Prologue - My Dream Guy
"What the—?" Jeri spontaneously yelps, reaching for the gun strapped under his jacket as he enters his penthouse apartment. He's startled, but I dare not move an inch. I continue to seductively pose, standing in his hallway, buck-naked and awaiting him, glistening in my sister's oils. You would think that I would feel self-conscious, but nope, I don't have any shame. I'm nowhere near being fit, but my curves are all in the right places.
"Why don't we stop playing games?" I coyly smile and strike another sensuous position against the wall.
"How the heck did you get in here?" He grills me, regaining his cool and lustfully staring like I'm a surf-and-turf meal that he’s about to indulge. He removes his mink-trimmed leather coat and tosses it to the floor. I inhale deeply.
The smell of expensive stuff does something to me. A brisk chill runs down my spine. This could all be mine. Whoa. I exhale, attempting to play it cool but the excitement has already reached my breasts. I reveal the spare key that Rah, my sister, and his boo, made in case of emergencies, dangling from a rabbit-foot keyring hooked around my pointer finger. I bite down on my bottom lip. Eeeooowww, it's about to be on.
"Pfft! I should've known that key was a mistake." Jeri removes his pagers and then loosens his tie. There’s no doubt he's referring to giving Rah the key to his world when he should have given it to me.
Earlier, at Jeri's strip club, Vixens, I witnessed him in what seemed like a vengeful ranting, pimp Rah out in an auction to the highest bidder. He was acting like she wasn't the girl he'd been boasting about being his ride or die for the past six years. Sensing a break-up, I quickly made my move and jumped on the chance to become my sister's replacement. I didn't stop to think of the consequences. From the moment I met Jeri, I craved him like chocolate. So when the opportunity arose, I tossed caution to the wind and left the club early with a plan of seduction in mind.
Strutting down the hall boldly, wearing only a pair of black patent leather stilettos, I stop to allow Jeri to absorb all my lushness, then I toss him the spare key. He catches it mid-air with one hand without taking his eyes off me. I swallow hard. Hmm, a multi-tasker. That's what I'm talkin' bout.
"So, what you wanna do?" I pop my fingers and roll my neck.
Jeri takes a step toward me. I can feel the rhythm of Jamaica beating in sync with his diddy-bop. He licks his lips and moves in fast. Oh, snap! I brace myself. This is really happening. His favorite rap group is Wu-Tang Clan. As he approaches, I swear I can hear the chorus to "Shimmy Shimmy Ya," by Ol' Dirty Bastard, playing from the back of his mind. Raw isn't what I was expecting. Naively, I anticipated something smoother like Denzel Washington's character Bleek Gilliam, with his sexy self, playing the trumpet. Some rose petals and candles scattered about, and Jeri lifting my big butt off the ground, but he doesn't. He rips off his shirt—the buttons and all. He's built like Adonis. I melt.
"Oh, damn!" I say out loud, mentally scanning his god-like image for future reference.
Jeri's eagerness is making me nervous. I lead him into his bedroom, hoping the change of atmosphere can conjure up a more romantic and gentle side of him. I want this dream to play out in high-definition slow motion and not fast forward. The bedroom setting only excites him more. He doesn't give me a chance to become a part of the moment. Before I know it, Jeri is kneading my body like dough, but no shivers run up my spine. His strong clammy hands grab me but don't hold me in an embrace. His juicy lips are sweet but not as sweet as I imagined. His mouth is cold, and his kisses lack the transformative ability to carry me away. I'm still not where I'm supposed to be. Instantly guilt and remorse set in, but was too late for that. Jeri is grunting, humping, and speaking in tongues on top of me. I try to psych myself into enjoying the moment that I dreamt of all these years, but I can't. This negro is high, and he smells of too much tequila. My eyes are on my chocolate dream, but his eyes are not on me. Yo, don't you realize that this is us...or maybe it was only my dream? Jeri roars in prematurely released pleasure. Damn, I really should have had a V8...I mean like really.
I’m just about to curse him out when Rah, who wasn't invited, but not altogether unexpected, hysterically yells from the bedroom door.
"Go-Go! What are you doing?" Her eyes frantically dot over the forbidden scene. Still, from her expression, I can tell that she hasn't fully registered what she witnessed.
Jeri and I scramble in shock. I shield my naked body with my arms, while he instinctively jumps for his pistol on the nightstand.
"Damn," he mumbles under his breath, placing the pistol down and picking up a cigar instead. "Well, isn't this a blip," he teases with impish laughter, leaning back on the plush white pillows that Rah decorated their bed with. He lights the stogie, laughing harder. Payback is written all over his face, and that's why I love him. We're the same kind of evil.
"How could you? Why would you?" Rah asks, mainly toward me. The betrayal is tearing her delicate heart apart, and I'm embarrassed but gloating nevertheless in my achievement.
I lean back into Jeri's outstretched arm. All these years, I waited for Rah to familiarize herself with the pain of defeat. Yup, I'm taking this front-row seat. An arrogant mien smears across my brazen face, but at the same time, I can't help but wonder, what am I doing? Our eyes lock. Suddenly, I feel like I'm 8-years-old again, and it's September 3, 1982. Two things happened on that day that I'll never forget: I acquired an older sister, and I fell in real love.
