Page 120 of Call Me Mrs. Taylor

Then he follows me under.

His hips jerk, his whole body shaking as he slams into me as deep as he can go, holding me in place as he empties himself inside me.

Well, then.

For a few moments, he doesn’t move. I don’t move. He’s looming over me, still buried in me, still holding onto me like he doesn’t wanna let me go.

But he does.

He pulls himself out. Pulls the toy out. The bed shifts as he stands, leaving me empty, alone, and wrecked.

I’m still trembling. Still gasping for breath. He stands over me, quiet. When I finally muster the courage to look up at him, I see something I’ve never seen on his face before.

Disgust.

32

Ace

The streets around my complex are packed with rowdy ass kids, their laughter echoing through the neighborhood as they run from house to house, pillowcases and plastic pumpkins swinging at their sides.

It was kinda iffy last year and the year before. My bell only rang maybe three times all night. But they’re out this year, begging, as is customary. I’m lowkey happy to see it.

I drop a handful of fun-sized Snickers bars—only the good shit at the Taylor crib—into a little princess’s bag, then do the same for the third Black Panther I’ve seen tonight. They thank me and run off to my neighbor as I retreat back inside, out of the crisp chill.

Atlanta fall is upon us. If it hasn’t already, it always shows up on Halloween. Never later.

I sit on my couch in front of the TV, hitting play onA Nightmare on Elm Street. It’s my Halloween tradition, but it ain’t hitting like it used to.

My mind is wandering, like it’s done all night. A couple of those kids were small, like toddler small, and it got me to thinking about Elijah. He would have been old enough to walk around in a costume this year. If his little legs got tired, I imagine carrying him on my shoulders from house to house. Being a father.

The thought digs in deep, reopening a wound I thought had closed two years ago. I think about Arnelle and I wonder if she sees the same pictures in her mind. If she ever obsesses over what could have been. The small, quiet moments. The normalcy. Just…life.

I run a hand over my head, reaching for my phone to check the group chat. Them niggas been in there cutting up all night. Bron and Titus posted memes. Jovan was complaining about some girl. And Dayton casually dropped a pic of him and Shara dressed up like Beetlejuice and Lydia like we weren’t supposed to clown the fuck out of them.

Ace

All I’ma say is I know you must love that girl with all your heart.

Jovan

lmao

Titus

Lanky nigga look like jack skellington

Dayton

Where you been, A? We thought you got snatched up by the ghost of pussy past

They had to go and mention her.

I shake my head, placing my phone face down next to me.

It’s been two weeks since I saw her. Well, since I broke into her place and fucked her out of my system.

Getting in was easy. I spotted a design flaw the first time I was there. It’s the engineer in me. Took the whole pane out with a utility knife.

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