Sapphic Voices General Fiction

Coco Butter And Ultra Sheen

by Alti Savage
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Copyright © by Alti Savage, November 2009

Coco butter and ultra sheen, that’s what she smelled like. An ice cold glass of kool-aid on a hot summer day. Her skin was a dark mahogany, polished and finished. Her hair an off-black bushel of gleaming wool, perfectly rounded into the style of a rather large afro. I remember watching her as she tightened the orange scarf tied around her head like a headband, the length of the fabric leading down to the smooth dark skin of her exposed back. Amazing.

I was sitting out on the porch of my first floor, apartment complex enjoying what was left of the summer. In Willoughby Hills, Ohio a drop of golden sun was a blessing when it was out. Within close proximity to the Cleveland area, the weather was as bipolar as a schizophrenic woman on her menses. One day could be rain and the next, snow followed by a warm streak of sunshine. And I just wanted to enjoy the warmth while it lasted.

Never had I seen a woman so naturally beautiful. So inherently radiant. The soft contours of her face akin to that of a beautiful African queen, her nose slightly narrow yet slightly flat against the structure. Her lips were plump, the kind that any man would dream of kissing, touching and feeling travel down his body among other perverted thoughts. But I am not a man.

She was turned toward the window above and just beside mine, her eyes narrowed as if concentrating or seeking a particular someone. Her light orange top clung to her healthy bust in the front, held up against her body only by the two strings tied in a bow behind her neck. I barely noticed the matching dangling earrings until she tilted her head faintly to the left causing them to reflect sunlight my way. I smiled to myself, admiring her essence. Then she looked my way.

“Excuse me, you live here?”

I was caught off guard and didn’t know what to say.

“I-I uh well-”

I had a frog in my throat. Embarrassed, I cleared it before attempting to speak again.

“It’s a simple enough question isn’t it? I mean either you do or you don’t.”

My heart took a major leap into my throat when she made the remark…then she smiled. Perhaps I looked as nervous as I felt.

“I’m Dana by the way.”

Dana. So simple. Not something I was used to hearing. Coming closer, she offered her hand. Now surprised by the gesture, I stood and moved in closer to take it. The sweet waft of coco butter made my mouth water.

“I’m Reagan.”

She nodded and glanced back at the window.

“So you live here or not?” she asked.

I nodded, noticing the slight sheen of perspiration on her skin.

“Right here in apartment 5. I’ve been here for almost a year now.”

She turned back to me.

“So you know Tavon then?”

Tavon, I thought as my heart sank, it figures a girl like her would be taken. By a guy.

“Tavon? No, I don’t really know anybody here,” I admitted, “I kind of keep to myself.”

There was always less mess that way. She nodded her understanding and rested a hand on her ample hip.

“Damn.”

I didn’t sit back down. She bit her lip, turning back to the window again.'

“Do you need to get in?” I asked.

The promise of restricted access was one of the main reasons I’d chosen this property to begin with. Only those with the key pass could enter i.e. residents and postal workers. Immediately Dana’ s brown eyes lit up as she faced me once more.

“Could you?”

Pleased to see that I could be of service, I turned around toward the door. Pulling my key pass from my pocket I felt a swelling of pride coming forth. That I could help her in anyway had already made my day.

“You can’t tell anyone I let you in though,” I warned her.

“Not even Tavon. I could get in a lot of trouble. They restrict this place for a reason.”

I could feel her just behind me as I swiped my pass. When I opened the door, I allowed her inside first. As she flew through the door I couldn’t help but to steal a peek of her round backside. With every step she took there was a rhythm that rocked it ever so hypnotically. Poured into the white jean cut-offs that reached an inch or two below her cheeks, her shape was incredible. Her thighs were thick and smooth, athletic. I swallowed as again she turned to face me.

“Good lookin’ out,” she thanked me and hurried up the stairs and out of my sight.

I didn’t move back to my seat right away. Instead I stood at the doorway, savoring the last mental impression of her. That Tavon was one lucky son of a gun; I knew that much right then and there. I only hoped that he knew it too.

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