OPUS Mag

Far from timid • Caveat Lector

Fictional Series: A Nice Backstroke Part 5 (Series Finale)

Fictional Series: A Nice Backstroke Part 5 (Series Finale)

I bump into the man that I hated the most in the entire world. The man who broke my heart in a million pieces. Three years after that humiliating night, I am in a much better place. He needs to hurt as much I did.  I hate Robert.

“Well this day can’t get any worse.”

“Hi, Tay. You look amazing.”

I roll my eyes.

“Tay. I have missed you. Can you give me another chance? I still want to marry you.”

The laughter escapes my throat. Hard. This nigga had to drunk.

“Robert. Are you drunk?”

“No. Why?”

“Why do you think you are worth a chance? I would never touch you again. I wouldn’t piss on you if it guaranteed me a million dollars. I wouldn’t spit on you if Beyoncé asked me to do it. Ok, I lied. I would spit on you if Beyoncé asked. So why would you think I want to marry you?”

“Tay, I have grown from that situation.”

“You still fucking with men? Did you tell your family why I called off the wedding? Did you tell your mom that you like to fuck men in the ass?” My voice is getting louder.

“Tay, I don’t sleep with men.”

“You mean anymore?! Because there was a video on your phone showing otherwise. Seeing the man, who you love get his dick sucked by another man is life changing. He was very skilled at it, though. Shit, I’ve used those tricks on men since, and they love it.”

Shock crosses his face. My plan works.

“Robert, fuck you. Fuck your crazy ass chance. Fuck the universe for this horrible ass situation. Fuck you for breaking my heart.”

I throw the last bit of my Jameson on him and storm out of W. My Uber driver is pulling up as I walk outside. I wave her over. I get in her car and immediately the tears come.

“Baby girl, are you ok?” My driver is the older woman. She is in her 60s and is one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen. She has a fly ass bob. The front of her hair is pure white while the back is salt and pepper. She is wearing a white crew neck with a statement necklace. The necklace is in the shape of the continent of Africa. Her clear complexion is the shade of sand.

“I will be. As soon as I get from this hotel” She recites my address to me. I tell her that is the right address.

“Any music?” she asks as she hands me some tissue.

“Whatever you want. Thank you. I probably look crazy.”

“No, you look like a woman who experienced heartbreak.” She looks at me through her rearview mirror.

“That’s an understatement.” She starts to play Anita Baker, No More Tears. Talk about perfect timing.

It’s been nearly three years since I saw Robert. The last time he was near me, my ex fiancé was sitting on my steps, crying his eyes out. Begging me to come back to him. What a piece of shit. When I read those numerous messages between he and Keith, my heart broke in a million pieces. I was starting to plan my life with this man and he was getting his dick sucked by a man. A man who easily made my dick sucking skills look like trash. Well, back then. Robert completely changed how I looked at men. With the exception of Nolan, I thought they all were trash. Wet, moist trash. I start to cry again. I just wanted to be home in my bed. The crazy part? I don’t even want to be with Robert. Ever again. Seeing him now just brought back all the negative emotions I’ve worked so hard to get through.

Fifteen minutes later, my Uber driver pulls up to my apartment complex.

“Thank you for getting me home safely.”  I slip her a twenty-dollar bill.

“No problem baby. Just remember the storm doesn’t last always.”

Walking up to my apartment, I send my friends: Fred and Kaye, texts and let them know I made it home safely. The imagery of what those two are up is frightening me but they are both two consenting adults.

My bathroom is my first destination. I place my drain stopper in and turn the water to hot. Pouring my favorite Ixora bath oil, Relax and Release, into my garden tub, I add some lavender. Relaxation and sleep would be hard to come by, help is needed.  Jameson would be the last addition to the needed help. I get a bottle of Jameson out of my fridge and pour myself a shot. Laughter comes as I read the shot glass: Fuck Men. The universe is being super funny tonight. The first shot goes into the back of my throat smoothly. Fred has me drinking Jameson like it is water. Three more shots are needed. After those, I get a glass and pour me some more Jameson. I top it with a splash of ginger ale. Fred would curse me out. He loves to say that Jameson isn’t made to be mixed with anything.

Robert still wears that Burberry Classic fragrance that I love. The mixture of lavender, mint, and thyme would make my knees weak when he wore it. Now it just makes me sick. His scent is all over me, the hate I feel for this man is racing through my veins. This has to end. I am way past this part of my life. I proceed to get naked right in my kitchen, this needs to go away.

Bare as the day my mom snatched me out of her coochie, I go back into the bathroom and sit down in the tub. My body starts to adjust to this temperature known as hell. The water is perfect for scorching Robert’s smell off me, the feeling of him against my body, anything that reminded me of him.  The Jameson and ginger ale wet the back of my throat.  It’s been three years, three fucking years. He just will not give up. He still sends me flowers randomly. On my birthday, he deposits money into my bank account. I’ve donated the money to a women’s shelter, an organization that helps gay homeless teens, and the Black Lives Matter movement.

Tears slide down my face.

After I left Robert on my steps that night, I drove to my sister, Nikki’s, house and stayed with her for a month. I wouldn’t even go to the house for anything. She went to the house and got me clothes and anything I needed. I moved out of that house six weeks after that. I burned any and everything that Robert touched. Anything that reminded me of him.  Everything was burned.

Eight weeks after I left Robert, I found out I was pregnant. I cried for days at a time. My appetite was gone. The stressful conditions I was placing my body in during that time caused me to miscarry.  No fetus could survive that. Shit, I barely survived it. Robert didn’t know about the baby. No one knew outside of my immediate family members

The rest of the Jameson allows for me to take my mind off of that time in my life. I changed so much after that breakup and miscarriage.

Someone needs to take my mind off that ain’t shit man. Maybe. Dr. Head? Dr. Head could make me cum like no one else. We haven’t had sex. I mean, I’ve only take seats on Dr. Head’s face, seats that drained me until there was nothing left. Yep, I absolutely need that tonight.

After removing the drain out of the tub, I wait until all the water is out and then turn the shower on. Sitting in a tub of water always relaxes me but I feel dirty after.  Exfoliating with my honey lavender scrub, reminds me that Dr. Head loves me when I am freshly shaven. I shave my legs, underarms, and trim up the little bit of hair I have on my vagina. I clean my body off and hop out.

My phone is the first thing I look for.

To Dr. Head: I need to see you. Bad day. I need you to make me feel better.

Dr. Head: Be there in twenty.

Dr. Head always comes through. At my vanity, I apply my favorite body oil, Pussy, to my inner wrists, behind my ears, and in between my thighs. Rubbing Jergens into my body from head to toe, I get excited thinking of this ride that I am about to take. The pent of energy in my body needs to be release if I want a good night’s sleep. My baby daddies (aka my sex toys) wouldn’t do the job tonight.

Ten minutes later, my doorbell rings.

I walk to my door and open it.

Dr. Head walks into my place and looks me over from head to toe. I am wearing nothing. Dr. Head likes it. Locking the door behind me, Dr. Head pushes me into the door and drops to her knees. She lifts my right leg onto her left shoulder and goes to my secret place. I moan. I deserve this.

And yes, Dr. Head is a woman.

Who else could eat my pussy that well?

XOXO.

Author’s Note:

A Nice Backstroke is the offspring of an untitled book I am writing that surrounds Tay. *Insert screams* She has so much to say and I can’t wait for you all to read it. I will be back for more short stories with Opus Magazine! Also to everyone at Opus, thanks so much for this opportunity! It’s been an awesome ride and I can’t wait to see where this goes. To everyone else, thank you for reading my work. The numerous texts, phone calls, Facetime dates; DMs asking about this series had a girl smiling on the daily.  Thanks to everyone who contributed to the development of this story. Thank you, 8134.  In the meantime, check out the other extra, amazing, writers featured on Opus Magazine!

XOXO,

               Chiquita

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