Mistress

by Meisha Camm

  “One more slow jam, y’all,” the DJ yelled out through the speakers.

  “Rapture” by Anita Baker came on. Ma and Pop to this day still dance to that song, one of the old-school classics.

  After ten minutes of bliss, everyone who was keeping the wall company returned to the dance floor to dance to the beat of “Rump Shaker” by Wreckx-N-Effect.

  Thomas kissed my hand. “Thanks for the dance.”

  “Anytime.”

  “Well, in that case, would you care to go out with me to get a slice of pizza or to the movies?”

  “Yes. Let me give you my number. Do you have a pen?”

  “That won’t be necessary. I already have your number.”

  “Hmm, I see you work fast.”

  Later on that night, I couldn’t sleep. I was too busy thinking about Thomas. I kept picturing his body naked in the middle of my room. I analyzed how we danced, the way he made me feel, the way I hoped to make him feel, what he said to me tonight, what I said to him, and what I could have said better. I called it a night after watching a movie on the Women’s Network.

  When I drifted off to sleep, I had the wildest dream. I was dreaming about Thomas.

  He had on a pair of maroon-colored silk boxer shorts and nothing else. I had on a skintight black dress and was lying on my king-sized bed. I knew Thomas could see my hard nipples through the dress. He was crawling toward me like a black panther. He gently pulled my legs to the edge of the bed.

  I stood up and raised my arm so he could take off my dress. My nipples got even harder, once they felt the cold air. He and I were both standing naked in front of each other.

  Thomas pulled my face toward his and kissed me with a sweet peck. “Are you ready for this?” he asked, rubbing my right shoulder.

  “No, just lay next to me. Give me some time, and I will be ready for you.”

  Six months later . . .

  This Sunday, I wasn’t feeling too hot. I came down with a cold. Ma and Pop had gone to church and left me with a bottle of cold medicine and bowl of chicken noodle soup.

  The doorbell rang.

  I opened it and Thomas appeared. “Hey, baby,” I greeted with a hug.

  “I brought you some of Mom’s world-famous tomato soup guaranteed to get rid of your cold,” he reassured me, walking through the front door.

  “Thank you.”

  Thomas hugged me again and held on tight. “Don’t worry, I’m going to be all right.”

  “I know, it’s not that,” he replied with a whimpering voice. Thomas looked as if his whole world was going to coming to an end.

  “Baby, what’s wrong? You’re really scaring me. Please talk to me.”

  “Mom and Dad told me last night that we’re moving to California. The shipyard business is booming out there. Dad accepted a job and received a huge raise.”

  “Can you live with your brother?” I asked, hoping his answer would be a yes.

  “No, he’s transferring to Atlanta. We have lots of family around there.”

  “How soon are you leaving?”

  “Next Saturday. Dad has to start work soon. Mom is eager to get the brand-new house in order.”

  We cried in each other’s arms. I loved Thomas so much, and he loved me too. I led him to my bedroom, and we made love for hours.

  Those last six days were the worst for me. We promised to call and write one another. I gave him one last hug and kiss as I dropped him and his family off at the Norfolk airport. When I gave Thomas’s mother a hug good-bye, she whispered in my ear, “You’re the one meant for my son”.

  As I was walking to my car, I made a promise to Thomas that I would try my best to make it work. Besides, I had the blessings of his mother, which was a way to a man’s heart.

  Two years later . . .

  Thomas and I had drifted apart. A long-distance relationship couldn’t stand the test of time for us. The pain of a broken heart was unbearable. I would rather be punched in the face because the pain doesn’t last so long. We parted ways. He got accepted to UCLA, and I got accepted to Norfolk State University.

  Fifteen years later . . .

  My marriage of ten years was ending. Brandon and I decided to split the sale of the house in Colonial Point right down the middle. He couldn’t have children. Well, he couldn’t make children. His sperm was null and void. It was hard on him, a potential doting father. After spending fifty thousand dollars in fertility treatments and procedures, the doctors just simply diagnosed him as being unable to produce children. There was only an eleven percent chance he could get me pregnant.

  Having a baby consumed him. It’d been at least three years since I truly enjoyed having sex with him. It was more of a task force mission within the walls of my bedroom. I didn’t love Brandon any more. I stopped being in love with him years earlier.

  He resented me for asking him to think about adoption or a sperm donor. The thought of another man’s working sperm in me made him cringe. Brandon wanted me to have his children coming only from his sperm. I can’t tell you how many doctors we went through. They simply explained to him and me over and over again that he couldn’t make babies. He was in denial about it. I was in denial about our marriage.

  As a last resort, I suggested his twin brother as a sperm donor. At least, our future child would have a better chance of looking like Brandon. Instead of him considering the thought, Brandon threw a chair across the kitchen. Still, I don’t know if it was meant for me or the refrigerator. He couldn’t believe I would suggest something so horrible.

  This was the last straw. Brandon didn’t realize I was just trying to make him happy. I filed for divorce and split up half our assets, except the furniture. I didn’t want it any more. I had lived in Chesapeake for years, so I decided to move back to Virginia Beach in a new condominium area called The Maypines. It has three bedrooms, two-and-a-half baths, and a fireplace, and it’s all mine.

  For the past five months, I’d been going out with my girlfriends to the club looking for men to pass the time with. Now, I was tired of that. I couldn’t get Thomas out of my mind. All of his contact numbers were disconnected, and I had no way of finding him. He’s gone forever, I thought.

  I was in the mood for Imperial Palace, a quiet Chinese spot down the street from me.

  After coming out of the restaurant with my order, I looked to my left, and stopped dead in my tracks. It was none other than Thomas.

  “Thomas,” I called out anxious.

  “Alexis,” he responded, a huge grin on his face.

  I dropped my food on the ground and ran into Thomas’ arms. I hugged him so tight, not wanting to let go. Finally, I let him go and picked up his scarf and the food. I placed the scarf back around his neck.

  We jumped into my Honda Accord and rode back to my place. “What are you doing here?” I asked.

  “Visiting my parents and friends, for now. Mom and Dad moved back here three years ago. They live in Great Bridge. After graduating from UCLA, I accepted a job in Atlanta from one of the biggest vet hospitals in the area. I stayed with my brother for a while. Now, I’ve got a house of my own. Peter just moved across the street. I flew down here. I wanted to walk to the store to get a few things.”

  “Ma and Pop are fine and still living in the same house. I have my own architectural company. I hope you’re hungry for damaged Chinese food.” I could smell soy sauce leaking from the bag.

  We both busted out laughing.

  We laughed and talked till the sun came up the next morning. I told Thomas about my busted-up marriage, and he told me about his past relationships. After a bottle of Hpnotiq, Thomas and I were very drunk. He slowly removed all my clothing, picked me up, and carried me upstairs to the bedroom.

  He sat on the edge of the bed and started rubbing my thighs. “Your thighs are still thick.”

  I enjoyed him touching me. I didn’t want this moment to ever end. “Thanks.” I giggled and I lay back on the sleigh bed.

  His tongue went down to my pussy, licki
ng the sensitive crevices in and around my vagina. I kept moaning, wanting even more. Next, his tongue drove down on my clitoris and repeatedly flicked it back and forth. He picked me up and rode me on the wall. He wasn’t going to stop until I came.

  I did, saying his name over and over again, louder and louder.

  He threw me back on the bed.

  “Now, let me ride you,” I whispered in his ear.

  Thomas lay down and assumed the position, holding on tight to my breasts as I fucked the shit out of him.

  The clock read one twenty-three in the morning. Thomas was on my back, giving me a massage. “Baby, go back to sleep. I’ll be in town for a while. I needed this break. Peter said hello. He’s glad we’re together again. I want you to always know something.”

  I turned around to my stomach. “What’s that?”

  “Please always know that I love you with all my heart. You are the one for me.”

  “Thomas, I know.” I sat up and gave him a kiss. “We’re back together again for good.”

  * * *

  For the next two months, Thomas came over and made love to me almost every night. The other nights, we just laid around talking and in each other’s arms. I wasn’t ready to go out with him because I wanted him all to myself with no interruptions. We ordered takeout most of the time. Thomas hardly ate anything. It was the only thing that I noticed different about him.

  It was nine on the dot, usually when he would show up. I woke up around three in the morning. Thomas still hadn’t come. I gave him a key about a month ago. I began to worry.

  With the cell phone number he gave me, I kept getting his voice mail. After leaving at least ten messages, I drifted back to sleep.

  Another week went by and not one word from him. I called all the hospitals to see if he ended up there. Most of the time, he drove over to my house in a white Honda CRV. One time, I went to Peter’s house, but I didn’t remember exactly where it was in Kempsville Lakes. I did remember him mentioning Peter working for BANKFIRST as an investment consultant.

  The next morning, I called the local branch and asked for him. Luckily, the lady on the phone knew him on a first-name basis. She gave me his work number and business cell phone number.

  I quickly dialed the number.

  “This is Peter Lockton. How can I help you?”

  “Peter, this is Alexis Gibbs from back in high school. How are you?”

  “I’m fine. It’s good to hear from you.”

  “I was calling you because I haven’t heard from Thomas in a week. He was supposed to come to my place, but he never showed up. Is everything all right?”

  “Alexis, I don’t understand . . . What are you talking about? Thomas has been dead for over a year. He was diagnosed with colon cancer and fought to the bitter end. I tried to get a hold of you, but your numbers weren’t listed in the phone book.”

  “Is this some kind of sick joke? I dropped Thomas off at your place across the street from me in Kempsville Lakes.”

  “Thomas died in my house. I sold that place, and now I live by Shore Drive. I’m so sorry. Maybe, you had a bad dream.”

  “This can’t be. I just saw him.”

  “We buried him at Woodlawn Memorial on Virginia Beach Boulevard. His name wasn’t listed in the paper. Thomas just wanted a quiet ceremony with only family and close friends. Thomas’ last words were, ‘Tell Alexis that I will always love her.’” He truly loved you. I wished you two could have gotten back together sooner. Take care of yourself,” he explained, crying, and hung up the phone.

  I didn’t bother to call into work for three days. I couldn’t sleep or eat. Going over in my mind what just happened was draining me physically and mentally.

  “Alexis,” a voice cried out.

  The clock read four forty in the morning. The television in the living room was staring back at me. A bright white light appeared next to me on the couch. It was Thomas.

  “Why didn’t you tell me the truth?” I asked, tears in my eyes. I hugged him.

  “My soul couldn’t rest without seeing you again. I’m so sorry, baby,” he responded embracing me.

  “How will I go on without you?”

  “I’ll always be with you in my heart. You’re going to live a full life, and you will love again. A new husband and a precious baby girl are in store for you. Now, I must go with my maker. I love you.”

  “I love you too,” I said and let go of him, the dimming white light dwindling away.

  I woke up to a cold sweat, wondering if anything in that dream was going to be my fate. Was Thomas going to die suddenly? Do I need to start telling him to have his doctor check for cancer now? Endless questions were swarming in my head. I changed my bed sheets and my shirt because I was sweating so bad. Next time, I want a Women’s Network movie before I go to sleep.

  * * *

  After four dates with Thomas, two at the movies, one at Olive Garden, and one at the bowling alley, I felt comfortable all alone with him . . . you know, just the two of us. Besides, even though there were people around on our previous dates, my focus was only on him.

  I loved to study Thomas, noticing how rough his hands were to the cute black mole on his left ear. This was Friday night. Earlier today, I’d passed two of the most difficult exams, and the football team won the game. We’d agreed to meet at his house at ten. His parents were out of town. I only had two hours to spare because my curfew was at midnight and not a minute later, according to the laws of Vivian Gibbs.

  The doorbell rang. Maria was with me. She walked right in and wasted no time getting reacquainted with Peter. Thomas took my coat and purse after I walked in. He’s so courteous. Holding the door for me, sliding out my chair is nice to have. My mother told me that I was a lady and should always be treated as one. If we didn’t work out, Thomas was making it hard for the next someone who came along.

  “Can I get you something to drink?” he asked.

  “No, I’m fine,” I responded walking into the living room.

  “I rented a couple of movies,” he said, heading for the remote control.

  “What movies do you have?”

  “National Lampoon’s Vacation and Coming to America. Which one would you like to preview. I know your curfew is twelve o’clock. I don’t want your mom coming to beat me down. It’s already ten fifteen.” He looked down at his watch.

  “Coming to America is good. It’s one of my favorites.”

  “Really, what’s your favorite part?” he asked.

  “My favorite part is when Eddie Murphy just finished his date with Lisa and he’s on cloud nine, singing in the streets, and doesn’t care how loud he is or who hears him, because he’s in love.”

  “What’s yours?” I sat back on the couch.

  “Mine is when everybody finds out Arsenio Hall’s character isn’t the king but Eddie Murphy truly is. He had the craziest look on his face.”

  Halfway through the movie, Thomas gave me a soft peck on the cheek. “Did you like that?” he asked, rubbing my left hand.

  “Yes.”

  “Can I kiss you?”

  “Mmm-hmm.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.” I nodded.

  Thomas and I turned our heads to each other. I closed my eyes, and my tongue embraced his. It felt soft, gentle, and right. The kissing got more intense. I was caught up in the moment, wanting to have sex with him, but I had to get home.

  Maria was lucky. Her mother didn’t really enforce a curfew. Her and Peter disappeared to give me and Thomas more privacy. By now, he was kissing on my neck and feeling on my breast. My body was getting hot. His dick was getting hard as I massaged it.

  “I got to go. It’s eleven fifteen. You already know about my curfew. I like to get in a few minutes early,” I explained as an excuse. The truth was I was scared.

  “Do you really have to go?” he asked, unbuttoning my shirt and lifting up my skirt. Thomas got off the couch and got on his knees, and faced my wide-open legs, my vagina wet, and
my nipples hard.

  “Which one do I want more?” He snickered.

  “I’ve got to go. I’ll come back tomorrow.”

  “I know you’ll cum.” Thomas kneeled down farther and started licking my vagina. I couldn’t feel any pleasure.

  After a few minutes, he began massaging my clitoris in a circular motion with his second and third finger on the left hand.

  “Hmmmm,” I moaned.

  Next, he flicked his tongue back and forth on my right nipple. I began to sweat profusely. I was getting hotter by the second. Suddenly, I could feel it coming. As I embraced for it, my arms held on tight to the back of the couch. This wave of something I’d never felt before came out of me. It felt good and intense. Plus, it relieved a lot of my tension.

  Thomas slowed it down and finally stopped.

  Damn, did he have to? He could rub my clitoris for hours.

  He turned around and looked at the clock. The time read eleven forty-seven.

  “You have thirteen minutes to get home. If you want to cum again, I strongly urge you to arrive back here tomorrow at six o’clock.” He walked to the closet to get my coat and purse.”

  Yeah, I’ll definitely be there, I thought, driving home.

  Chapter 12

  In order to graduate, all students had to take an elective class called Teen Living, which lasted only half a semester, and taught about cooking, employment, sewing, and finances. I waited till my senior year to take it, hoping it would be a breeze. I wasn’t the only senior enrolled in the class. Thomas and Tonya were both enrolled in the class.

  Mrs. Givins requested we have partners. Thomas quickly came over and sat next to me, leaving Tonya hot on his trail. You would think Tonya got the hint at the dance, but she just didn’t get it. Thomas wanted me, not her.

  Unfortunately, she was left with Arnold, a sophomore year math whiz with thick glasses who drooled over her every word.

  Our first assignment was to make pizza from scratch. It was really nothing to it. I did add a little extra basil and oregano in our hearty tomato sauce. We kneaded the dough together so our fingers could touch.