Leaving work early Monday evening there has still been no word from Chris. Saturday night I came home from my parents tipsy enough to not give it much thought. But Sunday morning waking to no missed calls or text messages sorrow spreads over me. I made a couple of calls that morning, nothing too stalkerish, before breakfast, a breakfast I didn’t partake in because of the slow churn building in my stomach.
Not wanting to be worrying for no reason, getting all worked up when he is somewhere in perfect condition, I tried to keep myself busy, doing laundry, going to the grocery store things I would usually do with my Sundays, but that didn’t stop the questions. Where is he? Is he okay? What happened? Then there was the one that kept popping in there, the most important one, the one that made me want to cry, what did I do wrong? Where else does your head go when you cant find the answers. Did he disappear for something of the pettiest or the largest thing. My non-cooking, a wife and mother whose cooking skills are limited could run a family man off. Could be that I wanted him to meet my family too soon. Anything is possible it could be my independence or the color of my nail polish. As much as I racked my brain there was never a simple answer in there. Late that evening when I tried his phone again it went straight to voicemail with each call indicating that he had turned it off.
How long am I supposed to sit around waiting for him to return my call or tell me what is going on good or bad? Insert the key card into the front entrance I walk by the always so friendly front desk girl. Today she looks at me a little odd but I can’t quite place the look, sympathy maybe pity but she doesn’t stop me so I keep walking. Upstairs at his door again the key works, stepping in I see nothing out of place just empty of his presence. Dishes are in a rack in his kitchen to my left, desk along with computer and printer are still in place on my right. Out of my shoes I decide I will sit around and wait for him. Today I am getting an answer even if it sends me home crying, which wouldn’t be a big change from yesterday. Hopefully he isn’t out of town or at the hospital for the night.
Standing I go in the kitchen for a drink as well as to redirect my thoughts. I look for something to drink but the fridge is unusually empty something that makes me take closer inspection of the place. Up the stairs his bedroom is clean, bed made but there is something I'm missing, I can’t forget the front desk girl’s look.
Then I see it through the slight crack in the door, an empty closet. My heart pounds hard as my brain comes to life I go over to get a closer look. Nothing, not even a stray wire hanger or lint ball. Turning I go to the dresser, pull open a drawer and again nothing. I go into his bathroom and although still beautifully decorated there are no personal items. No razor, no soap, not a toothbrush or toothpaste. The anger that fills me is like no other I have ever felt. Running down the stairs I take in the desk again paperless, pictures gone. The tears come fast and hot. My body is shaking as I sit on the last step with my face buried in my hands.
What the hell is happening? He just packed up and left. In the downstairs bathroom I look for tissue to clean myself up but there isn’t any because no one lives here. I want to scream so bad just to see if it will relieve some of the pain. Clean my face with my hand I rush toward the door.
I know at this point he isn’t coming back, not with all the phone calls and text I have sent. What type of person does this? Looking a little more together I approach the front desk girl and without me asking she tells me everything she knows.
“I'm sure I shouldn’t be saying anything but being a single woman I understand,” she began. “I haven’t been here but a few months, he moved in around the same time, but you’re the only person I have seen visit him. This morning he came and packed up all of his stuff and said he wouldn’t be returning. His lease is up at the end of the month and he didn’t want to renew, which is why the key still works,” she says nodding at the key in my hand. “Most of the lofts in this building come fully furnished for people not in town for long mostly men. I'm really sorry.”
“Thanks,” I tell her with a smile leaving the useless key on the counter. It helped but it wasn’t enough. Why? Okay you gave up your apartment but what made you give me up. Are those two things related? That was more important now, but she gave me enough to send me home. Getting in my car I see that I have a few missed calls from Gayla but I don’t feel like talking about it. I just want to go home and drown my sorrows in a bottle of wine alone, like I will apparently be for the rest of my life.
When I arrive home my day gets worse as I look at the red roses on my steps haunting me. No way had the delivery guy just left them there, and seeing how Chris has disappeared I am more than sure that they are not from him. There is no card as I expected, I walk them in the house and out the back door to the trash. I haven’t had any phone calls, maybe because the ringer is still off, but I can say today I am just really not in the mood.
Back inside I lock the door grab a bottle of wine and pour me a large glass, then head up to my bedroom with the bottle. Somberly I walk into the adjoining bathroom and pour strawberry bath salts and bubble bath while running water for a steamy bath. Movements in a trance I turn to refill my wine. Stripping myself naked step in the tub and do what I have been doing for the last couple of days, think of Chris. How we met. Why he disappeared? Tears slide down my face. Was I that unbearable? But the more I think about it the more I know I did nothing wrong.
Knowing this does not help the crying. The tears come harder and faster as I remember our meeting, as I remember our nights entangled in each other. I think of his touch. His 6’2” caramel frame with broad shoulders and solid stomach. I think of the times we showered together and smoothed lotion on each other’s skin, those intense brown eyes. But I don’t want to think of him in that way. I want to be mad at him and hate him.
The last time I saw him he cooked me dinner at his place after work. Chicken in a marsala wine sauce over rice. It was simple but very nice and caring. Sitting on one of his bar stools I watched him at the stove. We both were fresh off of work but he has already showered and changed into pajamas.
After dinner he walks to the stereo and starts a Johnny Gill CD. Turning to me he walks over and pulls me close, just simple small movements then a kiss. His lips were soft and full with a light taste of delicious and his post showered body smelled wonderful. He takes his lips to my ear slightly pulling at it with his teeth. Closing my eyes at the memory I slide further into my bathwater, into depression but the memory keeps playing.
The bulge in his pants and the wetness in my panties were indications of where our night was heading. As he kisses me he unzips my skirt and runs his large hand over my ass. He pulls my face closer, deepens the kiss.
Between kisses he comments, “we should go somewhere a little more comfortable,” and before I know it I am in the air and we are headed up to his bedroom where he sits me on the bed.
Both naked Chris kisses me down my neck, laying me down, until he reaches my breast. Taking my right nipple nicely in his mouth he puts first one finger then two into me. I let out a slow relaxing breath as my hips fall into rhythm with his fingers. His lips leave my nipple, cold and hard, to meet my clit. Now my hips are really moving. His tongue replaces his fingers inside me. I move faster against his tongue. His tongue moves over my clit roughly once more then back inside me, feasting on me like I was his last meal. I feel my body shaking. His tongue won’t stop and I don’t want it to. I’m smiling as those lovely sensations take over causing my body to convulse.
As my body slows down I see him smiling. I smile back and should be tired. But I’m not finished. Grabbing the handcuffs I know he keeps in his side drawer he smiles because for months he has been trying to use these on me. If tonight he can handle me using them on him I just might let him hold me hostage one day.
“Lay down,” I instruct.
He does as he is told and lies across the bed. I grab a second pair of cuffs and link both his wrist to opposite bedpost on his four post bed. I smile down at him and he just looks back with curious happy eyes. Reaching down I rub the head of his dick. Kiss him softly on the lips and head down. Licking slowly around the head with my eyes on his, I massage his balls with one hand using the other to grip the base while sucking him in never letting my eyes leave his. He moans and raises his hips to make sure I get all of him. Looking at him I press my lips a little tighter and rise up slowly with my tongue tickling him upward. At the head I rub my tongue under the circling of the head. He pulls at the cuffs wanting to touch me. It’s making my clit throb watching him wanting to be free. I release his balls to start fingering myself and start to moan taking him deeper into my mouth. He’s moaning louder, eyes squeezed shut pulling at the cuffs as I work him up and down.
“Fuck Mya,” he screams.
And I know he is ready so I put a condom on him then climb on, pushing him into me slowly before fully. He is going crazy pulling to be free. I begin to ride him hard, hands holding onto his chest as he pushes harder. He can’t get lose but he will make sure he is a part of this show. I put a nipple into his mouth and ride harder.
“Mya please,” He begs pulling at the cuffs, ready to break free.
I give in. I grab the keys and release him all the while smiling. I’m ready for whatever he is about to give me.
He immediately flips me over and pounds into me hard and fast. He grunts and pounds into my body harder. His tongue finds my mouth and I taste myself. This makes me kiss him harder. It’s something euphoric about tasting me on his lips.
He grunts in return. Harder. Faster. My body begins to tremble, hips move involuntarily. I grab hold and we scream out in unison.
The ringing doorbell interrupts my thoughts. Opening my eyes I slide deeper into the water hoping the person will just go away. Then there is knocking combined the ringing doorbell. After a few more minutes of knocking and ringing I reluctantly pull myself out of the tub. Not bothering to dry off the excess water I just pull my robe on and let it drip a trail to the door. Getting my face together as best I can I go down to see who is intruding on my downtime. Gayla. Tears fall uncontrollably as she steps in; the glasses of wine are not helping at this moment.
I ask, “Why are you here?”
“Because I let you cry alone yesterday when you didn’t answer my calls, not today. If you drink and cry again alone today I'm afraid I may never pull you out. This is what friends are for. Go get yourself together.” She demands heading into my kitchen with her bag.
When I come back down I am dressed in pajama bottoms and a t-shirt. Gayla has cleaned up my water mess and have containers of Chinese all over my living room table with two glasses of wine. I smile at her happy she came.
“What movie is this?”
“Magic Mike,” she turns smiling, “I bought a copy for both of us.” I sit beside her and look through the containers, she has already filled her plate with crab ragoon, lo mien, fried rice and chicken wings. Everything smells wonderful reminding me that I hadn’t had anything since my bagel and coffee this morning.
“No problem. We all know what it’s like so I knew you hadn’t eaten. I also knew it would be good to think about something else.” She didn’t ask any questions about Chris and I didn’t give any answers. She was right I just needed to think of something else. Besides Matthew McConaughey barely dressed in a leather cowboy outfit is telling everyone what they couldn’t touch. I fill my plate with orange chicken, lo Mein, fried rice, one crab ragoon and one egg roll.
Forty-five minutes and two plates later, stomach full and heart heavy, “I went to his loft.”
Pausing the movie she turns to me, “All of his stuff was gone,” I can’t stop the fresh tears, I feel like shit.
“Well not all of it. Apparently he was leasing a furnished apartment so all he had to pack up was personal items.” I stop to wipe my nose. “The girl at the desk told me he just did that this morning. Last night his phone started going straight to voicemail. So at least I know he is okay,” I add sarcastically attached to an unhappy smile.
“Mya I'm so sorry.”
“You know this hurts worse than anything Jerome or Terrance could have ever done or said to me. It’s so much easier when I know up front that I mean nothing to you. This man celebrated a four month anniversary with me when I wasn’t even thinking about anniversaries.” My transforming emotions are on the move again. Pity, sorrow, hurt and now anger. “I wasn’t even thinking of a freaking anniversary. I mean really what date did he use to come up with that?”
Shaking her head Gayla answers, “I know girl men be on so totally different shit. The things they come up with.”
“These five months have been a complete waste of time. Well not complete I guess like with all men I have gotten some nice things out of it, just never what I really want or I couldn’t have gotten myself.”
There is silence. I don’t blame her I don’t know what I would say to her if the roles were reversed. This shit is sad.
“No wonder you’re not dating. I just don’t know about going without sex,” I giggle. That’s my problem.
“Girl,” she drags out wiping her forehead in emphasis, “don’t think it’s easy. This shit is hard. I saw a guy last week at the gym just completely ripped, Mya I wanted to mount him. I don’t know how long I stood there watching him, daydreaming about him but when he turned to smile at me it all faded away. I thought of all the assholes through the last couple of years and I saw one of them in him. I did though go home and masturbate to images of him.”
“Eeww Gayla too much,” I laugh thankful for a pleasurable feeling.
Laughing, “Please I hear about all your romps. Seriously though if I could have one night stands I would but today you can’t trust people. I meet someone go somewhere with him or take him home I could come up missing. No trace.”
“Ain’t that the truth?” After a few minutes of silence, movie on mute like were mourning the loss of men Gayla says, “I'm sorry he did this to you.”
“Don’t be. Its good I found out now instead of another four month.” Four more months of this only for the same end would have been worse, unless it was something about me that made him jet. “Thanks for coming by though. It did help more than I thought it would.” I was set on crying all night and finishing at least one bottle of wine before turning in.
“I couldn’t stop worrying about you. I was really set on the not ready to meet your parents thing, never did something like this cross my mind.”
Tsk, “Me either. To just pack up all your shit and just leave,” I can’t help shaking my head in disbelief. “Men aint shit. Even if he would have giving me an excuse could you imagine how lame it would have been.”
“Right, once a guy called me three weeks after our third date and told me he had been distracted but could we get out that weekend.”
“Distracted?” Laughing has taken over my emotions now and its one I welcome. One I haven’t felt in a few days.
“Exactly, what the hell does that mean? That is the broadest answer you could give someone, someone who didn’t even question where you had been. ‘I was distracted,’” she adds in a mocking tone with her head hung. “I’ll tell you what the distraction is, some other woman. You can only be distracted from me for so long if you are really interested.”
For the rest of the evening Gayla and I compare the dumb shit men have said or done to us over the years. Finishing off two bottles of wine with the T.V. stuck on a freeze frame of Channing Tatum making the audience give up all their money.
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