The word had a certain flow to it, sounded good and all, but it didn’t do justice to what she was doing to me.
I was on a Latin kick. I mumbled, “E pluribus unum.”
It was the motto found on the Great Seal of the United States, along with annuit coeptis and novus ordo seclorum, and adopted by an Act of Congress in 1782. While annuit coeptis and novus ordo seclorum appeared on the reverse side of the great seal, e pluribus unum appeared on the obverse side of the seal, the image of which was used as the national emblem of the United States, and as appeared on official documents such as passports. It also appeared on the seal of the president and in the seals of the vice president of the United States, of the United States Congress, of the United States House of Representatives, of the United States Senate and on the seal of the United States Supreme Court. Never codified by law, it was considered a de facto motto of the United States until 1956 when the United States Congress passed an act adopting “In God We Trust” as the official motto.
I mumbled again, “E pluribus unum.”
Her head bobbed in a good steady rhythm. Good loving made you lose your mind. Good loving made you speak in Latin and remember dates and historical facts from Wikipedia entries.
E pluribus unum was Latin for “Out of Many, One.”
My wife-to-be was the ONE.
I gripped her shoulders. A warm rush was rising up from my ankles. I was about to come. I told her so. My legs started to tremble. My grip on her shoulders intensified. I arched my hips and let the explosion tear from me.
I growled, “Shit. Fuck.”
I came for what felt like twenty minutes. That release left me feeling spent. I was completely hollowed out, devoid of anything. I wondered how my seeds tasted.
Good, I supposed, because my wife-to-be swallowed every one of them. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Her lips were wet. There seemed to be a hint of gold in her hazel eyes. She studied me for the longest time without saying a word.
I couldn’t say a word. It was a struggle to catch my breath.
I’d never, ever, come like that before.
She said, “I said Mr. Marcus, I should have said Lexington Steele.”
Lexington Steele was known for his explosive screams when he ejaculated.
I managed, “That was intense.”
She said, “Love has its bumpy moments. Moments when you’re sure it’s dead, or dying.”
I didn’t understand the reason for that brief statement, but I nodded.
She added, “I love you, Michael. You are all I have.”
I said, “I love you, too.”
The words felt good on my tongue. As if they were becoming less of a lie every time I said them. That scared me.
“Michael?”
“Yes?”
“I need to ask you something…something else. And I need you to be completely honest with me.”
She’d made me feel ecstasy I didn’t know was possible.
She could have asked me anything at that moment and I would have answered.
I said, “Go ahead.”
“You were dreaming. Before you woke up earlier and had that…your difficulty breathing.”
“Okay.”
“And you mentioned some names. I was going to wake you but I didn’t. I just watched over you. The look on your face was one I can’t describe. It was pain and pleasure at the same time.”
Fellatio.
I said, “Okay.”
“You love me, Michael?”
“Yes. You know I do.”
She hugged herself, shivered. “Jacqueline, Dawn and Nikki. You kept mentioning them in your sleep. Who are those women, Michael?”
CHAPTER 13
JACQUELINE
I needed a man to satisfy my soul. As hard as it was for me to admit, that’s what I needed, wanted. I needed a life to live, to enjoy and to cherish. I stood in my uncle’s bathroom, naked, raw from the sex with Manuel, eyeing myself in the mirror. Everything was coming undone. Everything wasn’t all right. I had a conversation with myself. I knew I was closing in on madness, and I didn’t fight it. It wouldn’t be the first time; it probably wouldn’t be the last, either.
I asked myself, “How many men are you going to sleep with, Jacqueline?”
I answered myself, “There haven’t been many.”
“You ran out of fingers a while ago. That’s not that many?”
“I’m happy.”
“Are you?”
“Yes.”
“Don’t you want to settle down? Don’t you want children?”
“If it happens, it happens. I’m not pressing it.”
“You sound so convincing. Your words do, at least. But your voice got weak.”
“It didn’t.”
“Trust me, it did.”
“Trust doesn’t live here anymore.”
“And why not?”
“Do I even have to answer that?”
“Okay. But now life goes on.”
“I’m going on. That’s what I’m doing.”
“Don’t you worry about being used up?”
“I have worth.”
“I don’t doubt it. But do you know what your worth is?”
“I’m…”
“You’re what?”
“Valuable.”
“That’s generic.”
“I’m precious.”
“Like a jewel?”
“Absolutely, that’s correct.”
“Don’t take this the wrong way, but, besides your pussy…what?”
“You’re disgusting. I resent that.”
“I’m a realist.”
“That’s how you see me? I’m nothing except a sex object?”
“Don’t go getting all emotional.”
“Is that what I am? Is that how you see me?”
“You tell me. The floor’s yours.”
“I have a degree.”
“Did you use it with the Mexican?”
“Screw you.”
“Christina Davis has thirty credits toward a master’s.”
“Who’s Christina Davis?”
“The madam of that Wicked Models prostitution ring that got busted.”
“Whatever.”
“They offered beautiful multilingual girls $1,600 an hour.”
“I don’t want to hear about that.”
“Think she was studying psychology. She was using her degree about as much as you’re using yours.”
“Why are you doing this to me?”
“Just want you to think.”
“I do.”
“Not enough, evidently, sweetheart.”
“You’re wrong. Too much. I think too much.”
“Okay.”
“You see this? See what you’ve done?”
“Didn’t want you to get sad. I’m sorry.”
“I know. You wanted me to think. Well, I am. I am.”
“And? What have you come up with?”
“He destroyed me.”
“Todd?”
“Who else?”
“You let him. You gave him that power.”
“I had dreams.”
“Shit, somebody else can take your dreams?”
“Yes.”
“If you say so.”
“I had dreams. I had a career. You don’t understand.”
“He messed your career up? You’re blaming Todd for that. You were on the Internet more than Vonage ads.”
“Connecting with my husband, learning about what was important to him. I was trying to strengthen my marriage.”
“It worked, huh?”
“You’re so sarcastic and cruel.”
“How about this? You can’t handle this conversation. Let’s stop. Go clean the Mexican’s come out of you.”
“Oh my God! You’re disgusting. He wore a condom, idiot.”
“There’s no need to call me names. His essence is in you regardless. So are all the others.”
“You hurt me so much.”
“I love you. I want to see you do well. I want to see you happy.”
“You think I don’t want the same? Here, here, you happy?”
“Calm down. What are you doing?”
“Cleaning out the essence of all the men I’ve slept with.”
“You’re gonna need some Comet and Brillo pads for that, girl.”
“Fuck you.”
“I’m sorry, that wasn’t nice. You’re rubbing yourself raw. Stop that.”
“I am raw. I’m exposed, naked, infected, defeated.”
“You’re a hot mess.”
“I agree. I’m that, too.”
“I didn’t mean that. I’m sorry.”
“Stop apologizing. You mean everything you’ve said.”
“What are we going to do?”
“Not we. Me.”
“What are you going to do, then? You can’t continue like this.”
“I don’t know. I don’t know.”
“It’ll get better.”
“Will it really? And what makes you think that? Give me specifics. Examine my life and give me the evidence that things will get better, please…Oh, now you don’t have anything to say…. Will it get better?…Answer me…Will it really?…Answer me, dammit.”
CHAPTER 14
DAWN
Corey fingered the room key. He didn’t look in my direction and I didn’t take my eyes off of him. He flipped the key over and over in his hand. I imagine he did the same thing with the decision that was before him. Should he go back to the hotel with me? Should he leave the restaurant and go back to his office and pretend this horrible day had never happened? That he’d never sat down to lunch with me, that I hadn’t told him the truth about Tanya and Walter, that his sister-in-law hadn’t propositioned him.
I asked, “What are you thinking?”
He said, “A whole heapa things, Dawn.”
Jamaican. His mother was from that gorgeous island, and every now and then I heard pieces of her when he spoke. It was rare, and very subtle. He’d definitely been Americanized. Jamaican patois, the dialect of his homeland, was something remembered from his mother, not a part of him. Usually. But every now and then, it came back like driftwood. I bet Tanya wasn’t in tune enough with her husband to recognize it when it did.
But I was in sync with Corey.
He still hadn’t looked at me.
I said, “Why don’t we go to the hotel and think.”
He sniffed out a laugh. “Get a lot of thinking done there. Right?”
I said, “I want to touch you, Corey. I want you to touch me. I can’t even lie about that. I want to feel you. I want to feel you inside of me. I want to have to wash your scent off of me later. When I look in your eyes from here on out, I want it to be a deeper look. I want the connection between us to be deeper.”
He said, “How long?”
“I’ve wanted you since the first time I met you.”
He looked at me then, looked at me like I was Homey the Clown from those old In Living Color shows. “Not that. I meant how long have you known about Tanya and Walter.”
They were elephants in the room. All the passion I felt for Corey would go unfulfilled until I dealt with them.
I said, “Since right after Terry left.”
Corey didn’t react, let that information settle in his mind.
I said, “Something else you should know, Corey.”
“What?” His voice lacked anything. He was worn down by what I’d told him already.
I said, “I was involved with Walter, too.”
He made a noise, let his displeasure show without words.
I added, “Walter comforted me during that rough time after Terry left. We fell into something. He cut it off pretty quickly. Told me he was sorry for getting involved with me like that. Told me the feelings he had for Tanya. The feelings she had for him.”
Corey swallowed. “They love each other?”
I said, “It’s dysfunctional.”
“Is it love?” His gaze was intense.
I couldn’t lie to him.
I said, “It’s worse than love. Love only goes so deep. What they have is bottomless.”
“Bottomless.” It wasn’t a question.
“I’m sorry to have to tell you all this.”
He nodded, frowned. “Everybody’s sorry. World is full of sorry folks.”
He disappeared, still at the table but so far away at the same time. I didn’t know what to do to help him. And I wanted to help. Frustration had me lost in silence, wordless. Trying to come up with something that would ease him.
Corey broke the silence, said, “April fourteenth.”
“Tanya’s birthday,” I noted. I could still speak. Good.
He held up the room key. “The room number is four fourteen. That’s symbolic, don’t you think? I would think this isn’t a coincidence, Dawn.”
I looked at the key, saw what he saw. It took the kind of pain he was feeling to catch on to such inane things.
I repeated, “Tanya’s birthday.”
He asked, “Why do you two hate each other so much? I don’t see any love. Why do you compete so hard? Why take it so far that you even share…?”
Men, he wanted to say. But he didn’t.
I thought of Clarence and Jo Min. Said, “We were bred to hate one another. It’s in our DNA. That’s an unfortunate but truthful answer, Corey.”
He reached across the table, picked up his glass of pineapple Sumol, took a long swallow. Then he sat back in his seat and looked off into the distance. I decided against disturbing his thought process. I wouldn’t speak unless I was spoken to. I wouldn’t interrupt his misery. I wouldn’t intrude on his thoughts. I would let him figure everything out on his own. That was the best way to play it.
Finally, he said something to me. His voice was suddenly gruff, as if he smoked a pack of Newports a day. I couldn’t understand the words he’d just spoken to me.
I said, “Repeat that, Corey.”
He looked at me hard again. His gaze was so intense. He said, “Let’s celebrate my lovely wife’s birthday. You and I.”
“That mean…?”
He nodded. “Let’s go ahead and use this room key.”
Corey held the door of the room open for me.
I stepped under the bridge his arm created.
I surveyed the room. Our den of sin. There was a potted fern in one corner, king-size bed, leather swivel chair, desk with an Internet connection station, everything decorated in a soft paisley color. It was nice. I said so. I’m not sure Corey even noticed. He was still somewhere else. I’d draw him in to me. It might take a moment, but I’d do it. I was more than capable of seducing him.
He said, “Let me call my AA, let her know I’m done for the day. Okay, Dawn?”
“Okay.”
“I need to check e-mail on my laptop. I’ll be fast. And then we can…”
He didn’t finish the thought.
I didn’t need him to. I knew very well what we’d do then. I had been imagining it for as long as I knew Corey.
I said, “Want me to give you some space? I can go down to the lounge. Have a few drinks. You can hit me on my cell when you’re ready for me.”
He said, “Don’t go wandering off.”
“I wouldn’t think of it.” My smile was the color of honey then, too, I’m sure. I was feeling better than I’d felt in recent memory, maybe even ever.
We were flirting with one another as if we actually belonged to one another. It felt good, natural. I was used to it already.
I turned and headed for the door. I was at the threshold when Corey called out, “This is all just to hurt Tanya, Dawn. I want you to be clear on that.”
Surprise clutched my heart, held it with a G.I. Joe kung fu grip.
It wasn’t about hurting Tanya for me. Not with Corey. It was about something much deeper. It was about Corey. I wanted every part of him for myself. I wanted to love him. I wanted him to love me back.
I said
, “It can be so much more.”
“No. It can’t.”
I moved back into the room, put on a happy face. “Close your eyes.”
“What?”
“Close your eyes.”
He did.
I moved slowly, came up to him.
I said, “Sometimes you see things better in darkness than you do in the light.”
He opened his mouth, was about to speak. I smothered his words with my lips. Tasted his pain with my tongue. At first it was all give on my part. Then I began to get. He gripped the sides of my face. Our tongues made love. He kissed how I always imagined he would. He was on my neck. Soft gentle kisses.
Then my cleavage. Didn’t undo the buttons on my white blouse, didn’t disturb my purple satin bra, just gently kissed the exposed part of my breasts. His hands cupped them. My nipples poked through the soft satin material of my bra. He kissed them, nuzzled them with his nose, licked them through the bra material. I wanted him to take the bra off. Wanted him to undress me.
I fumbled with his belt, undid it, popped the button on his pants, worked down the zipper, got my hand inside his boxers. He was stiff as plywood. Warm as crackling wood. Blood was definitely flowing to his penis.
I whispered, “What do you want?”
“You.”
Better words had never reached my ears.
“What part of me?”
“All of you.”
He fumbled with my jeans, same as I’d done with his pants, but he couldn’t get them open. I moved aside his hands, impatient. “Let me.”
He didn’t say a word.
Watched me like I was a rare piece of art. I danced my childbearing hips out of my jeans. Then I paused so he could appreciate me.
“Mmm. Damn, Dawn. Vickies?”
Victoria’s Secret, of course. That’s all I wore. That and Trashy Lingerie.
Always ready for that intimate moment.
I said, “Satin V-string. You like?”
He bit his lip, smiled coy, moved so close to me I could feel the heat rising off his skin. I was warm to the touch, too. I know because he told me.
His hand was down there, inside my panties.
Two fingers sawing me in half, tracing the lips of my vagina, rubbing my clit, soaking up my moisture. I kept my eyes open. I wanted to see him. He fingered me, kept his eyes open, too. Watched me as intently as I watched him.
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