Come Share My Love - By Carrie Macon Page 0,2

the dreams he had staring that body. His body ached just seeing her. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe it was just what he wanted to see. He wanted Shyla so bad that he saw her everywhere. In the market, the movie theatre, at his favorite eating place just a mile or so from where he worked, everywhere.

As much as he wanted to he couldn’t go back. They would be long gone by now, anyway. He wondered if they were registered in the same hotel. That would be great.

If that was Shyla, his Shyla, he would have her this week. Maybe getting laid wasn’t such a bad idea after all, as long as the person was Shyla Wilkes.

“I don’t think I’ve had this much fun since college. Essence and I use to go up to the mountains and ski.”

“You and Essence, skied?”

“Yes! At least we tried to ski?” They sat in the small kitchen enjoying breakfast.

“That’s what I thought,” Kemah chuckled lightly.

“We really went just to get away from the city. It was so much fun. People thought we were crazy, getting up early just to have snowball fights and make snowmen with the younger kids.” She laughed. “Hell, when you don’t normally go places, or grew up not going places, you tend to forget how to act when you do get out.”

“Remember that cruise we went on about four years ago?” Shyla nodded. “Now that was fun. All the food we ate, and dancing until the sun came up. I don’t think a day went by that we didn’t dance. We hardly ever slept.”

“I know that’s right,” Shyla said. “I must have gained about fifteen pounds that weekend.” She looked down at her body. “And I’m still trying to get it off.”

“Girl, please,” Kemah waved her remarks away. “You have a body to die for. As long as you have a flat stomach and banging ass hips like we do, we look good. Some men don’t care if a woman has a lot of junk in her trunk or more than a handful to put in his mouth, just as long as he can sample.”

Shyla laughed aloud. “Kee, you are too much.”

“But accurate.” She sat her glass of juice down on the table. “I was out walking on the beach this morning, before you got up and ran into a whole swarm of them. Each one checking out my, extra baggage.” She pointed to her backside. “At least two had the bravery to approach, try talking to me, but wouldn’t you know they were talking here instead of here,” she patted her ample breast and then pointed a finger to her face.

“I know that feeling, all too well.” Shyla shook her head while taking another bite of her croissant.

Kemah stilled her hand. “Oh but you haven’t heard the best part. It was a white guy, fine, had a body to beat all white boy bodies, every inch of him that was uncovered was flawless, no scares, no bruises, no hair on the chest no nicks or cuts on the face, legs as smooth as silk, flawless. Not one man in Hollywood could touch him, I tell you he had it going on. Until,” she dropped her butter knife in her plate, “he opened his damn mouth.”

Shyla laughed. “What did the moron say?”

Kemah rolled her eyes. “Hey, Shawty, looking good. Can I get into some of you? My face fell; I thought I was going to be sick. I was absolutely speechless. Dude was coming on strong, trying to sound down, his buddies was egging him on and I guess because I was still standing there that he thought it was an invitation to keep talking.” She rolled her eyes. “And then the little cretin asked me were they real.”

“I hope you slapped the taste from his damn mouth,” Shyla said annoyed. “I know I would have.”

She scrunched up her face and shook her head, no. “I said all 44F inches of them. His mouth began to water. I know because he wiped his hand across it before he said anything else.”

“Then stupid said, “Damn baby, I’d like to wrap my tongue around those. Would you like to breast feed me, baby? I stood there with my hands folded across my chest. Then he touched me. He touched me, girl,” she said excitedly but not in a good way. “Now you know I don’t like anyone to touch me that I didn’t invite to touch me.”

“Shyla he dropped my hands to