. I slid down against the wall, and Aaron dropped down beside me, our shoulders pressed close.
We'd hidden a copy of
Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire
back there -- one of the only ones still left in the library's collection. My parents had banned the books in our house, calling them witchcraft after something my mom heard on a televangelist show. Aaron's parents weren't much different; they'd called the books inappropriate, so he never got to read them.
That's how we started reading them together, my voice a soft murmur as I read the words aloud.
Today, as I read, his hand slid up my thigh, stroking softly just beneath the hem of my skirt. My breath hitched, and I glanced around. No one in sight. This was before cameras were everywhere, before we had to worry about who might be watching.
I looked up at him, and he dipped his head, catching my lips in a kiss -- slow and playful, his teeth nipping at my bottom lip.
"I just like to watch your mouth while you're talking," he whispered, his breath warm against my skin.
"I can do a lot more than talk," I said, nodding toward the bathrooms at the back of the library. "Why don't you meet me in the men's room in a few minutes, and I can show you."
His eyes widened, a slow grin spreading across his face. "Aren't you afraid we'll get caught?"
"Not if you hurry," I said, standing up and smoothing my skirt, winking at him over my shoulder. "I'll be in the handicap stall."
I walked over to the bathroom, the sound of my sneakers echoing against the tile. Inside, I waited exactly thirty seconds before the door creaked open. I stayed quiet, holding my breath.
"Kerry?" His voice was soft, but I could hear the excitement there, threaded through the nerves.
"In here," I whispered, cracking the stall door just enough to see his face, flushed and grinning.
The door clicked shut behind him, and we were alone. The air in the bathroom was cool and smelled faintly of industrial cleaner. My heart was pounding so hard I could feel it in my throat.
Aaron stepped closer, and I pulled him into the stall, closing the door behind us. The space was tight, barely enough room for both of us to stand, and that only made it hotter. He pressed his back against the wall, his dark eyes roaming over me as I leaned up, grazing my lips against his jaw, then his neck, feeling the rough scrape of stubble against my mouth.
"You took your time," I whispered, dragging my fingers down his chest, feeling the rise and fall of his breaths beneath his thin white shirt.
"Had to make sure no one saw me," he said, his voice low and husky. He slid his hands under my skirt, rough palms gliding up the backs of my thighs. "You wearing those little thongs again?"
I bit my lip and nodded, shivering as his hands gripped the soft flesh of my ass, pulling me closer. My hips rolled against him, and he was already hard, thick and heavy against my stomach.
"Let me see," he said, leaning back, eyes dark and hungry.
I hitched my skirt up around my waist, exposing the thin scrap of pink stretched over my hips. Aaron sucked in a breath, fingers tracing the edge of the fabric.
"I like these," he murmured appreciatively. "You did this for me?"
I nodded, reaching for his belt, the leather cool and smooth against my fingers. I tugged it loose, then undid the button on his pants, his zipper rasping as I pulled it down.
Aaron's cock sprang free, thick and flushed and already leaking at the circumcised tip. I licked my lips, feeling a fresh wave of heat pool low in my belly. I dropped to my knees, the cold tile pressing into my skin as I wrapped my hand around the base of him, squeezing just enough to make him groan.
"Shh," I said, smirking up at him as I stroked him slowly. "You don't want someone to hear us, do you?"
Aaron bit his lip, his head falling back against the tiled wall as I leaned forward, my tongue sliding over the head of his cock, salty and hot against my tongue. I sucked him in deep, my mouth stretching around him as his hands threaded through my box braids, his breath coming faster now, harder.
