by J. J. Murray
I yank off his Steelers jersey and get a look at his tittles. Lord, they're bigger than mine! Shit, what he do? Fertilize them or something? I reach out and squeeze, but they ain't flabby. Boy got him some rock-hard titties, and a quick glimpse down shows me he got a rock-hard somethin' else, too. This boy is packin' a concealed weapon, and I intend to frisk that bad boy out of him.
He buries his head on my titties and works his way down to my stomach, but instead of skipping it and getting to my pants zipper, he kisses all over my fat stomach, holding it, squeezing it like it's the best piece of flesh he ever had. When he puts his tongue in my belly button, I nearly fall out my legs are getting so weak.
"Dewey," I whisper. "Take off my pants"
The zipper comes down; then he goes down down down down down on me. We still haven't left the door, and the doorknob is gettin' right fresh with my ass. If any of my neighbors come by just now and stand on the other side of the door, they'll be getting an earful of slurping, moaning, and "Oh, yes!"-ing.
"Let's go to the bed," I say. He stands. "I wanna see what you got"
Instead of me leading him there, he sweeps me into his arms and carries me, sucking hard on my neck. Lord, bein' airborne is nice! He eases me onto the edge of the bed, and I unzip his pants and remove his underwear. What falls into my hands is like sculpture, and the only thing runnin' through my head, I swear, is Some elephant is runnin' around in Africa with a tusk missin'.
I slide back on the bed, but I don't let go of his booty pin, and unlike Jonas, Dewey knows exactly where to put it and how to use it. He finds a rhythm with that booty pin of his, and he splits my alley till I'm thinkin' STRIKE STRIKE STRIKE!
The phone rings during my second orgasm. Yes, the Lord has a strange sense of humor, and no, I'm not answering it, and no, you don't have to stop massaging my back, and yes, you're hard again, and oh, yes we goin' bowlin' bowlin' bowlin' .. .
"It's about time you came around, Dewey," I whisper to him while he spoons me afterward. I like this feeling, toohis massive arms around me, his hot breath on the back of my neck. I don't feel any guilt, despite all the time I've spent in church. I know premarital sex is wrong, but if you ask me, some marital sex is wrong, too. "You know you gotta marry me now, right?"
"I do?"
"See there? You're already practicin' for the wedding. I like me a man who thinks ahead"
"Now, uh, just wait a minute, I-"
I slam my booty back into his stuff, which is still sort of hard. His stuff should be illegal. "I am not the type of woman who sleeps with a man without a reason. I want to marry you, Dewey."
"I know, but I
I squash his stuff again, and it feels even harder. "You want this again?"
"You keep doing that, I'll have to do something about it."
"Then, give it up, boy. Work that thing." He gets himself in position, but I knock him loose with a hand. "That didn't hurt, did it?"
Damn near bruised my hand! I ain't swattin' his stuff away again. "So you gonna marry me?"
"Can I think about it?"
"You have to think about it?"
"Well, yeah. There's so much to think about"
I grind on him a little. "Like what?"
"Like a lot of things."
I put his hand on my tittie. "Like what?"
"Like ... the kids."
I turn over and straddle him, putting my full weight on him. He doesn't even flinch. I never even attempted this position with Jonas. Might have killed him. "I love your children, Dewey. You have to know that by now. I'd raise them as my own" I kiss his narrow nose. "And maybe we might have one of our own. I ain't that old."
"I don't know, Ruth," he says. "Mama-"
"Don't you bring her in this," I interrupt. Shit, boy, you gonna dry up all my juices you keep talking about her. "I ain't marryin' your mama, and you shouldn't let her decide who you can marry."
"Is that what you think happened between me and Tiff?"
"Is it?"
"No" He doesn't say anything for an entire minute; then he sighs. "Do we have to be talkin' 'bout marriage right now?"
I feel his stuff rising, oh, yes, it's rising! "I just want you to know how serious I am about you, and I want you to be serious back"
"I care about you, Ruth, but-"
I put him inside me. My alley has only been vacant for five minutes, but that's five minutes too long. "Go on" I start me a little ride. Lord, this is what sex is supposed to be! "What were you sayin'?"
"Oh, Ruth," he groans.
I scratch his chest and ride him harder. "That's my name, boy, but that ain't what you were about to say. Now finish what you were sayin'."
He tries to sit up, but I keep him flat on the bed, riding him harder than before. "Can I ... oh shit ... Can I tell you after this?"
I'm gettin' right close to coming my damn self. "Do you love me at least?"
He starts thrusting up as I plunge down. "Yes. Yes, Ruth"
"So you might marry me?"
He pulls me down to him, and while he chews on my ear and I get happy like a tent meeting revival in the pouring July rain, he whispers, "If I ever marry anyone, Ruth, it will be you."
Thank You, Jesus! I cry all over that man's face after that, kissing away my own tears as he rolls me over and finishes, pumping me, filling me, holding me, loving me.
And when we're through, I get all up in his business. I gave him some; now he got to give me some important information.
"You gonna tell me about you and Tiffany Jones now, Mr. Baxter?"
He goes limp inside me. "Yeah. I guess I should." He rolls to his side of the bed. Where'd my sculpture go? Bring it back! "I had every intention of marrying Tiff. I really did. And I would have except ... except for the ... people she hung out with." He closes his eyes. "Those ... people ruined her."
I almost don't want him to go on, but I have to know. "What people?"
He shakes his head. "Her so-called friends. Tiff was the sweetest girl when I met her. She told me the first time we met that she had just gotten out of jail but that she was changing her life around. And I believed her. She was a wonderful mother to Tee at first. But when her old friends started coming around, the ones she used to run with that got her put in jail, Tiff became someone else. She drank heavily. She got high. She started running the streets again, staying out all night with who knows who. She even ... She even forgot she was Tee's mama cuz of the ... cuz of that little glass pipe."
Whoa. Naomi didn't tell me about this side of Tiffany. I'll bet Naomi didn't know. "I get the picture, Dewey. You don't have to tell me any more."
"No, I do, cuz of what it has to do with Mama. You see, Tee been raised almost as much by my mama as by Tiff. I can't tell you how many times Mama went over to Tiff's apartment to find all sorts of insanity goin' on, and there was Tee holdin' an empty bottle wearin' a dirty diaper and howlin' in her crib. If it wasn't for Mama, Tee might have been taken away from Tiff and put in foster care a long time ago"
Which explains more why Tee don't miss her mama as much as Dee ... and it also explains that Nanna is more protective of her grandchildren than her son. She's lookin' out for a good mama for Dewey's kids; she's just thinkin' about her babies-like me. We both want the same thing! All I have to do is convince her that we think alike.
"I sent money to them, but I shouldn't have stayed away like I did. I know it was wrong, but I just ... I didn't want to be caught up in all that. I didn't fit in. I didn't belong. I was afraid of gettin' arrested or even becoming what Tiff became"
"That's no excuse, Dewey. Tee was your child. She needed you, not just your money."
He nods. "I know. I know I should have done more, but as it was, I got to see Tee right often anyway, just about every weekend"
This is getting way too complicated now. "Well, if Tiffany was so messed up, why you go back to her?"
Dewey sighs. "I thought she had changed. Her place was clean. She started taking better care of Tee. Mama didn't have to `baby-s
it' nearly as often. She went to church every Sunday. She was holding a job for more than a month. Her friends stopped coming around. Fact is, her friends were either in jail or in worse shape than she was, a few even in detox somewhere"
"Did she ever get any treatment?"
Dewey shakes his head. "Just church once a week"
Even I know that ain't enough for any addiction. Tiffany's attendance at church would have been enough for Naomi, though. What was it Naomi said? That Tiffany had gotten her act together? That Dewey had ruined this girl? Tiffany Jones ruined her damn self six days a week.
"And the day she died, I think Tiff was going across town to ... to get hooked up again."
Tiffany wasn't coming to see him? What did Dee say? Something about wanting something in the "worstest" way? "Dee said she was coming to see you at work"
He sighs. "She was coming to me for more money. She started doin' that more and more near the end. Said she was gettin' the kids new clothes or shoes, but Mama and I never saw them. Half my paycheck just wasn't enough for her."
The phone rings again, fifteen times before quitting.
"It's probably Mama," he says.
"Thanks for tellin' me all that, Dewey." I kiss his forehead.
"I wish I could stay."
"So do I, but you better be goin'." I sniff the air. "You wanna take a shower first? Your mama gonna know you been doin' this"
He squeezes my ass. "I want her to know."
"Really? She ain't gonna be happy about it."
He smiles and pulls on his underwear. "She'll get over it." He slides into his jeans. "But ... I won't"
"Neither will I" Shit, my coochie bruised. I pull my covers around me. "You weren't lyin' to me about marrying me, were you?"
He pops his head through his jersey. "No"
"You sure?"
He returns to the bed and holds my face in his hands. "I'm sure. Tonight was ... magic or something. Kinda like a real live miracle."
Daa-em. I can't speak.
He puts on his boots, tucking the laces inside. "I ain't much of a religious man, Ruth, but ... You've been a blessing to me and my family. I wanna do right by you"
Oh, yes, Lord! "Then, ask me to marry you."
He stands. "I will. When the time is right"
"And tonight isn't right? You just said it was a miracle."
He reaches out his hand, and I take it, my heart bouncing around in my chest. Is this it? Is this the moment he asks me? He pulls me out of the bed, the covers falling away till I'm naked. He kisses me, hugs me, and looks into my eyes. "I don't have a ring for you yet, right? I can't make it official without a ring, right?"
Oh, yeah. A ring helps. "You'll get me one?"
He compares his pinkie to my ring finger, and they're pretty close in size. "Might."
I swat him on the ass. "You might?"
He kisses my forehead. "If I say I definitely will, it won't be a surprise, will it?"
"I've had enough surprises in my life, Dewey Baxter, believe me. I want something real." I guess that's all I've ever really wanted. Something real.
"So do I, Ruth. So do L"
We kiss one long last time, I walk him to the door, kiss him once more, and close the door behind him. The phone rings again, and this time I answer it.
"Hello?"
"Is Dewey there?" Nanna asks.
"No, Mrs. Baxter," I say, and I ain't lyin'. "He just left. How you doin' this evening?"
"Why you ain't been answerin' the phone? I just called a few minutes ago. What if there was some emergency with the children?"
My heart skips a beat. "Are they all right?"
"They're fine, not that you'd care"
"I do care, Mrs. Baxter."
"Uh-huh. Right. Anything you say."
Calm down, Ruth. She's just trying to press some more of your buttons ... But I can't let this shit go! I got more self-respect than that! I'm gonna give her a dose of her own hatefulness, see how she likes it. "I didn't answer the phone, Mrs. Baxter, because I was busy with your son," I say.
"Busy?"
"Busy. Very busy. You understand what I'm tellin' you?"
Silence on the other end.
"Mrs. Baxter?"
Click.
I think she understands. Oh, yes, my Dewey's gonna walk into that apartment smelling like me, and Nanna gonna know she is messin' with a real woman this time, a sober woman, a woman addicted only to God now. I ain't gonna fade away because she wants me to. I ain't gonna ever lose sight of those children. My friends ain't into none of that shit. No. Nanna is gonna see that we think alike, so much so that whenever she looks at me, she gonna see herself staring back. Whenever she hears me speak, it'll be her own voice comin' at her. I'm in it to win it, and I think that I've already won.
I want to call Tonya and tell her everything, but ... Tonight was too special for that. I'm just going to treasure all these things in my heart.
And I am gonna sleep directly on the wet spot because I earned it.
TART SOUR
What the Lord xas
for jMe, Jt Zs for jMe
`twenty-one
The phone wakes me at six the next morning. This had better not be Nanna again. "Hello?"
"Good mornin', Ruth," Dewey says. "How you doin'?"
I could get used to his voice every morning, country as it is. "How am I doin'? I am sore" My alley all busted up, and I will be cringing as I style hair today. "Other than that, I'm good. Everything okay there?"
"Yup "
"You ain't sore?"
"Nope"
That ain't fair. He should at least be chafed or something. "Your mama's mad, ain't she?"
"Yup "
"She still there?"
"Yup.
"And she's right there listenin' to this call."
"Yup.
I smile. We're gonna play us a little game. "Dewey Baxter, I love you"
Now's the time to say it, boy. Now's the time to put it in your mama's face. Now's the time to make things perfectly clear to that wench. "Same to you," he says instead.
I roll my eyes. "You were supposed to say it back to me"
"I know."
"Why didn't you?"
"I'd rather show you"
Oh, yes, I would much rather that he showed me-in about a month. My coochie gonna have to be rehabilitated. Almost feels like I've been through another birth. "When am I gonna see you again?"
"How 'bout tomorrow night? I'm taking the kids out to ride the go-karts"
Joy. Exhaust fumes, video games, and bad pizza. "What about tonight?"
"Thought I'd give you a rest"
That's better. Nanna is probably clutching at her turkey neck right now. "I need it. You wouldn't believe how sore I am"
"I'm sorry."
"Don't be. I'm sore in a very good way."
"Oh"
"When will you pick me up?"
"Probably around six, but it may be a little later."
I'll count on later. "I'll be ready at six."
"Bye, Ruth"
"Bye, Dewey. Thanks for callin'. Have a good day."
With his mama listening in, a man has called me the morning after outstanding sex. He didn't say he loved me out loud, but he certainly made it clear to his mama that I was a force to be reckoned with.
I smell my body and turn up my nose. "And my funk is a force to be reckoned with, too," I say, easing out of bed and going into the bathroom. I check out my neck and see a few love-bites, find a huge love-bite on my left tittie, turn and look at my ass and see another. When did he do that? And how did he do that? Oh, yeah. I was just too busy examining his "tusk" to notice.
I take a fairly warm shower, dress in some loose sweats and a turtleneck, and head for Diana's. The pain in my coochie is wonderful! Dewey and I are gonna have to do it often till I'm used to it, and I'm gonna have to keep walkin' and jumpin' rope so I can keep up with him. I'm gonna lose me some weight while I gets me some lovin'. Lord Jesus, thank You for invent
ing sex!
My first client at Diana's is, of all the people on this planet on this particular morning, Junie Pruett. She never comes into Diana's, so she must be here to talk. Kevin plays softer, and Diana stops clipping Mrs. Simpson so loud.
"What you want done, Junie?"
She sits in my chair. "Oh, just comb it out, style it whichever way."
"You sure? I could edge you up, trim a bit."
She smiles. "Uh, no. I'll get all that done the day of the wedding."
Had to remind me, huh? But her bringing up the wedding doesn't bother me that much as it used to. Maybe I'm ready to fully let go. "Who you gettin' to do that for you?"
"Nubian Designs."
Of course. They'll probably color her hair to match her wedding dress. I comb for a bit, Junie saying nothing. We're back on the porch again.
"Um, Ruth, I didn't really come in here to get my hair done," she says. "I came to ask you to play at my wedding next Saturday."
Hmm. This could get pretty tricky. "Jonas said I wasn't playing."
She takes the deepest breath I've ever seen her take. "Well, Jonas is wrong. You are playing at my wedding, and damn it if Jonas can't handle it."
You go, Junie Pruett! "Okay."
"We'll rehearse with the tone-deaf soloist and the mechanical heifer organist he's picked out from Central Baptist, but you and Kevin just show up the day of the wedding and do your thing. Jonas can't say no then because I'll say no to him at the altar if he makes a fuss"
Wouldn't that be something! "You sure, Junie?"
She turns to me with a look of determination, her eyes two round pieces of coal. "I'm damn sure, Ruth. Damn sure"
I look at Kevin. "You know `The Wedding Song' yet?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Good"
"Um, you won't be listed in the program at all," Junie says, fumbling with her hands. "Hope that's all right."
That solves the two Mrs. Borums problem. "It's fine, Junie. I'm sure everyone there will know who I am"
Junie and I go over the order of the service from the processional to the recessional, she pays me with a crisp fifty (!), and she leaves.
I look at Diana. "None of this leaves this place, hear?" Mrs. Simpson, the silent one, nods. Kevin nods. Diana ... smiles. "Diana, you can't tell no one any of this."