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I was in love with Storm Underwood.

When you are in love you don't fuck around. No. You go balls deep in love. You feel the skin of love. No lube necessary. You thrust in love. Over and over. Deeper and deeper until your body shutters in pleasure. You climax in love. You don't pull out. Ever. That's what love is. That's how I felt about Storm Underwood.

"Ay you..."


Storm Underwood was looking at me.

He has on a leather D Squared jacket and some ripped up jeans with Timberland boots. He has a man braid at the top of his head but the sides are trimmed down and edged up with a razor. His beard is perfect as though it was created with mathematical precision.

"Me?"


My voice rattles. You ever had bitch in your throat? I mean not just regular bitch. I sound like a white girl from San Francisco all of a sudden. I sound like my parents have a trust fund. I forget where I am. I forget who I am when he looks at me. I become someone else. All of a sudden I sound like my name is Daisy instead of Demarco.

"Yeah, lil' nigga," he tells me, "You. Ain't no one else around is there?"


"No."


"Exactly. Come here."


Fuck.

"Um. Ok," I respond.

I walk closer. Storm Underwood was sex. He was chocolate. It wasn't just milk chocolate either. No. Storm was dark chocolate. His skin had the consistency of velvet. There wasn't a flaw in sight. You couldn't fake shit like that. He was a melanin man, a bronzed beauty, a glowing god and an Amber Adonis all rolled up in one. He was 6'4". His muscles were the things legends were made of. His eyes were almond shaped like perfect ovals. His lips were big like his hands. You know what they said about men with big hands.

I would swallow his nut and use it as a diet plan. He probably didn't even nut. He probably just oozed honey from his dick. I would let him do ungodly things to me. I'm talking Satanist ritualistic type shit. He could do ALL that. Shit, I'd let him fuck every hole I had. If that wasn't enough for Storm Underwood, he could make his own entryways. I wanted to be his personal hole puncher. I wanted to be his portable nut rag.


Just do what you got to do with me Mr. Underwood. I won't say shit.


Just do me Daddy.

"Do I know you? You look familiar"


"I don't know."


Lies. Why the fuck was I lying to Storm Underwood?


"Oh," he responds.

Storm Underwood comes in my best friends Cupid's tailoring shop every Sunday to get his clothes dry cleaned.

Every Sunday I stare Storm down like he was the 2nd coming of Jesus. Truth is he might as well be because I most definitely wanted to testify on his dick.

"I have your pants ready," Cupid tells Storm, "You want to try them on?"


"Sure do. Thanks man."


Storm had his pants tailored. He's throwing a white party this weekend. Storm heads towards the back and Cupid nearly faints from the slight second he brushed past Storm's fingers with his fingers. Cupid and I have both had huge crushes on Storm since we were much younger. I wasn't surprised Cupid was pretending to faint over the counter as soon as Storm goes into the back.

"He spoke to me," I state, fanning myself at that moment.

"Bitch, fuck words. He touched my hand," Cupid states.

Cupid was used to calling me a bitch. Cupid was a lot more feminine than I was. We'd been best friends since we were much younger. We'd went to high school with Storm. He was best friends with my cousin Malachi back when Malachi was in town.


"Great here comes the rats to mess up my damn day," Cupid says shaking his head.


He's referring to a group of girls that are coming in. They all have sketches of dresses that they need made.

"You got to be nice to your clients bro," I tell Cupid.

"What did I tell you about calling me bro?" Cupid asks me, "I'm a lady. What kind of faggot are you, girl?"


"The kind that doesn't like to be called girl," I respond.

"Ok trade. Go finish up in the back while I take care of these hood rats," Cupid tells me.

Trade was the name of a man who messes around with other men, but no one would know by looking or talking to him. I guess a part of me always figured I was a bit more on the masculine side. I wasn't in the closet by any means. I was gay and proud. I just never really fit into the 'gay scene'. Cupid was my only gay friend and the only reason we got along was we both were into fashion.

I was a stylist and Cupid knew how to sew. I would design clothes and he would make them. This whole tailor shop was just a front until we made it.

"Play nice," I warn Cupid before heading back.

Right now I go to the back and start designing my next outfit. It's an elegant dress for a girl. I'm talking rhinestones armor dress with a long train. No I wasn't designing for a Drag Queen. This was Atlanta. A lot of people referred to it as Black Hollywood. They did it for a reason. People wanted to treat Atlanta like the new Hollywood. When you came out here being normal wasn't just enough. You had to be grand. You had to make a scene. You had to be amazing.

"That's pretty good," a voice says.


I turn at that moment.


My mouth gets dry. Storm Washington is in the back of the store. He just walked out of the changing room and he's looming over me. He doesn't have a shirt on. His pecs are bulky, his stomach is lean and his torso is defined. As he leans over me I smell a natural musk on him. His cologne has deep, masculine tones to it. There is a warmth coming from his body that makes my loins tingle.


"This? It's just a dress I'm working on."


"You design?" he asks.

"Yeah man."


"That's what's up," he responds, "So you know clothes huh? That's good. I need your feedback on these pants. What do you think about them?"


He stands in front of the mirror. At that moment I get religious. I realize there is a God and he is awesome. He heals me when I'm broken, gives me strength where I'm weakened. He will be a merciful god. He has created such a beautiful thing that he lets me behold.


"Praise him..." I whisper under my breath.

"Huh?" Storm Underwood asks.

"I mean; it looks good man. You want your pants to fit like that. Not too tight. Not too loose. Curve around your ass...just right."


What a perfect ass Storm had too. I'm talking tight. Bubble butt.


"No offense man, but I'm not worried about the back. I'm thinking about the front. If you know what I mean," he responds, "What do you think? If you don't mind..."


He turns showing me the front of his pants. There is a bulge there. Nothing crazy but enough to let me know that this man is packing something heavy down there. I adjust in my chair. I swallow.


I get up off the chair at that moment. I walk over to him and pull at his pants. He lets me. I run my fingers adjusting the waistline. I can feel his hard abs pressed against my hands when I do it. They are rock hard. He probably stays in the gym all night making sure that chocolate body is driving the girls crazy.


"Perfect," I tell him examining his pants, "You're on 20."


"On 20. I had a friend back in the day that used to say that all the time," he laughs.

I hesitate at that moment.

"I wasn't completely honest when I said that you didn't know who I was," I admit to Storm, "You were friends with my cousin Malachi back in the day before he moved out of town."


"Malachi Carter, who sold drugs? Malachi, the Mixer?"

It's sad that my cousin was known as Malachi, the Mixer. Back in the day he was a big drug pusher. In Atlanta guys like my cousin Malachi were big deals. He used to hang with Storm who was also a big deal. Storm and Malachi were the Poster boys from the Atlanta nightlife. That was before they fell out over something and Malachi left town. Malachi became legit and Storm stayed in the streets.


"Yeah. I'm Demarco Carter."


Storm opens his mouth at that moment. He seems completely shocked to say the least. He stares at me hard. His eyes get wide.


"Oh quit fuckin' playing, lil' homie," Storm responds shocked and appalled, "You are Demarco Carter?"


"Yeah. I am."


"Ducky Demarco? Big duck lip, little ugly, bucktoothed Demarco who never would leave us alone and used to hide gay porn under his mattress?" Storm asks.

My face gets red. The nickname Ducky was definitely not a good thing. I looked like a goddam duck back then. I guess that's how I was known back then. I remembered when Malachi and Storm found the gay porn when I was younger. I used to think they would clown the fuck out of me but they never really did. They didn't out me to the entire school. They kept my little secret even from my mom. That's when I started falling for Storm. He was always so laid back and cool. He was never judgmental. Not only was he the sexiest man I had ever met, but he was also the nicest man I had ever met.

"That's me," I respond nervously.


"Malachi still getting in trouble?" Storm asks me.

I can hardly concentrate on Storm. He's getting closer. His smile is dazzling. When he laughs his muscles tighten and his pecs jump. It's distracting as fuck.

"Yeah yeah," I respond looking at his pecs, "I mean. No. Sorry. He's um...legit now. He actually just texted me this morning and said he was in town. I'll tell him you asked about him."


"Don't bother. We fell out. Still, I got to tell my sister Tempest that I ran past you. Remember you and Tempest used to date. Wait till I tell her about you. You grew up. She's gonna be surprised you grew into your looks. Shit you not that ugly little kid no more. Ha. "


The fact that Storm doesn't think I'm ugly anymore puts a smile on my face. You would think I'm a little fucking kid by how I react to something so simple and stupid.

"I hear Tempest is a big deal now. I hear you're a big deal too."


I have to keep it real. A big deal was an understatement. Tempest and Storm ran Atlanta.


"I wouldn't say a big deal. We are just club promoters," Storm says, "Matter of fact, we are hosting an All-White party tonight at ATL LIVE. You should come...."


His humility makes me fall in love with him even more. He is so fucking humble. You ever met someone that just has no idea that he was the shit. Like he literally had no idea that I would suck his dick until I got lockjaw. He had no idea that there were girls out there that came to the shop asking for dresses that Storm Underwood might like.

He had no idea that he ran Atlanta.


He was telling me about a party at ATL LIVE as if I didn't know. Everyone knew about Storm's parties. Atlanta was all about the club scene. I don't want to tell Storm that I had designed five dresses for five different girls for his party. Matter of fact for the past 5 years I had gotten most of my money from when Storm threw a party. People literally came from out of town to attend a Storm Underwood party.

"Not really my scene," I admit to him.

I designed dresses for girls who went to these parties. I never attended one of these parties. To say I was a homebody was an understatement. I had no social life. When you had more cats then you had friends your life was officially lame.

I was the lamest motherfucker in Atlanta.

"C'mon man. Tempest is going to be there. Your old girl," he laughs.

He's just teasing me. Tempest is way out of my league even if I were straight.


"Uh...that's not really my scene either."


"What do you mean? Girls?" he asks.

I nod.


"I'm a little different," I admit to him.

"You aren't about to tell me that whole phase with those magazines wasn't a phase are you?" He asks me.

It's awkward at that moment. Storm seems to pick up on what I'm saying.


"I'm gay."


There is a pause.

That's when Storm shrugs, "I don't care man. It's cool with me."


"It is?"


There weren't a lot of guys in Atlanta who were just cool with it. He was shrugging and smiling like he could care less what my sexuality was. That was what was so damn sexy about Storm. Storm was just so...fucking cool. I'd loved him from afar. I'd seen how he would help old ladies across the street. I'd seen him give money to every single pan handler that he walked past on the road. I'd heard about how a lot of the profits from the clubs went back to charitable events.

Storm Underwood wasn't just sexy. He was a motherfucking saint.

"Listen," he tells me at that moment, "I invited you to come. I'm not going to take back the invitation because of who you choose to fuck. That's ignorant---as Fuck! So yeah. Come through! Who knows? You might find a dude?"


He gives me a friendly tap on my shoulder.

He heads back towards the dressing room. I keep staring at him. Storm made me melt. And he was right about one thing. Who knew? I might just find a dude...


~

"Get out of here," Cupid is telling me, "You are like the Gay Moses. You have to go part the ocean so that I can follow you to the holy land."


I guess Storm Underwood was supposed to be the holy land. It is the end of the day and I just told Cupid about the fact that Storm was inviting me to this party. Cupid went out a lot but nothing like this. He went out to a lot of gay bars and things like that.

"I don't know," I respond, "My cousin Malachi is in town. He might want to hang out..."


"No offense. Malachi is fine as fuck, but you can't fuck your cousin," Cupid responds at that moment, "You can fuck Storm."


Cupid wasn't really helping the situation right now.

"It wasn't even that kind of invitation."


"How the fuck do you know?"


"Because he's straight. You know half these girls we make dresses for have dated Storm," I respond.

Cupid shrugs at that moment, "And all of them have said that he didn't fuck them."


"That doesn't mean he's gay."


"Are you serious?" Cupid asks shaking his head, "Straight guys fuck girls. They fuck a lot of girls. Storm Underwood could have any girl that he chose. Look at him. I mean...LOOK at him. He is the human equivalent of Godiva. He should be putting his dick in every Jane, Jill and Janet within a 50-mile radius at all times."


"Maybe he's a gentleman," I respond, "He is friendly as fuck. He comes in here every day smiling. You know Storm isn't that kind of guy."


"Well maybe it's time you go find out what kind of guy he is..."


"The invite was just friendly. He's friendly with everyone," I shake my head, "I'm not going to get my hopes up that I have a shot in hell with Storm—motherfucking---Underwood. This isn't a fairytale and my name is not Cinderella."


"You never know," Cupid states, "Until you go. You so masculine right? So stop being a little bitch and go. What, you going to play with your cats for the rest of your life? You need to get out there. We all know you don't like pussy."


I laugh at that moment.


Cupid did have a point.

Still. At the end of the day I didn't fit into that crowd. I was a loser. I'd always been a loser. My cousin Malachi was the popular one. I was the one who just sat around and pretended like everything was OK when it wasn't.

"It's not really my scene."

There was nothing Hollywood about me...

~

I head home. Cupid closes the shop up for me. I knew that he was living through me. He would probably give anything to have been the one invited to the party.

I head home and open the door. One of my cats Titi runs out of the door. I grab her. Just as I grab her I bump into someone and let out a quick gasp.


"Yo stop being scared all the time," the voice says.


I look up at that moment and see someone. It's a familiar face. He's 6'1". He has tan skin the color of chestnuts. He's handsome. He squints for no reason. He has a smooth face without the slightest bit of facial hair. He has big eyes that are a light brown color.

"Malachi what the hell you doing here?"


My cousin had told me he was in town, but I figured that he was staying at a hotel or something. The fact that he is standing in front of my door with a suitcase definitely comes as a surprise.


"I need help."


"Again?" I ask shaking my head, "Yo---I thought you went legit."


Malachi raises his hands. He does that often. My cousin has a way of dazzling people. It's hard to describe. He had those innocent looking eyes with those thick eyebrows. Malachi had a baby face. He gives me those big huge eyes at that moment.

"I did. I swear. I work for a big pharmacy corporation."


"Pharmacy?" I ask shaking my head, "Malachi you still dealing drugs aren't you."


"Not exactly."

My cousin has a way of raising his eyebrows when he's guilty of something or trying to hide something.

"MALACHI!"

"Listen. I can explain. So I'm not like selling drugs in the way you think. I was working for a company. They aren't exactly the most legit company. They were dealing with some dangerous shit. And I was helping them on a special project...."


"Malachi..."

Malachi ignores me, "Well...something went kind of wrong with the project and I kind of have to lay low for a while...."


"Malachi, look at me," I respond, "I don't want to know. I'm not going to jail. How long do you have to stay this time?


Malachi leans over and gives me a hug. He knows I can't say no to him when he gives me one of those hugs of his. He doesn't answer my question before coming into my apartment with his suitcase. Malachi has always needed help. He's always gotten in trouble.


See Malachi was a chemist. He had amazing talent. I mean at a young age he was creating his own drugs and shit. He was literally a Street Scientist. I spent years trying to teach Malachi how to turn his knowledge of chemistry into something legit. Malachi was the kind of smart that could find the cure to cancer but instead he was creating drugs that got people so high that they thought they had super powers.


"You always look out for me," Malachi states, "You know I love you right?"


I follow Malachi in the house. I'm annoyed honestly.

"We need to set up some rules. Last time you almost burned down my house with your experiments. I don't want you experimenting in my kitchen. At all. Malachi."


"Of course not. I've changed," Malachi says smiling at me, "You'll see. I promise. You know you miss me."


I sigh.

I kind of did.

"I'll make up the couch for you..."

"Couch. You developed a sense of humor Demarco. I like that. You know damn well I'm sleeping on the left side of the bed."

I'm annoyed. We were too old to be sleeping in the same bed anymore. When we were younger our mothers used to do everything together. Because our mothers were so close, Malachi and I had become close. We'd taken baths together. Malachi had taken me to my prom because I didn't have a boyfriend. For years he'd been the only man to sleep in the same bed as me.

He goes straight into the bedroom. The sad part is I already had a designated space in my closet for Malachi since the last time he left town. I hadn't even filled it. Hell... I still had his toothbrush here. I never had a man in my life.

"How do you know I don't got a man now?"


Malachi laughs at the idea, "A man? It's more likely

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