By that I mean Ali and I liked different things sexually, and the balance of our friendship was different from the balance of our sex life. Anyway, we had discussed it calmly and rationally and decided we would be better allies if sex was kept out of it.
“If I don’t get laid today,” she said, “I’m going to fucking scream.”
“Me too,” I said. It was a bank holiday Monday, one of the loneliest days of the year, and we were twiddling our thumbs, watching TV in the afternoon, eating crisps and avoiding opening the wine until five o’clock – or at least a quarter to four.
“So what are your possibilities?” I asked.
“None of the usual suspects,” she replied gloomily. “I’ve put out feelers in several directions and nobody’s responded.”
“And yet you can bet your life there are millions of people in the world also gasping for a shag, including possibly hundreds in this postcode,” I rambled wisely.
“Exactly,” said Ali, and we fell silent for a moment. Then I had a brainwave.
“What about people we don’t normally consider, just passing fancies in our lives. Acquaintances, people we just come into contact with for a few minutes now and then but don’t really think about.”
“Such as?” Ali asked, stirred.
“Anybody in the supermarket?” I suggested. “The Indian guy? He makes a fuss of you and I’ve noticed you always go to his till.”
“Ramesh,” she mused. “You could be onto something there. I wouldn’t mind, actually. Never had an Asian before, not that that’s got anything to do with it, but, you know…’ She thought for a minute and I could see in her idle face that the thought was appealing.
“What about you?” she said. “Any of the checkout girls? Bit young, maybe.”
“Yes,” I agreed. “the only one there’s a flicker with is the one who’s always mopping the floor.”
“The West Indian woman?”
“Yes.”
“Huge tits, mega bum, aged about 30,” Ali continued.
I had a smiling relationship with this girl, who I thought was called Anesha. She had nervous eyes and gave the impression she wasn’t accustomed to being fancied, and certainly not by customers. This was pure speculation on my part, but the more I thought about it, the more I wanted to break through whatever boundaries existed. I don’t think you can give a bad name to fancying someone out of curiosity. I didn’t consider myself superior to Anesha but I could imagine she felt aware of her lowly status. She didn’t even have the glamour job, working on the checkouts and interacting with customers. It had taken three or four of my smiles to get one back from her, and I could see her wondering what I wanted from her.
As for her colour, I had had black girlfriends before and didn’t consider it a big deal, but there was an unspoken resentment that went the other way. White men didn’t like black men screwing their women, but black guys were equally territorial, and it rubbed off on the girls.
The whole issue of racism is too much of a minefield to go into here. Suffice it to say I was fast coming to the conclusion that Anesha was the girl for me on this barren, windswept afternoon.
Ali and I hatched a plan. We would tell Ramesh and Anesha there was a party here at the flat we shared. We would buy some party food and drinks from their supermarket to convince them that’s what was happening, and invite them. But we would switch for the invitations. Working as a unit, I would put it to Ramesh and Ali would make the offer to Anesha.
First obstacle: would they both be working right now? We scooted round the corner and immediately spotted Ramesh on his checkout. I browsed the sausage rolls and crisps while Ali hung around the door at the back, where the employees went for their breaks. She grabbed one of the other girls and gleaned the information that Anesha had popped out for a minute but would be back.
When Anesha did return and set about mopping the aisles, we got to work. With a basketful of bits and pieces we hung around her and Ali made conversation.
Anesha had been given a body that was over-specification for sexiness. You could see she was acutely aware of her breasts and the effect they had on men, and when she walked she tried to find a way to disguise her bottom, but to no avail.
I drifted a few feet away as Ali did her charming, giggling stuff. Then she poked me in the ribs and said,
“Anesha’s coming.”
“Oh, great,” I said enthusiastically and smiled at her. She waved nervously and continued her work.
We watched the checkouts until Ramesh’s was quiet, then moved in and he walked straight into it.
“Having a party?” he said brightly. Ali took on the observer’s role as I talked bank holidays and boredom with Ramesh, and he accepted the invitation. He would come straight from work and Anesha would nip home to change.
We made it look and sound like a party. Ramesh arrived shortly after 8pm and I talked cricket with him for half an hour before Anesha arrived and Ali set about relaxing her.
After another half hour when nobody else turned up because nobody else was invited, we decide to not exactly come clean but get it out in the open.
“Looks like it’s just the four of us,”, I said.
“Yeah, we’ve managed to throw a party and no one came. Except you two,” she said, raising her glass to Ramesh and Anesha.” Oddly enough they didn’t seem uncomfortable at all. I had seen them having one or two conspiratorial chats, so maybe they had been discussing it.
“Anyway, that’s okay with me,” I said loudly, also raising my glass.
“Anybody want to dance?” Ali asked, and we all stood up. I wasn’t the world’s best but it was either that or be the wallflower. We danced as a group until a slow one came on, when Ramesh and Anesha looked at each other and melted into each others arms. Ali and I duly followed suit.
“Shit,” she hissed in my ear. “They’re a fucking couple.”
“Not necessarily,” I replied, and as soon as normal dancing was resumed I maneouvred Anesha into a corner and Ali made a move on Ramesh. Ali turned the dimmer switch down and when the next slow one arrived the pairings were what we wanted. I kissed Anesha’s neck in a way designed to seem friendly with just a touch of seduction. She didn’t seem to mind.
Ali was soon in a determined clinch with Ramesh; she’s like that, a fast worker for a girl. I changed the settings on the iPod so it played a lot of smooch stuff and get back to work on Anesha’s erogenous zones.
Ali and Ramesh quietly disappeared into her bedroom and I sat on the sofa with Anesha. I kissed her and my hand automatically dived under her top to feel those extravagant tits.
“You ever been with a black girl?” she asked with a cheeky grin.
“Yes,” I said. “Why?”
“Just wondered if you can handle it,” she explained. She was from Barbados and had probably grown up being slammed by the sort of macho guys who thought their job was to shake a girl’s teeth loose. I had learned from my other Caribbean queens that they also appreciated, but didn’t often get, long, dirty foreplay, and I intended this to be a very long and very dirty encounter.
I led Anesha to my bedroom, opposite Ali’s, from which came the sounds of animated ecstasy. Ali was a noisy lover who considered a showbiz element an important part of it. She was a devotee of the swinging-from-the-chandeliers school of sex.
Anesha and I undressed quickly and lay together on the bed. She had left her panties for me to remove, so I slid down her body and put my nose against her clitoris and rubbed it. I could smell her juice through the shiny silver fabric, so I quickly pulled them down and got my tongue into her pussy.
She began to sing softly, “My neck, my back,” a controversial r’n’b song that I had come across online. The next line after “My neck, my back” was “Lick my pussy and my crack” but Anesha mumbled it.
“I intend to,” I said.
“What?”
“Lick your pussy and your crack.”
“Oh, you know it.”
“I love it,” I said, as she rubbed her delicious cunt in my face. I licked her like an ice cream and I sucked her lips like strands of spaghetti. She lifted her legs as high as she could so that her back curved and her arsehole was presented to me. I licked that with gusto and she groaned.
“Turn over,” I said.
“On my knees?”
“Yes.”
She got down on all fours and I licked her bottom, her backside, her arse, her ass, her crack. My neck, my back, lick my pussy and my crack.
“Fuck,” she said. “You really know what you’re doing with that, don’t you?” That was just about the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.
Anesha had three little, yelping orgasms before she went down on me. She sucked me long and slow, just how I like it. It’s not an Olympic event, it’s about loving what you’re doing and in my case loving what is being done to me.
“You going to fuck my ass?” Anesha asked in a slightly trembling voice.
“You want me to?” I returned.
“I want you to fuck my pussy doggy-style,” she said.
I gave her anus a fond farewell lick and climbed aboard.
“Uh uh,” she said. “Not without a condom.”
I reached into the bedside cabinet and found one.
“I’ll do it,” Anesha said sweetly, tearing it open and rolling it onto my impatient erection. She smoothed it lovingly and bobbed her head for a quick such before getting back on her knees.
I rammed my cock into her. She had had the exquisite starter which was my speciality and now I could tell she wanted a hearty main course. She yelped again as I banged her hard and urged me to go faster. I gave her every ounce of my energy and strength and she took it all gratefully.
Eventually Anesha wailed long and loudly as she came to the treasured orgasm. My load gushed into the latex and I snka down onto her back. We lay together and kissed gently.
“Go down on me again now,” she said gently. In a second my tongue was back in her vagina and I knew immediately why she had asked me to do it. Her juice had changed. It was now sweeter, like nothing I have ever known. She was mellow and succulent.
“God,” I said. “You are delicious.”
“It’s different when I’ve come,” she said. “Doesn’t that happen with all girls?”
“No,” I said. “This is the first time I’ve known a different flavor in the same session. You’re a wonderful woman, Anesha.”
“I’m just a Bajan girl making her way in the world,” she said, stroking my head.
