Over the Hedge: Part 2- The Finale (Lucky in Love)

by Minerva Vesta

  “We still have a few places around the house that still need christened.” Slowly, I circled her right nipple with my index finger until the little bud stood erect underneath her bra and silk top.

  “I can’t imagine where. I feel like we’ve made love in every nook and cranny of this place.”

  “I know there are a few places we’ve missed.”

  “Tell me one,” she challenged, pinching my side.

  “The office,” I answered with a pout I hoped would get her to change her mind.

  “Nope, we’ve done it there, at least three times,” she countered.

  “Yes, but not on your desk or the bay window seat.” I was pretty sure we hadn’t done it on her desk, but there was no doubt that bay window got good use at least twice so far.

  Lashawnda erupted into fits of giggling. She landed a hard peck on my lips and stood up. “Okay, I’ll put it on our to-do list on the fridge.”

  I flopped back on the bed and looked up at the ceiling. I think it might be a good idea to go into work. I caught a glimpse of Lashawnda walking out of the closet with her purse and heels in hand. Jumping up from the bed, I followed her as she made her way out the bedroom door and toward the stairs. She was wearing stockings, and her feet slipped out from underneath her as she took the first step down the stairs. I reacted instantly and grabbed her around the waist, pulling her flush against my chest.

  “You trying to kill me before my time, lady?” I asked, lips against her neck.

  “Not at all,” Lashawnda breathed a sigh of relief. I knew it wasn’t the first time she’d fallen on the stairs, but I didn’t want to see it happen again.

  “You know I’m starting to wonder if it was such a good idea to get a house with stairs.” I peered over her head.

  Lashawnda turned in the circle of my embrace. “I love our house. Besides, I’m sure if given the opportunity, I could trip on a flat surface.”

  “Good point.” I kissed her on the forehead and stepped in front of her, stooping slightly. “Well, let’s make sure you get down safely, today. Hop on.”

  “Oh my gosh, you’re so silly.” She lifted her legs and eased onto my back. My hands slid up underneath her knees and held her tight.

  “You ready, little lady?”

  “Ooh…I love that I’ve got a big strong man at home,” Lashawnda cooed in a fake southern accent. She’s been poking fun at me whenever I call her, ‘my little lady’, telling me I sound country.

  “Keep talking to me like that, and I’m hiking that skirt up right here on these stairs,” I warned.

  Her arms tightened around my shoulder and she kissed me on the side of the face. “Not only is my man physically strong, but his emotional strength is just as good when I need it.”

  I let my hand slide farther up the back of her thigh, fingers grazing her plump cheeks. Lashawnda squealed, tightening her hold around my waist. I carried her all the way down to the kitchen and turned, so she could sit in the chair around the island. I took her shoes from her hand and knelt to secure them. The smell of her perfume was invigorating and much too enticing.

  “There you go,” I said kissing her on the inside of her calf before standing.

  “I love you.” Lashawnda’S broad grin couldn’t be contain.

  I leaned into her and kissed the side of her neck. “If you love me, you’ll stay home with me,” I whispered in her ear.

  “You sound like a five-year-old trying to use my emotions against me.” She swiveled around and hopped off the chair. “Nice try, buddy.”

  I chuckled and followed behind her like a puppet. The way she was swishing her hips back and forth didn’t go unnoticed. The woman knew she had a captive audience. She would pay for her teasing later. I gripped my length to ease the tension in my boxers.

  “Want me to bring anything home?” She took her purse in hand, and I grabbed her tote bag and held the door while she walked outside to the car.

  Lashawnda patted her pockets and fumbled with her purse.

  “Oh, man…have you seen my…” She turned, not even finishing her sentence, because I was holding the keys out to her.

  “You know you do this at least three times a week,” I said smirking at her.

  “Well, that’s why I have you…to keep me on track,” she replied pulling the keys from my fingertips.

  “Is that what you have me for?” I opened the car door, placed her bags inside, and waited for her to get in.

  “Among other things.” She brushed up against me, hand ghosting across the front of my sweatpants—before sliding behind the steering wheel.

  “Shit,” I groaned.

  I leaned down with my hands rested on top of the car. “I’m not even going to play this game with you because our neighbors are good, Christian people. They don’t need to wake up to ass and titties on the front lawn in the morning.”

  “You are so freaky.” Lashawnda smacked me against my stomach playfully.

  “And, you love it.” I pulled her hand to my lips and then kissed her on her upturned mouth. “Have a good day at work…drive safely.”

  It was still early, but humidity was thick in the air. I looked around our yard, making a mental note to get an estimate for tree trimming near the side of the house. Hurricane season was fast approaching, and the last thing I needed was to wake up to a tree in my living room.

  I was heading back inside when I heard a loud scraping noise. I turned to see Lashawnda reversing her car back into the trash can. I took off down the drive and grabbed the victimized recycling container. I tried not to laugh as Lashawnda pressed her forehead into the steering wheel. But all week she’s almost ran into it, today she finally succeeded. I lifted the recycling bin and attempted to press the large dent out.

  “Do you need a ride to work?” I asked, doing my best to keep the laughter out of my voice. There was never a dull day living with this woman.

  “No…I’ll be fine.” Lashawnda sighed and looked up at me.

  “Okay,” I said putting the recycling bin on the opposite side of the driveway—far out of her way. I watched as she completely reversed, anticipating something else to happen. She wasn’t the type of clumsy that would just trip. No, she would trip, fall, scrape her knees, and cause a traffic accident all in one.

  Lashawnda made a show of carefully maneuvering her mid-size sedan from the driveway onto the road. She looked like an elderly tourist that come down for winter. Her seat was pulled all the way up and her breasts were practically sitting against the steering wheel. My shoulders vibrated with suppressed laughter.

  She put on her shades and stuck her middle finger out the window, effectively flipping me off.

  “Later, sweetheart…I promise.” I let my loud booming laughter rip.

  I watched until her brake lights disappeared around the corner; then, walked into the house, slamming the door behind me. I could hear the phone ringing as soon as I walked into the kitchen.

  “Hello,” I said putting the handset to my ear while turning on the coffee maker. This morning I gave Lashawnda a reprieve from making breakfast. After the shit I pulled this weekend, I needed to sweet talk and sex my way back into having her see me as the man of her dreams, not some crazed lunatic with anger issues.

  “So, your punk ass is at home today,” Brent asked.

  I leaned against the counter, plucked an apple from the fruit basket and took a bite. “What’chu want?”

  “Nothing from you. Just calling to see if Lashawnda is still home.”

  “What do you want her for?”

  “I need to get Crystal’s number.”

  “Why don’t you just ask me for it?”

  “Because I’m not trying to deal with the Hulk,” Brent said sarcastically.

  “You got jokes.”

  “Hey, I’m just saying. Man, we’ve been through a few scrapes back in the day. But, bro, I have never seen you get so violent in such a short period. It was like someone flipped a switch.”

  “Shit happens I guess
,” I answered with a nonchalant shrug.

  “Yeah…shit that has to do with Lashawnda. First, the daggers you were shooting at her boy from the band and then that beat down you gave Brian and his friends. What the hell were you trying to prove?”

  I tossed the core of the apple in the trash and grabbed a bottle of water out of the fridge. The whiteboard we kept on the fridge door caught my attention. I picked up the felt-tip pen and wrote: ‘make Lashawnda hoarse on her office desk’ right under ‘replace outside hose’. I snagged another apple and walked into the office I shared with Lashawnda and sat behind my desk.

  “Like I said…shit happens.”

  “Okay, if you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine. But, since I have you on the phone, can you give me Crystal’s number,” Brent asked.

  I chuckled and leaned back in my chair. “Now, why would I do that?”

  “Dude, I know where she works. If I want, I can go down there and get it myself.” Brent reminded me.

  I could picture him leaning back in his office chair with a smug look on his face. But I’d known this man long enough to know he had some ulterior motive for wanting Crystal’s number.

  “Then, why don’t you?” I asked.

  “Because I want to ask her a question…over the phone.” I answered as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

  Dumbest excuse I’ve ever heard from an adult male wanting a woman’s number, I thought.

  Silence stretched between us as I considered his request. The man was my best friend. We’d known each other practically our whole lives. If anyone was good enough to be with Crystal, it was him. But I knew how much Brent wasn’t one for commitment. I also knew where he lived in case he wanted to act out of character. They were both adults. Crystal seemed strong minded enough not to fall for any of his bullshit. Only thing left was to pray that he didn’t do anything to hurt her.

  “Get a pen.” I sat forward in my chair and popped open the bottle of water.

  “Thank you very much.” His derisive tone almost made me change my mind. “It’s not what you think. I like Crystal, but I know she is still recovering from her failed marriage. I’m not trying to get involved with her like that.”

  “I’m not even going to ask you what it is. Because if I hear a peep out of her Brent did this or asshole Brent did that…I’m sending her father after you. And, I will be right behind him. Don’t make me regret this,” I said the last part with amusement in my voice, but I was far from joking around.

  “Just trust me.”

  “Yeah, okay.”

  “Aye, so what did Lashawnda cook this morning?” Brent asked.

  If I wasn’t mistaken, I could have sworn I heard him licking his lips.

  “I was gonna come by, but I figured y’all needed a couple days to recover from you Hulking out,” he finished.

  I scrubbed my hand down my face. Saturday night was a complete cluster fuck, but at least it didn’t end with Lashawnda pissed off at me. On the drive home, I was panicking that she would ask for space or some bullshit like that. I’d never had to pacify anyone after an altercation with some loud mouth asshole. Not that I got into this kind of thing often but being in a relationship made it different.

  “I feared she would see me as someone who could potentially become abusive toward her.” I regretfully admitted.

  Hurting Lashawnda, or any woman, was something that had never crossed my mind. Just knowing that someone had hurt her put me in a very dark place. I’m never one to jump into a situation half-cocked, but this woman had my heart and soul. Losing her or watching her in pain threw all sense of reasoning out the door.

  “So, what did she say?” Brent asked.

  “Just told me not to act so rash next time. Try to use my words instead of my fist,” I answered, working hard to keep the sarcasm from my tone.

  “Yeah okay.” Brent laughed. “No fucking way you’re going to start a powwow with anyone that hurt that woman.”

  “My woman said, ‘I should use my words Brenton’.” I tried my hardest to keep a serious tone but failed miserably. Brent’s laughter grew louder, and I joined in.

  “Fuck that. Don’t let me be there. Cause I’m telling you right now, I’m not waiting on any back-and-forth conversation. I’m doing your job for you and then taking Lashawnda home with me, so I can have homemade biscuits every day.”

  “Knowing you’ll never get the chance of that happening, is the only thing keeping me from coming down to your office and fucking up that pretty face of yours in front of your clients,” I threatened.

  “Hey, I’m just saying,” Brent huffed. “Lashawnda makes the best damn biscuits in the world.”

  “Shit, I know. After the multiple orgasms I gave her yesterday to get back in her good graces, I plan on enjoying those biscuits for the next seventy years or so.”

  “As your best friend, I approve of your approach to conflict resolution.” Brent’s voice rose in an official tone that I’m certain he picked up from one of his father’s political speeches.

  We spoke for a little longer until Brent had to see his first patient. I logged into the remote access for my computer at work. There were a few emails I needed to reply to but nothing pressing. As I started scrolling through the reports for the MIND Project, an alert pinged on my screen. It was an email from our secure messaging center letting me know I had messages to review. It wasn’t common for potential vendors to reach out to me soliciting our business. Often their emails got marked as spam. Unlike my personal email, I got into the habit of actively reading through my work spam messages instead of just emptying the folder. I clicked on the message and waited for it to load.

  “What the fuck?” I gripped the edge of my desk for balance.

  There in high definition was naked pictures of two women kissing. Their faces were out of frame, so I couldn’t figure out who they were. They showed them in various sexual acts. In one of the pictures, one of the women was even wearing a strap-on. Every image I clicked through was even more explicit and raunchier than the one before.

  Who the hell were these women?

  Nothing about their bodies gave me a clue as to who they were. The only naked body I could correctly identify, even if I was blind, deaf, mute, and lost my sense of smell was Lashawnda’s. Her body was a work of art and the only one I’d invested hours of learning every nook and cranny. Hell, I could even tell her when her cycle was starting before she saw it on her calendar.

  My mind went back to the random video message I got during my first week at H&G. Could this be someone I slept with in the past? But, why would they send it to me at work? It wasn’t difficult for someone to find my information online; I am listed in the staff directory on the company’s website. But, why send an explicit video to my work email? If they were trying to reconnect with me, this was not the way to go about it.

  Then a thought occurred to me. I quickly sent a text to Brent, Ian, and Jackson with a picture of the screen.

  Me: Was this one of y’all?

  Jackson: What’s that? Is that porn?

  Ian: Nope wasn’t me

  Brent: No…but if you’ve got their numbers, please pass it along.

  I shook my head. This was the same man asking me for Crystal’s number not more than fifteen minutes ago.

  Jackson: Take a better picture or a video.

  Jackson: I think one of them looks familiar.

  Jackson: I’m almost positive that I recognize one of them.

  Brent: Fucking liar. You’ve only seen one naked woman in real life. If you’re lucky, she’s given you permission to watch a little female-friendly porn.

  Jackson: STFU…I can watch as much porn as I want.

  Jackson: But, I’m serious about recognizing one of them.

  Me: Are you guys being honest? This isn’t a prank?

  Brent: Too old for those types of pranks.

  Jackson: Too caught up with my own life for that kind of mess.

  Ian: Sorry, in a meeting what d
id I miss?

  Brent: We’re not doing a play-by-play. Scroll up.

  Ian: *middle finger emoji*

  Me: Just trying to figure out why someone would send me this at work.

  Brent: Maybe it’s just random spam. Like those Viagra ads Jackson’s always getting.

  Brent: Wait never mind those are legit. Since he’s practically living life as an old man.

  Jackson: Not even that good of a joke, so no response is forthcoming.

  Me: Take a look at the picture, again. My name is on her panties.

  Ian: Oh shit!

  Jackson: Wow…smh

  Brent: WTF…please tell me this is something old, and you’re not fooling around on Lashawnda.

  Me: I’d sooner cut off my left nut than mess around on her. Besides, I’m 100% sure my dick can’t get hard for anyone else but her.

  Me: Never going to fuck up what I got. I want those biscuits for life.

  Ian: Best fucking biscuits ever!!! Matter of fact let me text her now to see if she’ll make me a batch and send it overnight. Pretty sure they’d preserve well in the freezer.

  Jackson: I’ve never had them. Brent’s been talking about them for days.

  Ian: If you didn’t miss the cookout this weekend you would have had them.

  Jackson: You know it couldn’t be helped.

  Brent: That’s a good idea, Ian. Never thought about having her make a bulk batch. I can keep them in the freezer. I’m texting her now too.

  Me: NO ONE IS GETTING MY WOMAN’S BISCUITS.

  Me: Since y’all are so far off topic, I’m assuming it wasn’t one of you trying to jerk me around.

  Brent: I’ve gotta run… next patient just walked in.

  Ian: Same

  Jackson: send me a better-quality pic or video. Or, just forward the message. I can track it down for you.

  Me: Will do.

  I tossed my phone on the side of the keyboard and angrily took a swig of my water. Clicking through a few of the pictures, I tried figuring out who the women could be. It was almost eight months since Lashawnda and I had been together. When I first went celibate, I had a few women reach out to me, but all that tapered off by the time I met Lashawnda. Now, I couldn’t remember the last time I got a random text message. Whoever these women were had to be loony.