I got out of the cab a little bit past where I needed to, so I decided to take a picture of the Barclay’s center because I didn’t have one on my phone. I walked over around the block toward the Halal stand, and when I got there, there was a line. Which was surprising because it was so fukking late and cold. It normally would have been empty. The first person in line was this girl, I couldn’t see her face but she had such a distinctive voice. I describe it as distinctive because it was sort of mysterious. Unique and one of a kind. A la Fran Drescher or Charlize Theron. She didn’t sound anything like them, but had the type of voice that you don’t come by too often. (Plus, I just finished my joint a few minutes ago and I’m having a hard time finding words to describe it, so bear with me. Anyway, back to the moment) The Halal man didn’t have change and I guess the bill she had was too big. So, me being the hungry young man that I was I went to the front of the line and told him to put our orders together and I’d pay for it. She then turned to me and tried to persuade me that she could just walk and get change, but I told her she could pay me back after I paid for her meal. Even though I had planned on declining it after it was all over. I paid for her Gyro, which had all of the condiments that the stereotypical southern truck driver would die for, and told her not to worry about it.
“What are you doing out so late?” She asked me.
She said it as if she knew me. As if we were friends who just happened to run into each other, as if we were more than two strangers who’s fate was to be hungry at 2:30 AM on a freezing cold Saturday morning in Brooklyn. I love to converse, so I did just that.
“Just crazy hungry, to be honest.” I replied. We kept small talking and walking toward the end of the block. Along the way I started to get a good look at her. She was beautiful. Like, really, really beautiful. My kind of beautiful. She was about 5 foot 7, slim. Not slim as in that she watches what she eats, or that she exercises, but the “eat whatever she wants because she’s still young with a fast metabolism” slim. Which is always attractive to me for whatever reason. She had brown hair, black perfect eye brows, and a dimple just under her lower lip. On the right side. Light brown eyes, and an inviting smile. Simply beautiful.
We walked toward to R train, and I told her to be safe and have a goodnight.
“You’re going home? It’s not even 3 yet.” She said sarcastically. Then smiled and told me that I should go with her to get coffee. “Come with me to Dunkin, and then you can go home, and forget all about me.” She put her head facing to the ground and gave a playful whimper and sniffle. How could I say no to that? I didn’t even have to think about it. I laughed and agreed almost by reflex. The Dunkin Donuts was literally across the street anyway.
When we got inside it was practically empty. With the exception of a homeless person sleeping in the far corner with some plastic bags, and a pushcart. I sat down next to the window and told her what to get me. Only after she asked though. I happen to be extremely independent these days. I don’t like people doing anything for me. I have this strange thing where I feel if I get dependent I’ll get attached. I’ve had so many people leave my life that I almost refuse to get attached to anyone. Or ask anyone for anything. Which is the total opposite of what I once was. It’s weird that that way of thinking applies to something as small as a coffee, but I guess it carries over from more important things.
“Get me a medium caramel latte, 2 sugars.” I told her. She brought it back to the table, and after an awkward silence that lasted all of 20 seconds, she then broke the metaphorical ice.
“Where do you live?”
“Bay Ridge, you?”
“Not too far from here, walking distance. If you live in Bay Ridge, why’d you come all the way down here for chicken and rice?”
“That shyt is mad fukking good that’s why.”
We laughed and spoke about everything from cheesy romance movies, (*cough, cough*, Tyler Perry’s Temptation. fukking horrible man, why did she have to get AIDS and live a life of complete regret and disappointment? Have a heart. shyt) to why she thought Splenda was “the equivalent to fake breast”, to why she had this insatiable urge to leave New York. She kept complimenting me. Telling me I was so tall and cute. That she liked my Pea Coat. All the while I found myself staring at her. Just admiring her and examining her. Everything from the beauty mark near her left nostril, as well as the one above her left eyebrow, to the habit she had of covering her hand with her mouth when she started laughing. Eventually I lost track of time and forgot that I had an obligation to finish the project I was working on. It was about 3 AM. I told her I had to go because I had things to do, but agreed to walk her home because it was late, and well this is Brooklyn. We left the Dunkin Donuts and walked toward the Barclays Center.
“It looks so nice at night time, every time I see it, it feels like the first time, I haven’t got used to it yet.” She said.
“I know I used to go to school round’ here, Acorn Community, up the block. I remember when they were first starting it and the stadium was just a rumor and shyt.”
“Eww. You went to Acorn? Don’t even mention that place. Oh my God, I hate everything about that school.”
We ended up getting into a conversation about the school. Apparently she went there for her freshman year of high school and transferred for her sophomore year back in 2008, the year I started my freshman year there. We walked for a few more blocks and for some reason I didn’t want the night to end. It felt so natural talking to her, I almost forgot that I had just met her about an hour and half ago. We were talking like we’d been friends for years.
“Why you walking so fast? You tryna’ get rid of me? You must got another girl to see or something. I understand. I see how it is. What do you do, you pay for a girls food, let her buy you coffee, give her a cheap conversation, and go on to the next? You think you know a guy!”
“No of course not, I wouldn’t jeopardize our relationship like that. This last 60 minutes have been the best 60 minutes of my life baby.” I said it with a sincere look on my face, like a fukking Valentine’s Day commercial for Kay’s Jewelry.
She started laughing and blushing. We had the same level of sarcasm. Which is something I don’t get with many people. I happen to be sarcastic prick. Eventually we reached her building. I’d never been happier to reach a destination in my life, it was cold. She didn’t have the key so she had to call her friend and her phone was dead, so she asked to use mine. I gave her my phone and she called, she was looking at me and smiling the whole time it was ringing.
“You better not have any other girls in this phone.” She said while she waiting for her friend to answer.
After about two calls her friend threw the key out the window, she must had been sleep. She gave me back my phone and unlocked the door.
“Okay, well um, I’ll see you around I guess.” I said.
“No wait, you need a hat, it’s too cold. Come upstairs.” She then smiled. And I once again, almost by reflex, I just went. We got in the elevator took it to the 4th floor. I didn’t know how to feel. I wasn’t worried, but I just didn’t have her all figured out. We walked to her door and she told me to stay as quiet as possible because her Aunt was sleeping. She went in the room and whispered to make sure she was asleep, and motioned me with her hand toward her room. She arrived shortly after and told me to relax. I took off my coat and she put it on the computer chair, then left the room. She came back in her pajamas and turned on the TV. Low enough so that she wouldn’t wake up her Aunt, but loud enough for her Aunt to think she was up watching TV just in case she woke up. Evil genius for real.
She kissed me hard, and I cupped her ass with my hands. It was so soft and perfect. It didn’t look as big as it was, but inside her pajama pants I could really appreciate it. I made my way to the front with my hands but she told me to hold on.
“Let’s drink first.” I’d never even heard of that. Let’s drink first? I screwed my face so that it read “huh?” but I went along with it. I don’t know why, but I did. I guess I thought, why not just go with the flow? She went into her closet and pulled out a bottle of Bacardi 151. It hadn’t even been opened yet, and we spent the next 5 minutes taking turns tossing it back. She was laughing. “Don’t be a p*ssy, it’s your turn.” She was laughing low, but had she not had to control herself because of the fact that her Aunt was in the other room, she would have been hysterical. She was holding her hand to her mouth every 10 seconds.
“I’m done, for real, I’m done.” I said laughing.
“Not yet.” She put the bottle in the closet and aggressively kissed me and forced me toward the wall. It was like we trading roles for a second. I wasn’t hammered, but I was drunk enough to feel it. We kissed hard for a few minutes, and I stopped and guided her to her knees, by pressing hard on her shoulders. She went down with no resistance. Rapidly unbuttoned my pants, and bit it through my boxer briefs. She took it out as her eyes widened and kissed it from base to tip. “May I?” I nodded, and she proceeded. It was so good. Perfection. My eyes were slightly blurred and my vision delay starting kicking in. I was officially faded. I took off my shirt and put her on her feet. Kissing her, and grabbing her ass tight. I threw her on the bed, and took off her pajamas, exposing her black thong, and then removing it. Exposing the single most powerful thing in the world. After I returned the favor. We had sex. Great sex. We were fukking like we knew each other. fukking like we were familiar with each other, but like strangers at the same time. There was no awkwardness, no feeling out process, just sex. That’s the beauty of drunk sex. No expectations, no let downs, just sex.
After it was over. I put on my clothes, she put on a t-shirt, and called a cab for me, as I was drunk and far too tired to take a bus or the train. As I made my way for the door, she followed close behind. Holding my hand and smiling. We went into the hallway, and I pressed the button to call the elevator. She kept staring at me, smiling, holding her liquor far better than me because I was still pretty fukked up. The elevator came and she came to me with one hand behind her back and kissed me.
“Here.” She revealed her other hand and she was holding a black hat. She laughed. “Be safe.”
“You too.” I smiled, took the hat and opened the elevator door.
I gave her another kiss and left. When I got in the elevator I just raised my eyebrows and thought about what just happened. To be honest, I thought about it the whole way home. I couldn’t help but think there was more to her, that she wasn’t just a quickie. Maybe I was wrong, maybe she was just a quickie. I was thinking that I shouldn’t overthink. Not with a Bacardi mind. When I got home, I kicked off my shoes, threw my coat on the floor, her hat on a chair, and fell straight into couch paradise.
I woke in the early afternoon. I didn’t have a hangover, but I felt like I hadn’t gotten any sleep. I sort of questioned if it ever really happened for a few minutes. Then I walked into the bathroom and saw the marks on my neck, and the scratches behind my shoulder and it confirmed it. After my shower, I reached into my coat and grabbed my phone. No new alerts, no missed calls. I had nothing on my schedule for that Saturday, so I went right back to sleep. I woke up due to that annoying “Alarm” ringer on the iPhone that you almost can’t ignore. (You know that shyt is the worst.) I set it for all of my unknown callers, just so I know whether or not it’s someone important. I didn’t recognize the number but I recognized the voice.
“Hey is this _____?” I immediately knew who it was. I could pick that voice out of a lineup easy even though I hadn’t heard much of it, it was just so different.
Still, I proceeded to say “Who’s this?” I guess it was a sort of defensive shield. I happen to be so insecure at times that I have to make other people feel insecure, in order to assure my own security. (I’m working on it)
We spoke for about an hour just laughing, and joking. She told me she got my number from the friend she called from my phone the other night. Then it all started.
Summarize, dammit.
We still joke about that from time to time, call it the Hermes Bags story 
). I'm usually bold with chicks but I was already drunk & high off coke so just went up to her and started spitting to her. 