Risqué

by Perri Forrest

  “First time for something like this. You know me and my summers. Usually at home lounging and catching up on all the shows I missed during the school session. Using my unemployment checks as mani/pedi treats. Basically, not shit, really. It’s like a long-ass Sunday,” I chuckled. “So, this feels good to do something different. I needed this. Dealing with six and seven-year-old miniature adults is a tough-ass job.”

  “Girrrl! So is what I do—being an Executive Assistant, tending to Executive asses! Taking care of full-on adults. It’s not too far off from babysitting. I swear. Can you fax this? When his or her ass just passed the fax machine. Can you schedule this? When your stupid ass has the same calendar access that I do! Can you get so and so on the phone? The hell?! You can’t dial?! Whew honey. So, trust me when I say that I’m the one with the real babysitting gig.” She brought her drink to her lips again.

  She had me laughing hysterically with her antics. Skai thought Kameelah was boring, but maybe the whole time all she needed was liquor in her system to shed all her reserve. Because I was enjoying her company to the fullest, and glad that I called her to hang out.

  “I can’t with you,” I choked out, while laughing at her.

  “I’m glad I Uber’d down here because I’m gonna need at least two more of these. And oh God, the strength in ‘em. I might have to kiss the bartender.”

  “Drink up, woman. You’ll need that more than you think after I tell you what I have to tell you.”

  I blamed it on the liquor for my certain urge to tell Kameelah my secret. I did want to tell somebody, but I wasn’t sure that I would go through with it. But now, I’d initiated it, so . . .

  Her big eyes lit up with excitement. “I was wondering when you were gonna spill the tea on your new man.”

  “Wait, what? Why would you say that?” I asked her suspiciously.

  Her face drooped and her smile washed away suddenly. “I . . . ummm . . .” She stopped. “I’m just asking. Nothing to it,” she stated slowly.

  “Yeah, it seemed a little more loaded than nothing to it…”

  “But it’s not, girl. Cross my heart,” she said, making a faux cross along her chest. “For real.”

  I inhaled a deep breath, then took a big gulp of my liquid courage. I wasn’t sure if I would even have the courage to tell her now. As bad as I wanted to tell my short erotic tale, now, I was feeling weird about it all. Kameelah lit up like she knew something already. It wasn’t impossible. She did live on my block. She knew where I lived. She knows I’m a teacher. She knows my size. But why? Couldn’t be. She would’ve been there herself. I think. I didn’t know what to think.

  “I don’t know, Kameelah,” I squinted my eyes to see if I could detect a lie present in her face.

  “What?” she asked concerned. “It was just a comment. Seriously.”

  I took a few seconds. “Okay, so I did something. Something that . . .” I paused and shook my head in contemplation. Deep contemplation. Looking around the restaurant at everyone moving about in their own zones of happiness, suddenly, the guilt fell away like onion peels and I blurted it out. “I had sex with a random guy.”

  Kameelah’s eyes bucked wide, her bottom lip separated from the top. “You did wh—?”

  The moment the words left me, I regretted it. Just that quickly. I can’t! So, I decided to retract…

  “Girl, I was kidding!” fell from my mouth as easy as the lies I told as a kid to avoid a spanking.

  But Kameelah’s head twitched side to side. Her thin lips turned up at the corner in a sly grin. She bit down on her bottom lip; her grin transformed into a full-on smile. “Uh-uh . . . you meant that shit.” She leaned forward again, this time whispering so low I almost didn’t hear her say, “You really did have sex with a random guy, didn’t you? Spill it right now!”

  Before I knew it, I was telling Kameelah everything, start to finish. From the box, to the note, to the items inside, to the climactic moments I shared with that man.

  “You sure that box was for you and not me?” she asked when I was done. The whole time she was animatedly fanning herself.

  “I’m sure,” I answered, laughing out loud.

  I felt relieved that I had told someone. But there was a part of me wondering whether I should have told her or not.

  “This heat level is too much. Spicier than that curry I just ate. Whew chile, the freakiness of it all. I need to hang out with you more. Let some of that boldness rub off on me.”

  “Psh, stop it. You’re bold all by yourself. Me, on the other hand, that was a rare occasion. Please believe me. I’m surprised at myself.”

  “Hell, me too. You come off so reserved. Not in an uptight kind of way. Just closed off.”

  “None of that sounds good,” I laughed.

  “I don’t mean it to be bad. It’s not. Whatever you do, just don’t let ‘surprised’ become embarrassment, because you did nothing wrong. Shit, sounds like everything right.” She brought her drink to her lips, studying me. “Lord, you’re already embarr—”

  “All I can think of, is what kind of woman my daughter would think I was, if she—”

  “Your daughter is grown, Giselle. And so are you. You did your part. You raised a beautiful young woman who’s out living her own best version of herself. You’re being too hard on yourself. And doing that, won’t allow you to accept that you just gave in to desire, passion! All wrapped up in a penis! Listen,” she said tapping the table with the tip of her nail like a miniature gavel. “You gotta stop because you’re killing the vibe for me right now.”

  “I’m killing the vibe for you?” screeching loudly, I asked, “Did I hear that right?”

  “You absolutely did.”

  “Oh uh-uh,” I laughed out again. “When, oh when, did this become about you?”

  Kameelah paused to take a look down at her cell phone. “It became about me, when listening to your story made me wanna go do a little freaky drive by of my own.”

  “Uhh, no ma’am. You will not blame me for that!”

  “Can I get you ladies any refills?” their waitress asked, suddenly coming out of nowhere. “I really like your hair,” she complimented Kameelah. “It’s so bold, striking.”

  “Thank you, sweetheart,” Kameelah smiled. “And that’s a no on the refill for me.”

  “Same here,” I cosigned, sending our waiter scurrying off to the table next to ours. Kameelah grabbed her dinner napkin, wiped her mouth, then grabbed her purse and slid out of the booth seat she had occupied for the past hour and a half. “And where are you going?” I asked her.

  “Were you not listening to me? I’m off to a drive-by.”

  “You are not serious.”

  “Tuh!” Girl, I’ll come see you tomorrow and tell you all about how serious it got. Love ya, mean it!” she yelled out on her way out of The Buffet.

  -17-

  “Nice digs you got here, man!” Damon, a friend of Zane’s acknowledged of his new residence. “Who got the décor together for you? Because I know you didn’t do this. Burgundy and beige on leather? Shit is nice as hell, man. Where do they sell two-toned leather at? Because this is some fancy-ass shit here.”

  “Nothing fancy about it,” Zane said laughing it off. “It’s just furniture.”

  “That who picked out?” Damon’s scowl was accusatory, as he folded his muscular arms across his chest. “Man, don’t tell me you just came to this town and already have some chick taking over. Live a little, first.”

  “There’s no chick,” Zane explained. “And I for sure don’t need you telling me to live a little. I live a lot. So, thanks but I’m good. And this place is executive housing. They sent me pictures, I picked. Simple as that.”

  “Shit. Can’t complain about that. That’s the life.”

  “Right,” Zane said, walking away from the exchange. He could already tell that Damon was going to annoy the fuck out of him, so he was set to ignore him for however long he needed to. Although Damon Brown was one of his best friends in t
he world, he acted with so much privilege sometimes that it got under Zane’s skin. Damon was from one of the richest black families in Chicago. And not only was he a trust fund kid, he had gone on to make his own fortune as well. So, that new money mixed with old family money had him with airs that were a turnoff for most people. But since they were more like brothers than friends, Zane dealt with it. He just preferred it in moderation, and at a distance. “But I’m sure you didn’t fly all the way out on a pop-up visit, to talk about furniture. If you did, you should’ve saved a trip.”

  “I came to hang out with my buddy,” he stated following a few steps behind Zane. “Get in some of this night life and maybe go home with a wife.”

  Zane threw his head back in deep laughter. He knew better than to ever believe anything about marriage, coming from Damon’s mouth. As far as Damon was concerned, marriage and monogamy were two evils of the world, behind Donald Trump.

  “Okay, got it. It really wasn’t about furniture. You flew all the way out here to tell jokes, I see!”

  Looking down at his cellphone, and scrolling through the screen, Damon asked, “Why you say that?” before glancing back up at Zane.

  “Man, you know why. Your relationships last just about as long as the orgasm and not a minute longer. I’m not getting into this dead-end discussion with you. Seriously. I’m grabbing me a shot of Jameson. You want?”

  “Yeah, I’ll take a double.”

  “Cool. Now we can get into what brings you out?”

  “I need a reason to visit my closest friend, my brother from another mother?”

  “Not at all. I’m just curious. You didn’t even tell me you were coming.”

  “And again . . . do I need a reason?”

  “Alright, so since I’m not a Dentist and thus can’t pull teeth, just tell me how long you’re staying and what you’re trying to get into while you’re here.”

  “That sounds like you’re rushing me out.”

  Zane shook his head in frustration. He loved his boy, but sometimes . . .

  “Not rushing you, Dame.” He took the short walk to hand him his glass. “It’s just a question.”

  “If you say so,” he frowned. “Even though it sounds like you’re putting a limit on how long I can stay. I’m just out for the weekend. The contractors are putting the finishing touches on my extended master, putting my fireplace in the shower, and adding a bar in my entertainment area. I didn’t feel like hearing all that banging and shit, so I’m here . . . in peace, and they’re there. And so, while I’m here, I figure I get into some shit. Particularly, some new and unfamiliar.”

  “You just finished talking to me about fancy!” I laughed. “And here you are leaving your mansion in the capable hands of contractors? Who are you? The Damon I know would never leave anybody else—”

  “Oh, trust me, they’re under security. It just wasn’t gonna be me. I need sleep when I need it. Calm when I need it. And running machines, excessive banging, and running into people when I don’t want to, wasn’t of interest to me.”

  “They won’t be done after the weekend. At least it doesn’t sound like it.”

  “They won’t. But I have meetings next week that I need to be back in town for. I’ll stay at one of my rental properties. No biggie.”

  Zane raised his glass for an air-toast. “Cool with me. My schedule is wide open.”

  “Well pack a bag and grab a suit.”

  “What?”

  “Yeah, you don’t see my bags, do you? I got the Presidential suite at the Bellagio.”

  “Aww damn. I’m down for that.”

  Damon smiled. “I figured you would be.”

  -18-

  After Kameelah jetted off, I finished what was left of my drink and left the restaurant. I thought about all the things I could do that were nearby, but none of them really grabbed at me enough to do them. Had Kameelah stuck around, then the club might’ve sounded good. Or at least a nice bar where they were playing music. Cirque du Soleil would have been nice, had I planned ahead and gotten some tickets. The choices in the hotel, were minimal. At least for tonight. But it didn’t matter because the evening was mine, to do whatever I wanted to do with it. It was total freedom. The whole mood felt the way I imagined it to be for rich folks. No cares in the world. Move about however they wanted. Buy whatever they wanted. Just a big-ass whatever—to life!

  In the same thought, it made me think about my teaching career. I went into it for one reason: To be a better help through my daughter’s academic career. But I ended up staying for another: Because it was where I was needed. Something like a purpose—possibly just for that season in my life. But now that I had finally gotten the hefty settlement from my divorce, I found myself thinking more and more about possibly leaving teaching. There was so much more I wanted to do. Things I thought about before I even had a child and got married. Hair, bartending, culinary school, to name a few. Something that would lead to having my own business. An exclusive salon, an upscale bar, or a fancy restaurant. I used to always have thoughts about those avenues. But I settled into my roles and got comfortable.

  Complacency is never a healthy place to be.

  Maybe it was time for me to rethink what the rest of my future held.

  “I just know it’s going to be beautiful, baby,” came a woman’s voice not too far from where I stood, awaiting the nighttime show to begin for the Fountains of Bellagio. “It’s going to be so beautiful,” she repeated, curling into the curve of her lover’s arm, and snuggling tight.

  I wouldn’t be telling the truth if I said that their display of affection didn’t have me feeling melancholy. I loved love. Wish mine could have lasted. Hope that I can find it again.

  When I found myself staring, and waiting to hear how he would respond to her, I knew I was focused too much on something that wasn’t my business. I turned away, and walked a little further off, for a view all my own.

  The body of water was really calming to look at. Body of water. Where had I seen that recently? And right there, the thoughts rushed me again . . . of that night. That water looking just as pretty as the water in this beautiful lake that I stood in front of. The scenes played out similarly, too. Music, people, magnetism. It was that night all over again.

  Shake it off, Giselle! I scolded inwardly.

  It wasn’t the first time that my mind went to that night, to him, to his touch . . . to what was in his pants! Just dammit. A few times those sexy thoughts triggered reactions from my body. And because of the feelings it brought with it, I was forced to finally make use of the new toys I had bought. If only to quiet the urges for a little while. I had to.

  However, even as satisfying as my toys were, they could never compare to what he gave me.

  Stop with the comparisons.

  Stop with the trips down memory lane

  Shit!

  Focus, Giselle! Focus on the show.

  F-o-c-u-s…

  As the music switched to a more up-tempo selection than the previous sounds, and as sounds of admiration grew in octave from the crowd of onlookers, I was jolted back to the present. My focus found the main attraction. Once I steadied my gaze, I couldn’t take my eyes away.

  It looked like choreographed routines! But with water! And sensual! There had to be over a thousand jets of water rocketing into the air. And they went high into the air. My God. It was phenomenal. I could've seen it from my suite, but standing right in front of it, gave me a view that I would have to thank my daughter for later.

  Damn.

  I brought my hands over my mouth in surprise. It was a must-see. The dancing streams of water illuminated from inside with colors like red, turquoise, and pink. The jets twirled and spun to the rhythm of the songs playing. The crowd, including myself, went crazy. There was applause from all around the lake area, for the show that seemed never-ending. I made a decision right then and there—since they had a daily schedule, I would be here every night of my stay. Every single night.

  If I had to de
scribe the show in one word, it would be enchanted.

  I pulled my phone out of my fanny pack and set it to record. I had totally forgotten that Skai asked for a video. I moved closer to the barrier and pressed the record button. Just as I did, I heard, “So we meet again. Here, of all the places in the world. How ironic. Seems water brings us together…”

  -19-

  I’ve never seen such a perfect ass on a human being . . .

  It was like déjà vu for Zane all over again. Seeing her from behind. The water. The music. He had met her once, but he would know the fine detail of her body anywhere—whether in a cream-colored silk robe, or a white jumpsuit. How he spotted her in the large crowd of onlookers was beyond him, but he was ecstatic that he had. He thought long and hard while watching her. He debated on whether to approach, because the last time he had seen her, she was bolting from the scene of a beautiful crime, that to him, starred the perfect pair.

  After all the debating on whether or not to close in on her space, the desire to look in her eyes again, won out in the end. So, there Zane stood face-to-face with her waiting for the clear look of surprise to disappear from her eyes. He hoped that once she gathered herself, there would be a response. One that would lead to further conversation. He hoped.

  “Is it really irony, though?” she finally said.

  Zane’s face opened up into a smile. “I’d say. Because what are the odds?”

  “Umm, probably zero probability.” She looked around suspiciously. “You sure you’re not following me?”

  “I’m absolutely sure of it. I’m more of a leader than a follower.”

  “Really? Well, I guess that puts us right at irony, then.”

  “I guess it does. The last time I saw you—”

  She put up her hand slowly to cut him off. “You don’t have to remind me. I was there too.”

  “And then you just weren’t.”

  He watched her shift her weight from one foot to the other. In the same moment, she fidgeted with the strap of the cute white pouch thing wrapped securely around the seductive curvature that was her waist.