Best Black Women's Erotica by Blanche Richardson Read Free Book Online

turned the knob slightly to the left to cool the water. She unscrewed the cap on the tequila and poured herself a drink. Her husband had taught her the proper way to drink tequila on one of their first dates, but she hadn’t felt like going through the trouble of slicing a lime or bringing the salt shaker to the bathroom just for herself. She tilted the glass to her lips and swallowed the contents in one gulp.
    â€œWhew!” she said, shaking her head and shoulders. Her husband always said “the first one is the worst one.” She screwed the top back on the tequila and noticed that there was cleanser under her nails. She used the fingernail brush to scrub her hands and dried them on her son’s pajama bottoms, which hung from a hook on the back of the door. As she walked back into the bedroom to find her vanilla-scented candles, the phone rang.
    â€œHello?” she said.

    â€œHey, Baby.” It was her husband. “What chu doin’?” he asked. She loved hearing his voice on the phone, and pressed the received closer to her ear.
    â€œNothing,” she responded. “I was getting ready to take a bath. What’s up with you?”
    â€œJust wanted to see if you’re enjoying your little moment alone,” he said. “That’s all.”
    â€œOh,” she said, disappointed. She was hoping he was calling to say that he was coming home early. “So, what time are you getting off?”
    â€œSoon as I get home,” he teased. It took her a second to realize what he meant.
    â€œShut up,” she said, a broad smile spreading across her face. She stroked the skin between her breasts, where she could still feel the warmth of the tequila. Her nipples were erect again, but this time it wasn’t because of the cold. The more she heard his voice, the more excited she became, and while he told her about the latest drama on the job she listened just to feel his voice resonate throughout her body. She held the phone between her chin and shoulder and slid her hands over her body, pretending they were his hands softly caressing her.
    â€œSo, what time are you coming home?” she interrupted.
    â€œI’m supposed to be off at 1:00 A.M.,” he replied, “but if it’s slow I’ll be able to leave early. You want me to bring you anything?”
    â€œJust you.”
    â€œOkay, Baby,” he said, recognizing the disappointment in her voice. “I’m gonna get home as soon as I can, all right?”
    â€œOkay,” she said softly. “I miss you.”
    â€œSee you in a minute, Baby.”
    She returned to the bathroom. The tub was full and she turned off the water, then poured herself another shot. She lit two candles, flicked off the overhead light, and eased one foot into the bath water. It was still a little hot, but she figured it
wouldn’t take long to cool. She lowered herself into the water inch by inch, allowing her body to acclimate to the temperature.
    Once she was seated in the tub, she breathed in the steamy air slowly and deeply, then exhaled as the water’s warmth wrapped around her body. The light from the candle cast flickering shadows around the small room, and the sweet smell of vanilla lingered softly in the foggy air. She slid further down into the water so her chest was completely submerged. Her body relaxed, the day’s tension melting away from her neck and shoulders. She closed her eyes, seduced by the music, the warmth of the water, and Mr. Cuervo. She awoke five minutes later, surprised that she’d fallen asleep so easily and so deeply.
    When her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she reached for the bath gel and held it at arm’s length above her, letting it pour out in a thin stream onto her stomach. She smoothed the gel across her belly and wrote her and her husband’s names in the lather with her finger. She drew a big heart around their names and laughed at the memory of writing their