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“Just one more of the two of you together,” Temple’s mom said. “Don’t you two look like royalty? My goodness!”
Temple had chosen our colors—gold and white—and we really did look good, so I smiled, wrapping an arm around my gorgeous girl’s waist for picture after picture. Temple’s mom and dad had always been nice to me, and I legit owed much of my happiness to her father, whose career had brought Temple to me. Plus, she was their only child; they had a right to go a little overboard.
This was fun, especially since my no-nonsense, extremely serious parents thought the high school prom ritual was trivial in the grand scheme of things when it came to me, their only child. My mother had actually said, “Do you not realize who you are? This is pure foolishness.”
Yeah, they definitely didn’t get it, at all, and only agreed to pay for my tux and the limo because it aligned with my “status.”
Whatever that was supposed to mean.
They were always saying shit like that, spinning tales I half-listened to and wholeheartedly disbelieved about a lineage of greatness that bypassed them but was passed on to me.
Temple and I arrived at the hotel where the prom was being held a little late by design; she wanted to make an entrance, and the gold dress that fit her like a glove deserved all the attention it could get. As we made our presence known, my mind kept drifting to what Temple was determined would occur after the prom in a room upstairs that I’d already reserved for us. I loved her, had wanted to be with her in that way since my eyes had first been blessed with her visage, but sex was a big deal, especially sex between two virgins. Plus, there were the stories my parents had told me about sex being more than physical but also deeply spiritual. All of that had made me hesitant to initiate anything with Temple in the seven months we’d been boyfriend and girlfriend. But she wasn’t taking no for an answer.
Not tonight.
I knew her wishes because she’d plainly verbalized them more than once, but as we stepped onto the crowded dance floor and swayed to new school and old school music, I could feel it in her touch, sense her need and desire in the way she melded her body with mine, hear it in the sighs she released, and I for damn sure wanted her, too.
Brian McKnight’s “Love of My Life,” our song, almost sent me over the edge, especially with the way she raised up on her toes in her modest heels and whispered the words of the song into my ear as we danced. Twenty minutes of us dancing and chatting with a few friends passed before she finally grabbed my hand, squeezed it, and shifted her eyes to the ceiling of the ballroom, my cue that it was time to leave, that she was ready.
But shit…was I?
I really wasn’t sure if I’d ever be ready. Still, I ushered her out of the ballroom and onto the elevator, my heart pounding in my chest, my mind racing with thoughts of what was about to happen and memories of every kiss and touch we’d already shared. Still gripping her soft hand, I pressed the button for the sixth floor.
I’d splurged on a suite, using all of the money I’d earned and saved from working for my dad over the summer at his dental practice. As we approached the suite’s door, I almost felt like I needed to carry her inside, because what was about to happen was just that special, akin to the rituals that followed a sacred ceremony. Instead, I unlocked the door and with her hand in mine, walked inside.
As we both stood and took in the space from the cream-colored walls to the pillows arranged on the king-sized bed, I could feel the nervous energy emitting from her, energy that matched mine. Yet, underneath that nervousness lay an assurance, a sudden sense of calm, as if at my very core, I knew this was right. In my soul, I knew this had been our destiny all along, to give ourselves to one another on this night, in this room. To be each other’s firsts.
I sensed her eyes on me and turned to see tears in them. Not even that made me feel unsure. So rather than ask her if she’d changed her mind, I simply said, “I feel it, too.”
What I felt in a way so overwhelming that it made me want to cry, was love, love so deep and real that I was sure it could, and probably would, kill me not to touch her.
“I love you,” she professed, and before I could requite the sentiment, her soft lips were on mine, her hands clutching the sides of my face. And then I was lost in the kiss, in her, in us. Wrapping my arms around her soft body, I pulled her into me, my heart threatening to beat itself out of existence, my body transmitting my need for her in ways that were foreign to me. No lie, the shit was scaring my big, tall ass.
She moaned into my mouth, grasping the lapels of my tuxedo jacket and pulling me toward the bed. I knew that without opening my eyes. Her mouth left mine once we made it to the bed, and she pushed me a little, leaving me just outside the boundaries of her personal space. We both fought to regulate our breathing as we stood, staring at each other. And then she turned her back to me and said, “Unzip me, Sam.”
I did, with trembling fingers and an anxious body, my eyes following the path of the zipper as it slowly revealed the flawless skin of her back. Once it was unzipped, I reached up and lowered the straps from her shoulders, leaning in to kiss the side of her neck. We’d kissed before, I’d tasted the skin of her neck before, we’d pleased each other with our hands before, so I was not completely unfamiliar with Temple’s body, but when she turned to face me, lowering the dress until it finally glided to the patterned maroon carpet beneath our feet, revealing a black bra and panties that she hastily shed, I couldn’t speak or blink or breathe. Temple was…art.
Her plump breasts and rounded hips gave me a new and damn near torturously carnal awareness of the fact that this was a woman standing before me.
I was on her in seconds, kissing and touching her as she hurriedly helped me out of my clothes. On the bed, I spread my body over hers. We kissed and touched, she helped me roll the condom down over me, and with tightly closed eyes, I entered her. Bursts of light and brilliant colors exploded behind my closed eyelids. Vivid images played like a movie as I sank deeper and deeper into her, her fingernails digging deeper and deeper into my skin, her moans filling my ears as my private film continued to roll—me standing before a crowd of brown faces being honored, venerated, worshipped.
Worshipped?
My eyes popped open, and that action plus the strained expression on Temple’s face made everything stop—the movie, the images, the movement of my hips, my heart—everything.
“I’m hurting you,” I said, realizing I’d been lost in the visions and had not been sensitive to her needs and feelings.
“Yes,” she whined, “but keep going. Please, keep going.”
“You sure?”
She lifted from the bed a little to kiss me and even though my eyes remained open, the movie resumed as I eased out and back into her. She felt so good, so…right.
“Ohhhhhh, shit!” I moaned.
The images, the feeling of being inside her, her whimpers, the electricity transmitting between us, it was a lot. It was actually too much, and then the words, the voices of my parents and Porter, my godfather, began to pelt my consciousness like balls of hail assaulting the earth during a storm. Lessons, warnings, admonishments, and by the time Temple and I had screamed our way to climax, I knew this had been a mistake. I knew that as right as it was, it was also wrong. I also knew neither of our lives would ever be the same after this night.
4
