A Tribute to E. Lynn Harris

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.

Very bad.

And, the new intern is working me over.




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