from www.LoveBelvin.com where you get updates first.
Excerpt of L.I.T….
~A little over an hour later, at the large kitchen nook that fit at least ten, where we all piled in with lingering banter, the official meeting was over, but no one immediately left. I wondered where Candice was. She’d texted me when I was on the West Coast, but ended the conversation once I told her where I was. All these days I wondered if that was a call for help. I figured I’d stick around for a while to see if I ran into her.
What I hadn’t counted on was the topic of conversation amongst my younger colleagues. I could tell when Jamie took over as host that things would turn inappropriate before long. Well, that inkling was long ago.
“If you could describe sex with your ex using a song, what would it be?” Jamie asked with mischief in his naturally slanted eyes. “Mine would be Boyz II Men’s “It’s So Hard to Say Goodbye to Yesterday.””
“That’s creepy! Why that song?” Bridgette asked aghast.
Jamie turned to her with a smirk playing at one corner of his lips and retorted, “Because I cheated on her with my ex before her. I couldn’t say goodbye to that old snatch.”
The table went up in a roar—well, everyone with the exception of Jackson and me. I stifled my laughter, refusing to fuel his foolishness.
“Mine would be “Love Song” by Sara Bareillis. He was such a jerk, and my family wanted us to fall in love, get married and have babies. He didn’t want me, he only wanted the image of perfection as he pursued his political career. I was young, only nineteen years old. He couldn’t even fuck. I would’ve worked with him, if he hadn’t lacked that one crucial quality. He told me I was slightly overweight. I eventually told him to fuck off. After the first time we fucked, he asked me to write him a letter to describe it.” Bridgette flipped the bird in the wake of his memory.
Because I sat next to Bridgette, all eyes went to me. I felt my tongue go heavy. There was no way I could ask for a waiver. Up until this moment, everyone else had shared personal factoids and I’d be considered rude if I didn’t answer this one stupid question of this ridiculously childish game Jamie started.
“Springsteen’s “Sad Eyes”,” I murmured, surprising myself with my honest disclosure.
I felt Jackson’s eyes burning into the side of my face. I fought for my apathetic mask, then turned to him and widened my eyes. He sat in the same position, with his shoulder against the wall and his hand cupping his chin. Only this time, his penetrative eyes were on me.
“What? Your turn, chief,” I goaded.
Jackson’s eyes narrowed as if he was messaging that he didn’t appreciate my audacity. I wouldn’t break my gaze on him. If I had to participate in the asinine game, so did he. It seemed like an eternity passed before he spoke as he sat upright in his chair and took a deep breath, a lungful exhale that appealed to me, ridiculously.
““Piece of My Love”…Guy,” Jackson uttered before his lips twitched up into a smirk, one that was suave, practiced—well beyond his twenty-six years.
I would hear the song on WBLS and Kiss FM before the station went defunct. The group, Guy, was a part of the New Jack Swing Era. That style of music was invented even before my prime, leaving me to wonder how it was that Jackson was familiar with it. Aside from the complexion of his dark spirit, Jackson had such an old soul.
Jamie cranked out the first two bars from the popular ‘90s tune, causing the table to break out in laughter. Marie chose Tina Turner’s “A Woman in a Man’s World,” a melancholy and archaic selection. Brad and Tim gave tracks from Tim McGraw and Pearl Jam, respectively.
The conversation grew more personal, specifically more sexual. We found ourselves on the topic of orgasms. Bridgette, who’s in a committed relationship, shared how she was madly in love with her fiancé of thirteen months, but despite their deep feelings for each other and shared passion, she’d been unable to achieve an orgasm.
At the mention of that, I took to the bar in the formal living room for a refill on wine. That topic was way too intense considering I was in the presence of the man who supplied several just a few weeks ago, something that was a rare occurrence for me. Like…extremely exceptional. I took my time, hoping to wait out the time until the conversation switched topics. Unfortunately, I miscalculated the time.
“According to some studies, only thirty-five percent of the female population will orgasm during penetration alone. Even more alarming, fifteen percent never orgasm at all!” Bridgette exclaimed.
“Wow,” Jamie breathed out with heavy eyes, clearly fighting intoxication. “That’s fucked up.”
“I had a girl that I tried all types of shit on…even went down on her for nearly thirty minutes. She screamed her head off, but never came. Then I had one, an older woman whose tits I sucked for minutes and she came out of her shoes. This explains it,” Tim murmured his revelation.
“Well, some studies report one out of three women orgasm regularly, and seventy-five percent of all women never reach one from penetration alone. They need other stimulation, like toys, hands or tongue,” Bridgette continued with her report-like statistics.
“That would be me. I’ve never…errrm…” Marie swiped her neck, expressing modesty. “…orgasmed from just penetration.” Her eyes circled nervously, and I knew it was because a recent lover was sitting at this very table, participating in this conversation, unbeknownst to most. “Some guys I’ve been with are cool with toys. They work for me…in addition to…errrm…hands and tongue.”
“So,” Brad piped out. “If the stat is one in three, then we have one unsuccessful party,” he pointed to Bridgette. “…two unsuccessful party,” he pointed to Marie. Then his index finger made its way to me. Fuck no! “…and three…is the charm?” A smile curved on his lips.
I turned to see all eyes on me again. My better judgment told me not to look over to Jackson, but my brain and body coordination was limited due to the excessive alcohol intake. And damn it if when I did, my clitoris pulsated the moment my eyes landed on him. Jackson knew I’d had three orgasms that night at the hotel with him. He knew this because I was so vocal; so vocal that it propelled one of his that night. I tried to turn from Jackson’s gaze. His usual ember eyes were dark, when he rolled and popped his neck. Did anyone else see that?
I sighed, “Ladies, I’m not a regular either. I’m a hardly.”
“Ah!” Bridgette slapped the table, excitedly, but not in a happy manner; in a frustrated one instead.
“So, how recent was your last? Let’s make this all sensible,” Tim pushed.
“Ummm…not too long ago,” I answered, regrettably.
I knew Jackson was getting his rocks off, but something in me didn’t mind sharing with this group. This wasn’t voyeurism. It was simple information sharing and education. But why was I feeling so goddamned aroused?
“Wait…how many times before this last encounter?” Bridgette asked.
Fuckity-fuck! This is spinning way out of control now!
This time I didn’t look Jackson’s way. I couldn’t. There was too much heat coming from that direction. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. I had to decide how I would handle this question. Honesty would give power to said lover, who had clearly expressed the desire to enter into a romping agreement. This agreement would have to be kept from the very people sitting at this table. But their inquisition was so harmless. This was my team. They were so happy for my acquiring the Erika Erceg account.
“Once…years ago…many moons ago,” I damn near whispered. “Like junior high with a twenty-something-year-old college teaching assistant, who was assigned to the community college in my area, and was very passionate about life, and that included fucking.”
“Damn,” Jamie chimed in. “Either that dude had great fucking skills or—”
“You two had extraordinary chemistry.” That was supplied by Jackson.
When my eyes traveled over to him, he was leaving the table with his glass in hand.~
“Love’s Inconvenient Truth” coming April 1st!