Check out my earlier adventures with Sun.
Sun texted me out of the blue.
I knew what she wanted and knew from the instant flood of blood away from my brain that it was what I wanted too. Angry at my lack of control in the face of my New Years Resolution, I drove from my white suburban hide-away to back to one of Boston’s “black” neighborhoods.
This time the street was empty as I approached her house. Three story apartment complexes crouched together to form a wind tunnel and the cold breeze bit into my skin.
The front door lock was busted so she told me to come on up, light turning on with my step.
Sun was a hot mess at the door: 2 inch army-style stilettos, curve hugging jeans barely maintained by her belt which hung sloppily over and her belly hanging out of her tight camouflage shirt. She gave me a look that was barely a smile and waved me in.
Seriously? She couldn’t even fix herself up a little bit knowing I was coming? And why was she dressed for the club if she asked me over hours ago?
Her friend was there: thick, brown skinned with a black weave. She was dressed for the club too.
“Man fuck all that standing in line.” She complained bitterly about not getting into the club.
Sun nodded and rolled a blunt. We passed it as they dished about the night and their mutual acquaintances. I despaired of getting any quality time alone with Sun and low-key hated myself for wanting her so bad, but even dressed sloppy ghetto her body shined: her ass cleavage was hypnotic, as was the curve of her breasts as she sucked in the pungent smoke.
I felt powerless in the face of my desire. Wanting her more than anything but fearing she would dismiss me, afraid to ask. My tongue tied from speaking by the presence of her friend and Sun’s closeted status.
And then her friend left.
To be continued…
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