It’s been two hours since I hung up with Axel, and I’m still aroused. Within thirty minutes of talking to him, my reaction to his request has whittled down from a “that’s crazy” to a “maybe”. Now, sitting in the parking lot after being completely violated by my gynecologist, the, “maybe” turned into “why not”. I cannot trust my hormones, I must seek counsel. I pull up my bestie group text.
Me: Yo! Axel found me last night on Facebook.
Keri: That’s great!
Latoya: Hell yeah, we’re back in this piece! What did he say?
Me: He asked for my contact information. I threatened to block him because I didn’t recognize his Facebook name. Then he sent me a picture of my panties??????,Then, I asked how I can know if it’s really him. He video chatted me—naked…*fainting GIF*
Keri:??
Latoya:????
Me: I know! But that’s not the crazy part. He called me this morning. He wants me to drop everything and fly to California. He said ‘he needs me.’
Keri: ?
Latoya: For what?
Me: I got the impression he needs my help with something. He said he’ll talk to me about it when I get there.
Latoya: Riiiight!??What did he say exactly?
Me: And I quote, ‘I have something to talk to you about when you get here. I want you to get your sexy ass on a plane, so I can fuck you senseless and spoil you rotten. Is that too much to ask?’ End quote.
Keri: Sheesh, I just fanned myself.
Latoya: Oh, bitch, I’m on the way to help you pack.
Me: Lol. Aren’t you at work?
Latoya: Not anymore, be there in 20.
I return home to find a very determined, platinum blonde, Latoya leaning on my front door with a suitcase. I smile to myself, if you ever want a friend that will commit 100% to your dreams and aspirations, Latoya is the friend to have. Even if it’s something as simple as finding the courage to get on a plane to meet up with a super sexy surfer. Keri is supportive as well, but her motto is: ‘Assess the risk first.’ Latoya prefers to jump in and learn from it.
“Chop, chop. I booked your flight. You gotta be there in an hour. You leave at 1:20 PM central, and you will land 2:46 PM Pacific. You owe me four-hundred dollars; I accept Zelle. Thanks!”
My eyes grow with each syllable. “Latoya! You can’t be serious. I was considering—”
“No time for that,” she dismisses as she swipes my keys out of my hand and opens my door. “You have been sex starved for six weeks. It’s like you had a baby or something. Plus,ALLyou have talked about was this man. GO GET HIM!”
Latoya navigates through my hallways with the ease of someone who’s been there a million times. Imma pack while you shower.” She tosses the suitcase on my bed and opens my underwear drawer. “And for the love of all things sexual, put on something easy access, ‘cause y’all gonna jump each other immediately.”
I wander into the bathroom in a trance. I’m really doing this. I’m really going to run to Axel just because he asked. I wait for the shame of being thirsty to hit me. It doesn’t. I feel terrified and aroused, but nothing else. I hope he’s the same guy I met in Hawaii. I take a quick, but thorough shower. I’d taken one this morning, but Houston’s thermostat is always set to hell in the summer. I leave my hair wrapped and tied—I will brush it out at the airport.
I emerge fifteen minutes later freshly showered with my essentials in my toiletry bag. I’m shocked to see Keri, Little Miss Perfect Attendance, assisting Latoya.
“Seriously, Keri? You too?”
Keri shrugs. “I mean, Latoya already purchased the ticket, and no matter how much I hate using sick time, I wasn’t going to miss this.” She says while neatly folding a sundress. “Be happy I showed up. Latoya only had lacy undergarments and bikinis in your suitcase. I added actual clothes and shoes.”
“Thank yo—” I begin before a sundress lands on my face.
“Put that on with those shoes and let’s bounce,” Latoya commands. “You lotioned up in the bathroom, right?”
“Of course.” I pull the sundress over my head.
It’s one of my favorites. It’s a simple maxi dress that makes me look sexy. I got it online from Lulus; they call it ‘Days of Sunlight,’ and there is no shortage of sunlight in Houston. The gauzy, ivory spaghetti strap dress cuts into a deep V. My boobs are covered in navy blue embroidery. The off the mock waist of the dress flows into a maxi skirt that stops just below my ankles. I bend so Latoya can tie the strings at the top of my shoulders and ensure that they aren’t twisted. I slip into my strappy navy sandals, and I’m ready to go.
