If my life were the Wu Tang Clan
I would be Method Man
Cook would be Raekwon
Jared would be Rza
Jerome would be Gza
Nick would be Ghostface Killah
B Rick would be Ol Dirty Bastard
Cherry would be Inspectah Deck
Jerrodo would be U-God
Lee would be Cappadonna
Leonard would be Redman (My partner even though he’s not in the Group)
O.Shane would be Michael Franks
Brandon and Evlondo would be Outkast
Chip and Byron would be Blackstar
Amd Saia would be Mary J Blige
One of the things I’m most proud of about myself is how far I’ve come socially. Before Saia was born I was absolutely reclusive. Then I started to come out of my shell after I got a live in friend. But I was still pretty shy between third grade and sophomore year in high school. So when me and “Deja Poppina” re-aquainted as adults she was hardly prepared for me. And neither me for her. If there were a Homecoming, or prom queen for elementary schools Deja would have been both every year from 4th grade up. She was the most popular and very easily the prettiest girl at Jean Gordon in our years there. Only the coolest guys could make her their girlfriend. Me being just on the outskirt of the cool pack had to settle for living vicariously through their stories at the slumber parties.
By the time I got to high school I began to make my move to the elite stature of being “citywide shive” but I was still not ready for any daunting tasks the likes of a Deja. As if she wasn’t already so far beyond my league then she went and got breasts the size of grapefruits. When I saw her at her sweet sixteen I was astounded she even remembered who I was. But nonetheless delighted basking, hugging in between those sweet titties.
So now the year is 2000 it’s a new millenium and my game is not to be played with. I find myself in House of Blues on what is the now defunct SIN night which at that time was on a Monday. And the melodious sounds of Q-Tip drift in and out of my ears. I let the vibe take over me and the words to electric relaxation start spewing out of my mouth as if I was the 5th member of Tribe called quest. So far into the groove I didn’t even have the chance to stop crooning when my eyes locked in very intently into a young lady’s eyes across the room. She had a drink in her left hand and a man in her right but her gaze, although drunken, was so intense I couldn’t move my eyes from hers and my lips were on autopilot which gave the impression I was singing to her. As she started to move towards me it was too late to stop singing, so I actually began singing to her from a distance and then after a matter of seconds right in her very face. She moved her cheek close to mine and we started moving. Very sensually moving. I was brimming with confidence and wonder at this astounding fortune and well played scenario. I asked her what she was doing tonight preparing myself to ask to leave with her. That’s how it happens in the movies right? she said that her and her friends were about to leave. hmmm, she’s leaving with friends. On to plan B
“Well let me get your number.” she kisses me on the cheek. “I can’t baby. I’m leaving.”
me confused “I know. That’s what I’m sayin. Give me your number and I’ll call you since you’re leaving.” She kisses me on the other cheek.
“Oh, I can’t I’m leaving.” She kisses me on the forehead. “you’re so cute.” so your thinking why didn’t she give me the number. well that’s precisely what I was saying. But I didn’t want to ruin the momment for me by overpursuing so I just let it go. When I walk back to my friend Brandon Johnson (now Leblanc) he’s like “dude, what happened.” “I don’t know” is all I could come back with.
A week later, I’m at work which happened to be Domino’s at the time and it’s a monday night at aout 10 or so so things are pretty slow. The caller id reads a number with a French Quarter prefix so I already know the customer is out of my area before I answer. I give them the number to the appropriate domino’s. About five minutes later the same number appears this time a different voice answers. She explains to me that the other Domino’s isn’t answering their phone. One of my small joys working at Domino’s was delivering out of my area. I liked delivering pizzas a lot but travelling back and forth in the same region could get monotonous so it was nice to deviate every once in a while. For that reason, because it was so slow and because people in the French Quarter are usually pretty good tippers I told her I’d take the order. “what are you ordering?” “Pepperoni” She says. I had to ask first because I, being the entrepeneur I was happened to have some excess pizza for sale and if she wanted one of my discounted pies there would be no need to enter her delivery info into the computer. As it turns out I did not have any Pepperoni. “Name?”
“Deja.” pause for dramatic purposes…
“This is Gian.”
“Oh Hey! How are you?”
“blah blah blah, pleasentries etc.” Long story short she’s an old friend so I don’t even bother ringing up the pizza. I get to her house and ring and low and behold the dancing drinking enchantress from the other night answers the door. I’m taken aback, she’s not sure where she recognizes me from and Deja’s in the back comiing to greet her childhood friend.
“You two live together?”
“Yeah you know Melanie?” Her name wasn’t Melanie I can’t even remember at this point what it was.
“Well Kind of. We met last week in House of Blues momentarily.” Bells ring in Melanies head and recognition shows through her eyes.
“Oh cool. Then you can come to her going away party this weekend.”
“Where are you GOing?”
“Peru for 6 months.” Ahh now I see. that’s why she couldn’t give me her number. She’s leaving the country. So I took their number and promised I’d call to come to their shindig over the weekend. ……so Anyway. I felt it my duty to impart upon all of my friends this encounter of mine seeing as we had all spent at least some part of some evening talking about how fine Deja is. Among those friends Brandon was still in town so when I told him of the party he was pretty animated about going although at this point I had lost interest in the idea. His master plan was that I could go talk to the girl and set the stage for her return while he would try to woo Deja. A plan which I was comfortable with all around except for the execution. But for whatever reason I decided to go anyway. When I got to the party I’m sure I didn’t see Melanie for the first hour I was there. However I did see and talk with Deja who was apparently an aspiring actress to compliment my aspiring screenwriting. I couldn’t tell if the comfortable vibe I was getting from her was due to our commonalities or some kind of romantic intrigue on her part. But I was sure that there was some underlying attraction there. So Sure that a couple of weeks later I actually decided to act on it. I called her under the guise of wanting to talk about my screenplay. And just as hoped it took it’s turn for something altogether different. From her inferences Deja did pretty much everything axcept ask me out. So I obliged and she accepted. And by the time I hung up the phone I hardly knew what happened. To this day I honestly can’t remember what we did on that first date. And I don’t know how we ended up on the next two either but I do know by our third date I was still a little unsure of her intentions with me. Deja had grown into somewhat of a free spirit so I wasn’t sure if she was just the type who really liked to hang out with different people or if she was into me. And I didn’t exactly know how to make a move on her to find out so one evening sitting in her living room I just decided to go for it. I moved in slowly in front of her. She didn’t flinch and when I leaned in to kiss her SHe accepted and requited. Good. Now that we got that out of the way let’s find out how far she’s willing to take this. So I move her back into her bedroom. And try to push her back on her bed. Meanwhile she’s whispering in my ear “take it slow.” I don’t know if this means take it slow right now or that I’m not getting any ass tonight but we were going to explore damnit. I go for the pants button and she wiggles away saying again “take it slow” only slightly discouraged but still not defeated I continue to work her over with my kisses and embrace. After about three more attempts at the pants they finally get unbuttoned and then are removed. So now I got her. I start going down on her. And she’s really into it. She’s making noises. every two minutes she’s telling me she’s about to cum. I swear she must have cum 7 times if she wasn’t lying. I’m really getting into it too. I’m not just using my tounge and face. I mean I’m getting my hips into it. I’m trying to sew this up. This is Deja Poppina we’re talking about here. The crowning achievement of my sexual career. After about 20 minutes of head work she tells me she’s ready. For just a moment my heart stops mid pump as if it’s generating strength so it can jump out of my chest. I’ve never been this excited in my life. All the girating has me a little worked up now and her moans and apparent orgasms have overwhelmed my senses. So in the back of my mind I’m thinking “this isn’t going to take long.” But my other option is to tell Deja Poppina that I’m not going to have sex with her….Get the fuck outta here. So I strap up and prepare myself for all the Deja goodness. I align myself and prepare for the first stroke. Befoe I touch bottom all I can feel is a massive, soundless gush followed closely by embarassment and lamentations. Dear God please don’t tell me I only lasted one stroke with Deja Poppina. I layed on top of her motionless for about 5 minutes and without saying a word I roll over face down buried deep in a pillow and allow my shame to take me to sleep.
As prologue to this story it was surprisingly not the last time Deja allowed me to sleep with her. I don’t know what in God’s good name drew her back but I guess I must have proven myself at least a worthy cunniligist. Needless to say after the initial experience with Deja I took the necessary precautions and came back next time better prepared. (by better prepared I mean I had to jerk befoe I got there and then get a BJ from her first) And redeemed my shame.