Isis blushed, then continued. “So I strutted into his living room, all slow and sexy, hips swaying, saying something slick like, ‘You ready for dessert?’”
We were hanging on every word.
Isis hesitated, then covered her face for dramatic effect. “Y’all… I turned around to be extra and bent over all seductive-like. As soon as I did… I let out theloudestfart known to mankind!”
We lost it.
“Yoooooo!” I laughed.
“Isis!” Chesteria slapped her thigh.
“Wait, wait, wait! Was it silent… or was it one of themcheeks-applauding, standing ovationtypes?” Adrian asked.
Isis groaned, burying her face in a velvet throw pillow. “Oh, it hadpresence. I’m talkin’ trombone in a sold-out symphony hall—deep, dramatic, rich in tone, and absolutely uninvited. There was no denying it. I was stuck bent over, couture in the air, and cheeks on display… just me and my personal scandal.” She peeked up, mortified. “That man looked at me and said, ‘Damn… did something come out behind that?’ I swear my spirit tried to exit stage left. I was ready to gather my crystals, my dignity, and disappear into the night like a disgraced socialite.”
Adrian was still clowning. “So what happened after that? Don’t tell me you left.”
“Nope! At least not right then.”
Chesteria squinted. “Wait… you stayed?”
“Yup. Because guess what? That man had theaudacityto respond… byfarting back!” Isis clutched her invisible pearls like her spirit had been violated. “Like…eww!Mine was a moment of human vulnerability. His? That was acalculated bassline.” She shook her head, appalled. “And it wasn’t even discreet. No, he hit me with one of those ridiculous, deep-bellied‘BBBRRRRTT!’slike we were performing some sort ofgastrointestinal duet.Then he had the nerve to say,‘Now we’re even.”Even? Sir, this isn’t a jazz battle! This is my reputation! I was wearing Chanel No. 5 and shame!”
Chesteria chuckled. “So did y’all still have sex… even aftery’all orchestrated a fart symphony?!”
Isis shrugged, shamelessly. “Uh… yeah, girl! I didn’t steam my cat, bedazzle my titties, and shave my legs in the opposite direction just to go home empty-handed! Do you know how many layers of setting spray I used? How long I sat on that cold marble floor in heels, practicing my 'walk like you got secrets' pose? I damn near dislocated a hip stretching for that slow bend-over moment. So yes, ma’am,somethinghad to come outta all that effort…besides air.”
Chesteria tugged the blanket over her lap and side-eyed the group. “Alright, my turn. Bryce, you already know about this one.”
“You talkin’ about the Zoom, right?”
Chesteria tried to hide her face behind the blanket. “Yes!”
Grinning, I gave a knowing nod.
“Isis and Adrian don’t judge,” she practically begged.
Adrian raised a brow. “Now you know damn well thatisgonna happen.”
“Right! Ready to judge and laugh!” Isis added. “Come on with it!”
Chesteria groaned. “Ugh, I hate y’all! Okay, so it was peak COVID, right? I’m teaching a virtual college course—Intro to Human Behavior and Trauma Processing—real serious stuff. But since we were on a quick break between lectures, I figured I’ll knock out a few midterms while I had the time. I had trap musicblastingin my AirPods… like, full-on, bass-thumping, ‘pop that’ type ignorance—therapeutic! Anyway, I was already three cups of coffee deep. So I’m in my zone, vibing, twerking in my chair a little. I get up to stretch, thinking my camera’s off.Y’all…” she shook her head, “…I was in that lil box at the top,Milly Rockin’on every Zoom block.”
The roomeruptedin laughter.
“No, for real! I’m talkin’ full Meg knees, two-hand coordination, a little pelvic action—the whole nine.”
Adrian wheezed. “Not you throwing it back duringoffice hours!”
“She even yelled at her cat mid-twerk,” I egged on.
Chesteria playfully tossed a pillow at me. “Now you know Oreo is a sensitive topic.”
I held a hand to my chest, mock solemn. “My bad. I forgot. Rest in peace, Oreo.”
I was there for Chesteria when her cat died. I held her hand, bought flowers, even nodded along while she cried, talkin’ bout, “he was like a child to me.” But if we keepin’ it a buck? I was happy as hell—shit,relieved—when he died. That cat had it out for me from day one. I ain’t never liked cats, anyway, so the feelings were mutual. But Oreo? That lil’ demon would post up in the hallway like he ran security. It used to look me in the eye and knock my keys off the table like, “You still here?” Me and him stayed in a silent beef, like two bitter uncles who lent each other money in ‘98 and never spoke again. He’d hiss, and I’d hiss back. The whole house sounded like a busted radiator. Chesteria always tried to defend him by saying, “he’s just territorial.” Nah. He was a devil in white fur, and I wasthis closeto baptizing his lil’ ass in holy water. The day of his ‘funeral, Chesteria set up this sweet lil’ corner in the living room with candles, his collar in a shadow box, and a photo like he was a damn war hero. I lit one of them candles and whispered, “Rest easy, opp.”
“You ain’t right. But yup, I told Oreo he better get out of the way before he got stepped on! That’s how I knew I was too deep into the moment. Then suddenly I heard, ‘Um… Professor Hollis, I think you’re unmuted.’”
