Page 73 of Between the Sheets

I let the retarded muhfucka live and disconnect on his ass. We go into another quick break. I stand and stretch my arms up over my head. Then crack my neck from side to side, reaching for my cell. The chiming sound lets me know it’s a text from Marika. I type in my password, then retrieve my text. Marika sends me a picture of herself posing in front of the mirror in black heels and her panties on. My mouth waters.

ME: DAMN! Y U FUCKIN W/ME?

MARIKA: U MAKE ME FEEL SEXY

Nina waves her hands to get my attention. We’re about to go back on the air. I hit Marika back real quick. Let her know I gotta run. Then tell her to hit me with some more of them sexy-ass flicks.

I sit back in my seat and adjust my headset as Mary J’s “No Happy Holidays” fades out. I glance at the time. It’s eleven thirty. Thirty more minutes! I’m ready to get home and crawl up in bed with my wife. Real shit.

“Yo, what’s good, my freaks…we’re back with more Creepin’ ‘n’ Freakin’ After Dark. And man, listen. Y’all got the phone lines going nuts tonight. And judging by the number of listeners who’ve already called in, infidelity appears to be an epidemic. Let me get back to the phone lines.” I pick up line three. “Yo, what’s good; it’s ya boy, MarSell. Who’s this?”

“This is LaRhonda from Uptown.”

“Oh, aiight, LaRhonda from Uptown. What’s good, ma-ma?”

“Mmph. I’ma tell you what’s good, boo. This good-good; that’s what. Them bitches out here calling in and hating on us side chicks. Ha! Call me what you want, like I’m supposed to give a fu—bleep about what your invisible asses think. I’m still that chick. And, bitch, trust. I’m coming fo’ yo’ man. Get used to it. Because bitches like me ain’t going nowhere. We don’t mind sharing. At least, I know I don’t. All I want is the dic—bleep. He leaves me with a smile on his face. Yeah, he’s running home to you. But I’m the one he’s thinking of when he’s lying in bed next to you. I’m the one he’s missing. I’m the one he can’t wait to see again.

“I’m the one he’s sneaking text messages and phone calls to. I’m the one he can’t get enough of. Not you, hon. So for all those miserable-ass broads sitting at home, or riding around tryna find where their man’s getting his creep on at, get yo’ life, dumb-ass. I’m happy with playing the sideline while you play wifey or the mainline chick. Ha! The real fools in the room are you, clown-ass hoes. I get to fuc—bleep your man, run his wallet, then send him home to ya stressed-out ass. I don’t wanna keep him, boo-boo. You do. Truth be told, I feel sorry for you.”

Click.

“Damn, yo. She just hit us, straight like that. Raw ‘n’ hard.”

The next four callers go off on the women who get down with playing the sidepiece, calling them all types of snake-bitches, whores, home wreckers, etc.

“Daaaamn,” I say, feeling a headache creeping up in the center of my forehead. “Y’all goin’ in on the side chicks like they’re really ya problem. Like one caller already stated, she’s not your problem. Ya man is. And, real shit. I gotta agree. But know this, if you rockin’ with a mofo who creeps, you are not the cause. He or she makes a conscious choice to step outta the relationship to get it in with someone else, whether it’s a one-time stick ‘n’ move, a weekend fling, or some ongoing affair, it’s purposeful, my peeps. And that’s real shit.

“But, yo, hold up. Don’t get it twisted. Broads are real grimy, too. They cheat just as much as the fellas do. The only difference is, chicks real sweet with how they get it in. Ya heard. Bottom line…the only home wrecker in the room is the one who steps outta their drawz to get it in with someone else without consent from their mate. And for you dumbo broads putting in applications for all those vacant sidepiece spots, don’t feel the least bit guilty for gettin’ ya swerve on. Do you. But don’t be messy with ya shit. Don’t disrespect a mofo’s situation just because he is. Stay in ya lane. Play ya position. Respect the game. You have ya reasons for doing what you do just like the chick who stays taking her man back or frontin’ like she doesn’t know what time it is, does.

“My advice to everyone else who ain’t beat for all the extras that come with creepin’ is this: Keep them freak flags flying. High. Keep shit spicy in them sheets. Keep them lines of communication open. Keep ya sexy on. And, yeah, fellas, you need to keep ya situations tight, too. Give ya women something to look forward to. Give ’em a reason to want to jump up ‘n’ down on ya bone without you having to ask for it. Stimulate her mind. Seduce her. That is all I’ma say on that. Get at me on Twitter or Instagram. Thanks for tuning into another bangin’ segment of 93.3’s Creepin’ ‘n’ Freakin’ After Dark. It’s been real. Until the next time…keep it sexy, keep it wet…always keep it ready. I’m out.”

TWENTY-SEVEN

Marika

Hot breath.

Slick

tongue.

I spread my quivering thighs wider, opening my sweet pussy to Nairobia’s gaze. She traces a finger along my delicate folds, opening me wider, taking in my cum-and-spit slick cunt. Heat spreads like wildfire through my veins as she groans into my wet, tingling flesh. “Aah, mmmm…so delicious. So pretty.”

She licks, softly at first, swiping the entire pad of her wicked tongue over my slit and up my clit, swirling around the velvety pink nub. It swells and throbs as she delicately pulls it between her teeth with a light sucking motion.

I fight to catch my breath as Nairobia lovingly caresses my clit, then sucks and licks my pussy lips. Nibbling. Kissing. Licking. Laving. Nairobia’s tongue scorches over my sex as she circles my clit, then plunges inside of me.

I gasp. “Oh yes, oh yes, oh yes…Mmmm, yessss…tongue my pussy. Yes.”

She stops licking and starts sucking, alternating quick up-and-down strokes with darting and dipping, fucking into me.

I am beside myself.

Crazy with want.

Crazy with need.

Crazy with desire.