Stupid Me

The male dancer’s body was compact and tight. His skin — a rich ebony hue — was slick and shiny from baby oil.

He undulated his body in front of me, his bubble ass swaying slowly to the music. I leaned forward and slipped a $20 bill into his bikini briefs.

“Do me a favor — do my boy,” I said. “I want to see that shit.”

My boy “Oliver” was sitting on the sofa across from me. We were at a buddy’s birthday party the day after Christmas. My buddy, “Leo,” had hired two male dancers. This was a big night for me. I have been hooking up with Oliver for a few weeks and wanted to see how we would interact in public.

The dancer smiled at me and moved over to Oliver, straddling his lap and grinding that ass into his crotch. It was hot to watch. Oliver’s face showed pleasure. I enjoyed watching him enjoy himself.

The male dancers eventually left and Leo wanted to get a sex party started with the five or so guys still left in his posh, high-rise apartment. Oliver and I played around awhile but I wasn’t feeling the scene. Leo and I used to hook up and he wanted to have a relationship with me that I did not desire, so that tension is there. He is also a tiresome control freak who likes to direct the action instead of letting it flow. But what broke the straw was his friend “Zack,” who jumped on me and insisted he wanted to fuck me.

“Dude, I don’t do that. Get off me,” I said.

“Stop playing. You know you like dick in your ass.”

“Look motherfucker. You play by my rules. If I say no I mean no.”

I resisted the urge to punch him in his face and instead pushed Zack off me and walked over to Oliver, who was having his dick slobbed down by Leo.

“I’m ready to go,” I said.

Oliver didn’t miss a beat. “Cool, let’s go.”

We put on our clothes and headed out. Unfortunately we messed up Leo’s salacious plans. All the other guests put on their clothes too and hit the door.

“Damn, guess I’m going to have to go to the club to go pick up some ass for my birthday,” Leo said.

“Oh well, I had a good time,” I said before giving him a last birthday hug and heading out.

I drove back to Oliver’s place and we lay down together. He is about two inches taller than me. He is not classically handsome in the gay sense. He has a square build and flat ass like a white man and an odd, loping walk because he had surgery on his leg bones when he was younger.

But he has beautiful eyes set a face the color of a pecan. He is masculine and aggressive, the way I like dudes. We are both in the media field so can carry a conversation with each other. And although I have not penetrated him the sex with him — the bumping and grinding, the oral, and nipple play — is intense. I swear kissing him is like drinking from a cool water fountain on a hazy, hot day. His kissing is just that good.

I gave him a pair of my drawers and he has a pair of mine. Sometimes I pull them out and smell his musk — that mixture of cologne and soap and sweat and pheromones. And he says he puts his nose right in the imprint my big dick makes and inhales deeply.

So now I’m wondering how I could have been so stupid.

We wake up Sunday morning because I plan to go to church (sinners need the Lord too) then on to my part-time job. He promises to meet later in the afternoon. I will cook and he insists I give him a shopping list so he will have the fixings ready when I get there. Then we’ll watch football and smoke some blunts and let what happens happen.

“Hey I got to pick up a buddy at the airport flying in from France and drop him at his boy’s place,” he said.

“Cool, I’m working so do your thing. We’ll just meet up later.”

I think it’s odd that he has to pick up his boy’s boyfriend. Why can’t his friend do that? But hey, that’s not my business.

I get off from work, cat around downtown an hour or so and text and call Oliver but no answer. About an hour later he calls and says the dude’s flight is delayed almost three hours.

“Cool, I’m downtown hanging around. Call me when you’re free.”

“That’s good. I really want to be with you. I’ll get back with you when the coast is clear.”

Coast is clear? That is an odd phrase to use, I think. But I say to myself…those are his buddies so that’s his business.

Eight o’clock comes. Nine o’clock. I haven’t heard from him. I got to the gym and work out like a fiend. Then I leave a voice mail and text saying if he wanted to hang with his buddies he could have done so. He texts back saying could we take a raincheck because he was tired and just wanted to sit back and watch the Washington Dallas football game.

I finally get the drift. “Look dude, if you wanted to hang with your boy from France, just do it.”

“Thanks for being so understanding,” he texts back.

I’m angry. Not angry that he is sexing somebody else. That’s cool and we had already agreed to play together and with others. What made me mad is that he obligated my time and lied about it. Shit, I could have done something else with my free Sunday afternoon than wait on him.

The lying hurt. But shit. I have lied to my wife so karma is bound to happen. So I talk to a few buddies about it and then suck it up and act like a man. All stoic and shit.

This morning I treat myself to breakfast at Bob Evans. Some bacon and eggs and whole wheat toast. I love eating alone, sitting at the lunch counter and flirting with the waitresses. One is named “Symphony,” a fine brown skinned sister with dreads. I love black women with natural hair. And I take my time read the newspaper cover to cover (Shit, Dallas beat the shit out of Washington!) while sipping coffee.

I read my horoscope Gemini and do a double take. It is so true.

“Few things are more valuable to you than a kept promise. Unfortunately, not everyone is into keeping his or her word sacred. But don’t worry. If you are let down someone will make it up to you very shortly.”

I relax some more and smile. God has blessed me. I am becoming myself. I am going to pick up my kids, hang out with them, and act silly and embarrass them. It will be a good day!