Alijah’s eyes are focused on the page he's coloring as he switches pencils, giving me the image of the rapt attention a tattoo artist would have. His tongue peeks from his mouth as his eyes pinch in concentration like he was the designer of the artistic design on the man’s arms. From the many designs on Alijah’s body, I can see that he’s very passionate about what artists do. It’s cute and swoon worthy. Alijah’s legs are spread wide as my smaller frame fits inside his circumference.
“You realize that tattoo isn’t real, right?” I giggle as Alijah peels his gaze from the paper, and a smirk slides into place, which makes my giggles grow.
“For a minute, I saw myself with a second job.”
I shake my head as Alijah chuckles before he returns his focus to his sheet. Silence enters the room as I resume my coloring session. Coloring with my man is a flex nobody told me to look forward to. But baby, I need more days like this.
“So now that you know how great this can be, will this be our thing to do together?”
Alijah chuckles as he continues to color before he speaks.
“I grant you one session and now you think this should become routine. What will I get out of it if I agree?”
Now it’s my turn to laugh, as my mind spins with salacious thoughts and all the ways I can bring Alijah pleasure. An image of us in the throes of dual pleasure, in the sixty-nine position enters my mind. The sweat that glistens on our bodies, even in my imagination, causes heat and a tremor in my body.
“Mm-hmm. Tell me something good, mama.”
I blink as my eyes meet Alijah’s direct stare, and the lustful gleam in his eyes darkens them. Need, desire, and a tinge of love cause them to sparkle as my body simmers like slow-boiling water.
“I can promise that your agreement will result in hours of pleasure that neither of us will easily recover from.” My voice is low and sultry as I stare intently at Alijah.
His tongue snakes out of his mouth slowly and causes my pussy to purr. Before Alijah can respond, a phone rings and instantly shifts the energy in the room.
“Damn,” Alijah says before he picks up his phone and swipes to connect the call. “Hello.”
With his heavy gaze on me, Alijah puts the call on speaker as a woman’s voice sounds through the speaker.
“Well, hello to you too, stranger.”
“Don’t be dramatic, Ma. We talked recently.”
Grunts and groans sound from the other end, and I cover my mouth to hide my humor because Alijah’s mom must have objections to his claim.
“You know, I’m gonna pray and ask the good Lord to give you the same headaches that you’ve given me when you have kids. I didn’t know that when you became a parent it meant your kids treat you like a second-class citizen. They grow up, skip cities, and forget all about their dear old mothers. My Lord.”
Alijah looks at me and shakes his head before he responds to his mother.
“I’m sorry, Ma. I’m a horrible son, and I’m gonna ask God for two lashings as repayment for my neglect.” He smirks.
Laughter from someone in the background makes my eyes pinch and my forehead wrinkle. My suspense isn’t long as a deep, older, yet eerily similar voice speaks.
“Son, you know how your mother is. How’s it going?”
“What’s good, Pops? Everything is straight.”
“Glad to hear it.”
Wow! I wonder how much Alijah looks like his dad because they sound so much alike.
“Before your mom gets in her feelings, there is a purpose for this call.”
I’ve stopped coloring and am completely tuned into this conversation like I know Alijah’s parents and have some kind of vested interest in the reason for this call. But I’m too nosy to get up and leave or mind my business enough to keep coloring.
“Oh yeah? Y’all cool? Everybody well? Doing okay? Tell me something good, Pops.” Alijah’s voice is heightened with concern that causes me to lightly bite my bottom lip in suspense.
“Of course. But there’s a family cookout this weekend, and your mother won’t hear of you not being here. You also aren’tfar enough to claim that as an excuse, so I’m expecting you to be here.”
For some reason, that information makes me revert to what I was doing before. No one is dying, sick, or has any drama, so I can go back to minding my business. I pick up my color pencil and focus on staying within the lines as I work on the woman’s pants.
