the love below

I was cool with this one chick. I didn't know her well enough to say anything on the contrary of her being cool. We hung out one time months before the story I'm telling you now. We got a bite to eat. Got some drinks. Had conversation. Exchanged background info and chuckled and laughed all the while. Good times. From that time to this story we ran into each other at the gym at least once a week. Nothing different happened from my perspective that could explain a change in the course of events so any insight on that would have to come from her. What I do know is I got a text from her asking if I wanted to come by her spot and watch this documentary on TV once I left the gym. I accepted the invite and asked her if there was anything I should bring. She suggested a bottle of wine. Cool was the response I gave but nervousness was the feeling once we disconnected. Not because I was going over her place, but because I didn't know anything about picking wines. (Hell, I don't really know much more now than I did then.)

Anyone that knows me, may or may not be aware that I tend to play things down in regards to 'matters of the heart'. And it for that very reason that when I ended up staying the night (per her suggestion since it was very late) I assumed I was going to crash on the couch. And it was still for that same reason that when I ended up laying in her bed (again, per her suggestion), it never crossed my mind that something would 'go down' (no pun intended).

Now, as I write this, I have to ponder on the possibility that maybe she was really clever with hers. Before I got into the bed with her, she insisted that I remove my shorts and shirt because I wore them to the gym and that would be unsanitary. So…yours truly was in his boxers while she lay in her tank top and shorts. I know...I know. She had me stripped down to my essentials like she was running things. What did I do? Uh…nothing.

Me and her. We were cool. There weren't enough 'signs' for me to even think about making a move. Was I going to show her that I only had sex on my mind and was incapable of laying besides an attractive woman without making a pass at her? Absolutely not.

Fast forward.

A week and some goes by. She's at my place. We're watching 'Breakin'' commenting on the homo-erotic undertone of the movie. We're drinking wine again. Buggin' out. Pointing out different things. The combination of the libations and the long week had her knocked…out. The tables turn and she's staying the night (per my invitation). I tell her it's time for to get in the bed. She feigns reluctance, albeit unconvincingly. I give her a shirt to change into, leave the room to put things away and turn things off. I get back and she's already found her way under the covers…fast asleep. Ten minutes later, I find myself following suit.

Skip ahead a couple of hours and we're at the part where I wake up from her backing herself into me slightly. As fast as I open my eyes, I close them. Move ahead some more and she's done it again but with emphasis. A certain level of comfort has been reached now so I put my hand on her waist/hip area. My eyes stay open this time because she's pantyless. Yes, sans cullote.

Now, I'm confused, shocked, puzzled and yes…a little flustered. I'm lying. A LOT flustered. She, up against me. Shirt, up around her waist. And as a result, I was up too. (I'm a man, dammit. Don't judge me.)

"Maybe I'll just roll over and lay on her booty. Yeah. Naw naw naw. Now just lay here and be cool, Ice Cold."

Andre 3000 - Where are my Panties? from The Love Below.

Long story made slightly shorter. I didn't come on to her. Not because she scared the sht out of me when she woke up that morning and immediately asked (with a serious tone) where her panties were. She thought it was funny. I didn't. Not at first. 10 minutes later? Maybe. I didn't make that move because my sixth sense advised against it.



Yes, men have a sixth sense when it comes to you all. I'll explain next time…