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One Moment Leads to Another Few…

Ain’t this what you came for?

Don’t you wish you came more?

Girl what you playing for?

John Legend must know you too!

There you stood, in the fading moonlight, ashamed at the body three kids made. There I was, across the room, proud at the only gift my daddy gave me. Our conversation was barely audible over your sister’s snoring creeping through the walls from my living room, as we discussed your unwillingness to do anything besides missionary, a conversation we’d had a few times over six or seven years.

Let me rewind…

We noticed one another often at our job way back when; me, barely old enough to buy a drink, you a year earlier with a five year old daughter. Yet and still, you made your intentions known to my play-aunt at the Christmas party, even though you knew I was seeing at least two other women in the building, one in your department and I had a girlfriend. I guess it was an even exchange, being that you were sporting his intentions on your left hand. The first moment we were alone, it was obvious I was drawn to you. We had conversations, we had lunch, we shared smiles and ideas of being alone with one another, but you were off to South Carolina before anything more could happen.

Fast forward three years…

You returned from Down South minus the ring but plus one kid and there you were in your bra and panties ready to make good on wishes from three years prior. As your sister slept off that night’s party we began what would become a ritual in which I became your after-party. The truth is, I was pretty bored that first night, but chalked it up to our first experience. However, after the 2nd, 5th, 7th time, I realized that this was just you. So, even though you always seemed to catch me on nights when I was just chillin’, it really wasn’t worth my effort to make sure you got what you needed. A little too much vodka and a little too little variety in our trysts led to a discussion which ended after I blurted out that your ex cheated on you because you wouldn’t give him head, get on top or let him hit from the back.

Another four years later…

In the four years since I saw you last, you went back to the other guy, had another baby, he left again and now you’re living in the projects five minutes from my latest place of residence. A Facebook message here and there and a sighting while I’m out with co-workers from a different gig and here we are again, bumpin’ and grindin’, well, I’m humpin’ away as you lay there refusing any alteration to the process. We’re back to square one, you dropping by my house after a night out with your sister and she’s either in the car or on my couch sleep as I allow you to escape the doldrums of your life for a few minutes, but it’s just not working for me.

From that spot, in the shadow of last night, you promise that you’ll try to be a little more adventurous. Moments later, you refuse to touch yourself or even touch me, I turn you around and you’re rhythmless, I’m exasperated. I finish before I finish and notice that the snoring has stopped and the bedroom door is open; your sister has been watching the pathetic final minutes of our relationship and even as she encouraged you to throw that ass, you scurried to find the comforter. That was the sum of our situation, you hiding beneath a comforter, leaving me on display for your sister.

By the way, she and I started our own situation the following the nigh and she knows how to throw her ass!

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