OVULATION NIGHT
BY RANDY BOYD
Copyright © 2017 by Randy Boyd
An earlier version of this short story appeared in the 1998 anthology
Ma-Ka Diasporic Juks: Contemporary Writing by Queers of African Descent (Sister Vision Press)
First ePub edition: April 2017 v1.0
Randy Boyd’s books
Uprising
Bridge Across the Ocean
The Devil Inside
Walt Loves the Bearcat
Hostage (A Short Story)
Randy Boyd’s blog
randyboydsblocks.com
"Saw her in the hotel bookstore masturbating to a magazine," sang Bradley, dancing his way across the bedroom to Prince jamming about Darling Nikki on the boombox on the bed. As usual, he flubbed the lyrics, getting a laugh out of Duke, who was sitting atop the oak dresser at the foot of the bed. Egged on, Bradley danced some more, gyrating with the music, grabbing the pack of condoms on the nightstand, dancing his way over to the bed and the boombox … just in time to kill the music as a thought suddenly occurred to him.
Ironic,
he said, tossing the condoms aside as if they were useless. "For once in the 90s, I’ll actually be able to feel real, live sex against my throbbing black dick, or cock, as you white boys are fond of calling it."
"Well, don’t feel this real, live sex too much, said Duke, suddenly unamused by the sight of this lover packing an overnight bag.
This whole thing might spark up some deeply-hidden urge to become hetero. Or memory of sex with your babysitter when you were a kid, sex buried in your psyche until tonight—when you realize you liked it and now want more sex with more women. You could turn into one of those apes at the gym, sniffing around for every girl in the joint."
There’s only one scent I’m interested in and it belongs to you,
said Bradley, packing rather nonchalantly. Besides, I don’t think I had sex with my babysitter. Her fine ass sister on the other hand—
This is serious,
said Duke, feigning interest in the sun setting outside their bedroom window. "Yes, this is for—us—but you do realize: this is the first time
