Author Spotlight: Gloria J. Wilkerson


By: Gloria J.Wilkerson


It was well after 2 in the morning.

She was getting hot, and the contact high she was catching had her head spinning. Before she knew it, she was making her way to the front door, desperately needing some fresh air. The music blared into the hall as she opened the door and stepped out into the chilly atmosphere of the building's hallway.

The five-inch platform heels sat comfortably on her feet as she leaned on the door with her back and inhaled, appreciating the fresh air that filled her lungs.

She couldn’t help it as her eyes wondered lazily to the door adjacent from her. She wondered what he was doing at this time.

Knock on his door.

She felt the words come from her heart, and before she knew it, she pushed herself off the door and started a slow strut to his.


Don’t knock on that man’s door! You know what you’re asking for!

Her mind screamed at her, but she continued. She came face to face with the door, as the numbers 506 stared back at her. She hesitated.

Just knock and get it over with. What’s the worst that could happen?

Her heart thumped out of her chest as she knocked, exhaling the breath she didn’t even know she was holding. She waited, with baited breath as she shifted from side to side.

She was scared as fuck.

She waited a few more seconds before turning from the door and making her way back across the hall. The soft click of her heels drowned out the turning of his locks as she faintly heard her name being called from behind her.


His voice was like magic, as she turned around again, finding a half-dressed Darien standing at the door with a puzzled look. She looked at his chest and her eyes traveled down to his stomach and back up again. Her smile found its way to her face, as did her voice. “Hi,” she simply said.

His face softened at her expression and he felt an unfamiliar tug in his chest; The second time it has ever happened around this girl. “Hi,” he replied back. He watched her as she walked back over to him, her hips swayed as the clicking of the heels slowed down in front of him. “Sup girl?”

She was giddy. She had his undivided attention and didn’t know what to do with it all. She boldly stared up at him, and smiled again. “Up for some company?”

He stared at her momentarily before opening his door wider, watching her hips sway again as she walked inside. He looked at her from the back, and closed his eyes from the thoughts that entered his mind. He prayed a silent prayer to the Heavens. “So what do I owe the pleasure?” His question went unanswered as she walked further into the apartment, heels clicking along his hardwood floor.


He watched her as she looked around his place, her face in wonderment. “Aye, this is like, the complete opposite of Shan’s place,” she said peeking down the halls to the bedrooms. “I never been on this side of the building before.”

“I can give you a tour if you want,” he smiled innocently but she wasn’t buying it.

“Hell nah. I heard some shit about you and the girls you bring up in here,” she said laughing. She crossed her arms in front of her and raised her eyebrow.

“Your friend has the biggest mouth in Brooklyn, no lie,” he cackled and Fallon couldn’t help but join him.

“Stop, she’s not that bad,” she said, waving her hand at him. She knew she looked a mess, as she slowly felt her alcohol high start to diminish. She ran her hand down the side of her jeans, willing herself to continue the conversation. “Just protecting the people she love.”

“Damn, she must not like me then. Thought we were cool as fuck,” he stated. “Everyone warning you about me, but ain’t nobody warning me about you.”

“Because ain’t nothing to warn you about,” she fired back. “I’m the good girl! The purest you’ve ever met.” She meant every word. She shook her head and a loose curl got stuck on her eyelash.

He hurried to remove it for her, wanting a reason to share her space. She was almost eye level with her shoes on and he took advantage of it, staring deep into her light brown orbs. “Yeah, the teasing ass good girl.” Fallon’s face was shocked for two seconds, before it relaxed again. His mouth twitched into a half smile. “Yeah, busted now girl.”

She noticed his slight lisp when he said busted.

“Oh my goodness,” she squealed. “How fucking cute is that? Say busted again for me.” He was caught up in her smile, trying his hardest not to grab her face and take her dark colored lips to his.

“There you go making fun of me again,” he sucked his teeth, but he was smiling. “Sitcho drunk ass down somewhere,” he walked around her to the kitchen and pulled open the fridge, grabbing two bottles of water. “Here.”

She walked over and grabbed the water, mumbling a thank you before opening and drinking it down. She knew the hangover would be here soon, the dry mouth was starting.

“Happy Birthday,” he called out to her, as she leaned down on the countertop, relieving the pressure that was starting to build up in her shoes. He noticed, and he chuckled. “Just take them off, damn. Killing yourself to look pretty.”


“I thought you forgot. Thank you," she said smiling, standing again. Her voice changed, getting defensive as she answered his next statement, "And no, I’m good. And my shoes aren't to look pretty, it’s to enhance my pretty. Get it right negro. I wear heels higher than this every day for class. I’m good.”

Darien threw his hands up and twisted his mouth. “I’m just saying. Ya’ll girls kill me with them damn shoes. Yeah, they make you look sexy as fuck, but when them shits start hurting, something gotta give.” He pulled out a bar stool and motioned for her to sit on it.

She obliged, but only because the heat between her legs was growing as he talked. She half-listened to him rant, checking him out discretely as he moved around the kitchen. She didn’t realize she was biting her bottom lip until she looked up into his face and saw him watching her, knowingly. “Shit,” was all she said before she started giggling at being caught. Sober Fallon would have ran out of here already.

She was ecstatic Sober Fallon was gone for the moment.

“Yeah,” he said, amusement on his face. “I feel the same way,” he watched as she crossed her left ankle over her right and swung her feet back and forth. With each swing, her thighs were constricting against the thin fabric of her jeans and that shit was turning him on. He couldn’t help himself as he leaned over and grabbed both of her thighs in his palms and gave a squeeze. She immediately stopped swinging her legs, and let out a shaky breath.

“What are y–“, her thought was cut short by his sudden urge to speak.

“I feel the same way,” he repeated, slowly this time. He massaged the upper part of her thighs and she fought hard to fight off a moan.

What was he doing to her? She’d never felt this way before. The more she fought, the more her body reacted. She felt betrayed. She watched his lips, as he licked them and left them slightly ajar. He let out a shaky breath and she felt it, down to her toes. His eyes were low and hazy, a reflection of her own.

Careful not to put all of his weight on her, he leaned in and whispered in her ear, “One day.” He pulled back and watched her face. She was confused by his comment. He reluctantly let her go after one last squeeze, and lifted himself back up. He glanced at the clock on his microwave and said a swift curse to his shift manager in his head. He most definitely wasn’t going in today after seeing it was almost 3 in the morning.

He took a swig of his water, careful of the next set of words that came out of his mouth.

“Let me take you out,” he started. He took another swig and raised his right eyebrow, a little nervous to hear her answer. “For your birthday. My treat.”

Fallon sat there, blushing.

Brittney BakerComment