“You ready, Ms. Brimm?” Azmir called out disrupting my introspection. That meant dinner was ready, I’d hope.
Azmir prepared spaghetti with Italian sausage, a salad, and the baguette I brought over. It was delicious to say the least. I don’t know if that was because I was hungry or the man had spaghetti-making skills but whatever it was it worked that night. As I apparently ripped through two plates he threw a few joshing remarks my way. I was so hungry that I didn’t even care. I just laughed with a mouth full of food. Ever the lady! The merlot had settled in and once we were done, we went into the living room where Brownstown’s “5 Miles to Empty” was softly playing in the background. I loved that group.
We sat on the couch drinking and laughing—I laughed, Azmir chuckled. We even played the ‘what’s your favorite’ game. I learned his favorite movie, food, color, songs, artists, and restaurants among other things. I could tell Azmir grew comfortable and easy as the evening progressed. Things had gotten so relaxed that we eventually moved on to spitting our best rap eight bars. I tried to get him to sing and he said I already had him out there; he wouldn’t go that far. We started talking more about our worse dates, particularly about our first times. That led to the two different types of sexual intercourse—making love and smashing, as Azmir put it.
“See when you smash there’s not much foreplay involved. You just go for what you know…penetration. I know some dudes that use head as the foreplay, but nonetheless smashing takes place,” he informed me. Clearly, the alcohol forced us into a lax space. We were saying things that we wouldn’t have previously, without liquid courage.
I added, “Speaking from personal experience, when I smash as you put it, I like to start with oral as foreplay, too. The idea is getting yours, right? And you know a man is going to get his, but a woman isn’t guaranteed so I make sure I’m in a position—no pun intended—to get mine.”
“Really? Hmmmmm…” Azmir pondered over my statement with a ruminative posture. Did I say too much? “So why can’t you get yours during intercourse? Women can have orgasms by way of sex,” he stated facetiously yet with a pensive undertone.
Damn! I did say too much! I never liked discussing the fact that I’d never climaxed vaginally, it made me feel inexperienced and not in tuned with my body. This wasn’t the impression I wanted to give Azmir. Besides, he wasn’t speaking with transparence like I’d slipped up and done.
“Yes, some of us do, but that’s just Rayna speaking…you know, from my experience.”
“What’s that supposed to mean, girl?” he asked furrowing his eyebrows. This man was so damn sexy. I was at such a disadvantage there with him that evening.
“What I mean is that I just disclosed something about me and you’re telling me what some dudes do,” I scolded.
“So what are you saying?” he asked with a raised brow. His mouth twitched into an alluringly wick grin.
“What do you consider making love? No. How do you make love?” I laid it out. He paused and smiled timidly. He tried to take a long sip of his cognac buying time. I widened my eyes and motioned my head to urge him to answer.
“What? You really want me to answer that?”
“If I didn’t I wouldn’t have asked, Jacobs!” I said giving him the ‘don’t B.S. me’ glare.
After another pause he said, “Alright,” giving a hard and smooth exhale. The smell of brandy on his breath furthered my intoxication and suddenly my breasts felt extremely weighty and constrained in my bra.