I help at the little coffee station after the service— many Sundays I don’t like to, but my family is well known, and I must “be the example”. I am carrying a long sleeve of cups across the squared courtyard where I can see everything and everyone. There in the courtyard, they all gather like cockroaches— I should say “like ants”, but I am a bit dramatic. There are so many people walking, talking, laughing, hugging, that I am almost invisible; I like that.
In a split of a second Blake’s presence fills the open courtyard and I begin to watch him with my peripheral vision. I do not understand myself sometimes, just a little bit ago I hated Blake. He makes me cringe, but I want his attention. He makes feel insecure, but I want him to want me. From the sea of voices, I can hear his laughter echo, my heart immediately races, and my palms are sweaty.
I have always been, what people call, un niña buena, to my family, to those around me, especially to everyone at church. Something I do not want leaked out, is the fact that I like sex a lot; I never told anyone the first time I had sex and, yet my mother claims “que El Espiritu Santo” told her. Well, I begged my parents not to tell a soul, but I know that they themselves did not want anyone to know. I know my parents want to maintain their status of “perfect Christian parents” with their “sinless Christian children”, if only they knew how many blow jobs I’ve given.
Blake knows how to ignore me, he knows how to be so close by, I can smell his very expensive cologne yet emotionally apart that it seems like we are strangers. I see Dino, a church friend that I actually enjoy talking to, he is into fashion and a little feminine for my taste, he is witty and funny, very funny. As we began to talk, I feel all my senses rise and I purposely laugh louder and harder so that Blake can hear me, I even exaggerate my hand movements as I continue the conversation. I feel stupid for doing so, but in this moment my body finds it necessary— I need to show Blake that I am not focused on him, when in fact I actually am.
The courtyard starts to clear out, people must be heading toward the second service and I lost track of Blake, damn he is probably apart of that worship team as well; dammit, now I am getting a little melancholy.
From behind me Blake’s voice makes clitoris throb, “Why haven’t you ‘text’ me back?”
“I didn’t know you actually wanted me to answer,” I sneered without my control.
I grab a rag and clean up the pretend crumbs and coffee stains— I do not look up; I don’t want to seem eager.
“So, I’ll see you tonight after the 7 o’clock service, same place, don’t be late or else you are not getting this holy meat.”
When I realize he left, I come down to earth and wonder if anyone saw him talking to me; I look around and I don’t see anyone whose opinion matters to me. Hmm, my panties are wet, very wet; it makes me smile. I know I am a descarada, but right now I do not care.
This week has been a bit busy for me, so I do apologize for this late post. I have to tell you that I cannot stop thinking about Eve Romano, isn’t she crazy? I love her. I hope you are enjoying this material as much as I am enjoying writing it. Thank you for being a fan of my work. If you must critique, please critique me kindly.