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Discipline (5/?)

“Look Into My Eyes”  Janelle Monae
"Weak" SWV
"You Don't Know My Name" Alicia Keys
“Would You Mind?”  Janet Jackson
“Don't Let Go," En Vogue

I went home after lunch.  I was tired; my plane didn’t land until late yesterday, and I needed to be in the office this morning.  I could do what I needed to do from my home office, but truth be told, I just wanted to sit, eat some fruit, sip some sparkling water and think about the mistake I’d made agreeing to dinner with a co-worker.  I knew better than that, but he caught me clean off guard today.  My flowers were, simply put, stunning.  And that fruit…direct from the valley of Olympus.  He chose carefully and well, and spent a coin on it.  Not that that bit of it fazed me; if a man seeks to woo me, he better know he’s gotta spend to do so.  And not always cash.

I took a shower first, and then put on a dress made of a thin, gauzy fabric.  I picked up a few chunks of fruit, got a bottle of water, and plucked a lily and a rose from my beautiful arrangement before sitting down on the couch.  I turned on the stereo; Janelle Monae’s “Look Into My Eyes” came on.  I felt pretty and warm, pleasantly so because of Kelton’s attentions.  It has been a long time since I’ve had that kind of interest paid to me, and it never gets old.  It’s just…nice.  I smiled as I sniffed the flowers, ate the fruit, and thought about when and where our date would be.  I hoped he was smart enough not to fuck this thing up.  I hoped I was smart enough to leave it wherever it ended that evening.  And never pick it back up again.

Then I knew I wasn’t alone.  He was there, in a white shirt, open at the throat, crucifix gleaming, black jeans and barefoot.  There was something sinuously sexy about men walking around in jeans while barefoot... at least I thought so. ­ Besides, he had nicely shaped feet.  He came in and saw the flowers and the box of fruit on my table and then looked at me.  I shrugged and made a motion for him to help himself.  He waved it off and came over to where I was sitting.  I started to get up, but he sat next to me before I could do so.

“I’ve already taken a bath,” I said.

“I know.  So have I.”

That begged the question.  What did he want? Our actions were restricted; the boundaries set, the rules of play established.  As they have been for weeks.

“Do you want some fruit?”

He took a pineapple chunk off my plate and bit into it.  He closed his eyes, enjoying the flavors.  A dot of pineapple juice rested comfortably in the dip of his lip and I found myself thinking about the last time we were together.  He finished the chunk and sucked juice off his thumb before licking his lips.

Look into my eyes…watch them hypnotize...

“When did you get back?” he asked.

“Last night.”

“Are you tired?”

I looked over at him.  I was never too tired for sexy times with him, but I’d just taken a shower and I really didn’t feel like drawing a bath.  “I told you; I’ve already bathed.”

“And I told you that I have too.”

SWV's "Weak" came on right after Janelle.  I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. “What do you want?”  What else was there?

“I think it’s time we changed a few rules.”

“No,” I said.

“Yes,” he said, and before I knew it, he had me in his arms, straddling his lap, looking into his endless blue eyes.  His hands were on my ass and all I could think about at that second was about how thin my dress was.  The man was strong.  Have I mentioned that yet?  How strong he was?  How he could hold me tight, hold me hard, hold me the way a woman needs to be held?  How safe I felt when he had his arms around me?  He’s so strong.  It was a definite bonus.  He lifted me like I weighed absolutely nothing.  “Yes,” he said again, staring at me.

“No,” I said.  “There’s a contract.”

“Contracts can be re-negotiated.”

“Not this one.”

“Not entirely your decision to make.”  He squeezed my ass.

“What do you want?”

He put a finger on my chin and then moved it upwards, tracing my lips over and over and over.  As he did this, he said, “I want to put my mouth on you.”

I get so weak in the knees...I can hardly speak...I lose all control and something takes over me...

I closed my eyes.  This was very dangerous territory.  I recalled him boldly sticking his tongue in my navel and kissing my toes.  I also recalled how safe it was for me to keep everything intact when he didn't speak.  You see, he's British, but he moved to the States at a young age and grew up in Southwest Atlanta.  He was one of those vanilla bruhs; a white boy who grew up fully immersed in southern black culture, but he never lost his British accent in spite of being raised in SWATs.  The combination was absolutely sublime, especially when he spoke.  Whenever he talked, I got weak in the knees.  That the song "Weak" was playing while I thought about this was torture.  I think he knew it too.

For a moment, I wondered if the women at his job felt the same way.  Did he have a girlfriend?

“I want to kiss you. To eat you.  To lick you.  To taste you.  It's time.  Change the rules.  My mouth's dry.”

“I can’t,” I said.  He asked if he could kiss me that the last time we were together and I pretended not to hear him.

Boy, it's something I can't explain...something 'bout the way you do the things you do...it knocks me right off of my feet...

A very long moment passed where I tried to look everywhere except in his eyes.  But I couldn't.  It wasn't in me.  He cocked his head to one side and rolled the toothpick to the other.  “You mean to tell me that what I’ve seen in your eyes is a lie?  You’re saying that you don’t want to know what it’s like to kiss me?  That you don’t want to know how salty my skin is, or how I feel in your mouth?  I thought we didn’t bullshit each other?  That’s also in the contract.”

I wanted to look away but I was stronger than that.  But he was right. I did want to know, but I was disciplined.  I could control my needs, but I couldn’t have everything I wanted.  Life is tedious that way.

Then the music changed to motherfuckin’ Janet Jackson’s “Would You Mind?”

His fingers were on my cheeks.  “You can’t keep your hands out of my pants.  You can’t keep your fingers off my dick.  But you deny me, as if you think I don’t want to know what it’s like in paradise? As if I don’t want to know what it feels like to have your nipples between my teeth or my tongue in your heat.  I imagine it, you know.  I think about it a lot, and I can’t help but get hard because I want it so bad.  I’m tired of wondering what you feel like.  I’m tired of wondering what you taste like.  I need to know.  So if you’re going to renege on the contract by lying to me, then I’m going to renege by kissing you."  He paused and rolled the toothpick before murmuring, "I need to kiss you.”

Baby…would you mind touching me….ever so slowly…you’re making me quiver…

I took a deep breath, my hands on his cheeks.  “I’m…”

“Are you lying to me?  We agreed that we wouldn’t do that; that for this thing to be as good as it’s been, we would never do that.  So, are you lying?  Are you lying to me?”

I closed my eyes.  “Yes.”

“Then what’s the problem?  You just said that you can’t change the rules, and unless I missed you coming down from Mount Sinai with two rock tablets, then this thing isn’t etched in stone.  Relationships evolve.  This one clearly has.  Let me kiss you.  Let me touch you.  Let me taste you.  I have never once, with the exception of the other night, kept you from handling me.  I like it.  I’m not a fool; we both like it when you get me off.  Do you not want my hands or my mouth down here?"  He wiggled his hips and ol' boy said "Hello."  Then he looked at me, a different expression in his eyes.  "Does penetration bother you?  What’s going on here?”

“We need boundaries.”

“We have boundaries.  I don’t know who you are or what you do, where you work or what kind of car you drive.  I don’t know your birth date, your favorite color, or how old you are.  I don’t even know your name.  I just know that you’re my neighbor; a beautiful woman that I am attracted to and intimate with because of our mutual passion—which hasn’t dampened, in case you haven’t noticed. I believe that it has intensified.  I know that I want to see you almost every day, and I think you feel the same.  If you're not at my place, then I'm at yours.  We can't stay away from each other.  The boundaries are diminishing.”

I couldn't let that happen.  “Don’t you like it like this?”

“I’d like it a lot more if we could do more.”

“This is good.  It’s not messy.  It’s not problematic.  We satisfy each other’s needs...”

“Needs change.  Now I need to know if your lips are as soft as they look, if your mouth is as sweet as I imagine it is, if you taste as good as I think you do.  What do you need from me?”

I couldn’t lie to this man.  I could lie to myself—I do—but not to him.  We agreed that we wouldn’t ever lie to one another.

“What do you need?”

I closed my eyes.  “What do you think I need?”

I just want to touch you, tease you, lick you, please you, love you, hold you, make love to you…

That omnipresent toothpick swirled back and forth and he smirked.  “How would you like for me to put it?  That you need to be kissed regularly, fucked daily, spanked weekly, and sexed thoroughly.  You need someone to be both rough and smooth with you, to know how far to take you, to command and be commanded by you, and to make you come...hard.  That’s what you need.”

“You’re so blunt.”

“But you like it when I am, and you haven’t said that I couldn’t be the one to do all of those things, or that it wasn't those things you needed.  So, are we re-negotiating the contract?”  He smacked my ass again.

And I’m gonna kiss you, suck you, taste you, ride you, feel you deep inside me…

“What are the terms?”

“What I said earlier.  I want to put my mouth on you, in you, all over you.  And I want you to do the same to me.  I don’t think that’s too much to ask.  Can't tell you how many times I've imagined those lips on my dick.”

“Don’t you have a girlfriend or something who’ll do that for you?”  Even though I didn't have even the slightest concern with giving head.  

Oh baby…would you mind?

Then the playlist rolled right on into En Vogue's "Don't Let Go."  I needed to stop listening to my music altogether.  It was too much like right.

“That’s one of the boundaries, baby,” he said.  “Nothing personal.  I mean, I could ask if you’re letting some other man hit it, but that would be too far outside the lines.  It has nothing to do with what we have, what we do. Your man ain’t got shit to do with me.  Though he is a motherfuckin' fool.”  He shook his head and spun the toothpick.

I didn’t acknowledge that last bit.  “Okay, okay.  But that’s it.  You can…have your way with me, but don’t force me to reciprocate if I don’t want to.”

What's it gonna be...cause I can't pretend...don't you want to be...more than friends?

He smiled.  “Have I ever forced you to do anything you’ve done so far?  You can sit up here and pretend you don’t want to slob my knob, but your eyes say otherwise.  I would no more stop you from doing it then I could stop the Earth from rotating.  And you certainly don’t want to issue a me blank check, because I will have my way with you, in every way that’s pleasurable to us both.”

“No.  And yes, you can put your mouth on me, but you can’t give me head.”


“I’m compromising.”

“Then you can’t give me any more handjobs.”

I couldn’t help but pout.  “No!  You’ve been allowing me to do it all this time; you can’t change your mind now because I won’t let you eat me out.”  I loved getting him off.  I loved making him weak like that.  I loved making him come with nothing but my hands and the promise, the hope of more.  God only knew what would happen if we broke the kissing barrier.  With those lips, he could probably get me to do anything he wanted.

That toothpick rolled back and forth.  “I can do any damn thing I want, beautiful.  Let’s be equal partners in this thing, now.  We're supposed to pleasure each other, so let's pleasure each other.  Let me in.”

“Why are you being so difficult?  What’s gotten into you?  Why is our current arrangement suddenly not okay?”

“I want you.  I want more of you.  I’m no longer satisfied with the terms of our agreement, and you got me thirsty as hell.  That’s all.”

Thirsty???  “There’s no way out of this?”

What's it gonna be...cause I can't pretend...don't you want to be...more than friends? 

“The only way out is to stop completely.”

I closed my eyes.  I liked this thing we had.  I didn’t want it to end.  “I don’t want that.”

“Neither do I.”

Then with ease, he put his arms around me and stood up.  I gasped and he stared at me as he carried me to my bedroom.  I clearly have lost something over the past 12 hours; I was going to have dinner with a co-worker, a subordinate…and I was going to let a perfect stranger be intimate with me in a way that…what in the hell was wrong with me?  I’m better than this.  I’m stronger than this.  I’m more disciplined than this.



  1. Needs change. Now I need to know if your lips are as soft as they look, if your mouth is as sweet as I imagine it is, if you taste as good as I think you do.

    Goddamn it, Amaya.....

  2. Lolanthe, I love you girl but you better let your neighbor lick the kitty. You got that man thirsty! If you can say yes to a date with ol Kittle Klad (Kelton) you can change the agreement with your neighbor, I'm just saying.

    Amaya you better have Floetry singing "Say Yes" for the neighbor. ....Grumble..Grumble...gaddamit...muttering to self and sucks teeth.

    1. Meanie: Great minds and alladat. I wrote Chapter 8 last night...

  3. Interesting. Last week, a couple of days before you posted the first post about this story, I was thinking about discipline, and how I needed to sort things out in my life and get more disciplined (nothing to do with men though).

  4. Picture being on public transportation reading this chapter. I felt like I was doing something naughty. Loved the update.


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