Chapter Seven – Ghetto Girl Rising (Continued)

Our first time together did not happen until after six months, and for sure not until we had our heart-to-heart talk about my past. Jayden wants to make sure it is special, so he rented a room at the Hyatt Hotel.

The Hyatt Hotel is an upscale hotel in downtown Oakland, that has beautiful rooms with all the amenities you could ever want in a hotel. The outside of the Hyatt isn’t much to look at, but the interior is so stunningly crafted with high chandeliers that hang from vaulted ceilings, plush deep green carpet, with a mahogany wood front desk counter, and wood moldings all throughout the lobby with intricately etched designs of cherubs. There is a piano bar and a beautiful fountain with some classic sculpture design of a scantily clad woman. I have never seen anything so spectacular in all my life.

Jayden, holds my hand, as he leads me to the suite he has rented for the weekend, and when he opens the door, my mouth damn-near hits the floor, “Oh my goodness,” this room, like the lobby of this hotel, is incredible, it has a sunken living room that you walk down two steps to be in, a king-size bed with the most expensive and elegant comforter and bed sheets I have ever seen, a sunken jacuzzi bathtub, a walk-in shower, and a hidden stereo system.

“So, what do you think about the room? Do you like it?” Jayden asked with a concerned look on his face.

“I love it! It’s the best thing I’ve ever been in,” I responded embarrassed to admit my life was simple with no perks or uniqueness, well maybe not simple, but it was basic by the standards he had grown up with and for the Hyatt.

“This room was simply gorgeous, and to top it all off, Jayden made the most beautiful all Prince slow jam CD for me. He knows how much I love Prince. I had told him that when “Purple Rain” came out a few years back, I saw it at the theater over 100 times. I would go to the movies and sit there and watch it all day. I just simply swooned over any Prince song when he played it in his ’83 royal blue mustang with its booming-ass stereo system.

The bass in his car stereo rattles my bones when he plays any song. I can feel the pounding rhythms deep in my core. Music has a way of making me feel free and connected to nature. So much so, that the right song under the right circumstances could make me wet with desire. The fact that he took the time to make me an all Prince slow jam CD is truly special. He really cares about me or, “Maybe he just wants me in the mood, so he can get in my pants,” it does not matter because no matter how frigid a person may be, Prince can melt that frigidity clear away in one song. Prince’s music is definitely my weakness. I am talking a straight panty-dropper, no defenses, and no inhibitions whatsoever, all it takes is one song and I am weak for the rest of the evening.

Jayden went all out, ordering lobster dinners from room service, with crème brûlée for dessert and sparkling apple cider. Dinner was D’Lish. During dinner, we talked casually about the events of our day. Jayden went to school and I went to school and work.

“The room is beautiful. Thank you so much for putting so much care and thought into our first time together.” I comment again on the room.

“I just want you to know how much I care about you. I don’t want you to feel like all I want from you is sex. You know that’s not the case, right?” He responded.

He has a way of soothing my fears and putting me at ease, which makes the feelings I have for him grow deeper.

“Yes,” I shake my head, overwhelmed by the emotions flooding my body. I do not know how much longer I can contain myself. I do not wanna come off like some type of freak or sexpot, but he is really getting under my skin.

Jayden walks to the CD player putting my special CD in, and wouldn’t you know the very first song is, “Do Me, Baby”? The music starts in and Prince joins in singing:

Here we are in this big old empty room (We sure are – )

Staring each other down (Umm-hmm)

You want me just as much as I want you (You damn right I do)

Let’s stop fooling around (I know that’s right)

The whole time the song is playing, I have this internal dialogue with it. When Prince gets to the line about, “Take me, baby, kiss me all over,” I am in full striptease mode. I kick off my shoes and start unbuttoning my shirt to peel it off, slowly, seductively, and teasingly. Jayden’s eyes are glued to me as he hums along with the music. I didn’t think dark-chocolate blushed, but I swear I could see Jayden melting right before me,

“Girl, the things you do to me. You’re making me weak.” Jayden said as he licked his full already moistened lips.

It was all his fault, I could melt right there in the middle of the floor, “How did he know that this was my absolute favorite Prince song?” I thought to myself as I continued to sway to the syncopation of the deep rhythmic beats as Prince belts out his invitation to do him, baby.

Jayden walks slowly over to me and holds out his hand, asking me, “Dance with me,” while I’m in the middle of taking off my shirt. I don’t know if I can handle such close contact without ripping his clothes off in an instant, but I oblige, and we come together in the middle of the living room floor, with its deep green shag carpet, and rocked slowly back-and-forth, grinding against each other’s bodies. Feeling our anticipation growing by the second barely able to contain ourselves but using all our faculties to maintain some composure. Jayden wants to take it slow, he doesn’t want me to feel rushed or pressured.

He whispers in my ear, “You okay? This too much?” Catching me off guard, I am so far from my past at that moment, that all I can think is, It’s taking too long for him to make love to me.

While we dance he kisses my cheek, nips at my ear, and lightly sucks on my neck leaving faint red marks of passion where his lips visit, all while his hands run the length of my torso grazing the sides of my breasts with his fingertips at each pass. Everything he did seems to be setting my body on fire, and I do not know how much more I can take. By the time the song ends my nether region is drenching wet and I am so ready to go all the way with him.

I have never been a rapist, and God knows I would never want anyone to feel that way, but in a playful way, at this very moment, I can totally tear all his clothes off and be justified in doing so, due to the amount of teasing he is doing to me. I am so consumed by his actions, I have no foreplay in me to share, I am completely at his mercy and don’t want to escape. I just want to feel him in any way I can.

I am sure he knows that, and I’m sure he takes great pleasure in knowing that my defenses are down, but not in a malicious way, but in that sexy hunting thrilling way. At the rate he was going, I don’t think anything is going to happen.

He surprises me by running a bubble bath for the two of us in the beautiful sunken bathtub.

I am suddenly fully aware of my partial nakedness, I have never felt so exposed in all my life, I thought, even being sexually assaulted didn’t make me feel as exposed, or as bare as I do standing in front of Jayden, hearing my loud inner thoughts as I continue to disrobe.

He looks at me with lingering lustful eyes, eyes filled with desire, and the need to have me to himself. He pours oil and bubble bath into the water, making sure the temperature is just right, not too hot – not too warm, but the right amount of heat. The kind of heat that can make you sweat. It doesn’t matter, because my sweat mingles amongst the bubbles and sitting in water that smells so good, that my sweat smells good also.

We sit at opposite sides of the bathtub while he massages my feet and legs. I take notice and the hint, returning the favor, and massage his feet and legs at the same time. We both moan our satisfaction at each other massaging expertise.

Moaning in unison, “Hmm, that feels so good.”

At some point, I get lost in the moment and forget that I am supposed to be reciprocating his gesture and just melt into the back of the tub enjoying his caresses. He guides my body, leading me to turn around and lean against him, my back to his front. When I do, he wraps his arms around me while he kisses my ears, neck, and cheeks.

Asking me, “Is this OK? Are you comfortable? I really want to make love to you, but I don’t want to pressure or rush you if you’re not ready.”

My insides scream at him, Ready! Man, are you kidding? I’m so fucking ready! I turn my head to face him and can only see the side of his face and say, “You know I’m not made of glass, right? I am 18 years old. I’ve kind of dealt with my past issues, so I’m ready.”

With that reply, we make deep passionate earth-shattering love for the next two days.

After the first time we have sex, I have a nightmare that night about the first sexual encounter I have ever had. I was five years old, and my Uncle Ned was the culprit. My dream takes me back to that day like I’m living that moment in time for the first time all over again.

******************

Uncle Ned sat his overweight smelly body, facing slightly away from me, on the edge of his queen-sized bed, with its tattered bedspread and fading flowers, waving his chubby finger at me, “Come here, I want to show you sumthin.”

The years haven’t been kind to Uncle Ned. He’s lost most of his hair and put on a considerable amount of weight with age. He smells like old stale beer, which makes him smell bad. I don’t think he takes baths, but he’s nice to me when we visit, so I try to be nice to him too.

I walk closer trying desperately to get a better look at what Uncle Ned wants to show me. Craning my neck as much as possible to see but not really seeing anything. What’s he holding? Maybe it’s a surprise, something special, just for me, but his big hands, hands as large as feet, won’t let me get a good look.

The stark room’s only light came from the glow of the television lurking in the back corner bouncing greyish-blue light off the dingy white walls covered in decades of second-hand smoke. The carpet is worn from years of being on the floor.

There’s a TV tray next to Uncle Ned’s huge leg, with a recently discarded plate of food, most of which landed on his dingy sweaty dirty shirt, as well unopened letters resting near the empty plate. I approach slowly because I don’t know what he’s holding. The dimness of the room won’t allow me to see.

I feel the hairs on the back of my neck start to prickle with anxiety and I don’t know why I feel this way. I like Uncle Ned. He’s always been nice to me. He always gives me money for candy at the corner store when we visit Ma’Dear, but today, he’s different. Like he’s got a juicy secret that he can only tell to me.

He smiles at me coyly, showing very little teeth, while he slowly licks his top lip, speaking in a gruff voice tainted by years of smoking,

“Come, girl, let me show ya. If I show you this, you can’t tell nobody bout it. You understand?”

Nodding my reply, “Yes.” I think I understand what he means but I’m not sure. I feel the tension mounting in the pit of my belly.

I don’t want to make him angry. I feel like I can make him angry if I say the wrong thing. I want to be a good girl and do as I’m told. I don’t want to get in trouble. Children are always supposed to respect their elders and do what they’re told.

“This will be our own special secret. Okay?” Uncle Ned said, looking for my confirmation while he beckoned me to come closer to him.

Again, I nod. Each step makes me more nervous. The butterflies in my stomach are in a full panic because I can’t figure out what to expect. I don’t know how I’m supposed to act. I just keep putting one tiny foot in front of the other, slowly closing the distance between us.

“Don’t be scared. I won’t hurt you none. I just want you to touch it for me. I’m ma show you how. Okay?” Tilting his head to point to his slightly open legs.

Fear continues to tighten the muscles in my stomach, making my butterflies frantic with panic. I continue forward, taking tinier steps, with tiny feet; wringing tiny fingers behind my back. He didn’t seem to want anything bad. He didn’t seem like he’s gonna hurt me. He just seems weird, a bit off, not his usual playful self.

As a five-year-old, I’m not sure I have the words to describe the feeling in the pit of my belly, but I know I don’t feel right. I feel peculiar. I can’t control my body, nor the pull he has on me. I want to see, but something’s telling me I don’t. I can’t stop my feet from moving towards him. Maybe it’s his sheer will and presence that compels me to keep moving forward so he can show me “sumthin”. The something he’s holding in his hand between his legs, close to the top of his thighs. This does not feel right – when I touched it.

I have no more steps to take. I stand in front of Uncle Ned as he reaches for my hands, “Now there girl, give me both your little hands. They’s so small, you gonna need to use both em.” He says as he places both my hands on what’s between his thighs.

I’ve never seen anything like it before. It was long, hard, and sort of wet, like from sweat or something thick and slick like Vaseline or lotion. It felt warm, warmer than I thought it should be. The smooth part looks slick and shiny. It’s different from the longer part’s skin. It doesn’t look anything like my baby brother’s wee-wee, but it’s in the same place as his, but a lot bigger.

I hold out my hands. He takes them, placing them on the long smooth body part with its slick shiny top. He puts his hands over mine, so I can’t take them back. The pressure of his hands holding mines hurts, making me squirm. I don’t think I care for this surprise. I don’t understand it, it’s not something I know. Uncle Ned starts to mumble incoherently under his breath while moving my small hands back and forth.

“Just like that precious baby,” Uncle Ned said while holding my hands in motion on him. “There you go baby girl, your surprise will be here in a few minutes, okay?” He said in a sing-songy voice.

With eyes wide and curious I ask, “A surprise for me?” What kind of surprise? Where’s he hiding it? I don’t see any surprises. I keep my eyes on Uncle Ned’s face, watching it change expressions. His skin darkening while beads of sweat form on his forehead.

He’s squeezing my hands too tight. My fingers are numb. His thing feels harder. I decided right then and there to call it a ‘thing’ because I don’t know what else to call it. It’s his and it’s on his body, so it’s his thing.

Before I complete my current thought, something whitish and thick comes out the top of his thing. Shocked at what happened, I speak with surprise and curiosity, “Ooo-wee, what’s that?” I ask, he doesn’t answer me.

His breathing is deep and hard. Sweat drips from his face, and small droplets land on my numb fingers. He drops back, seemingly exhausted, on his bed, struggling to catch his breath, “That was good baby girl. Did you see the surprise? Here, clean your hands,” as he hands me a soiled towel from the other side of the bed.

I stand motionless, confused about what just happened. I feel tears that haven’t fallen yet. I won’t cry. Uncle gave me a surprise. I gotta be nice. Nice girls don’t cry when they get gifts. They say thank you.

“You did good baby. Uncle Ned is thankful you such a sweet baby. Now I want you to be a good girl and remember your promise, and don’t tell nobody, kay? Member, you said it was gonna be our special secret, right?” He said, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand.

Stunned by the recent events, I nod my reply, while I wipe the sticky whitish stuff off my hands, wondering why he made me touch him there, like that.

After a few moments, he told me, “Get me a beer out the fridge. Get yoself a pop. You did real good for ole Uncle Ned,” winking with a silly smirk on his face.

Walking into the kitchen, tears sit at the ridge of my eyes, burning and blurring my vision. In my head screaming, “I don’t want no pop! I don’t want to drink anything! I just want to find my grandma.” I just want to sit with her and Ma’Dear while they talk about old times and old people, but I got to get Uncle Ned’s beer because I always do as I’m told. I’m a good girl. I don’t get in trouble like my brothers. They always in trouble for doing something they’re not supposed to.

I want to tell them I got a special surprise, that I don’t like much, and tease them about it. I promised Uncle I wouldn’t tell anybody bout his special surprise, and I don’t ever break my promises…

Uncle Ned took the cold beer from my trembling hand, not giving me a second glance and said, “Gon outside and play with yo brothers now. Remember yo promise. Don’t you tell our special secret.” As an afterthought, he tells me, “Next time you come over, I’m ma make sure I give you some money for the corner sto.”

**************************

I remember the silhouette of his body. I remember the events that transpired. I remember how he smells; sweaty and grimy. I remember the roughness of his hands as they hold mine in place tightly under his. I remember his clothes damp to the touch. I remember the gravel in his throat when he spoke. I remember the details of the room where it happened, but not once, can I remember his face.

There is one more thing I remember, how I felt afterward, me standing there confused and scared as if I’d done something wrong. What he did was mean for making me feel that way…

I truly cannot remember his face, but the essence of him haunts my dreams often.

That dream shook me to the depths of my soul. Jayden can never find out, he will never touch me again, or look at me the same. I told him about this incident during our heart-to-heart, because it was my first sexual encounter. I didn’t think it would come back in the darkness and get me. Like I said before, Me and darkness don’t get along and we never will.

***************

Author’s Note: Thank you for waiting patiently for this chapter. I am still deep into revisions and working on them as quickly as I can. I am happy that you are keeping up with Topaz and the changes her life encounters. She’s still got a ways to go.

Please continue to practice social distancing. Stay safe and healthy.

Peace and Blessings – CV Davis

© 2020 | CV Davis, All Rights Reserved

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