What's in it for me?
Christopher Beckwith
The Excerpt

The traffic on the way home from work was heavier than normal.  Urged by my straining bladder and deflating gas gauge, I figured I should stop to relieve myself, fill up the tank and maybe pick up some beer to take home.  That way I could handle everything in one stop.

Spotting a gas station at the end of the block, I speedily crossed two lanes and swerved onto the lot pulling up to the first available pump.  I jumped out of my car, raced through the door and made a beeline for the men's restroom. 

When I walked in, I noticed a tall caramel-complexioned brotha with a bald head as smooth as a baby's bottom standing at the urinal.  He was sexy as hell; built like a basketball superstar with legs that raised damn near chest high. 

I walked up to the urinal and pulled out my impatient partner to handle my business.  I wanted to look over to catch a glimpse of this brotha's meat but I just continued to look forward at the wall with a blank stare. 

That's when I heard him ask, "Sup man?"

I glanced over and nodded without a word.  I tried to look away but my eyes were drawn closer when I noticed him stroking his hardness.

Then he asked, "Like that, huh?"

All I could say was, "Hell to da yeah!"

Suddenly, he reached over and grabbed my ass in the palm of his hand.

"Let's go somewhere and do this thang right!" he said.

My quivering voice uttered a simple, "Sounds good to me man."

He was having a little trouble trying to stuff his hard pole back into his pants but with a twist of his left leg, he managed to get it all back inside.

"I'll be outside," he said then zipped up and left me standing there.

I was shaking I could hardly maintain my balance.  I took a deep breath then zipped up and walked out of the restroom without giving a thought to washing my hands.

Through the large windows, I noticed him standing out front so I stopped at the cooler to grab a six pack and walked toward the cash register.  I was instantly greeted by the cashier as she started to ring up the beer.  Strangely, I noticed how much the cash register sounded like my alarm clock.  Damn, it was my alarm clock!

I reluctantly accepted the reality that it was morning already thinking I just needed to lie here a little longer.  Laughing about my dream I thought, 'Something like that would never happen to me, not Ronald Davis.  That could only happen in my dreams.'

It seemed more like something that would happen to my friend Randy.  He's one of those people who is way out there and just doesn't give a damn!  Like it or not, appearances just don't matter to him.  Randy had told me more stories than I can count about his random encounters: everything from seducing his college Professors to giving in to the lustful desires of truck drivers at rest areas.  That dude has done it all!

He once told me that one of the coaches at his high school approached him about joining the football team because of his size.  He quickly informed the coach that he would rather try out for cheerleader and that his ability to do a split was proof he had the skills.

Randy is a big guy, thick and solid with marginal looks; definitely no head-turner.  But what he lacks in beauty, he more than makes up with wit.

I've known Randy a little over five years but it seems like we've been friends forever.  We met while I was at the Lenox Square Macy's cologne counter trying the testers.  I overheard a frustrated Randy reduce the overly arrogant clerk to tears by telling her that he couldn't tell where her big lips ended and her tine ears began.  It was at that moment I knew we would be friends forever.

I realized how good my bed felt as I laid there buried in the covers.  Engulfed in warmth, I could feel my morning wood begging for attention.  I raised the covers to see my little buddy jump with anticipation at the possibility of a morning rub down. 

Staring down at my groin I said, "Sorry lil' man but it's time for work."

I moved to the edge of the bed stopping for a moment trying to rationalize spending a few more minutes in my cocoon.  I decided against it thinking that I had wasted enough time so I forced myself off of the bed and walked toward the bathroom.

I looked into the foggy mirror as the shower heated up and thought, 'Nothing wakes you up like a good shower, right?'  Hell, what I needed was a cold shower after that frustrating dream.  Fortunately for my irritable morning skin, the water was already hot.

Once I was in the shower, I realized that I really love my job.  Getting up in the morning is the only problem.  To be honest, I have a great job as Senior Design Consultant at Brandon Properties.

When I enrolled at Hampton University, I chose Business Administration as a major since I really didn't know what I wanted to do after college.  It just sounded like a safe route to take at the time.

And then there was Professor Phillips.

Professor Michael Phillips taught in the Architectural department.  He was tall, about 6'4", with a smooth chocolate complexion, a well-toned body and a smile that you could see coming from across campus.  It goes without saying that he was one of the finest Black men I'd ever laid eyes on.

Out of curiosity, I decided to take the Introduction to Drafting course under Professor Phillips.  I thought it might be interesting and to be honest, I would do anything to sit in class every day and look at that Adonis.

After getting an 'A' in the class, I figured what the hell so I enrolled in an intermediate drafting course and then a course in space planning breezing through both with 'A's.  By that time, I decided to change my major since I was really starting to enjoy Architecture.

Six months before graduation, I was offered an internship at Brandon Properties; a residential builder in Atlanta that was starting to build homes in other cities as well.  After graduating with a BA in Architecture, I started my internship and within three months was offered a permanent position.

After getting dressed, I stopped by the kitchen for a glass of orange juice before starting my journey to work.  At least the weather was better than the thunderstorms that plagued Atlanta yesterday.  I just hoped my car would be as cooperative as the weather.

I'd been driving the same Nissan Altima since college.  My parents gave it to me so I would have reliable transportation back and forth between Winston-Salem and Hampton.  Since I'm an only child, I guess they figured they could splurge on the car to make my stay in Virginia a little easier.  I've considered getting a nicer car but I cringe at the thought of paying a car note every month.

The traffic was lighter than usual but I was still in no hurry to get to work.  Driving by Krispy Kreme, I couldn't resist the 'Hot Donuts Now' sign to I turned in for a sticky treat.

When I entered the store, I was greeted by the cheer smile of Miss Ella.  She's a middle-aged pear shaped woman with eyes as bright as shiny new dimes, plump jaws and an ass the size of an SUV.

"Good morning Ronnie!" Miss Ella chirped.

She was the only person other then my mother that called me Ronnie.  It always made me feel good hearing her sweet voice first thing in the morning and she usually came across as if she felt the same way.

"Good morning Miss Ella," I sang back with a smile in my voice.

As I stepped closer, she asked how I was feeling.

"Oh, I'm making it," I said.  "And how are you?"

With a rub of her belly she replied, "I'm doing the best I can with what I got!  What can I get for you sweetie?"

I thought about my co-workers just as I was about to order three glazed donuts.  I knew they would go off if I didn't bring extras so I ordered two dozen instead.

"Okay Ronnie, I got you covered," Miss Ella said as she waddled back to the conveyor belt to get donuts fresh from the oven.

She placed the boxes on the counter and said, "There you go Ronnie."

I handed Miss Ella a twenty dollar bill and thanked her for always making my mornings so pleasant.

She gave me a wink and said, "Anything for my Ronnie."

I returned the wink, took my change and headed out to my car.