Never Again Once More

by Morrison, Mary B.

  Handing Jada her drink, the cashier curled Jada’s fingers over the ten-dollar bill. “The gentleman in the tan suit prepaid for you and your friend. What would you like?” she asked Candice, then turned back to Jada. “Oh, and he told me to give you this.”

  Jada flipped the card over and read, “Don’t keep me waiting.”

  Lowering Jada’s arm, Candice said to the cashier, “I’ll have a café latte with steamed soy milk.” Looking at her friend, she continued, “Terrell says I’m lactose intolerant and shouldn’t consume dairy products. See, girl, you’re reeling the men in already.” Candice peeped at the front of the card. “Impressive.”

  Jada had already checked out the man with the immaculately trimmed beard. His teddy bear love handles seemed to snuggle under a sheer layer of confidence. He wasn’t Wellington, but the brother was tall, sexy, and distinguished. He looked like money. Smelled like money, too, when he walked by and winked. His cologne wafted by her, alluringly fresh and clean; not harsh, bold, or like a cheap bar of soap. His nails were manicured. A watch and a ring adorned his left wrist and pointing finger. Diamonds and platinum. Not colored stones and gold. Casually scanning and assessing a man from head to toe was one of Jada’s greatest diva techniques. Maybe she’d call him next week after her furniture was delivered.

  Although her coochie, aka Lady C, craved affection, Wellington’s semen was the only sperm Jada honestly wanted swimming inside her paradise. His lips were the only ones she wanted pressed against her lips, her breasts, and her clit. The idea of getting to know someone new sucked. New issues. Unbearable habits. Why hadn’t she followed her first thought and rented a car. Now she was trapped with Candice for the rest of the day. With a sigh, she left the coffee shop and headed for baggage claim.

  Helping Jada retrieve her luggage, Candice recovered the suitcase from the conveyor belt and rolled it to her car. “Stay with us until you get settled,” she suggested as they got in the car and left the parking lot.

  Homelessness was a better alternative than watching Candice mimic the housewife role of Florida Evans from Good Times. “I’d love to, but I can’t. I need solitude.” Jada paused for a moment, watching the cars in the fast lane zoom by. Lowering the visor to block the sun, Jada sipped her drink and said, “Candice, I know you dislike Wellington because he cheated on me, but you have no idea how much I love him. It hurts me when you brag about how perfect your world is while constantly reminding me how fucked up my situation is.”

  Candice’s head snapped to the right. “Girl, where did that come from?”

  Ignoring the question, Jada continued, “I’m not desperate to find another man, to get hitched, or to get laid.” Okay, maybe the getting laid part wasn’t true, because her menstrual cycle was due, and she was so horny the friction between her thighs could bring her to a climax. “Besides, everything I had planned for my wedding, you’re using for yours, including exchanging soul mate rings. And what’s up with the marquis diamond ring. That was my favorite cut, not yours. But not once have I protested, and I’m not complaining now. And another thing, you need to stop telling Terrell everything I tell you. Am I your daily soap opera topic of conversation? You know Terrell and Darryl are still friends.” Finally Jada had said what she’d held in far too long. Slowly her migraine started subsiding.

  Jada seldom heard from Darryl Williams, but he called—even if he was on the road with his NBA teammates—whenever Terrell updated him on her latest happenings. Friendships with her ex-men were common and important, but she detested when Darryl delivered a verbatim report to her about herself.

  Candice had been her girlfriend since third grade, but ever since she’d met and moved in with Terrell, their closeness had become a triangle when it came to secrets. Candice boasted about Terrell’s bedroom skills in such detail, Jada felt as if she’d fucked him, too. The head of his penis was smaller than the shaft. The base of his penis was thinner than his shaft, almost like the shape of green zucchini. His nuts were the size of two mouth-sized gumballs when they shriveled up. And his cum tasted natural, like vanilla extract, except when he drank beer. Now Jada understood why Daddy used to say, “Never tell your girlfriend how good your man is in bed because she will find out behind your back.” Fortunately for Candice, Jada had access to dicks through her reserve list, to which Wellington had become her newest active reserve member.

  “Whew! Girl, you are right. You do need solitude. I’ll try not to be so happy when I’m around you.” Faster than a stunt man on fire, Candice did a stop, drop, and roll. She parked in front of the hotel but didn’t get out of her car. “I’ll tell my husband you said hello. Call me tomorrow. Bye, girl.” Candice drove away so fast the tailwind literally closed the trunk.

  What was up with wearing out the word husband? They weren’t married yet, and Candice was so blinded by love she couldn’t see that Terrell was obviously content reaping all the benefits of a married man while maintaining a singles’ lifestyle.

  After checking in, Jada raced to her room. Before the frappé settled in her stomach, the chilled liquid poured from her mouth. Leaning over the toilet, Jada heaved repeatedly. She removed her clothes and showered, letting the water rinse the residue from her mouth. Then she turned off the water, stepped onto the rug, and dried her hands on the plush white towel. Admiring her dripping-wet radiant onyx complexion in the mirror, Jada punched in zero zero one on her cell phone, tossed back the floral comforter, pressed the talk button, and sprawled across the white sheets as her skin air dried.

  “Hi, ba. I’m glad you made it in safely. It’s so good hearing your voice. I miss you already.” Wellington’s captivating tone made her forget all about her pains.

  “Yeah, I miss you, too.” If not for the static in the line, their connection would have been undetectable. Dead silence. A million thoughts stirred in Jada’s mind, but she didn’t know what to say next. She’d terminated her relationship with Wellington. She wasn’t going back to him, and she was tired of discussing his infidelity. But she also missed the hell out of being with her man. Ex-man.

  “When are you coming back to Oakland?” His seductiveness drew a prompt response.

  “Next week. To get my car.” A coochie deluxe tune-up wouldn’t hurt either because she loved experiencing those sex-released endorphins, those hormones that made her feel like dancing and singing. Wellington’s lovemaking made Jada happy to cook breakfast, lunch, or dinner anytime of the day or night. Hell, sometimes she even vacuumed the whole house or jogged around Lake Merritt, waving and smiling at adults, kids, seagulls, geese, and the sparse flamingos. But Jada also needed to visit Dr. Bates to take a pregnancy test. Her sickness was never accompanied by vomiting, so Jada suspected the worse and prayed for the best.

  “Call and let me know when you’re coming. I’ll help you drive back. And maybe you’ll come over for dinner before you leave? That’s if you’re finished boycotting and egging my place.”

  Jada laughed. “Cheap shot. Anyway, the last time Chef à la Wellington charcoaled steaks into brittle bits, we ended up eating out.”

  “If I recall correctly, my Nubian—”

  Covering her free ear, Jada screamed with laughter. “Don’t say it!” Jada didn’t want Wellington to remind her how her quasigourmet meal had been so horrid she washed her food and his down the garbage disposal. The salmon croquettes had been harder than hockey pucks, so Wellington had dropped one on the dining room floor, grabbed the broom, and handed her the sponge mop.

  After Wellington’s first bite of her pecan-orange bundt cake, he’d said, “Um, you’ve got to taste this. Close your eyes and open your mouth.” Then he’d promised, “You’re going to love this.” When the dessert hit her palate, each of her five senses had protested. Jada had darted her eyes in search of a place to quickly spit it out because she definitely wasn’t going to swallow a lump that tasted worse than earwax. They had then fallen to the kitchen floor laughing until their insides cramped, their saliva exchanged between hungry lips, and their k
nees became sore from making love on the linoleum all night long.

  Jada pictured Wellington’s dazzling smile, bald head, thick eyebrows, goatee, and his eight pack. Soft hairs outlined his chest and every crevice in his abdomen. His perfectly erect nipples were five shades darker than his caramel complexion. His gentle touch, sensuous lips, passionate kisses, and orgasmic lovemaking were unforgettable. His firm ass, two-hundred-and-twenty-pound, six-foot-four physique, and seductive mannerisms were etched in her brain forever.

  Breaking their silence, he said, “Call me in the morning, ba. I’ll talk with you later.”

  Melting at the hearty sound of his voice, Jada felt the words “I love you” suspend in air and surround her spirit. “What are you wearing?”

  Wellington whispered, “A smile and a hard-on that’s begging for your affection.”

  “Wet your fingers and massage the head for me.” Jada eased her fingers into her mouth and did the same to her clit.

  “Ooh, yeah. I’m stroking The Ruler. He’s growing an extra inch just for you, ba. Open your chocolate thighs wide so I can taste you.”

  Jada missed how they used to role-play. Her fondest memory was when she’d dressed like a Jamaican and flirted with Wellington in a Caribbean accent at the Farmers’ Market. She convinced him to buy exotic fruits that she’d feasted on, off of his succulent flesh outside by his swimming pool during sunset.

  “I’m pulling your face in closer, Big Daddy. Trace Mama’s rabbit ears with your juicy tongue. Nice and slow.” Jada moaned into the receiver as she enjoyed the external orgasm continuously seeping from her clitoris.

  “Damn, ba, all of this cream is for you. Your hairs are marinating in my cum. Rub it in,” he commanded.

  “I’m flowing with you. Sip in my last drops.” Jada caressed the moisture between her inner lips and slid her index finger into her vagina, welcoming the strong pulsation accompanying her internal orgasm.

  Deep inside, her pussy knocked hard like an out-of-control, overloaded washer machine on a fast spin cycle. That was the results of her daily vaginal weight lifting. The gold ben-wa balls were no longer a challenge, so one day while visiting the pleasure store, the owner had introduced Jada to the ceramic and smooth wooden eggs. Jada had charged both sets and the instruction manual to her VISA. At first learning muscle control to simultaneously move the ceramic eggs in opposite directions, left and right, and up and down, was difficult. But after Jada started stringing the one-pound weight into the bottom opening of the wooden egg and lifting and holding it with her vaginal muscles, rotating the ceramic eggs was a cinch. Jada’s clenching drove Wellington so nuts his orgasmic groans intensified, sounding like The Rock lifting and then body slamming Stone Cold Steve Austin during a WWF Championship match.

  “Say you love me.”

  “I love you, Wellington Jones.” More than he’d ever know, and at the moment more than she was willing to admit. Her soul magnetically absorbed his spiritual energy.

  “I love you, too, ba. I’m gonna go clean up this wonderful mess you’ve created. Don’t forget to call and let me know when you’re coming to get your car. Good night, my Nubian queen.”

  “Yes, it is a very good night.” Jada recharged her cell phone on the nightstand and continued lying sideways across the jumbo-sized mattress. She cried hard into her pillow so the people in the adjacent room wouldn’t hear her sobbing. Why did she keep crying over Wellington when she didn’t want him? How long would her head and heart remain out of sync? The old man on the plane had given her a lot to think about. Should Jada abandon her pride in order to salvage their love? Or give up Wellington and maintain her dignity?

  Chapter 2

  Wellington loaded Jada’s trunk with a portable battery charger, flares, a first aid kit, and an empty gas can. He double checked the spare tire and made certain his AAA roadside card was in his wallet.

  All of his life was neat and orderly. Preschool. High School. College. Cynthia had overruled his plea to play football and enrolled him in golf lessons. On his first date with Jada, he’d thrown on his new rags, sagging his denim shorts and wearing his baseball cap backward. To impress Jada he’d adjusted his attitude to his attire and played it cool. He was always smooth, but seldom cool. Not as in calm. Slick. He wasn’t the type of guy who could get caught fucking another woman, then convince his woman she was to blame or it wasn’t his fault. If confronted, he told the truth or opted not to respond.

  “We’re all set.” Hopefully this wasn’t his last chance to spend time with his Nubian queen. “Did you phone your mother to make sure they’re not busy?” Wellington recalled when Jada told him how she dropped by unannounced and saw her mother dressed in a bustier, garter, and G-string, waiting for Robert to come over.

  “Yeah, she’s packing. Robert is taking her to Las Vegas tomorrow. Those two are always traveling some place.” Jada reached for the handle.

  “Oh, no you don’t. We may not be a couple, but some things haven’t changed.” Wellington opened and closed Jada’s door. He checked the pressure in each tire. Then he adjusted the steering wheel and the mirrors, and pulled away from the curb.

  “Thanks for driving my car to L.A.” Jada affectionately rubbed her thumb aside his mouth.

  Instantly he licked his lips, asking, “What was that?” He sucked her pointing finger into his mouth.

  “Oh, toothpaste or something. Don’t worry. It’s gone now.” She smiled, intertwining her legs until both feet rested atop opposite knees.

  “Umm, I should have gotten it myself.” He glanced at her feet. “Isn’t that uncomfortable?” Wellington cruised Highway 1 South toward the San Mateo Bridge. He liked her new purple stonewashed unitard. Stretchable. Flexible. Sexy. The outline of her crotch stalked him, so he scratched the back of his neck. “Um. Would you please unfold your legs? You’re distracting me. I’ve never seen you do that.” He tucked in his lips to moisten them.

  Placing her bare feet on the off-white mat next to her slip-ons, Jada answered, “After you abandoned me at the restaurant at Pier 39, I decided meditation wasn’t enough, so I enrolled in yoga. It’s the best mental and physical exercise I’ve done. You should try it.”

  Wow. Maybe he should. In fact, he’d enroll as soon as he got back, because if all the women in the class were that limber and peacefully centered—forget the church house—yoga class was where Wellington wanted to find his next mate. He thought about last night when Jada’s iridescent-polished toenails had been cotton candy in his mouth.

  “You think you’ll ever relocate from Half Moon Bay?” Jada opened the Jet magazine, reading the last page first. Eddie Murphy was on the cover without his wife and kids.

  Wellington would sneak a peep when Jada turned to the centerfold. “Are you kidding? Never. The San Francisco Peninsula is one of the best places to live in America. You wouldn’t believe how much I paid for my home ten years ago and what it’s worth today.” Maybe she was testing him to see if he planned on moving to L.A. Wellington wanted but refused to ask Jada for a chance to make things right between them. “How close are you to completing your business and operating plan?”

  “Not very. In fact, I haven’t even started. I’ll work on it next week.”

  “You think your mom is going to let me in?” He hadn’t seen Jada’s mother since their breakup. Their separation wasn’t completely his fault. But Jada acted as if her contributions were less important. Adam didn’t pick the apple from the tree, but every Christian in the world knew he was just as guilty as Eve. So what if Jada hadn’t initiated the threesome. She’d participated.

  “Why wouldn’t she?” Jada bypassed the Beauty of the Week. “Ah, ha. Gotcha.”

  Wellington smiled and nodded. “That’s all right. You’re sexier than all of them put together.” He turned on 106.1 KMEL and passed the time with sporadic Dyad until he parked outside Mrs. Ruby’s house in San Leandro. “Does Robert still sleep across the street?” he asked as they walked toward the front door.

  Wellingto
n envied how Jada’s mother and her second husband had separate residences. Robert courted Ruby as if they were high school sweethearts. He bought Ruby flowers every week, ran her bathwater, and massaged her feet. She cooked his dietetic meals, watched his intake of carbohydrates, pricked his finger three times a day to test his sugar level, and clipped his toenails to make sure he didn’t get an infection. Every story Jada shared about her mother had a happy ending, but she never talked about how her father had died.

  Unfortunately, Wellington had never known the love, joy, or touch of his real mother. So he lived vicariously through the stories his older sister, Jazzmyne, shared about their mother, Katherine. Jazzmyne told him how Katherine had visited Cynthia every week for an entire year after he was born just to hold him in her arms. After Wellington’s first birthday, Cynthia had insisted Katherine discontinue her visits, fearing Katherine might steal him away. Since Cynthia had become infertile during adolescence, she didn’t want to risk losing Wellington to anyone, especially the sister who had supposedly stolen her man.

  Wellington was pulled from his thoughts when Jada answered.

  “Only when they have a disagreement, because they don’t argue. Or when Robert is watching a game with his friends. Can you believe every room in Robert’s house has a Raiders theme? His welcome mat, electrical plate covers, towels, and plates, you name it. Mama cooks for every game. Sets up the food at his place. Then goes about her business. She calls it his sanity time.”

  “That’s a great arrangement.” Wellington rang Ruby’s doorbell, then softly kissed Jada’s lips, remembering the intimacy they had shared last night. That was the first time Jada had slept in his bed since their ménage à trois with Melanie.

  When Robert opened the door, the buttons on his Raiders cardigan sweater were unevenly matched, so one side hung longer than the other. “Hey, look a here. It’s Homeo and Diamonette. What’s up cat and catette? Come on in. Jada, Ruby in the kitchen. Homey, you can have a sit down with me. I spoke with your stepdad Christopher yesterday. We went to dat Super Bowl Mardi Gras down in New Orleans. Man those ‘Who Dat’ cats party way harder than they work. You’d think they won the Super Bowl. And I could have sworn this woman at The Bottom Line was tryin’ ta put a root on me, but Ruby wasn’t havin’ it. So y’all gettin’ ready to hit the road, huh?” Robert smacked his hands together, dashing the right one in the air.