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The After Party

by Timothy Kincaid 2 months ago in athletics · updated 2 months ago

21-Year-Old Cougar

The After Party
Photo by Obi Onyeador on Unsplash

My coming out party a success; it’s now time for the After Party. Carp secures the keys to his mom’s car, and we are going to the Connection. It’s a predominantly black club in nearby Polk County. Usually the age requirement is 18 to enter and 21 to drink. However, when you live up to the Great Expectations and drop 28 points in front of a capacity crowd against your cross-town rivals, exceptions are made. Also, it doesn’t hurt that the owner is the Uncle of your teammate Carp. This is a repeating theme at all the black clubs of STF and strategic Convenient Stores. They did not card me. I appeared to be a college kid, although I was only 15.

Carp and I walk into the Connection cooler than the other side of the pillow. All my Ledbetter teammates are in the house and we arrive just as the bartender is buying a round of drinks for the squad. He asks. What will you have, Kincaid? This is my first Rodeo, so I think for a second… I felt the pressure as though the entire bar was waiting for my answer. I’ll have a scotch on the rocks. I know right. I didn’t know what it meant, but I saw the leading man order one in an old movie: Casablanca. In my 15-year-old mind, I thought it would taste like butterscotch candy; DP, my good buddy pipes in. Cascade, you better order a beer chaser, that Scotch is no joke. Carp doesn’t drink, so I get him to use his order for a Miller High Life. You know the beer on all the NFL commercials. 

The Scotch didn’t come in a cool half glass like the movie but a half filled dixie cup. I down the Scotch. It was the worst tasting drink I had ever put in my mouth. My facial expression must have told the story cause my teammates had a friendly laugh at my expense. Drink some of the beer. They yell. I twist off the cap and drink the entire bottle. Damn, homie, you’re supposed to drink some, not the entire bottle.  

I excuse myself from my mates and head towards the facilities. I hear a buzzing in my head as if a bumblebee is following me. I go straight to the sink and attempt to get that God awful taste out of my mouth. I splash water on my face and walk out. Ok I’m good. The dance floor is empty, so I take the shortcut thru then they turn the lights down and a slow song is playing; an alluring silhouette is coming straight towards me I can’t make out her face the light flashes and I see her pearly whites, which seem to be directed toward me I try to focus my eyes, then one of the strobe light illuminates her face. 

It’s my 20-year-old Cougar; I guess she’s a 21-year-old Cougar now since it’s been a little over a year since she moved out of the Apartments. We had a glorious summer together the year before I came to Central. Tonya walks directly into my personal space and takes my hand. Hey Kincaid, Good game tonight. Dance with me. She says. I follow her to the center of the empty dance floor. Normally, I would have been a bit apprehensive of slow dragging with no other patrons on the floor. However, the Scotch and beer chaser had erased all my inhibitions; slowly other patrons joined us. 

Have you missed me, Honey? She asks. Of course, sweetie. I reply. By the way, I love your earrings and you smell delicious. I continue. Tonya giggles. You know just what to say. We are grinding our bodies against each other. I take some of her hair and delicately place some behind her ear, then move my hand to caress the nape and whisper in her ear. You were a skilled teacher and gently licked her neck. Her eyes close and her mouth opens I placed my tongue so far down her throat I knew what she had for breakfast: Sugar Pops. 

Damn, honey, I think the student has surpassed the teacher. She whispers, baby, you already got my panties wet. The song ends and we walk to the bar area. Hey sweetie, I will call you soon. I say. Do you have a different number? I ask. Yes. She gets a pen from the bartender, writes her number on a napkin and kisses the other side, leaving a perfect lip mark. Bye Kincaid. She walks away, leaving me in an ass trance.

I snap out of the Cougar’s trance, find my mates and blend in. We are all listening to Whitehead tell a story when I feel a tug at my belt. I turn to see My Cougar. I’m bored and I’m not waiting for a call. Do you want to ride with me home? She asks. Yes mam, it would be my pleasure. One sec, let me find Carp so he will not wonder where I’ve gone. I find Carp dapping him up. Great game playa I say. I’m leaving with the Cougar. Oh hell. Aight then. Holla at your boy. Carp says. 

Before we go, let’s have a shot for the road. Tonya says. I’m gonna take advantage of you tonight. She continues. I chuckle and say anything but Scotch. I add. Honey, no! Scotch isn’t a shot, Tequila. Now that’s a shot. We post up at the bar. The barmaid pours the alcohol in two cute little glasses, places a small saucer between us with 2 limes and a salt shaker. Are we having dinner or taking a shot? I joke. My Chocolate Drop places her hand on my face, kisses my mouth and whispers. You’re gonna be my dinner later. Not here, not just yet. I’m temporarily hypnotized by her dreamy eyes.

Ok Kincaid, honey, pay attention. Do everything I do. We’re gonna lick, drink and suck. She says. Dang girl, are we drinking or having sex? I reply. Both. She adds nonchalantly. The Cougar licks the part of her hand between her index finger and thumb, sprinkles salt on it. I do the same. She licks the salt, drinks the shot and sucks the lime. It actually tastes better than Scotch. 

We are on the road to Small Town Friendly, heading to her new apartment in Rutherfordton. How are you feeling, honey? She asks. I don’t think I’ve ever felt better. I reply. We are listening to 97.9 an R&B station. Freddie Jackson serenades: I wanna rock with you for old times’ sake. I look over at my driver and she offers a sly smile. The Cougar exudes sexiness, those bedroom eyes, that luscious mouth. 

We made it to her apartment, it’s definitely an upgrade. Do you need something to drink? She asks. No mam. I reply. Let me freshen up for you. She gives me her tongue to taste as she walks towards her room. I can’t look away from the sway of her hips. My head is buzzing and I feel awesome. After several minutes, I hear. Baby, I’m hungry. She says in her sultry southern voice. 

I walk into the darkened room, only illuminated by a single candle on her dresser. My Chocolate Drop is wearing a yellow sleep shirt with black heels; her hair released from her customary pony tail and the shirt barely covers her private parts. Her back is to me she is eyeing me through the mirror atop the dresser the Cougar gives the come here finger; I walk up behind her and tower over her 5 foot 7 frame. I move her silky locks to expose her neck and ears, gently kissing the delicate body parts. Her eyes close and the Cougar purrs. I’ve missed your mouth, honey. She says. That night was like the Tequila shots at the bar. I licked, sucked and drank her up; she licked, sucked and drank me up until we both were staggering drunk from sex.

As a kid growing up, I received great presents from friends and family after a party. My Coming Out Party a success; the live walking with a sway in her hips and a sass from her lips. The licking, sucking Chocolate Drop, a present gifted from the Basketball Gods. This present only a Certified Bonafide 15-year-old Ledbetter Baller could fully appreciate.

athletics

Timothy Kincaid

A freelance writer who offers ghostwriting ebooks, FaceBook posts, article & blog writing services. He works with B2B & B2C companies providing digital marketing content designed to drive traffic, increase conversion and SEO.

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