Lies of Love

by Hannovah

  “I just love this man,” she proclaimed.

  Joshua all but blushed.

  Presently, Ashley got up out of the comfort of Joshua’s lap, and said, “I’m going outside to take a smoke this is my last habit to break I no longer drink or do drugs.”

  Alright, Ashley, TMI. I had no idea you had these problems.

  “I have a five o’clock class,” Joshua announced to us after his eyes returned from following the jiggles of Ashley’s exposed butt cheeks. “Could Ashley stay here until I get back?”

  “Of course!” I answered. When it came to education I was all in.

  Soon, Joshua departed for his class, and I struck up a conversation with Ashley. “So, are you looking for a job?”

  “Yes I need to start working soon Josh is such a darling to have me come here to be with him but I must find a job to assist with the bills I want to start looking but Josh says that there is no rush but I’m not used to people paying for my living expenses I only feel comfortable when I pay for my things myself my mother raised me to be independent Miami is new to me and it could be scary but Joshua will show me the ropes.”

  Yes, she had a forked tongue, like a lizards tongue. Poor thing, I thought, she may have been in a bizarre accident.

  “How old are you, Ashley?”

  “Twenty-one.”

  I hoped she did not notice my shock; she looked weather-beaten for twenty-one. “What kind of work do you do?”

  “I’m in customer service I like customer service I’m good at it I have done other jobs like waiting tables car wash hair dressing but mostly I prefer customer service that should be easy to find because customer service allows me to work at many different places tomorrow I will start looking around again I usually find jobs very quickly in Orlando and Daytona sometimes I find work right on the spot they interview me and hire me right away I don’t know about Miami but I‘ll keep my hopes up these days I’m practicing a positive attitude brings positive results and it has been working as an example I’ve been dreaming and thinking about getting the right guy and along comes Josh he really is the right guy for me and my mom says that . . .”

  I noticed that this girl does not come up for air. She is a rambler – a chatterbox. Note to self: stop asking her questions. I could not spend the entire evening listening to her going on and on and on, so to encourage her to hush, I decided to watch a movie. I let her choose, and she chose Fatal Attraction. Brandon set it up for us and took his seat on the sofa next to me.

  Ashley, on the recliner, spread her knees wide open and, yoga-like, brought her legs up onto the seat until the soles of both feet were touching together. Then she leaned back like come-and-get-it, seemingly unaware of her provocative posture. She was comfy, but I was not.

  I started to wonder about her upbringing. I mean, gosh, didn’t her mom ever tell her to sit like a lady and keep her legs closed or crossed? She was already dressed in really short shorts, I mean beyond Daisy-Dukes. If Brandon should walk past her, he would get a good impression of what her Promised Land looked like.

  I was not enjoying the movie because I was totally absorbed with Ashley’s attire and posture on the recliner. This girl was loose. It would have been alright to sit like that if she were in jeans, but she was wearing next to nothing. Anyway, I kept my thoughts to myself and pretended to focus on the movie.

  After a while Ashley got up, excusing herself to take another smoke break. Brandon sneaked a peep at her behind and I saw him do it. He remained cool as cucumber, but I was sure that her quivering bottom had turned him on. I had to find out.

  I leaned my shoulder to snuggle into him and then I grabbed his crotch.

  “Aay-aay!” he gasped, nearly jumping out of the sofa.

  But it was too late for him. I had already collected all the hard evidence I needed.

  “You like her?” I asked coyly.

  “Don’t be silly,” he answered, embarrassed. “Erection don’t mean affection.”

  I knew deep down inside that he was right, so I rubbed his shoulder understandingly. Soon Ashley returned and resumed her pose in the recliner.

  As Fatal Attraction concluded, I was wondering what next to do with this vixen when someone knocked at our front door. It was a gentleman who had promised to purchase our freezer which we had advertised for sale. Brandon led the buyer to the utility room to inspect the appliance, after which we began removing the items that were left at the bottom of it. Ashley insisted on helping out and I thought it was very sweet of her.

  I took the moment to leave and write out a receipt for the transaction, and when I got back, the freezer was being carried out by the men. I followed them and gave the buyer a copy of his receipt.

  A little after eight p.m., Joshua returned from his class and Ashley jumped onto him and wrapped her legs around his waist. She was as happy to see him as a dog was to see its master, and she kissed him like if there was no tomorrow. Subsequently, she allowed him to get into the recliner and she sat on him sideways with her legs spread apart.

  Joshua discreetly closed his girl’s plump legs and turned her away from our view.

  Thanks Joshua.

  When affections between the lovebirds were temporarily halted, I enquired from Joshua, “Which class has you out this late?”

  He bowed his head. “Well, it’s two classes ordered by the court.”

  “What . . . what two classes?”

  “Remember the incident at Joanne’s place that night when I smashed the window?” He sighed. “Well, she took me to court, and I have to take classes in Anger Management and Alcoholics Anonymous.”

  “Ah-hah. You got off easy with the judge,” Brandon stated. “He could have given you jail time.”

  “Yes, I know. But Joanne could have told them that I was not violent. She was married to me for almost seven years and I never laid a hand on her. And she knows that I’m not an alcoholic. I told the judge that, and I pleaded with Joanne to let the judge know, but she just sat there in the court, looking away from me and not saying anything. That is not justice: that is malice, man!”

  “Aahh. This too will pass,” Brandon said. “Nothing is forever but the Earth and sky.”

  The pair got up and readied themselves to depart, and we escorted them to their car.

  “Have a safe drive up the road?” I said as we hugged goodbye.

  Joshua responded, “I have a friend at The Gentlemen’s Club who I want Ashley to meet before we go home.”

  We watched the young ones drive away.

  While walking back to our door, I mentioned to Brandon, “Ashley seems a little loose to me by the way she behaves. And did you see how she jumped on Josh to greet him? That’s not very ladylike. Even though he may be lonely and needs somebody, I don’t like her for him. I hope that this relationship doesn’t last. He can do much, much, better.”

  “She’s a stripper, you know.”

  “What?”

  “Ah-hah,” he nodded. “She allowed me and the man who bought the freezer a view of her poon-tang.”

  “What?!” I stopped in my tracks.

  “Oh yeah, we had a good look. Remember when she offered to help us empty the freezer? Well, she bent forward into the freezer, lifted up one leg high like a Ballerina, and boldly showed us almost everything.”

  I stared at my husband in disbelief.

  “Ah-hah, and some of her whiskers were growing back,” he continued, trying hard to conceal a smile. “She bent over three times, fully well knowing that we were right behind her.”

  “That does not make her a stripper.”

  “True, but I have a feeling that Joshua is going to the club to find a job for her. You might not know, but The Gentlemen’s Club is a strip club.”

  “No, Ray. She told me that she was in customer service.”

  “And she ain’t lying.”

  We laughed and shut the door behind us.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Burning Bush finally came home from tour.

  It was
just for a few days, and D Luv Joint was their destination party spot. I planned to do a little cooking for them because I knew that the band was longing for some authentic, good food after eating mostly junk while on tour. And Stephen, wanting to have a real break from handling music, asked his father, his brother, and Joshua to do the deejaying.

  It seemed like Burning Bush, Stephen’s punk-rock band, was eager for this pool party because it was only one thirty p.m., and I was in the middle of cooking when two carloads of people screeched up into the driveway. Brandon opened up the door and let in the band members and their girlfriends. Each of the four musicians was armed with two six-packs of beer, and their ladies with light snacks, and they unloaded their goodies on the kitchen table.

  “Boy, you got smaller,” Brandon said to Stephen, grabbing him in a bear hug.

  “I know, Dad.” The men smiled and patted each other’s back.

  The contrast was striking; a bald-headed medium-sized older man next to a thin, dreadlocked, younger adult. It was the perfect example of a generation gap. Stephen is a mirror image of what his dad looked like when we were dating, except that back then Brandon sported a curly afro.

  Stephen left his dad and embraced me, and in my arms he really felt like he had lost some weight.

  “Oh God son, you look so thin,” I said.

  Then I hugged his girlfriend, Heather, who had just left off greeting Brandon to come over to me. She was of the same exotic mix like Maxwell’s girl, Lia.

  “Mom, I smell something good cooking in here,” Stephen commented. “Lemme guess . . . pork chops, baked macaroni-and-cheese, and broccoli-and-rice.”

  “Your favorite.”

  “And I think I smell tea brewing, too.” He surveyed the stove as he spoke.

  “Um-hmm. I know you boys love my raspberry tea.”

  “Ms. Ray,” said the drummer who was nick-named Shadow because of his extremely dark complexion. “When we make it big, I will buy you a restaurant, and the only meals on the menu will be yours.”

  “Thank you, Shadow. I look forward to it.” I laughed and hugged him. “Thank you.”

  Next to pay his respects was the bass player called String because he was even more thin and nashy-looking than Stephen, and I was sure that his diet was only ganja.

  The last was the tall keyboard player who had to duck each time he passed through a doorway and he told people that he was five-foot twenty. I did the math; that made him six-foot eight.

  The posse made a procession through the den and into the backyard with their goodies and drinks, and soon I heard splashing, laughter, and music.

  Later on Maxwell and Lia showed up, followed by Joshua with Ashley in one hand and his steel pan in the other. After they greeted everyone at poolside, Ashley returned to the kitchen to watch and learn how to cook.

  Her make-up was extravagant but attractive.

  “I’m so tired from work,” she said.

  “Oh, I did not know that you were working.”

  “Yes I started three days ago.”

  I thought it best not to ask where.

  She said to me, “My bikini bottom’s a T-back and it may not be appropriate for the party do you have a pair of shorts that I could borrow?”

  Nodding, I smiled, happy that she showed some class.

  She followed me to my bedroom where I rummaged through a drawer and took out a pair of grey-and-black shorts that I had outgrown. I left her in there and returned to my cooking.

  A minute later, she came out dressed in the shorts and, although it was decent, she still looked smoking hot. She took a seat on a kitchen stool to observe all my cooking steps.

  “Ashley,” I said, “go on out and enjoy the party, girl. I can give you a crash course in cooking some other time.”

  She smiled like a child and left. Sweet girl.

  Several minutes later, Stephen came into the kitchen and whispered to me, “Mom, do you like Joshua’s girl?”

  “She seems okay . . . rather free spirited . . . but I don’t know her very well. Why?”

  “She talks too much, or it could be the alcohol. But she is just talk, talk, talk, talk, talk. It’s unbearable. Well, I just met her, so I should give her time. But she is out there cussing like a sailor too.”

  As Stephen left, Joshua came in, headed straight for the pots and began sampling the food. He said to me, “Edna, I want to apologize for Ashley’s behavior. I’m trying to train her as to how she must act among certain company.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked, pretending to be ignorant.

  “Well, her language is not the best, especially after a few drinks.”

  “Don’t worry, Josh.”

  He pinched of a piece of sweet potato pie and left.

  Suddenly, there was a loud roar outside above the music, like from a crowd that had just seen a touchdown at a football game.

  Then Stephen’s girlfriend, Heather, stormed inside and plunked herself down on a sofa in the den. She grabbed a decorative pillow and, hugging it close, she began rocking back and forth.

  I went over to her instinctively. “You’re alright?” I asked.

  “Oh, I’m fine,” she answered and then looked away.

  I could tell that she was perturbed about something, but did not want to talk about it, and judging from the comments of the two people who had come in previously, I suspected it had something to do with Ashley. I patted Heather on her back and returned to the kitchen, and after a while, she got up and rejoined the fun outside.

  Done cooking, I rounded up a couple of hands to help carry out the food, and I took a position under the shade of D Luv Joint. Stephen and his rambunctious friends were competing in high jumps into the deep end of the pool by scaling a stack of chairs that grew higher after each participant. What was extremely amusing to me was that everyone who claimed that it would be so easy, ended up knocking the chairs down and bruising themselves in the process. Boys will be boys; what else can I say?

  Then Joshua and Brandon entertained us with a steel-pan and guitar duet, playing a medley of favorites from the nineties. They gave only one performance because Joshua could not concentrate fully; Ashley kept interrupting him for nonsense.

  The party went on until close to midnight when our guests began to say their goodbyes. But Heather and Stephen lingered a little to help with the clean-up.

  “I don’t know about that Ashley,” Heather fumed when we were done and sitting in the den. “That girl is crazy!”

  “Why do you say that?”

  Heather explained: “She came out of the pool and while the music was playing, she began to give Joshua a lap dance, grinding her butt all over his crotch. Everyone was watching. Then, when she was through with that, she began to wine and pull down her shorts and thong. I couldn’t believe my eyes. This was not that type of party! In addition, Daddy Brandon was out there! Where is the respect? I was in shock, and I was disgusted because the bottom piece kept coming down lower and lower.”

  “So, everyone was watching?” I asked, shooting a glance at my husband.

  “Yes. Everything stood still. She started to shake her booty and the men began to cheer. But when I saw the first pubic hairs, I thought I had seen enough and that’s when I came inside.”

  “I can’t believe this,” I remarked, slapping my thigh. “Did she take it off?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t think so. When I got back out there, she was sitting and eating. I could tell that Joshua was embarrassed, but was playing it off well.”

  This is ridiculous! What sort of young girl has Josh brought to us?

  Brandon leaned back on his recliner and remarked with a smug smile, “I told you that Ashley is a stripper.”

  “No.” I said, “She is not.”

  “Yes, she is. She works at a strip club called Kamel Toe. She told me so herself.” I gasped. Brandon continued, “She even showed me the bruises on her feet from performing in them plastic, high heel shoes.”

  Exhaling, I nodded. So Bran
don’s hunch was right.

  Finally, when everyone departed, I headed for the shower and to my surprise, Brandon joined in. He had not showered with me at the house in years. He only behaved like this in the hotels when we went on vacation.

  “Ray? What’s up?

  “Can’t you see?” he said, smiling proudly.

  I sure did. It was unmistakable. And it reminded me of a boxer posing with his arm fixed in a rigid uppercut stance. I smiled, impressed with his attention, and from the reassurance that I still had the power to make a man’s thing become hard like bamboo.

  But then I got to wondering, Why was this night different? Oho! I figured it out: Ashley’s performance. I was no longer impressed. I was vexed. Why? Maybe it was jealousy, envy, or immaturity. I don’t know. But that’s just the way I was wired. Well, Mr. Gentleman, tonight-tonight I will teach you a lesson. After all, I am a professor.

  Brandon took the soap and began to lather me.

  “Don’t touch me!” I snapped, and continued my business.

  “Why? You don’t want the candy-cane?”

  “Not tonight.”

  “You look like you could use it.”

  “Me? Or Ashley?”

  I knew my words were colder than any cold shower he ever had, because from the corner of my eye, I saw the candy-cane going down slowly for the count . . . T.K.O. Yeah, take that.

  I left him in the shower and went to bed. Next thing I knew, he was there beside me, jamming his semi-hard tool against my butt and breathing on my neck.

  “Oh God. Eddie, just lemme put it in. You don’t have to do anything.”

  “Go take it out on Ashley!” I said. Scrambling off the bed, I marched into the guest bedroom and locked the door behind me.

  He got over it. And days later, so did I.

  I had become familiar with the sound of the old Camry pulling into our driveway; so one evening when I heard it, I automatically opened up our front door for Joshua and his girl. The happy duo came in and Ashley presented me with a brown paper bag with something heavy in it.