had the power to make him feel alive, if only until sunrise. Damn shame how sunrise highlighted those problems again.
She got me through some rough nights.
Last night was rough for me. I was glad she called me back right after I was finished dealing with the lion and the jackal. After that phone call with Lisa, I needed a safe place to rest.
Panther was in love with a married man. I’d fallen for another man’s wife. The only difference was I had given up my sin and she was hoping for hers to come back.
Panther was cool, a great woman from what I could see, but she wasn’t the kind I’d get serious about. I still had fantasies of some wholesome and trustworthy woman stumbling into my world. Doubt if Panther’s Southern-fried family wanted a divorced felon in their family pictures. Bad boys didn’t make good husbands. And I doubted if a man wanted a wife who went off to the strip mines every night. At some point that would create some problems.
But I liked her. Liked her too much for my own good.
Panther reminded me of my ex-wife. Maybe when I walked into the strip mines to have a drink and saw her, I felt some sort of a needed connection to my past. Not all ghosts were bad.
Panther took me to the futon, took charge and mounted me, closed her eyes tight, bit and sucked her bottom lip, went into a slow ride, whispered, “Too bad sex ain’t a spectator sport.”
“Why you say that?”
“You’re good. Like the way you ... get up on it like you own it.”
“You should’ve met me twenty years ago.”
“When I was in preschool?”
We laughed. Laughter made me flex inside her, she tightened around me all at once. She moved the way she danced. Isolated body parts. Matched my rhythm. Used her hips, moved in sort of a circular motion while moving back and forth. Tightened up like she was doing kegels.
I slapped her backside, rubbed her Sankofa tattoo, squeezed her flesh over and over.
She said, “You are so doggone mannish.”
“You know you like it.”
Her pheromones made me lose control. Made me wanna act like I was in a Lexington Steele video and do some special things to her. Don’t know why we had that kinda chemistry.
She kept talking, swaying and sounding like she’d had two shots of my friend Jack Daniel’s. “Seems like forever since the last time I had sex. I’m tighter than new braids.”
Her sounds spread around the room.
She turned over, got on her knees, ass up high, that heart-shaped backside looking good in the morning light. I rubbed her flesh, ran my fingers over her Sankofa tattoo, held her waist.
“Damn, Driver ... sweet Jesus, sweet Jesus. Driver. That’s. My. Spot.”
Couldn’t count the number of times I’d had sex to see if I could still feel. The same way people hurt themselves to see if they were alive, I fell into the arms of nurturing women. I focused on pleasure instead of pain. For some people sex was the same as self-mutilation, and serial sex could be more anesthetizing than anything. It wasn’t always about lust or getting over. Some of us had to be reminded that we could still feel. Even if it was just in our loins.
“I’m ... coming ... again ... Driver ... you are so hard ... hurts so good ... hurts so good.”
Her left leg trembled and she held on to the sheets. She was intoxicated, in a good place.
“God, you’re hard ... that’s it baby ... ooo yeah ... I feel you ... come for me ... come for me.”
Electricity moved up and down my spine.
“That’s it baby, take this pussy, take this pussy.”
Heaven surrounded me.
“Mmmmmmhhhh. Oooooo. Driver.”
She moaned so sweet. Her hands gripped the sheets, nails dug into the covers. I held her hair, spanked her, bit her, gave her measured strokes. But most of my mind was somewhere else, doing the quick math on my life, not liking the bottom line.
“Get it baby that’s it get it baby Driver mmmmmmm damn mmmhhhh.”
Sweat dripped from my flesh. I grunted over and over. If I had a heart attack on the downstroke and died this morning, I’d die with nothing to show I’d ever lived.
I showered while Panther rested underneath the colorful quilt and soft sheets.
Tiredness heavied my eyes. Lisa wouldn’t leave my mind.
Fifteen thousand in the hole.
I stared at the money scattered on Panther’s dresser.
She moaned. “Nice suit. You’re sexy as hell.”
“Thanks.”
“Dag, Driver. You