adult conversation - part 1

did you like it?

We are sitting around the glass table at the spot. Pusha is sitting opposite me rolling a blunt. Carefully, he breaks up the cigar and pours the guts into the small plastic trashcan that sits between his legs. Afroman is sitting on my right with his back to the table. The playstation control rests in his palms and his concentration is on the television screen in front of him. I sit with my notebook, attempting to not let the session turn into an opportunity for procrastination. Missy’s “Work It” is blaring on the radio and we all nod our heads to the music. I sing the chorus each time she gets to it, dancing in my seat.

The song comes to an end and Afroman gets up to put on a new cd. In the brief moments of silence before the cd starts, Afroman begins telling Pusha about an episode he had the night before involving some young thing from around the way. I am half listening to the boy talk, half writing haiku in my notebook and only catch bits and pieces of the conversation as it flies by me.

" ... big ass titties man. I mean dayum! I was lovin' that shit."

"Dayum my nigga, like that?"

"Dog. I'm telling you. Then .... lickin’.... suckin’.... the bomb."

"Word nigga?"

"Word. Then she tried some freaky shit."

'What?"

"My nigga. I was laying on the bed and she was sucking my ... and then she ... and I was like bitch get off my ass!"

They have my attention. I put my pen down and turn to face them.

"Wait, what?"

I slip into the conversation as if I had been there all along. Afroman keeps right on flowing.

"That bitch stuck her tongue in my ass."

"Oh."

I had thought it seemed much worse than that.

I suspect there is more to the story and I prod him to continue.

"And?"

"I just told her to stop."

"You were with some girl who was licking your ass and you told her to stop?"

My disbelief shows in my voice.

"Yeah man."

I probe.

"Why?"

"Because it felt weird."

I probe again.

"Weird like you felt uncomfortable or weird like just a weird feeling overall that gave no pleasure."

"Weird like I didn't want no bitch licking my ass."

Pusha looks at me and I look at him and we grin at each other. Pusha turns the volume down on the stereo and the room grows silent.

"Dog, tell the truth, you didn't like that shit?"

Pusha is looking at his homeboy in disbelief. Afroman doesn't answer. Pusha turns to me.

"Monique, you like getting licked on your ass?"

"Nigga do you?"

I say it quickly, deflecting off me to him.

He volleys back to me.

"I'm asking you."

I give in.

"Yeah, I like it."

He laughs knowingly.

“I knew you did. Monique, you ain’t nothing but a big ole freak. I bet you like kinky sex.”

I start laughing. This isn’t the first time Pusha has tried to engage me in a conversation like this. Call it feeling out the territory. He’s propositioned me more than once. We've talked shit with each other before and I know that he is interested in a round or two with me. I know this and I use this knowledge to my advantage because it works for me in certain situations. I know that he thinks sex between the two of us is inevitable. Call it the wearing down factor. He’s under the impression that if he continues talking to me about it and drawing me out I will fall out of my panties.

“Don’t laugh girl. Answer the question.”

"You didn't ask one."

"He said are you a freak."

Afroman has found his tongue. Apparently he was going to try and turn the conversation on me. I recognize this move and I don't let him get away with it. Pusha is way ahead of me and cuts in before I can get my retort out.

"Aww nigga, you scared to admit you like it when a bitch lick your ass."

He says it and stares at Afroman, daring him to open his mouth again. Afroman sits silently for a moment, stewing. Pusha gives me a look that says, he's gonna get mad and leave and I silently nod my head in agreement. Afroman has gotten up from the table and is busy changing disks on the PS2.

I grin and glance over at Pusha. His eyes are focused on the blunt he’s rolling but a huge grin is spread across his face. It becomes apparent that we are both trying to hold in our laughter. I look at Afroman again and I can feel him squirming under the weight of the question in the air.

“What?”

He says it in an exasperated tone, like he wants us to let the subject die. We do for the time being. I turn my attention away from Afroman and towards the blunt that Pusha is rolling. He's putting the finishing touches on it and I'm ready to blaze it. As he digs in his pockets for a lighter, his attention is focused on me again. I get nervous; I can tell from the look on his face that he's up to no good. I do my best to feign a look of innocence as I turn to watch Afroman play NBA Street.

"Monique."

I hear Pusha call my name but I try and pretend that the music is too loud and the PS2 is too loud and I don't hear him. He says it again, this time louder.

"Monique."

A giggle escapes my lips and my cover is blown. I turn my head toward him and give him a look of exasperation.

"What Pusha?"

He doesn't miss a beat.

“Are you a freak?”

“Define freak.”

“You don’t know what a freak is?”

“I know what I consider to be freaky, but that might not match with what you consider to be freaky.”

‘How do you like your sex?”

I start laughing again.

“In a bed mostly,” I say to him matter-of-factly.

“I think you likes to get down.”

I grin, he grins and we are sitting there like co-conspirators, cheesing at each other.

Afroman is playing PS2 and trying to pretend he's not listening.

“Where’s the lighter,” Pusha asks after a moment.

I dig through my purse and produce one, passing it to him to light the blunt. He places the blunt in his mouth, flicks the lighter and holds the flame to the end of the blunt, all without taking his eyes off me. I know this because I am not taking my eyes off him. The stare down has begun.

"So whatchu like?"

He asks it in a voice that is straining from the effort of him trying to hold all the smoke in his lungs and talk to me at the same time. It's that airless rasp that comes with the strain of trying to prevent your lungs from expelling a foreign gas (smoke?) out of them.

"What do I like?"

I ask it even though I know exactly what he means. I'm stalling and he can tell. He starts laughing again and takes another hit of the blunt before passing it to me.

"What's your favorite position?"

I manage to let that one hit me without causing me to choke on the smoke I'm inhaling. I look at him and twist my lips into a grin without opening my mouth. My attention returns to the blunt. I take two more hits then pass the blunt back to him. I take my time blowing out the smoke I'm holding.

"My favorite position? Probably doggy style."

"I knew it."

He nods his head and passes the blunt to Afroman. Afroman takes it without looking at him and continues to play PS2. He wants no part of this conversation.

"You knew what?" I say it and make eye contact with him. He’s looking back at me.

"I knew you liked to get hit from the back." He says it with authority, taking the blunt from Afroman and passing it to me.

"Ok, how would you know something like that?"

"You can just look at you and tell."

I roll my eyes to the top of my head.

"You ever had a nigga tell you he need his tennis shoes on to fuck you from behind?"

"Uh ... no, what the fuck?" I say this as flashbacks of "She's Gotta Have It" play in my head.

"That nigga ain't hittin' it right then."

I laugh.

"What do you mean?"

"When a nigga is hittin' it from behind, do you just sit there and take it or do you throw that ass back at him?"

I laugh hard.

"I help him out a bit."

"Exactly. Nigga, I'ma tell you to scoot to the edge of the bed. I'ma put my tennis shoes on and stand behind you and hit it like that. My shoes are gonna provide traction so when you get ready to throw that ass back, I ain't going nowhere."

I lose it at this point and begin laughing so hard I can hardly catch my breath.

"I ain't lyin. I'm serious than a muthafuckah."

"And for some reason, I believe you."

I turn the stereo back up in an effort to steer the conversation in another direction. He turns it back down and looks at me again.

"You ever been with a girl Monique?"

“What the fuck? Did we suddenly engage ourselves in a game of 20 questions?”

“Just answer the question.”

"Damn, you are getting all extra personal, ain't you?"

He laughs.

"Naw, I'm not. I’m just trying to find out what you like. You can tell that you are into sex. The norm probably doesn't get it for you. I want to know what does."

"Ohhh. Okay." I make the sarcasm apparent when I say it.

"What?"

He gives me a confused look.

"Nothing." I say it and shrug my shoulders, picking my pen up again.

"What?" He uses the same exasperated tone Afroman used earlier.

"How can you tell that I'm into sex?"

"So you are?"

"I'm not saying that. I'm asking what that looks like to you."

"I mean, just from conversations we've had before and just how you act sometimes, I can tell you a freak."

I laugh.

"Okay Pusha."

"What?"

"Nothing."

"What?"

"Damn negro, nothing. Just tripping off you and your questions.”

"I'm just asking. Have you been with a girl before? Shit, if you have, ain't nothing wrong with it. "

"Oh, I know nothing is wrong with it. I just wanna know why you want to know."

"Cause, damn we homies. I'm just asking. Besides, I might be trying to hook you up with some freaky shit, you never know."

“So now you think I’m a freak?”

"Shit, it's a good thing. The downest broads I been with have been freaks. They like to have the most fun and they are the ones that don't get hung up. The ones that's not freaky - that's into "makin' love" - they ain't down for a lot of freak shit cause they don't want you to think they a ho."

"I wouldn't call myself a freak. I would just say that I'm a sexual person. I like sex, I enjoy having it and I think it should be uninhibited and an enjoyable experience for both parties."

"Damn. You broke that shit down, all textbook style and shit."

I laugh.

"That's just how it is for me. I mean, what do you consider a freak? What's freaky?"

"You ever been with a girl that was like a dude?"

"You mean one that looks like a dude?"

“No. I mean one that likes to play the part. Strap on and everything.”

“No.”

“But you have been with a girl before?”

“Yeah.”

"So what did y'all do? Just lick on each other?"

"Damn, I'm not gonna tell all of that. Next question."

"Would you ever use a strap on?"

"Yeah."

"You would? I mean would you use it to fuck another girl?"

"Hell yeah I would."

He finds this amusing and starts laughing.

"You would beat it up Monique?" Both he and Afroman laugh at this. Afroman pauses the PS2 so that he can turn and face us. The conversation is getting deeper.

"Why nigga, you want to watch?"

"Hell yeah. I wanna be there and maybe join in on the action." He and Afroman give each other high fives.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah!"

"Hm."

"What?"

"Would you let me strap on for you?"

"Whatchu mean?"

"I mean could I use it on you?"

"Hell naw!"

"Why not?"

"Look here."

His face has a serious look, no smile, not even a glimmer of a grin. I try to look at him just as seriously as he is looking at me.

"Why not?" I ask it again.

"Cause I'm a real nigga."

"What?"

"I'm a real nigga. I ain't no fag."

"Um ... I'm not a man."

"Yeah, but you want to stick a dick in my ass."

"Ok ..."

"Any man that wants anything stuck up his ass is gay."

"Oh really?"

"Man. I ain't lettin' nobody stick nothin up my ass,” Afroman interjects.

“Have you fucked a girl up her ass before?" I ignore Afroman and continue grilling Pusha.

"Of course."

"Ok and? It's ok for you to fuck a girl up her ass but not okay for a girl to fuck you up your ass? I don't understand. If a girl likes to take it in the butt does that make her a homosexual male?"

"That’s different. I ain't lettin' nobody do nothing with my ass."

"Mm hmm."

"What?"

"Have you ever had a rim job?"

"A wha-"

"Nigga don't try to play it off like you don't know what the fuck I'm talking about. Have you ever had a woman lick your ass, yes or no?"

"Yeah."

“Ugh cuzz, you did that shit?” Afroman is looking at Pusha likes he’s on crack. Pusha and I ignore him again. I continue questioning.

"Did you like it?"

"Man. She was sucking my dick too though. That was different."

"It was different because she sucked your dick?"

"Yeah. She licked my balls and I guess just kept going with her tongue."

"And you liked it, right?"

"Yeah, I liked it. But that don't mean I want nobody fucking me in the ass."

"Mm hmm."

"What?"

"Have you ever had a girl stick her fingers up your butt during a blowjob?"

"What the fuck kind of question is that?"

"Oh. My bad. I thought you were a freak."

"I am."

"And you've never had a girl stick her fingers up your ass during a blow job."

Although it is a question, I say it like a declarative statement, almost as if he is on trial and I am cross-examining.

"Yeah I have."

"That was something being stuck up your ass."

"It was a finger though. Small, a female's finger. That's different than a fake dick."

"I have a little one." I laugh at my own joke, but he doesn't find it funny.

"Why do you think that would make you gay?"

"Man, I just ain't letting nobody stick no dick in my ass. Fake or real."

"You must be scared you are gonna like it."

"You let anybody fuck in the ass?"

"I have before.”

“Did you like it?”

“We aren’t talking about me. We’re talking about you and your homophobic view of sex.”

“I’m not homophobic. I don’t care if a nigga is gay, so long as he knows I ain’t.”

“Liking the feeling of having your prostate stimulated does not make you gay Pusha.”

"Well whatever, I'm not sticking nothing in my ass."

"Cause you're a real nigga."

"Exactly."

“Word,” Afroman adds and resumes playing PS2.

Pusha starts to roll another blunt, and begins a conversation about the weed we are smoking. Both men speak animatedly about the quality of the weed but I can tell something deeper is on their mind. They both know I’m not going to let the conversation die. I’ll let it rest for now, but it’s far from over.

to be continued...