Val let out a long, languid yawn. Her deep, amber eyes opened easily as the light from the sun-drenched, brisk February morning cascaded across the cream-colored walls of her bedroom. For the first time in months, she felt rested. With a satisfying stretch and yawn, she reached over to her phone to see a text from Patrick.
"Hello beautiful! Flying into SF. I miss your face. Love you, call you when I land."
A wide grin spread across her face. Even after almost three years, his words still made her warm and giddy. She shot him a text back and rolled deeper into the covers turning herself into a comfy plush burrito. She might've gotten some great sleep, but she wasn't ready to get out of bed just yet.
Work had been taking its toll on her. Plus, she was beginning to build her own meager business working with clients who'd been rejected by her job. Was it unethical to be poaching from the vast reject pile that her own company dismissed without a second thought to build her own foundation? Sure. Did she particularly care at this point? Not really. Besides, it wasn't costing them anything, considering they were making millions of dollars on the writers they were currently representing. On top of that, she'd done the pitch for her boss on these writers, and her boss was clear on the disinterest. Val was determined to not only capitalize off their white gaze, but hopefully make a few strong connections before anyone found themselves nose deep in her business. Even with all that, she was happy to work there, learn all she could, and help others in the process of making a real name for herself.
Before she could get settled in, a long, whiney growl erupted from her stomach pulling her from her peaceful rest.
The reality of being hungry and knowing that once she got up, she would have to start cleaning was enough to steal anyone's joy. Her brow furrowed at the thought of having to move and actually start the day.
She then thought about Patrick and the fact that he would be back home that night. The idea of him coming in and seeing the state of downstairs was enough for her to kick the covers off in a grunt filled tantrum. Taking in her appearance in the dresser mirror, she couldn't help but chuckle at the sight. Her dark, auburn curls looked like a wild nest all over her head, her oversized shirt, which she'd commandeered from Patrick, had a stain on it from an unfortunate orange chicken incident last night, and there was a pimple reaching puberty on her forehead.
She was a happy, rested mess.
With heavy steps, she descended down to the pigpen she'd nested in for the past week. There wasn't much to clean in the way of the kitchen, but the garbage was overflowing with all her takeout, and the living room looked as though a tornado had touched down right in the middle of the loft. With the discarded clothes left around the bathroom from each shower she took, and the overall layer of dirt form habitual use of the common spaces, Val had done her best to let herself go.
Patrick was generally the tidier one of the two of them as he kept most of the common areas clean. Val kept up plenty herself, she simply hated having to do any sort of housework. It was a redundant waste of time, and unlike her model photographing partner, she worked much longer hours way more consistently. The last thing she wanted to do was come home and wash dishes. When she lived alone, she hired a cleaning service, but once she moved in to his place, Patrick promised that they wouldn't need one.
But he hadn't been there.
For a split second, she considered hiring a service but rolled her eyes. It wasn't anything she couldn't handle, but there was something about having the place to herself. She could do what she wanted, and she did.
It was already 10 am, and Patrick would be home in around 8 hours. Valerie bit her bottom lip trying to decide if she was going to start cleaning or eat first. Another impatient growl came from her stomach.
"Okay, brush my fangs, eat, then clean!" she announced out loud to her stomach.
Another benefit of being home alone besides tossing her things wherever she wanted, she could have an open conversation with herself, and no one looked at her like she was crazy.
Valerie ambled over to the kitchen glancing at the empty food containers from before.
"Actually, I'll
order
something to eat,
then
clean." she muttered as though it were some genius plan she'd come up with.
Val rushed back upstairs nearly tripping to grab her phone. Giving the floating stairs a quick side eye, she finished the stairs to the top of the platform and quickly pulled up her favorite breakfast spot. Beginning her day with anything from Cupping Room Café would guarantee it was going to go smoothly, and the night would be perfect, because Patrick would be back.
She finished with her order and put her phone down on the kitchen table. There were two things outside of work that made Val this giddy. Food and sex. She would be getting plenty of both today.
Val smirked to herself thinking about Patrick's return. The payoff of welcome home sex was enough to remove the funk she was in from having to cleaning up her own mess.
*****
His hands roamed up and down her body like cascading water. His lips kissed down her stomach. Soft, sensual kisses that set her skin on fire. Erica looked down to see the red marks his lips left behind. Imprinted on her skin like a tattoo. The moment his tongue reached out and licked up her perfect dark lips, dipping into her wet center, the first surge hit her. The pleasure was so intense, it felt like someone had taken a vibrator to her entire body.
*Ring*
Erica's eyes shot open. He was now deep inside of her, filling her completely. She could feel him everywhere, from the tip of her toes, the tips of her hair. His gorgeous, onyx colored skin seemed to move across his body like liquid, but the moment she touched him, she felt his rock solid muscles underneath. His moves brought her entire body to heights she'd never before experienced. She could feel the next surge coming with every thrust of his hips.
Close... closer... almost there...
*Ring*
Erica tossed and turned in her bed trying to ignore the real-life telephone that was invading her dreams making Idris Elba seem further and further away. After the third ring, he was long gone. She opened one eye toward the loud intrusion sitting on her nightstand.
'On everything I love, I hope your privates are attacked by fire ants and dipped in gasoline...' she thought to herself reaching one long limb over and picking up her cell.
"This better be important." she grumbled into the phone.
"He bought a ring!"
Erica looked at her phone to see that it was Val. She also took in the fact that it was 8am, on her only day off in the past two and a half weeks.
"I was getting it in good with Idris. It was about to be the best orgasm I'd had in months."
"A ring, Erica!"
"Months, Val. And I had at least another hour or so of sleep to go. The things he could've done to my body... oh! I wish it was real." she breathed out with a long stretch.
"Erica, he bought a ring! What am I supposed to do with that?"
"Be thankful?" she quipped rolling over and away from the early morning light peering in through her blinds.
"This is serious Erica. He has a RING!!"
"Yes, yes, we've established there's a ring. And?"
"I mean, I was just cleaning, and, you know I hate cleaning. I was in the living room. I was cleaning in between the couch cushions, and there it was! I mean, who puts a ring in between the couch cushions?"
"Apparently your boyfriend does." Erica yawned.
"I just wanted to clean, have him come home, we have dinner, great welcome home sex..."
"Wait. Why were you cleaning in between the couch cushions?"
Val shook her head unsure of what that had to do with anything.
"I ate on the couch all week. Who cares?"
"I'm just sayin', seems like you were looking for something." Erica yawned out.
"No! I was not. I just, I had Chinese the other night. I was sure I spilled some rice somewhere... Look, it doesn't matter. What am I supposed to do when he comes home?"
"What are you trying to ask me?" Erica asked, already over this conversation.
"I mean, we have to talk about this, right?"
It took her a moment to register what Val had said, but once she did, Erica sat up. "Val, what are you talkin' about?"
"It's clear he was thinking about proposing. Shouldn't we talk about it?"
"Hell no! Where on earth would you get a dumb ass idea like that?"
"No, I just-"
"You just what!? You can't control everything! I mean, damn. Let the man have his proposal!"
"I'm not trying to take his proposal. Why are you yelling at me?"
"Cause you make me want to slap you sometimes." Erica grumbled. She jumped out of her bed and began walking towards her kitchen clad in only a navy-blue tank top, and a black thong.
The spacious, bright, one story apartment was rife with rich earth tones and art from artists back home in Minneapolis such as Daisy Giles-U'u. Cozy, comfortable, and stylish, it was her haven for relaxing after long hours spent trying to help what the world deemed as discarded and disenfranchised youth.
