Domino Effect

Acha

Rochester, NY [19th Ward]

"My mind is a weapon

And my body is a battlefield

And my body is a battlefield

And I know my soul's intentions

To know what is, to know what's real

I don't need armor

I'm more than brave

Gotta go harder

I will not be a slave, ah

Head above water

So many waves

I am not son or daughter

No label, no name"

-Iniko

I see my stop coming up, so I stand slightly to reach up and pull the string to stop the RTS bus. I pause the music video, but I leave my airpods in my ears. I like to be aware of my surroundings whenever I am out walking, but I like to keep the airpods in, so people are less likely to engage me. If someone tries to talk to me, I can pretend like I didn't hear them. I'm not trying to deliberately be antisocial, but it is what it is. I'm tired and I got homework to do.

If it was just homework for my business major, then I wouldn't be bellyaching about it. As it is, it's my Biology course that I am taking to appease my mother, who is a registered nurse. According to her, there's no career in business. She believes business is a hit or miss career, and she rather I focus on something like nursing. "The world will always need a nurse," my mom says every chance she gets. So, to placate her, I am taking some courses that can count towards the required prerequisites for the nursing program. Do I intend on pursuing that path? Not at all. What she doesn't know, won't hurt her though. I love her and respect how hard she works. Both her and my dad, with their combined income, live a comfortable lifestyle. They are homeowners, go on vacations when they have the time, and we all have cars, which is great and all, but their long hours leave them constantly tired.

Speaking of cars, I haven't heard back from the dealership yet about my Chevy Equinox. There's apparently a recall on my model that I took in to be fixed. They offered a replacement rental vehicle that I could use, for free, while they worked on it. I have it at home, parked in our driveway, because I didn't want to risk a ticket at the university for parking without a permit for that particular vehicle. My college is weird like that. I can easily afford the ticket but it's the principle. I have a permit for the whole semester, but they were asking me to pay for a temporary pass for the rental, which infuriated me at the injustice of it all. Hopefully, my car will be ready tomorrow.

I walk down the busy street, turning right onto my street, eyeballing the Family Dollar store as I do. I am a bit hungry and am tempted to go in there and buy myself some snacks, but I vote against it. I'm considered a thick girl, not chunky or fat, but I love my shape the way it is. If you look at me, you might think otherwise by the way I dress. I'm not insecure or anything, but I am a bit shy. I wear bulky clothes that hide my shape, which is not the reason behind my wardrobe choice, but I love how comfortable they feel on me. I am confident in my skin, but I do not like the attention that I get when I wear form fitting clothing. The attention makes me squirm, not because I feel they might be critical of my appearance, but I worry that my lack of experience will shine through under their wandering gaze. Right now, with my glasses and frumpy clothes, I get away with being invisible to most. 

That's how I like it. Most of the time. Of course, if there's anyone I wish would see me, or at least appreciate me for me, doesn't even know who I am. I can't really hold it against him though. It's not like I ever talked to him personally. Plus, he is a good student who pays attention to the teacher, so it makes sense that he has no clue how I feel about him. Brandon Johnson.  His name is so basic. So regular and cliche for a young, black man. But he is anything but basic or regular or cliche at that. He's got this beautiful chocolate skin that looks like it would melt right in your mouth.  His long, dark dreads sit a little past his shoulders, although he usually wears it pulled back. He has a full beard that he keeps low and well-groomed, full lips with a slightly larger lower lip, and a mouth full of perfect teeth. His eyes are dark and seem to twinkle whenever he smiles. His voice is ridiculously deep. Every time he speaks in front of the class, I feel a shiver run down my spine. 

I imagine his voice, saying all this delicious and dirty things in my ear, whenever I go home to fantasize about him. Before my crush on him, most of my crushes were book boyfriends, celebrities like Idris Alba, and there was a son of my mom's friend. That guy, Jordan Welch, ended up being such a disappointment. He is a handsome guy, but his inability to think for himself was such a turn off. To think I almost gave my virginity to him.

Sometimes, I wish I did, but I know I made the right decision whenever I think about Brandon. Would he appreciate me more when he found out that I saved myself. Most women at my age, having just turned nineteen last month in May, cannot say that they are still virgins. It's not something I set out to do, nor am I strictly opposed to losing it, but it just never happened for me. I have all these wild fantasies. I read a lot of romance and I can't deny it; I am curious to see if the real thing is as good as the stuff I read about. Will a guy's tongue feel as good as my rose? Can he suck and lick at the same time. Will I be able to come from penetration like the women in my books? 

I picture Brandon dominating me, using his hand as a necklace around my neck, as he punishes me brutally with long, hard thrusts. Then, he will look me dead in the eye and say, "Come, baby girl," in that deep, sexy voice and I will shatter so hard for him before I lose consciousness. Then, he will wake me with his head in between my legs, moaning and praising me for how good I taste. He will make me come on his tongue before he slides up my bottom, settle in between my legs, and take me even harder than before. 

I lose myself in this fantasy, walking on autopilot, so it's no wonder I almost run into some guy walking towards me. I notice him last minute, managing to shift out of his way, but not before I see the way he checks me out. I blush a bit at the way his eyes linger on my camel toe. Today, I decided to put on these new leggings that are super soft, topped with a loose off-the-shoulder shirt. It's not a sexy outfit, but a bit more fitted than my usual attire, and I didn't realize until I went to the bathroom at school that the area between my legs is very visible. I learned very quickly that men seem to like that. 

"Hey mami, where you heading?" See, I know I'm light skinned, but I don't think that's why he called me "mami." I know most in the Latino culture do the whole "papi" and "mami" stuff, which is cool, but this dude only saying that, and I could be wrong about this, because he has 'mommy' issues. Or maybe he looking to make me into his baby mama. It's not cute and I am not interested. 

So, instead of responding to him, I keep walking and pretend that I didn't hear him. I keep my gaze forward, not bothering with looking his way, but I can still see his profile in my peripheral vision. He stopped moving and is now looking at my butt. "Damn, mami. Don't be like that. Can't you see a man here starving?"

What the fuck? Is he talking about what I think he talking about. I keep walking.

"Just let me taste it. Let me sniff it." I hear him breathe in deeply.

Yup, he definitely is talking about that. I'm curious about it, what it would feel like, but I would never let some stranger do it. Especially one who blatantly propositions me without receiving one word from me, literally.

Be that as it may, this whole exchange did set something in motion, deep inside of me. I start walking faster. I have a rose waiting at home for me. I'm coming for you Brandon.