Page 87 of The Man Handler

Tell him.

“Um, enjoy your holidays.”

He smiles. “You enjoy yours as well. Be safe over there.”

“Thanks, I will.” I look around the house one last time to make sure I have turned everything off, then set the alarm.

Garrett walks out with me. “I’ll be thinking about you.”

I offer him a smile as he opens the limo door. He closes it once I am in, then stands in my driveway and watches as we drive away before getting into his car. I take another deep breath, then slowly exhale. I hope I haven’t made a mistake, I think, laying my head back, rubbing my stomach.

Ho, you did what was in your heart. It was what you had to do.

Humph, I guess. As far as I’m concerned, all the ho had to do was make sure the nigga had a condom on. Now look at your ass. So much for bragging about never being pregnant.

Well, you’ve had a good run. Maybe this is a sign for you to stop chasing Mr. Goodbars, and think about giving Garrett a chance. Hell, he’s fine, the dick’s good, and he fucks like a stallion. And now he’s talking about swinging ’n shit. Ho, that gives you an open invitation to feast on an assortment of dicks, and still have a man of your own. It can’t get any better than that. And if shit works out between the two of you, cool. If it doesn’t, then you can always take your ass back out on the ho-stroll.

I shake my head, staring out of the window, lost in thought all the way to the airport.

“We are now ready to board Lufthansa flight 403 from Newark to Frankfurt,” the attendant says over the intercom. “Passengers flying business and first class can now board.” I gather my things, and move towards the line. When I finally get to my seat, I buckle up, then lean my head back and sigh, closing my eyes.

When the flight reaches flying altitude, I peer out into the clouds. Allow myself to get lost in the peacefulness of their fluffy whiteness. The sound of a suction machine cuts into the quietness, and instinctively, I clutch my stomach. I remember hearing somewhere that it’s better to regret having done something, than to regret not having done it at all, or something like that. I think back on that afternoon in Dr. Krishna’s office, pulling in my bottom lip. I fight back tears. Then I do something I haven’t done in years, I find myself wondering about my life beyond a stiff dick. I decide to use this getaway to reflect, consider making some changes in my life. That’s not to say I’m dismissing the idea of fucking some exotic-looking, authentic African dick while I’m over in Egypt.

Ho, the only thing you’re gonna end up with is some exotic shit your ass can’t get rid of, so if I were you I’d think about keeping your legs shut. Get your mind right, and put fucking to the side for a minute. You have more pressing shit to tend to.

I sigh, “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

“Excuse me, did you say something?” a very handsome, very sexy, distinguished-looking Italian man asks, looking over at me.

“Oh, no,” I say, meeting his gaze. Damn this man is sexy. “I was thinking out loud.”

He smiles, knowingly, then goes back to his Sudoku puzzle.

Garrett’s voice plays in my head. You can’t stop me from loving you…Have you ever thought that maybe you might have an addiction? But know that when you’re ready, there’s a good man willing and ready to love you.

Damn you, Garrett! I shift in my seat, then out of nowhere, I get this crazy idea, wondering what a woman would say to her pussy if she had to write it a letter. The thought makes me laugh. I reach for my bag underneath the seat in front of me. I pull out a notepad and pen, then write:

Dear Pussy,

Some may say that over the years I have misused you, and even abused you. That I have taken you for granted, that I have been disrespectful to you. But the truth is I love you, dear pussy. I love all things you represent: womanhood, femininity, strength, the valley that brings life into the world. I love the way you feel, the way you purr when you are being stroked just right, the way you roar in delight when you’re being fucked. I love the sweet, musky scent you emit when you become overly excited from gripping and slurping in a thick dick. I love the way your walls shiver, the way your lips swell, the way your clit tingles when you are on the brink of an orgasm. I love the way your juices slosh and splash along the sides of a dick as it’s being thrust in and out of you, deeply and purposefully. The way you greedily milk the dick, causing a man to scream out in ecstasy. Oh, yes, my beautiful pussy, there’s nothing more magnificent than you. You have the power to make a man’s eyes roll up in the back of his head, make his toes curl, have him forget his name. It is you who can bring a man to his knees, have him losing his mind over you. It is you they beg for, and crave for.

Some may say I hate you for the number of men I have allowed to enjoy you, even when they were not deserving of your goodness. But you see, my precious pussy, I heard your whispers in the still of the night, felt your aching, for a beautiful black dick. I listened to your sweet pleas for pleasure. And I took heed, not caring if he was worthy of you or not. His worth wasn’t, and isn’t, important to me. What hangs between his legs is. And his ability to feed your hunger, to quench your thirst. For a good dick and a good fucking is all I care about. And with each man I have invited inside of you, to be engulfed by your warmth and wetness, I have relished your moans of satisfaction.

Why would I forsake you? You have been good to me. You, my precious pussy, are the keeper of joy and pleasure and pain; the receiver of a man’s spirit. And when you open your floodgates, all things good and bad flow from the center of you in abundance, allowing you to cleanse.

Carelessly, I have allowed one man to plant his spirit in you, and now his seed has taken root, and will bring forth a child, my child. One I am ambivalent about having. But I couldn’t go through with that abortion. I just couldn’t

. So, I don’t know what this will mean for me, or for you. I can’t promise you that I won’t continue to fuck while I am pregnant, but I will promise, no, no…I’ll try, not to fuck with wild abandon for a while. I can’t make any guarantees. ’Cause I love to fuck. And I love how fucking makes you feel. You are very special to me. I appreciate you. I adore you. We are connected. I am my pussy. And my pussy is me.

Love always,

Bianca

I reread it, then chuckled to myself, shaking my head. What a hot damn mess, I think, neatly folding it then slipping it inside my purse. I’m not only a dick-loving ho, but now I’m a pregnant one. Isn’t that some shit?

I purse my lips, thinking about this pregnancy. There’s nothing you can do about it now. Everything happens for a reason. Be thankful that out of all the dicks you’ve fucked you didn’t end up with something deadly. Be thankful it was Garrett who bust up in you raw, and got you pregnant. He’ll be a good father.

I take a deep breath, deciding to tell Garrett that I am carrying his child the minute I return from my trip; that I am open to exploring the swingers’ scene with him; that I want to have a threesome with him and Wade. I will tell him that I will give him a chance, but the minute he starts smothering me, or stressing me, or getting on my damn nerves, all bets are off.

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