I’m lying here in bed wondering where in the hell the time has gone. It dawns on me that Christmas is right around the corner. Can you believe that shit? It feels like I just blinked my eyes and now it’s November. Humph. Before you know it, the year will be over, it’ll be time for a new supply of dick, and time to sift through another year of new bullshit. Oh, joy! And I still haven’t made my appointment to rid myself of this unwanted pregnancy. To be honest with you, I don’t know what is keeping me from taking a coat hanger and scraping my insides up myself. I don’t think I’m having a change of heart or anything crazy like that. And I know it’s not something I can ignore and think it will miraculously disappear. I’m already six weeks so I don’t have a lot of time to play with.
Anyway, besides having this abortion, I’m already thinking about doing something different for the upcoming holiday season. I mean, it’s always nice to spend the holidays with family, but every damn year? I don’t think so! This year, I want to go away. Actually, I need to get away. It’s been a long time since I’ve been anywhere. And this year, I think I want to bring the New Year in somewhere else besides here. Somewhere exciting; somewhere exotic; somewhere captivating. I consider this, for a moment, then decide I need to also be someplace secluded, where I can kick back, and chill. Fuck and suck on some unknown dick. Yeah, that’ll take the edge off. Some good, thick, foreign dick is exactly what I need to ring in the New Year. The question is, where?
Maybe Hawaii, I think, imagining myself prancing around in a hula-skirt and bikini top, shaking and popping my hips on the beach, dropping down low and sucking down on some Polynesian cock. Or perhaps Tahiti or Bora Bora where I can hopefully fuck all night in a bungalow that overlooks soothing waters. Hmm…I wonder if Polynesian men are circumcised, or if they have a slab of skin flapping over the head of their dicks. I laugh to myself, shaking my head. “Girl, you a damn trip,” I say, giggling. “All you do is sit around thinking about dick.”
You got that right, baby, I answer in my head. Cock does the body damn good.
My home phone rings, disrupting my musings. I sit up in bed and lean over, glancing at the caller ID. It’s my mother.
“Hello, Mom,” I say.
“Bianca?” she asks, surprised to hear my voice. “Well, hello to you, too, young lady. Your father and I were wondering when we were going to hear from you.”
“I’m sorry. I’ve been meaning to call you,” I state apologetically. “I’ve been so caught up with work and whatnot.”
“Mmm-hmm,” she says, half-believing me. “Too busy to pick up the telephone to check in on your aging parents. You know—the parents who worked hard to provide you with a good, decent life; the ones who loved you and spoiled you rotten.”
I roll my eyes, wondering why she always feels the need to try to make me feel guilty when it never works. “Mom, you and Dad look wonderful to be retirees, and I’m sure the both of you have enough going on to keep you busy to not notice how long it’s been since we’ve spoken.”
“Oh, nonsense,” she snaps, chuckling. “Flattery will get you nowhere. You’re our baby and our only daughter, so naturally we are going to get worried when we don’t hear from you in over a month. A month, Bianca? My God!”
“Okay, okay. You made your point, Mom. I apologize.”
“Well, what has kept you so busy that you can’t find the time to pick up a phone to call us? I hope it’s a nice young man. It would be wonderful to see you married. And I would love to be around to see my only daughter give birth to her firstborn.”
Oh, Lord, I think, shaking my head. Here we go with this mess again. For some reason, my mother has been dropping hints about seeing me with a nice man, getting married and bearing children while she’s still alive.
“No,” I snap. “It’s not a man.”
“Well,” she huffs. “I wish it was a man, then I could understand your forgetfulness.”
“Mom, it’s not, so let’s please change the subject.”
“Well, are you at least dating?” she asks, ignoring my request.
“No, but I’m pregnant, and fucking everything moving,” I hear in my head. I shake the words out of my mind. “No,” I answer, getting up from the kitchen table, then climbing the stairs to my bedroom. “I’m not dating. I don’t have any interest in all that right now.”
I want to tell her I don’t like men. Think to tell her that I’m considering sucking clits and tits. Hell, I should tell her I’ve decided to have three kids by three different men. That will surely throw her into cardiac arrest. But she’s my mother, and I love her too much. So, I decide against it, knowing she’d kill me first before she passed out.
“Besides,” I continue, removing my bra and panties. “I don’t really have the patience for a man, nor do I want one.” I stare at myself in the mirror, admiring my beautiful nakedness. I run my hands along the front of my stomach, holding it in, then poking it out, trying to imagine myself with a pregnant belly. I frown at the image.
“You don’t want one?” she repeats, almost choking. “Please tell me, my dear child, what would you prefer over a man?”
His dick. “A slow, burning death,” I state.
“Bianca,” she gasps. “Are you losing your mind?”
“Only joking,” I say, laughing. “I mean about the slow burning death. But I am definitely serious about not having time for a man.” Only what hangs between his legs, I think, turning around and admiring my firm, plump ass.
“And why is that?”
I sigh. I swear I love my mom. We have a wonderful mother-daughter relationship. One in which we can laugh and share hurts and pains. We are very close, for the most part. Probably not as close as we should be, but close enough for me to know that I can go to her in time of need and she’ll always be there without question or reservation; that I can talk to her about anything without judgment, if I chose to. But when it comes to men and love and relationships, she and I will always be at odds.
Though she believes a woman should be financially able to take care of herself, something she instilled in me, she also believes a woman should have a man, a companion, someone to complete her. I, on the other hand, believe a woman doesn’t need a man to complete her. She should already be complete. A man should be there to complement her.
“Most of ’em come with too many issues for me.”
“Oh, please,” she says dismissively. “We all have issues. That doesn’t mean that there isn’t someone special out there for you. There are some really good men out there. You just have to open your heart and mind to them.”
Or in my case—my legs, I think, chuckling as I slip into a burgundy lace teddy.
“What’s so funny?” she asks.
“Oh, nothing,” I lie. “You never cease to amaze, Mom. And that’s why I love you so much. You will stop at nothing until you have me married off.”
“Well.” She giggles. “Sweetheart, I’m anxious to see you with a good man, someone who will make you as a happy as your father has made me.”
I smile. “Mom, what you and Daddy have most people only dream of. I don’t think I could ever be so lucky.”
“Sure you can. You have to believe. And pray on it.”
Oh, trust me, Mom, I think. I definitely prey on it.
I laugh, realizing there will never be any winning with her. “Mom, if nothing else, I believe you are always praying on it.”
She laughs, too. “You know me so well. Now, tell me. What day will you be flying in?” she asks, changing the subject.
“I’ll be there Wednesday night, and flying back on Friday,” I say.
“Oh,” she replies, sounding disappointed. “I thought you’d be staying a little longer than that, since we don’t see much of you.”
“Mom, I was just there a few months ago.”
“And you only stayed two days that time as well. It really doesn’t make sense to me for you to fly out all this way and not stay for at least a week.”
I laugh. “Mom, if I were staying a week, you’d be saying that wasn’t long enough. Then you’d want me to stay a month.”
“And what would be so wrong with that?” she asks, laughing.
I think about her question, try to consider my response, remembering my visit for the Fourth of July weekend. My parents were having a big family barbeque and wanted all of us there. And while I was there, everyone doted on me, showering me with love. But the one thing that put a damper on my almost perfect visit was the lack of dick. And, my wonderful, loving brothers—all six of them—made sure that getting any was damn near impossible. So the only fireworks popping off that weekend were the ones going off down at Balboa Park, ’cause there definitely wasn’t anything cracking between my legs.
I smile. “Not a thing, Mom,” I finally say. “I can’t wait to see you.”
“I can’t wait to see you either, baby. Travel safe, and see you when you get here.”
“I will,” I say, hanging up. “I love you.”
“And your father and I love you more,” she says in her sweet, motherly tone. I smile, hanging up, looking forward to feasting with my family.