The Man Handler

over me as I watch Garrett walk around the room with a towel wrapped around his waist. I exhale. There are still beads of water from his shower clinging to his strong back. I watch as he removes his towel and dries himself off. His dick slightly swings from side to side as he walks around the room. I close my legs, reliving how he fucked me deliciously. He glances at me, catches me staring at him. He smiles.

“You know,” he says, sitting on the edge of the bed next to me. “I’ve been thinking.” He pauses, gauging my reaction. I hold my breath, not liking the sound of this. I keep my eyes on him.

“I’m listening,” I say.

“I need to know where this is going.”

“Where what is going?” I question, feigning stupidity. I rise up on my forearms.

“This,” he says, gesturing with his hands. “You and me, this situation we got going on here.”

“What’s wrong with what we have going on?”

“Nothing,” he says, rubbing his chin, then running his hands over his neatly-trimmed face. “I mean everything. It’s been three years and it seems like you are okay with us being strictly fuck buddies, and—”

“I am,” I say, cutting him off. “I’m very much satisfied with the way things are between us.”

“Well, I’m not. I want more.”

For some reason, I hear Wade’s voice; see his face, but it’s not him. It’s the exact same song, only a different performer. I purse my lips, think before I speak. The fact that we are having this discussion comes as no surprise to me. My gut was telling me something like this was about to go down between him and me. I hate how it may turn out. “Well, you can’t have more,” I huff. “You knew the rules going into this, so don’t go trying to change them up now. This thing we have works.”

“This works for who? You? Well, it definitely isn’t working for me, anymore. I don’t want to just be some side dick you call on.”

I sigh, shaking my head. “Garrett, sorry to disappoint you, but I would rather we keep things the way they are. There’s no need to try to make shit complicated.”

“Babe,” he says, caressing the side of my face. He leans and plants a soft kiss on my lips. And strangely, I don’t pull back. “It doesn’t have to be complicated unless you try to make it that way. I enjoy you, and you can’t tell me you don’t feel the same way. So I think it’s time we try to take this to another level and see where it goes.”

“Another level?” I ask indignantly. “Why in the world would you want to do that?”

He stares at me. “To get to know you outside of the bedroom,” he says. “To get to know you with your clothes on, if that’s alright with you. Do you realize we’ve never gone out in public? Why is that? I would like to at least take you out to a movie, to a Broadway show, or something.”

“Going out turns into dating; dating turns into relationships. And I’m not interested in dating, and I’m not looking for a relationship.”

“Correction,” he says, “going out turns into two people getting better acquainted. Dating simply offers the opportunity to spend quality time with someone you enjoy being around. And if it turns into a relationship, then cool. If not, at least we enjoyed each other’s company. I think there’s so much more outside of fucking that we can offer each other.”

Great, I think, taking a deep breath. First Wade, now his ass! What the fuck?!

“What’s the harm in wanting to get to know you better? Everything doesn’t have to be about sex between us. There are times I would rather hold you in my arms, and watch a movie with you.” He gets up and paces the floor, then stops in his tracks. He locks his eyes on me as if he’s had an epiphany. He sits back down next to me on the edge of the bed. “Bianca, baby, you gonna need to make a decision.”

I blink, blink again. I can feel myself about to tell him to go to hell with this bullshit. But, I will myself to stay calm. In my head, I can see me telling him there is no decision to make; telling him to get the fuck out of my face, out of my house, with this shit. The words form on the tip of my tongue, but none come out in the way I think them. And that baffles me.

“Garrett, I think you should go ’cause I’m not interested in having this conversation with you. Not now, not ever. What you’ve been getting, is what you get. So, don’t start looking for more than what I’m willing to give.”

He frowns, studies me. Squints his eyes, then gets up from the bed. “Yeah,” he says, removing his towel from around his body. “I think you’re right. I’d better get going. I’ll call you one day next week.”

“That’s on you,” I say, flopping back on the bed and pulling the covers up over me. “Lock the door on your way out.” Men, I think, rolling my eyes up at the ceiling.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

I don’t care how hard I try to manage my time, there never seem to be enough hours on the weekends to relax before it’s time to drag back up in this piece. It always seems like the weekends fly by, but then comes the work week and the shit is dragging. It’s bad enough that, on top of the fact that I don’t feel like being here today, I’m worn out from getting slayed Friday, Saturday and Sunday. I don’t know about you, but for me, a good fucking can be so exhilarating and exhausting at the same time. And right about now, I’m both. Three days of back to back fucking is enough to hold me over for a few days, hell, maybe even a week.

Now contrary to what you may think, I don’t fuck every day of the week. However, if I do feel like getting my fuck on, that’s what I do. Then the following week, I simply chill, and suck a dick or two while my pussy rests, which is exactly what I plan to do this week.

Also, just so you know, if I’m not fucking on any given day, I might only have a dude who likes—no scratch that, loves—to eat pussy to come through and pet this sweet kitty with his tongue. This cuts down on the wear and tear, and keeps my pussy from looking like it’s been turned inside out. And if it’s really urgent that I feel the thrust of a dick, I’ll let him screw me in the ass. Please. Like I already told you, there’s no shame in my game. I have three holes, and I intend to use them all. So, think what you want, but I will not be denied!

Anyway, I’m sitting at my desk engrossed in my work, typing a monthly report, when Nahdirah knocks on my office door, and pops her head in. “Hey, girl, you busy?” she asks, scanning the room with her eyes.

“No, not really,” I say, looking up at her. “What’s up?” She walks in, closing the door behind her, then plops down in the leather chair in front of my desk. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Well, either it is, or it isn’t.”

“You know I’m starting to see why you stay to yourself here.”

Humph, I think, propping my elbows up on my desk, and clasping my hands under my chin. Somebody must have been talking about her, again. “And what makes you say that?” I ask, knowingly.

“Girl, I’m really starting to see what you mean about some of these chicks here.” I raise my brow and give her a look to get to the damn point. She gets the hint. “Saturday night I went out for drinks with Cheryl, Robin and Rachel down in the mailroom…”

Before she even says anything else, I already know that this has something to do with a man ’cause all three of them bitches she was out with are certified man eaters. So, I am so not interested in hearing this shit. Not today. But I allow her to bore me to death with her drama, anyway. She goes on to tell me how much of a good time she was having with these raggedy hoes until Robin has one drink too many and starts dropping hints about Rachel having slept with her man, Jake, then made some comment about how she had to have a tilted uterus to handle his curved dick. She says that’s when it turned ugly.

I roll my eyes, but she is oblivious to my disgust.

“…So I asked her flat out how the hell she knew his dick was curved, and if she had been with him. She waved me off, talking ’bout ‘I’m not the one you should be asking’, then slapped her hand up over her mouth, looking over at Rachel, who looked like a bitch with a handful of cookies in her mouth…”