It Can Happen To You, Vol 1
Series of Short Stories
By Phette Ogburn
Copyright © 2011
S & M: Sexts & Messaging
The ID
Organized Karma
Edited by: Shonell Bacon
Cover design by: Marisa Freeman
http://www.graphixbymarisaj.com
Smashwords Edition
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For Rico, Reyonna & Rica
S & M: Sexts & Messaging
“Hey,” from diesel2010. This is the message that popped up in my Yahoo chat. I did not recognize the sender so I typed “Hey. Who is this?” then hit enter.
“This is Kenzu. I met you, unofficially, thru FB a couple of weeks ago.”
I dug back in my memory bank trying to figure out who the hell this person was and how they got my information. I guess I was taking too long to respond because another message chimed in.
“We were commenting on a friend’s post and I mentioned how beautiful your name is.”
Ooooh! I thought.
“Yeah. Yeah. I remember. Urs is just as beautiful.”
“Thanks”
Not wanting to chat too freely because I was still leery about how and, more importantly, why he sought me out, I left the ball in his court.
“I snagged your IM off Facebook. I hope you don’t mind.”
We chatted for a few minutes, making small talk. We attended the same high school, but he graduated three years after I did. We had several mutual friends. He played football, both in high school then in college, before, of course, he was injured. His photo albums on FB were full of pics of him…and his wife.
He was recently married. The wedding photos were beautiful. His dark mocha skin contrasted against his crisp, white tux. She was wearing an off-white strapless gown. Her full breasts were a sneeze away from spilling up and out the dress. Her weave was long, with lots of ringlets. She was happy. Her thick lips stretched across her face in almost every pic.
***
A few days passed. My Facebook alert chirped on my Blackberry. “Friend Request – Kenzu Brantley.” I accepted the request, which I normally did if the person “appeared” to be decent. I was heavy into networking and always looking for more people to share and learn with. Minutes later I received a message in my inbox.
Hey. I enjoyed chatting with you the other day. Let’s do that again soon. Kenzu
I carried on with my day – work, school, kids’ homework, cooking dinner, watching television. Yep! Had the regimen down to a science. Since I purchased a Blackberry I no longer needed to spend countless hours on the computer. I mean, I did get on it occasionally, but most all my needs were at my fingertips via Crackberry.
“Cricket – Cricket” is the sound of my Yahoo messenger alert. My best friend Lana knew this was the best way to reach me. I’d long since given up on talking on the phone. Text, chat and email were the most effective ways to get my attention.
“Hey S. How r u?” she typed.
“I’m good girl. How r u and the baby doing?”
“We good. I’m rubbing my belly right now. LOL.”
“Tell her auntie luvs her & I’ll b 2 c y’all soon as she get here”
“I will. Ttyl. Luv u.”
“Luv u 2.”
As soon as I ended our conversation, I got another message. This time from him.
“Good evening Queen”
“Look at this brother trying to have game,” I said aloud to myself.
“Hello there”
“How was ur day”
“Busy. Urs?”
“Same here”
I sat the phone down as I prepared the next day clothes for me and the kids. When I heard the cricket chime more than two times, I made sure to quickly plug in a response so it could look like I was fully attentive. We chatted about things from movies, sports, love and marriage, food and Facebook.
“Well, it’s that time. Gotta get the girls to bed.”
“Oh ok. Enjoy the rest of the night.”
***
Fortunately I had the luxury of doing absolutely nothing at my job and still got paid for it. My boss was never in, so I didn’t have anyone breathing down my neck. Because my schedule was so regimented, the home page on my job’s computer was set to Facebook. I signed in, checked my messages, and then surfed to see if anyone was online worth chatting with early in the morning.
Not seeing anyone worthy of chatting with, I minimized the window and checked my personal emails. I heard a chime, notifying me that someone had spotted me on FB and wanted to chat. It was him.
“Good morning Queen. How are you this wonderful morning?”
I smiled before typing in my response. As the weeks had gone on I must admit, I looked forward to receiving messages from him. They brightened up my day. They gave me the excitement I needed to break up the monotony of my daily routine. His messages always did that. It’s as if I could hear each word as he’d type, though I’ve never heard his voice.
“Hi there. I have no complaints. U?”
“None here either. Glad to be on the sunny side of the dirt”
“Now that’s funny.”
“Well, I just wanted 2 say hello. I’ll IM u on messenger when I get the chance.”
“OK. Ttyl”
I perused through a few people’s pages, reading their info, checking out their pictures, looking at our mutual friends and their friends. Reading folks’ statuses gave me an idea of that person’s personality, their sense of humor, whether or not they were conservative, religious, outspoken, creative, crass, among other things. I went to Kenzu’s page and noticed he posted a new profile pic. My comment landed toward the end of the page. This was a very sexy picture of him. So I decided to follow suit and tell him so by simply posting “Very nice pic.” A few very short seconds later, I got notification that he “liked” my response.
***
I was sitting in the lobby of the girls’ musical class when I decided to take initiative. I scrolled over to the Instant Messaging folder then clicked on Yahoo. Up until this point, I had waited for him to let me know when he was ready to chat. This time I was ready.
“Hey!” I typed with confidence.
As soon as I hit ENTER I got nervous. Not really sure why, though. I mean, what could possibly happen through the phone? I scanned the room, looked at the clock on the wall, then at my phone. It seemed I did this about 100 times before he responded.
“Hey Queen. I was just thinking about u”
I exhaled. My heart started beating at its normal pace again. “O yea? Wht abt?”
“Ur attentiveness, ur compassion, ur beautiful smile”
“<blushing>”
“LOL. Wht r u doin”
“@ the girls’ practice.”
“OK. I was thinkn abt sumthn”
“uh oh. Don’t make ur brain explode”
“aaahhhhh! U got jokes, huh? LOL”
“naw, j/k. wassup”
“we been chattn 4 a couple mnths nw. was thnkn we could talk sumtimes. 313-555-2754”
“uhh, r u sure abt tht”
“I couldn’t b more sure”
I knew that I wasn’t going to be the first to call. So I gave him my number.
At work the next morning, I was removing my hat and gloves and hanging up my coat when I heard my cell phone vibrating and sliding across the desk. I ran over and quickly answered it.
“Hello,” I said almost out of breath.
“Good morning, Queen,” said the smooth, baritone voice on the other end.
It was just as I had imagined, if not better. Goose pimples covered my flesh. I felt my nectar stirring. I had drifted off to a place where it was just him and me. Touching, kissing and caressing all day.
“Hey you. How are you?”
“Much better now!”
This warmed my heart. I could feel the happiness in his voice.
“Aww. I’m glad you called. Now I can put the name and face with the sexy voice.”
“Now I’m blushing,” he said as he chuckled.
“Well, I’m only speaking the truth.”
“That’s sweet. So did you make it to work?”
“Yeah, I just got here when you called.”
“I’m sorry. You can call me back once you get settled.”
“No. No. I’ve been waiting for this moment. I’m good.”
“Likewise.”
Throughout that day we alternated between phone calls and messaging. Our days were consumed with communicating with each other by some means. He would either call in the mornings on his way to work or whenever his wife wasn’t around. I did not call often but when I did, it wouldn’t be without messaging and asking permission first.
He and his wife met when he delivered a package to the office where she worked. He was thirty-two years old and figured he’d better settle down soon before it was too late. Her body was rounder than what he was used to dating, but he was enamored by her fully fat backside.
When she signed for the package, he asked her to write her number down, too. He would soon find out that she was a church girl and saving herself. Within six months, they were married. He got some honeymoon head and thought they were headed down the right path, until the revelation.
He confided in me that she was into only oral sex, and when he tried to get creative she would scold and chastise him for wanting it any other way, often calling him a “freak.” Included in her list of stipulations was that they do “it” in complete darkness. Over the past few years she had gained a substantial amount of weight and had become self-conscious. Kenzu said that he was unaware of any of this prior to getting married. He said they would have phone sex almost every night when they were dating. She talked about all the things she was going to do to him after they tied the knot. When she didn’t uphold her end of the deal, he turned to other outlets.
“What about missionary?” I asked him during one of our many phone conversations.
“Nope. No penetration whatsoever.” He affirmed.
“WOW! That’s messed up.”
“Tell me about it.”
“Well is it only about the sex? I mean, do y’all get along otherwise?”
“I try to, but we really don’t have nothing in common. We don’t like the same foods, watch the same shows, have the same taste in music. Nothing.”
“Hmm. Have y’all talked about separating?”
“I talk about it all the time. But then she makes me feel bad and starts crying, talking ‘bout all I care about is sex and how I don’t love her…yada yada.”
“Do you love her?”
“Of course I do. I just don’t think she’s the person for me.”
“Well you gotta do something. Maybe you should try counseling.” I suggested, trying to remain as objective as possible.
“I am doing something; I’m getting to know you.”
***
When spring finally arrives in Michigan it is quite beautiful. I was able to wear my favorite white linen pants and a white crocheted halter top. I slid on my silver sandals with the rhinestones to set it off. My toes were freshly polished and my heels scrubbed –ready for the season. I picked up my phone before walking out the door, but stopped dead in my tracks when I saw a message from Quatrina Brantley.
I placed my purse on the table, sat down and began reading.
You don’t know me, but apparently you are familiar with my husband. I know you know he has a wife, so I’m not sure why you are choosing to keep communicating with him. But I’m coming to you woman to woman when I say STAY AWAY FROM MY MAN!!!! I saw the comment you left on one of the pics on his page. He is my man, not yours. Consider this your warning. I know you’re probably thinking that I should check him instead of you, but believe me, he’s getting his too. Don’t you worry about that. If I have to say anything else to you, I will be contacting your husband. And yes, I have been doing my research. Don’t mess with me.
I’m not the one!
My heart sank to the pit of my stomach. I couldn’t believe my eyes. Threatening to tell my husband because of a simple comment on a page? I was done with Kenzu. I was done with it all. I couldn’t risk my husband finding out and jeopardize losing my family.
The day proceeded like normal, aside from not having received any calls or messages from Kenzu. The day moved in slow motion. I completed tasks with no sense of hurry. I scrawled on random pieces of paper until it was time to punch out. Why was I tripping over a dude that I barely knew? And, not only that, a dude that wasn’t even mine? I guess it was because of the fantasy it provided. A form of escapism. He would speak to me in a way that put all my troubles at ease. He knew what to say and when to say it. Whenever I was sad, he would cheer me up with personal poems. Oftentimes when I’d get off work there would be a bag on my windshield full of my favorite things. He was considerate like that.