“It’s fine,” Tyler grumbled, not in the mood for his mediocre head. “I’m about to take a shower.”
“Aight, I’m about to take a quick nap. That nut got a nigga weak in the knees. Wake me up in an hour.”
“Uh-huh,” she uttered, a little salty she couldn’t experience what he was feeling.
Before Tyler ever had sex, she read about it. While cleaning her aunt’s basement, she stumbled upon a box full of black erotica magazines. They weren’t anything like the Playboys the mannish boys in her class hid in their backpacks and shared at lunch. No, these were magazines filled with sensual stories about lonely housewives falling for the mailman and fucking him in the back of his truck on people’s checks or the desperate college professor bending the teacher's aide over the desk while making her beg for extra credit. Tyler’s fifteen-year-old eyes had no business reading those stories, but once she started, she couldn’t stop. She longed to feel what the women in the stories experienced, what the girls at her high school raved about.
The first time Tyler and Dex had sex, she thought maybe it was a one-off. That maybe they were doing it wrong, but since Dex seemed so experienced, Tyler kept her thoughts to herself. She’d lay there and pretend to enjoy it as much as he appeared to. Like the women in the magazines, Tyler rolled her hips, moaned about how good he was fucking her, and when Dex said that he was cumming, she did too, even if she wasn’t.
Sexually frustrated wasn’t even the word to express how Tyler felt, and it wasn’t Dex's fault.Anorgasmia.A stupid ass sexual disorder that prevented her from fully releasing. Did she enjoy sex? Yes, but she had a hard time crossing the finish line. No matter how much Dex tugged at her clitoris and stroked her insides, Tyler couldn’t quite reach the pleasure everyone raved about. Most of the time, it took vibrating toys and gas station sex pills to help her climax. Doctors claimed the disorder was caused by stress, mental blocks, lack of sexual communication,and the one that irritated Tyler the most... antidepressants. They prescribed her the shit to fix something she didn’t know was broken, yet it caused more problems.
Snapping out of her daze, Tyler removed her bone straight Brazilian wig and placed it on the mannequin head on her side of the vanity. Since getting her rocks off was now a distant memory, a cold shower would have to suffice.
“Hey Siri, play The Weekend…The Hills,” Tyler called out from under the water.
“Now playing The Weekend, The Hills,” Siri responded, blaring through the bathroom speakers.
“I only love it when you touch me, not feel me. When I’m fucked up that’s the real me.”
???
Logic sat in a folded chair on his stoop, waiting for a breeze to bless his sweaty skin. It was two in the afternoon and all he wanted was a quick gust of wind to sweep through the projects and relieve him of his uncomfortable state. Even with this shirt off, the heat wasn’t letting up. It was humid and sticky, giving Logic the perfect excuse not to work on his rhymes.Writer’s block.A dumb ass term that he found online to describe what he was going through. Read a book they say, watch a movie they advise, but none of that shit was working, and it was frustrating as fuck. Since he could remember, writing came easy as breathing, and because he couldn’t write, Logic was highly irritable.
Peering up the block, Logic watched a UPS truck park on the corner. The driver hopped out, opened the back hatch, andwent inside to find a package. It was obvious he was new to the job because, without shutting the back hatch, he happily stepped off the truck and walked up the long sidewalk. Logic heard the low whistles, and not even ten seconds later, hooded teenagers jumped out from behind apartment buildings and cars. Storming the truck, the teens started stealing packages, while the oblivious driver took a picture of the package he placed on someone's stoop.
“Aye!” he hollered, turning around to see the truck being robbed. “Stop that,” he demanded, tripping over tricycles and scooters, causing onlookers to laugh. “Heeelllpp,” he called out, causing everyone to laugh harder.
“KP bitch,” one of the masked teens taunted, throwing up his set as he hopped off the truck.
Logic smirked. Muthafuckas in the hood were going to eat no matter what. Ripping off a UPS truck in broad daylight wasn’t new. Seasoned workers knew better than to leave their loads exposed. The items that were stolen from the truck were going to be sold to the highest bidder without a second thought.
“Sup, Lo, Sage around?” Joey, one of the neighborhood boys, asked as he approached Logic’s stoop. Logic glanced up at the young boy and unintentionally frowned. He’d never understand how the new age teenagers wore hoodies and jogging pants when the temperature outside was hotter than hell.
“Why?” Logic quizzed.
“I-uh, I wanted to see if he was trying to hoop.”
“Fuck nah. You can’t even lie straight. Stuttering and shit.”
“Because you staring me down like I did something to you.”
“If you weren’t lying you wouldn’t be uncomfortable with a simple question,” Logic scoffed. “Get the fuck on, lil nigga.”
“So he can’t come out?”
“Nah.”
“Man, aight,” Joey sucked his teeth before walking off.
This was the shit that motivated Logic to get out of the hood. He couldn’t afford for his brother to get caught up in the streets. It was one thing for Logic to push the limit, but his brother doing the same was out of the question. All the hoodlums around the project sold weed, pills, and schemed. While he did the same thing, Logic used the money to pay bills, and they did it to stay fresh and impress local hood rats who would turn their backs on them when the next fly nigga looked in their direction. To his knowledge, Sage wasn’t into that kind of shit. He read comic books, was bashful around girls, and enjoyed watching chick flicks with his sisters. Sage didn’t fit in with the boys around him, but that didn’t stop him from playing basketball and sitting on the stoop with them when he was bored.
“Hey Lo.” The soft voice reminded him why he didn’t sit outside often. Everything and everybody distracted him.
“What’s up Shony?” He tossed her a head nod.
“My mama cooked. You want me to bring yall a plate?” she asked, licking her lips.
“Nah, I’m straight, I already cooked. Good lookin’ though.”
