by Nikki Rashan
Her words excited me. I screamed and had one of the best orgasms I had had in a long time. With those innocent eyes and sweet mannerisms, Sam proved that her offer had been worthy of acceptance.
My mission had been accomplished beyond my satisfaction. And though my body relished the ecstasy, a sadness formed within me when I realized that the years I had shared my life with Kyla were over.
Kyla
Angie didn’t lie. She gave me all the energy my body craved. She was relentless in her desire to take me to a level of pleasure to which I had never been. I came over and over, again and again. And even with this pleasure, still I couldn’t shield my mind from thoughts and visions of Asia with Sam, and how the two of them must be laughing at me while they rolled together between Sam’s sheets.
My pussy throbbed when Angie released the dildo. She wasn’t done, though. Angie lowered herself again to my middle and began to suck. She sucked, licked, and penetrated me again, this time with her fingers. I tried to focus on the tip of Angie’s tongue against my clit, and the pressure of her index finger and middle finger against my G-spot.
How long had Asia been cheating on me?
The pressure of Angie’s sucking intensified.
What were they doing now? Was Sam pleasing Asia the way Angie was pleasing me?
My body twitched in anticipation.
Was Sam better than me?
Another orgasm formed and teased my senses.
Could Sam make Asia cum . . . like . . . this . . .?
The most intense orgasm of the afternoon shook my body, thanks to Angie’s tongue. I cried out Angie’s name, though my heart longed for Asia. I knew it was over.
The Exchange
Seventeen
Kyla
Asia stood in the doorway while I packed every item I could in the rest of my luggage. I had been in the house only a few minutes, and the only words spoken had been mine. “I’m here to get the rest of my stuff.”
It was Saturday morning, a week and a half after the morning I left. After Sam answered Asia’s phone and I realized Asia had been having an affair with her all along, I never called back, and she didn’t call me, either. I arrived at our house unannounced, half expecting Asia to be gone, and partly prepared to walk in and find Sam sleeping on my side of the bed. Instead, the house was quiet, and I found Asia upstairs in bed, still wrapped in the comforter. She didn’t appear to be sleeping, but was just lying there. My heart hurt at the sight of her, her jet-black hair covering the side of her face, partially concealing an expression I could not decipher. Wherever she was at that moment, her thoughts were not in the present. She hadn’t heard me come in and walk upstairs. She was startled when I spoke to her.
“I’m here to get the rest of my stuff,” I told her and headed straight to the walk-in closet and retrieved luggage that I hadn’t already taken to Angie’s. When I walked back into the bedroom, Asia had gotten up and stood in a pink nightie at the door. Her long, smooth legs caught my attention, though only a second later I pictured them wrapped around Sam’s head and I became repulsed. The line between love and hate had become increasingly invisible, and I crossed repeatedly from one side to the next, like the needle on a polygraph machine. Selfish as it might have been, I hated her for being with Sam. For making it seem like I was the only partner in our relationship who had a problem. At the same time, I loved her for every good memory I still had of her. Although I might have found solace in another woman’s arms, it hadn’t erased the nine years I had devoted to Asia. A minute later I remembered it was she who hadn’t been committed to me all nine years. And I hated her again.
I emptied my drawers containing T-shirts and lounging clothes first and my undergarment drawer next, while Asia watched. Intentionally, for her viewing, I held up the lacy, silky, sexy negligees I had purchased over the years. Finally, she spoke.
“It’s like that?” Her voice was raspy and angry.
“Yep.” I continued to fill the bag.
“I haven’t talked to you since you left, and then you come up in here, pulling out nighties and shit, flaunting whatever in the hell it is you and Angie have going on like that shit is cool.”
“You’re the one who asked me to leave.”
“You didn’t hesitate, either, did you?”
I rolled my eyes at her. “Like you wanted me to stay, anyway.” I resumed packing.
Asia didn’t respond immediately, then asked, “What’s that supposed to mean?”
I ignored her and went into the closet. I returned with an armful of business shirts. I shoved them into a suitcase. I’d worry about the wrinkles later.
“What are you talking about?” Asia asked again.
I stopped packing. “Check this out, Asia. I’m giving you what you want, okay? You wanted me out, so now I’m gone. What you should have done is told me you wanted out, instead of waiting so I could take the blame for this.”
“You are the reason for all this!” she yelled.
I couldn’t believe she was still acting as if she hadn’t done anything. “You keep wanting to make this all my fault.”
“Who else’s fault is it? Sure as hell isn’t mine.”
I went back into the closet and grabbed everything I could in one motion. I looked like an enraged, maniacal spouse who had just learned her husband had cheated on her. You’d think I was about to throw my own clothes out of the window into a blazing fire pit below.
I hurriedly stuffed the rest of my things into the last suitcase, scooped up my remaining toiletries in the bathroom, and prepared to leave. Asia blocked the door with her body, which was spread-eagle, like the Vitruvian Man.
“What, Asia?”
“I’m not about to let you walk up out of here with the audacity to think I made this shit happen,” she snapped.
“Whatever. Get out of my way.” I pressed a bag against her hip.
Asia started to sweat. Little droplets began to form at her hairline and around her nose. That happened only when her anger was borderline explosive.
“You fucked your two-timing friend, and you’re saying that it’s my fault?”
I took a small step back and looked her directly in the eyes. “You’re the one fucking Sam, and now you’re trying to stand here and play innocent, so, really, stop putting all this shit on me.”
Asia’s expression contained both surprise and guilt. Her breathing temporarily halted. She looked away and then stepped aside to let me out. Inside I cried at her silent confession. I had only assumed she had been intimate with Sam; by not denying my claim, she had proved that my assumption was correct.
I took the first two bags to my car, and when I returned for the last two, Asia’s back was to me while she stood in front of the window. Through the reflection I saw that her expression was calm but powerful.
“You know,” she said softly, “you had to know that someday all your indiscretions were going to come back to haunt you.”
“Excuse me?”
She turned around slowly. “How does it feel?”
“How does what feel?”
“To know you’re not the only one who can play your own game?”
She took a few steps toward me, then stood on the opposite side of the bed, her arms across her chest.
“What are you talking about?”
“You have to know I’m not the kind of woman to sit back and get played. Not again. Especially not by you. So I did what I had to do.”
My eyes began to water. I picked up the remaining bags, ready to leave.
“So this was to teach me a lesson? That’s what you’re saying?”
She nodded. “Of course.”
“For what?”
“Let’s just say I was in a position to do what no one else could. I got you back. Now you know that what you can do, someone else can do better. In more ways than one, by the way.” She smirked.
She stood firm and confident in her words. Her voice had softened, but her condescending tone hadn’t faltered a bit. Sh
e had played me and deceived me for what? For teetering between her and Angie? Had she sought vengeance for all the women I had dated in the past? Had she maintained a facade for years, in hopes that I would eventually mess up and she could come out about her own indiscretions? Had this been her mission all along? My heart told me no, that what we had was real. Her nonchalant words seemed to indicate otherwise.
“Well, I hope you’re glad your mission was accomplished.”
“I am.” She smiled. “It was worth it.”
“Fuck you, Asia.”
“No, boo. This is a fuck you. Haven’t you been listening?”
“I heard every word you said, and like I said, fuck you. I can’t believe this shit.” I turned around to leave.
“Remember you brought this on yourself.”
“I need to get out of here.”
“Nothing stopping you now. Bye.”
I walked out, and she slammed the door behind me. For emphasis, I supposed.
Outside I hurriedly tossed the luggage into my open trunk and closed it. I didn’t really want to, but I felt compelled to look up at the bedroom window before I drove off. She stood there, the pink silk of her nightgown illuminated by the morning sun. Although her arms were crossed against her chest and she loomed high above me, her posture was less intimidating than her words had been just minutes before. Her shoulders were hunched slightly, and her head was tilted in a slight solemn bow. I didn’t know what she had to be sad about. She had got what she’d asked for. I was gone.
Eighteen
Asia
I had to think fast when Kyla mentioned Sam’s name. I didn’t know how she found out about my afternoon with Sam or who would have told her. To my knowledge, Sam steered clear of the lesbian scene and knew few people in the lifestyle. She didn’t have a group of gay friends, wasn’t the partying type, and opted out of Pride events. In fact, I was happy to learn she hadn’t already known Kyla when they met at the Christmas party last year. That Kyla knew about Sam startled me, and quickly, I had to regain control before she could use Sam against me. I needed her to know she couldn’t toy with and disregard our relationship without repercussions. I wasn’t going to be one of her ex-women who tapped to her every beat. So what if I had been spiteful and childish, maybe even silly? Even though my spirit dimmed as I watched Kyla drive away, I had successfully shown her I could give my body to another as easily as she had. What I needed to figure out now was how she found out about it. It hadn’t come from me, and that left only one other person.
My interactions with Sam I had kept to a minimum since our lunchtime tryst. Ironically, I had behaved as Kyla had in the past, and had used a woman for sexual gratification, with no intention to pursue anything further. Sam had sent a couple of text messages with the suggestion that we connect again.
Later the same day, after I left her apartment, she wrote, I’m still full. So satisfying.
I didn’t respond.
The next day, after work, she texted, Lunch again? I’d love to try another course.
We’ll talk, was my reply.
I understood then I was not and never could be like Kyla. I didn’t desire only a physical relationship with a woman. I didn’t want to send explicit text messages to random women. I didn’t want to fuck people just for the hell of it. It wasn’t my style.
I probably would have ignored Sam’s requests until she grew tired and got the hint that I had no intention of entertaining her any further. But with the knowledge Kyla had about her, I couldn’t do that. I had to call.
“Hello, Sam.”
“Asia. Good morning to you.” Her voice was soft and flattering.
“How are you?”
“Better, now that you called. Glad to finally hear from you.”
“Sorry. Just been a little busy.”
Truthfully, I had spent too many days sitting in my office chair, contemplating the next stage of my life and how I would respond when I finally talked to Kyla again. I had, in fact, been lying in bed thinking of her, remembering the first time we made love. I remembered the evening clearly. It was just after Tiffany, one of the women she had been seeing along with Angie, had interrupted our first dinner at her apartment. The scene turned chaotic, with Tiffany issuing a final threat that karma would find its way back to Kyla. I trusted Kyla when she told me she had left Tiffany alone after that. I believed her when she said she wanted no one other than me. We gave ourselves to one another quickly and passionately.
I should have paid attention to the signs given to me that night. The fact that a crazed, clingy ex popped up showed Kyla clearly had unfinished business. Instead, I moved forward and did not hear the warning bells going off in my mind, the same way I didn’t hear Kyla enter the bedroom to collect the rest of her things. I found it odd that it was another ex that caused the demise of our relationship. As it began, so it ended.
“So what’s up?” Sam sounded disappointed by my response.
“About last week. Kyla knows about it. I’d like to know who you told.”
“I haven’t told anyone about us.”
“There is no us,” I said, correcting her. “Who did you tell about what happened?” I asked again.
“I haven’t talked to anyone about our lunch date,” she told me again, though it had to be a lie. I became agitated.
“How else would Kyla know?”
“I don’t know, Asia,” she answered innocently. “She didn’t tell you?”
“No. I’m asking you.”
Sam exhaled. “I wish I could tell you, but I have no idea.”
“I’m going to ask you one more time. You didn’t tell anybody about what happened?”
“I did not,” she said clearly, articulating each word so I wouldn’t ask again. “And maybe you shouldn’t worry about it. She knows. Does it matter how? She’s the one who left you, right?”
I avoided her last question. “I’d like to be sure this stays between us.”
“I think it’s too late for that. You might want to tell that to Kyla.”
“I’ll address Kyla when I need to.”
“I suggest you let it go. Who cares? You’re not together anymore, anyway.” Sam adopted the sweet tone I was accustomed to hearing. “So will we have another lunch? Maybe even dinner?”
I wanted to tell her, “Absolutely no,” but I couldn’t completely disregard her until I knew if she had lied to me. “Let me sort some things out here.”
“Don’t worry that pretty head of yours too much. What’s done is done. Maybe Kyla needed to know she shouldn’t have let such a good woman go free. It’s her loss, you know—”
I cut her off. “I’ll talk to you later, Sam.”
I didn’t trust her. I trusted her with my patients, but not on a personal level. She already seemed too confident that she and I had become more than a one-night stand. I prayed she hadn’t turned into my version of Tiffany.
There was no way she was being honest with me. She had to have told someone, and that person told Kyla. Or, maybe someone saw me at Sam’s apartment, but Kyla and I knew no one on that side of town. There was only one person who could answer the question for me, I thought, and then I wondered if Sam was right. Did it matter how Kyla had found out? To me it mattered. I didn’t need my business spread around, and if someone talked, I had to know who. Eventually, I would have to talk to Kyla and find out how she learned what I had wanted her to know, anyway.
Nineteen
Kyla
With a car packed full of items, I drove the streets of Atlanta with no particular destination in mind. Finally, I stopped at a small park and sat on a bench to watch ducks swim about a small pond. Although I owned a beautiful home in the suburbs and also had a key to an East Point apartment, I felt homeless. But unlike a bag lady, I felt neither pity nor sorrow for myself or my circumstances. I didn’t ask passersby for assistance, and no one stopped to offer me change or hand me a card with the name and location of a shelter I might consider. No, there was no need to worry
about me. I sat and stared ahead because I felt lost. Asia’s callous casualness had rattled me. For almost nine years I had remained monogamous and committed to a woman who wanted only to seek revenge for a past that didn’t involve her. Never would I have thought that was Asia’s true character. During our time together, she had been the antithesis of that.
The ducks fluttered about the water, squawking at one another and darting about in circles. The sun spread its light across the pond, and its mirror image was visible in shining twinkles across the surface. The weather had warmed to a welcoming sixty-five degrees in mid-March, and I appreciated the quiet time to think. I hadn’t had any time alone since I had been at Angie’s. Angie was up almost every morning before I woke, and I’d hear her in the kitchen, preparing breakfast for us. Twice she had omelets ready, which she served to me in bed at six thirty. One morning she had whipped together a sausage burrito, which sat ready on the table once I was dressed and about to leave for work. Another day she prepared a generous helping of hash browns and scrambled eggs. She seemed eager to prove she could be the woman she had promised she could be.
Throughout the workday Angie would send text messages to check on me. At least once an hour and between her appointments, I received reminder messages of how much I meant to her and how happy she was that I was at her place. She delighted in knowing that a few hours later I’d return to her. Oddly, the evenings we’d spent together thus far were similar to my nights at home with Asia. We sat next to one another on her living-room sofa, where we chatted about the day or watched whatever I chose on television while Angie pretended to watch next to me. Our interactions were smooth, calm, and easy. No conversation or exchange was overly exciting or stimulating, and I had begun to wonder if I truly had been missing anything besides breakfast in bed.
We avoided Asia, the topic that had me weighed down. I hadn’t told Angie what I learned about Asia and Sam, and Angie hadn’t pressed further on the issue of when Asia and I would sever the ties that bound us together. Angie seemed happy enough with my presence, more and more confident that it would be her and me in the end.