“Why don’t you tell me your name.”


“You’re a liar.” Immediately she blushed, but she stood her ground and tucked her smirk away. “Fine, Cherry. I’m Banana.”


“Pleasure to meet you.” She said. They clinked drinks. She watched the way his jaw moved as he spoke and laugh; enjoying his salt and pepper hair steal the show. His watch twinkled from the dim lights above, and his two buttons undone from his collared shirt, let her know he was at ease.

“You really know how to kick back a drink. I think we’ve had about five whiskeys already.” He was impressed.

“I have to ask how old you are,” she said. Conversation led to this because of how at ease he was discussing pop culture and not blinking an eye at any of her questionable lingo. Yet, his freckled brown skin and gray hair added age.

“62.” His answer was flat and experienced. As though he was used to always telling his age and receiving acts of surprise and astonishment. Her only response was a rise of the eyebrows and a sip from her drink. “Older not your thing?”

“I wouldn’t say it’s my thing or not. Never dated anyone outside my 20s age range.” He nodded, understanding her sentiment.

“I’m not 62 in other areas, though.” Suddenly, there was a heavy silence wedged between them.

“So show me.”


Cherry waltzed into the penthouse suite of her newly acquainted stranger-friend. Her lips accustomed to the curve of his lips and the way his straight jaw locked when he picked her up.

She did a quick double check to remind herself how she got here in the first place.

Her impulsive decision brought her to Louisiana after a dirty divorce. A marriage that happened too quickly. Longing for some type of fun. Something that would take her mind off her life back home. Home is an overstatement. She regretted her mundane lifestyle of corporate living with San Francisco’s snooty population. She traded in her daily medium latte for a daily dose of New Orleans’ infamous Hurricane cocktail instead.

Colorful doors and brick buildings lined alongside the cobble stone streets. Her sandals clicked on the pavement, but could not be heard over the massive trumpet playing a few blocks away.

Her trip all in her lonesome was a way to spark something new within her and explore parts of herself.

So she stepped into a rustic, nearly underground bar. Hidden in New Orleans’s humid heat and musical-filled air. There she clinked drinks with a man whose tie was loosen and exposed salt-and-pepper gray hair. His brown skinned coated with a light sweat and his face filled with hope once she sat down.

  • She traded in her daily medium latte for a daily dose of New Orleans’ infamous Hurricane cocktail instead.

    – Untraditional

  • The kissing never stopped between the drive and the room. Next, he carried her through the door, never skipping a beat as their tongues played around. Gently, she was laid upon a huge bed. She stretched her body across the extra room alongside every angle.

    Streetlights illuminated the room through floor-to-ceiling windows. The hotel was modern, rustic, similar to the bar they met at. With a lofty tone, there was enough air circulating the room but not enough to keep them cool.

    She was ultimately delighted to be in the presence of someone who seemed to know what he was doing. She didn’t say much but with her hands and lips. He handled her gently and firmly. He didn’t let her go too far without pulling her back into his embrace.

    She took her clothes off without being asked, settling into the nook of the fluffy pillow-top mattress.

    Out of surprise, he took his tie off to wrap across her eyes and his shirt to bind her wrists. Blindfolds weren’t her thing because she never experienced it before. Therefore, she saw absolutely nothing, while he saw absolutely everything.

    Each time she tried to speak, he said, “shh,” she did as she was told. The makeshift blindfold was adjusted and the tie around her wrists was firm. “I’ll be right back. Don’t move.”

    The way her clit peeked from between her pussy lips without being too obvious drove him insane. He could tell she was anxious and wet, but he was amazed at her patience. She was calm, allowing him to relax in her presence.

    She felt him go and come back. Her hearing was supersonic as she could tell he had placed something on the nightstand. Getting comfortable on the bed, he settled in between her legs. She felt his desirable, soft lips kiss against her thighs. Unexpectedly, she felt something cold and wet go against her clit. Her body tensed from anticipation and she anxiously bit at her bottom lip.

    Whatever it was that pressed against her clit was soft, with a thick syrup. Or maybe that was her. And yet he struggled concentrating because of the impenetrable sensations.

    He blew a cooling breath of air on her clit, plumping the button to peek out. Afterwards, he reached up and pressed to her lips the piece of pineapple. “Eat it.”

    She licked away her juices first before using her tongue to bring the cold piece of fruit into her mouth. Following that, another pineapple chunk glided across her nipples. Nipples that hardened and he suckled on them. His other hand playing with her clit and rubbing her nectar all over. Her squirming to avoid orgasm became erratic; it felt too good to be still.

    “So you just have fruit lying around?” He wasn’t expecting that.

    “It’s called a fridge. Now, ssh.” His snap back turned her on.

    He listened to her quickened breathing and shallow sighs. Her firm and full breasts on top of her body reached his expectations of ecstasy. His fingers trailed down her curves to become acquainted with her body.

    She didn’t realize how wet she was until his tongue glided against her clit unexpectedly. A smooth, heavy lick that made her toes curl. Her fingers tugged on her lips, but that’s when he pulled her wrists up above her head. This was a compromising position she hadn’t felt before. It was being in control with no control. She knew she had all the feels, but she couldn’t decide which feeling and that thrilled her.

    He sucked on her nipples, and his hands juggled her breasts. Her moans were elusive and soft; hardly heard, and he loved it.

    She was squirming beneath his licks and kisses, and she could feel how wet her pussy was deceiving her.

    Maybe it was too soon, but he could tell she was on his level. He didn’t feel inexperienced or overqualified handling her body in his hands. They were meeting equally onto a level of arousal and passion never encountered before.

    Her pussy become molded puddy around his dick. He was engrossed giving slow strokes, watching her lips distort in pleasure. After he removed the blindfold, she opened her eyes to his sweaty and shiny body. He felt empowered to entrance her. She took him in with ease, comfort and relaxation. He melted into her body and she let him in. She accepted every inch of him without flinching.

    The entire night she forgot his age, his gray hair, his seasoned look. She forgot her own age too with the way he handled her with ginger and passion.


    The smell of bacon and potatoes woke her from her somber sleep. The heavy heat tried its best to enter the cool and crisp air conditioned room. Once her sight adjusted, “Cherry” wrtiten on an envelope, looked at her from across the king-sized bed and saw a flat, empty space. Although, she felt disappointed, annoyed, but understood the circumstances.

    She counted eight Grants and eight Benjamins. This was two months’ rent stiff and crisp in the palm of her hand. Disbelief wavered over her to process everything.

    She never experienced that before, she didn’t know what to think of it. Nonetheless, this money was nothing to her corporate high-end job. Then, she took a few breaths while having a staring contest with the ceiling.

    Tucked away beside the money was a small note:

    Let’s do this again? Next time, I’ll double it. And let’s invite the sun. – Banana

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  • Ebony

    June 22, 2018 at 4:09 PM

    I loved this !!!!!

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