tagRomanceMaking It Work

Making It Work


Hello, the name is Ananda, but my homies call me Ana. Just kidding, I speak slang, but my vocabulary is not limited by it. Anyway, let's get to the main subject: ME! [wink]

I'm what you would call a professional dater. In other words, I'm not too keen on settling down. I don't really think that I ever will...maybe, there's someone, but it's complicated. I'll explain it...eventually.

Since it is complicated, I just kinda date. That and the fact that my parents are rushing me to settle down when I don't really want to. They want grandbabies and I don't feel like delivering. Come on ladies, I know that everyone thinks that we're always hot and horny, ready to pop kids out the oven after marrying our Prince Charming, but this chick isn't ready for all that—and I probably never will be...again, I don't know.

So, in order to appease my parents, I go on these random blind dates that they arrange for me. Actually, sometimes they find the guy or the guy finds me, anyway you look at it, it keeps them happy. And happy parents make Ana happy as well.

Thus, here I am on a Friday night after a long day of work getting ready to meet some man that I probably won't get along with. I mean, I don't go out with a closed mind and preconceived notions, I actually give these guys a chance, but they all seem to be missing some sort of umph. Ladies, you know what I mean. If there is no umph, we just don't feel it.

I hop out of the shower, wrap my robe about me and start searching through my closet. Now, when picking a dress for a blind date, it's important to show off a little of one's assets, but not enough to make him think that he'll be a lucky bastard by the end of the night. Besides, I can't be too much of a tease, I need to get waxed. I have an appointment tomorrow, which is when this date was really scheduled, but something came up and Mystery Guy had to reschedule. I was pissed until I heard his voice—nice and deep, just like I like it.

"Why are you walking about in a robe?"

Oh Lord, let me introduce you to this guy. His name is David Romero and he's my best friend. Also, remember when I told you that things were complicated? Well, it's because of him. I'll be honest and tell you all right now that I love this man, but we can bring out the worst in each other at times. We dated, sex and all, and I found out that I can be jealous and him possessive. We couldn't stand it, arguing all of the time that is. The funny thing is that with our other relationships, we're not at all as psychotic like when we were together.

I've known David since the sixth grade when he first moved from California to South Carolina. We've been stuck together ever since. Same middle school, same high school, even the same damn college. Go Gamecocks! Even after all of that, you'd think that we would get tired of seeing each other's faces, but we're not. We love each other and in spite of the fact that our relationship ended, our friendship never did.

"I'm going on a date tonight. What are you doing here?"

"What am I doing here? Have you forgotten what today is?"

Is this a trick question because I so don't know the answer?

"It's our movie night, damn it, Ana. I can't believe you forgot and you're dropping me for some dick wad you haven't even met yet!"

"Shouldn't you be out with the fellas or something? Go make yourself disappear."

"We're going to the strip club later tonight."

"That's disgusting. Who would want to pay to see sweaty ass?"

"Sweaty ass, sweaty pussy, sweaty tits—"


"Ass and titties, ass and titties, ass and titties, and big booty bitches!"

"Please, David, 3 6 Mafia has been played out since the nineties."

Not that I wasn't a fan of "3 6" when I was younger, I just grew out of it when I started to realize that they weren't really promoting wholesome messages to us young, impressionable youths. I mean seriously, who would advise someone to get a tricked out car even though you can't pay your rent? And if you don't believe me, just replay "Chicken Head" on Youtube a few times until you do.

"Anyway, who is it this time?"

"Why is that any of your business?"

"It just is."

I roll my eyes. See what I'm talking about? I have the strongest urge to throw something at his head.

"If you must know, I met him at the gym and he asked me out."

"Our gym?"


David owns his own fitness chain and he makes great money from it. Since it's free for me, I take advantage of all of his services. That's just one of the perks of having a best friend who is a fitness nut.

"Don't look at me like that David. It's not like he cornered me in the weight room like someone I know."

He's remembering what happened the last time we had sex, almost three months ago. First we were arguing about something very trivial, then the next thing I know he has me doggy style, with my ass up in the air and his cock working my pussy over, on the hamstring machine. If it wasn't already his establishment, we both would have gotten our membership revoked and the cops would have been charging us with indecent exposure.

"I didn't corner you. Your mouth wrote a check that your ass couldn't cash. I had to make you pay."

"Whatever, will you get out of my room please so that I can get dressed?"

I can't believe this bullshit, oh, David here—

Wait, are you commandeering my narration?

Hell yeah, I am. This story isn't only about you.

David, I'll kick your ass.

Shut up and get dressed. Anyway, this is David and it's my turn. As you can see, Ana is working my damn last nerves. If I didn't love her, I would probably be in jail for murder because sometimes she knows what buttons to push.

Why don't you say that to my face?

Ana, will you get the hell out of here? Did I cut into your narration when you were telling everybody about needing to get a wax?

Just how long were you listening to my private conversation?

Long enough. Now, keep your ass in your room and get dressed.

Who the hell do you think you're talking to like that?

Last time I checked, it was you.

Oh no, this little white boy didn't come up in my house disrespecting me?

Half white. You know damn well that I'm part Filipino. Are we seriously arguing in the narrations?

Oh no, he didn't. I'll kick your little ass if you don't straighten up!

Really, Ananda, you'll kick my ass? Don't let me come in there and toss your little ass around on that bed.

.... [silence]

I thought so. Man, I swear sometimes she makes me want to throw her over my knee and spank the hell out of her ass. If it wasn't for that ass, I probably wouldn't have spoken to her in the first place, but what do you expect when you meet someone with their ass up in the air?

I did not have my ass up in the air, I dropped my pencil and I was looking for it!

Shut up, Ananda! Say one more word!

One more word!

[laughter] That was damn cute. As you can see, we have chemistry. Matter of fact, we first met in Chemistry class. We were assigned as lab partners and ended up setting our Bunsen Burner on fire, almost burning up the lab....good times...[sigh].

And despite what Ana says, it was because of that ass why I started talking to her. Look at her, getting dressed with the door cracked like I can't see her. If she doesn't close it, I might be tempted to go in.

Yeah, I love her, but we can't help the fact that we drive each other crazy. I mean look at her, the perfect size eight, full hips, thick toned thighs and sleek legs, a smooth, flat stomach, nice rounded breasts. C-cups. Not too big, yet not too small. I can suck them all day.

Slender shoulders, a heart shaped face with thick pink lips, a button nose, and perfectly arched eyebrows. Not to mention her big brown eyes and that sexy dark chocolate skin complexion, and her shoulder length hair—how I love tugging on it. And did I mention that she's smart as hell? She's the youngest accountant at her firm and has been steadily making a name for herself.

Ana is beautiful, too damn beautiful and sassy for her own good. I think she knows exactly what she's doing to me right now, rolling her stockings up nice and slow like that. She's fucking with me.

No, I'm not.

If you interrupt my private thoughts one more time, I swear...

You shouldn't be swearing in the first place and what do I tell you about that damn mouth of yours? You cuss like a drunken sailor sometimes. Calm it down.

Yes, Mother, I'll be sure to do that.

Don't you start mocking Martha, god rest her soul.

Alright, alright, just get the hell out of my thoughts. Please! [silence] My mother passed about a year and a half ago. I miss her. We were really close. My dad likes to say that I resemble her.

You do.

I don't know. Anyway, on to another topic.

Yeah, far be it from you to actually open up about your vulnerabilities.

Damn it, Ana! This is the last warning.

"If you would just leave, you wouldn't have to worry about me interrupting you all the time."

Anyway, here's a little about me, I can seem crazy, but don't worry, I'm not. I just take after my father. Being Asian, and I'm talking about from the Asian motherland not a second generation migrant, he tends to...well...be very Asian; which means that he speaks his mind whether it offends you or not, but he is also very respectful, you know, respect your elders and such. He'll eat anything that looks edible. And when he's upset, he'll start to tell you off in Tagalog. So now that you know my father, you know me because I do the same shit. [big smile]

If by chance, I offend any of you with my demeanor...I don't really care, but I guess I should clarify something. For individuals who don't really know me, they tend to assume that I'm acting black. How the heck do you act black? And if there's a way to act black, should I act Asian or white instead? I'm just being me. Besides, I have a multicultural family. There are all colors of the rainbow in my family, which means that I have black cousins, white cousins, Latin cousins, a shit load of Asian cousins and one Indian cousin. My aunt, on my mother's side, just had a baby with a great Indian man, Taji. He teaches us how to speak Punjabi and loves to show us how to make authentic Indian food.

So there you go. That's me.

You forgot to tell them that you're one quarter asshole too.

"What did I just tell you?"

"Don't barge into my room as if this is your place. But since you want to start something, let me hand that ass over to you."

"Talking all that shit again. I'm tired of your mouth."

"I'm tired of your shit. If you don't get the hell out—"

[Lots of fumbling]

"Oh shit, David."

"That's right, Ananda, whose pussy is this? Hmm?"

"Yours, baby, yours. Oh damn it, I'm gonna come."

"You gonna behave yourself the next time?"

"Yes, please don't stop."


"You feel so tight, baby. Want me to come with you?"

"Yes. Yes!"

[Groans, grunts, whimpers]

"Please, David, faster."

"Like that?"

"Yes, yes, David, DAVID!!!"



[Heavy breathing]


"Don't fall asleep, you have your date, remember?"

"Crap. Now I have to get right back in the shower. You did this on purpose so that I'd be late, didn't you?"

"I did no such thing. You know that every time we argue we fuck. Ow!"

"Watch your mouth!"

"Okay, stop hitting me like that or your ass won't be going on that damn date by the time I'm finished with you."

[Silence] "You always try to bully me. Get out so that I can get ready."

"Fine. Just call me when you get back so that I know nothing happened to you."

I love these moments we have after a steamy sex session. He searches my soul with his light brown eyes and it's as if there are words on the tip of our tongues willing to spill forth yet they're too shy to make their presence known. I love when he leans in and kisses me tenderly like he's doing right now. I know that he hates the idea of me seeing other guys, but we decided three years ago that it was the best for us to separate. I'm rushing out of the bed and back into the shower because of him and his damn frisky ways.

David and I go through periods where we will screw like crazy then we won't touch each other as if we're afraid even the most minute of skin to skin contact will transfer some sort of STD. And we don't have any, even though I rarely sleep with the men I go on dates with, I always use a condom. Besides, David is an avid believer in safe sex. And we were both recently tested and came up negative.

I have to take a very quick shower so that I'll be at most five to ten minutes late. I might have to grovel a little to show that I'm really sorry, or I'll have to pull out the dress. You know, the one you wear for the date when you're finally giving it up. Every guy knows that dress and they highly appreciate it. This guy is definitely not getting any, but to make up for my impending tardiness, I'll let his eyes have a nice show.

David is gone. I heard the door lock. Yeah, he has a key that he's only supposed to use for emergencies, but I do the same thing at his place—coming and going as I please—so I shouldn't complain. [Heavy sigh] I definitely have to bring my A-game now that David just screwed my brains out. My pussy is delightfully swollen and still pulsing from that mind blowing orgasm that he gave me.

I hate that man so much sometimes, but my treacherous heart won't kick him out. It's as if he's a tenant who refuses to move out even though he doesn't pay rent. Like I said, we called it quits three years ago. We dated all throughout college and things were very serious between us, but we just couldn't deal with our jealous and possessive natures. It was becoming somewhat destructive for us and we were both fearful that our friendship would suffer. That and another complication that arose.

[Another heavy sigh] The truth is, our craziness wasn't the only reason we went Split's Ville. I think—no, I know that it also has to do with the miscarriage. We were only twenty-two at the time, although we were serious about each other, we weren't ready for a baby; however when I realized that I was pregnant, we got our asses in gear. He started working even harder to get his personal training certification and I job hunted and worked hard until I found my dream job. We were months away from moving into our own place and making things officially official when I had the miscarriage. We were so devastated and overwhelmed by it all that we never truly talked about it. I think the both of us couldn't handle it at the time. Hell, I don't even know if we could handle it now.

One minute we're picking out baby names and playing music so that the baby can hear it and the next we had to return the crib and the baby carriage. I think what hurt the most is that I was two days away from completing my first trimester. We had hoped to wait until the birth to find out the sex of the baby, but we had decided with my next ultrasound I would ask the doctor.

I had nightmares about what the baby was, whether a girl or a boy. If it was a girl, sometimes I would dream that she looked just like me when I was younger. And if it was a boy, I saw David's slanted, light eyes, his crooked smile, his pointy ears, and full pink lips. I would dream about what our son would look like when he was older, whether or not he would match his father's muscular 6'1" height or would he be taller. Or I would wonder if our daughter would have my attitude and sarcasm, but would be one hell of a daddy's girl. I suffered many sleepless nights.

That had to be one of the most painful experiences of our lives. We cried a lot. We argued horribly. He actually hated each other and there was a six month period where we refused to even be around one another. I don't even remember how we began talking again. I think my cousin set it up...or was it our parents? I don't recall anymore. But I do know that it still hurts.

I don't have time for this. I should be getting out of here. I just need to throw on my fuck me pumps and I'll be ready. So I'm showing off a little too much cleavage and maybe the dress is hugging my ass a bit too tightly. My date will definitely appreciate my efforts and that's all I'm asking for.

I'm at the restaurant and I was only five minutes late, thank God. I sped like a bat out of hell and somehow successfully avoided any run-ins with the police. So, his name is Murphy and he's funny. Aside from the fact that he can't keep his eyes away from my cleavage, he's a good guy. I decided to wear a strapless ivory dress, with faux pearls, which is quite risky since my breasts have a mind of their own. The dress is decent enough to hide my nipples, but it doesn't leave much to the imagination—in a classy way that is.

"You just told me that you're a head accountant. Wow, when I was twenty-five, I was still working my way up."

[Flirty smiles]

"How old are you, Murphy, if you don't mind my asking?"

One misconception that men tend to have about women, especially on a date, is that we talk a lot in particularly about ourselves. I don't. I share, but I don't like being the center of attention—at least not all of the time. And sometimes, I just don't want people all up in my business. I try to maintain a fifty-fifty balance in everything. He asks questions to learn about me, I do the same to learn about him. He flirts with me, I flirt with him. I give back what I'm receiving, but it doesn't necessarily mean that I'm interested.

For instance, Murphy is good looking, he's stylish, I haven't seen a man pull off a gray three piece gray suit with a hat without looking like a pimp, yet Murphy does it flawlessly. The suit hugs every sinew of his body and just like my dress leaves nothing to the imagination, neither does his outfit. His slacks cling nicely to his muscular thighs, I can get a semblance of his package and the brutha seems hung, but remember when I talked about the umph? I don't feel it.

He's funny, charming, has great brown eyes and amazing bone structure. He's smart and actually talks about the stock market with me, something that David would rather die than participate in, maybe because we end up fighting about which stocks are the best to invest in, but then again David and I are capable of arguing about how many jelly beans are in the guessing jar at the county fair and not talk to each other for ten minutes if either one of us are proven wrong.

Back to Murphy, he is giving me the vibe that he's interested, yet I feel as if our conversation has been superficial. We've gotten slightly personal, you know, what are you looking for in a lover, are you ready to settle down, blah, blah, blah. But it's all so mundane! I'm ready to go. I have given him my full attention, as promised, for the past three and a half hours. I should commend myself especially since my pussy is still humming for David. I was on my best behavior and at times I can be outspoken. Some guys don't like that.

"So, Ananda, I had such a great time tonight and I was wondering if it would be too forward of me to ask for a second date?"


"Well, that depends." [Cute smile and hair flip] "I sort of have a lot on my plate work wise and it would be so unfair to you if I was to agree ahead of time knowing that I'm not completely available."


Damn, he looks so disappointed.

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