Page 26
Story: Tempted By the Devil
Now that we’ve discussed it, I notice even more places boarding up. One elderly woman casts us a stern look before she swings a hammer at the wooden board she’s using to cover her shop window.
“Ignore her,” Jayla says. “There’re racists all over the world. They’re just jealous we’re Black, beautiful, and living it up.”
Though the woman’s look was definitely rude, I’m not sure racism is to be blamed in this case. It seems something else is going on around the village that we’re not privy to.
“So he asked you out for dinner tonight?” Jayla asks.
“Just the two of us. But I can ask him if you?—”
“No need. I think I need a night in anyway. Adagio wore me out, sissy. His dick? Huge!”
We’re still laughing and chitchatting when we return to Faro’s modest little sedan. He smiles toothily at us from the rearview mirror.
“Faro, what’s up around town?” I ask.
“What around town?”
“All the shops being boarded up.”
“Oh, no need to worry,” he says with what can only be a nervous laugh. “That has nothing to do with you girls. Did you enjoy yourselves?”
Jayla and I glance at each other. We’re dropped off at the loft no less than five minutes later.
With still half the day to go before my date with Rafael, I decide on a nap. Jayla wasn’t the only one who was worn out after last night. My period cramps make the situation worse as I draw the curtains to my bedroom and then crawl into bed.
It’s half past five when I wake up with a giant yawn. Still plenty of time to get ready for my date.
For tonight, I decide on a strappy floral crop top and matching wrap skirt. The look’s easy, breezy, and comfortable enough that it doesn’t feel like torture or like my uterus is being squeezed. I pull my hair back in a low bun and let my bangs frame my face, a few longer tendrils hanging free.
“Sissy, you are on fire!” Jayla gasps when she sees me. “You and Rafael might not make it to dinner.”
She’s joking, yet the thought makes me flush.
I wait in the living room area and think some more about last night. We’d had such natural bed chemistry. It felt so easy being with him. I wasn’t in my head like I usually am with men. Even with Lincoln I was usually trapped in my head, wondering about how I looked, or if I was any good.
Any obstacle Rafael and I had encountered, like his size, we’d worked through.
The man wasn’t turned off by the fact that I accidentally soaked his sheets inperiod blood.
He just might be more than a one-time fling. He just might be a keeper.
Seven o’ clock comes and goes.
I step out onto the balcony to make sure the car hasn’t arrived without me realizing it. But unlike the last two nights, no town car waits down below right on time.
Minutes tick by until the clock reads as seven thirty.
Jayla frowns and asks if he meant eight o’ clock instead.
“Maybe,” I mumble under my breath.
But a sinking feeling tells me that’s not what’s happening. The sinking feeling that can only be dread tells me that something has changed in the last few hours.
The number he gave me goes straight to voice mail.
It’s minutes after eight as I leave him a message, asking if he can call me back. Half past eight, I leave another message, telling him I would’ve liked to be considered if his plans changed.
“If you were no longer interested, I wish you would’ve just told me,” I say, my throat aching. “I’ve gotten dressed up and I’ve been waiting…”
“Ignore her,” Jayla says. “There’re racists all over the world. They’re just jealous we’re Black, beautiful, and living it up.”
Though the woman’s look was definitely rude, I’m not sure racism is to be blamed in this case. It seems something else is going on around the village that we’re not privy to.
“So he asked you out for dinner tonight?” Jayla asks.
“Just the two of us. But I can ask him if you?—”
“No need. I think I need a night in anyway. Adagio wore me out, sissy. His dick? Huge!”
We’re still laughing and chitchatting when we return to Faro’s modest little sedan. He smiles toothily at us from the rearview mirror.
“Faro, what’s up around town?” I ask.
“What around town?”
“All the shops being boarded up.”
“Oh, no need to worry,” he says with what can only be a nervous laugh. “That has nothing to do with you girls. Did you enjoy yourselves?”
Jayla and I glance at each other. We’re dropped off at the loft no less than five minutes later.
With still half the day to go before my date with Rafael, I decide on a nap. Jayla wasn’t the only one who was worn out after last night. My period cramps make the situation worse as I draw the curtains to my bedroom and then crawl into bed.
It’s half past five when I wake up with a giant yawn. Still plenty of time to get ready for my date.
For tonight, I decide on a strappy floral crop top and matching wrap skirt. The look’s easy, breezy, and comfortable enough that it doesn’t feel like torture or like my uterus is being squeezed. I pull my hair back in a low bun and let my bangs frame my face, a few longer tendrils hanging free.
“Sissy, you are on fire!” Jayla gasps when she sees me. “You and Rafael might not make it to dinner.”
She’s joking, yet the thought makes me flush.
I wait in the living room area and think some more about last night. We’d had such natural bed chemistry. It felt so easy being with him. I wasn’t in my head like I usually am with men. Even with Lincoln I was usually trapped in my head, wondering about how I looked, or if I was any good.
Any obstacle Rafael and I had encountered, like his size, we’d worked through.
The man wasn’t turned off by the fact that I accidentally soaked his sheets inperiod blood.
He just might be more than a one-time fling. He just might be a keeper.
Seven o’ clock comes and goes.
I step out onto the balcony to make sure the car hasn’t arrived without me realizing it. But unlike the last two nights, no town car waits down below right on time.
Minutes tick by until the clock reads as seven thirty.
Jayla frowns and asks if he meant eight o’ clock instead.
“Maybe,” I mumble under my breath.
But a sinking feeling tells me that’s not what’s happening. The sinking feeling that can only be dread tells me that something has changed in the last few hours.
The number he gave me goes straight to voice mail.
It’s minutes after eight as I leave him a message, asking if he can call me back. Half past eight, I leave another message, telling him I would’ve liked to be considered if his plans changed.
“If you were no longer interested, I wish you would’ve just told me,” I say, my throat aching. “I’ve gotten dressed up and I’ve been waiting…”
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