It’s been three weeks since I returned from Florida. And as much as Jerome got on my nerves I am on the phone at this moment making plans with him. Not anywhere intimate. I don’t think he deserves such contact right now. His behavior in Florida was inappropriate; all of it, but given that it is so out of character for him I will allow another chance.
During these three weeks I have been dating Christopher and I have to say I have been enjoying him. It’s nice, easy and appropriate courting. I smile thinking about him, thinking about us walking through the Delmar Loop holding hands after lunch at Fitz’s, going to Twilight Tuesdays at the History Museum for the last three Tuesday’s, him cooking me dinner in his loft serving it to me under candle light.
As much fun as I am having I am not dumping anyone. Well not anyone that will matter, all dumping on my terms for my benefit. I have learned a lot about the male personality and I will need to see a little more of his hand. I haven’t forgotten our first date. On our second first date Chris explained the redhead, upon my request of course. He said she is a fellow doctor and that they were sometimes each other’s second hand in the operating room. He had met her husband at a fund raiser and the two hit it off, sometimes golfing together. That sounds reasonable, but we will see. I hope it’s before my heart gets involved.
“So I’ll see you later this week,” I say rushing Jerome off the phone. Today the good doctor is coming over to watch movies and cuddle. In the process I'm hoping he tries to make it to another base. I like the gentleman act but come on grab a thigh. I won’t rush him if not. Just that I haven’t had sex since Florida and we know how that ended. Dwayne is missing, outside of a few calls he has been distant. I have wondered if he is holding it against me because of the whole we cant have sex, going to Florida with a friend thing.
At seven sharp Chris is at my door looking extremely handsome with another one of those shirts that strain against him yet perfectly loose. He has brought with him the movies, Bud Light and Bud Light Lime-A-Rita’s. Leaning his thick frame down he kisses me sweetly before following me in the kitchen. I start to make popcorn and behind me Chris is pulling drinks out.
“Where are your glasses?”
“Cabinet above the counter,” I turn and point toward my right to an empty counter I use for chopping and mixing. He pours mine into a wine tumbler with ice. His into a Brewster glass, a house warming gift from a guy at the office. Nice gift not something I would have bought but the men like them. Maybe that was the guy’s point.
“This is a beautiful house,” he comments looking around, taking in the high ceilings and structure.
“Thanks.” A smile spreads across my lips. I'm really proud of this place. Both what I have done to it and what my grandparents did. Today I wonder what took me so long. Grieving and letting go of my grandparents was much easier after I moved here.
“Did you have anything to do with the décor or was an interior designer involved?”
“Actually this was my grandparents’ home. All of the flooring, wood fireplace and fixing are from them.” I give him the short version of my home. As well as a short tour. Tell him I had the upstairs redone for more space and my style, while keeping my grandparents close downstairs.
“Thanks. Popcorn ready. Want butter?”
I put the fixings on the popcorn and we head into the living room. The first movie on the stack is Man on a Ledge. I hadn’t seen it so this should be good. As I'm putting the movie in Chris asks, “Have you ever thought about selling this place?”
Tsk “No. Are you looking at this place, its beautiful?”
“Yes and more than likely worth a pretty penny.”
“I know exactly how much its worth. But outside of monetary value it has great sentimental value for me also, a family heirloom to leave to my children.”
“Just thought it would be a good investment for a paralegal…” And I don’t know if he meant it but I took that with a very condescending feel. He continues, “…investment for retirement, student loans or other debts.”
“I don’t have any debt…” My home is mortgage free, “…and contrary to popular belief paralegals make good money.”
Offended I let the conversation end as the movie begins. Grabbing the popcorn and snuggle up to Chris even though I didn’t like his comment his solid frame feels good up against me. I’m not sure if it’s the no sexual contact for three weeks or just the man next to me raising my temperature. Whichever it is it’s a huge welcome.
Both of us are silently watching the move which is more than thirty minutes in. Just as were holding our breath as Sam Worthington’s character feigns very convincingly to jump from the ledge, my doorbell rings.
“Expecting company,” Chris asks looking at me.
“No,” I answer while thinking who the hell this could be. I don’t like surprises. My phone hasn’t rung but my doorbell has. Going to answer the door I turn to see Chris still watching the movie like he didn’t have a care in the world. I open the door and take full responsibility for the situation.
I start to beat myself up mentally right away. Never should more than one man know where I live. Not only do you get put in this situation, they get lazy with dating or nice gifts that married men should provide. But also I should never have made it okay for the pop up visits early morning or late night, without calling. I give Dwayne a slight push back causing him to step down the steps. That move allowed me out of the door’s way of closing.
“What are you doing here?”
He looks a little taken back that I'm not letting him in, but recovers quickly.
“I hadn’t talked to you in a few days and it’s been longer since I have seen you.” He shrugs, “I wanted to see you.”
Not knowing what to say, I say nothing. Dwayne and I would be great together except for the fact that he has a wife. But I couldn’t think of this conversation like that. He’s here for sex. This is the first time he has made any attempt at seeing me since I have been back. A poor attempt at that. When I left for Florida he seemed distant and has seemed that way ever since. It seems he is having a hard time sharing me. Although he obviously feels it’s very okay if he is being shared. Again my fault for giving Dwayne too much lead way along time ago, that has to stop or I will never have my own relationship.
“Is there a problem,” he asks with a nervous laugh.
Trying not to sound upset I answer, “Yes, you can’t just keep coming by here without calling.”
“Okay,” his expression turns sour. Making it harder for what else I have to say. But it needs to be said. “You can’t just knock on my door whenever the feeling strikes you.”
We have talked but there was never any indication that he wanted to see me. Even if there was that doesn’t give him the right to come by particularly at this time of night. He actually seemed like when he was talking to me he was doing me a favor, just keeping in touch. I assumed it was because I went to see Jerome but I didn’t give it much thought. I wasn’t hurt by his shady side. Christopher had done well with filling in the space. Outside of sex I'm good.
Now he’s standing here looking at me like he doesn’t understand the situation.
“I'm single. I could have been out on a date, out of town or having a party.”
“Yeah aiight.” He cuts me off, turning abruptly to head down the steps. I couldn’t read his emotions. Even with him standing in my face it was hard to tell what he was thinking or feeling. Anger. Hurt. Indifference. Why is it even bothering me that he has feelings? Never bothers them that I have any.
As I return I see Christopher hasn’t budged, not even to pause the movie for me. Before I go sit with him I go into the kitchen and grab two more cans, more of a distraction than anything. I'm not ready for any questions that can be waiting on my couch. I'm not ready to pretend I don’t feel bad about what just happened, but I can’t hide forever.
“Everything okay,” he ask when I return.
“Yeah just a friend in the neighborhood.”
“Hope I'm not interrupting anything.”
“Not at all.” And with that nothing else is said, just a kiss against my forehead as I resume my position against him.
The nothing I was asking for is not welcomed. I'm fine with and quite relieved that he is not laying a lot of questions about the door. But strangely I'm equally as upset that he didn’t say more, doesn’t ask more. As crazy as it may sound it would be nice to detect some jealously, in his words or posture, a snide comment about late night visitors. Instead it’s like I never left.
Maybe that’s just a female thing, the need to have feelings voiced. Then I consider how totally different he would have reacted on our first date if the roles were reversed.
Mid thought he lowers his head to kiss me tenderly on the lips. At first I'm thinking it’s just a nice gesture. When the kiss deepens I know it’s meant to send the appropriate message to the rest of my body. Before I know it I'm lying on the couch with Chris’s large frame looming over me. Covering me warmly, yet I still pull him closer. Weeks have past with me asking myself over and over again why this moment hadn’t happened. Wondering what he was waiting for, am I not desirable to him. What perfume should I wear to entice him today.
As his two large heated hands go under my shirt, cupping my breast none of those questions matter. Raising me off the couch slightly he unhooks my bra, laying me back down gently. My body arches into his hands as he brings them back to my breast, tweaking and squeezing both nipples simultaneously, never breaking our kiss. Giving my body total enjoyment, my eagerness and expectations are heightened from the weeks of waiting.
Chris moves his lips expertly down my neck before moving on to my exposed breast, taking hold of one nipple between his teeth applying light pressure. Rubbing his tongue back and forth adds a sweet sensation to that applied pressure, sending delicious shivers throughout my entire body. Shivers that I have been imagining for weeks, a wetness I have been creating in my own panties through those fantasies.
Unbuckling my pants, sliding them over my ass with his hands caressing every part of my exposed ass before he moves my panties aside to slide his fingers in easily.
In a low sexy voice, “Damn baby.”
I smile in response grinding into his hand dizzy with sensations all over. Every touch sending more chills. Holding on to Chris feeling like at any moment I could go over the ledge. When I think I cant take it anymore he goes down tongue first using both thumbs to spread my lips and gain full access, sucking on my clit and dipping his tongue into me in a continued rhythm. A moan escapes my lips as my hips find that same rhythm with Chris following with a deeper moan than my own. My head falls back as I enjoy the texture of his tongue, the sound of his moans turning me on more. Nothing like a man who enjoys giving you head as much as you like receiving.
And as much as I was enjoying this moment I want him inside me. So I reach to pull him up but he swats my hand away. Pulls me tighter so I can’t move. My legs are tightly around his head but he pulls me closer. With me rocking on his face like this I can’t believe he can breathe. But he can. He has to with the continued rolling of his tongue. Then it’s there, waiting to explode. When he inserts his thumb I can’t take it and three weeks spill out of me. Three weeks of no man’s touch.
Chris laps up everything that spills out of me, sliding his tongue gently up and down my shaft until she is empty. Or so I thought until the sensation starts again. This time he pulls me to the floor to sit me on his face. And we start over with me smiling.
“So you didn’t have sex?” Gayla asks the next afternoon as we leave Yoga Source on S. Big Bend. They offered a drop in cost that worked good for non-committal people. Two weeks ago we started a yoga basics class for beginners that turned out to be way more challenging than either of us thought. Even with the challenging poses it amazingly relaxed your mind while strengthening the body.
“Nope, none. What do you think?” We were getting in Gayla’s car to head over to the Galleria Mall where we will meet our moms for lunch at The Cheesecake Factory.
“It could be a number of things. You didn’t ask?”
“Well I reached for the man’s zipper. He removed my hand. But I'm sure I made my intention and need known.”
“True,” she agreed as we reached her Saab.
We had more than an hour for our reservations with our moms so we were going to shop a little. But my mind was on all the possibilities of why he was not having sex with me, more than new shoes. Retail therapy cured anything but only numbed sexual frustration.
“Am I being to whorish? You know what’s wrong with a man waiting to have sex with me. This may be good for me; he may be good for me.”
“This could be true. Remember I want men to stop trying to have sex with me too soon. And sweetie three weeks isn’t long at all. I would be so appreciative of someone taking their time with me, then to go down on me like that, shiiit. He’d better watch out I would get too comfortable.”
“Right. I think it’s the just not having sex for three weeks. I'm usually laid by now.”
“Where’s Dwayne? Mister Fix Her Upper,” she laughs not noticing I am not amused.
“I think he’s mad at me. That same night Chris was over, Dwayne stopped by uninvited and unexpected.”
“Oh wow, how did that go? You really should have told this story from the beginning.”
“Funny the no sex was more on my mind than anything. I honestly hadn’t thought about Dwayne until you just mentioned him.” I groan now thinking of him. “It wasn’t pretty…” Then I give her the story of his arrival and departure.
“He sounds ticked.”
“Men,” umph, “you can have a whole wife but get upset at me for not being readily available for midnight calls.”
By now we have reached the mall and are parking in the covered garage near Macy’s. Maybe the retail therapy will be helpful. Now thinking of Dwayne my mood has darkened a little more. Sexually frustrated and my go to guy is dealing with the reality of our situation.
“Well enough about me, what’s been going on with you? And please let it be something a little more upbeat than mine.”
“Got two more catering events, so I decided to hire an extra hand to help strictly with catering,” she states nonchalantly like I'm not waiting on a man update.
She sighs rolling her eyes into the back of her head, “I don’t want to talk about the no good, boring and useless men in my life.”
“Isn’t that why we talk about them, to entertain each other.”
“Your stories are entertaining. Mine are sad short dramas. I am done complaining about them, men just ain’t shit. And you would think I would have figured this out sooner with the daddy I had.”
I don’t know what to say. Gayla never talks about her dad good or bad. When I first tried to get her to talk about him when he left it always led to an argument. As we got older I thought I could bring it up again and it would be less painful. No such luck. With the way she still believed in relationships I began to believe that it didn’t have as much as an effect but now I'm thinking I was wrong.
“If it’s not one thing it’s another. He got the hint about continuously dating me, but now he has all these issues, with all of the things he tells me, stories he tries to spin. He tries so hard to convince me how much he wants me and how happy we can be but his actions speak otherwise,” she states shaking her head, “but your right if nothing else he is entertaining.”
“Yeah if nothing else,” I echo thinking about all the men currently providing entertainment in my life, “what’s going on though?”
She sighs heavily, “Where do I begin?” She pauses and I think damn is dude that bad. “He has two kids who are the same age. I believe he is still in a relationship with one of the mothers or maybe he just still fucking her I don’t know. What I do know is that it is ruining anything we may have ever thought about doing. She calls whenever she wants no matter the time of day. And if he doesn’t answer she will call back. She wants to know where he is and he always gives her a comfortable answer.”
I giggle, “A what?”
“A comfortable answer, you know something that won’t cause too many questions. He obviously can’t say he out eating so he says some stuff like ‘nothing what’s up’, almost none of your business but I can’t say that.”
We both giggle at her answer but I know what she means. You’re out eating with someone and he gets a phone call and to you lie about where he is. But the answer may sort of make you and the second party comfortable.
She continues, “But what took the cake is this man asks me to cook for him in the same breath that he tells me he can’t have company because she likes to pop up.”
I scrunch up my nose, “Are you serious.”
“Yes but I’m not to believe your still in a relationship with her. On top of that you are most times unavailable phone off or just not answering. He may or may not call back. When he does call it’s usually the most inconvenient time. Like today its Saturday I'm free I won’t hear from him. I even text him to let him know I was free. On Monday he gone call with ‘Oh baby my fault I got busy. But you know I'm getting attached to you right. I can’t stay away,’” she says deepening her voice mocking most men and we both burst out laughing.
After our giggles subside she says, “Now though I'm more interested in growing my business.”
“Nothing wrong with that,” wish I had that same joy in my career. I love my job. Absolutely adored the people I worked with. I just didn’t receive any real joy from it that nothing else mattered, enough to go without sex, orgasms and someone’s head between my legs, to completely depend on my work for my piece of mind. Maybe if I did my dating life would be different.
That may seem strange but maybe I have too much time on my hands. If I had something else to do I wouldn’t worry so much about having a man in my life. I could easily walk away from any of them that meant me no good.
“Yeah, the space next door is available and I'm thinking of expanding over there for catering. Actually I already talked to the leasing office. I just have to wait on the okay to knock down the walls.”
“Gayla that’s wonderful!” I say truly excited for my friend. “Gram would be so proud of you.”
“I know right,” she smiles getting rid of thoughts of her dad and other no good men in her life.
“Will you keep the same décor and name? What are your plans?”
“Yes everything will be pretty much mirrored. I can still use the tables for interviewing clients and taste testing. I will still need at least one register and I want people to be able to walk to either side from inside. The kitchen will have to be bigger so that will be a lot of work. The signs will read Sweet Cakes Catering and Sweet Cakes Pastries respectively.
“You seem to have put a lot of thought into this.”
“Yes,” she says giggling and seeming truly happy. “Anything to keep my mind off these men.”
Laughing we both turn into Victoria Secrets Semi-Annual sale. Gayla and I by pass the tables and head over to the regular priced items newly in season. We both loved the bargains as much as the next girl. But there was something not so relaxing, messing up my retail therapy, about digging in those bins, praying for your size. Then being constantly disappointed when you’re in your right bin but keep coming up with the wrong size but the right style. And then you have to look for a panty in your size that matches in some way because you know it won’t be the manufactured matching bottom.
“I'm so glad you and your mom are having lunch with momma and me. The last time we shared a meal I felt like I was in an interrogation room and the line of question was my messed up life.”
“I'm sure it wasn’t that bad.”
“Please she needs a son in law and grandkids and that’s the only thing that’s going to get her off my back.”
“She loves you Mya be happy. Besides I'm glad to be here it’s been a while since I’ve seen Momma Wilson. You also have Chris now and that seems to be going good.”
“Yeah,” I smile.
Thirty minutes later Gayla and I are heading out of Vicky’s with our purchases when I see some cute little tank romper short sleeper. Going over I pick out a black silk one. Cute.
“I'm gonna go back over and pay for this.”
“Okay, I’ll sit out here and wait. Yoga hurts.”
“I know right.”
I'm handing the cashier my charge card when I hear someone behind me say hello ‘Mya’. I turn and its Chris’s redhead friend from the Lumiere and just as before the woman looks effortlessly stunning. Today she is dressed in a green polyester pants jumper, its high waist with elephant legged pants. The top went around her neck and cut low between her breasts. The color made her already green eyes appear greener, if that’s possible. She has on gold flats but was still extremely tall. Bob perfectly in place.
I on the other hand am dressed in workout clothes and no make-up. My hair isn’t actually ponytail length so it’s held back with a headband and of course I perspired a little so the edges aren’t at their best. To add I all of a sudden felt musty when I was just a few seconds ago very comfortable with who I am and how I am dressed.
She reaches out her perfectly manicured hand that wasn’t holding her oversized multi-colored Prada clutch and says, “Hi. We didn’t properly meet when you were with Christopher. I'm Blake.”
I shake her hand, “Mya.”
“So doing a little shopping with your free time from Christopher,” and for whatever reason her tone sounds mocking to me. Like she knows something I don’t. While at the same time making me feel inadequate, like a small child. Then I think of that thing that he had to be to in a month. Isn’t she supposed to be there?
“Just enjoying a Saturday with my girlfriend,” I answer with other things on my mind.
“Oh well you know these weekends will be frequent with Christopher’s situation.” Situation? I guess that’s what we will call his job. But she makes this comment like I confirmed my loneliness in his absence.
“Yeah I'm sure,” not sure at all. “Well my friend’s waiting and we have lunch reservations. Nice meeting you.” I say trying to get away from her.
“You too Mya. See you around.”
I hope not. When I get into the mall Gayla comes straight over from Mrs. Fields cookie counter.
“What took you so long? Look,” she says before I can answer raising a cookie to my eye level, “spoiling my appetite.”
“The red head was in there.”
“Where,” she asks peeking anxiously around me.
“Don’t be so obvious,” I answer pulling her into Macy’s, “Don’t you feel funny eating cookies from there owning your own pastry shop?”
“No. I have a pastry shop with fine delectable. Not eating Mrs. Fields would be like not eating Oreo’s.”
Once inside Macys I pull her over to the handbag section, were we stand amongst the Michael Kors handbags peeking out into the mall through the glass. Of course I had told Gayla all about Miss Glamorous Red Hair Green Eyes, everything about her mysterious presence and Christopher’s mysterious behavior.
A few minutes after taking post Blake walks out with a tall black man whom I believe to be her husband. As if she knows someone is watching her she turns and looks in our direction. Gayla and I quickly duck down falling over. The fast movement caused plenty of people to look in our direction, including the sales lady who adds extra attention by bending to ask if we need help. Everyone’s looking like we are about to steal all of Michael’s handbags. Embarrasment fills me because as much of a spectacle we have just made in front of Macy’s patrons I am sure Blake is still turned looking in our direction watching the commotion. Retail therapy straight out the window has just gone straight out the window. With a giggling Gayla in tow I hurry to the second floor and out on the next level to avoid Blake and the Macy’s stares.
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