by
DaddyBear

Part 1

It's been a long night. It's gonna be a long day. I can't believe all the freaky shit that went down last night. Not your normal D&S or S&M. It wasn't freaky because of what we did but rather how we reacted to our actions. I look at her this morning and realize I did it again, damnit! Once again, I ended up with a woman that I didn't even really know! I mean, I knew her name, birthday, where she worked...but I didn't really know her. We met, fucked, dated, fucked. I semi-moved into her bed, her house and then her life. Now, after a solid year of incorporating this chick into almost everything I did, I wake up today and I realize as I look at her that I didn't even know her! It can be a very pivotal moment when you go from total wonderlust for someone to realizing, in one breath, you know absolutely nothing of that which comprises the very substance of their being. Shit!

"Good morning, baby," she says. She looks like a cat basking in the sun after a big bowl of cream: content as hell. Just as she fixes her pretty lips to speak to me again I blurt out, "I'm up!" I throw my clothes in my bag, make my rounds through the bathroom and over the dressertop: deodorant, cologne, wave brush, doo-rag. Grab my jewelry, throw on my Lugz and head for the door.

While I am getting my shit together she props herself up in bed and asks me, "where are you going, boo?" She has an expression on her face that is supposed to lure me back into bed...back into her arms...back into her pussy. Not this time! "I gotta go, lil mama," I say as I lean to kiss her on the forehead. She reaches up and softly pushes my face away. When I look down at her face, my eyes are fixated by hers. All of a sudden this person who seemed to be unchanging morphs like a chameleon everytime I turn around. Yesterday she was her normal conservative-Sheila self. Last night she was a self-assured wildcat. Yet, this morning she looks like a frightened child.

"What's wrong," she asks. "I thought we were better now. I thought last night was a breakthrough!" Her voice is slowing climbing in pitch.

"What are you talking about, woman?" I can't help myself.

"What am I talking about?" She is damn near squealing by now. Any moment her voice is going to crack glass. "What the fuck do you mean 'What are you talking about'? I finally let myself be dragged into one of your fantasies, then allow myself to relax and enjoy the shit and you're leaving? I don't believe this shit."

"Girl, you trippin'!" I don't believe her! She is actually flippin' out on me. "You don't believe this --"

"You damn right I don't believe this shit! I swear to God if you walk out this house you better not ever walk in again!"

She is nothing but pissed off now! She is pacing around in her thongs and camisole, smoking a cigarette with her hair all over her head. Tears have welled up in her eyes but she has too much pride as a black woman to allow them to spill. She will not cry over me in front of me! She sees me leaving and it makes her hysterical.

"Look, Sheila. I meant to leave while you were still sleeping."

"Sleeping?" She asks me this with that look that suggests I must be the stupidest motherfucker in the world for making such a statement.

I'm starting to fear for my life. Let me calm her down...quick! "Look, baby. Last night was a breakthrough. As far as I'm concerned, we are better now. All I meant was I needed some time to think. I mean, I can't believe what happened last night. I grabbed my stuff so I could go play a little basketball before work. I'm not leaving you, girl."

Other than when she finally came last night, that had to be the biggest look of relief I ever saw on anyone's face - EVER!

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Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Colette, but everybody calls me Mac. I live on the West Side of St. Louis in the 'hood. But, I drive a decent car - a classic actually (1963 Chevy Impala Convertible) - and have a clean crib. I dress well, have good manners and a respectable job. I am a butch lesbian who is not only out of the closet, but who doesn't give a fuck about anyone having a problem with my sexuality. To top it off, I'm not that bad looking: 5'10", light-skinned, wavy hair, eyes so dark they pierce your soul and a devilish grin which always produces two dimples. Sounds great, don't it? Yeah, well I have to admit that even though I act like I got it going on, I have one major weakness: fine, flirtatious, feminine sistahs.

And that's how I ended up with Sheila. You see I had been working at a local rec center. I'm sort of a jack of all trades when it comes to fitness and sports. Usually, I worked with the kids in the afternoons and on the weekends. Wherever the teenagers gravitated was were I was stationed. Well, one day my supervisor called and asked if I wanted some overtime because Dre had called off and there was no one to lifeguard the inside pool. I normally steered clear of the inside pool because of the types of members that used it - old men and women that didn't want to be bothered with the kids splashing and the fat people too embarrassed to show their blubbery tonnage in broad daylight. But, I did need the money so I told him I'd be there on time.

I put on my suit and trunks (what stud you know goes swimming in just a swimsuit?) and climb the lifeguard ladder. I get situated with the latest editions of On Our Backs and The Advocate and a new lesbian thriller I just bought. After about forty-five minutes and not a soul in the pool I hear a shower begin to spray. It's coming from the women's locker room and I cringe at the thought of what the person will look like that emerges from that doorway. I hear the spray stop and then I hear shower sandals clip-clopping toward the entrance. Oh well, here goes. I might as well get ready for geriatric water play or maybe...wait a minute - she's young! And she isn't overweight!

As I was taking this in she just stood there looking at me like I was a new life form. As soon as I was about to look at her face and speak, she dove into the deep end of the pool. No idle floating, soaking or water aerobics for this woman. No, she was here for exercise - serious exercise. She instantly fell into long-distance lap swimming form. Back and forth, back and forth. She went back and forth without pause for at least twenty or thirty minutes. I'm thinking, "damn, she's got endurance like a motherfucker!" Just as she finishes her last lap, Eddie, the pool man, comes out and says it's time for him to drain and clean the pool.

"All right, Eddie. When she's all done, we'll clear out of here for you."

"Thanks, Mac."

She looks at me, winks and smiles. Then she hops out of the pool and is gone! Damn, damn, damn! All I saw was her swimming cap and her eyes. Well, the only way out of here is through the locker room. I am a woman, so maybe I'll see her on my way out to the lobby. As I am walking through I see a dangerous backside disappear into the farthest shower. I have never been so desperate to see a woman's face before! Nor have I ever been so unsuccessful in seeing all I wanted to see! Since I hadn't gotten into the pool, there was no need for me to shower and it would have seemed obvious for me to just hang around. I went to find my supervisor to see what I could do next and was stopped by Wendy who works the front desk.

"Mac, can you do me a favor?" Ordinarily I would come back with something flirtatious because Wendy is cute and very, very friendly. God knows I have had more than one 'friendly' night at Wendy's. But, Miss Olympic Swimmer was still on my mind and I just couldn't shake the fact that although she and I spent a half hour alone in a room together I still had no idea what she looked like...except for those damn eyes!

"Yeah, Wendy. Wassup?"

"I need to go pick up my kid from school. He's sick and there's no one else who can do it for me."

"Damn, Wendy! You know I hate working this desk! It ain't nothing but kids coming in here asking for change for the vending machines."

"Awwww, Mac," she said as she backed up against the wall behind her. The further back she moved the more of her lower body I could see on the other side of the desk. "Can't you do me a favor just once Mac, please? I promise I'll make it up to you." All the while she's smiling like she knows I'm gonna help her. When I follow her eyes downward, I notice she's wearing thigh-highs under that skirt - not pantyhose! And to top it off, her pussy is so smooth it looks like she shaved it on her morning break; and there are no panties blocking my view!

"Girl, you crazy! Go on and get out of here! Go get your kid before he pukes on somebody!"

"Mac, you so sweet! I'mma pay you back, I promise!" She kisses me on my cheek and runs out in a hurry. I don't know who she foolin', but it ain't me! I know her son is in Mississippi and the only reason she tryin' to get out of work is because it's payday! That's alright though, I ain't got shit else to do.

Just when I get back into the article about the man who legalized civil unions in Vermont running for president, I hear someone clearing their throat. I really hate it when people walk up on me and just watch me be engrossed in something else. If you want something, say it! Don't just stand there - I obviously don't see you! So, I ignored the motherfucker!

"Hmmm-hmmm!" Louder this time, which only made me more annoyed. Just when I looked up to see who the fuck wants to get cussed out first today I suddenly need something to drink! Here is the woman I so desperately wanted to see standing right before me. It's weird that I wanted so badly to see her face, but now that I could see her so clearly it was very overwhelming that she, too, was looking at me.

She was about 5'3" or 4" with a head full of hair. No, make that a full mane of hair! Long, thick, wild red hair! Not red like Eve or burgundy or maroon or copper. But, that dirty red that can be found naturally amongst blacks every now and again. She too was dirty red and her hair seemed to be only an extension of her skin, rather than a protrusion from it. Her eyes were like gold. It was very odd how everything about her seemed fake and real at once. I mean, the color and texture of everything about her - from the intensity of her hair's waves, to the wildness of her eye color, to the length of her nails - were the exact target of every ghetto girl's dream. But, somehow, when you took it all in you realized these colors and textures were native to her. She had not altered anything; rather she built on it 'til it consumed everyone and everything in her presence. Red is sexy, but on this woman it was damn near lethal! She was built really well! As far as my tastes go anyway. Short enough for herto be cute and thick enough for her to be sexy!

"Well, are you just going to stare at me or are you going to ask how you can help me?" She spoke proper enough for me to know she was educated, but not so nasal that I thought she was a snob.

"I'm sorry, ma'am. What can I do for you?" I threw on my best stud-smile and tried my damndest to get her to smile for me again.

"I need to pay my dues for the year. My membership expires Monday. Can you help me with that?"

"Of course I can help you with that." And a whole lot more, I'm thinking. "I'll need your ID, please." Goodie, goodie! Now I get to know her name!

"Of course. Here you go." When she handed me her Missouri driver's license her fingers grazed my palm. Actually, her long fingernails grazed my palm, which made me notice they were painted fire-engine red to the point of actually looking like they dripped the sweetest nectar. As I though of this I got wet and began to lose my cool.

"Umm, ok...is this your current address..." (honey's living sweet in the Central West End) "has your name changed..." (Sheila Corruthers, huh?) "how long would you like to renew for...that'll be $64.00...cash or credit?" I swear I didn't look up - I couldn't! I blush easily (thanks to my bright complexion) and I was not about to allow her to see my reaction to such a meaningless touch. But, I swear I felt the essence of life flow through those fingertips and it electrified my soul.

"Here's your receipt ma'am. Your new ID card will be ready for you Monday. You can pick it up the next time you visit after that. Here is a brochure outlining our new hours of operation and the classes coming up this summer. If you have any questions, my name is Mac." There, I finally told her my name!

"Thanks, Mack. Excuse me for asking, but how does a person get a name like 'Mack'? Was your mother into blaxploitation movies?" She says this in a way that starts getting under my skin, but I decide to let it go. She don't know shit about my mother!

"Naw, baby girl, it ain't 'M-a-c-k', it's 'M-a-c'. My first girlfriend called me that back in high school and it just kinda stuck with the straight people. Heteros love calling butches by men's names, I see no reason not to indulge them a little bit."

"Well, I don't know about heteros, but I think you look like a 'Mac'. It was nice talking to you. Maybe I'll see you around sometime. Bye."

"I can only be seen in certain places. I doubt that a nice lady like you would hang in the spots I frequent. Have a nice day." She was fine and full of energy - dangerous energy. This woman was able to intrigue me, make me blush, get under my skin and then flirt with me in an hour flat. Women like her could be bad for a stud's rep. I mean, I am the only lesbian on the West Side to have completely infiltrated the brothas' way of life and not be the neighborhood joke. The women flirted with me along with the fellas even if they were 'straight'. And no man stepped to me thinkin' I was an easy win. A chic like this one could have me whipped and then I'd look like a fool. No, thank you. I think I'll just let her go.

So, I finished my eight hours and headed home. My boi, Tamara, called and asked if I felt like going to The Spot. It's a place where butches and hetero men can shoot pool, talk shit and watch sexy women serve drinks and perform on stage. She said she felt like kickin' it - just the fellas, no fish - and gettin' fucked up.

"Well, I guess I have to bring bud 'cuz you always got that doodoo! Can you at least make me a Martell and ice for the ride?"

"Fuck you, Mac. I can't help it if I ain't got your hookup. Yeah, man, I got your drink. Just come pick me up...let's go!"

So I picked her up and we headed for The Spot. We're having a cool time and I'm whoopin' her ass. It seems like this might be one of the better nights to be here. Plenty of women were working the tables and the stage and plenty of drunken men and butches ready to lose their money.

Now, can you guess who just walked in?

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I'll be damned if I don't turn around to catch a bar bunny for another shot when I see red out of the corner of my eye. The kind of red you dream about often but see rarely. Now, I'd seen it twice in the same day! I focus my attention on the doorway and the redness seems to meld into the background of drunks, gamblers and smoke.

"Look, baby, whatcha want? I can't be standin' here waitin' on you to make up your mind!"

"I'm sorry, lady. Get my boi and me a couple of Martell's, okay? Double's on ice, baby girl." I flash my smile 'cuz I know I must look like an asshole lookin' off into space like that. I gotta make sure the tip is good or she probable won't serve me any more tonight. And I hate standing at the bar for a drink.

"Man, wassup with you? You been actin' weird ever since you picked me up, Mac. Everything alright, dawg?" Tamara is a butch - in the soft way. I love her to death, but we are as different as night and day. I ain't nothin' but a nigga! I am a rough-and-tumble, aggressive, dominant-ass stud! I love my jeans saggy and my greens in a baggy! My ladies are LADIES and they know who runs it. But, my boi T is a whole other story. Comparing us is like comparing Mystikal to Teddy Pendergrass. I make 'em want to shake their asses and she makes 'em want to turn out the lights! Whereas I would let her get out of her somber mood on her own unless she asked me for advice, she is sensitive to my emotional changes and wants to make sure I'm cool through conversation!

"T, I'm cool. I met this chic at work today and she's got me buggin' out!"

"Not Mac!?! Man, you don't trip off no woman!"

"I ain't trippin'. I just thought I saw her come in."

"How can you think you saw someone come in here, Mac? You fucked up as hell and it's dark as shit! I can barely see you!"

"I know, I know. Look, forget I said anything, T. All I wanna do is shoot pool and take in all this eye candy."

"All right, man." With that, she racked and I got ready to break. Just then, my song came on. Since I love to show off I decided to show these folks how you stomp in those Air Force 1's. I got to crazy leggin' and Nina Poppin' all over that small dance floor. I was really feelin' my groove. A couple of fish came to dance with me but they couldn't keep up. I'm not really with the bump-and-grind on fast songs - especially rap jams. I prefer a woman to show me she can truly dance! I looked over in time to see Tamara handling two honies herself. She looked like she was having the time of her life! This is what it's all about: just kickin' it with the fellas and --

Wait a minute! What happened to the rest of my bois? I called them on my way to T's crib over two hours ago and they said they would be here soon. I needed to call and find out what's going on. As I turn to leave the dance floor, I reach into the back pocket of my carpenter jeans for my bandana so I can wipe the sweat off my face.

"Lookin' for this, Mac?"

" Yeah, thanks..." I can't believe it! It's her! I did see what I thought I saw when I thought I saw what I was seeing! Of all the people in all the places at all the times, I had to keep running into this woman who seemed to disturb the essence of me! And now she's touching me again while I grab my bandana from her hand. Now, on top of the bud, Martell and music, I have the energy of this red woman coursing through my veins!

"Remember me? My name is --"

"Sheila Corruthers. I remember." Damn, that was a punk move! Now she knows she affected me. I gotta clean this up. Quick! "I see I was mistaken about you. I didn't think you'd come to a place like this." Score 1-0, my favor.

"I cummmm here often but, I'm sure you're mistaken often about other things as well." Why did she have to say 'cummmm'? She's making me real excited! "Did you assume I didn't shoot pool, wouldn't venture out into the North Side or that I'm too conservative to be seen in an alternative establishment?"

Why did she have to look at me like that when she spoke? Was she intentionally stabbing me with those eyes, or did they have their own motive for wanting to see inside my soul? Again, she gave me mixed signals with her facial expressions, body language and tone of voice. Was she being sarcastic or indignant? I didn't know which, but I decided to play her game of words and wits.

"Actually, I hadn't given any thought as to what you'd be doing tonight. I'm here with my boi waiting on the rest of the group to show up. This is a night for butch-bonding and the only thing I've thought about beyond that is what I'll be doing later on tonight." In other words, don't get it twisted!

"Well, let me know if it involves me. I like to be prepared." And with that she pulled another of her disappearing acts. She melted into the crowd of people on the dance floor as they all became engrossed by the beat of "4 My People" by Missy.

I headed over to our table to grab my cell out my jacket. As soon as I touched it I could feel it vibrating. Seven calls! I check the messages. One is from Toni; she can't make it tonight because she's got finals tomorrow. Toni is the only one of us to go to college and stick with it. Another is from Daline - a chic I know from around the 'hood. She's saying she really wants to come over and do some freaky shit tonight. Any other time I'd let her know what time to be ready. But, tonight I'm thinkin' I should stick around The Spot and see what happens with Ms. Corruthers over there. So, I erase the message (I've got her number on speed dial) and listen to the third, and final, message.

"Hello, Mac, how are you? I got your number from a friend of a friend. It seems you are very popular amongst femmes in this town. I've heard nothing but rave reviews on your oral talents. I like what I saw and what I heard, but now I want to get to know you for myself. I've been watching you for a while and decided to let my presence be known today. If you're interested you'd better show it before the night's over." Click!

I knew this chic was dangerous. Fine, but definitely dangerous! Damn, what friend of a friend gave her my cell phone number? I'm used to women flirting with me, even to the point of desperation, but now I'm being stalked? I look over at the dance floor and there she is looking right into me. I told y'all about my weakness: fine, flirtatious, feminine sistahs. And, I swear it ain't nothing better than a fine, flirtatious, feminine sistah except one with attitude! I decide to play it cool and convince T to shoot pool again.

Soon as she racks, Jimi (our token white girl butch), Butch (hey, I call 'em as I see 'em, and homegirl didn't have a chance. She can't be nothing but a butch with a face like that!) and Kara walked over. Now Kara is sort of our groupie. She likes to be around the bois and like the bois to be around her - ALL around her. All of us have hit that, several times! She is a free spirit who loves getting fucked and doesn't see why she should limit herself to one (or ten) lovers. She's cool, drama-free and can hang with us when we drink or smoke. Kara has a color complex and loves the contrast between her dark-chocolate skin (compliments of her Dominican parents) and my mulatto complexion. For that reason alone, I am her favorite. In an instant, she's all over me. Next time I look towards the dance floor I can't see Sheila anywhere. I finally get Kara to calm down and turn her attentions onto the pool table so I can go see about Miss Olympic.

As I head to the bar I see everybody I know in life except her. I get to the bar and just when the bartender is ready to fill my order I get the urge to pee. I down the corona in sixty seconds flat and head to the bathroom. Now let me fill you in on The Spot. It's clean and all, but it's just a small, black-owned establishment on the poor side of town. There are two bathrooms: one for males and one for females. But, in The Spot, you go where you want. I usually go in the men's because it's cleaner - all the men go in the women's to chase some tail. In each bathroom there is one toilet and two sinks. It's almost like being at home - right down to the TP being on the back of the stool. There's a light switch so you have to actually turn on the light when you walk in. As soon as I get to the door (relieved that it is not in use right now), I am pushed from behind and enclosed in the men's room with another person while the lights are off.

The sound of the button on the knob being pushed in let's me know I've been locked inside. I reach blindly for the switch only to have my hand playfully slapped away. "What the fuck is going on? Who are you?" I don't know what to think now.

"Mac," it's that voice again, "why don't you quit playing hard to get? You know you want it."
Now, honey's pressed up against me like her life depends on it. Her tummy is soft but it doesn't separate us. Her thighs are thick and solid; she plants her feet outside mine and leans back against the wall, pulling me with her. Her arms are wrapped around my neck and wild, springy hair is in my face. I can smell her Sand & Sable perfume mixing with the vodka on her breath. I can feel mami's tits crushed between us. She's running her fingernails through the parts between my cornrows and it's driving me crazy. I know it's Sheila, but I decide to fuck with her anyway.

"Look, baby. Who are you? What do you want?" I just barely get the words out before I have to stifle a moan. She has lowered her arms from around my neck to around my waist. She's pulling me into her making me pump against her spread crotch. I guess I pumped harder this time because all of a sudden she took notice of my 10 1/2" strap inside my jeans. My strap has a nubbin on the end that touches me to provide me with pleasure. She's bucking so fiercely I feel like I'm gonna nut any minute.

"You know who I am. I saw you checking your messages, so you also know what I want. Why don't you just give it to me?" Now she's practically climbing up my body 'til her legs are wrapped around my waist and I am her only support. She's grinding like a dog in heat and even though I wanna give her what she wants, I can't get down with this.

"Look, ma. I don't know who you been talkin' to about me, but they obviously gave you some misinformation. I don't go for rowdy chics. I know I told you everybody calls me Mac, but I didn't finish my statement. Everybody calls me Mac, except my women. They call me Daddy. Right now you're acting like you run it and it just ain't going down like that, lil mama. Maybe when you act like a good kitten Daddy will cummmm make you purr."

Just like that I let go of her and made her support her own weight. I wanted it bad...real bad! But I can't let her get me off point while I'm out with my bois. Besides, I learned my lesson a long time ago: don't have emotional sex with a woman if you ain't gonna make her you wifey. I am a freak from way back, but chics start thinking it's deeper than it is because I sucked on her toes. Maybe she thinks we're exclusive and in love because I tossed her salad like I was on a crash diet. As much as I love doing these things, I know if I do them a woman will go coocoo on me and we won't be able to fuck anymore. I can't lie to a woman and no woman wants to profess her love then not have it reciprocated. If she wanted me to fuck her, she was gonna have to behave and do it my way!

"Umph...I was told you were stubborn but I didn't know you were flat out mule-headed! You're not attracted to me? I don't turn you on? Because if you're not interested I will never bother you again! All you have to do is tell me." She sounds indignant, embarrassed and hurt. Indignant and embarrassed I can deal with. But, hurt is something I never want to be the cause of for a woman.

"Look, ma. If I wasn't interested you would have felt the vibe, trust me! All I'm saying is the only way to have rough sex with me is for me to be rough with you. Nobody fucks Mac. Mac fucks you. You understand?" I lowered my voice and softened my tone. Not too much, just enough for her to notice the difference. As I'm talking to her, I lean in close by her right ear and let her feel my breath float over her neck. My left hand is propping me up against the wall over her shoulder and my right hand is working its way down her side.

"Yes." She says it with little emotion, if any. Not rude, just direct.

"Now I don't have much time left before my bois decide to break it up and head home." I let the left thumb extend from my palm and stroke her cheek with it. "What I really want to do is take a piss and go back out to my table." My right hand has found its way to her waist and I'm encircling it while crushing her tighter to me. "I want to have a few more drinks and smoke some more bud and look at the women." My left foot pushes her feet apart so she is spread like she was a moment ago. As soon as her foot moves I step closer still. "Most of all, I wanna kick it with the fellas as long as I can and then I wanna go home." I do the pumping this time. My strokes are slow and deliberate, in perfect pace with my words. I can feel her arching her back in a vain attempt to gain further pleasure for her. But she also refrains herself, fearful I will reject her once again. "Do you understand?" Now I put my ear near her lips to ensure I hear her clearly when she speaks. If she's half the woman she needs to be for me to fuck her, she will have to respond correctly this time. Otherwise, it's over for her.

"Yes," she pauses, unsure, "Daddy."

"Good girl." She stays in the game for another round! I leave her by the door breathless in the dark to piss in the stall without a door. I wash my hands and head out the door. She is still standing there regaining her composure. I'll deal with her later. Right now I got to get back and see what my fellas are doing.

Part 2

Copyright © 2003. Used by permission of author. All Rights Reserved.



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