July 27, 2011
A Guest Post by NAKED WITH SOCKS ON
The year was 1998. The spot? Miami. My boys and I came down for Spring Break and we were in a club called Amnesia or something like that—I forget. But that’s where I saw her for the first time standing by the bar.
Brianna looked something like this
Her skin looked honey glazed from being in the Florida sun all day. She was dressed in all pink: From her form fitting Prada skirt and matching top to her strapless Moschino sandals. Her hair was cut short, real short. Almost like a little Caesar or something. Point is, she was sexy as all hell.
From the way she carried herself I could tell she was older. Her nails were done up on some silk wrap shit, not those $5 Lee Press Ons girls around the way be wearing. She knew how to put on makeup, too. Her eye shadow and lipstick wasn’t caked on her face. Her shit was more subtle and way more sexy.
Nervous and unsure, I approached her. Clearing my throat, I began, “Excuse me, miss. Can I buy you a drink?”
She turned, sized me up and responded, “How old are you?”
Out of reflex or fear I blurted 26. I was actually 21, but hopefully the club was dark enough that I could get away with a little white lie.
Slightly hesitant, she huffed, “I’m trying to order a Chocolate Martini but the bartender’s trippin’.”
I saw that as my moment to take charge. Positioning myself alongside the bar, I flagging down the bartender and ordered a pair of drinks before turning to her, “I’m sorry, but I didn’t catch your name.”
“Hi, my name’s Anslem.”
After the standard repetitions of my name, she finally pronounced it right (An-Suh-Lem) and smiled. “That’s a beautiful name. What does it mean?”
“It suits you.”
Once the drinks arrived I tried to floss by leaving a $10 tip. Nonchalantly taking’ my glass of Henny and Coke to my mouth, I sipped in true playa fashion or so I thought. It must’ve gone down the wrong way or something because as soon as the drink hit my throat I started choking. I was embarrassed and Brianna knew it. Stroking my ego, she took my hand and led me to the dance floor. Song after song, we stayed glued to each other the entire night. Few words were said, but there was an obvious attraction.
Before we knew it, it was three o’clock in the morning and we decided to go outside to get some fresh air. It started raining shortly after we got outside. Since my hotel was only a few blocks away, I suggested we run back to my room. (I still can’t believe she agreed!)
Sitting on the edge of my bed, Brianna slipped off her sandals and mumbled something about the color of her toenails not matching a blue outfit she bought earlier. She wasn’t talking to me, more so to herself. I offered to paint her nails.
“That’s cute,” she laughed, but I was serious.
It was like a dream come true. I had a woman six years my elder in my room and here I was walking down the Miami strip at four in the morning in search of nail polish. I came across a 24-hour Walgreens. You should have seen the look the cashier gave me when I placed a box of condoms, polish remover and a bottle of baby blue nail polish on the counter.
When I got back to my room, I was surprised to find candles everywhere. I don’t know where Brianna got ‘em from, but that added touch let me know she was official. I heard singing coming from the bathroom and stepped in. It was dark, except for two burning candles creating a silhouette of Brianna’s form against the curtain. Standing in the doorway, I watched as she lathered up, pausing for a moment at her breasts.
“Are you coming in,” she asked, breaking the silence.
Anxiously, I slipped off my clothes and stepped into the shower. Taking the washcloth from Brianna, I gently worked my hands across her wet body. She willingly returned the favor before we toweled off and headed to the bedroom.
Completely naked, Brianna laid back on the bed and her thick hips sunk into the mattress. She flinched as I took her foot in my hand. She was ticklish. Opening the bottle of nail polish, I dipped the brush into the blue liquid and began painting her nails. Honestly, I had no idea what I was doing. In fact, I jacked her nails up, especially when I got to her pinky toes and the polish spilled onto her skin. Brianna, though, was caught up in the moment. She just smiled.
That night I made love for the first time. I’m not saying that Brianna was my first or that I was in love with her, but before her, I thought sex was about how hard, deep and fast you could fuck. I tried that and she immediately stopped me.
Gently grabbing the nape of my neck, she led my face to the center of her hips. As soon as I tasted her, my mouth salivated in anticipation of the next sip. Our hands and mouths explored each other several times over. This was the warm-up, what she called “30 minutes of foreplay.”
Our synchronized gyrations continued endlessly until Brianna told me to open my eyes. I was about to climax. My normal reaction was to keep my eyes closed. “Open your eyes,” she demanded, riding me harder with each thrust. I did and looked helplessly into her eyes. I was cummin’. My eyelids were getting heavy. Brianna ordered them open again. Unable to contain myself, I looked up at her and… exploded.
It was the most intense feeling I had ever experienced in my life. We climaxed at the same time. Her juices flowed onto my stomach and I clenched her waist, easing myself deeper inside.
Drenched in sweat and parched, I headed to the sink to splash some water on my face. I returned with a glass of water and offered it to Brianna. Her full lips enveloped a portion of the glass as she quietly swallowed each drop. With her head nestled in my chest and my arms blanketing her, I kissed her and we slowly drifted off to sleep.
I awoke the next morning to find that Brianna was gone. For a second, I thought it was all a dream, but the heavy scent of sex was still in the air. At first I was confused but then realized what she had done. A devilish grin filled my face as I looked down at my feet and saw that the woman who had taught me the art of making love had painted my toenails baby blue.