“What’s the question?”
“Are you ready for the question?”
“I just said…dammit, I’m ready. What’s your question, Mo?”
“Where are all the brothers who eat booty like groceries?”
It’s completely silent for several seconds and then we both start giggling uncontrollably. My head, hanging upside down, bobs against the back of the couch. Mona, stretched out on the floor, staring up at the ceiling fan, cackles and grips her midsection.
“Is this keeping you up at night?” I ask. “Not is the overall temperature of our planet rising at an unsustainable rate? Not how will we address the problem of mass incarceration? Or equal pay for women? But your existential question centers around men who eat ass?”
“I need a man who’s not afraid to put in that work. I mean, girls can do it for ourselves, but we can’t do that. And I get sick of getting myself off. I wanna share the burden.”
I snort. “Ain’t that the truth.”
“My BOB gets the job done, yeah, but it’s not…intimate. Ya know what I mean?” The amusement fades from Mona’s expression. “There’s nothing like being touched.”
Like the urgent squeeze of Ezra’s hands on me, the caress of his breath. The gentle touch of something as simple as being helped down to the ground. The desperate need in how tightly he clutched me. It had been affirming.
Mona’s right. There’s nothing like the touch of someone who wants you as much as you want them.
“I miss being fucked,” Mona says. She sits up and reaches for her wine, shunning the glass and taking the bottle straight to her lips. “Feeling a man inside me, hitting that spot over and over, that makes me lose my mind. Clawing and scratching because the shit is so good. I miss being kissed and held.”
She lies back down. “Hell, I miss waking up with somebody beside me. That morning wood poking you from behind.” Her laugh is bittersweet. “My ex liked to fuck first thing. Said there was nothing better to start off his day than…” She shakes her head, leaving the thought incomplete.
“You miss him?” I ask softly.
“He cheated on me.” She bites her bottom lip and takes another swig of wine. “Yeah, I miss his trifling ass.”
“I’m sorry, Mo. How’d you find out?”
“Oh, he was decent enough to tell me himself because he wanted out. Sat me down and said he’d met someone at work. She was younger, skinnier and lighter than me, but, of course, none of those things mattered to him. Their minds had met on an intellectual plane.”
She shoots me an icily ironic look. “Bitch did graduate from Penn. Made me sick. Miss I Got Everything And Your Man. He better not be eating her ass. He never ate booty or did any freaky, adventurous shit with me.”
Mona’s funny as hell even when she’s hurting, so an involuntary smile quirks my lips. One she ruefully returns.
She sits up again, cross-legged, and flings her long dreadlocks over one shoulder. “I could have cheated. Think I didn’t have offers? Opportunities? I did, but I would never do that to another person.”
I sit up, leaving my legs in the air resting against the back of the couch, but propping my elbows on the edge. “I kissed Ezra.”
As soon as the confession hits the air, I want to take it back. Damn wine, loosening my lips and lowering my guard.
“Kimba,” Mona groans, dropping her head to her hands. “You said you had this under control. That you were just friends. Just gonna talk.”
“Yeah, but that was before he told me—”
“I don’t care what he told you.” Mona stands a little unsteadily, the fog clearing from her eyes. “That’s somebody else’s man. A good woman. A friend of mine. The mother of his child.”
“But Mo—”
“Don’t but Mo me. They’ve been together almost ten years. You can’t just waltz into their lives from on high for a month and tear that family apart.”
“I’m not tearing anything apart. I—”
“How could you, Kimba?”
“She’s fucking someone else,” I blurt. Were I completely sober, I doubt I would have said that.