Zane's Nervous

by Zane

  I was wiping the words off with paper towels and glass cleaner when a knock came at the door. That irritated me because no one ever came to my door unless they were selling something.

  I was stunned when I glanced through the peephole and Mason was standing there.

  As soon as I opened the door, he winked at me. “Is this the apartment of a female single? I hear there are a lot of them around here.”

  I fought to suppress a laugh. “Um, yeah. I’m a female single.”

  “Good. I thought I might have the wrong place for a second and I wouldn’t want to get attacked by a jealous husband or boyfriend.”

  “Well, I don’t have one of those either.”

  “My lucky day.”

  “So how do you like your new place?”

  “It’s okay.” He held out his hands and presented me with an apple pie on a glass plate. “Since I waited around for a week for the welcoming committee to grace me with a pie and no one showed up, I figured I might as well break tradition and welcome myself.”

  Oh my goodness! Did he really expect me to bring him sweets?

  “I apologize,” I said sincerely. “If I’d known that you really anticipated me getting you something, I would have.”

  He chuckled. “I’m just kidding with you, Jonquinette. I’ll be honest. I wanted to see you again and I haven’t been able to catch you in the hallway so I decided to come up here groveling for attention instead.”

  I took the pie from him. “Thanks for the pie. Did you bake this?”

  “Are you kidding? I can’t even boil water.”

  “Now that I can do.”

  “You just can’t make toast?” he asked jokingly.

  “Right. I can’t make toast.”

  He cleared his throat and ducked his head into my apartment. “Nice place.”

  “Thanks.” I knew what he was hinting at, but wasn’t sure I was ready to invite a man who wasn’t there to fix something inside of my apartment. He didn’t appear to have plans to leave until I did, so I said, “Would you like to come in?”

  “Thanks. I thought you’d never ask.”

  I moved out of the way so he could enter and headed toward the kitchen. “Feel free to have a seat. I’ll be right back.”

  I set the pie plate down on the counter and had to lean against it to catch my breath. My knees were wobbling and my hands were suddenly sweating. I ran them under cold water and lathered them with soap, splashing some of the water on my face. At that moment, I wished I’d taken the time to get properly dressed instead of staring at my television screen for so long.

  I felt someone behind me and jerked around. Mason was standing there.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you, Jonquinette.”

  “No, you didn’t.” I turned off the water and reached into the cabinet for a couple of saucers. “I was just going to cut the pie. It looks delicious. Would you like a piece?”

  “Absolutely. That pie cost me about ten bucks.”

  We both laughed.

  “I didn’t want to get you one of those cheap pies from the grocery store so I went to a bona fide bakery.”

  The man was determined to make me blush. “I feel so special.”

  He took his index finger and moved a tress of hair out of my face. “You are special. I can see that already.”

  Things were going well up until that point. His hands on me. The way he was looking at me. I couldn’t take it.

  I stepped away from him. “Mason, I just remembered that I have to meet someone in a few minutes.”

  “Really? You just remembered that, huh?” he asked skeptically. He knew it was a fabrication.

  “Yes, my friend. Um, Darnetta. She works with me and I promised her that I’d meet her today.”

  I did make a promise to Darnetta. Just not for that day.

  He looked highly disappointed. “In that case, I guess I better leave.”

  “Would you like a piece of pie to take with you?”

  “No thanks. I’ve suddenly lost my appetite.”

  I felt bad as I saw Mason out. I really did think he was nice and he even made me laugh. That was rare. But I couldn’t be with him or any other man until I figured out what was going on with me. Hopefully, Dr. Spencer would get me the help that I needed. After all, she’d also made a promise.

  11

  jude

  Meredith Williams Pierce aka Queen Bitch. There was no way I was going to allow Jon to go out to dinner with her. Not the way Jon had been acting lately. I couldn’t believe she’d actually flirted with that Mason character the day before. For the second time, no less. If she hadn’t kicked his ass out the apartment, I would have for damn sure.

  I wasn’t used to having to take over so much. I was content to surface when Jon needed protection and from time to time to get my sexual needs taken care of, but surfacing had become a matter of survival. Jon actually thought she could get rid of me. Never!

  “Do you like this restaurant, baby?” Queenie asked me, taking a sip of her Pink Pony. “Darryl and I used to come here a lot.”

  “Who?” I knew who the hell she was talking about. I just felt like starting trouble.

  “You remember Darryl.”

  I took a sip of my lemonade. “Oh, him,” I said with contempt. “Wasn’t he the one you were doing after Frank and before Brent?”

  “Doing?”

  “You know what I mean, Momma. Wasn’t he the one you were fucking between the other two men you were fucking?”

  She almost choked on her cocktail. “Jonquinette, I don’t know what’s gotten into you.”

  I laughed. “The better question is what hasn’t gotten into you. Or who, to utilize a better term.”

  “How dare you talk to me like that? I’m your mother.” She glanced down at the porterhouse steak on my plate. “When did you start eating red meat again? I thought you were on some health kick.”

  I was truly enjoying this shit. Fucking with Meredith the Bitch’s head was right up there with riding some bomb-ass dick.

  “Don’t you think you’re a little over the hill to be whoring?” I asked her.

  She slammed her glass down on the table and all but broke it.

  “I don’t know what the hell is wrong with you, young lady, but you will not disrespect me in such a fashion. I won’t tolerate it.”

  “I won’t tolerate it. I won’t tolerate it,” I repeated mockingly. “Who says you have a choice?”

  She glared at me but I met her gaze with one that made her look away. She got up from the table.

  “Jonquinette, I’ve been out of the country and I thought we should spend some time together catching up, but I don’t know what comes over you when you start acting like this. Sometimes you act so evil. It’s almost like there’s two of you.”

  I smirked. What an interesting choice of words!

  The Queen Bitch started gathering her purse and keys.

  “Aw, leaving so soon?” I asked sarcastically. I couldn’t wait for her to get the fuck out of my face.

  “Jonquinette, maybe we can try this again next weekend when you’re feeling better.”

  She stormed out of the restaurant, passing the waiter toting our tray of food on her way out. He watched her depart and asked, “Will the lady be returning?”

  “She’s not a lady. She’s a whore,” I lashed out at him. I waved my finger at the food. “Just wrap all that up and bring me the check.”

  “Whatever you like, madam.”

  He was walking away when I observed how tight his ass was. I eyed him up and down as he totaled up the bill over by the bar and came back to the table.

  “Here’s your check. I’ll take it whenever you’re ready.”

  I handed him a fifty. “Keep the change.”

  He grinned, realizing I’d just given him a healthy tip. “Thanks.”

  I grabbed his wrist and read his name tag. “By the way, Antoine, what time do you get off?”

  • • •

  He
had told me that he was getting off at eight. I intended to get off my damn self by eight-thirty. I was going to kill some time by shopping but the stores closed early on Sunday; all except the personal favorites of people on budgets like Wal-Mart and Target. I went to Wal-Mart because they did have some great buys. Plus, I liked scrutinizing people. I was quite the observer. There were a few fine men in there but all of them were on lockdown with bitches and brats surrounding them. Wimps! They just didn’t know what they were missing.

  After purchasing some toiletries from the clearance aisle, I left Wal-Mart and headed back to the parking lot of the restaurant. I listened to the latest popular disc jockey on the radio and plotted my course of action in my mind.

  When he came out the restaurant, dressed in tight jeans and a leather motorcycle jacket, my pussy was suddenly aflame. I turned off the battery power in my car and climbed out, following him to the side where he was about to mount a shiny red Yamaha Z6 motorcycle.

  “Can a sista catch a ride?”

  He came across as being shocked when he turned to find me standing there. Then he grinned. “Long time no see.”

  “Yeah, well, I asked you what time you got off for a reason.”

  “Look, I’m extremely flattered but I’m kind of seeing someone right now and I’m a brotha who tries to do the right thing.”

  I pounced on him and flicked the tip of my tongue in his ear. “She’ll never know because I’ll never tell.”

  He pushed me away slightly but I could tell he wanted some pussy. They all do.

  “Um, maybe some other time. Not tonight.”

  I ran my fingers across his cheek. “Listen, I’m not trying to pressure you or anything. It’s just that when you waited on me in the restaurant earlier, I had this incredible fantasy about you and the next thing I knew, I was experiencing this tremendous orgasm.”

  He blushed. I had his ass. “Really? What was your fantasy about?”

  “Sucking your dick. Riding you. Letting you have your way with me.” I leaned closer and whispered, “You look like such a powerful man. I can tell by the bike you ride that you must like powerful things. How about you let me show you some powerful pussy?”

  “Powerful pussy?” He chuckled. “Can’t say I’ve ever heard it called that.”

  “That’s because you’ve probably never had any powerful pussy. I bet you’re dealing with some chick that still has a little girl mentality. She more than likely just lays there and lets you tap that ass.”

  “No, she can do the damn thing when she wants to.”

  I was getting offended. No one refused to give me dick. No one! I rubbed his dick through his jeans and he grew hard instantly. “I don’t want to fall in love. I don’t even want you to know my name. Let’s just take a little ride on your bike. It’s such a beautiful night. I promise it will be fun.”

  He hesitated briefly and then said, “All right, why not?”

  He gave me his spare helmet while he put his on. I climbed on the bike behind him and locked my arms around his waist. We pulled off into the night. I unzipped his pants and took his dick out, jacking him off as we rode. We almost crashed three times before ending up by a lake. It was gorgeous and I wondered why Jon’s tired ass had never bothered to check it out before. He cut the engine on his bike and I got off, climbing back on immediately but straddling and facing him.

  “You cold?” he asked me. “You can have my jacket if you want.”

  “No, actually I’m the opposite. I’m very, very hot!” I slid my tongue into his mouth and he reacted.

  He reached up under the ugly-ass flower-patterned dress Jon had selected for church that day, slipped his fingers into the elastic of my panties, and started fingering my wetness.

  “See how excited you have me?” I asked. “Now you know why I just had to wait for you to get off.”

  “I’m glad you did.”

  Just like I’d planned, by eight-thirty I was getting my shit off. I rode him right there on top of his bike and then we both got nude and did it again on the bank of the lake. He never asked my name. Good little puppy dog!

  12

  jonquinette

  I woke up and found myself lying in the middle of my kitchen table. There was a carry out container with a half-eaten steak beside me and I could taste the meat in my mouth. I jumped up and ran to the bathroom to inspect my teeth. There were particles of steak embedded in them. I brushed quickly and thoroughly to rid myself of the aftertaste. What the hell had happened?

  I went into my bedroom and discovered it was after ten. I was due into work by nine. I called but Mr. Wilson wasn’t in his office so I left him a voice mail, telling him I was too sick to come in.

  After hanging up, I immediately called Momma to apologize for not meeting her for dinner as promised the day before.

  She answered on the second ring, apparently using her caller ID. “Jonquinette, I really have nothing to say to you at the present time. I will call you next week.”

  “Momma, what’s wrong?” I asked. “I was just calling to apologize for—”

  “As well you should. I still can’t believe you spoke to me like that last night.”

  “Last night? I met you?”

  Momma paused. “Don’t play dumb with me. You know good and damn well you not only met me but you accused me of being a common whore.”

  “Momma, I didn’t—”

  “Don’t say another word. I’m busy. I have work to do. Although to hear you tell it, I spend all of my time on my knees or back.”

  Before I could get something together to say, she hung up on me.

  • • •

  I couldn’t wait for my next appointment with Dr. Spencer, which was two days away, so I called and requested to see her that afternoon. By two, I was in her waiting room.

  “What’s wrong, Jonquinette?” she asked when I finally managed to get into her office.

  “Something bad happened last night,” I managed to say through tear-drenched eyes.

  “Something bad like what?”

  “I was supposed to meet my mother for dinner and I went to church and everything was fine but then . . . then I don’t know what happened after that.”

  “You mean you blacked out?”

  “Exactly. I must have because I did meet her for dinner. At least, that’s what she said.”

  “And what else did she say?”

  “She accused me of calling her names and suggesting she was a whore and who knows what else.”

  Dr. Spencer propped her elbows on her desk. “But you didn’t do any of it?”

  “No, I mean yes. I mean, I guess I did. Who else could it have been?”

  “Jonquinette, I’ve done a lot of thinking about you since our first visit. Have you ever considered the fact that you might have multiple personalities?”

  I almost fainted. “Once or twice, but that doesn’t make sense. Then again, none of this makes sense.”

  “I really would like to explore that possibility. You have been plagued by these blackouts for a long time and obviously you are doing these things. Too many people have accused you.”

  I sunk down in the chair. “There was this one incident. When I was younger, in my teens, I heard my parents arguing one night.”

  “About?” she asked.

  “My father was trying to convince my mother that I needed counseling. She wouldn’t hear of it.”

  “So your father felt you needed therapy?”

  “Yes, he did. I often wonder if that’s what broke them up. I know that I was responsible for part of it. But then there was the other thing . . . ”

  I lowered my eyes to the floor. I really didn’t want to put my parents’ business out there that way, but opening up was opening up. I could tell she was waiting for me to continue.

  “My mother found out my father was cheating on her. Quite frankly, I never believed it. He seemed so in love with her. But apparently the evidence was there so that, coupled with the tension about me, caused her to throw
him out the house.”

  “So where is your father now?” Dr. Spencer asked.

  “He lives in North Carolina. He left home and went back to his hometown, took over my grandfather’s auto shop. He always loved working with his hands and fixing up old cars.”

  “So that was his career all along?”

  “No,” I replied. “My father was a computer programmer in Florida. I guess he just wanted a fresh start altogether and my grandfather died shortly after he returned home. The business was there and he just took it over and learned whatever it was he didn’t already know.”

  “Do you still keep in contact with your father?”

  That was a difficult question for me to answer. “Yes and no.”

  “Meaning?”

  “He writes me letters but I never answer them.”

  Dr. Spencer set up on the edge of her seat. “Why don’t you respond to them?”

  “Because . . . I’m torn. My mother is very dominant and opinionated. If I were to have a father-daughter relationship with him, she would view that as a sign of betrayal.”

  “So your mother is more important to you than your father?”

  I sat there for a moment, pondering the question. “I can’t really say that’s it. My mother has been there for me more than my father.”

  “But has that been by choice or circumstances?”

  I shrugged. “A little of both. If he really wanted to see me, he could find me. He has my address.”

  I could feel an anxiety attack coming on and apparently so could Dr. Spencer. “Let’s not dwell on that right now,” she said. “However, in the future, you might want to consider contacting your father. He may be able to bring some closure to whatever it is that’s troubling you.”

  “I’ve thought about going to see him,” I said honestly. “But I really don’t know what I could possibly say to him at this point, being that I’ve ignored him for so long.”

  “Are his letters written in a way that makes him seem bitter or just anxious to be a part of your life?”

  “He wants to be a part of my life. My father has never been mean to me. Not ever.”

  We continued talking for another thirty minutes. I felt a little bit better when I left but far from sane. What if there really was another person living inside of me?