by Carl Weber
“Look, Jerome, be fair,” he begged. “You knew I was married when we started this thing. How often do I complain about these guys you be seeing?”
“Only reason you don’t complain is because you didn’t want me throwing your marriage in your face. You know what they say about people in glass houses.” I tried to push my way past again, but he stood his ground.
I sighed. “Look, I still care about you, but it’s better we end things now.”
“End things?” His eyebrows shot up in shock. I bet he’d never expected me to be the one to end it. He shook his head vehemently. “Uh-uh. It’s not over yet. You can’t just walk out on me. I love your black ass.”
“You don’t love me. You love what I do for you. Love is a commitment.”
“We are committed,” he said. “Shit, we’ve been together for five years.”
“No, we’re not committed.” I softened my tone. “And for a while, I was okay with that.”
“But you’re not now? What exactly are you saying, Jerome?”
“I’m trying to say it was nice while it lasted, but I’ve found someone. Someone who makes me happy. Someone I can grow old with.”
“What do you mean you found someone? Didn’t you hear me a little while ago? I said I love you.” He exploded, pushing me backward against the wall and grabbing my shirt with both hands. I could have resisted, but at this point, he was his own worst enemy.
“If you love me, leave your wife.” I pointed at the portable house phone on my dresser. “Call her. Tell her you’re leaving her. You don’t even have to tell her you’re leaving her for a man. Just tell her you’re leaving.”
He looked at the phone but didn’t move toward it.
“Come on,” I challenged. “I wanna hear this.”
He looked at the phone again and then back at me, but I knew he’d never make that call. I was issuing an ultimatum that I knew he could never live up to.
He let go of my shirt and turned away from me. “Who is he? Who’s this guy you’re going to be with?”
“You don’t know him. He’s someone from my past. We just reconnected.”
“Is he better-looking than me?”
Oh, God, I’d never heard Big Poppa sound so pathetic.
“You’re both good-looking men. But this isn’t about vanity. This is about me being happy.”
I took a step into the hallway, but he grabbed my arm to stop me.
“Don’t do this, Jerome. I really do love you.”
“If you really love me, be happy for me.” I gave him a smile, but he looked like he was going to cry.
“I can’t. I can’t be happy for you if you’re with some other dude.” He stepped out of the way.
“Okay, then I’ve got to go.”
I leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.
“How about one for the road?” he asked. I know he thought he sounded seductive, but all I heard was desperation.
“No, I don’t think that’s such a good idea. I’m in a relationship now. I’m saving all this good stuff for him.”
“What he don’t know won’t hurt him.”
“You need to give it up, because it’s not happening.”
“I can’t believe this.”
“Believe it,” I told him as I picked up my bag and headed for the door.
He followed me outside, but thankfully he was done talking. I was too exhausted to deal with him anymore, not to mention the fact that Ron was probably wondering where the hell I was. My phone had been vibrating in my pocket the whole time I was trying to get rid of Big Poppa.
I pulled out the phone and saw that there had been several missed calls, all from Ron’s number. I tried to call him back, but it went straight to his voice mail. He was probably trying to punish me for not picking up my phone before. It was all right, though, because I knew Ron would let me make it up to him later in the way I knew best.
I left him a message. “Hey, Ron. Sorry about not answering before. I had something to handle over here, but don’t worry about it. Everything’s taken care of, and I’ll be on my way back soon. I’m just gonna stop and get something for us to eat. Maybe Mexican food…and, of course, you know what I’m bringing for dessert.” I got in my car, looking forward to another hot night with my fine young man.
Michael
15
“You still coming in?” Celeste turned to me with questioning eyes.
We’d held hands the entire ride home, but neither of us said a word until we pulled into her driveway. I was pretty sure she was pissed off about seeing me talking to Loraine outside the men’s room. I could only imagine how she might have interpreted what she saw. As for me, I was quiet because I was still trying to figure out what the hell had just happened. Don’t get me wrong; it felt good to know that Loraine was jealous, but you couldn’t have paid me to think she would be bold enough to camp out in front of the men’s room at a major function just to confront me, especially with Leon in the building.
“Celeste, I’m sorry about what happened with Loraine. I wasn’t trying to embarrass you. She followed me to the bathroom.”
Celeste leaned in, and I braced myself for a smack, but instead she kissed me. “Thank you.”
“Thank you?” I sat silently for a second. “So you’re not mad at me?”
“For what? I heard you defending my honor. You were really sweet. I know that must have been tough.” She kissed me again, then reached for the car door. “You coming in?”
“Yeah, I’m coming.” Maybe this wasn’t going to end up a bad night after all.
When we were inside, she placed her bag on the small table next to the door and threw her arms around my neck. She kissed me softly, smiling when our lips parted, then kissed me again passionately.
“I’ve been waiting to get you here all night.”
“Well, you don’t have to wait any longer. I’m here.” I kissed her neck, and my hands roamed her backside, sliding under her dress until I felt the bare skin of each cheek. I had no idea who invented G-strings and thongs, but one day I’d love to buy him a drink. She arched her back, letting out a small moan when my finger massaged the thin material covering her clit.
“Oh! My, my, my, somebody knows what he’s doing.” She gently removed my hand from between her legs. “But I think we’re getting a little ahead of ourselves. I’ve got a lot of plans for us tonight. So why don’t we slow things down a bit.”
I was reluctant to stop what we’d started, and only did so because she seemed to be offering the promise of bigger and better things to come.
“Why don’t you fix us a drink?” she asked, leading me toward the small bar in her living room.
“Sure. What you drinking?”
“I don’t know. Surprise me.”
“Okay.” She had everything necessary to make apple martinis, so I got to work.
She came up behind me and gave me a kiss on the neck that sent shivers up my spine. “I’m gonna go upstairs, take a shower, and get into something a little more comfortable. I’ll call you when I’m ready.”
“Sure you don’t want me to take a shower with you?” The way she’d been teasing me all night, I was ready to get this party started.
“Ohhh, that sounds nice, but let’s stick to the script tonight. I’ve been planning for a couple of weeks.”
“Okay,” I agreed, wishing I didn’t have to. Sometimes it was hard being the nice guy.
I handed an apple martini to Celeste. She picked up the TV remote and tossed it to me before sashaying toward the stairs, drink in hand. I watched appreciatively. If there was one thing I could say about Celeste, it was that she had one hell of an ass.
I sat on the sofa and turned on the TV, channel surfing until I found an old Muhammad Ali fight on ESPN Classic, but I didn’t end up watching any of it. As soon as I set down the remote, I heard my phone ring. It wasn’t just any old ring tone either. It was the song “Secret Lovers” by Atlantic Starr—the ring tone I had reserved for Loraine. Once aga
in, her behavior totally caught me off guard. Following me to the men’s room, insulting my date, and now calling my phone at one in the morning: These were not the actions of a woman who was done with a relationship.
I stared at the phone, wondering what to do. I mean, I wanted to talk to Loraine to ask her what was really going on. Maybe she was calling to tell me she wanted me back. But then again, she had been pretty pissed off at the club, so maybe she was just calling to curse me out. She probably went home with her minute-man husband, and he left her frustrated once again, so now she was calling out of spite to keep me from getting my groove on with Celeste.
Speaking of Celeste, I heard the shower stop running as I was sitting there deciding whether to answer Loraine’s call. My choice was to answer the call from a woman who might be calling just to yell at me or to go upstairs to a woman who was ready to make me feel real good. It was a no-brainer. I hit IGNORE and leaned back on the sofa to watch TV while I waited for Celeste.
Before I could even get into the fight, my phone chirped, letting me know there was a new text message. I didn’t have to look at the phone to know who it was from. This was good, though, because now I would know what the hell Loraine wanted without having to speak to her. I could read a text from her without having to mess up my whole night. If she was cursing me out, I could just hit DELETE and be done with it. If it was something else…Well, I would decide later how to deal with that. I flipped open my phone to read the text:
I KNOW I SHOULDN’T HAVE ACTED THAT WAY. PLEASE CALL ME BACK. I NEED TO TELL YOU SOMETHING IMPORTANT.
I stared at it for a few seconds, unable to decide what to do. The good news was that she was apologizing for her behavior earlier. The bad news was that she hadn’t said enough for me to be able to read between the lines. If only the last line had stopped with “I need you” then there would be no question about my response. I would be out the door of Celeste’s place in a heartbeat. But she hadn’t said that, so who knows what the “something important” was? It could have been just about anything—and for that, I wasn’t willing to give up what was just beginning between Celeste and me.
If Loraine had something truly important to say, she would have to wait. I sent a reply:
A LITTLE BUSY NOW. I’LL GIVE YOU A CALL IN THE MORNING.
It didn’t take long for me to get another text. In fact, I got three in quick succession. The first one read:
THIS CAN’T WAIT UNTIL TOMORROW.
The second one was picture mail. I opened it and saw something I definitely wasn’t expecting. It was Loraine in a bathtub, her best features covered by a thick layer of bubbles.
Now she had my complete attention. I read the third message:
I’M AT THE MARRIOTT ALONE. ROOM 1424. THE BUBBLES WON’T LAST UNTIL THE MORNING AND NEITHER WILL I. CALL ME.
My heart was pounding. All night long I’d been trying to figure out what the dramatics were about, and I was afraid to admit to myself that no matter how great Celeste was, I was still hoping Loraine’s actions meant that she still cared. Well, holding out on her had forced her to finally just come out and say it in a straightforward, extremely sexy way.
Needless to say, I called her right away.
“You get my texts?” she asked in a voice that made my manhood stand at attention.
“Oh, yeah, I got them.”
“I look sexy, don’t I?”
She did look good, but I wasn’t about to tell her. I had to make sure she wanted me back for the right reasons. “Loraine, why’d you call me? Is this just because you saw me with another woman?”
There was silence on the line for a good thirty seconds, which I took to mean that she didn’t want to admit her answer was yes. “Bye, Loraine. I don’t have time for games.”
She hurriedly said, “I miss you, Michael. All right? I miss you so much! I want you to come over here and make love to me.”
“You still didn’t answer my question. Is this just because you’re jealous? ’Cause I don’t want to start something only to have you kick me to the curb again.”
“I need you, Michael,” she said quietly. “I love you.”
Instinctively, I said, “I love you too.”
“So you coming over here? I really need you. I swear I’ll make it worth your while.”
Back in the day, when I was the lonely fat kid, I never would have dreamed of a night like this, with one beautiful woman upstairs getting ready to make love to me, and another woman, one who I loved, basically promising me the same thing. If this was a sexual fantasy, of course, I’d somehow end up with both of them in bed, but this was real life, and I had to choose.
Taking a leap of faith to trust that she was done playing games, I told Loraine, “Yeah, I’m coming. I just have to take care of something first.”
“Just don’t make me wait for too long,” I heard her say at the same time Celeste called out to me that she was ready for me to meet her upstairs.
I hung up the phone and heaved myself off the couch with a sigh. If only I didn’t have a conscience; then I could just slip out now without even saying anything to Celeste.
It felt like the longest walk of my life as I climbed the stairs to Celeste’s bedroom. I guess I wasn’t moving fast enough for her, because she called out to me two more times before I opened her bedroom door.
The room was pitch-black. “Celeste?” I heard a click and a single high-hat light turned on. She was sitting across the room in a high-back chair, wearing a silk robe. Not far from her chair was something I never would have expected to see, and I had a feeling it was going to make this whole situation even more difficult.
“Hey, handsome. Welcome to Club Celeste.” As she stood up and walked toward a gold stripper pole that extended from the ceiling down to a small stage, I noticed the six-inch high heels she was wearing. “I had this installed last week just for you.”
I stared, openmouthed and genuinely unable to speak.
“I highly believe that a woman must be a lady in the streets and a freak in the sheets.” She did a quick spin around the pole and then stopped, posing with a seductive smile on her face.
Damn, she went all out, was all I could think. My mouth was still not working.
“Sit on the bed.”
I followed her directions automatically, my brain being controlled by my desire at this point.
There was another click, and Lil’ Kim and 50 Cent’s song “Magic Stick” started to play in surround sound. Celeste slipped off her robe, revealing a fire-engine-red stripper outfit, including a garter and fishnet stockings.
She jumped on the pole like it was her full-time occupation. I was frozen in my spot. I knew what I had come upstairs to do, but she was putting on a damn good show, and I just couldn’t make myself turn away. By the time she got finished doing splits and dips, removing parts of her outfit along the way, I was perspiring. When she turned around and started doing the booty clap, I was ready to take off my clothes right then and there to seal the deal.
My original mission was all but forgotten—that is, until I heard the faint sound of “Secret Lovers” playing on my phone again. I reached into my pocket and hit the SILENCE button right before Celeste ended her routine.
I held my breath, trying to calm my racing heart as she stepped off the stage and walked toward me as naked as the day she was born.
“So, what did you think?” She looked down at the bulge between my legs and smiled. Considering how hard she’d made me, there could be no doubt about what I thought.
I tried to think unsexy thoughts, picturing scenes from some goofy Jim Carrey movie I’d seen on TV the other night, in hopes that it would bring me back from the edge of the cliff I was about to jump off of. I wanted Celeste so damn bad, I was seconds away from abandoning my nice-guy persona and throwing her ass on the bed to do all sorts of nasty things with her. Fortunately, thinking about the movie reduced my hard-on just enough to snap me out of it and make me remember the promise I’d made to Loraine.
Now it was her turn to stand frozen. My reaction was clearly not what she had expected. Can’t say I blamed her, though. How many men would say no to what she was offering?
“Um…” I didn’t even know how to start.
“Oh. My. God,” she started, taking a step back. Her seductive swagger was replaced by sudden self-consciousness. She slumped her shoulders and crossed her arms over her naked breasts. “You didn’t like it, did you? You think I’m a slut for doing this.”
“No, it’s not that. It’s just—”
“Just what?” she interrupted sharply. “What is your problem?”
I stood up and tried to put my hands on her shoulders, but she stepped back farther, avoiding my touch. The embarrassment on her face was almost painful to watch. It was time to say what I had to say, to put us both out of this misery.
“Do you remember when we first went out, what you told me?”
“No. I told you a lot of things.” Her tone was one of annoyance now. She sensed what was happening and wanted to get this over with as quickly as I did.
“Well, you told me if I was…if I was ever going to get back with my ex, I should be the one to tell you…and…well…” Atlantic Starr’s song started ringing from my pocket again. She looked down at my pants, and the tears that welled in her eyes let me know that she understood who was calling.
I reached into my pocket and silenced the ringer. “Celeste, I’m—”
“Shut up!” she screamed before I could say sorry. I watched her rush back to the place where her silk robe lay in a puddle on the floor. She threw it over her naked body and then looked at me, tears streaming down her face.
“It’s not you; it’s me,” I started, knowing as I said it that my words would do nothing to soothe her. “You’re beautiful, a great woman, probably more than I deserve, but I can’t help the fact that I love Loraine. I’ve been in love with her since I was fourteen.”