Page 6 of Ms. V's Hot Girl Summer

But today I didn’t have it. All poise deserted me while I waited in my car and pulled up to the sidewalk by the basketball court entrance. Orlando walked out with the twins, and the three of them were shirtless. It was getting much warmer, so it made sense. They’d been playing for a good hour and some. But I wasn’t ready for Orlando.

First, tattoos. Tattoos everywhere. They were well hidden. But they were there. One on his chest, another on his upper left arm, and one on his inner upper right arm. Another one on his right side. It was still too far to admire their intricacies, but they were sexy, and I didn’t want to know that.

The other thing I wasn’t used to was the definition. Yes, Orlando was lean. Yes, Orlando was cut. Yes, Orlando was strong. Yes, Orlando. And then he clapped Brian’s shoulder and from where I sat in the car, I could see his plump lips moving. “I’m proud of you.”

Oops. Fifth orgasm…here we come.

Scrambling out of my car took me seconds. Maybe standing, I wouldn’t feel all the sensations between my legs and in my chest. And why my chest? What was happening? This was a kid; he just graduated from college. He was twenty-five years old and carefree. He had no responsibilities in life. He had a cute little animation job or whatever and was probably successful, but still, a kid.

Good, this was working. Things calmed down south, and when Orlando flashed that cute smile of his, I was ready for it.

“Good afternoon, Ms. Velasquez; you doing fine?”

Not as fine as you.

He is twenty-five!!

“I’m alright, how’re you, son? Good to see you today.”

Orlando grimaced, the expression disappearing like a single drop in a pool of water. Trying to hide it, he played with the diamond stud with his index and thumb, rolling the jewelry over and over, and a twinge of regret hit me in my stomach.

“Come on, Ms. V. I’ve asked you not to call me son, please. You’re notthatold.”

Touché, Orlando.

“You’re right. I’m not that old; it’s you that is a little younger and untried. But you’re correct; I should respect your wishes. It’s good to see you, hope you have a wonderful weekend. Alright?”

“Oh, he will, he going to that new club that recently opened closer to Dad’s apartment? Everybody talking about it.”

“People still go to clubs?” I asked. I was sure I’d read an article lately about how clubs were closing left and right because the new generation didn’t like going out to dance anymore. Shame on them—if I was young…well, I did all the things when I was young after I divorced, but still. Sometimes it felt like I was missing some shenanigans, but that was just young Trinidad trying to pop out from where I buried her when I decided to grow the fuck up and fix my romantic life.

“I mean it’s not a club…” Orlando flashed an annoyed glance at Brandon, and for a second, they looked more like older and younger brothers than mentor and mentee.

Oh God, and I tried to come on a dildo thinking of this man-child. Help.

“It’s a bar. A Caribbean bar, they hosting a fete.”

Now fetes I knew, but respectable women like me should not be going out to wuk on no man or woman. So, I didn’t partake in them anymore. But damn, did my waistline and hips try to remind me of how much I loved going out whenever one of my favorite soca songs would come up on my random playlists.

“Oh, I remember my younger days, when I used to—”

“Ma, Orlando ain’t care about you being mad loose when you were younger. Come on now.”

“Who said I was loose? Más respeto!” I gave him The Stare.

Brian must have a death wish right now ’cause he didn’t just expose my business in front of this man-child.

Said man-child’s eyes shined with an interest I had noticed sometimes in the past and had gotten real good at ignoring.

“You’re right, Ma, my apologies—that was out of bounds. We believe in women’s empowerment and the right to be as sexual or not sexual as they like to be, always respecting their boundaries with consent.”

My mouth dropped open, and Orlando’s, Brian’s, and Brandon’s faces transformed into pure panic.

“Awwww, that was lovely, mi cielo. You really have been listening to my advice, haven’t you?” The light in my chest shined so bright it blinded the entire block.

“Well yeah, but this particular thing, not you, but Orlando taught us that. He tells us a lot about how to be a cis, heterosexual, responsible man,” Brian said with that awkward, embarrassed-but-proud posture boys did when secretly pleased with what their parents had to say.

“Yeah, he’s also teaching us how to talk to you and Dad and, y’know, our elders.”

---