A Tribute to E. Lynn Harris
“Uhm, excuse me, Ashley, he is only twenty-two years old,” I practically yell into the phone. “Besides, I am through with men. Done. Finished. Work is my new love. My new man.” I begin biting my bottom lip.
“Chase, you think just because you’re the Vice President of Production for GBS Television that you don’t have needs?” Ashley says facetiously. “Vice presidents have sex, too.”
“I am not thinking about him. He is just a boy,” I say, but I am lying through my teeth. I swivel in my black executive chair and stare out into the New York skyline. My corner office has the perfect view overlooking Times Square.
“Whatever. And stop biting your bottom lip,” Ashley says.
“What are you talking about?” I put my hand over my mouth and look around my office.
“I know you are biting your bottom lip. You do it every time you are nervous or excited. And I know that intern is working you over.”
“Nobody is working anything. He is too young. And the operative word is INTERN!”
“Who cares?” Ashley snickers. “You’re both adults. What does age have to do with anything?”
“I am a professional, and I am sixteen years his senior. How would that look? Me fraternizing with an intern in my department. I have no interest or desire in sleeping with a young man. This is ridiculous. I am not in high school, or college,” I bark.
“All I’m saying is that you got needs and no man is meeting yours. I am sure you could use a good man to lay hands on your third leg and bless your boy coochie, amen,” Ashley laughs. “How long has it been anyway?”
I hesitate before I answer. It’s been six months since I’ve been touched, licked, or held in some strong man’s arms. Besides, three months ago I was promoted to vice president. I don’t have time to think about a man, especially not at a time like this. Our department is very busy with the upcoming Reality TV Awards.
“Look, I don’t think about it and neither should you,” I respond sarcastically. “Even though you are my best friend Ashley, I am not in your business and asking who you’re sexing.”
“Yeah, Chase, but I am not afraid to explore and have my sexual needs met either. I am certain yours need to be tended to,” she snaps.
“My only need is a man who is single, with no baby momma drama, or girlfriends lurking somewhere, and who has a good relationship with his mother, making a good living for himself, and not dependant on me. It’s really becoming difficult to find a successful black man with his own house, car, and money.”
Ashley sucks her teeth.
She is right. I do have needs, but I have been burned so many times I simply block out any desire to have sex. I mean, it’s normal for a thirty-eight year old man, right? I’m trying to remain abstinent.
Be faithful in prayer.
But, dear lord, I know one thing, my hormones are racing.
My loins are hungry.
My body is thirsty.
As much as I try to deny it, I need a man bad.
And, the new intern is working me over.
To purchase Visible Lives: Three Stories in Tribute to E. Lynn Harris click here.