Backstory: Back in March I did a free write and posted it in my readers group on FB, here's the lead-up: sometimes (read: all the damn time) being my friend is a very weird place to be, LMFAO. i was riffing off of a friend saying she should fuck a clown (like an actual circus one & not a wack dude) earlier when she & i were having a conversation & then this happened.
“Whose kid is obsessed with clowns and the circus at this young of an age? See, I told you that test tube shit wasn’t legit, sis. Do we need to take my baby to get tested and make sure everything is okay?” I laughed.
My bestie Patty didn’t find my jokes too funny as it was her child in question. But I mean, honestly what five-year-old did we know that specifically requests their fifth birthday party have a big top theme, with the main attraction being clowns? None, until this kid! And considering that he was the product of artificial insemination, I thought my questions—although asked in jest—were valid. How much did we really know about the other half of his DNA? Yeah, we had the lil profile that the medical facility had on Donor X, but how did we know exactly how much truth was told when that man was jerking his lil swimmers into a cup so he could put some cheese on his burger? Nothing is fool proof and folks have gotten away with way bigger lies than giving a little info on paperwork that makes you look…a little less left of center.
“Hey! You were the one who took him to see Madagascar 3. That started this all, so basically this is your fault, Rock,” Pat replied, slyly.
“And you couldn’t talk him out of it? Dude, everyone knows clowns are creepy as fuck. You could have done the whole circus theme without clowns, sis! That movie was about the animals…”
“And were you about to bring a damn lion tamer and dancing elephants into my backyard big top, or…?” Pat queried.
“I mean…I suppose you have a point or whatever.”
I had to give it up to Pat though, I didn’t think she had it in her. Not that she wasn’t the very best mom to her namesake because she absolutely was, but she was never really the arts and crafts, hands-on, Pinterest is my Patronus kind of mom. But not only had she drafted me and her sister Lena to help, but she’d done the lion’s share of the decorating and preparation for the party. She’d converted one of those outdoor tents into a looking like a real life big top and rented cotton candy and popcorn machines from a local party company to provide snacks for the kids. The same company had also provided a few carnival style games that she had staged around the perimeter of the tent for kids and their parents to enjoy. It was wild adorable, and I knew PJ was going to enjoy it when the neighbor brought him back home slightly before the party was to begin.
“Okay, what else is left?” I asked, clapping my hands together and staring around the tent which actually looked like it had all finally come together.
“Nothing else left, but to get myself and Peej dressed,” Patricia said, glancing at the watch on her wrist, “Actually…”
“Actually what?” I asked, skeptically.
“Can you get the entertainment settled in while we get dressed at Miss Blakely’s? She custom sewed our outfits and we might have some last-minute alterations that need to get done? I’d ask Cel, but she just cut outta here like a thief in the night, sending me a damn text talkin’ about she’ll be back before the party ends,” Patty grumbled.
“You want me…who is deathly afraid of clowns. To be the point of contact for those creepy motherfu…” I started but was quickly interrupted by the appearance of the finest man I’d seen in a while peeking his head into the entrance of the tent.
“Excuse me,” my future ex-husband said, “is one of you Miss Patricia Payne?”
“I could be for you, baby,” I replied before Patty could even respond.
“Cool down, hot pants,” Patty muttered before informing the man that she was who he was seeking.
Apparently, he was one of those creepy ass clown entertainers that she’d hired but hadn’t gotten into full garb. Any positive feelings I had about him quickly waned just thinking about him with a fully painted face and big red shoes. I sighed, disappointed. Damn, thwarted once again! I thought. I’d been on a mission to get laid for the past six weeks and every time I thought I’d found the one to break my drought an obstacle appeared to quickly take the man out the running. Sometimes in the form of a wedding ring—or the shadow of long worn one clearly indicated by a deep tan line. Other times were like today…a stupid circumstance keeping me from possibly sampling the dick of life. The one that would get your girl back on the horse, so to speak.
“Are you gonna keep staring at that man like a creep or are you gonna say something,” Celena whisper-laughed in my ear as we stood near the back of the tent.
“I…have no idea what you’re talking about Little Lena,” I whispered back, trying to be quiet as he had the attention of the kids, and most of the adults in attendance as he cycled through his little magic show interlude.
Despite hating clowns, I had a serious thing for magicians. It went back to third grade when my crush, Danny Montana was seriously into magic and would perform mini-shows at recess to show off the skills that he’d learned at the Magicademy, a local haven for amateur magicians and lowkey grifters I found out the older I got. But for a good little while, a man who had a talent for sleight of hand buttered my grits like no other. Watching Skippy the Clown run through his stockpile of tricks currently had me trying to look past the red, white, and black paint on his face that completely erased the deep red-brown beautiful evenness of his face’s skin tone. The stupid outfit he wore was replete with gloves, so had I not seen him before the transition I’d be hard-pressed to believe that there was a fine as fuck, Black man underneath it all.
“Oh please, Patty already told me how you practically threw yourself at him before realizing he was about to transform into your worst nightmare. By the way…how are you holding up with all of this, Rock?” she asked, genuine concern etched into her features.
“It’s fine. I’m fine. And…so is Skippy the Clown, goddamn,” I groaned.
“You gotta shoot the J post party, Rock. Where’s that girl I know who’s not afraid to take anyone down?” Celena teased.
I shook my head, refusing to let myself be goaded into doing too much. I was hard up for new dick, no lie. But I wasn’t so hard up that I needed to be throwing myself at the entertainment at my godson’s birthday party. No matter how fine he was. And lord was he fine. He looked like TuPac, minus the nose ring, and I’d always had a little thing for Justice’s Lucky.
“Not even if I dare you?” Celena said.
Those six words were my kryptonite. Celena knew damn well I couldn’t resist a dare. It was a stupid thing that Pat and I had started as kids that Lena quickly picked up on as she grew up underfoot. She hadn’t said the words in the order that they needed to come however, so I was in the clear…for now.
“Nah, Lena. We’re too old for that dare shit…chill…”
“Ooh, who’s daring who to do what?” Patty said, catching the tail end of our conversation.
“Nobody is daring anyone to do anything because we’re all grown-ups,” I said, pointing at Patty, “And you’re somebody’s mama. We gotta let the dare thing go.”
“Hm, were we not grownups at happy hour two weeks ago when you dared me to get Tim’s number?” Patty asked.
“We were still on the precipice of maturing into our fully grown-up selves,” I shot back easily.
“You are so full of shit, Raquel. So, I triple dog dare you to do whatever you were thinking about doing with Skippy before you realized he was a clown!” Patricia smirked.
Fuck. And there was the phrase that I didn’t wanna hear. As we grew older, the price of not completing a dare had changed from when we were kids to having to do something else equally unpleasant, but in no way beneficial to there actually being financial ramifications if we didn’t follow through. I prided myself on never having to pay off Patty when I didn’t want to do a dare and tonight wouldn’t be the day I folded.
“Okay, bet. Tonight, I guess I’m bagging Skippy the Clown,” I said.
“Wait bagging as in…” Patricia trailed off.
“Juicing. Smanging. Smashing. Banging. Fucking. However, you wanna categorize it. Because that is what I was thinking about doing to that fine ass man before he ruined it with the makeup.”
“Damn and here I thought you were actually after something more…you had a twinkle in your eye…” Patty said.
“Oh girl, that wasn’t a twinkle but a devilish gleam as I imagined myself palming that nigga’s head like a bowling ball and letting that tongue pick up the spare in my pussy1” I cackled.
“Jeez, Rock. This is still a kid’s party!” Patty breathed out.
I giggled, “My bad, but you asked…”
“Actually, we didn’t, but do you sis. Do you,” Celena tittered, “For the record, I do not think you’ll have a problem accomplishing your mission because Skippy been eye fucking you all day long.”
“You’re buggin,” I replied, “That man hasn’t been paying me a lick of attention. He’s focused on his job.”
Shortly after I uttered those words, I’d made a liar of myself because I looked up toward where he was wrapping up his magic show and we made brief eye contact. Skippy grinned and shot me a quick wink before turning his attention back to the task at hand.
‘Buggin my ass! Whew, girl, you gotta let us know what magic tricks that nigga brings out in the bedroom because you know he has some in store…” Celena laughed.
I just shook my head, joining her in laughter, but also wondering what the night and Skippy the Clown had in store for me.
When I woke up this morning, I did not think that I would be ending the day coming down from my third orgasm in less than thirty minutes with the creator of said orgasms being the entertainment from my godson’s 5th birthday party. Skippy the Clown—whose real name was Eriq, by the way—had rocked my world multiple times and he hadn’t even taken off the black boxer briefs that clung to his body like a second skin, barely containing an erection that had me wondering if tonight would be the night that I raised my “riding ridiculously large dicks like a motorbike” jersey into the rafter because—goodness gracious. Eriq licked my shuddering flesh once more, slowly dallying at my clit with the tip of his tongue that should have been registered as a lethal weapon because sheesh. Kissing his way back up my body to join our mouths, Eriq plied my mouth with slow, lip smacking smooches that were way too intimate for virtual strangers. I was following his lead though because so far it had yet to let me down.
As he pulled back, I could feel him taking me in, despite my eyes barely being open as I swam in bliss, “You aight, shorty?”
The rasp in his voice was natural but sounded like he’d been the one screaming adulations at the top of his lungs for the past half hour instead of me. I nodded once, then cleared my throat to speak.
“I am…more than aight, Eriq,” I damn near purred, feeling myself slowly drifting off into the first stage of sleep as I turned onto my side and snuggled up to one of the pillows on my massive bed.
“Uh uhn…” Eriq said, smacking me firmly on the ass, “I’m not done with you yet.”
The slight bark in his voice, rejuvenated me in an instant as I looked over my shoulder just in time to see him taking off those boxer briefs and rolling a condom onto all of that dick that suddenly appeared. I rolled back over, sitting up, bracing my back against the headboard, lower lip tucked between my teeth waiting for whatever was coming next. I didn’t have to wait long as Eriq reached out and tugged my ankle, dragging me down to the edge of the bed right in front of him and sliding into my warmth without giving me a second to catch my breath. He slid in easily, filling me to the point of overcapacity, but I had zero complaints as he slid backwards slowly, retreating and setting the rhythm for our coupling.
A mind-blowingly slow dick down…one that had me ready to be on my Jill Scott and ask him if he’d like me to whip up any variety of soul food items that were in the pitifully low cooking repertoire that I possessed. Hell, we could GrubHub it on my dime if necessary. That thought caused me to chuckle, which prompted Eriq to ask me what was so funny. Because the truth wasn’t an available option, I played it off, distracting him with contracting my pc muscles around him each time he tried to retreat from my pussy.
“Shit, shorty…your girl got some grip, huh?” he groaned into my neck and he ground into me deeper.
I barely had a chance to respond as he switched up on me, pounding into me with unrelenting strokes that barely allowed me to get my bearings let alone try to keep up with my pussy magic tricks. Before long, I was hooting and hollering like a porn actress, completely consumed by Eriq ruling my body and sending me hurtling headfirst into release once again. I was so high, I barely registered that he was still going, succumbing to his own pleasure shortly after I’d gotten mine. Eriq collapsed onto me, his heavy weight feeling like the best substitute for my weighted blanket as I felt myself drifting off once again. I barely registered him finally pulling out and going to dispose of the condom before rejoining me into bed. The last thing I remembered was him saying was, “Damn, you didn’t even get to see my last trick.”
“Remind me to just pass you the buck fifty the next time you dare me to do something that involves a nigga who possesses the talent of sleight of hand,” I groaned into the phone.
Patricia was on the other end of the FaceTime call looking hella amused at my plight.
“You were miss hot to trot to…what did you say again? Oh…I know! To bag the clown. Juicing. Smanging. Smashing. Banging. Fucking. Ain’t that what you said?” she smirked.
“I…don’t recall,” I said, “But like I said, magicians…we off that.”
“What…happened? I don’t need the dirty details because you look thoroughly fucked, so this complaint confuses me.”
“It was perfect, PattyCake. Absolutely perfect…until…he said some shit about me not experiencing his last magic trick, right? Which I totally thought was code for some freaky shit with my ass, which, full disclosure I was totally into because the dick was that good, okay?! So, he starts playing with Miss Kitty…”
“I said I didn’t need the dirty details!” Patricia interjected.
“Pertinent to the story though!” I pleaded.
Patty cringed slightly, “Fine, proceed…”
“Proceed…ugh…that’s exactly what happened. Here I thought the nigga was priming the pump to get me ready for another round, but instead he pulled thirty-two bandanas out of my pussy!”
“No, I didn’t come again, damnit! I was too freaking out by the never-ending swatches of fabric emerging from my pussy! And he was butt ass naked, so I don’t even know how he managed to do that shit without it being hella noticeable! Pat—this ain’t funny damnit, stop laughing so hard!” I screamed.
It was too late, though. She was too far gone; the point of no return had been reached if her screeching chortles were any indication. I let it take its course, eventually succumbing to a few giggles myself at the absurdity of it all. After a few minutes she’d regathered her composure to ask what I did after the parade of polyester left my pussy.
“I kicked his ass out expeditiously!” I said, incredulously, “What do you think happened?”
“Hey, you’re the one who voluntarily took the goddamn clown home for sexy times. Maybe he thought you’d be into the shit!” Patty giggled.
I shook my head grimacing, “There was a line. It was a fine one, but it still existed. Girl why would he think that shit would be something I would be into?”
“Do you not remember eye fucking him the entire time he was pulling things out hats and making objects disappear? He was just continuing the vibe, sis.”
“I cannot stand your ass; I promise you that.”
“Whatever, polyester pussy. You’ll get over it.”
“Oh my god, this is not a name that will continue beyond today so get all your jokes off now!”
“Okay, wait. I have one question…how do you know it was thirty-two bandanas though?”
“Well…after being initially freaked out, I got a little intrigued by the fact that it seemed to be never ending so I started keeping count in my head,” I shrugged.
“Shit like this only happens to you, Rock!”
“Ugh, I know. Just a lucky girl I guess,” I groaned, shaking my head.