A Quarter Dirty Dozen Stories by James Wood Page B

her ass before passing it to Sadie.
    As Evan finishes peeing, her hears the girls
giggling. Evan washes his hands, looks at himself in the mirror,
looks down at his cock, which is upright again, the head
glistening, his foreskin back, his balls tight.
    Evan swallows as he enters the room pulling
on his cock, “OK, bridesmaids, hold on, here I come.”
     
    * * *

Naleidi
     
    I’m at my desk reading through a thesis in my
small apartment in the graduate dorm where, by dint of a messy
divorce, I’ve been forced to sequester myself as an RA while I rent
out my house until I can regain some financial solvency. Outside
the rain is pouring down in the dark, and I hear the thunder rumble
to the west. Pausing to underline a particularly clumsy sentence, I
hear the shuffle of feet outside my door and I sense the presence
of a visitor. I get up from my desk, cough gently, walk over to the
door, open it, and there is Naleidi.
    “It’s really raining, like the rainy season
back home,” Naleidi says.
    She’s standing in the corridor and I usher
her in. She’s full in an African way, very beautiful, dressed
traditionally in a colorful floor length wrap. She walks in with an
air of grace and dignity. This is the first time she’s been to my
room, though we are friends. She knows that I’m interested in our
mutual friend, the Greek Ph.D. student, Chloe. I wonder if this is
a visit to assess my potential as a suitor for Chloe.
    Naleidi sweeps into the room and takes it all
in, the Balinese masks on the walls, the charts, other pictures
from my various travels.
    “A drink?” I offer.
    “Why not?” She has an aroma that is
unmistakable, something I can detect from beneath her perfume.
There’s a raw, animal quality to it that speaks directly to my
libido. I had never really thought about Naleidi sexually before,
though I have always been in awe of her facial beauty and superior
bearing. But now, in my room, swathed in tight cotton, her full
buttocks and breasts are having an effect on me.
    “Are you busy?” Naleidi asks.
    I turn. “Not really. I was making myself
busy, reading a thesis. I don’t really have to. It’s nice to have a
break,” I smile, and turn back to finish mixing the glasses.
    Naleidi is looking out at the rain beating on
the empty parking lot outside. “It’s nice that it’s so quiet,” she
says, “but soon they will be back – the students. Chloe, too.”
    Now I think we’re reaching a change
point.
    I walk into the kitchen and mix our gin and
tonics. I make them strong. I can smell Naleidi’s fresh skin and
her underlying animal scent. It’s an erotic mix, the alluring and
the animal. I feel the charge.
    She takes the drink and smiles. “Music,” she
says, “I know you like music. Put something on.”
    I walk over to my CD rack, find some Sunny
Ade and put it on. The West African rhythm lightens the room and
I’m reminded of my travels. I move my shoulders in backward
circling movements as I was shown.
    “Ha! You move like an African,” Naleidi says,
moving her own shoulders to the rhythm. “You know, I’ve never been
attracted to a white man before.”
    I look at her and she smiles, dropping her
forehead and staring at me. I wait.
    “But,” she says.
    I breathe in slowly – expectant.
    “Your friend Martin, though … he’s a very
attractive man. What?” Naledi adds, looking at me. “Oh, you thought
…” Naleidi laughs, “you thought I was going to say … ” She lifts
her glass, “Cheers,” she says, and we both laugh.
    We dance and I turn up the volume. Outside
there is a crash of thunder and Naleidi hoots with joy. “Someone is
angry!”
    I take her glass and mix us both another
drink. Naleidi has one hand on her hip and she is circling it
slowly. Her buttocks are full and round and I feel a twinge of
desire. She is looking at me, sweating slightly and her bosom is
rising and falling with the effort of dancing. I sidle alongside
and we circle our hips together; then I