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uzumaki-rebellion · 6 years

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Black Boys Bloom Thorns First (Chapter 8)

Chapter 8

"You don't know babe When you hold me And kiss me slowly It's the sweetest thing And it don't change If I had it my way You would know that you are

You're the coffee that I need in the morning You're my sunshine in the rain when it's pouring Won't you give yourself to me Give it all…"

"Best Part" Daniel Caesar & H.E.R.

The official edict from N'Jobu's parents regarding his getting around the city was that he was never to take public transportation. When he attended the London School of Economics during undergrad, two Dora Milaje were assigned to tail him at all times and put a dent in his social life. He wanted things to be different while he was in the U.S. and insisted that he did not need the Dora Milaje to babysit him.

His imported BMW had been retrofitted in Wakanda to have the latest surveillance and protection tech to keep the Prince safe while he was in America. Bullet-proof, bomb-proof, and laser-proof, the vibranium enhanced automobile could withstand any manner of attack. Even poison gas.

Spending the day with Califia and her friends caused N'Jobu to disobey the edict when he decided to move around with them without the use of his car. Hidden away in his bomber jacket was a light-weight vibranium body shield that he could activate if necessary. Not one time during his first year in California did he ever have to use any weapons to keep himself safe. He kept a low profile, often using fake names in different places to keep off anyone's radar.

It was so refreshing for him to ride the BART system with the group and mingle around regular citizens outside of school. It also meant he could drink a little more and not worry about driving while intoxicated. The sizeable group from the museum voted to go hang out at a popular microbrewery on Haight Street. They arrived in time for Happy Hour and were able to secure several tables that they pushed together near the street-facing window.

N'Jobu sat across from Califia and Soliel who were busy drinking bitter red ales while he took his time savoring a cider Califia had picked out for him to try. It was a ginger-grass cider brew that packed quite a punch. She made sure to have a small carafe of wine available in case the cider wasn't to his liking. His skin felt tingly from the cider, and his brain was buzzing with the conversation and company surrounding him.

He glanced around the table to take in their party: Bakari and Shavonne cozied up next to each other sharing a plate of bacon-wrapped dates with goat cheese. Langston and Rolita tucking into French-fried asparagus and cauliflower. A young man named Reynaldo who appeared to be the youngest of their group and who was carded by the waiter much to the delight of his friends who teased him about his baby face.

Soliel's girlfriend Aunjanue was arguing with Califia and Soliel over a new rap album that dropped online. The three of them shared a meat plate of andouille sausage and currywurst sausage with a side of russet potatoes. N'Jobu picked at his own meal of grilled romaine salad with a heavy dose of bacon vinaigrette. Aunjanue was adamant that her assessment of the album was correct and she was holding court at the table to prove her point.

"The problem is, all of you expect rhyme styles to stay the same. What you all call mumble rap is just a new evolution of the culture," Aunjanue said. She wore a thick topknot of black braids, her dark brown skin having the same reddish tint as Califia. Soliel had her arm around the back of Aunjanue's chair.

"Part of the culture is knowing what a muthafucker is saying," Califia blurted out, causing the entire table to laugh.

"James Brown often sang words that we had no idea what he was saying, but we don't dog him out," Aunjanue leveled at Califia.

"Slow your roll, Aunjanue, James Brown was often doing that Gullah talk, so just because the masses didn't understand it, don't mean people like him didn't. Get on that, Cali," Bakari said pointing at her.

"Gullah?" N'Jobu asked Califia. She took a quick swig of her ale and looked at him.

"My great-grandparents are from Georgia, Geechie country. Um, we're known as Gullah people. They were descended from enslaved Ibo who lived on some of the small islands off the Georgia coast. Their language is a mixture of Ibo, Creole English and a little bit of Muskogee Creek. Native American. They say a lot of James Brown's grunts and groans was Geechie talk."

"Do you know any of it?"

"Me? Nah, that's old-timey talk."

"You should look into learning it, Califia," Rolita said, "my tribe is teaching our young people, but too many of our elders are passing on, so we're losing some things."

"Rolita's people are Yurok. California indigenous." Califia said.

"Ah, yes, Yurok," N'jobu said, pouring himself a glass of cabernet from the carafe.

He was familiar with the more well-known Native American groups. But he had never heard of the Gullah before. Creoles and New Orleans history were more familiar to him. He knew very little about Georgia or Califia's people. But he found it interesting that the Ibo were part of her roots.

"Speaking of my people, please tell me you all are coming out to Alcatraz on Thanksgiving," Rolita said tugging on her two short braids and snacking down on an asparagus stalk.

"I'm going," Soliel said.

"Me too," said Califia reaching for the carafe and pouring herself a half glass of wine.

"You know I'm down," said Bakari scooting back his chair to give Shavonne room to get up. She headed back towards the restrooms in the pub.

"What's happening in Alcatraz? Isn't that an old prison?" N'Jobu asked pouring the rest of the wine into his own glass. He glanced over at Rolita.

"Several different Native American groups get together to do a sunrise celebration instead of recognizing Thanksgiving," Rolita said. "we've been doing this for over forty years now. I would love for you to come with us," Rolita said.

"I will do that," N'Jobu said, pulling out his cell and updating his personal calendar.

"You have to get up early man, the crack of dawn's ass," Bakari said.

Rolita went into a little more detail about the gathering, and as he listened, N'Jobu began to get a clearer picture of Califia's world. Most of her friends were activists of some sort. She also had a very diverse group of friends from all walks of life who were committed to various social justice causes. Everyone seated at the table was a person of color, and N'Jobu wondered if she had any white friends or peers that she associated with. N'Jobu didn't get a sense of animosity towards whiteness or white people from the group, but he was eager to know if their activism precluded having to engage with other white students. The mere thought of that didn't sit with him very well.

His own very selective peer group was just as diverse, but he did have quite a few white schoolmates he engaged within his department at school and in his social life. Also, his major tended to be filled with more white students. He began to think that Califia and her friends self-segregated much to their detriment. An open hand could do more in the world than a closed fist.

Their waiter came by the table again and N'Jobu requested another glass of cider from the jovial brunette who kept filling his side glass of water every chance she got. The conversation moved onto reality TV shows they were keeping up with, and then the movies they wanted to see. He kept his eye on Califia, enjoying her laughter and the soft chiding she gave her friends when they disagreed about things. When she became passionate about a topic, her voice would raise an octave and her eyes would squint as if she were going to use the force of her will to bend them to her side. A couple of times she jabbed her finger into his shoulder to make her point and he savored her touch. He was finishing his second glass of cider when she reached for it and drank the last cool dregs.

"That's not bad," she said, a smear of her lip gloss staining the small glass she still held in her hand.

"Would you like to share another?" he asked. Before she answered, two men outside knocked on the thick glass of the pub staring at them. She placed his glass back near his hand and he watched her gaze at the men entering the pub. Bakari stood up slapping hands and bumping shoulders with both men. One was a tall slender Latino with tats on his arms and wearing an Angels baseball cap. The other was a medium-build black guy with twists in his hair and TV star looks. The black guy and the Latino made their way to the empty seat between N'Jobu and Califia.

"Babe," the black man said kissing Califia's cheek.

"Hey, Xavier," Califia said, looking nowhere in N'Jobu's direction. Greetings went around, and Xavier's friend Julian grabbed another chair from an empty table and further added distance between N'Jobu and Califia.

Xavier was affable, everyone else at the table except for Shavonne knew him, and N'Jobu sensed from Califia's terse expression that something was off in their relationship. Xavier was leaning into her, but her shoulders leaned more towards Soliel.

The pub grew louder as more customers filled the brewery, and there was music playing above the din that made it harder for N'Jobu to keep up with all the conversations that were going on. The only person he wanted to focus on was Califia, but Xavier was making N'Jobu vacillate between staying and leaving the group. He didn't like sitting near her with some other dude hanging off her. His jaw kept getting tight every time Xavier dipped near her face and whispered in her ear.

At one point he caught Soliel's eye, and he thought for a moment that she could see right through his discomfort. N'Jobu checked his cell for the time and was astonished at how late it had gotten. They had been in the pub for over two hours. The sun was setting in a fiery crimson splash outside when the check finally arrived at their table. The group left behind a healthy tip for their server, and once they were all outside, N'Jobu had to stomach Xavier throwing his arm around Califia's shoulder.

"There's a bar down the street that has reggae music tonight. Julian's homie plays the drums. Y'all up for that? Free cover charge," Xavier told everyone.

"Free is enticing," Rolita said throwing a light jacket on.

N'Jobu pulled on his bomber jacket and checked his cell again. Andrea was blowing up his phone.

"Are you interested in checking it out, N'Jobu?" Califia asked. Xavier was looking at N'Jobu, his left arm draped over Califia, his hand dangling near her left breast. N'Jobu wanted to reach over and pull the man's hand and arm away from her. His whole day today had been special because he had time to be around her, share parts of himself with her, got to know how her mind worked when she was excited about something, and now he felt restricted because her man was with them. Her man.

N'Jobu swallowed thickly, shoved his hands in his jacket pockets. He had a light buzz and Califia was staring at him with those cat eyes of hers that took on a sultry look from the rays of the setting sun. She pursed her lips like she was about to say something else and Xavier led her away to lead the pack towards the next hangout spot. Man or no man, N'Jobu needed to be near her. He tagged along despite his misgivings.

###

Califia stood near the back of the bar listening to the reggae band do a fair rendition of "Sun is Shining". She was swaying along with the heavy bass rhythms, Xavier next to her with his fourth beer in his hand. She kept her mouth shut after his third beer, but the fourth one was causing him to act a little sloppy in public. The bar was packed with eager dancing patrons, their little posse bringing in the smattering of color in an otherwise predominately white space. Behind her, N'Jobu sat on a barstool enjoying the vibe and downing a rum and coke. He was only five feet away from her, but she could feel his eyes on her, boring into the back of her head. Xavier had been extra touchy-feely with her in the reggae bar and it made her feel uncomfortable because he was only doing it when N'Jobu was near them.

The first thirty minutes in the bar had been fun, the entire group dancing on the small cement dance floor. N'Jobu had been snagged by a pretty sandy-haired white woman, and Califia enjoyed watching him sway to the loud music. He was actually a pretty good dancer and she catcalled him when the music got good to him and he flashed her his pearly whites and she felt her cheeks raise up higher than usual when she smiled back at him. That's when Xavier caught a whiff of something between them and started fondling her more openly. He wasn't one for public PDA, but Califia's flirty behavior around N'Jobu kicked it up a few notches.

N'Jobu had switched out his dancing partner for a cute black woman with a sexy frohawk, and the live band high-powered through a classic Dawn Penn jam. Califia's arms were casually draped around Xavier's neck as she watched N'Jobu dance and talk to the woman, his hands sliding up and down the woman's back. N'Jobu wasn't wearing his jacket while dancing, and the woman was rubbing her hands up and down his arms.

Xavier spun Califia around and pressed his hands on her shoulders, rubbing his crotch against her ass.

"There it is baby," he said, singing along with the song and dry humping her, "arch that back girl, show these fools how it's done."

Xavier's hands slid down from her shoulders and held her waist, his hips gyrating and thrusting against her. She stepped away from his grip, turning to face him with a rigid smile on her face. She could feel his dick pressing into her stomach when she hugged him.

"Be good," she hissed at him as she tried to ignore the pokes his hardness was giving to her.

Over Xavier's shoulder, she could see N'Jobu watching her, his eyes gone narrow. She gave him a little wave and he nodded at her. She noticed his hands were riding just above his partner's butt and her lips pressed together in a tight grimace when she felt Xavier's hands grabbing and separating her ass cheeks with his hands.

"Baby you feel so good," Xavier murmured. His mouth crashed into her lips while she was still staring at N'Jobu. His kisses were sloppy and over-exaggerated and Califia endured it until the song ended. As the crowd clapped, Califia pushed away from Xavier.

"I'm going to get some water," she said, hurrying away from him.

Now they were standing together and listening to music, Xavier giving harsh whispers in her ear every other minute.

"Why are you tripping tonight?" Xavier asked.

"You are doing a little too much for me."

"Like what?"

"I don't need you molesting me in public."

"Molesting you? You're my woman. We're having fun."

"I'll keep it buck then, you're not holding your liquor and I don't like how you're touching me."

"You crazy."

Xavier walked into the crowd to get closer to the band. Califia drew in a deep breath and released a sigh of relief. The last thing she needed was for Xavier to get loud and make a scene, embarrassing her in front of her friends. She turned around to go back to the bar and found N'Jobu still sitting and watching her.

"Everything okay?"

"Not really."

She sat on the stool next to him and asked for a coke from the bartender.

"Trouble in paradise then?"

"Tuh," she answered. She drank her coke and watched the band. The room was jam-packed to the rafters, she couldn't even see where her people were, not even Xavier.

"The music is very good," he said.

She stared at N'Jobu knowing he was trying to lighten her mood.

"You are a good dancer," she said giving him a sly smile. She saw his eyes relax and it made her feel better.

"You are much better. I like watching you move."

She smiled again.

"You want to dance?" he asked.

"Not right now, if that's okay. I just need to chill for a minute. Xavier's got my pressure up."

N'Jobu nodded, set down his drink and slipped off the stool.

"You don't have to go," Califia said quickly, reaching out and pulling his arm back. She looked at her hand on his arm and pulled away fast. She hadn't meant to grab him. She looked desperate and her face grew warm.

"Sorry," she whispered.

N'Jobu didn't get back on the stool, but he did stand in front of her. He was close enough so that his thighs were touching her knees. He was almost eye level with her.

"What's the problem with you and Xavier?"

Califia tilted her head back and laughed in a way that had a little bite to it.

"Everything," she stammered, and then caught herself with her open honesty. N'Jobu's eyes didn't press her, but they did make her feel safe. She took a long sip of her coke and leaned in closer so N'Jobu could hear her clearly. She was cognizant of the fact that her knees were pressing hard into his thighs at this point. Her head was still a bit foggy with the drinking she did earlier, but she was comfortable.

"Earlier he told me he had bought tickets for us to go to New Orleans for winter break. But I wasn't even sure I wanted to go. I told him that. He was upset that he paid for a ticket I might not use. That's the first thing." She took another sip of coke, "You really don't need to hear this, it's boring," she said.

"No, keep going. It's good to talk things out with other people. I'm a good listener," he said.

His voice had grown deeper, at least that's how it sounded to Califia. His expression was like that of a Priest patiently taking in a confessional with no judgment.

"Xavier is a great dude. He's smart, educated, about to get a bomb ass job-"

"And very good-looking," N'Jobu said smiling at her.

"No doubt. On paper, he is everything a woman is supposed to want. But sometimes I look at him like it's not enough. Like he doesn't get me. He's the longest relationship I've ever been in, but I feel like there might be something else out there better for me. And I feel like shit for thinking that when other women would give their teeth for a man like him."

She shook her head at how easy that flowed from her mouth. She hadn't even said those things to Soliel or Bakari. But here she was giving somewhat intimate details about her boyfriend to a man she had masturbated over. Many times. Jesus be a rock.

"Serah told me to break up with him."

"Why don't you? You aren't happy, right? Just end it."

Califia's chest hitched a bit and she felt the pinpricks of a small tear forming in her right eye.

"I don't want to hurt him," she murmured and the lone tear fell down her cheek. She reached up to wipe her cheek, but N'Jobu already had his left thumb on her face wiping the teardrop away.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that," he said. Califia took in another deep breath and released it. She felt a shudder go through herself. There. She had finally confessed her real reason for not breaking up. She didn't want to hurt Xavier.

"I keep hoping he'll dump me, or we'll have this huge dramatic fight where I can act belligerent and he just tells me he quits, but it never happens. We are in this stalemate. Comfortably numb. I tell myself there has to be someone that's a better fit for me, but I'm scared there won't be, and what if I leave him on a whim and I never find that other person?"

N'Jobu still had his thumb on her cheek.

"You'll never know if you don't let him go, Califia."

"I'm holding him hostage, aren't I?"

N'Jobu only gave her a sad smile.

"I'm such a selfish bitch. I need to make a decision soon."

"I wish you would," he said, his voice gone husky, almost like a command.

Califia stared at N'Jobu. His thumb traced down her face and touched her lips. The sensation of his thumb on her lips tickled and sparked the skin there. She pursed her lips so that the touch felt like a kiss. Another tear formed in her eye.

"You are beautiful when you are angry, you are beautiful when you laugh, and you are even more beautiful when you cry," he said.

"Thank you," she said, unable to think of anything else to say.

"I wish you weren't with him because I really want to kiss you right now," he said.

The strumming in her heart turned into a gallop as his eyes swept down to her lips. The music in the bar was far away, the voices of the other patrons gone mute in her mind. She opened her thighs and pulled him closer to her, holding onto his arms. He rested his forehead on hers and she closed her eyes. She tried to match his steady breathing, but her own breathing was erratic. She could smell the rum on his breath as he let his hands run up her thighs and rest on her hips.

"Califia," he said.

"Say my whole name," she said, still clutching his arms, afraid to move, afraid to escape his warmth.

He chuckled and whispered in her ear, "Califia Stevens." Her toes curled in her heels, and the tingle from his tongue swiping her ear when he spoke her name felt like the fluttering of butterflies. She could probably cum from him just whispering her name over and over.

She pulled her forehead away from his and cradled his neck with her hands.

"Say my name again," she told him.

###

When N'Jobu opened his mouth to speak her name, Califia pressed her lips into his and slipped her tongue inside his mouth. He didn't back away from her. He didn't tell her to stop. Their tongues swirled around trying to find an acceptable rhythm, and when N'Jobu's hands pressed into her lower back, she ceded control of their mouths over to him. Now in control, N'Jobu plundered the heat he found between their lips encouraged to keep his pace by the soft humming he heard deep in her throat. He slowed down to enjoy the wet smacking sounds they gave off. He pulled her closer to the edge of the barstool leaning back just a bit so that she couldn't feel the strain of his cock growing thicker in his pants.

Kissing her deeply, slowly, wetly, he found his mind feverishly trying to gather his wits. Xavier was in the room somewhere, possibly heading back to them, or maybe even her friends would spot them and break up their joining. He had been dying to kiss her all day but felt the opportunity would never happen with Xavier there, but here they were lip-locked, with Califia sucking on his tongue the way he imagined her sucking on his dick.

"Califia, shit," he growled in her mouth, threading his fingers through the back of her bushy hair and yanking hard on it so that she was looking up into his face from the force of his grip.

Her lips were parted and he could see that magical tongue between her teeth. Her eyes were half closed and up close he could see how thick her eyebrows were. He kissed the freckles on her nose, pulled her hair harder and buried his face on the side of her neck, nipping her on a spot just shy of her collarbone.

He started lightly sucking on her neck, enjoying the whimpers spilling from her lips and the quivering from her thighs. He could feel his dick twitching in his pants, probably already spilling sticky beads of pre-cum inside his boxers. He needed to stop or he would be fucking this girl on the barstool and not giving a fuck who was in the room.

He pulled away from her, panting a bit himself and giving up more space between them. No one seemed to be paying attention to them, so he hopped up on his stool and gulped down the last of his rum and coke.

He watched Califia run her fingers on the edges of her lips to fix the last of her ruined lip gloss. She closed her legs and tugged on her top, peeling away the material from the sweat on her upper body.

The girl with the frohawk ambled over to N'Jobu and asked him to dance and he jumped at the chance to get away from Califia, escape the dizzying power she had over him now that she had laid that kiss on him. He didn't even look back to see what her reaction was to his leaving her at the bar. He just needed to escape. And time to think.

He had women all over, and was free to kiss, flirt, fornicate and break hearts if he so desired. All his women were free. But Califia had Xavier. She wasn't free. And as much as he wanted her (in his bed, on his face, sitting on his dick), he was not down for any triangle. After that kiss, he needed to fuck her in every position possible before he left for Wakanda. If she fucked the way she kissed, he was a dead man. And she was worth dying for. Courtney, the girl he was dancing with tried getting his attention. They danced to a song called "Night Nurse", and Courtney was body rolling and smashing her cute ass against his groin, keeping him hard. He looked around to see Califia at the bar with Rolita, Soliel, and Aunjanue. They were having an animated discussion from what he could tell, and he wondered if the conversation was about him.

The band's last set was finished and terrible music replaced it from a D.J. who didn't follow the theme of the reggae vibes but instead blasted the audience with Euro-Pop. He felt his cell vibrate. Checking it he saw that everyone was meeting outside to say goodbye for the night. N'Jobu thanked Courtney for dancing with him and went to retrieve his bomber jacket from coat check.

The others were lingering on the corner away from the bar. Califia was speaking to Xavier in hushed tones, and N'Jobu knew she wouldn't break up with him right then, but he prayed that it would be tonight. He hoped she would do it quickly because there was a fire in his spirit that he didn't think he could suppress for very long.

He prided himself on being respectful, but deep down he knew he could fuck her while she was still with Xavier. If she couldn't break up with him because she was scared, he knew he was willing to do it for her. He was a Prince who had never been denied what he wanted when it came to women. He wanted Califia. Wanted her bad. The way she kissed him told him she wanted him too. He felt empathy for her situation. Xavier was a long-term love that had soured. She needed to uproot the man and make room for N'Jobu. Watching the shaky couple speak to one another bugged the hell out of N'Jobu. Now that he tasted those lips and felt those thighs and hips, he was ready to bulldoze Xavier out of the way in a heartbeat.

"I think you should come home with me."

N'Jobu overheard Califia telling Xavier to go with her. Xavier, a little loopy in the legs was pushing her hands off of him.

"Naw, I'm going to hang out with Julian a little bit. I'll be home later," Xavier slurred, kissing Califia on her cheek.

"We'll be fine, Califia. I'll have him home no later than midnight. He won't turn into a pumpkin, I promise," Julian said waving goodnight to everyone. The two men lumbered off into the night laughing together, and N'Jobu eased his way over to Califia and Bakari.

Hugs were given, goodbyes were shared, and N'Jobu soon found himself walking to a BART station with Bakari and Califia. The ride to Xavier's apartment was mellow. They talked about the band, how good the music was and which pale ale or cider they liked the best.

In no time they were walking Califia up to Xavier's apartment.

"Hey, the Syfy channel is having a Godzilla marathon. You want to make popcorn and watch the next one coming on?" Califia suggested.

"Microwave or hot air?" Bakari asked.

"Hot air, with real butter," Califia said.

"You down?" Bakari asked N'Jobu.

He was. He would get a chance to see where Califia crashed, and spend a little more time with her, even if Bakari was there. The night was still young.

###

Xavier's place was small. The bathroom was inside their bedroom. N'Jobu relieved himself of the last vestiges of liquor in his system. Snacking on fresh popcorn and bottled water, he felt clear-headed and fully hydrated.

Stepping out of the bathroom, he couldn't help but stare at the double bed that Xavier shared with Califia. It was unmade. He pushed thoughts of them together in that space out of his head. She didn't want him anymore. There was no need to harbor any envy towards Xavier. According to Califia, he was a good dude, but not the one for her. On a folding chair near their bed, N'Jobu spotted a pair of skimpy bikini panties and a lace bra. He gritted his teeth. Why did she stay here if she didn't want him? She had a grandmother who had a house and friends with places. Hell, she could stay with him and Bakari.

He stopped his train of thought. Slow down, he told himself. She was a chick he wanted to dick down in the worst way. No need to be thinking roommates and shit. His lust was writing checks he knew his ass couldn't cash. He'd lusted after women before, but he hadn't given thoughts to moving them in. It was just his male ego wilding a bit at seeing where another man fucked Califia. He clenched his fists. She was going to be his soon. Stop tripping.

When he returned to the livingroom, Bakari was still curled up in blankets on a bean bag near a plush maroon couch where Califia was seated. They each had fresh bowls of popcorn. Califia passed N'Jobu his bowl.

"Lots of butter this time," she said. N'Jobu sat next to her, keeping his legs on the floor and away from Califia's legs which were curled on the couch. They got through half of a Godzilla movie on Monster Island when Bakari fell asleep, snoring into the bean bag.

"We should leave," N'Jobu said, staring at Bakari slumped low inside the beanbag, the blanket surrounding him covering his face.

"No rush, Xavier's not coming back tonight. You guys can crash here if you want."

"Your man knows Bakari very well, but he doesn't know me. That will probably not be cool with him."

He saw Califia flinch a bit when he called Xavier her man. He stared at her, glanced at her lips, then looked into her eyes again. He wanted to devour her lips.

"Should we talk about the kiss at the bar?" she asked.

"Only if you want to."

"I do."

He waited for her to speak. She was wearing a long button up Wonder Woman nightshirt and thick wool socks on her feet. Her hair was still blooming all over her head.

"It was wrong of me to do that. Especially since I'm still with someone. I shouldn't have put you in a messy situation."

"I don't care."

Califia blinked at him several times.

"You don't?"

"I like you a lot, Califia. I want to spend time with you. It just so happens you are with someone. As soon as you fix that, I will properly step to you."

Her mouth fell open, then shut, then opened again. N'Jobu reached over into her popcorn bowl, snagged a few buttery kernels and popped them into her mouth.

"I think of you all the time, Califia. And the way you kissed me tonight was…whoa."

She chuckled. He reached out for her hand. She looked down at him, then placed her left hand in his.

"What about you? Do you think of me?" The playful lilt in his voice moved her. He kissed her hand, still waiting for her to answer.

"I do, and I feel so guilty about it."

N'Jobu held up a hand to stop her from negative talk.

"The heart wants what the heart wants. Leave all the bad thoughts you have about your situation behind. People grow apart. It is natural. You say you are worried about not finding someone after you leave him. Who am I to you?"

Bakari snored loudly and shifted in the bean bag, but neither one of them was worried about him listening to their conversation. Once Bakari was knocked out, he was out.

"You don't want to answer me?"

"It's just a lot N'Jobu."

"I understand that. But…who am I to you?"

"Someone I'd like to know better."

"As a friend only?"

"No."

He put his bowl of popcorn on the floor and pulled a tense Califia onto his lap.

"Relax," he said holding her by her waist and legs.

"This is weird for me," she said.

"How so?"

"We've only hung out together a few times, but it feels intense each time. We know nothing about each other. And yet…"

"And yet what?"

She shrugged and hid her face in her hands.

"I don't know. It feels like it did when I was nine and had my first crush."

"I am honored to be your grown-up crush."

Califia giggled.

"Can I kiss you again?" he asked.

She nodded and he lifted up his face and found her lips once more. She wrapped an arm around his shoulder and his left hand held her face. The kissing this time was gentle, still filled with longing and exploration, but N'Jobu wanted to relish the moment without waking up Bakari. He made sure not to nibble or suck too hard on her neck, not wanting to leave love bites for Xavier to see in the morning. When the thought of Xavier crossed through his mind again, he broke from their kiss leaving Califia sighing in frustration.

"Can I touch you?" he asked.

She nodded vigorously, and he kissed her again, licking the outline of her lips and then sucking on her tongue, tasting the salt and butter from their late-night snack. Her nipples had beaded through her nightgown, and N'Jobu reached up and tugged on each one through the cloth. He watched Califia bite back a moan when he touched her, so he tugged harder, looking at the protrusions. He unbuttoned the nightgown down to her belly, freeing her breasts. When he saw them in the glow of the television, he looked up at her face, his fingers pulling on each nipple. She did her best to remain silent, but she bit into her full lips, and the vision of that made him squeeze his eyes shut and shift her ass harder onto his dick.

Califia rotated her hips and ground herself into his lap, feeling the swelling of him push back on her.

"N'Jobu, suck on my nipples…please."

He obliged, his lush lips taking turns wrapping around each ripe nipple, sucking and swirling his tongue at varying speeds. He liked how big her nipples swelled, so he kept alternating his ministrations, sucking on one and tugging on the other, the pulling sensation so intense for her he guessed because she was whimpering up a storm on his lap. She started bouncing on his dick and he let one of her nipples slip from his mouth with a loud pop because it was too much for him. He wanted to play with her pussy, but that was too risky. They were already pushing it with Bakari on the floor covered up and snoring like a banshee.

"Damn," she uttered under her breath, her eyes finally opening back up to stare at him, "I can feel your dick….so…big," she gasped. He shifted her on his lap so that she was facing him, her thighs spread on either side of his hips. He could see and play with her big tits fully as she rocked on him. He didn't want to pull up her nightgown to see her panties. It was enough to have her grinding on him. He held her shoulders and alternated sucking on her tits and fondling them.

"Can I touch you?" she asked.

Holy Bast, he wanted her to. But he couldn't. He could barely contain himself with her jockeying on his lap. He didn't even want to lift up her gown and look at her pussy which had to be soaking her panties.

With his teeth set on edge, he whispered, "No."

The look on her face made him feel horrible like he had stolen a gift from her on Christmas like the Grinch. But then she twisted her bottom lip and bit on it again, and the look of denied pleasure she gave him made his dick jump in his pants and she felt it.

"Califia, sithandwa sam, you have me so turned on, I could cum right now."

"We could go into the bedroom," she said, lifting up. He yanked her back down hard by her hips. She gasped. His eyes narrowed when he looked at her.

"I'm not going into that bedroom with you. When I take you all the way, it will be in my bed. Understand?"

She nodded. The thought of that double bed brought out tight cords in his neck.

"Did you fuck him today?"

Her eyes widened and her mouth parted. But she didn't answer him.

He lifted up her nightgown in the back and slapped her ass hard with a wide-open palm. Her body lurched forward, forcing her to grip his shoulders for balance and she quickly glanced over at Bakari.

"Don't look at him. Look at me. Answer the question. Did you fuck Xavier today?"

He rubbed her full left ass cheek with his right hand, knowing the sting was wearing off, even as his dick swelled bigger from striking her. She took it like a big girl. He slapped her ass again in the same spot. She squeezed her eyelids shut, keeping all sound inside herself. He rubbed her ass tenderly, lifted up the smacked cheek and squeezed it. Damn this girl was too much for him.

"Hit me again and I'll tell you," she snarled at him.

N'Jobu felt his eyebrows raise up on his face. He gave her a nasty smile and struck her other ass cheek twice, hard enough to make her wince and suck on her teeth. He rubbed the tender flesh. Then squeezed both her round globes in his hands. He needed to end this soon.

"Tell me," he whispered. There was a hint of desperation in his voice. She picked up on it and ran with it.

"What if I did?"

She was gyrating on him and he did his best to stay on task, to not shut his eyes and let her dominate him for a while. She was pushing him to his limit. He knew she would, eventually. She started bouncing on him again, learning very quickly that he liked that. Her motion made her titties bounce too, and he sat there watching heaven on his lap. If he didn't get her off of him soon, he was going to nut in his pants. He was too old to have cum in his pants and not inside a woman he wanted. He yanked her by her hair and pulled her face closer to his.

It would be easy to take Bakari home in his car, then drive back to her in his own BMW and fuck the wokeness out of her. But this was not the time and most definitely was not the place. He twisted his fingers in her hair tighter, letting her know she'd better stop playing with him.

"Ow, Jobu…baby," she pleaded. Good God of the worlds. He loved it when she called him that. No one had ever called him Jobu. He was going to countdown and rejoice on the day he finally blew her back out.

"The question," he said.

"Yes. I did. I fucked him. Early this morning. I fucked him."

"Did you enjoy it?"

"Why do you care?"

The corners of his mouth lifted in a wicked smile that made her bite her lip again. He released her hair, unfastened his pants and pulled down his boxers just enough to release his dick that bobbed against his stomach once it was freed. He grabbed her right hand and placed it on his cock. She squeezed it, gripping the swollen head so tight he gritted his teeth to keep from spilling all over her hand.

"This is your dick now. Understand? I don't want you fucking him ever again. You break up with him. I'm not going to rush you, Califia. But this will be waiting for you."

He let her stroke him. His dick was so slick with pre-cum that they both enjoyed the slippery sound of her hand running up and down his shiny length. She leaned in and kissed him while she stroked him.

"This mine?" she whispered in his ear.

"All yours," he said kneading her tits and plucking on her nipples once more.

She stopped playing with his dick and shoved her fingers into her panties.

"Don't you want to touch me here?"

He released her breasts and zipped up his pants. He drew her back in for another wet kiss then pulled away from her.

"When I touch you there and make you cum, you have to be a free woman."

Califia fastened her nightgown.

"You should go then," she said.

Califia shifted in his lap and stood up, grabbing the popcorn bowls and taking them into her kitchen. N'Jobu adjusted his private parts and woke Bakari up from the floor.

"Let's go, Bakari."

It took N'Jobu nearly ten minutes to get Bakari awake and shuffling to find his shoes. N'Jobu took Bakari's car keys from his pocket. Califia was back from the kitchen watching them.

"Do you need some help with him?" she asked N'Jobu.

"I'm awake, I'm awake," Bakari fussed at her.

"I'm driving," N'Jobu said.

"Bet," Bakari said heading out the front door and down the stairs to get to his car.

N'Jobu stood by the open front door facing Califia. She didn't move towards him.

"I meant what I said. I won't rush you," he said.

"Okay."

A new awkwardness permeated the room. They both felt the shift in the air, the change in their interactions weighing heavily on them. She was not his woman, but he had staked a claim on her. Told her directly. She wanted him too, he was sure of that. The ball was in her court. He wouldn't act until she came to him first. For the first time in a long time, Prince N'Jobu Udaku was at the mercy of a woman for affection that he craved like air. He wanted….no, needed, he needed her to give herself to him. No strings. No wounded lover on her mind.

"Goodnight, Califia."

Chapter 9 HERE.

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belauriette · 6 years

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I just read a Black Panther fanfic that was so good, so delicious I don’t even care if a white woman wrote it. And, I mean that shit..LOL

#BlackPanther #fanfic #BlackPantherfanfiction #TChalla #Wakanda #smut

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ao3feed-starker · 6 years

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by yawldee

|The border tribe found a confused woman outside of the Wakanda border and brought her to the palace. Take place a few years after infinity War | {A mixture of the MCU and the Comics}

Check out the original version on wattpad: https://ift.tt/2pT1obq

Words: 139, Chapters: 1/30, Language: English

Fandoms: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Marvel (Comics), Black Panther (2018)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Categories: F/M

Characters: T'Challa (Marvel), Shuri (Marvel), Okoye (Marvel), Dora Milaje, Black Panther, Queen Ramonda

Relationships: T'challa Udaku/O.C

Additional Tags: Black Panther - Freeform, Tchalla - Freeform, Shuri - Freeform, Okoye - Freeform, Dora Milaje - Freeform, Wakanda, Marvel - Freeform, Avengers - Freeform, Blacklove, o.c, Mutants, Africa, Allthestars, blackfanfictions, blackpantherfanfiction, blackreaders, bmbw, chadwickboseman, MarvelComics, sza - Freeform, T'challaudaku

#ao3feed-starker #ao3feed #fanfic #mcu #starker #peterxtony #tonyxpeter #ao3

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omg-itsnadi · 6 years

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Story of my whole fanfiction loving life.

There’s days where there is absolutely NO new BP fan fiction on my dash(which is cool. Writer’s lives matter too)

And then there are days like right now, at 2am when my ass needs to be sleeping, when my dash is the literal holy grail of the perfect amount of Erik smut and M’Baku x reader angsts!!! I need help!!!

#blackpantherfanfiction

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belauriette · 6 years

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Chosen (Part 1)

Summary: N’Jadaka yearns to leave a part of him behind.

Pairing: N’Jadaka x OC (Akoya Boahinmaa)

OC (black, plus size)

No warnings

One shot (maybe 😏)

His POV

  The overwhelming feeling of dread is overshadowing my victory. I have this strong desire to create something, someone. I know this is not truly my home and I don't know who I can trust. I don't know how long I will be able to rule here before T'Challa's supporters take me out. I must leave a piece of me behind. I must hide a part of me in Wakandan soil. It must be groomed. I must do this swiftly. The liberation of my people can not end with me. It must continue through my line. My child will know who I am. It took a long time for me to get here and it's imperative that I cover all bases. No matter what happens tomorrow after I give my orders, I will leave my seed planted here in this foreign land my father called home.

 The women before me represent the possibility of a future. They are all lovely in different ways. I don't necessarily have a particular type. However, I do recognize aura and energy. And, the confidence oozing from the thick one with her midriff showing reminds me of home. I want to grab her just to see how soft she is under my rough edges. I can't stop looking at her as I try to will her to look me in the eyes. I understand not looking me in the eye is probably her attempt to show respect, but I bet she is not this bashful in private. Her dark brown skin glows even under the moonlight seeping through the council room. I can tell she takes care of her appearance. Her ample curves arouse me. Her head wrap hides her hair, but those lips... Enough of this, I know what I want.

 I signal for W'Kabi to come over. I've had enough of the pathetic sobs of loyalty for a man they once called King. I am their King now. W'Kabi and his men escort the grieving women from my presence leaving me alone with her. I wonder if I intimidate her or arouse her as I look her up and down. I walk over to her. She is silent. She doesn't ask what her business is with me in this castle nor does she give me the cold shoulder. I just want to see her eyes. I want her to know my plans and my desires so she can teach my offspring. I want her to know my name.  

Her POV

 The King scans every Wakandan woman brought before him meticulously. He worked from the throne in intense silence which only made all of us extremely nervous. The intensity in his eyes caused a stir of conflict within me. I was afraid but curious. I want to know him intimately even though I know he was the cause for T'Challa's death by ritual combat. Who is he? I try to keep my head down only stealing glances whenever he looks away. Guilt fills my mind forcing me to stop staring. He seems to take extra time studying my appearance. He eventually moves on to inspect the other distraught ladies brought before him. A slight smirk came over his face as if he knew a secret. He signals for W'Kabi. As we stand in wait, the King speaks to W'Kabi in whispers.

 Sobs and whimpers continue to fill the air with the knowledge of T'Challa's untimely death freshly etched in our minds. The tribal markings on his ample chest and hard abs are displayed like a badge of honor. His hair is oiled and braided. He is truly beautiful. His tough exterior seems to be solid through and through. Is he truly Wakandan? I wonder. W'Kabi and his men escort the other ladies out of the council chambers. I'm usually not picked for King service but I guess this King desires something a bit plumper. He slowly walks over to me. My heart is racing. I can feel his energy. As he stays in front of me, I keep my head down. Maybe he will dismiss me too if he sees I'm unresponsive. But, instead he tenderly grazes my cheek and then lifts my head forcing me to face him. He finally breaks the silence.

 "Look at me", he commands. Finally, our eyes meet. The fire in his eyes entices me. "Do you know who I am?"

 "You are the new King." He smiles. I had to smile in kind because it was contagious.

 "I am King N'Jadaka, Son of Prince N'Jobu." He pauses allowing this new knowledge to wash over me. "Say my name." I wonder if this is a serious request until I see him raise an eyebrow waiting to hear it roll off my tongue.

 "King N'Jadaka, how can I be of service to you?"

 "You will find out soon enough."

Part 2 - http://belauriette.tumblr.com/post/174276289298/chosen-part-2

@babygirl-bri

#blackpanther #killmonger #n’jadaka #fanfiction #blackpantherfanfiction #BEWritings

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belauriette · 6 years

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The excessive use of the “N” word in Black Panther fanfiction is a no-no for me. It just makes me cringe. Especially, when a lot of the Black Panther fanfiction is written by faceless people. I’m over it.

#BlackPanther #BlackPantherfanfiction #T'Challa #Killmonger #M'Baku #Wakanda #N'Jadaka #fanfiction #fiction #marvel

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uzumaki-rebellion · 6 years

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The Most Erik Song Ever

Res’s whole album was a slap back in 2001 (most people slept on her). But “Ice King” was a special bop, and it reminds me of women in fiction who fall for Erik Killmonger. I still luh him tho!

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#Res #Killmonger #blackpanther #uzumakirebellion #BlackBoysBloomThornsFirst #erikkillmonger #njadaka #iceking #blackpantherfanfiction

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eye-raq · 3 years

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This is me. Yes. I am a reaction pic.

#eye raq #erikstevens blackpantherfanfiction blackgirlmagic sex nightlife #blackgirlmagic #blackgirlslay

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belauriette · 5 years

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Black fanfiction writers: Please don’t leave us.

#fanfiction #blackfanfiction #blackfanfictionwriters #blackpantherfanfiction

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eye-raq · 5 years

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Sorry if I never mentioned before.

But for those of you who don’t know my name is Epiphany 💕

I never really formally introduced myself on here lol

#sorry guys #amethyst1993 #killmonger fanfiction #killmonger imagine #black panther #killmonger #love #erikstevens blackpantherfanfiction blackgirlmagic sex nightlife #black girls killin it #black girls

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eye-raq · 6 years

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Pandora’s Box Chapter Two

Erik x Black Original Character

(Erik will be mentioned in Ch 3)

Today the weather decided to change up giving LA it’s normal spring weather of 70 degrees or more. Raven entered her apartment sweaty with a pair of black biker shorts and a black nike sports bra. Her hair was in two buns to keep her freshly washed hair untangled. She heavily breathed as she walked to her fridge to grab a bottle of water. She sat on a stool next to her kitchen island and pulled out her cell phone from her fanny pack and pulled up Siri.

“Siri, call Monica.”

“Calling Monica”

The phone rang twice before picking up

“Hey wassup Rae.”

“Wassup is you giving Ferrah my number yesterday.”

Monica didnt respond right away.

“She said she had relationship advice for you I was desperate, I didnt feel like what the hell I was saying helped you out one bit.”

Raven rubbed at her tacky skin annoyingly before speaking again,

“Its cool I’m kind of glad you did, she talked some sense into my ass- gave it to me straight up. Donovan will be here in about another hour I’m gonna call the whole thing off I’m tired of his mess.”

Raven heard Monica gasp on the other line, “Girl that's what she said? I kind of thought that too but I wasn't sure.”

Raven kissed her teeth shrugging her shoulders,

“Yep just like that, exactly what I needed to-” Knock Knock Knock.

All confidence in Raven faded a little as she heard Donovan at the door already.

“Shit girl I gotta go he’s already here.”

“Good luck you know where I am if you need me.”

That was all Monica said before the line went dead. Raven got up again hearing the three knocks as she walked to the door. Opening it sure enough was Donovan. He had on a pair of dark green joggers and some gray new balance with a white t shirt and his hair freshly cut. Raven stilled her courage to not take in his 6’3 Chocolate body so she moved to the side to allow him to enter. As he brushed pass he pecked her cheek gently noting that it left a pink tinge of a blush. Raven needed to get this done before her courage wore thin. She looked into his deep brown eyes as she closed the door crossing her arms over her chest.

“Don.. where you been? And when I ask that I mean mentally and physically, Like let me know wassup cuz I’m really confused.”

Donovan let out a sigh choosing to sit on the love seat stretching his legs out. He scratched at his waves as if trying to rake his brain. His eyes met yours for a split second but it was as if he didn’t want to stare at you directly. That fucking nervous feeling started up again.

“Shit I've been busy Raven you know that, with this new job taking up most of my time… taking a tole on me.”

Raven walked a bit closer still keeping her stance.

“Your never really home gone maybe two days at a time, come here and you don't even interact with me I mean..? what the fuck Don! I’m over here making a fool of myself trying to get your attention that's obviously somewhere else and on someone else and I’m getting tired of the constant games witchu its hell-”

“Yeah its hell for me too Rae, so let me get this over with; we through baby.”

“Excuse me?”

“We done Rae. I’m not feeling this no more. Its dry and I cant see myself putting up with it anymore honestly.”

Raven felt her chest go tight. She shook her head putting up her hand to stop him in his tracks.

“Nah nigga that's what I called YOU here for. I’m ending this shit because clearly YOU ended it months ago so I don't wanna here that lame ass bullshit coming out your mouth better yet, why don't you get up and bounce homie cuz I deserve better I’m tired Don.”

She hated that her voice began to crack and tears formed in the corners of her eyes. She had a slight tremble and she breathed slow to try and contain but the more he stared nonchalantly the more she began to break.

“yeah well, I guess you are the one that should be saying it.”

Donovan stood from his seat and walked up to Raven he stood his ground for a few seconds before walking pass her to the door. In that moment Raven felt it appropriate to let the tears finally fall. She let out a little whimper that she hoped Donovan didn't hear.

“My things are already gone. I came to get them last night before you came home. Hope things go well for you Rae...Honest.”

next thing she knew the door opened behind her and Donovan exited the apartment letting the door close with a soft click. Like clockwork, Raven fell to her knees and cried out, wrapping her arms around her waist to ease the pain (oh God I didn't know it would hurt that much).

The day eased by quickly, so Raven seemed as she was on again off again sleeping. She picked up her cellphone from her night stand and read that it was 7:30 pm (Fuck). Lifting herself from the bed she walked over to her floor mirror to admire herself, and boy was she a mess. Hair semi dry after she took down her buns, a frizzy mess. Her college t shirt draped over her body and some fuzzy socks. Her eyes were red rimmed and puffy from crying herself to sleep at least 4 times. Maybe that's what she needed though, because the pain eased up again and she started feeling more like herself. Raven went to the bathroom and began doing her hair deciding to style it in a wash and go because it was quicker. Half way through styling her hair she heard her phone rang from her room. Dropping her hands Raven walked over to her bed to pick up her phone. Ferrah’s number was there and she made a mental note to save it in.

“Hey Ferrah wassup?”

“Hey.. Monica told me. Are you alright?”

Raven walked back to her bathroom putting her phone on speaker so she could finish her hair.

“Yeah I’m better, had to rid my body of the many buckets of fucking tears but I’ll pull through.”

“One less lame nigga to worry about.” Spoke Ferrah knowingly. “you still on for tonight though right?”

Raven shrugged her shoulders focusing on a section of hair that was tangled at the root.

“Yeah I’m still down I’m almost done my hair then I’ll figure out what I’m putting on.”

“I was thinking maybe I could come over, you know and help you with that? Plus I can drive to the spot.”

Raven figured that was okay giving Ferrah her address before hanging up the phone. It took about 20 minutes for Ferrah to show up. She opened her arms to give Raven a hug that Raven accepted and both girls walked back to the bed room. Ferrah walked straight to the closet so familiar while Raven sat and admired Ferrah’s outfit. One things for sure Ferrah had a banging body. She had deep chocolate skin that seemed to glisten like she had on body glow. She wore a tight red lacy slip dress with black pumps and a leather jacket with a black leather cross body bag. Her braids had silver hair accessories on it and lets just say she radiated black girl magic.

“Hmmm I think I found something little, black, and sexy to compliment your caramel skin..”

Ferrah pulled out a black mini dress from the back of Ravens closet with a low cut back. Digging lower she found some black pumps as well.

“You should do this, it would hug your curves.”

Ferrah handed Raven the dress and she took it with her towards the bathroom.

“Girl you can get dressed here I don't bite, trust me were girls what I got you got.” responded Ferrah with a soft chuckle before walking towards the mirror to give herself a once over.

You smiled playfully shaking your head as you walked back to the room and began undressing. You took your shirt off feeling exposed instantly since you wore nothing under. You took the dress and slipped in turning slightly noticing Ferrah eyeing you from the mirror. You faintly smiled turning back noting to yourself that maybe Ferrah liked girls too. The rest of the prep was quick since you wore little to no make up deciding for just lipstick and mascara, Ferrah commenting that you had natural beauty and you didn’t need it anyway. The ride was smooth with Travis Scott booming in on the radio. You let the window of her car down a little to let some breeze in. You wondered where you were going but you decided not to ask, it made it even better. About 20 minutes later you both pull onto a side street on a hilltop overseeing Oakland. Getting out of the car you watched as Ferrah began walking forward so you followed closely behind. Not too far you come up on a little complex building faintly hearing the sound of low husky music. You look around noting that this was an okay part of Oakland before staring forward. A tall Bouncer dawned in all black from his shades to his shoes stood outside the door peering over at you and Ferrah. Ferrah suddenly turned to you causing you to bump into her a little, she spoke low

“Now there are some things you need to know about this club before we enter. I decided to bring you here first to tell you because I figured you’d go in anyway.”

Raven stared into Ferrah’s eyes with sudden nervousness.

“This place is called the Pandora’s Box. Its not known to many, but beyond those doors lie a world not like you have seen I’m sure- maybe heard of, but not experienced.”

Raven gulped and peeked at the entrance before staring back at Ferrah.

“When we enter you will be asked what are you looking for? You say im looking for paradise...then they will ask you is this what you seek? You tell them yes.”

Raven didn't know what she was getting herself into here but the nervous feeling finally set in and she began to wonder if this was a good idea. Ferrah noticed and rubbed comforting circles on her forearm.

“It’s okay Rae. Trust me, I’m sure.. this may be something you need.”

Raven stared at the entrance then back at Ferrah before grabbing the girls hand that she only met yesterday and continued walking to the entrance. The bouncer held open the tinted doors allowing both ladies to enter. As they walked pass they came across a narrow hallway with walls draped in purple velvet it seemed. It smelled of incents and vanilla candles giving off a romantic vibe. Raven was definetly thoroughly confused at this point looking around her surroundings. As she looked forward she noticed the absence of Ferrah looking behind and in front of her finally coming to the conclusion that she had already entered. Straight ahead was a Man standing off to the side peering between a set of black velvet curtains with a lit cigarette in his had. He took a long drag before turning to Raven eyeing her up and down intently. Raven turned away from his intimidating stare before timidly stepping closer (well this is the moment of truth).

@thehonorablekingerik @bartierbakarimobisson @killmongurl

#black panther #erikstevens blackpantherfanfiction blackgirlmagic sex nightlife

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uzumaki-rebellion · 6 years

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Black Boys Bloom Thorns First (Chapter 11)

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"I put a spell on you

Because you're mine

You're mine Mine I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you anyhow And I don't care If you don't want me I'm yours right now I'm yours right now"

Alice Smith re-make—"I Put a Spell on You"

N'Jobu parked his car across the street from Xavier's small apartment complex. He saw Califia's bike sitting in a carport in front of the units. He waited a few minutes to get his bearings and called her number again through his car. She picked up after the fourth ring.

"Hey," she said, her voice airy and light.

"You made it to your destination."

"Yeah. I told you I could handle a little rain."

"True."

"I appreciate your concern though. Are you still driving home?"

"No. Actually, I am right outside."

"Outside?"

He heard her moving around inside the apartment through the phone and then the front door opened. She walked out onto the top of the stairs and looked towards the street. N'Jobu stepped out of his car and walked towards the apartment building. He watched Califia ease her way down the stairs.

He met her at the bottom step and she had a slight grin on her face.

"You were able to catch up."

"Something like that."

His eyes glanced up at the open door of the apartment.

"Why are you here?"

Her eyes went downcast as she fidgeted the toes of her bare feet on the step.

"Xavier went to San Diego for the weekend with his friends. I have some relatives who are staying over at my grandmother's and I really don't want to be around them the next two days, so I'm crashing here so I can study in peace."

Her eyes searched his and he tried to act as if it didn't bother him, but it did.

"Are you really broken up, or is this a trial separation?"

"We are not together. He knows I'm here. After Sunday, I'm leaving the key and I'll be at my grandmother's."

He didn't like her being there. It didn't matter if Xavier was gone. She was still here, in his space. Their energy together would still be surrounding her. She would be sleeping in his bed.

He didn't have the right to be upset that she was here, but he was feeling a particular way. A new sensation actually. He was feeling jealous. Something he had never been before. It was a cold prickly sensation, this idea of possibly losing her to someone else, someone unworthy. In his heart, he felt like she was his, and even the specter of Xavier hovering in her consciousness was making him queasy inside. It also made him feel weak, something he could never be.

"I want to go out with you."

He wanted to kick himself, that was not the smoothest line to give her as his words came out in a needy rush. But she gave him a beatific smile and his heart snapped back into a place of ease.

"When?" she asked.

Califia's eyes crinkled with such a look of bliss that N'Jobu wanted to hug her. His conversation with Bakari about her life swirled inside his head. Her trying to hold a world together for her father, an estranged mother thousands of miles away, and her sense of responsibility towards others must be overwhelming. Where did she go to find comfort for herself? Snatch a little happiness for herself?

He felt his eyes soften as he took in her face. He sauntered closer to her, the step she was perched on made them stand eye to eye. Xavier was not here. She wanted to study alone and away from distractions. She deserved this peace, not his secret irrational jealousy.

"You have a lot going on and I can be flexible for you. Tell me when and—"

"Next Saturday, after my performance. Show starts at seven and ends around nine. Come see me dance and we can go eat afterward. I know a spot that stays open late. If that's okay with you."

"That is excellent with me….oh, wait. I apologize, I made plans for next Saturday. How about Sunday?"

"That will work. Same deal. Dinner after the show."

"Okay, next Sunday."

She blinked and closed her eyes, touching her eyelashes.

"I just got hit with a raindrop," she said, rubbing her eye.

More heavy sprinkling fell around them, and N'Jobu wiped her eye for her then held her face in his hand.

"You are something else, Califia," he said.

Her head tilted to the side a bit and she touched his hand with her own.

"So are you."

He went for it, pressing his lips to hers, closing his eyes and only wanting her in his arms. The warmth of their kiss bloomed into a sweet tangling of full lips, raindrops, teasing tongues, gentle sighs of contentment, and a yearning for more. His arms swept down to surround her waist as her hands curled around his neck.

Sweet turned into savory, and savory became sensual as N'Jobu released her lips and dipped the tip of his tongue into the sensitive curve of Califia's ear. He liked how she responded by arching her neck and soon his tongue was tracing the skin there and then nipping at it with teasing bites. More water fell from the sky but they didn't care about it. Califia sucked in a breath between her teeth when he began nibbling on her neck. He was going to leave a mark on purpose this time, claiming her with his love bites.

She pulled his face away from her neck just so she could look into his eyes again. What he saw reflected back to his own eyes were all the things he was feeling in that moment; the excitement of being with someone new, someone who turned on his mind as much as his body.

"You better go inside. I'll call you," he said. She nodded but kissed him again, this time holding his face with her hands, her tongue seeking out his. His hands reached down and squeezed her ass. He heard and felt her gasp inside his mouth and he took that opportunity to push her into him. Her body writhed against his and that was his signal to stop.

"Go in before you get us in trouble out here, girl."

She pouted and nipped at his lips with her teeth, causing him to groan a tiny bit. She started sucking on his bottom lip and that's when he slapped her ass. She released his lip and her head dropped onto his shoulder and he felt her body shudder. They were both damp from the slight precipitation.

"Slap my ass again, baby," her throaty voice made him glance around the apartment complex and the street. No one was around, and it was past midnight. It was just them and the light rain. With her pressed into him, he used his right hand to slap both her ass cheeks. Her mouth was jammed into his shoulder suppressing an intense squeal. He rubbed both ass cheeks with wide gentle circles. Her thin leggings were soaked and he allowed his hand to squeeze the cleft of her right ass cheek. He whispered in her ear.

"You have to let me know when to stop if it gets to be too much, use a word to let me know."

"Just spank me, I'll let you know."

"No, you have to give me a safe word. I'm serious. Any word."

Both his hands traced her plump behind, rubbing, squeezing, and lifting up the cheeks.

"Red."

Red was easy. Basic.

Califia poked out her behind a bit, still leaning her head into his shoulder. He took his right hand and rubbed her left cheek again. He could feel her tensing up, waiting for the sharp pain to come. He gave it to her, spanking each cheek rhythmically, allowing space between each hard slap to rub, knead, and soothe her. She bit into his jacket, using all the power she could muster to keep from crying out to the entire neighborhood.

They created a satisfying pattern of spanking and nurturing, and he couldn't believe she had him outside in the middle of the night, on her ex-boyfriend's apartment steps letting him do this to her for nearly twenty minutes. He kept the spanking at a beginner's level for her with an occasional shock of intense contact. When that happened, she would gasp into his ear and say "Bay-beeee," with such carnal longing that it made his knees shake.

"You like this?" he asked, the unsated hunger in his voice hard to disguise.

"Yes!"

"Tell me you like it," he hissed into her ear.

"I like it…I like it…bay-beeee…"

"Tell me all this ass is mine…say it!"

"It's all yours, it's all yours…"

"You like having this fat ass spanked, huh?'

"Yes! Don't stop…huhnnnn…don't stop!"

He checked in with her after every third slap, and at one point he tilted her head back to look at her face. Her eyes were on the cusp of going unfocused. He decided to stop. It was enough for her even without her saying "red". He hugged Califia tight, holding up all her weight for her, allowing her to rest and regain her own physical bearings again.

"How are you feeling now?"

"Good. I feel like I'm drunk to be honest."

The rain had become a light sprinkle once more. She threw her arms around his neck, pressing her wet face against his once more.

"I feel, …I feel hot all over…but the rain is cooling me at the same time. It feels really good. Next time, I want you to go harder."

"You're killing me," he whispered in her ear.

She kissed him again, licking his lips, sucking the tip of his tongue, and giving light scratches to the back of his neck with her fingernails. They weren't fancy French tipped wonders like Serah's, but the way she had him purring was good enough in her book.

"Can you walk up the steps by yourself?"

"Yeah, I can."

He pulled away from her.

"Go," he said, pushing her back up the steps.

She held onto the railing and made exaggerated lunges up the steps, flexing her butt just to tease him.

"Goodnight, N'Jobu," she said at the top of the stairs.

"Goodnight, Califia."

She closed the door. Once she was gone, N'Jobu tumbled back away from the steps.

"Whoo, shit," he mumbled, staring back up at the apartment. He started laughing as he walked across the street, taken by surprise at what just transpired.

When he got inside his car it was the first time he noticed how tight his erection was in his pants. He had been so focused on Califia and the pleasure she received just listening to her being spanked that he had lost track of his own physical sensations, even the rainwater that drenched his clothes and face. His cell phone vibrated and he picked it up. Califia had sent him something. He swiped his phone and his eyes almost fell out of their sockets. She had texted him a picture of herself bent at the waist, her leggings and panties pulled down to her knees with her butt thrust out. There were deep red marks on both round cheeks. He tapped the photo to make it bigger just to make sure, and yes, he could see it, the delicate curve of her vulva.

Look what you did, lol!

He read the text again and then stared at the picture.

"Damn, baby," he said. He couldn't wait to get back home. He needed release right away. Undoing the buttons on his pants and zipping down his fly, he glanced around his car. No one could see him. He reached into his boxers and pulled out a brick hard dick. This girl let him spank her in the rain and sent him proof of his markings on her ass. He made the picture even bigger just to try and catch a better glimpse of her pussy.

He flicked his thumb over the head of his cock and imagined lining himself up against her opening. He would have one hand on her neck pushing her down, and the other gripping his dick and dragging it up and down on her entrance. Her pussy looked fat and inviting, and he wondered if she realized that her cell camera had taken more than just her reddened backside.

She probably pulled down her stuff and took a quick snap, not even noticing her juicy slit was showing. He bet that she probably had a mean arch, and shit, what would it be like to sink into her while she held her cheeks open with her own hands, letting him pound that ass to shreds?

She told him she wanted him to spank her harder next time, and that's all it took for him to cum in his car, shooting thick ribbons of his seed all over his pants and leather seat.

"Ah dammit!" he moaned, jerking out the last spillage of cum. He reached behind his seat and rummaged inside his gym bag, pulling out a hand towel. He wiped himself and the seat and balled up the towel, stuffing it back inside the gym bag. He started laughing again and looked up towards the apartment. She was probably up there now, legs open and rubbing tight circles on herself. What he wouldn't give to watch her writhing on a bed and calling out his name. Only his name.

He couldn't wait to see her again.

###

All the training, clean eating, late night rehearsals, foot aches, backaches, and no dick came down to this night.

Califia sat on the floor of the theater dressing room stretching out her legs. Other dancers milled around, stretching, checking the tape on their ankles, flexing arms and shoulders, fixing hair and make-up too.

Califia had Soliel braid her hair tight with cowrie shells and gold beads. She had a buttload of costume changes and one of the numbers required her to wear an exaggerated paper mache mask that smelled like musty armpits.

Standing up, Califia flexed her ankles and then rolled her neck and shoulders. The nervous energy was eating her up like it always did before a performance. She ran choreography through her head, especially the final piece she was in. Rolita was chilling in the green room where she would stay and watch the show on a monitor until it was time for her to join Califia onstage where she would sing.

Califia wasn't in the first number and this irritated her because the director changed the order of performances the week before. She always preferred to come out of the box like a thoroughbred in the first dance, releasing pent-up nerves so that she could ease into her natural performance groove. Instead, she would be waiting on deck going stir crazy hanging onto her dance edge.

Most of her friends would catch the show over the first weekend. She made sure to have a ticket ready for N'Jobu at the box office for Sunday's performance.

The stage manager pulled all the dancers together to give last minute info, and then their dance teacher had them say a group prayer. Califia then went to sit with Rolita in the green room.

"How are you?" Rolita asked.

"You know how it is."

"Reese is already here. They'll pull him in after intermission. Layla and Bonnie will be here by eight."

"Cutting it close."

"If they're late, Reese and I can do it alone."

"But it sounds so good when they sing back-up for you."

"I know."

"Don't forget to stay low when I do that last turn, I almost kicked you in the head at dress rehearsal."

"If you kick me, I'll pretend it was part of the choreography."

They both watched the opening number, a slick throwback of 1950's swing dancing in the middle of an old-fashioned civil rights march performed to an old Kendrick Lamar track. The irony of the song was that nothing had really changed even though Lamar's earnest chorus of "It's gonna be alright" boomed throughout the theater. Califia opted not to participate in that number because it involved some dancers playing cops and going after other dancers with batons. There were some tricky onstage costume changes that made the civil rights dancers become modern citizens but the cops stayed the same.

Once Califia saw the cue that it was time for her to be in the wings on deck, she left Rolita to join the next number. She did a short meditation to focus her mind and align her thoughts with her body and the spirit of the entire program. She checked one last time for the security of the straight black wig she had pinned tight to her head. She had another female dancer check the back of the black skirt she wore. It came down to her knees. Her black leotard was brand new, ultra-thin and itchy. She couldn't wait to change out of it.

"Girl, your make-up is on point. Who did your eyes?"

Califia looked over at Patrice, one of the best dancers in their class who was looking all in Califia's face. Califia loved performing with Patrice because that girl made everyone work harder to stay on her level. If Califia considered herself the equivalent of Venus Williams in their group, then Patrice was the Serena Williams hands down.

They both came into the program as eager freshmen trying to gain top dog spots. Both were competitive and both could be petty to one another when they were younger. But there came a point where they both had to concede that each of them had particular skillsets that worked in their favor. Patrice had the better technical skills because Califia came to dance later in her teens. But Califia had personality and passion. Together they were fire.

Califia batted her lashes at Patrice.

"I did it myself."

"Bitch don't lie, Katy did that."

Katy was busy running up and down the line of dancers checking her work.

"Nope Patrice, Califia actually did it herself this time," tossed Katy over her shoulder.

Califia stuck her tongue out at Patrice. Patrice stepped closer to her.

"You ready to do this?" asked Patrice.

Califia held out her pinky finger, and Patrice hooked hers with it, a good luck tradition they had developed over the years.

"Break a titty, hoe," Califia said, and Patrice fell out laughing.

###

The music went on first with a voice-over narration done by a drama student. The music was a salsa-tinged number with funk undertones. The drama student recited a poem by a poet Califia didn't know, but it worked in time to the music, and by the time the stage lights came on and Califia followed Patrice's lead front and center, she already knew that they had kicked the show up a notch.

There were seven dancers in this piece, all women, and all wearing the same long straight wig and black skirts. Califia wasn't sure what aesthetic the wig was bringing, but she had fun swinging around the stringy hair.

The stage lights were blinding, so Califia couldn't see the audience properly, but she knew it was a packed house because she could hear and feel the energy in the room. The music had everyone hyped, and when an audience was hyped, Califia and Patrice would always take their dancing to another level. And right at that moment, Patrice had gone supernova, dragging Califia with her. They swirled their skirts, flipped their fake Becky hair on their Black girl heads and tried their best to gas the other one up by yelling "Aye!" every time one of them rolled their hips with an extra booty dip that was not part of the original choreography.

Halfway through that performance, Califia was actually able to breathe easy, the thoroughbred in her was able to stretch out those legs and run the way she needed to. A man in the audience, probably a person of proud Latino ancestry called out "Más te vale bailar!" Califia hollered back, "Estoy cocinando, Papi Chulo!" and only those who knew Spanish laughed.

When Califia's first performance of the night was done, she knew the rest of the evening would be a breeze. The first hour she had the heavy load of being in several numbers almost back to back. By the intermission she had time to freshen up, change, and check in with Rolita. The backup singers arrived on time and all she had to do now was perform two more background dancer work and then wait for her solo at the end.

###

He didn't see her in the opening number.

N'Jobu sat with Bridgette on the far left of the McKenna theater with a full and eager audience. The restaurant date on the Wharf went well and he was surprised when Bridgette sprung the dance tickets on him. He considered blowing off the tickets and taking Bridgette for a nice drive out of the city, but she was excited about going, and truth be told, he did want to see the opening night to support Califia. He had sent her a text earlier in the day wishing her luck and was bummed when he missed a call from her right before he left for dinner with Bridgette.

Normally he would feel no hesitation about going to a place where he knew another woman he had fooled around with would be, but something in the back of his mind made him feel cautious. Califia would have no idea he was there, but he still had reservations. He kept hearing Bakari's warning in his head.

Bridgette looked amazing in a lavender wrap-around dress and she held his hand in her lap as they watched the first performance together. The dancing was upbeat despite the subject matter of police brutality. The program he held in his lap said the piece was called "Living While Black".

He clapped politely when it was over and then Bridgette curled her fingers into his, holding part of his arm against her shoulder. The lights went out and heavy salsa rhythms surrounded the audience. Some poetry was recited and when the lights came back up, a group of women stormed the stage, their dance moves aggressive and commanding the attention of everyone. N'Jobu felt in his gut that Califia had to be in this number, even though all the women had the same hair and skirts. He was able to narrow his guess to three women with clear Black body types, and then a grin spread on his face when one woman rolled her hips the way he knew Califia could, and when he heard her voice yell "Aye!" to another dancer who twirled around her, N'Jobu found himself rocking in his seat to the music.

Bridgette was into the performance too, snapping her fingers, her head bopping in time to the music.

"This makes you want to get up and move!" she told N'Jobu.

"That's got to be Califia," N'Jobu said.

"Califia?"

"She's a friend of Bakari. The dancer that Gabriela Amador was with at City Lights. That's her on the right."

"Oh, her. That's right. You know her?"

"Yes."

"You can definitely pick out the Black women up there, they are showing out right now," she said.

N'Jobu kept his eyes on Califia the rest of the night. He was finally able to see the totality of her dancing gifts, and she was a beast. During one futuristic number, her moves were so fast and tight that it took N'Jobu's breath away. He leaned forward in his seat trying to take in every step she made. Bridgette was singing along to the song.

"Yasss! 'Take it down, wanna see you, work it, oh my god, pose bitch!' This is a forever mood, N'Jobu!"

He had no idea what Bridgette meant by "forever mood", but she was enthralled with Califia cutting up on stage, so it must've meant something good.

"She is killing it!" Bridgette said.

N'Jobu could only nod and be mesmerized.

###

Rolita had changed into a traditional Yurok bark skirt decorated with seashells and dried juniper berries that hung on long strings. Ropes of shell necklaces hung across her neck and chest as she placed a small woven cap on top of her head. Rolita's back up singers, Bonnie and Layla wore simple white maxi dresses. Reese, the guitar player, was already placed on the stage waiting for his cue.

Califia wore a simple sleeveless leotard that was very close to her skin tone. She checked to make sure the shells and beads in her hair were secure and then she held hands with Rolita and the other two women.

Rolita took a deep breath and so did Califia. This was not their first time collaborating together, but it was the first time performing in a venue like the McKenna theater to an audience of that size and cultural make-up. Califia and Rolita tended to perform in their own communities. Rolita had concerns about wearing traditional clothing and the stereotypes of Native culture being seen as primitive to the white gaze. Califia assured her that they would be fine and that the best way to combat ignorance was to be truthful and start their performance being real as fuck and going all out. Califia originally wanted to perform naked, but the director and school nixed that idea. She offered to paint her body but the university still said no. She spent a pretty penny finding dance clothing that would make her look as close to nude as possible. The way her nipples were sticking out and the way the thong cut of her leotard revealed her entire ass, she might as well have been buck naked.

Patrice came up to Califia right before she stepped on stage.

"Stunt on them, sis," Patrice said hugging her.

"I will," Califia said. A special make-up filled with pyrite dust was sprinkled on Califia's skin to represent gold dust.

The stage manager swept in waving her hands at Rolita and Califia. Showtime.

Califia followed Rolita, and a stagehand gave mics to Rolita and her back up singers. Entering stage left, Rolita handed her mic to Bonnie and picked up a sage bundle that sat on the stage floor inside an abalone shell. She lit the sage and purified Califia and herself, blowing tendrils of smoke into Califia's face, then waving her hand to smudge herself also.

When she was done, she put the sage back into the abalone to burn out as she took back her mic.

"My name is Rolita Nose. I am a member of the Yurok tribe, the original people of this land that you settlers sit on."

Califia could here a few polite coughs and murmurs in the audience.

"We would like to dedicate this performance to our ancestors, my people who were here first and to my fellow Yurok who still survive and thrive on this land, our land. And to Califia's ancestors who were stolen and enslaved here, and to her people who today fight the good fight. We are still here, and our ancestors stand with us tonight."

Someone in the audience clapped and shouted "Yes!" as another person gave a loud "Shhhh!"

Rolita then said a Yurok prayer in her own language. Califia shook out her arms and gave Rolita another hug. They pressed their foreheads together and Reese began strumming chords on his electric guitar. Bonnie and Layla began to hum the opening riff as Califia took a step back behind the curtain to breathe.

Projected onscreen in the back of the stage was a giant outline of Americas with Africa inside of it. Califia waited for Rolita to sing the first line of "I Put a Spell on You", and when she heard it, she spun out onto the stage and gave it her all.

###

"Ooh, they are serious," Bridgette whispered to N'Jobu when Rolita called the audience settlers.

N'Jobu let Rolita's words sink in. Their intensity rattled something in him. When he saw Califia, he had to do a double take because he thought she was naked. Every curve and muscle stood out. Her body was incredible. She could be a Dora Milaje. He imagined being in Wakanda or traveling with his family and having her protect him. Having her be with him for life. He snapped to attention at that random thought.

Rolita held the mic up to her lips and the most unforgettable sounding voice caressed his ears, Before he could even indulge in the haunting vocals, Califia spun out and just seized the audience in her hands with her exquisite interpretation of the song.

N'Jobu dropped Bridgette's hand and sat forward in his seat, his breath caught in his throat. There was a delicate, almost fragile and yet assertive quality to the dancing. Califia incorporated ballet-like footwork with sweeping west African influenced leaps. It was like she was bringing them a blend of Europe and Africa, forcing them to witness a forced hybrid of movement. She matched the intensity of Rolita's singing, and what had always been a quirky old song became a searing indictment of history, culture, and a great demand that the audience remember what they saw and heard on this night.

Califia stopped in the center of the stage and looked directly out into the theater, her face filled with rage and curiously enough, a gentle look of unrequited love. She then lifted her right leg up into a straight 180 in the air and spun in an entire circle with just her toes and the audience gasped and clapped as she twisted herself and the music into manna for them to eat. As if she were telling them, Yes, you will fill your bellies with this and it will nourish you in ways that you didn't think you needed.

Rolita's voice was the sauce that made the performance even more special, the heartbreak and yearning and sense of betrayal. She moved to be near the front of the stage like she was really putting a spell over them with her vocals. Reaching out her fingers like she was casting a divination upon them, she sank down to her knees throwing up her hand and head just as Califia leaped into a Chinese split above her. Califia held one arm above her head as she leaped, her other hand cast downward, and in that split second, it appeared that the two women touched fingers and the crowd went ballistic, clapping as Califia completed a series of turns, tossing in a capoeira move and then walking like a golden Queen towards Rolita where the music ended as they touched hands again.

The lights went out and the entire McKenna theater leaped to their feet, N'Jobu being one of the first ones to jump up. The standing ovation going for a full minute before the lights came back on where they could all see Rolita and Califia holding hands and taking a bow. The ovation continued and it appeared to overwhelm Rolita and Califia as they both hugged and wiped tears from their eyes.

"Oh my God, oh, my God," Bridgette said, staring at him with tears streaming down her face. She reached up her hand and wiped tears from his eyes. N'Jobu smiled and wiped his eyes for himself.

"That was incredible," he said.

"Look at my hands, I'm shaking," Bridgette said.

The clapping died down as Rolita and Califia and their little entourage left the stage. Very quickly, the entire troupe of dancers from the show returned to the stage for a final bow with more rounds of applause and then it was over.

N'Jobu had to sit down for a moment to collect himself. Bridgette had her compact out, fixing her eye make-up and smiling at him.

"I'm so glad we came to see this. Gabriela did not lie. Do you think we can go see her?"

N'Jobu stared at Bridgette.

"Who? Califia?"

"Yes, her and the singer. I want to let them know how amazing they were. A sistah needs to hear it from another sistah sometimes," she laughed.

Bridgette held a hand to her chest. She was really feeling the moment. So was N'Jobu. Yes, he wanted to wait for Califia and tell her all the things Bridgette wanted to say, but he didn't want to do it with Bridgette there.

"They might take awhile coming out to leave, maybe you should just email the department or hit them up on social media."

"Oh, come on, don't you want to tell your friend in person? We're here. Let's go wait in the lobby."

Bridgette slung her purse over her shoulders and reached out for N'Jobu's hand.

"C'mon," she said.

He took her hand and they walked out of the theater and into the lobby.

###

Backstage Califia was flying high like an eagle. In all her four years in the dance department, this was by far her best performance night. Not only for her stamina in the number of pieces she danced in, but for that closing with Rolita. She co-choreographed the number with her teacher, and along the way, there were disagreements about what should stay and go, but she was so pleased with the final outcome and the crowd's response. She would look at recorded footage of it later to see if there were any things she needed to change, but the fact that she didn't kick Rolita with her leap was the best part.

She changed into an oversized dark blue tracksuit and her purple Chuck Taylors. Tossing a beanie on her head, she walked out into the lobby with Rolita.

"I'm hungry," she told Rolita.

"Tacos?"

"Tacos," she said slinging a retro fanny pack around her waist.

They both received congratulatory words from patrons as they squeezed through theater stragglers who were still milling around and talking about the show.

"Can we drink too?" Califia asked.

"I have church tomorrow," Rolita said.

Califia pretended to throw a fit.

"Califia!"

She and Rolita turned and saw N'Jobu waving at them from outside the theater doors. Califia grabbed Rolita's hand and ran towards him. She was about to hug him with overzealous enthusiasm. In her mind, she thought he had blown off his plans just to be with her, and then she saw Bridgette's arm linked in his and her momentum cut in half. If there was a record scratch moment to be had, this was it.

N'Jobu stepped forward and gave her the most reserved hug.

"Congratulations on that performance," he said.

He stepped to Rolita and gave her a hug too.

Bridgette's arm automatically returned to his when he was done greeting them.

"Hey, N'Jobu," Califia said, all the wind knocked out of her sails.

"This is Bridgette, she got us the tickets tonight as a surprise. She wanted to meet you."

Califia forced a smile on her face as she focused her eyes on Bridgette.

"So cool to meet you both. You were so great. It made both of us cry," she said holding out her hand to Califia.

Califia shook her hand, followed by Rolita. N'Jobu was scratching his face in a nervous gesture.

"I'm happy to have made you cry," she said, her eyes not leaving N'Jobu's.

"Rolita, you have such a gift in your voice. You are truly blessed," he said.

Rolita gave a cheesy grin as both Bridgette and N'Jobu spoke to her. Califia could only stare at N'Jobu and his woman friend, wondering who she herself was in this scenario. Who did she want to be? Andrea, or Serah? The twisted feeling in her gut made her try to play off the annoyed feeling she had. She wasn't angry. Not exactly. He had told her he had prior plans. He wasn't the one who bought their tickets. He was just doing his usual thing and his "friend" had tickets. He loved the show and loved her work in particular. That was fine. That was okay. She couldn't even concentrate on what anyone was saying, she just kept staring at N'Jobu's face. He was just a guy, relax.

But she couldn't relax. She wanted him to hug her and kiss her, take her hand in his and whisk her off somewhere special. Just the two of them.

But no.

He had come to the show with someone else and was leaving with someone else, perhaps going off to have dinner and drinks and great conversation. That was what she wanted to do on Sunday. Now she felt like their date tomorrow would be a second-rate copy-cat version of the one he was on now.

All the texting and talking they had done all week felt disingenuous to her now. He had read the Angela Davis book first and they spent that week talking about Angela's career, her other work, and why womanist theory mattered to Califia. And he had been so engaging over the phone. Their talks all week never ventured into the sexual realm, in fact, they didn't even speak about the picture she sent him.

God. How stupid could she be? N'Jobu probably had a slew of nudes and nasty texts on his phone already. How special could she be? And look at this big Goddess bitch right here. Bridgette. Looking like a whole thick ass snack in that dress. They would probably be smashing later, and she would ride that fat dick, and he would spank her until she was cumming…

N'Jobu was staring at her.

"Yeah?" Califia said, trying to remember what the hell anyone else had said while she had undergone a brain fart of jealous thoughts.

"You okay?" he said giving her a guarded look.

"Um, I'm tired. Yeah. Thanks for checking out the show. We gotta dip. Nice to meet you, Bridgette."

"It was great to meet you, ladies, too," Bridgette said. N'Jobu hugged Rolita again, and then he leaned in and hugged Califia, whispering in her ear, "I'll call you later."

Bridgette was holding N'Jobu's hand as they walked away in the opposite direction.

"That was awkward. I felt some tension there," Rolita said.

"Let's go eat."

"You don't want to talk about what just happened?"

"Nothing happened."

"Aren't you supposed to be wanting to hook up with him?"

Califia didn't say anything, just started walking towards the nearest BART station.

"I know you're not okay with him being with other women. You should tell him."

She was Andrea right now. This is what that shit felt like. When Serah came into that apartment months ago after N'Jobu had screwed the shit out of Andrea, this was how Andrea must've felt when he told her to leave so he could be with Serah next. Califia had sat on N'Jobu's loveseat and laughed at her. No, she needed to be a bad bitch like Serah.

So what if this nigga had hoes around the world? He wasn't in a committed relationship, didn't seem interested in a committed relationship, and he was honest about his shit. She shook her head. She really didn't want to deal with community dick. She didn't need drama created on her end. Maybe it would be better to see other dudes who weren't interested in rotating women around a schedule. Or maybe, …maybe she needed a break from men. She was graduating in June and a new chapter in her life would start. Maybe it was best to stay celibate and single and focus on only her needs.

Who was she kidding? What she needed was him spanking her again, that sweet hot pain spreading from her ass to her back, from her thighs to her nipples and her face. She could just shiver with excitement thinking about last week and his hands on her. He seemed shocked at how fast she had taken to being spanked, but what he didn't know was that she craved it. A previous boyfriend before Xavier used to spank her and she loved it. She just didn't like the guy well enough to keep him for long. She tried to get Xavier into it because most guys enjoyed the occasional ass slapping in the middle of coitus, but to get that consistent flow? Priceless. Xavier was not the guy for the job though, he couldn't get with it.

What amped her the most about it now was how fast she took it from N'Jobu and how fast she could get into that subspace sensation, that heady trippy place of peace that spanking often took her. It was a high better than weed. She didn't want to give that up. It was too hard to find dudes open to that type of stuff. N'Jobu was under the impression that she was a newbie to that type of kink. If only he knew.

Califia and Rolita ate tacos and talked about the show, and when they parted, she was determined to be a big girl, a boss like Serah. She wanted N'Jobu. She was going to have to navigate and reign in her feelings about him seeing other people. She enjoyed talking to him about books and school. She was eager to sleep with him too and desperately wanted to wear any and all marks from his hand on her bottom.

Could they make it work?

###

In his shower at home, N'Jobu rested his arm against the tile allowing warm water to rush down his back. After dropping Bridgette home at her apartment, he came home and stared at Califia's picture on his phone. He replayed the beauty of her dancing tonight, the passion she had on her face on that stage. He thought of the way she came running to him when he called her outside the theater. That expression of happiness he felt come over his own face at seeing her.

It felt like a punch in the heart when she reached him outside the theater and saw him standing with Bridgette. In an instant he watched her face turn from joy to sadness. He never wanted to see that look on her face again. Ever.

Driving home in his car he deleted all the numbers on his phone that belonged to any woman he was currently fucking. All except Serah. Only because she was now serious about a man she met in Florida, and their relationship had been over for some time in that way.

From here on out until the moment he was summoned home, his only woman was going to be Califia Stevens. He himself may just be a Prince, but he was determined to make her his Queen for as long as his time in the States permitted.

Revisiting her picture, seeing the marks he made on her, experiencing her willingness to go there with him no matter where they were…that had him in his shower, tugging on himself, fondling his balls, imagining all the nasty things he wanted to do to that woman. He turned off the water for a moment, just so he could enjoy the steam that engulfed him. The heat felt so good to his skin, he imagined it being the embrace of Califia, her hugging him from behind, her hands snaking around his middle and dropping down to grip him, stroke his length for him. He could hear the sound of her voice when he spanked her, wished he had been bold enough to stick his hands down her leggings and finger her. How hot would she look if he made her bend over the wing-backed chair in his bedroom, make her pull her panties down just to her knees, and then use his belt to make her cry out his name?

His mouth flew open as he felt the surging in his cock, his balls rising up at just the image of her bent over, ass jutting out, and her pussy open for him…

He watched his cum splash onto the tile, the heavy drops falling were loud to his sensitive ears. He should be inside of her. He wanted to be inside of her…her mind, her heart, and that warrior body.

Refreshed and clean, N'Jobu checked his cell. Califia hadn't responded to his call or message. She and Rolita must be still busy. He checked his kimoyo beads. His sister-in-law was finally free to talk. Bakari was at Shavonne's for the night. He could speak in peace and in private inside the apartment.

Getting comfortable on his couch, he called home. It was time to find out why his sister-in-law was concerned about his brother, T'Chaka.

Chapter 12 HERE.

###

#blackpanther #blackpantherfanfic #blackpantherfanfiction #njobu #n'jobu #wakanda #wakandafanfiction #wakandafanfic #tchalla #tchaka #doramilaje #blackfanfiction #romance #smut #sexy #mature #marvelfanfiction

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uzumaki-rebellion · 6 years

Text

Black Boys Bloom Thorns First (Chapter 10)

"You know I want you baby You know I do I'll give you my heart and the rest is up to you You ain't no good for me, I know it's true But you don't have to be Cause I do it for the thrill, for the rush I do it for the pain, for your touch When I OD, when it's too much If I survive, baby you're the one You're the one"

Kaytranada – "You're the One"

"…JobuJobuJobuJobu…."

Her voice through the phone made his body spiral out of control. The begging to make her orgasm. The snippets of noise he heard that could only be the toy between her toned thighs. That sharp cry she gave before she was tongue-twisting his name over and over.

He gripped his erection, the taut flesh spasmed once, twice, three times before he spewed hot semen across his bed, ruining his sheets. His balls ached from the draining even though his dick was still somewhat hard. That twinge of dull pain he felt was his body's way of yearning for physical contact with a woman. An orgasm that good only primed the pump for him to want more. And soon.

As he listened to Califia's measured breathing over the phone, he seriously thought of calling up one of his special friends to come take care of him properly so he could get Califia out of his system. He would have to suffer the fantasy of wondering what her face looked like when she came. Did she close her eyes? Was she a crier? Did her body bend or go rigid? Did her pussy grip tight and milk a dick, or become a soft receptacle of pleasure? What did she taste like?

His mind was full of pleasant thoughts until she mentioned that she could handle spanking. At that moment, he had to shut it all down. Spanking belonged to his women. His skills were immaculate when it came to that form of discipline, and he couldn't stand the thought of not being able to do it with her when she was tied up with some clown who didn't understand or value her worth. It was best not to play flirty games with her if he couldn't have her the way he wanted.

He made his voice neutral when he told her that he didn't want to be around her alone. He was adamant that she sever her relationship with Xavier.

When he finished the call with her, he stopped to analyze his reasoning for telling her that he didn't want anyone else touching her. It was a ridiculous notion, something he never said to his other women. But that's how he wanted it. He wasn't trying to pin down a girlfriend. Califia was just his newest conquest. He didn't want her distracted by anyone else before him.

Once he had her a few times, he knew she would simmer down to a low boil in his system and he would be onto the next. The excitement was the chase right now, and it was extra stimulating because she belonged to someone else. He was taking perverse pleasure in knowing he was provoking another man's woman to leave him. The moment Califia kissed him he knew he couldn't pretend to care about being respectful anymore. Her mouth, her tongue, her tits, and that thick backside of hers had him on edge.

Shit.

His dick was still hard. Jutting out between his thighs and ramrod straight. A shower would help. He changed the sheets on his bed first, then treated his horny body to a frigid shower.

When he was situated in his bed all warm and quite comfortable, he entertained the idea of letting her make all the moves from now on. He was still going to see other people, but he would wait for her to act. In fact, he wasn't going to touch her until some time had passed once she broke up with Xavier. When he had the opportunity to get her in his bed, he was going to make sure she would forget Xavier and any other man she rebounded with. He wanted her body to remember him forever once he left America and went home for good.

###

After his early morning run, and before his afternoon classes, N'Jobu took the time to look over betrothal march and coronation clothing designs. His mother fast-tracked sketches and photos of swatches to his computer, so he sat at his desk partaking of dark bitter tea shipped from home as he looked over the numerous pictures.

During the three weeks he would be in Wakanda he would change outfits three times a day on average. T'Chaka, once crowned, would wear traditional dark robes and slacks with the family coat of arms stitched into the fabric. N'Jobu, denoting his status of the second son in line, would bear the family crest on his shoulders or on a stole draped over his chest.

N'Jobu loved color, so he was pleased his mother was allowing vibrant shades in several of the suits and robes he scrolled through. One suit, in particular, caught his eye, a flashy iridescent blue silk number with tapered lines and deep folds in the waist. He decided to wear that for the crowning. A deep persimmon colored wool djellaba also caught his eye, and he filed it away as an afterparty outfit for when he snuck out from the palace and partied with his friends from the top tiers of nobility back home. He was already girding his loins for all the ribbing he would take from his still single childhood friends. He was also ready for them to bend his ear about favoring their sisters as potential Princess material.

There was some traditional attire he would have to wear regardless if he liked it or not, but it was part of the royal protocol. Lately, he was favoring rather tight suits and robes. A brother liked to stunt back home, and if he had to go on public display for an arranged marriage, he was going to outshine a prancing peacock. After checking for shoes and sandals, diamond studded earrings and silver rings, N'Jobu headed for class.

He would be returning to the states a few days after the new term started, so he needed to collect syllabus materials and books to take with him during winter break. He floated through his classes, ignored texts and voicemail from Andrea and Ren, but took calls from Serah and a woman, Bridgette, who he had been crazy about but she dumped him for being secretive. The one woman he thought he could be serious with. The one who accused him of being an arrogant African prick. She was back in town after being away on a project for her job in another city.

Bridgette was doing well, and he felt like she was fishing around for a hook-up excuse. He gave her one, mentioning his idea of having a holiday party at his apartment before he left for Wakanda. He knew he was clutch when she texted him back after they spoke to tell him to remind her of the party. She'd be checking for him again real soon, he was sure of it.

When he was done with his classes for the day, he used the school gym to work out a bit, working on his biceps, thinking of the women he had chosen for the first round of possible wife material. He had made a list of five that he found favorable. He would go back and forth with his parents because he knew they had their own list of picks. His paternal grandmother held considerable weight in the choosing, but he hoped his parents would favor his list and back him against his grandmother if she started throwing her influence. The intense vetting process would begin in the new year; however, the first step was to formally come out to his people and the circus of speculation that would start as to who the newest royal in the Udaku family line would be.

By the time he returned to his apartment, Bakari was back home on his phone and using his gaming console in front of the tv.

N'Jobu showered and changed into a comfortable pair of lounging slacks and a university t-shirt. He worked in the kitchen to prepare a meal of sautéed vegetable medley with a pork loin roast that he'd left marinating in spices all day. He played music on his phone and worked with quiet efficiency, the tantalizing smells of the pork roasting in the oven wafted throughout the apartment. He could hear Bakari on his phone with the occasional curse word thrown out when one of his RPG characters died.

Eventually Bakari came into the kitchen to be nosey about what was cooking, still on his phone yammering away and popping open a bottle of hard lemonade. He sat at the kitchen table watching N'Jobu stir his vegetables on the stove then directed his attention back to his phone. It was then that N'Jobu overheard that Califia had left Xavier. She wasted no time, he thought. The urge to call her came over him, but he pushed back on that. He wanted her to come to him when she was ready.

A fleeting thought of her on his lap made him smile a bit as he sat down at the kitchen table and went through his phone for messages. Bakari didn't mention any more details over the phone, but when he hung up, N'Jobu thought it was a good time to let his friend know his intentions.

"Califia broke up with Xavier?"

Bakari put his cell down on the table.

"Yeah. I stayed with her last night at her grandma's."

N'Jobu gave Bakari a quizzical look.

"Soliel and Rolita were with her, and I went over to check on her. She was feeling really bad about it. But she was good this morning when I left. The grapevine got out though, so I know dudes are lined up ready to get at her."

"You think she'll start dating right away?"

"To me, that's the best way to get over a breakup. Just jump back out there. She really liked Xavier though."

"Was she in love with him?"

It was Bakari's turn to give a questioning look at N'Jobu.

"Why you care if she was in love?"

N'Jobu just flexed the fingers in his left hand and Bakari put both his hands on the kitchen table leaning towards N'Jobu.

"Wayment, you checking for her?"

"Yes."

Bakari leaned back and gave N'Jobu a long hard stare.

"You serious? You know that's my homegirl right? Not just my friend, but like, my sister. Family."

"I know this."

"Dude. You hit 'em and quit 'em. That's not Califia."

"She is an adult."

"You not hearing me, man. She's not to be played with."

"I like her."

"A lot of niggas like her, bruh."

"Do I need your permission to check for her?"

N'Jobu's eyes hardened in expression as he tried to determine Bakari's true feelings about his desire to pursue Califia.

"Look, Cali can do what she wants. I'm just telling you that I don't like the idea of you with her because you're not into relationships for the long haul. And if you two get into something and it goes south, then I'm stuck in this fucked up triangle of awkward interactions. You my boy, but she's family. I need you to comprehend that."

"So if she and I end on a negative, we can't be friends anymore?"

"I'd still be your friend, but it would be weird for me. Can't you be happy with the baddies you already banging? You got like half a dozen. Why her too?"

"I just like her."

Bakari squinted his eyes at N'Jobu, then wagged his finger at him.

"See, I knew something was up at that karaoke shit. And the museum. The vibe between you two was a little off."

N'Jobu smiled then went to turn off his rice cooker.

"Bakari, I enjoy women. Smart women with passion—"

"And ass."

N'Jobu chuckled at that.

"I would never intentionally try to hurt Califia. I really am interested in her as a person and not just sex—"

"Ugh, don't say that."

"It's your fault that I'm into her."

"How's that?"

"You made me go to that BSU meeting. You brought her here to our apartment. If I never saw her, I wouldn't be at this point."

"She might get back with Xavier though."

"No, she won't."

"How you know?"

"I know. I talked to her."

"You've only hung out with her like, what, two times?"

"Enough time to chat."

"This is making me hella uncomfortable. You better not hurt her. On God, if you ever make her cry I will kick your ass."

"I won't hurt her. You should worry about me. You know she can handle herself. She'd probably kick my ass with her capoeira."

"I'd be right there with her. Believe that."

N'Jobu pulled his pork loin roast from the oven and let it sit on the stove to rest. Bakari watched him scoop seasoned rice out of the cooker and fill up a ceramic serving dish. Fixing them both plates of food, N'Jobu wanted to reassure Bakari.

"Califia is a smart woman. She can handle herself with any man, including me. Who knows, she may not even want me."

"Nigga, stop tryna downplay your game. I can see she's into you. You just need to know one thing, don't fuck with her. She not only has me but some hard ass cousins that do not play when it comes to her. Street niggas, bruh. Like 'keep that thang on 'em' niggas. Tread carefully."

"I will."

Bakari shook his head. They both ate the food N'Jobu cooked, music still playing on N'Jobu's phone.

"I want us to have a winter break party," N'Jobu said.

"Here?"

"In the all-purpose room. Management has been turning on the heat lamps by the pool, so we can have a nighttime pool party."

"Pool only stays open until ten though."

"We can start the party at five. If the pool is too cold, we can use the jacuzzi. I'll cater food and drinks so no one has to bring anything."

"Make it BYOB, that way if people drink too much, it's not our problem. We can provide soda and water."

"Sounds good. You can invite your friends from your drumming group and really shake it up around here. I already reserved the room for December twenty-first."

"Am I inviting Cali, or will you be wanting to do the honors?" Bakari had a smirk on his face.

"You do it."

They ate the rest of their meal in silence, both occasionally peeking at their cell phones. N'Jobu found Bakari staring at him while he finished up his second helping of rice and vegetables.

"What?"

"I feel like I need to warn you about Cali."

"Warn me?"

Bakari pondered what he wanted to say, causing N'Jobu to feel some unease.

"She's not like these women you deal with. I told you before she had a rough home life, and that is real talk. She doesn't trust a lot of people and she's really sensitive about her dad. I wasn't expecting you to like her in that way, so I wasn't going to speak on her personal shit."

"Personal shit?"

"You know her dad is in prison."

"My first fumble with her."

"He's in prison for life. He killed this dude that was molesting kids from our hood. This eats at her all the time. She can close up real tight sometimes when she comes back from visiting him."

Bakari's face became pensive. N'Jobu pushed away his plate.

"The dude he killed was a cop. A bad one. Nobody could prove shit on him, that whole blue wall bullshit, but he was going after little Black girls. He went after Cali's friend and messed that little girl up. Dante, Cali's dad, he filed complaints about the cop. Nothing happened. So he confronted dude. Cop pulled a gun on him and Dante cold-cocked him and dude fell and hit his head. Went into a coma and later died. Blood clot in the brain."

N'Jobu took it all in, trying to imagine a young Califia losing her father after he tried to stop a monster.

"Dante was a big-time community activist, so this all blew up on the news. Cops got a little funkier with the hood and Califia's family got death threats for a long time. That's why her grandma lives in the Outer District and not in Oakland anymore. I think the cops still keep tabs on her family. Even after all these years."

"There's no chance of parole for her father?"

"She tries to get money and good lawyers for her dad, but most folks don't want to take the case. My parents don't practice criminal law, but they helped get Dante a lawyer who was fighting for him. But it's Oakland. Cops get away with shit. They actually got rid of three cops who stepped forward and said ole boy was trash. I think those good cops got pressured or threatened. Two were transferred and one was fired. The fired one was Black."

N'Jobu felt his heart filling with sadness for Califia.

"She rides a bike so she doesn't have to have car expenses. The money she saves she puts towards trying to hire this lawyer from back east who has an excellent track record. She's been saving for three years. Her mom got divorced and re-married. She doesn't get along with her mom and her step-dad. She also has two younger siblings she doesn't see because she feels like her mother didn't hold it down for her dad. My parents took her in when her mom moved to Jersey, so when I say we are family, I mean that shit dude. I grew up with her, lived with her, fought knuckleheads in the streets with her. She ain't no regular chick," Bakari's voice broke a little, and he wiped a tear from his eyelid.

"I hear what you are saying, my friend," N'Jobu said.

"Don't tell her I told you all that. I would prefer she tell you on her own when she wants, but I couldn't hold it in. Especially now that you want to get with her. She carries a lot of hurt and I try my best to keep her happy and upbeat. She's finally gotten to a place where she can chill a bit. She'll get through the Xavier shit, but I don't want her—"

"Bakari…stop. I said I hear you."

"I hope you do."

N'Jobu cleared their dishes, placing them in the dishwasher, and then put away the leftover food. Bakari still sat at the table, watching N'Jobu move around the kitchen.

"If you don't want me to get with her Bakari, just say so."

"Y'all grown."

"I don't want you to be flippant about it. Be honest. You want me to leave her alone."

"I know you can't. You look at her the way women look at you. I just want you to be honest with her every step of the way."

"I am always honest."

"I mean letting her know that there's no future for y'all."

N'Jobu stopped in his tracks.

"I don't want her to fall in love with you."

"You are getting way ahead of yourself—"

"Look at Andrea. Dude, you have that girl's nose wide open. Her and Ren fill up the answering machine all the time. I'm not letting you do that to Cali—"

"Can we even have a first date to see if we are compatible?"

"Compatible, nigga you funny."

Bakari left the kitchen and N'Jobu followed him.

"You wanna play?" Bakari asked, holding a control console out to him. N'Jobu sat on the couch with him as they fired up a zombie apocalypse game. Playing through various levels, N'Jobu wondered if he should give up on Califia. It clearly bothered Bakari.

Maybe she was just an itch he wanted to scratch. He was used to getting everything he wanted in life that he never considered the idea of leaving some things alone. Maybe going after a wounded woman was asking for trouble. Could he give up never kissing her again? Never knowing what it would be like to wake up with her after a night of invigorating sex? Never having her sit on his lap again so he could look up into that freckled face of hers? Never touching her breasts again? Never knowing what magic could lie between her thighs?

Bakari would never verbally tell him to leave her alone. But he would pout. Give him looks. Lay in wait for N'Jobu to find a new girl and then berate him for being how he always was with women. Was it worth all that?

The apartment phone rang, and they both sat on the couch listening for who it was. Bridgette's peach cobbler sweet southern drawl oozed from the voicemail. N'Jobu picked up the phone. Bakari only smirked at him again.

"Hey, Bridgette," he said, not bothering to leave the room and still playing the video game.

"City Lights Bookstore has Gabriela Amador coming in on the tenth. Would you be interested in going? We can have coffee afterward and catch up."

"Sounds cool," he said.

"Great, I'll text you deets. Can't wait to see you."

"This coming from the woman who told me I was a prick."

"Arrogant prick, don't forget," she laughed.

"See you on the tenth."

He hung up with a smile on his face. Perhaps this was divine providence. Bridgette coming back into his life.

###

The second floor of the City Lights Bookstore was crammed with people eager to see the writer-dancer-activist Gabriela Amador. Rain and light fog made N'Jobu dress in a thick blue jacket with a dark blue scarf wrapped around his neck.

Standing next to Bridgette, he noticed a few admiring stares aimed their way. Bridgette was his height with bone-straight blue-black hair that reached her collar in a stylish asymmetrical cut. She wore a vintage Burberry coat that clung to her form in all the right places. Her face was heavily made-up, the tawny coloring of her skin a bit moist from the drops of rain that fell on her when they walked inside the bookstore. Two hours before they had a quick dinner together at a Korean noodle shop, so they were both feeling quite full and very caught up. His instincts had been correct with her; she wanted him to be open to getting back together.

A fine-boned and elegant woman the same rich color of his mother stood in front of a lectern and spoke with a full-bodied Spanish accented English. Gabriela Amador was fifty-five years old and looked forty. She still had a dancer's body that she carried like a young ballerina with delicate flourishes from her arms when she waved them to make a point. Her lecture was on Post-Colonial Afro-Latino Dance in the Americas, and she touched upon quite a few political points as her talk grew more passionate. Her audience was spellbound, and N'Jobu found the content of her talk fascinating.

As the talk ended, a short Q & A followed and a young sable-haired hipster with a fancy mustache asked Gabriela about the connection between dance as an act of rebellion in today's society. Gabriela spoke of West Indian stick fighting and when she mentioned capoeira and its history, a large group of people to the right of the lectern started cat-calling and pointing at someone in the front row. N'Jobu strained his neck trying to see who they were pointing to.

"You know capoeira? I should've known when I saw you on campus earlier, come, " Gabriela said, clapping her hands.

N'Jobu still couldn't see who the people in front were making noise about.

"Here, someone move this, I want to Ginga," Gabriela said.

A bookstore employee moved the lectern and Gabriela took off her heavy sweater and handed it to a woman standing behind her.

"Now don't worry everyone, we can play in this small space. Capoeira was a secret martial art that enslaved Africans in Brasil brought with them from the Congo. It is in the dance that you can see the warrior. Slaves had to practice this craft in secret, so they hid it as a dance in front of their slavemasters. What we call play is really fighting in plain sight."

There was movement up front and then N'Jobu felt his insides shiver when Califia stood up to face Gabriela.

"Normally we would have a berimbau playing…what is that? Oh, wonderful," Gabriella said to the bookstore employee who had her cell phone out.

"This young lady is going to pull up some music for us on her phone," Gabriela said.

The employee held her phone to the mic on the lectern, and as soon as the music hit, Gabriela shuffled forward with her hands held up. Califia wore only a loose yellow blouse and leggings, her 4C hair in thin two-stranded twists as her hands matched up with Gabriela's. They took turns rocking forwards and back, Califia letting the older woman lead the demonstration. Gabriela wasted little time in kicking out her legs within her snazzy green culottes and showing Califia that age did not diminish skills.

The room grew tense watching the women move so fluid within the tight confines they were in, and then Califia did a handstand and play fought Gabriela with only her legs and purple sock covered feet. The skill it took to use only her core and legs impressed the audience until Gabriela did a handstand move that had her posing in midair with one hand. Califia jumped back on her feet and hugged Gabriela hard and the audience gave Gabriela a standing ovation.

"I still have a few tricks up my sleeve!" Gabriela told the crowd.

N'Jobu was beaming ear to ear watching Califia. Gabriela put her arm over Califia's shoulder.

"Listen…listen, this afternoon I was at San Francisco State with Professor Delaney's dance class and I want to tell you, the most brilliant talent is in her class. And this young lady right here, oh my, you must all come and see their Winter Program. I saw a bit, and it is outstanding, this woman here is outstanding. Can you tell them a bit about it, maybe the piece you are doing?"

Califia turned to face the audience for the first time and when her eyes caught N'Jobu's, she seemed flustered for a moment, but then looked away from his face.

"Uh, yeah. Hi, I'm Califia Stevens, I'm here with some of my classmates from SFSU School of Theater and Dance, and we are doing eight performances starting next week, November seventeenth in the McKenna Theatre. Actual dates are online…" Califia glanced at Gabriela to see what else she needed to say.

"You must see them. They embody a lot of what I spoke of here tonight. There is a section they do where they take songs that are fairly well-known, but they subvert the lyrics to interpret it with dance in fresh new ways, and this jewel right here…she takes "I Put A Spell on You" and turns it into a love letter for the African diaspora and Indigenous peoples in the Americas and it is magnificent. Who was the young lady singing for you?"

"One of my best friends, Rolita Nose."

"Por favor, if you want to have an early Christmas present go see the show."

There was applause, and then Gabriela gave Califia a deep hug. Afterwards, a few people from the tightly packed audience approached the writer with copies of her books.

"Folks, we have a table set up downstairs for Gabriela to sign, so if you could please meet us downstairs, we'll have more space," said another bookstore employee.

Bridgette and N'Jobu each had a copy of Gabriela's book, so N'Jobu retreated with her downstairs.

"I want to go see that dance show now," Bridgette enthused finding a spot in the line that was waiting for books to be signed. N'Jobu nodded. But kept his eyes on the stairs waiting for Califia to come down. When she did, she was surrounded by people asking her questions.

When she saw N'jobu again, she nodded in his direction. Bridgette held open the book to show N"Jobu a picture of Gabriela doing capoeira when she was younger, around twenty. N'Jobu could only watch Califia hanging out with her classmates. He wanted to go speak to her, but he opted to stay in line with Bridgette to get his book signed. He wanted to let her know he knew about Xavier, but he felt tacky about approaching her when he was there with Bridgette. He reminded himself that she had to make the moves, so he composed his excitement at seeing her.

Gabriella Amador was escorted to the signing table and the line moved at a nice pace. Bridgette and N'Jobu were sixth and seventh in line, so it didn't take long for them to get their books signed and for Bridgette and him to ask Gabriela a few questions about her home back in Honduras and to take a few pictures. With their books signed, Bridgette seemed excited and leaned into N'Jobu.

"This was so much fun. Actually, this whole time has been great with you. I missed you. I'm glad we had a chance to talk."

"I'm glad too."

N'Jobu kept fighting the overwhelming urge to turn his head and search for Califia's face. He didn't want to give off facial cues that Bridgette may see and know that he was interested in someone else. All day today he had been looking forward to being with Bridgette and maybe really catching up with her in the biblical sense. Why did Califia have to be at this bookstore? It made sense that she would be given the fact that her class was here and the author had been at her school earlier, but damn, the circumstances were not working in his favor.

Bridgette glanced at her watch.

"You want to grab some coffee?"

He didn't.

"Can we take a raincheck on coffee?"

Her lips tightened and her eyes seemed to go clouded with disappointment.

"I'm just a little tired. I think the change in weather is wearing on me. How about we do dinner next week?"

Bridgette ran her fingers on his scarf.

"Are you cooking?"

"I want to try this new restaurant that opened on the wharf. Are you agreeable to that?"

Once again, she looked disappointed.

"Sure."

"Great. Let's say Saturday around six?"

She nodded and he pecked her on her cheek.

"You ready?" he asked.

"I can catch a Lyft. If you're not feeling well, I don't want you having to drive me home and then doubling back, especially in this weather."

She ordered a ride from her phone app and he walked with her outside. They waited on the corner and within five minutes, her ride appeared.

"See you next week," she said. He opened the door to the back seat for her. She waited for another kiss, but he simply smiled and held his hand out to protect her head from hitting the car roof.

He waved her off and held his left palm up in the air. It was drizzling again. He walked back into the bookstore.

###

Califia saw N'Jobu walk back inside the bookstore. He was alone. She felt a nervous tickle in her belly as she watched him scan the room. Was he looking for her? Oh please…

She scooted behind a bookshelf with a large gap where she could trail his steps without him seeing her. He glanced about and then he headed towards the stairs. She watched him carry his frame to the floor above and she stayed put, feeling her heart thump like a rabbit in her chest. It was thrilling watching him move through a room, and just as thrilling to see other people watch him. That magnetism of his was a joy to behold, especially in public.

Should she go upstairs and pretend to be nonchalant while bumping into him? Or go stand outside in front of the bookstore so he could see her through the glass all dramatic? She felt giddy, her cheeks stretching from the hard smile on her face. How did he know about Gabriela Amador? Who was that woman with him?

Califia moved around to another bookcase, one that was close to the entrance so she wouldn't miss him, but it would still be hard to see her. She ran her fingers along a row of books, pretending to look at them with eager inspection, but all she could ponder was how dashing N'Jobu looked, especially with that scarf twisted around his neck and his fresh line up. His goatee which he had kept light was visibly thicker and made his face even more handsome.

It felt like forever since she had been with him, and in all that time (nearly two weeks) neither one of them had called the other. When she needed to practice with Bakari, he came to her grandmother's house or they met in the community center or in the park. Dance rehearsals had gotten so intense that she could only think of practice twenty-four seven. She had to take a break from working at the community center and dropped teaching dance classes in Richmond.

Gabriela Amador was a friend of her dance teacher, so she was thrilled to meet her at school. Gabriela stayed through the second half of their full rehearsal, so she was able to see a lot of Califia's work. She could only beam thinking about the kind words Gabriela told the people at the bookstore. She was too nervous to ask her about capoeira at the theater, so when her classmates gassed her up at the bookstore, she was beyond geeked to play with a woman master of the art. Capoeira seemed to be blossoming in many Black diasporic communities lately.

For her, dance and capoeira gave her control of her life. Mastery of her body. For so long after the imprisonment of her father and the equally felt loss of her childhood friend whom her father tried to stand up for, Califia never felt safe. Or protected. Predators were everywhere, and once her father was taken away and her mother fell into indifference and despair, it was capoeira and dance that gave her some power back. Made her feel less afraid. Her body was hers and she could protect it, make it do things that other people couldn't do. If boys or men groped for her when she was younger, she would knuck and buck with the best of them. Mastery of her body helped her get through the chaos that often consumed her surroundings. This vessel she carried was all that she needed. She was grounded in that belief. And if she ever had children, she was going to make sure they knew how to fight just like her. Shake the table of the world if they needed to.

"Califia Stevens."

The hairs on the back of her neck rose with the sound of her name coming from his lips. She closed her eyes and held her hands close to her chest. Jesus, this man. She turned around and looked up slightly to see those dark dreamy eyes peering back into her own.

"N'Jobu."

"At your service."

"I guess we can talk to one another here."

He smiled.

"Seeing as we are not alone, I think we are safe," he said.

"Didn't expect to see you here."

"I was quite surprised to see you doing your thing in a bookstore."

"Ohmigod, was Gabriela not the shit?"

And just like that, they were going back and forth, like two weeks had never passed, like this giddy energy was always going to be between them. Califia felt her eyes taking in the minutiae of his face, a silent desperation to hold onto to every detail of him just in case time marched ahead of her, taking him with it for another long-term separation. How could this man possibly get finer in fourteen days?

She didn't want to ask him, but she hoped he would come to see the dance concert.

"My friend Bridgette told me about this place."

"Oh, that's who you were with. Your friend. Bridgette"

"It is what it is, Califia. The good thing is, I got to see you."

He reached up and rubbed her arm. She leaned into his touch.

"I broke up with Xavier."

"I heard."

Her eyes widened a bit.

"Word gets around," he said.

She only stared at him, not sure if he was expecting her to say more about where that put them. She decided to play it close to the vest.

The initial shock of the uncoupling had passed her. She was confused at how much she grieved over Xavier considering she broke up with him first. She spoke to a counselor at school who explained to her that break-ups could feel like a sort of death, that relationships went through their own Kübler-Ross type grieving stages too.

At this point in time, she felt strong. Open.

"Just so you know, I'm doing fine."

"Good."

Was he going to "properly step to her"? That's what he said he was going to do once she broke up with Xavier. He only stared back at her with platonic eyes. Perhaps she missed her chance. Perhaps that Bridgette chick had already taken up all his interest. She was feeling less excited now about her chances. Maybe she should've called him right away to at least let him know that she was free. A thought flashed through. She could play the book game with him and maybe gauge his interest in her.

"You want to look around? This bookstore has three floors," she said. He smiled.

###

Califia found herself sitting across from N'Jobu inside a random mom and pop coffee shop not too far from the bookstore. They both sipped thick espressos, and both had their cell phones out. They had finished browsing through City Lights, and Califia had mentioned grabbing warm drinks and getting to know each other via books.

"It's simple. We each list five books that best describe either who we are, our worldview, or something we are passionate about," she explained.

"And this is supposed to reveal our true selves?"

"Something like that. One thing I was happy to see when I went into your apartment was a bookshelf. With pretty decent books on it, I might add."

"Couldn't we just talk about those things?"

"We could, but I feel like reading can be a little more intimate," she said.

A sly look crossed N'Jobu's face when she said the word intimate.

"You go first," he said.

"Octavia Butler's 'Kindred'. The Autobiography of Malcolm X—"

"I have read that one."

"Read it again. Toni Morrison's 'Beloved'. Angela Davis' 'Blues Legacies and Black Feminism'. Edwidge Danticat's 'Krik? Krak!'"

N'Jobu typed into his cell.

"You read all of those first, then you give me your list of books when you're done."

"Why don't you want my list now?"

"It works best if one person starts. In my experience, it gives deeper meaning in the thought process of choice for the second person."

"Does your list ever change?"

"Sometimes, it depends on my mood. And the person."

Califia looked outside the coffee shop window. It was sprinkling.

"I better go before it starts pouring," she said. She pulled on her biker jacket and adjusted her boots. Cradling her helmet at her side, she stood up.

"Let me give you a ride home. You can get your bike tomorrow. It's not safe in this rain."

"It's just sprinkling and I'm not leaving my bike out here. I know how to ride in this weather."

Califia headed out the door and N'Jobu fell in step behind her.

"Listen to me, Califia. I'm right around the corner. I'll get my car—"

"I'm good."

She squeezed his arm and strolled around the corner.

###

N'Jobu ran to his car like he stole something. He felt the light rainfall as he booked it two blocks with his newly purchased book shoved into his jacket. He wanted to follow her in case the weather turned worse, and he could maybe convince her to get in his car.

Once he was strapped in and started his motor, he saw Califia zip past him, her helmet bright and shiny and beaded with raindrops. He made an illegal U-Turn in hot pursuit. It was a little after eleven at night, late, but still enough traffic that forced N'Jobu to really focus on keeping Califia in his sight as well as watching for other cars.

He thought she would head in the opposite direction towards her Grandmother's house, but she was whipping through lanes in the direction of the Bay Bridge. Where was she going? Who was she going to?

He was able to catch up with her and actually pull alongside her at a red light. He honked his horn and rolled down his passenger window. She lifted up her visor.

"I'm going to follow you in case it comes down harder," he yelled just to make sure she heard him.

She gave him a slightly annoyed look, but then she smiled.

"N'Jobu, I've ridden in actual rain before. I also have excellent tires made for this."

His eyes traced her entire appearance and he was in awe of how sexy she looked. The aerodynamic helmet. The matching jacket and boots. The sleek bike. Her body outlined in her leggings in that perfect way of hers draped across the seat. She was made for that motorcycle. He was ready to drag her into his car and back onto his lap. She swiped her hand on her visor and the moment the light turned green, she shot off down the street, cutting in front of his lane. A smile curled his lips. He was ready to chase her down.

She tried to shake him down a few streets, but he kept close, the weather actually clearing up but still curling with light fog. He was worried about oil slicks from the fresh rain, but the way she was handling her ride with the expert cruising, perhaps he didn't need to worry at all.

She started showing out once they approached the bridge and got past the toll with their FasTrak passes. She got far ahead of him allowing other cars to get between them on purpose. He saw her do a quick lane switch and he couldn't help but feel his chest swell with admiration at how thrilling it felt to speed across the bridge, his eyes on her ass as she actually sat up a bit and looked behind herself to see where he was. She flipped him off and he laughed loud and long in his car as he sped up and got behind her.

She eased up on her speed when there was some slight crowding on the bridge once they got closer to the end. He pressed a button on his steering wheel and pulse scan shot out and traced the heat signature of her body and bike. Her image showed up onscreen on his dash, and now he could have his own personal GPS of her in case she tried to shake him again once they got off the bridge. The body heat scan only worked as long as she was at least two hundred feet near him. He thought of shooting a tracker onto her bike from the car, but that seemed a bit much. The scan was working fine.

Off the bridge, she headed into Oakland with a swiftness and he kept up pretty well. At a yellow light, she gunned it, leaving him to sit at the red. He shook his head as he watched her turn into a small dot on the horizon. By the time the light turned green again, he had lost her.

"Call Califia," he told his car's internal communications system.

Her voicemail kicked in.

"Califia, where are you staying tonight?"

He didn't really have to ask. Looking around where he was, he recognized the area. She was going to Xavier's.

Chapter 11 HERE.

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