by RM Johnson
The beautiful dress that Gill had taken her to buy after he picked her up from work was hanging from the hook on the bathroom door. It was only a casual dress, a simple, black, clingy above-the-knee-length deal, but it was three hundred dollars plus.
“Gill, you don’t have to do this,” Asha said. “My birthday isn’t for another two weeks.”
Gill laughed, pulled his wallet out, threw down his platinum AmEx, and said, “Who said anything about your birthday? This dress is because I want to take you out to dinner tonight.”
Asha pulled the shower curtain back, peeked at the dress, and had to just smile. That man would’ve bought her the sun if it were for sale, or if there was a way that he could fly up there, lasso it, and bring it down to her.
Asha adjusted the showerhead to shoot water down on the back of her neck, and upper back. She grabbed some pineapple shower gel, squirted some in her hand, and started to lather her body, concentrating on her lower stomach, her hips, and inner thighs. With each movement of her soap-covered hand, her body was becoming more sensitive, and she felt her mind start to wander away from her. She closed her eyes, letting herself be taken to wherever she landed, and she knew it would be back at the spa. The area at which Asha washed herself narrowed to just in between her legs, and she was about to move into herself, and erase all the tension from her day when the shower curtain was yanked back.
Asha snapped out of the trance she was in to find Gill standing there, just outside the bathtub, totally naked, and totally erect.
“Is there room for one more?” Gill asked, not waiting for Asha’s reply, but already stepping into the tub.
Only if you’re this fine woman named Angie, Asha wanted to say, but of course didn’t dare. Inside the shower, Gill went straight to lathering himself up with the bar of deodorant soap she had bought for him, because as Gill said, he didn’t “want to be smelling like nobody’s fruit basket.” He set the bar down, and then with his brown body covered with thick white suds, he pushed himself up against Asha’s back. She felt his penis slipping and sliding against her backside, and she knew that was his attempt at making her “horny,” getting her “hot” as so many men perceived it. But her heat was stolen from her the minute Gill had stepped in the tub.
“You know you were turning me on when you were trying on those dresses this afternoon. You know that, don’t you?” Gill whispered into Asha’s ear, as the warm water continued to spray down on both of them. He was sliding in and out from between her thighs now, and although Asha knew that’s not how it was going to go down, she was really hoping Gill was going to satisfy himself that way, because at that moment, her thirst for him was quite dry, her insides feeling the same way.
Gill reached around and grabbed one of her breasts, lathering it with the suds that clung to his hand. He placed the other hand on her upper back, and gently leaned her forward, no, “Baby, how would you like taking it from the rear today?” or nothing. Just pushed her over.
“I couldn’t wait to get you back home, Suga’.”
“Me too,” Asha said, in her sweetest voice, knowing that she wasn’t actually repulsed by Gill himself. She did kinda love this man; it was just his timing. She would give herself to him, because it wasn’t his fault that she was thinking about another woman. Why should he be made to suffer?
Gill seemed to be having a little difficulty finding his way inside Asha, frustrating her some, considering how many times he had been there before. She reached around, grabbed him, and guided him in. She was bone dry, as she knew she would be, and thanked the fact that they were in the shower, because the soap and water acted as a lubri-cant. Gill wouldn’t know the difference.
He was a wonderful lover, always took his time, was very attentive, never left the scene before she arrived at least twice, but at that moment, as Asha’s forearms were pressed against the shower wall, the shower water crashing down on her back, pouring down into the crevice of her behind, it felt like Gill was doing nothing more than working out. It felt like he was pounding himself into her without meaning, without emotion. She heard him moaning back there, and was glad that at least one of them was getting something out of it. She felt his hands grabbing her around her waist, and although he wasn’t rough with her, he was missing that tenderness that Angie had.
Angie. Angie … Angie … Angie. And before Asha knew it, she was at the spa again, in that woman’s embrace again, kissing her, aroused to the point she thought she would start dripping through her panties and her slacks. And then she heard Gill say, “Oh, baby, you’re getting so wet.”
And Asha just shook her head, thinking, if only you knew why.
“Can you order me another glass of Merlot?” Asha asked Gill.
“Of course, Suga’,” he said, and it was sweet of him to say nothing about the fact that it was her third. He simply raised his hand, catching the attention of the waiter, while with the other hand, he continued playing with one of Asha’s fingers, her ring finger.
The waiter came, a tall, thin, distinguished man with thinning black hair, who looked far too old to be serving food for a living.
“Another Merlot for the beautiful woman,” Gill said, proudly.
“Right away,” the waiter said, and was about to step away, when Gill grabbed him by the cuff of his sleeve. He pulled him toward him, whispered a few things in the waiter’s ear, and slipped him a bill. Asha couldn’t see the denomination. The waiter smiled at Gill, then hurried off.
Asha didn’t know if it was because she was far past buzzed and approaching drunk, but that gesture seemed odd. And what made it even odder was when they first walked into the restaurant, and were waiting at the bar for a table to open up, Gill had found the headwaiter on his way back from the men’s room, this same guy, and had quite a long conversation with him in the back of the restaurant. When Gill came back and sat down, Asha eyed him peculiarly.
“What?” he said, taking a sip of his beer.
“What was all that about?”
“I just wanted to make sure he got us the best table.”
And now as Gill looked back at Asha, as though the second conversation he’d just had with the waiter had never taken place, Asha had to ask him again.
“What did you just ask him?”
“It was nothing, Suga’. Nothing.”
“No. I want to know,” Asha said, sitting up in her seat. “And it better not be no thing where all the wait staff comes out here with some mini cake and sings me some slappy-happy, funky version of ‘Happy Birthday.’ You know it’s not for another two weeks.”
“Baby, don’t worry. It’s nothing like that,” Gill said, confident.
“Then what is it?”
“I just asked him to open a fresh bottle of their best Merlot. I figured if my baby is gonna tie one on, it should be with the best they got.”
Asha should’ve known it had to be something like that. That was typical Gill, and now she felt foolish.
The wine came, and Asha thanked the waiter, after he very gingerly set the glass down in front of her on a paper coaster, and smiled genuinely in her face. He was good at what he did, Asha thought, and seemed to care about each and every diner in the restaurant. If her memory served her correctly, she thought she’d seen him stop at all the tables and have a short, friendly conversation with everyone there.
“Thank you, baby. That’s so sweet of you,” Asha said.
“You’re welcome. But is everything all right? You’ve seemed kinda preoccupied all night.”
“Well, I had a little something on my mind. But everything is fine now,” she said, taking a swallow of the wine. It was delicious.
“You know you look gorgeous in that dress,” Gill said.
“Well, I’m glad you like it. But if this wasn’t for my birthday, what is? What have you planned?”
“I have a couple of things in mind, but I really haven’t decided yet.”
And Asha was happy to hear that, because she knew that one of those things was probably
an engagement ring. And although that worried her, if he hadn’t decided yet, that meant he hadn’t bought it yet, it wasn’t sitting there in his pocket, waiting for him to whip it out and put it on her finger. She was hoping that wasn’t what this thing was leading to, the dress, the dinner at her favorite restaurant. But then again, Gill had it in him to be a little more elaborate than this. Gill would’ve wanted to draw more attention to a proposal than just this.
“What is it you want for your birthday?” Gill asked, smiling.
“Besides you, nothing,” Asha said, stroking his ego, knowing how good that would make him feel.
“Well, you know that won’t be the case, Suga’, because you know how much I love you, don’t you?”
“Of course, Gill. Did you want to do dessert?” Asha quickly said, trying to change the subject, because she didn’t think she liked the direction in which it was heading.
“You know I love you so much, damn near since the day I met you. You know that, right? And that I’d do anything for you.”
“Yeah, Gill. I know all that,” Asha said, starting to become a little nervous.
“And you know that I never want us to be apart. That I want us to be together for the rest …”
“Gill …” Asha said, stopping him abruptly, because he was going there. Oh God! He was going there, and once he really started going, she knew there would be no way to stop him. Asha told herself that this wasn’t happening, not this moment, not after what just happened to her earlier at work. He couldn’t be about to propose. But what if he was? What would she say? What could she say? She loved Gill, but not in that way, or at least not enough in that way to marry him. So she said very politely, and smiling as kindly as she could, “Gill, this sounds like you’re talking about marriage here.” And then she took a deep breath in, and let it slowly escape as she tried to remain as calm as possible.
“You aren’t about to propose to me are you?” She smiled some, try-ing to make it seem like she didn’t mind the idea at all, but would’ve preferred a little more notice so she could’ve had her hair looking a little nicer or something.
Gill smiled, chuckling a little under his breath. He shook his head, and said, “No, Suga’. I’m not about to propose to you.”
And just at that moment, with those few words, the world seemed to be lifted off Asha’s shoulders. She sat there, letting that immense feeling of relief waft over her, not noticing as the headwaiter appeared at the side of their table, raising his eyebrows to Gill as if asking a question. She was so savoring her relief that she didn’t see as Gill subtly nodded his head toward the waiter, and the waiter nodded back, looking around the entire restaurant, seeming to catch everyone’s attention with just his glance, then raised his arms out to his side. And Asha also wasn’t paying attention as the entire restaurant full of people stood, turning their smiling faces in her direction.
And then as she exhaled the last of that satisfying breath, she was almost deafened by the sound of her own name being spoken by all the people who were in the restaurant.
“Asha …” Her name rang through the large room. “Will you marry Gill?”
Asha snapped out of her calm place, whipped her head about, spun in the booth, shocked to find everyone standing.
It took a moment for what was said to catch up to her, but when it did, her eyes sped directly to Gill, who was no longer in his seat across the booth from her, but on his knee, holding open a ring box with a beautiful, brilliant diamond inside of it.
Asha’s stomach immediately knotted up, the alcohol was doing its thing on her head, and if she wasn’t careful, she thought, she could’ve puked up all over Gill and his humongous ring. Her heart pounded in her chest, and every fraction of a second that passed felt like an eternity. All Asha wanted to do was run, get the hell out of there, but there was the tiny issue of that man in front of her, on one knee proposing to her. Her mind simply stopped working, and so did her vocal chords. To make matters worse, it now seemed that Gill paid the headwaiter enough to convince the diners in the restaurant that if the cute little black woman didn’t respond after exactly thirty seconds, then everyone was to say, “Well? Gill’s waiting.” And that’s exactly what they did, almost shocking Asha into yet another heart attack.
“That’s right, baby. I’m waiting,” Gill said, in the smallest, sweetest voice, beneath her. He looked so proud, yet so humble down there, and she knew that this would make him happier than any man living. Everything that happened that afternoon with Angie, her soft touch, the kiss, the tears, flashed before Asha’s eyes in only a second. She took just an additional second to think about her answer, for one more would’ve disrespected Gill in front of all those people. Then Asha stood, extended her hand to Gill, and said, “Yes, sweetheart. I’ll marry you.”
10
I was doing seventy mph down Lake Shore Drive when the limit was forty five. The radio was blaring loudly in my car, all the windows were down, the sunroof open. Why? I didn’t know. Maybe because I was trying to use everything available to numb my senses, blot out of my mind what I had just witnessed. I switched lanes recklessly, yelling over all the noise into my cell phone.
“Asha, when you get this, call me on my cell! I’m on my way to your place. I need to talk to you.”
I slapped shut the flip phone, and tossed it to the passenger seat. I bore down heavier on the gas pedal, now approaching twice the speed limit, not caring that this strip was known for its heavy police presence. I grabbed the steering wheel tightly, whipped the car right, across three lanes of traffic, onto the exit ramp. If I’d flipped the car at that moment, I wouldn’t have cared. Hell, maybe I was even trying to do it. I didn’t know if I was suicidal or just trying to make more of an effort to stop that vision from playing out in my head again, which it did, regardless.
I’d stood there watching them, as they were so busy that they didn’t even notice me just inside the hotel room door, my sweatcovered hand on the knob, the other hand wrapped around the roses I had bought Faith. I stood there, knowing that my eyes were lying to me, unable to comprehend what I was seeing taking place right before me.
Faith, my fiancée … her face was buried in the cushions of the sofa, as that man continued to push and pull himself in and out of her. They were groaning together, and then the man called out Faith’s name. He said it with such passion, but also with so much familiarity. He said it like I would’ve said it, like he knew her, like he loved her.
She cried out again, saying his name I thought, but I couldn’t quite make it out because her voice was muffled by the pillows. But then she made a sound that I could make out, a sound that was very familiar to me, and my head started to spin with the realization that my soon-to-be wife was making those car-stuttering sounds with another man. My wife was about to come at the urging of another man right in front of my face!
Something disconnected in me, making my limbs go weak. The roses fell from my hand, the doorknob slid from my grasp and the door quickly shut. Both noises shocked Faith out of her pleasure-induced trance, and she looked up at me with bulging eyes. She looked horrified, like she disbelieved what she saw as much as I did. At that instant she tried squirming free from the man, but he was still in another world, still going in and out of her. And unbelievably, it seemed Faith was still responsive to the feeling. She looked as though she was fighting against it, but was unable to stop the pleasure she was feeling. And although her face contorted with fear and frustration, the sounds she made became louder, her body seeming less in her control, until she shut her eyes, and involuntarily screamed out in ecstasy. She turned her head away from me, as if not to further torture me with the look of painful pleasure on her face. But I was far beyond saving. It had happened, and I was there to see it.
At that moment, I was so focused on Faith’s climax, that it took a moment for me to realize that the man had gotten his too. He was bent over, his back arched strangely, shaking all over, like he had just been jolted with about a thousand volts
of electricity.
“Ah, Faith. That was great,” he said, smiling, sweat dripping from the tip of his nose, from off his chin, splashing onto her back. He looked down at Faith, his hands still resting on her behind, but when he saw that she was looking up toward the door, his eyes followed.
When he saw me there, he gasped, almost choked, and quickly pulled himself away from Faith. He staggered backward, almost falling over his own feet.
“It’s not what …”
I heard him speak those words, even though all my attention was on Faith. I was staring at her intently, like I wanted to bore holes through her face with my gaze alone. But I heard those words, and I said softly, but with immeasurable anger in my voice, “You are not about to fucking say it’s not what it looks like. Don’t you dare fucking say that.”
The man had obviously figured out who I was. He nodded his head obediently, frightened at the look on my face, then staggered one more step away from Faith, who had now curled herself up in a naked ball on the corner of the sofa, her arms roped around her legs. Her body was trembling, and I didn’t know if these were final climactic tremors running through her, or if she was scared that I was going to lose it, tear the leg off the desk that was near me, and start beating the shit out of the both of them.
I wanted to speak, wanted to express my pain. I wanted to ask her why? Why in the fuck would she do something like this to me? What had I done wrong that I deserved this? But I couldn’t find any words. And even if I had, I didn’t think I’d be able to coax them out of me, for all the things that made speech possible seemed to be gone from within me. I felt hollow, like all my insides, my heart, even my soul, had been violently gouged out of me, leaving me with just enough sensory perception to feel pain.
A tear spilled from my eye, and I saw the sadness on Faith’s face deepen when she saw that tear. She didn’t want this to happen, for me to catch her. I had to tell myself that, because I feared that was the only thing keeping me off her, from shaking her, from forcing her to spell it all out for me. And it was also all that was keeping me from that man.