by Lori L. Otto
I hug her and kiss her on the cheek, and she does the same. She takes my hand and guides me to the stairway. “I’m just on the third floor,” she says, leading the way. I get a good look at her body on the way up. She is flawless. I grab her by the waist before we exit the stairwell and turn her around.
“Remind me why I’m here,” I request, and I lean in and steal a kiss from her all-too-willing lips. “That’s right,” I say, breathless.
I am greeted by Roscoe, who jumps up and scratches my knees until I pick him up. “Hey, buddy,” I say to the friendly dog, rubbing him on the head. He licks my face once and I immediately put him back down on the floor. I like dogs just fine, but I don’t care to be kissed by them. Now, their owners...
“Would you like some sparkling water?” Kiersten asks.
“That would be great,” I tell her, following her into a small kitchen. Her apartment is modest, but very well kept. It’s a very modern, clean space, no clutter anywhere. It suits her personality perfectly. She hands me a glass of water and gestures for me to have a seat in her living room. One thing I immediately notice is that she doesn’t have a television. She picks up a small remote from across the room, though, and turns on some music. I finally see an unassuming CD player in the corner, but she has small speakers mounted on all the walls. It could be a concert hall in here. The sound is perfect.
Jazz music fills the room. Not the hideous smooth jazz that has flooded the radio waves in recent decades, but the kind that makes me think of a dark, smoky dive, circa 1940. It has definite sexual undertones to it.
“Nice selection,” I comment. She brings in a tray of assorted fruit and sets it on the coffee table.
“Hungry?” she asks, picking up a plump strawberry and taking a slow bite out of it. I watch her lips, desiring them on my own, the thought of food the furthest thing from my mind. I can’t deny how physically attracted I am to this woman. I just look at her in awe.
And it’s not just her physical beauty that is tantalizing me. She carries herself with such confidence, such presence. It’s obvious she has no need for a man, especially one like me, but it excites me to know that I am here because she wants me here.
“I’m not hungry for that,” I tell her as she offers me a grape. She laughs.
“Patience, Nathaniel,” she says to me. No one ever calls me by my given name, but it sounds so sensual the way she says it... almost breathy... she teases me with a short kiss. “There’s more to me than sex.”
“Uh,” I stumble, looking for words, embarrassed at my behavior. “How was your day?”
“It was nice,” she answers, and proceeds to tell me about her morning meeting and the case that she’s been working on. She has such passion for her work, and obviously cares deeply for the people she defends. She is a perfect story-teller, too, creating vivid mental images for me as she tells me about her life. Her vocabulary far exceeds that of any other woman I’ve dated. The perfect enunciation of her words only adds to her appeal.
She tells me that her father was the driving force in her life. He always instilled confidence in her, and pushed her to do better. When she was in college, it was a speech he gave her, voicing his disappointment in the path she was choosing, that made her decide to enter rehab. She always wanted to make him proud. He died of cancer a month after she passed her bar exam. He lived to see her exceed every dream he had for his little girl.
“Sounds like you really loved him,” I say.
“Daddy was my life,” she smiles.
“So was mine,” I lament.
“He is the alcoholic?” she asks, reluctantly.
“Yes, but I didn’t know at the time.”
“When did you find out?”
“The night he... died,” I tell her, clearing my throat.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” she blushes. “I didn’t realize...”
“No, it’s okay,” I assure her. “It was a long time ago... nearly twenty years. I was just a kid.”
“And your mom?” she asks.
“Mom’s still here. Remarried. Very supportive of me,” I smile.
“Good.”
“Most of the time,” I laugh. I see a picture of Kiersten across the room with two small children who look a lot like her. They have perfect, dark complexions, long eyelashes, and amber-colored eyes that match Kiersten’s. For a minute, my stomach falls. I get up to take a closer look.
“Cute, aren’t they?” she asks.
“Are they your...” I can’t even finish the sentence.
“Nieces,” she cuts me off. “They’re my sister’s kids. Alesha and Nessa.”
“Sorry, they look so much like you,” I laugh.
“A lot of people say that. It makes sense, my sister and I look a lot alike.” She pulls out a small album from a bookshelf and shows me a recent picture of the two of them.
“You could be twins,” I comment.
“She’d love to hear you say that, she’s four years older than me.”
“Are you close?”
“Oh, yes. We’ve grown even closer since my nieces were born. I’m the designated baby sitter, but it’s possibly a better job than my lawyer gig,” she jokes. “The girls are amazing. Do you like kids?” she asks me.
“Honestly, I haven’t spent a lot of time around kids. I was an only child, my parents were the only children in their families... I don’t mind kids, but at this point, I can’t say that I want them.”
“That’s fair,” she says. “I feel the same way... not sure that I want to have my own. Maybe my nieces are good enough for me... or maybe I’ll change my mind when I find the right man.”
I nod and sip my water, feeling captivated by her. She looks me in the eyes, placing her hand on my chest. I put my arm around her, and she rests her head against me.
“Your heart is racing,” she notices.
“I don’t know what you’re doing to me,” I admit. “But I like it.” I glance at her clock across the room and I am surprised to see the time. “Is it really midnight?” I ask.
She glances at her watch and is also surprised by the time. “Wow.”
“Do you have to get up early?” I ask her.
“Not tomorrow. I’m just working on some briefs at home,” she answers. “I’m not ready for you to leave yet,” she adds.
“Good. Because I don’t want to,” and I can feel my heartbeat soar as I lean into her and press my lips to hers. Her fingernails trace soothing circles in my scalp, and I’m completely at ease in her arms. I unzip her jacket to reveal a tight tank top underneath. I kiss her neck, and she settles back against a pillow on her couch.
“Let’s take it slow,” she requests, and I nod my head in agreement. Her suggestion is soon forgotten as we are both intoxicated by one another. I sit up, allowing her to quickly remove my t-shirt as her lips begin their descent from my mouth, to my neck, my chest, my navel... she pushes me back into the cushions and slowly pulls my boxers off.
Needless to say, I am no longer left wondering what else her lips could do... it was mind-numbing. She doesn’t let me return the favor, though, even after she’s changed into something more comfortable and we’ve moved to her bed.
“Tomorrow,” she tells me. The suspense might kill me, but I will die happy in anticipation. I try to change her mind as she lies in my arms by telling her what I’d like to do to her, but she remains steadfast in her decision to make me wait.
“It’s after midnight,” I plead. “It is tomorrow. I don’t think I can wait any longer to kiss you,” I touch her, lightly, over her cotton pants, “to make your body writhe with pleasure and your voice holler out my name.” I smile at the thought and kiss her wondrous lips. “I just want to share this with you.”
“Nathaniel, you’re awful,” she jokes. “Stop making yourself crazy... here, let me get your mind off of it.”
I don’t fight it, taking advantage of all she’s willing to give me. She’s far too generous, and I am far too lucky.
Mind-numbing. That�
��s the only phrase I can use to describe it. I literally think that I blacked out for a few seconds.
When I wake up in the morning, I see that Kiersten is sleeping, her apartment very warm. She changed clothes sometime during the night, now simply dressed in a small t-shirt and her panties. Something catches my eye from across the room. Roscoe is sitting by the front door, shaking. I get up slowly, trying not to wake her, and pull on my jeans and my button-up shirt, loosely buttoned. I find Roscoe’s leash and snap it to his collar.
Quietly, we exit the apartment. Taking her dog out is the least I can do for her, in exchange for what she did for me last night. Twice. I walk him for a few blocks to a coffee shop I’ve never visited before, and I order two lattes and grab a newspaper. After Roscoe has been taken care of, we go back to her apartment. He walks over to a cupboard in the kitchen and starts sniffing at it. I peek inside to see a bag full of dog food. Spying his bowl in a corner, I pour some food in. He eats it all in a matter of minutes. I carry the coffee to the nightstand and lie back down on the bed, gently. The smell of the coffee wakes Kiersten up shortly before Roscoe finds a way up on the bed and starts attacking her with his tongue. Lucky dog.
“Roscoe, do you need to go outside?”
“Already done,” I tell Kiersten. “Latte?”
She sits up and stretches, reaching for the coffee. “Wow, thank you.”
“Paper?”
“Sure,” she says, grabbing the front section from the pile I had laid on the bed. I find the arts section and skim the articles before finding the crossword puzzle. I’m not sure why I torture myself with the Saturday puzzle, but I always try. Never finish.
“V-E-N-T-R-I-C-L-E.” Kiersten spells out to me.
“Huh?”
“Ventricle. Thirty-seven down. Then thirty-seven across is ‘vortex’.” I give her a sideways glance.
“Here, can you finish it?” I pass the page on to her and hand her my pencil.
She laughs. “Honey, I can do these while I sleep. Where’s a pen?”
“Now, you don’t need to rub it in.” She digs in the nightstand and pulls out a pen. She barely has time to read before she starts filling in the squares.
“Wow,” I comment. “While you sleep, you say...”
“Yep,” she says confidently.
“What about while I do this?” I kiss her wrist and travel up her arm, pushing the t-shirt sleeve back so I could press my lips to her delicate shoulder.
“I’m much stronger than you,” she jokes. “That doesn’t affect me.”
“And this?” I trace her collarbone with my tongue, stopping just below her ear, kissing gently.
“Huh,” she says thoughtfully. “No, but you are getting in the way.” She nudges me to the side as she continues to write down answers, one word quickly following the other. I start to watch her fill in the blanks, sipping my coffee.
“Impressive,” I say when she completes the final word. “I feel emasculated now, but I’m impressed.”
She laughs. “You feel emasculated because I finished the puzzle, or because I’m spurning your advances?”
“Both,” I tell her. “I know a way you can make it up to me, though.”
“Would this help?” she says as she stands up and takes off the t-shirt she was sleeping in, leaving her breasts exposed.
“It would if you came over here,” I hold my hand out to her. Instead of coming back to bed, she wads up the t-shirt and throws it in my face.
“Mind if I take a shower?” she asks.
I remain buried under the t-shirt, laughing, frustrated. “No, go ahead,” I mumble, the brief vision of her breasts swimming dizzily through my mind. I sigh and get up, moving the mess of newspaper pages off the bed and onto a nearby chair. I walk across the room, touching the window to feel the heat of the day penetrate through. There isn’t a cloud in the sky. In the reflection of the window, I see a figure standing across the room. I turn around to see Kiersten wearing a sexy pair of silk boxers that are too big for her body. They barely hang on to her left hip, her hand fighting to keep them up.
“That look is all wrong on you,” I laugh, crossing the room to meet her. “Let me help.” I pick her up, flipping her over my shoulder, and without the grasp of her hand, the shorts quickly fall to the floor. “Oops.” Kiersten nervously giggles but doesn’t struggle. I carefully lay her down on the bed.
“Now?” I ask her, kneeling over her, hopeful, her naked body firm, skin smooth, lips moist, eyes calling out to me.
“Yes, Nathaniel, now,” she smiles. Anxiously but slowly, I am finally able to return the favor.
When I finish and her breathing finally returns to normal, she comments, “You’ve had a lot of practice at that, haven’t you? Most men don’t know a woman’s body quite like that.”
“Books,” I joke. “Water?” I hop up and nearly run to the kitchen, anxious to return to the bed with her.
“Please,” she answers, obstructing my view of her unspeakably sexy body with a sheet.
“No, don’t hide from me,” I plead, crawling on the bed. “We’re not finished, are we?” She laughs. I kiss her lips, and then take the sheets between my teeth and tentatively pull them back, revealing her legs, parted and welcoming.
~ * ~
A few days later, after my run, I decide to stop by Emi’s apartment again. I knock and wait, but I don’t hear anything inside. I don’t guess she’s home at the moment. I pull out my phone and send a simple text to her. “Like ya, Em.” I know I won’t get a response, but I still want her to know I am thinking about her.
After a day of inspired painting, I look over everything I’ve done. I’m feeling strangely conflicted, and it’s coming out in my work. I did three pieces this afternoon. They all have elements that are in stark contrast to one another. One’s a piece with colors, vibrant orange and a deep blue. Another pairs shapes, one with flowing curves, the other with serrated edges. The other is a mixed media piece, comprised mainly of scraps of silk and sandpaper.
I know it’s coming from the inner struggle I’m having: Kiersten versus Emi. What I’m doing with Kiersten versus what I still feel for Emi. Yes, I feel some connection to Kiersten, but my emotions for her still don’t rival those that I feel for my best friend. For so long, she has been my dream, my ideal. I don’t want to give up on that– on her– but every day that passes without her takes me one step further away from that dream. And with Kiersten, things have happened so quickly. I’m sure if I wanted, I could learn to love her.
After cleaning up, I leave to pick her up. We go to the market, selecting some ingredients so she can make dinner for us. I walk a few paces ahead of her to try to catch the elevator for us, our hands full.
“Nate,” Marcus greets me warmly. “Emi came by.” I stop dead in my tracks.
“What?” I ask him, feeling happier than I have in weeks at this news. “When?”
“Just about a half-hour ago. She said she’d stop by another day.”
“Who, baby?” Kiersten asks, catching up to me.
Marcus looks at me apologetically. “No, it’s okay,” I assure him. “My best friend stopped by,” I explain to her nonchalantly, “that’s all.”
“Oh,” she says simply.
“Thanks, Marcus. Have a good night.”
“You, too, Nate. Miss,” he smiles at Kiersten. After we continue on to the elevator, I realize I should have introduced them to one another, but the thought never even occurred to me.
“She?” Kiersten says as soon as the elevator doors close. “Her?”
“Yeah. Her name is Emi.” I sense her worry already.
“Emi?”
“Yeah. We’ve known each other since high school. Just friends.”
“Just friends?”
“Yes, Kiersten. Just friends.” She’s silent until we get upstairs to my loft. “Kiersten?” I ask, closing the door behind us and taking her shopping bags from her.
“I’m not sure I can share you with another woman,” she
says. I laugh, assuming incorrectly that she’s kidding. “I’m serious.”
“Oh.” More silence as I begin to unload the groceries. “Well, we haven’t spoken in, probably two months. I don’t think there will be a whole lot of sharing going on.”
“Best friends who don’t talk for two months?”
“We had a bit of a fight. We just haven’t been seeing eye-to-eye on things lately.”
“That’s too bad,” Kiersten says with a tinge of sarcasm in her voice. “Nathaniel, I don’t believe that men and women can be friends,” she explains. “I don’t think it’s possible.”
“Kiersten, it is... We are... What, you don’t have any guys friends?” I laugh a little.
“Not a single one.” I’m a little shocked by this, but admittedly feel a sense of relief. I understand how she feels, but if she knew the whole story– knew how angry Emi was– she wouldn’t be insecure.
“Well, maybe if you tried, you’d realize it’s possible,” I encourage her.
“That’s not gonna work,” she says plainly.
“Well, you don’t need to worry about her.” And even as the words escape my lips, my heart pounds and my mind can’t stop wondering why Emi stopped by. I can’t wait to find out. “Let’s get dinner started,” I tell her, not wanting to waste a second of the night. I focus all of my energy into cooking and showing Kiersten plenty of affection while we make dinner. I think I’ve calmed her down as we sit down to eat.
“Can we talk a little more about your friend?” she asks, taking a bite.
“Of course. My life is an open book.”
“I don’t really want to know about her.”
“Oh, okay... then... what did you want to talk about?”
“Are you going to see her?”
“I’ll probably call her... see why she came by. We don’t have any definite plans, though.”
“I don’t like it,” she says.