"I put a spell on you

Because you're mine

You're mine
Mine
I love you
I love you
I love you
I love you
I love you
I love you anyhow
And I don't care
If you don't want me
I'm yours right now
I'm yours right now"

Alice Smith re-make—"I Put a Spell on You"

N'Jobu parked his car across the street from Xavier's small apartment complex. He saw Califia's bike sitting in a carport in front of the units. He waited a few minutes to get his bearings and called her number again through his car. She picked up after the fourth ring.

"Hey," she said, her voice airy and light.

"You made it to your destination."

"Yeah. I told you I could handle a little rain."

"True."

"I appreciate your concern though. Are you still driving home?"

"No. Actually, I am right outside."

"Outside?"

He heard her moving around inside the apartment through the phone and then the front door opened. She walked out onto the top of the stairs and looked towards the street. N'Jobu stepped out of his car and walked towards the apartment building. He watched Califia ease her way down the stairs.

He met her at the bottom step and she had a slight grin on her face.

"You were able to catch up."

"Something like that."

His eyes glanced up at the open door of the apartment.

"Why are you here?"

Her eyes went downcast as she fidgeted the toes of her bare feet on the step.

"Xavier went to San Diego for the weekend with his friends. I have some relatives who are staying over at my grandmother's and I really don't want to be around them the next two days, so I'm crashing here so I can study in peace."

Her eyes searched his and he tried to act as if it didn't bother him, but it did.

"Are you really broken up, or is this a trial separation?"

"We are not together. He knows I'm here. After Sunday, I'm leaving the key and I'll be at my grandmother's."

He didn't like her being there. It didn't matter if Xavier was gone. She was still here, in his space. Their energy together would still be surrounding her. She would be sleeping in his bed.

He didn't have the right to be upset that she was here, but he was feeling a particular way. A new sensation actually. He was feeling jealous. Something he had never been before. It was a cold prickly sensation, this idea of possibly losing her to someone else, someone unworthy. In his heart, he felt like she was his, and even the specter of Xavier hovering in her consciousness was making him queasy inside. It also made him feel weak, something he could never be.

"I want to go out with you."

He wanted to kick himself, that was not the smoothest line to give her as his words came out in a needy rush. But she gave him a beatific smile and his heart snapped back into a place of ease.

"When?" she asked.

Califia's eyes crinkled with such a look of bliss that N'Jobu wanted to hug her. His conversation with Bakari about her life swirled inside his head. Her trying to hold a world together for her father, an estranged mother thousands of miles away, and her sense of responsibility towards others must be overwhelming. Where did she go to find comfort for herself? Snatch a little happiness for herself?

He felt his eyes soften as he took in her face. He sauntered closer to her, the step she was perched on made them stand eye to eye. Xavier was not here. She wanted to study alone and away from distractions. She deserved this peace, not his secret irrational jealousy.

"You have a lot going on and I can be flexible for you. Tell me when and—"

"Next Saturday, after my performance. Show starts at seven and ends around nine. Come see me dance and we can go eat afterward. I know a spot that stays open late. If that's okay with you."

"That is excellent with me….oh, wait. I apologize, I made plans for next Saturday. How about Sunday?"

"That will work. Same deal. Dinner after the show."

"Okay, next Sunday."

She blinked and closed her eyes, touching her eyelashes.

"I just got hit with a raindrop," she said, rubbing her eye.

More heavy sprinkling fell around them, and N'Jobu wiped her eye for her then held her face in his hand.

"You are something else, Califia," he said.

Her head tilted to the side a bit and she touched his hand with her own.

"So are you."

He went for it, pressing his lips to hers, closing his eyes and only wanting her in his arms. The warmth of their kiss bloomed into a sweet tangling of full lips, raindrops, teasing tongues, gentle sighs of contentment, and a yearning for more. His arms swept down to surround her waist as her hands curled around his neck.

Sweet turned into savory, and savory became sensual as N'Jobu released her lips and dipped the tip of his tongue into the sensitive curve of Califia's ear. He liked how she responded by arching her neck and soon his tongue was tracing the skin there and then nipping at it with teasing bites. More water fell from the sky but they didn't care about it. Califia sucked in a breath between her teeth when he began nibbling on her neck. He was going to leave a mark on purpose this time, claiming her with his love bites.

She pulled his face away from her neck just so she could look into his eyes again. What he saw reflected back to his own eyes were all the things he was feeling in that moment; the excitement of being with someone new, someone who turned on his mind as much as his body.

"You better go inside. I'll call you," he said. She nodded but kissed him again, this time holding his face with her hands, her tongue seeking out his. His hands reached down and squeezed her ass. He heard and felt her gasp inside his mouth and he took that opportunity to push her into him. Her body writhed against his and that was his signal to stop.

"Go in before you get us in trouble out here, girl."

She pouted and nipped at his lips with her teeth, causing him to groan a tiny bit. She started sucking on his bottom lip and that's when he slapped her ass. She released his lip and her head dropped onto his shoulder and he felt her body shudder. They were both damp from the slight precipitation.

"Slap my ass again, baby," her throaty voice made him glance around the apartment complex and the street. No one was around, and it was past midnight. It was just them and the light rain. With her pressed into him, he used his right hand to slap both her ass cheeks. Her mouth was jammed into his shoulder suppressing an intense squeal. He rubbed both ass cheeks with wide gentle circles. Her thin leggings were soaked and he allowed his hand to squeeze the cleft of her right ass cheek. He whispered in her ear.

"You have to let me know when to stop if it gets to be too much, use a word to let me know."

"Just spank me, I'll let you know."

"No, you have to give me a safe word. I'm serious. Any word."

Both his hands traced her plump behind, rubbing, squeezing, and lifting up the cheeks.

"Red."

Red was easy. Basic.

Califia poked out her behind a bit, still leaning her head into his shoulder. He took his right hand and rubbed her left cheek again. He could feel her tensing up, waiting for the sharp pain to come. He gave it to her, spanking each cheek rhythmically, allowing space between each hard slap to rub, knead, and soothe her. She bit into his jacket, using all the power she could muster to keep from crying out to the entire neighborhood.

They created a satisfying pattern of spanking and nurturing, and he couldn't believe she had him outside in the middle of the night, on her ex-boyfriend's apartment steps letting him do this to her for nearly twenty minutes. He kept the spanking at a beginner's level for her with an occasional shock of intense contact. When that happened, she would gasp into his ear and say "Bay-beeee," with such carnal longing that it made his knees shake.

"You like this?" he asked, the unsated hunger in his voice hard to disguise.

"Yes!"

"Tell me you like it," he hissed into her ear.

"I like it…I like it…bay-beeee…"

"Tell me all this ass is mine…say it!"

"It's all yours, it's all yours…"

"You like having this fat ass spanked, huh?'

"Yes! Don't stop…huhnnnn…don't stop!"

He checked in with her after every third slap, and at one point he tilted her head back to look at her face. Her eyes were on the cusp of going unfocused. He decided to stop. It was enough for her even without her saying "red". He hugged Califia tight, holding up all her weight for her, allowing her to rest and regain her own physical bearings again.

"How are you feeling now?"

"Good. I feel like I'm drunk to be honest."

The rain had become a light sprinkle once more. She threw her arms around his neck, pressing her wet face against his once more.

"I feel, …I feel hot all over…but the rain is cooling me at the same time. It feels really good. Next time, I want you to go harder."

"You're killing me," he whispered in her ear.

She kissed him again, licking his lips, sucking the tip of his tongue, and giving light scratches to the back of his neck with her fingernails. They weren't fancy French tipped wonders like Serah's, but the way she had him purring was good enough in her book.

"Can you walk up the steps by yourself?"

"Yeah, I can."

He pulled away from her.

"Go," he said, pushing her back up the steps.

She held onto the railing and made exaggerated lunges up the steps, flexing her butt just to tease him.

"Goodnight, N'Jobu," she said at the top of the stairs.

"Goodnight, Califia."

She closed the door. Once she was gone, N'Jobu tumbled back away from the steps.

"Whoo, shit," he mumbled, staring back up at the apartment. He started laughing as he walked across the street, taken by surprise at what just transpired.

When he got inside his car it was the first time he noticed how tight his erection was in his pants. He had been so focused on Califia and the pleasure she received just listening to her being spanked that he had lost track of his own physical sensations, even the rainwater that drenched his clothes and face. His cell phone vibrated and he picked it up. Califia had sent him something. He swiped his phone and his eyes almost fell out of their sockets. She had texted him a picture of herself bent at the waist, her leggings and panties pulled down to her knees with her butt thrust out. There were deep red marks on both round cheeks. He tapped the photo to make it bigger just to make sure, and yes, he could see it, the delicate curve of her vulva.

Look what you did, lol!

He read the text again and then stared at the picture.

"Damn, baby," he said. He couldn't wait to get back home. He needed release right away. Undoing the buttons on his pants and zipping down his fly, he glanced around his car. No one could see him. He reached into his boxers and pulled out a brick hard dick. This girl let him spank her in the rain and sent him proof of his markings on her ass. He made the picture even bigger just to try and catch a better glimpse of her pussy.

He flicked his thumb over the head of his cock and imagined lining himself up against her opening. He would have one hand on her neck pushing her down, and the other gripping his dick and dragging it up and down on her entrance. Her pussy looked fat and inviting, and he wondered if she realized that her cell camera had taken more than just her reddened backside.

She probably pulled down her stuff and took a quick snap, not even noticing her juicy slit was showing. He bet that she probably had a mean arch, and shit, what would it be like to sink into her while she held her cheeks open with her own hands, letting him pound that ass to shreds?

She told him she wanted him to spank her harder next time, and that's all it took for him to cum in his car, shooting thick ribbons of his seed all over his pants and leather seat.

"Ah dammit!" he moaned, jerking out the last spillage of cum. He reached behind his seat and rummaged inside his gym bag, pulling out a hand towel. He wiped himself and the seat and balled up the towel, stuffing it back inside the gym bag. He started laughing again and looked up towards the apartment. She was probably up there now, legs open and rubbing tight circles on herself. What he wouldn't give to watch her writhing on a bed and calling out his name. Only his name.

He couldn't wait to see her again.

###

All the training, clean eating, late night rehearsals, foot aches, backaches, and no dick came down to this night.

Califia sat on the floor of the theater dressing room stretching out her legs. Other dancers milled around, stretching, checking the tape on their ankles, flexing arms and shoulders, fixing hair and make-up too.

Califia had Soliel braid her hair tight with cowrie shells and gold beads. She had a buttload of costume changes and one of the numbers required her to wear an exaggerated paper mache mask that smelled like musty armpits.

Standing up, Califia flexed her ankles and then rolled her neck and shoulders. The nervous energy was eating her up like it always did before a performance. She ran choreography through her head, especially the final piece she was in. Rolita was chilling in the green room where she would stay and watch the show on a monitor until it was time for her to join Califia onstage where she would sing.

Califia wasn't in the first number and this irritated her because the director changed the order of performances the week before. She always preferred to come out of the box like a thoroughbred in the first dance, releasing pent-up nerves so that she could ease into her natural performance groove. Instead, she would be waiting on deck going stir crazy hanging onto her dance edge.

Most of her friends would catch the show over the first weekend. She made sure to have a ticket ready for N'Jobu at the box office for Sunday's performance.

The stage manager pulled all the dancers together to give last minute info, and then their dance teacher had them say a group prayer. Califia then went to sit with Rolita in the green room.

"How are you?" Rolita asked.

"You know how it is."

"Reese is already here. They'll pull him in after intermission. Layla and Bonnie will be here by eight."

"Cutting it close."

"If they're late, Reese and I can do it alone."

"But it sounds so good when they sing back-up for you."

"I know."

"Don't forget to stay low when I do that last turn, I almost kicked you in the head at dress rehearsal."

"If you kick me, I'll pretend it was part of the choreography."

They both watched the opening number, a slick throwback of 1950's swing dancing in the middle of an old-fashioned civil rights march performed to an old Kendrick Lamar track. The irony of the song was that nothing had really changed even though Lamar's earnest chorus of "It's gonna be alright" boomed throughout the theater. Califia opted not to participate in that number because it involved some dancers playing cops and going after other dancers with batons. There were some tricky onstage costume changes that made the civil rights dancers become modern citizens but the cops stayed the same.

Once Califia saw the cue that it was time for her to be in the wings on deck, she left Rolita to join the next number. She did a short meditation to focus her mind and align her thoughts with her body and the spirit of the entire program. She checked one last time for the security of the straight black wig she had pinned tight to her head. She had another female dancer check the back of the black skirt she wore. It came down to her knees. Her black leotard was brand new, ultra-thin and itchy. She couldn't wait to change out of it.

"Girl, your make-up is on point. Who did your eyes?"

Califia looked over at Patrice, one of the best dancers in their class who was looking all in Califia's face. Califia loved performing with Patrice because that girl made everyone work harder to stay on her level. If Califia considered herself the equivalent of Venus Williams in their group, then Patrice was the Serena Williams hands down.

They both came into the program as eager freshmen trying to gain top dog spots. Both were competitive and both could be petty to one another when they were younger. But there came a point where they both had to concede that each of them had particular skillsets that worked in their favor. Patrice had the better technical skills because Califia came to dance later in her teens. But Califia had personality and passion. Together they were fire.

Califia batted her lashes at Patrice.

"I did it myself."

"Bitch don't lie, Katy did that."

Katy was busy running up and down the line of dancers checking her work.

"Nope Patrice, Califia actually did it herself this time," tossed Katy over her shoulder.

Califia stuck her tongue out at Patrice. Patrice stepped closer to her.

"You ready to do this?" asked Patrice.

Califia held out her pinky finger, and Patrice hooked hers with it, a good luck tradition they had developed over the years.

"Break a titty, hoe," Califia said, and Patrice fell out laughing.

###

The music went on first with a voice-over narration done by a drama student. The music was a salsa-tinged number with funk undertones. The drama student recited a poem by a poet Califia didn't know, but it worked in time to the music, and by the time the stage lights came on and Califia followed Patrice's lead front and center, she already knew that they had kicked the show up a notch.

There were seven dancers in this piece, all women, and all wearing the same long straight wig and black skirts. Califia wasn't sure what aesthetic the wig was bringing, but she had fun swinging around the stringy hair.

The stage lights were blinding, so Califia couldn't see the audience properly, but she knew it was a packed house because she could hear and feel the energy in the room. The music had everyone hyped, and when an audience was hyped, Califia and Patrice would always take their dancing to another level. And right at that moment, Patrice had gone supernova, dragging Califia with her. They swirled their skirts, flipped their fake Becky hair on their Black girl heads and tried their best to gas the other one up by yelling "Aye!" every time one of them rolled their hips with an extra booty dip that was not part of the original choreography.

Halfway through that performance, Califia was actually able to breathe easy, the thoroughbred in her was able to stretch out those legs and run the way she needed to. A man in the audience, probably a person of proud Latino ancestry called out "Más te vale bailar!" Califia hollered back, "Estoy cocinando, Papi Chulo!" and only those who knew Spanish laughed.

When Califia's first performance of the night was done, she knew the rest of the evening would be a breeze. The first hour she had the heavy load of being in several numbers almost back to back. By the intermission she had time to freshen up, change, and check in with Rolita. The backup singers arrived on time and all she had to do now was perform two more background dancer work and then wait for her solo at the end.

###

He didn't see her in the opening number.

N'Jobu sat with Bridgette on the far left of the McKenna theater with a full and eager audience. The restaurant date on the Wharf went well and he was surprised when Bridgette sprung the dance tickets on him. He considered blowing off the tickets and taking Bridgette for a nice drive out of the city, but she was excited about going, and truth be told, he did want to see the opening night to support Califia. He had sent her a text earlier in the day wishing her luck and was bummed when he missed a call from her right before he left for dinner with Bridgette.

Normally he would feel no hesitation about going to a place where he knew another woman he had fooled around with would be, but something in the back of his mind made him feel cautious. Califia would have no idea he was there, but he still had reservations. He kept hearing Bakari's warning in his head.

Bridgette looked amazing in a lavender wrap-around dress and she held his hand in her lap as they watched the first performance together. The dancing was upbeat despite the subject matter of police brutality. The program he held in his lap said the piece was called "Living While Black".

He clapped politely when it was over and then Bridgette curled her fingers into his, holding part of his arm against her shoulder. The lights went out and heavy salsa rhythms surrounded the audience. Some poetry was recited and when the lights came back up, a group of women stormed the stage, their dance moves aggressive and commanding the attention of everyone. N'Jobu felt in his gut that Califia had to be in this number, even though all the women had the same hair and skirts. He was able to narrow his guess to three women with clear Black body types, and then a grin spread on his face when one woman rolled her hips the way he knew Califia could, and when he heard her voice yell "Aye!" to another dancer who twirled around her, N'Jobu found himself rocking in his seat to the music.

Bridgette was into the performance too, snapping her fingers, her head bopping in time to the music.

"This makes you want to get up and move!" she told N'Jobu.

"That's got to be Califia," N'Jobu said.

"Califia?"

"She's a friend of Bakari. The dancer that Gabriela Amador was with at City Lights. That's her on the right."

"Oh, her. That's right. You know her?"

"Yes."

"You can definitely pick out the Black women up there, they are showing out right now," she said.

N'Jobu kept his eyes on Califia the rest of the night. He was finally able to see the totality of her dancing gifts, and she was a beast. During one futuristic number, her moves were so fast and tight that it took N'Jobu's breath away. He leaned forward in his seat trying to take in every step she made. Bridgette was singing along to the song.

"Yasss! 'Take it down, wanna see you, work it, oh my god, pose bitch!' This is a forever mood, N'Jobu!"

He had no idea what Bridgette meant by "forever mood", but she was enthralled with Califia cutting up on stage, so it must've meant something good.

"She is killing it!" Bridgette said.

N'Jobu could only nod and be mesmerized.

###

Rolita had changed into a traditional Yurok bark skirt decorated with seashells and dried juniper berries that hung on long strings. Ropes of shell necklaces hung across her neck and chest as she placed a small woven cap on top of her head. Rolita's back up singers, Bonnie and Layla wore simple white maxi dresses. Reese, the guitar player, was already placed on the stage waiting for his cue.

Califia wore a simple sleeveless leotard that was very close to her skin tone. She checked to make sure the shells and beads in her hair were secure and then she held hands with Rolita and the other two women.

Rolita took a deep breath and so did Califia. This was not their first time collaborating together, but it was the first time performing in a venue like the McKenna theater to an audience of that size and cultural make-up. Califia and Rolita tended to perform in their own communities. Rolita had concerns about wearing traditional clothing and the stereotypes of Native culture being seen as primitive to the white gaze. Califia assured her that they would be fine and that the best way to combat ignorance was to be truthful and start their performance being real as fuck and going all out. Califia originally wanted to perform naked, but the director and school nixed that idea. She offered to paint her body but the university still said no. She spent a pretty penny finding dance clothing that would make her look as close to nude as possible. The way her nipples were sticking out and the way the thong cut of her leotard revealed her entire ass, she might as well have been buck naked.

Patrice came up to Califia right before she stepped on stage.

"Stunt on them, sis," Patrice said hugging her.

"I will," Califia said. A special make-up filled with pyrite dust was sprinkled on Califia's skin to represent gold dust.

The stage manager swept in waving her hands at Rolita and Califia. Showtime.

Califia followed Rolita, and a stagehand gave mics to Rolita and her back up singers. Entering stage left, Rolita handed her mic to Bonnie and picked up a sage bundle that sat on the stage floor inside an abalone shell. She lit the sage and purified Califia and herself, blowing tendrils of smoke into Califia's face, then waving her hand to smudge herself also.

When she was done, she put the sage back into the abalone to burn out as she took back her mic.

"My name is Rolita Nose. I am a member of the Yurok tribe, the original people of this land that you settlers sit on."

Califia could here a few polite coughs and murmurs in the audience.

"We would like to dedicate this performance to our ancestors, my people who were here first and to my fellow Yurok who still survive and thrive on this land, our land. And to Califia's ancestors who were stolen and enslaved here, and to her people who today fight the good fight. We are still here, and our ancestors stand with us tonight."

Someone in the audience clapped and shouted "Yes!" as another person gave a loud "Shhhh!"

Rolita then said a Yurok prayer in her own language. Califia shook out her arms and gave Rolita another hug. They pressed their foreheads together and Reese began strumming chords on his electric guitar. Bonnie and Layla began to hum the opening riff as Califia took a step back behind the curtain to breathe.

Projected onscreen in the back of the stage was a giant outline of Americas with Africa inside of it. Califia waited for Rolita to sing the first line of "I Put a Spell on You", and when she heard it, she spun out onto the stage and gave it her all.

###

"Ooh, they are serious," Bridgette whispered to N'Jobu when Rolita called the audience settlers.

N'Jobu let Rolita's words sink in. Their intensity rattled something in him. When he saw Califia, he had to do a double take because he thought she was naked. Every curve and muscle stood out. Her body was incredible. She could be a Dora Milaje. He imagined being in Wakanda or traveling with his family and having her protect him. Having her be with him for life. He snapped to attention at that random thought.

Rolita held the mic up to her lips and the most unforgettable sounding voice caressed his ears, Before he could even indulge in the haunting vocals, Califia spun out and just seized the audience in her hands with her exquisite interpretation of the song.

N'Jobu dropped Bridgette's hand and sat forward in his seat, his breath caught in his throat. There was a delicate, almost fragile and yet assertive quality to the dancing. Califia incorporated ballet-like footwork with sweeping west African influenced leaps. It was like she was bringing them a blend of Europe and Africa, forcing them to witness a forced hybrid of movement. She matched the intensity of Rolita's singing, and what had always been a quirky old song became a searing indictment of history, culture, and a great demand that the audience remember what they saw and heard on this night.

Califia stopped in the center of the stage and looked directly out into the theater, her face filled with rage and curiously enough, a gentle look of unrequited love. She then lifted her right leg up into a straight 180 in the air and spun in an entire circle with just her toes and the audience gasped and clapped as she twisted herself and the music into manna for them to eat. As if she were telling them, Yes, you will fill your bellies with this and it will nourish you in ways that you didn't think you needed.

Rolita's voice was the sauce that made the performance even more special, the heartbreak and yearning and sense of betrayal. She moved to be near the front of the stage like she was really putting a spell over them with her vocals. Reaching out her fingers like she was casting a divination upon them, she sank down to her knees throwing up her hand and head just as Califia leaped into a Chinese split above her. Califia held one arm above her head as she leaped, her other hand cast downward, and in that split second, it appeared that the two women touched fingers and the crowd went ballistic, clapping as Califia completed a series of turns, tossing in a capoeira move and then walking like a golden Queen towards Rolita where the music ended as they touched hands again.

The lights went out and the entire McKenna theater leaped to their feet, N'Jobu being one of the first ones to jump up. The standing ovation going for a full minute before the lights came back on where they could all see Rolita and Califia holding hands and taking a bow. The ovation continued and it appeared to overwhelm Rolita and Califia as they both hugged and wiped tears from their eyes.

"Oh my God, oh, my God," Bridgette said, staring at him with tears streaming down her face. She reached up her hand and wiped tears from his eyes. N'Jobu smiled and wiped his eyes for himself.

"That was incredible," he said.

"Look at my hands, I'm shaking," Bridgette said.

The clapping died down as Rolita and Califia and their little entourage left the stage. Very quickly, the entire troupe of dancers from the show returned to the stage for a final bow with more rounds of applause and then it was over.

N'Jobu had to sit down for a moment to collect himself. Bridgette had her compact out, fixing her eye make-up and smiling at him.

"I'm so glad we came to see this. Gabriela did not lie. Do you think we can go see her?"

N'Jobu stared at Bridgette.

"Who? Califia?"

"Yes, her and the singer. I want to let them know how amazing they were. A sistah needs to hear it from another sistah sometimes," she laughed.

Bridgette held a hand to her chest. She was really feeling the moment. So was N'Jobu. Yes, he wanted to wait for Califia and tell her all the things Bridgette wanted to say, but he didn't want to do it with Bridgette there.

"They might take awhile coming out to leave, maybe you should just email the department or hit them up on social media."

"Oh, come on, don't you want to tell your friend in person? We're here. Let's go wait in the lobby."

Bridgette slung her purse over her shoulders and reached out for N'Jobu's hand.

"C'mon," she said.

He took her hand and they walked out of the theater and into the lobby.

###

Backstage Califia was flying high like an eagle. In all her four years in the dance department, this was by far her best performance night. Not only for her stamina in the number of pieces she danced in, but for that closing with Rolita. She co-choreographed the number with her teacher, and along the way, there were disagreements about what should stay and go, but she was so pleased with the final outcome and the crowd's response. She would look at recorded footage of it later to see if there were any things she needed to change, but the fact that she didn't kick Rolita with her leap was the best part.

She changed into an oversized dark blue tracksuit and her purple Chuck Taylors. Tossing a beanie on her head, she walked out into the lobby with Rolita.

"I'm hungry," she told Rolita.

"Tacos?"

"Tacos," she said slinging a retro fanny pack around her waist.

They both received congratulatory words from patrons as they squeezed through theater stragglers who were still milling around and talking about the show.

"Can we drink too?" Califia asked.

"I have church tomorrow," Rolita said.

Califia pretended to throw a fit.

"Califia!"

She and Rolita turned and saw N'Jobu waving at them from outside the theater doors. Califia grabbed Rolita's hand and ran towards him. She was about to hug him with overzealous enthusiasm. In her mind, she thought he had blown off his plans just to be with her, and then she saw Bridgette's arm linked in his and her momentum cut in half. If there was a record scratch moment to be had, this was it.

N'Jobu stepped forward and gave her the most reserved hug.

"Congratulations on that performance," he said.

He stepped to Rolita and gave her a hug too.

Bridgette's arm automatically returned to his when he was done greeting them.

"Hey, N'Jobu," Califia said, all the wind knocked out of her sails.

"This is Bridgette, she got us the tickets tonight as a surprise. She wanted to meet you."

Califia forced a smile on her face as she focused her eyes on Bridgette.

"So cool to meet you both. You were so great. It made both of us cry," she said holding out her hand to Califia.

Califia shook her hand, followed by Rolita. N'Jobu was scratching his face in a nervous gesture.

"I'm happy to have made you cry," she said, her eyes not leaving N'Jobu's.

"Rolita, you have such a gift in your voice. You are truly blessed," he said.

Rolita gave a cheesy grin as both Bridgette and N'Jobu spoke to her. Califia could only stare at N'Jobu and his woman friend, wondering who she herself was in this scenario. Who did she want to be? Andrea, or Serah? The twisted feeling in her gut made her try to play off the annoyed feeling she had. She wasn't angry. Not exactly. He had told her he had prior plans. He wasn't the one who bought their tickets. He was just doing his usual thing and his "friend" had tickets. He loved the show and loved her work in particular. That was fine. That was okay. She couldn't even concentrate on what anyone was saying, she just kept staring at N'Jobu's face. He was just a guy, relax.

But she couldn't relax. She wanted him to hug her and kiss her, take her hand in his and whisk her off somewhere special. Just the two of them.

But no.

He had come to the show with someone else and was leaving with someone else, perhaps going off to have dinner and drinks and great conversation. That was what she wanted to do on Sunday. Now she felt like their date tomorrow would be a second-rate copy-cat version of the one he was on now.

All the texting and talking they had done all week felt disingenuous to her now. He had read the Angela Davis book first and they spent that week talking about Angela's career, her other work, and why womanist theory mattered to Califia. And he had been so engaging over the phone. Their talks all week never ventured into the sexual realm, in fact, they didn't even speak about the picture she sent him.

God. How stupid could she be? N'Jobu probably had a slew of nudes and nasty texts on his phone already. How special could she be? And look at this big Goddess bitch right here. Bridgette. Looking like a whole thick ass snack in that dress. They would probably be smashing later, and she would ride that fat dick, and he would spank her until she was cumming…

N'Jobu was staring at her.

"Yeah?" Califia said, trying to remember what the hell anyone else had said while she had undergone a brain fart of jealous thoughts.

"You okay?" he said giving her a guarded look.

"Um, I'm tired. Yeah. Thanks for checking out the show. We gotta dip. Nice to meet you, Bridgette."

"It was great to meet you, ladies, too," Bridgette said. N'Jobu hugged Rolita again, and then he leaned in and hugged Califia, whispering in her ear, "I'll call you later."

Bridgette was holding N'Jobu's hand as they walked away in the opposite direction.

"That was awkward. I felt some tension there," Rolita said.

"Let's go eat."

"You don't want to talk about what just happened?"

"Nothing happened."

"Aren't you supposed to be wanting to hook up with him?"

Califia didn't say anything, just started walking towards the nearest BART station.

"I know you're not okay with him being with other women. You should tell him."

She was Andrea right now. This is what that shit felt like. When Serah came into that apartment months ago after N'Jobu had screwed the shit out of Andrea, this was how Andrea must've felt when he told her to leave so he could be with Serah next. Califia had sat on N'Jobu's loveseat and laughed at her. No, she needed to be a bad bitch like Serah.

So what if this nigga had hoes around the world? He wasn't in a committed relationship, didn't seem interested in a committed relationship, and he was honest about his shit. She shook her head. She really didn't want to deal with community dick. She didn't need drama created on her end. Maybe it would be better to see other dudes who weren't interested in rotating women around a schedule. Or maybe, …maybe she needed a break from men. She was graduating in June and a new chapter in her life would start. Maybe it was best to stay celibate and single and focus on only her needs.

Who was she kidding? What she needed was him spanking her again, that sweet hot pain spreading from her ass to her back, from her thighs to her nipples and her face. She could just shiver with excitement thinking about last week and his hands on her. He seemed shocked at how fast she had taken to being spanked, but what he didn't know was that she craved it. A previous boyfriend before Xavier used to spank her and she loved it. She just didn't like the guy well enough to keep him for long. She tried to get Xavier into it because most guys enjoyed the occasional ass slapping in the middle of coitus, but to get that consistent flow? Priceless. Xavier was not the guy for the job though, he couldn't get with it.

What amped her the most about it now was how fast she took it from N'Jobu and how fast she could get into that subspace sensation, that heady trippy place of peace that spanking often took her. It was a high better than weed. She didn't want to give that up. It was too hard to find dudes open to that type of stuff. N'Jobu was under the impression that she was a newbie to that type of kink. If only he knew.

Califia and Rolita ate tacos and talked about the show, and when they parted, she was determined to be a big girl, a boss like Serah. She wanted N'Jobu. She was going to have to navigate and reign in her feelings about him seeing other people. She enjoyed talking to him about books and school. She was eager to sleep with him too and desperately wanted to wear any and all marks from his hand on her bottom.

Could they make it work?

###

In his shower at home, N'Jobu rested his arm against the tile allowing warm water to rush down his back. After dropping Bridgette home at her apartment, he came home and stared at Califia's picture on his phone. He replayed the beauty of her dancing tonight, the passion she had on her face on that stage. He thought of the way she came running to him when he called her outside the theater. That expression of happiness he felt come over his own face at seeing her.

It felt like a punch in the heart when she reached him outside the theater and saw him standing with Bridgette. In an instant he watched her face turn from joy to sadness. He never wanted to see that look on her face again. Ever.

Driving home in his car he deleted all the numbers on his phone that belonged to any woman he was currently fucking. All except Serah. Only because she was now serious about a man she met in Florida, and their relationship had been over for some time in that way.

From here on out until the moment he was summoned home, his only woman was going to be Califia Stevens. He himself may just be a Prince, but he was determined to make her his Queen for as long as his time in the States permitted.

Revisiting her picture, seeing the marks he made on her, experiencing her willingness to go there with him no matter where they were…that had him in his shower, tugging on himself, fondling his balls, imagining all the nasty things he wanted to do to that woman. He turned off the water for a moment, just so he could enjoy the steam that engulfed him. The heat felt so good to his skin, he imagined it being the embrace of Califia, her hugging him from behind, her hands snaking around his middle and dropping down to grip him, stroke his length for him. He could hear the sound of her voice when he spanked her, wished he had been bold enough to stick his hands down her leggings and finger her. How hot would she look if he made her bend over the wing-backed chair in his bedroom, make her pull her panties down just to her knees, and then use his belt to make her cry out his name?

His mouth flew open as he felt the surging in his cock, his balls rising up at just the image of her bent over, ass jutting out, and her pussy open for him…

He watched his cum splash onto the tile, the heavy drops falling were loud to his sensitive ears. He should be inside of her. He wanted to be inside of her…her mind, her heart, and that warrior body.

Refreshed and clean, N'Jobu checked his cell. Califia hadn't responded to his call or message. She and Rolita must be still busy. He checked his kimoyo beads. His sister-in-law was finally free to talk. Bakari was at Shavonne's for the night. He could speak in peace and in private inside the apartment.

Getting comfortable on his couch, he called home. It was time to find out why his sister-in-law was concerned about his brother, T'Chaka.

###