The Man Handler

I smile. “Any time.”

“You talk to Garrett yet?”

“Nope,” I say, lying across my sofa, rubbing my stomach. “He hasn’t called me, and I haven’t called him.”

“I see. Don’t you think you should reach out to him?”

“For what?” I ask, hoping to not sound too callous. But, what the fuck?! “He’s not my man.”

“Yeah, maybe he wasn’t, but after three years, I’d think you’d have, if nothing else, a fondness for him. I’d hate to see you let a good man slip away.”

Yeah, I did. I was fond of that thick, cut, juicy-ass dick. “It’s probably for the best.”

“For who?”

“For him.”

“Why, don’t you think you deserve to have a good man in your life?”

“Of course I do.”

“So then, what’s the problem?”

I think, consider, his question; contemplate telling him that the only thing good I want from a man is his dick, that I am easily bored with men; that I am very freaky and nasty. That I love being face-fucked and sucking dick, edging a man for hours, wrapping my lips around the underside of the rim of his dickhead and working it with my warm, wet lips, taking him to the brink again, and again, and again, each time more intense ’til he plunges into a shattering orgasm. I wonder how he would respond to all of this, then decide it probably wouldn’t go so well.

“I’d rather not discuss it,” I state, “so, let’s change the subject, please.”

“Okay, you got that. I know when to back up, and mind my own business.”

“Thank you.”

“So what are your plans for the holidays? Jacki wanted me to invite you over to spend Christmas Eve with us. She’s cooking a big dinner, and we’ll be lighting the tree. We’re expecting about twenty-five people.”

“I wish I could. It sounds like it will be fun. But, I’m going to be away.”

“Away? Where?”

“Egypt.”

“Egypt?” he asks, sounding surprised. “When did you decide to go there?”

“A few weeks ago.”

“Wow, how long is the flight?”

“Eleven, twelve hours, I think. It’s six or seven hours to Frankfurt, then another five or so hours to Cairo.”

“Sounds exciting. When are you leaving? And how long are you going to be over there?”

“Yeah, I’m excited. I’m leaving on the twenty-third.”

“Cool. How long will you be gone?”

“I’ll be there for ten days.”

“Well, you make sure you stay safe.

“I definitely will.”

“Who you going with?”

“Myself,” I say.

“Wait a minute. You’re going to a foreign country by yourself? Are you serious?”

“Tyler, I’m a big girl. I’ll be fine.”

“The hell you will!” he snaps. “I’m not comfortable with you flying across the ocean alone. You need me to come along as security.”

I laugh. “Boy, you silly. I promise you, I’m gonna be fine. The adventure will do me some good.”

“Well, you make sure you leave your hotel info, and check in every night so that I know you’re okay.”

I shake my head. “Yes, Dad. Anything else?”

“Yeah, I love you.”

“I love you more.”

“Call me before you leave.”

“I will. Give everyone a hug for me.”

The minute I hang up from him, my BlackBerry vibrates, alerting me that I have new emails. I pick up the device off of the kitchen counter, then scroll over to my Nutcracker69 address. There are two emails, one from Dickudownallnight and the other from Jamil. Nigga, please, I think, deleting Jamil’s without opening it. I open Dickudown’s: What’s good, baby? I’m still waiting to hear from you. Hit me back, Marquise.

I sigh. As tempting as his dick looked in that pic he sent, there’s a reason why I don’t recall who he is, and I’m sure an even better reason why I stopped fucking him. I have no interest in trying to figure it all out. No going back to dismissed dick, I think, hitting the reply button. I’ve broken enough rules already. ‘Sorry, boo, thanks for the offer. But, I’m not interested.’ I press send, then delete his message.

My cell rings. I pick it up and glance at the number flashing across the screen. It’s Wendell. I’m not in the mood for him, either. As matter of fact, I haven’t been in the mood for much of anything, particularly anything that has to do with a man. The only thing I am interested in at this moment is catching my plane in a few days. I press decline, then toss the phone on the sofa, deciding to go through my phonebook before the new year comes in, and delete useless numbers.

I go into the kitchen, pour myself a glass of ginger ale, then sit at the kitchen table, glancing up at the wooden wall clock. It’s almost seven o’clock in the evening. I hold my glass to my lips, pursing my lips before taking a slow, deliberate sip. I sigh. I will need to make some major changes in my life for the New Year. Of course, giving up dick definitely isn’t one of the things I plan on changing—or giving up. But, maybe, the number of men I’m fucking at one time does need changing. For now, at least, I think, getting up from the table, placing my half-empty glass in the sink, then heading upstairs to lie down. I stifle a yawn, realizing I’m extremely exhausted. I climb up into my bed with my clothes still on, then slowly drift off to sleep.

Two days later, I am running through the house like a raving lunatic, tossing shit into my suitcase, making sure I don’t forget anything, before zipping it up and placing it near the front door. My limo will be here in an hour. I run back upstairs to finish putting last minute items into my carry-on, then bring it downstairs and place it beside my suitcase. My doorbell rings, and I think it is my driver to take me to the airport. I glance at my timepiece. It’s only one-thirty. My flight doesn’t leave until five. “You’re early,” I say, swinging the door open. “I—”

My jaw drops. “Garrett? What are you doing here?”

“Can I come in?”

I take him in. He looks tired, and as if he’s lost some weight. But he is still as fine as ever. A part of me wants to slam the door in his face, curse him out for coming to my home unannounced, but, in all honesty, he hasn’t done anything, other than trying to wife me up, to warrant such disrespect. My thoughts temporarily slip back to the last time we were together, how he fucked me deliciously. Better than all the other times. How his dick fit perfectly inside of me; how my pussy saturated his dick with its love juices, causing pellets of lust to rapidly burst through me with every stroke. Then I remember, how being fucked down by him—without a damn condom—got me into all this mess in the first place, and shake the images out of my head.

I step back and allow him to enter. “What brings you here?”

“I was thinking about you,” he says as he walks through the door. He glances over at my luggage. “Going somewhere?”

I glance at my watch. “Actually, I am. I thought you were the limo driver when you rang the doorbell. You could have called.”

“You mind if I have a seat?” I extend my hand toward the sofa, gesturing for him to sit. He sits, and I find myself taking a seat on the other end of the sofa, keeping a safe distance between us. “Yeah, you’re right. I could have called, but I wanted to see you before the holidays.”

I smile. “That was thoughtful of you.” I remember what Tyler told me, and decide to ask, “How have you been?”

“I’ve had better days, but nothing I can’t shake.”