by Zane
I smirked. “The better question is why are you doing this?”
“I’m not doing anything,” he stated defensively.
“Oh, yes the hell you are. You’re disrupting my flow. Everything was cool until you came into the picture. Life was exactly as it should be and then you came along with your smooth talk and pretty-ass face and fucked it all up.”
“You’re sounding crazy,” he said. “I thought we were feeling each other.”
“Well, you thought wrong.”
I wanted to make sure Mason never bothered Jon again. She was perfectly content with her bleak life until he entered it. His ass had to go.
“I’ll tell you what,” I said, pulling him by the hand into the apartment. “Let’s just get it over with.”
“Get what over with?” he asked.
“Fucking.” I bypassed the living room and continued down the hall to the bedroom, pushing him backward on the bed and straddling his thighs. “This is your ultimate goal anyway, right? Getting Jon in bed.”
I realized my slip immediately; referring to Jon in third person. Mason must have been too stunned to catch on because he didn’t reference it.
“You know you want this pussy,” I whispered, ripping the buttons off his oxford shirt. “I’m going to do you up real nice so you can move on to your next victim.”
He attempted to push me off without getting rough but I was relentless. Besides, I could feel his dick getting hard beneath me.
“I don’t consider women to be victims, Jonquinette,” the little puppy whimpered. “I thought you knew me better than that.”
I started licking up and down the center of his chest and then nibbled on his left nipple. “Just relax, baby,” I said. “I’m about to give you the fuck of the century.”
He flipped me over so that he was on top.
“Oh, you want to plummet in and out of me in this position, huh? Cool by me.”
I started trying to get my panties off but he grabbed both of my wrists and pressed them up above my head.
“Stop it, Jonquinette!” he yelled out.
I ground my hips underneath his dick and licked my lips. “Damn, I knew you were probably well-hung but shit! Let me put it in my mouth, Mason. Let me drain that long-ass pipe of yours.”
“Jon, stop talking like a whore,” he said. “You’re acting like some one-night stand a brother would pick up in a nightclub. That’s not like you.”
“Oh, but it is like me. It’s exactly like me. I am a whore. I’ve picked up so many men in clubs and fucked them that I lost count years ago.”
The pain in Mason’s eyes was obvious. That elated the hell out of me.
“That’s right. I’m a whore. I’m not even a common whore. I’m a major whore. I’ll give this pussy to whoever wants it, whenever they want it, and however they want it.”
Mason got off me, left the bedroom, and headed down the hall for the door. I followed him. “I’ll just talk to you later, Jonquinette. You must have had a bad day because I know you’re lying. For some reason, you’re trying to push me out of your life but it’s not going to be that easy. I won’t go away without a fight.”
“You won’t go away without a fight? This isn’t fuckin’ Romeo and Juliet. There’s no family feud going on here. I don’t want to be with you like that. If you want to fuck once and move on, then let’s fuck. But don’t harbor any delusions about this ever becoming more than that.”
He turned and stared me in the eyes. “This is already more than that. You and I both know it.”
He was really laying it on thick! You would have thought that Jon had fucked him silly by the way he was performing.
“I’m going to say this one more time,” I said, poking Mason in the chest. “I am a whore—pure and simple.”
“I don’t believe that.” He went out of the apartment and started down the steps. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Since you refuse to face reality, I’m just going to have to validate it for you.” I paused for a second before I went in for the kill. “Call up your buddy, Logan, and ask him if I’m a whore!”
He started back up the stairs. “What did you just say?”
“I didn’t stutter. Call Logan and ask him what’s up with me. Ask him what happened between me and him at the wedding reception. Ask him if he enjoyed the way I rode that big, juicy dick of his on top of that table in the back room.”
Mason seemed like he was trying to maintain his composure. I knew he wanted to beat the shit of me, or rather Jon. I was hoping he would jump so that I could really fuck up Jon’s relationship with him. I would have kneed his balls so hard that he would have felt the impact in the back of his throat.
Instead, he just stood there in silence momentarily and stomped down the steps.
“And don’t come back!” I yelled after him.
• • •
When I went out that night, I partied like it was 1999 all over again. After downing a series of two-dollar Jell-O shots at a tavern, a couple of brothers told me about a foam party being held at an “undisclosed location.” It didn’t interest me in the least until they said it was a “nude foam party.” Then I was down.
I trailed them in Jon’s car and we ended up at what appeared to be an abandoned warehouse. When we got inside, it was cold, wet, and crazy. There was this huge Plexiglas cage in the middle of the floor, which they called “The Playpen.” Fifty or more people were inside of it buck-ass-naked while a few dozen more hung around the bar area looking on.
An overhead machine was dropping gigantic bucketfuls of flyweight bubbles onto the crowd of people who were jumping around like children. I couldn’t wait to get in there. One of the men I followed to the party came up behind me and asked, “Wanna get naked with me?”
I slid my tongue into his mouth and then drew his bottom lip into my mouth and bit it gently. “I thought you’d never ask.”
We got naked and were welcomed into the cage by “The Goodwill Ambassador,” who was in charge of helping people in and out without them busting their asses and handing out towels.
As soon as we climbed in, they started a nude conga line. It was off the damn hook. The brother I was hanging with grabbed onto my ass instead of my hips and started caressing it. His slippery hands aroused me.
“What’s your name?” he asked over my shoulder. “I’m Dennis.”
I broke off the line and threw my hands around his neck, jumping up and locking my long legs behind his back. Even though I wasn’t feeling doing the stripper thing on the regular, I was still quite fond of the ingenious handle I’d come up with.
I kissed him on the tip of his nose, gazed into his eyes, and said, “Just call me Mercy because that’s what you’ll be begging me for once I slay your dick.”
The brother was no joke. He carried me over to the wall of the cage and pressed me up against it. I helped him guide his slick dick into me and it was on: the biggest foam orgy one could ever imagine.
28
jonquinette
“Open the fucking door!” was the first thing I heard when I woke up Saturday morning. I thought I was imagining things until I heard it again. “Open the fucking door now, bitch!”
I realized it was Darnetta and wondered out loud, “What did I do now?”
I got out of bed and inched down the hallway toward the door.
“Jon, I know you’re in there. Your car’s outside. Now open up this fuckin’ door!”
I debated about calling Mason and asking him to come upstairs, just in case things went really bad and I needed his help. But then I thought about it. Whatever Darnetta was mad about was more than likely something I would be humiliated for Mason to find out about. That’s the only reason I opened the door. I didn’t want my neighbors to think I had transformed from a quiet, shy woman to someone who had people banging on her door calling her a bitch.
I forced a smile and opened up. “Darnetta, what’s wrong?”
Before my reflexes could kick in, Darnetta ha
d punched me in the face. Instantly, I grabbed my nose and came back with a palm full of blood.
“You bitch!” she screamed out, storming into my place. “How could you? I thought we were friends.”
“I’ll be right back.” I went into the kitchen to get a dish towel to cover my nose. When I came back into the living room, Darnetta was probing through my things. “What are you doing?” I asked.
“Searching for evidence.”
“Evidence of what?”
“Evidence that my man has been spending time over here.”
I was stunned. “Darnetta, what’s this all about? I hardly know Logan. I’ve only met him one time, at the wedding.”
“Exactly,” she said, crossing her arms in front of her with an attitude. “The wedding.”
It suddenly hit me. Jude had done something foul at Smitty’s wedding. She’d done something with Logan. Oh no!
There was no point in denying something I couldn’t even remember. The only thing left to do was express regret.
“I’m sorry, Darnetta. For whatever happened, I am truly, truly sorry.”
Darnetta was so distressed that her entire body was trembling. “I’ve already dumped Logan. He’s history.”
I thought back to what Marcella mentioned about Jude using “the art of seduction” as some sort of power. I didn’t want to be the cause of someone’s relationship ending so I said, “Darnetta, it wasn’t Logan’s fault. I forced him.”
“Forced him?” She smirked. “He knew what the hell he was doing when he fucked you. He told me as much. He cried like a baby and I made him get down on his knees and beg for forgiveness. Then I made him kiss my feet.”
I let out a sigh of relief. “So you do plan to stay with him.”
“Fuck no. Like I said, Logan’s history. I made him do all of that and then I kicked him in the face. He has a bloody nose, too.”
I plopped down on my sofa. “I’m speechless, Darnetta. I don’t know what I can possibly do to right this wrong but I’m willing to do anything. Just name it.”
She came closer and hovered over me. “The only thing you can do for me is never speak to me again. I’m not quitting my job; I need it too damn much and the economy’s too bad to risk leaving before I find another one. I do intend to start an immediate search for something else, though.”
I shut my eyes and wished the entire nightmare would go away. Darnetta had the biggest mouth in the company and it was just a matter of time before the cat was out of the bag at the office. She would try to pit everyone else against me by making them feel sorry for her. I’d be lucky if Mr. Wilson didn’t fire me.
“Jon, you put up such a good front, acting all innocent and shit when you’re nothing but a slut.”
“I deserve that,” I said, even though I didn’t. I intended to agree with every word she said if it made her feel like she was accomplishing something.
“Well, you don’t have to worry about me coming by your office anymore. I don’t have jack shit to say to you, not today, not tomorrow, not ever.” Darnetta went for the door. I was relieved she was leaving. She paused in the entryway. “The only satisfaction I can take away in all of this is knowing that your shit is just as raggedy as mine.”
“What do you mean by that?” I asked in confusion.
She let out an evil laugh. “You’ll find out soon enough.”
She slammed the door behind her as I fell out in tears.
• • •
I was beginning to understand how people could turn to alcohol or drugs in desperate times. I felt like shit and couldn’t imagine what Monday morning and every morning after that was going to be like at work. The classified ads came out the next morning with the Sunday paper and I intended to have my head buried in them. Ironically, Darnetta and I would probably end up submitting résumés for some of the same positions.
Alcohol and drugs were not for me so I turned to the next best thing to relieve stress and make me forget everything: exercise. I dug through my closet for my favorite pair of running shoes, found my portable CD player in an old duffel bag, threw on some biker shorts and a sports bra tank top and headed out into the cool, late-September air.
I left my apartment around eleven and didn’t return until close to one. It’s amazing how the body can snap back after a period of slacking off. When I hit the wall, my top pace, the air kicking in and out of my lungs felt incredible. I could feel all the impurities leaving my body through my sweat and I felt so much better, even though my life was still in shambles.
As I was sitting down on the stoop to dig my key out of my sock, I saw Mason pulling into the parking lot. Instead of cutting his engine, he just sat behind the wheel and glared at me. When I’d first spotted his car, I was excited and hopeful that he could cheer me up after the encounter with Darnetta. But, from the way he was looking at me, I realized what Darnetta had meant when she said my shit was just as raggedy as hers. Mason knew about Logan and me. Darnetta was just a battle. Mason and I were about to have a war.
While I could have waited for him to get out so we could have it out on the front steps of our building or even worse, inside, where all the neighbors would surely hear us, I chose to face the music inside his car.
I walked over to his convertible Mustang and luckily, he had the top down so I didn’t have to tap on the window to gain entry. I reached over the passenger side door, unlocked it, and climbed in without an invitation.
“We need to talk,” I said.
He glowered at me. “Don’t you think you said enough last night?”
I almost choked on my breath. “Last night?”
“Yeah, last night.” He didn’t say anything else for a moment. He turned up the radio and started flipping stations until he came across “She’s Out of My Life” by Michael Jackson. He laughed and said, “How appropriate.”
I turned off the radio. “Mason, I need you to listen to me carefully.”
“Oh, Jonquinette, I think I’ve heard quite enough. First, from you last night and this morning from Logan.” He took his seat belt off and finally cut the engine. “I went over to his place and confronted him after you told me all about it.”
“I told you all about it?”
He glimpsed at me with disdain. “Yes, after you told me all about it sometime between admitting that you were a whore and stating that you just wanted to fuck me and get it over with.”
I slid down farther in the seat and tried to mask my eyes with my right hand.
“Oh, that’s right,” Mason added. “You’re not just a whore. How did you put it? You’re not just a common whore, but you’re a major whore. Did I say it right?”
I shrugged. I hadn’t a clue what Jude had said.
“Respond to me, dammit,” Mason demanded. “You got into my car and said we needed to talk, so talk.”
I had absolutely nothing to lose so I decided to tell Mason the truth.
“What I’m about to say is going to sound crazy, probably because it is.”
“Everything you said last night was crazy.”
“Last night, I didn’t say anything.”
Mason pondered over my statement in silence.
“Mason, the person you spoke with last night wasn’t me.”
“That’s the most ridiculous pile of shit I’ve ever heard!”
“I’m very serious. I’m going to say what I have to say and then I’m going to leave you alone. I’m only confessing to all of this because I don’t want you to misconstrue my actual feelings or think you did something to make me act as I have.”
Mason sighed. “Okay, say your peace.”
“I’ve never been with a man before in my entire life. I’ve never had sex. Not with Logan or anyone else.”
He chuckled. “All right, whatever.”
“All these years, I knew something was wrong with me but I never wanted to face facts. They started when I was just a child.”
“What started?”
“The blackouts.”
&nbs
p; “Blackouts? You can’t be serious.”
“I’m dead serious. I have these episodes when I lose chunks of time—sometimes large ones but mostly smaller ones.”
“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” he asked in dismay.
“I have a multiple personality disorder, Mason. Whatever transpired last night was between you and Jude, not you and me.”
“Jude?”
“Yes, that’s what she apparently calls herself.” I laughed nervously. “I’ve never met her but I heard it through the grapevine.”
“Hmph, well, I met her.”
I sat up in the car seat. “So you do believe me?”
“I believe that you weren’t yourself last night. I won’t go as far as to say that you were a different person. I’ve seen that sort of thing in movies but never in real life.”
“Well, it’s not as uncommon as you might think. Last week, I searched the internet and there are thousands of websites dedicated to the topic. I even read some testimonials from other people who have the disorder.”
Mason cleared his throat. “This is incredible.”
“There was even this one woman who had more than forty personalities who spanned in age from infancy to the elderly, both male and female.”
“Say I buy into this, Jonquinette. What can you do about it? Do you need to be in some sort of hospital?” he asked.
“Goodness, I hope that I don’t need to be hospitalized. I am seeing a doctor. She’s as sweet as can be.”
“Well, that’s a positive sign, right? The fact that you sought help?”
“Yes, it’s positive. I only wish I’d done it years ago.”
“So she’s treating you?” Mason inquired.
“She’s a psychiatrist so thus far, we’ve just done a lot of talking. I just found out that she met Jude during one of my sessions. Jude came out because she was pissed off about my trying to bring my daddy back into my life.”
“Then your daddy knows?”
“I told him.” I shifted in the bucket seat. “However, he already knew something was wrong. He always has. My mother just never wanted to hear about it or accept it.”