Monday, March 29, 2010

Ssshh! Be quiet! (Part 1)

Sunday, 4:55pm.

Raheem DeVaughn’s ‘Bedroom’ serenaded loudly through Trish’s pink headphones that were attached to her laptop. She sat in a secluded area in the Business and Technology department of the main Allen County Library. Her slender fingers furiously attacked the keys as she finished her paper on African Psychology that was due the following day. Her apple bottom had long ago gone numb from sitting on the hard floor and her neck screamed for her to at least stretch it out. However she was determined to keep her 4.0 grade point average.

On the intercom a librarian announced that the library was now closing and all patriots had to leave. Unfortunately that announcement did not reach Trish’s ears. Fifteen minutes til six, Trish had finally typed in the last reference to her essay. She saved it and stretched her thick limbs before packing up her things still oblivious to the library being closed. Trish emerged out from between the rolls of bookcases, red Louboutin heels clicking with each step.

Something made Trish look up from scrolling through her Blackberry. The lights in the Business and Technology department had been dimmed. No occupants resided on the computers, no familiar frantic click, clicking of keys being typed or music blaring out of someone’s headphones. Also no nerdy librarian stood at the department’s desk with their noses stuck in some book. She headed out of the department and looked down at the first floor below her. Normally a screaming baby or inappropriately dressed teenagers would be wondering back and forth but not a soul was present down there either. Her heart sunk to the bottom of her stomach. Trish flew down onto the first floor as swiftly as she could in stilettos. Every door she tried would not open. She ran down to the opposite end and got the same result.

“This is not hap…” Her complaining was interrupted by a clanking sound. She could not tell where it came from or if she actually heard something at all. Standing by the main entrance’s doors like a mannequin Trish stretched her ears to hear another sound. “Gurl, you are trippin’ right now.” She scrolled through her phone to see who she could call to get the hell up out of there.


Trish’s head snapped up. The sound was louder; this time she was not tripping. Her legs started walking toward the dark hallway. She felt like those nosy white girls in the scary flicks that always had to go investigate every eerie sound. However this was no horror movie, no one to say CUT when her ass became someone’s victim.

At the opposite end of the narrow hallway was bright light seeping out of an open doorway. Shadows bounced off of the floor. She never prayed so hard in her life walking toward that open door, she hoped it was a janitor. Her heart beat overpowered the tiny clicking of her heels.

Once she was outside the door, her head slowly poked around the threshold of the door. Paint bottles were on the floor. Some were toppled over with the tops open letting vibrant colors of paint to intermingle with each other. Paintbrushes were along side of the paint bottles. She averted her eyes deeper into the room but jumped back as soon as she saw Timbaland boots in the middle of all of the colorful mess. When she collected her breath and was sure that she had not been noticed, she peaked back around. Her green eyes started at the black and gold Timbaland boots with navy blue khaki pants spilling over the tops of the boots haphazardly. She slowly worked her eyes upward stopping at a tight butt that no amount of baggy pants could hide. Trish watched its muscular form move in the khaki’s. Farther up a white wife-beater hugged a wide back. Taunt muscles flexed and released as his upper body flowed smoothly, like a perfect orchestra being conducted. Sweat started to form as she admired his long, black dreads swinging halfway down his back. She could not see his face, but what she did see was exquisite. Her body responded. It had been months since she has had any kind of loving, not counting with herself. Now the man that she created in her imagination in the comfort of her own bed was standing mere feet away.

Yeah I know, but the rest will come tomorrow. Now go take a cold shower!