by Nikki Rashan
David sighed. “On occasion we’ve allowed other men in our bed with us,” he confessed. “Only together. Never separate. It would be cheating if one of us did it alone.”
My eyes bucked. “What? I can’t believe you never told me this!”
“Pop them eyeballs back in your head, girl. I ain’t got to tell you everything,” he said, defending himself.
“But threesomes, David? How does that help your relationship?”
“It keeps our relationship healthy.”
I became angry. “So you’ve been on me about how I was feeling about Angie, and now you want to tell me you and Marlon have been sleeping with other men in your relationship? How is that right? How is that any better?”
“Because it’s not cheating. We agree on it. What’s also different is you had feelings for Angie, or so you said. We don’t have any emotional connection to the men. It’s just sex. That’s all. Purely physical. Don’t forget about the threesome trysts in your past. You were the side woman. Did you feel like the woman you were with was cheating on her man with him right there? No. I don’t claim that what we do is right for everybody. It’s not. Every now and then it works for us. It’s open, honest, and we keep it safe. Best way to do it if you’re going to do it.”
“So if I had told you instead that me and Asia and Angie had all been sleeping together, you would have supported it? Or better yet, all four of us, Deidra included?”
“I didn’t say that, and you’re taking it too far.”
“No I’m not. You just have double standards. I can’t believe you. I’m disappointed.”
“Don’t be disappointed. I love Marlon, and he loves me. The occasional men we let in our bed are there for nothing but ass.”
I covered my ears.
“Honey boo, stop acting shy after you just came from sucking on somebody else’s kitty cat. Remember, my relationship is sharp and intact, honey. It’s yours that we’re repairing. Now, if you plan to have a long monogamous relationship with Asia, let’s make that happen.”
“You have just blown my mind. I can’t even think straight right now.” I shook off visuals of David and Marlon having sex with other men, but together.
“You’re a big girl, Kyla. Don’t go getting elementary on me about this.”
“I’m not. I’m just saying. I never would have thought. You never know what people are doing behind closed doors.”
“That’s true, because it’s nobody else’s business. Unless someone is hurting somebody, which you were. Now, forget about Marlon and me, and let’s figure you out. What are you going to do to wet her appetite again?”
I raised my eyes to the ceiling in thought. “I could buy her flowers.”
“Humph,” David scoffed. “Go deeper.”
“Spa, mani and pedi day? Romantic dinner?”
“Typical, but you’re getting there. What else?”
I thought more and tried to recall all the moments that had made Asia smile. “One of her favorite singers is on tour and coming to Atlanta soon. I can get us concert tickets.”
“Now you’re getting hot.”
“These are all things, David. Anybody can buy her something. How can I prove I love her and won’t hurt her again?”
“By doing just that. Stop thinking about it, put your Nike shoes on, and just do it. These gifts are all the extra perks to show how much you do care.”
So I did. I placed an order of two dozen roses for delivery on Tuesday. I went online to purchase tickets for the soulful songstress’s concert in a few weeks. While online, I came across an old CD of the artist’s that Asia didn’t have. I called a small, old-school independent record store, and they had it in stock. I’d pick it up and present it to her as a prelude to the show.
I called Nakia at work and asked her to retrieve a size six, slim-fitting, chocolate-colored crochet dress that had been placed on the racks a couple of weeks ago. It was perfect for the same colored heels Asia had purchased months prior but had nothing to wear with. I wanted her to wear the dress to dinner.
“You worked things out?” Nakia asked happily.
“Yes. I’m back home, where I belong.”
“Good. So happy for you. Before I go, let me tell you what Aidyn did Sunday.”
I spent the next three minutes listening to Nakia describe Aidyn’s first soccer practice experience and how his little, swift feet outsmarted the young players on the other teams. “We have a David Beckham on our hands, I’m telling you. My little man is just as handsome too.”
“Yes, he sure is. Don’t forget the dress. Take it up to my office, please.”
“You got it. We’ll have you two over for dinner again soon. Aidyn would love to see his godmomma.”
“It’s a date.”
Next, I made reservations at an upscale Italian restaurant Asia favored for Thursday evening. Finally, I scheduled after-work massages, manicures, and pedicures at an expensive hotel and spa. I booked us a whirlpool suite with a city view for Friday night.
“How’s that?” I asked David after my calls.
“It’s a great start. You’ll have to keep this up. Keep her happy, keep her smiling, and keep up the momentum.”
“I’ll go broke if I keep this up.”
“She’s worth every penny, isn’t she?”
I laughed. “She won’t want me with an empty bank account, will she?”
“She seems dedicated to you for better or for worse.” David snapped his fingers. He had an idea. “Maybe that’s it. You two should get married.”
“Married?”
“Honey, yes. Every lesbian is walking around these days flaunting a ring on her left finger. You can’t just be in a relationship anymore. You have to be engaged or married. Don’t you know that’s the in thing?”
I had heard through friends of friends about a few lesbian couples that had gotten hitched. I hadn’t considered it for me and Asia. It wasn’t legal in Georgia and seemed like a waste of time, energy, and money.
“I don’t think so, David. I love Asia, but what’s the point?”
“To profess your love to one another.”
“We’ve already done that. Privately, just me and her.”
“I hear you, baby. You could at least get rings. Both of you are walking around with bare hands, looking unattached. Claim your woman, honey.”
“Don’t you think that seems desperate? Like I’m trying too hard to make myself seem like I can commit?”
“Maybe so. Think about it before you dismiss it, though. Janet said, ‘Diamonds are a girl’s best friend.’”
“You are really trying to break me, aren’t you?”
“Trying to help you do anything to keep you and Asia together and happy.”
“Thanks, but let us get past these first few weeks before I get on bended knee.”
“Good. Now that you have the rest of the week planned out, what will you do tonight?”
I hadn’t thought about the evening. It was Asia’s reality show night, and I didn’t know if she’d want to be distracted by other plans. I shared this with David.
“That’s the problem, girl. You two are too set in your routine. That’s why the DVR was invented. Record that shit, and come up with something else to do.”
“Stop yelling at me. I got this.”
“Handle it, then, baby. Do your thing.”
“Run to the store with me?”
David checked his watch. “I have a little time before I need to get home.”
“Thanks. First, I have to take care of something I should have done earlier.”
From my drawers I removed every intimate item I had showcased for Asia the day I packed and left for Angie’s. I had to get rid of everything that might bring back memories of Angie. I stuffed them in a garbage bag, and then I tossed the bag in the trash bin outside. Once in the passenger seat of David’s car, I grabbed my cell phone, scrolled through my contacts until I found Angie’s name, and hit DELETE.
Are you sure you want to dele
te this contact? the phone asked.
I was sure. I hit OKAY.
Thirty-six
Asia
I had an attitude all day. What I had learned about Sam and Tiffany irritated me, and I couldn’t let it go. Even my revenge on Kyla had backfired, and it would forever be associated with her prior indiscretions with Tiffany. I had worked hard to erase what I knew of Kyla’s sexual promiscuity, and unfortunately, it would be in my face each time I saw Sam. Sam and I each had our own vendetta, both geared toward the same person.
When I thought about it some more, I gave Kyla an ounce of credit in the situation. She had been honest with Tiffany by telling her she no longer wanted to see her. It was Tiffany who couldn’t handle the truth. And Kyla had been honest with me about her feelings for Angie. And it was I who couldn’t handle her truth. Both Tiffany and I had responded from fearful, insecure places with our vengeful actions. I wasn’t big on self-help psycho babble, but I had learned that from the magazine article I read while Melanie and Jovanna were in town.
Regardless of Sam’s intentions, I had to follow Jovanna’s advice and honor the demand I had made of Kyla: not to bring up the past. I wasn’t going to tell her about Sam and Tiffany’s relationship as cousins, mostly because I didn’t want her to know my cheating had been in vain. Sam and I had gotten what we wanted, yet I still felt slighted.
Kyla had been quiet most of the day. She had sent me just one text, saying she hoped the conversation went well with Sam. That’s over too, was my response. Her car was in the garage when I got home at seven. Before I opened the door, I could smell garlic in the air. My mouth responded, and I swallowed. Inside the kitchen Kyla stood next to the table, with a timid smile on her face, comfortable in black jeggings, a yellow T-shirt, and an apron I bought her years ago that said I ONLY LOOK LIKE I COOK.
“Hi. Let me get that for you,” she said quickly, then reached for my bag and took it out of my hands. “Welcome home. I made dinner. Here. Sit. Relax.” She took a chair out for me.
I sat.
“I’ll get you something to drink. What would you like? Wine? Something stronger?”
She hadn’t put my bag down before she was in the cabinets, searching. The straps rested in the crook of her arm.
“I can make you anything you want,” she offered, breathless, her words streaming together.
I softened. She was trying to make up and was so nervous, she couldn’t stop her rambling chatter.
“Hungry? Do you want this? Let me get you a plate. It’s a garlic shrimp pasta. I hope you like it.”
“Kyla.”
“That’s not what you want? I can make something else. Whatever you want.” Kyla opened another cabinet and shuffled through boxes and cans. She frantically searched for ingredients to make an entirely new meal. “There’s some rice in here. I can thaw some chicken too,” she offered.
“Kyla.” I stood and walked over to her. I took the bag from her and set it next to the refrigerator. I rubbed my hands down her arms. “Breathe, honey. Breathe.”
“I just want everything to, you know, get better. Be better.”
I hugged her, and she rested her head on my shoulder. “It will be,” I told her. “Day by day, remember?”
She exhaled, her breath warm against my chest. “Okay. Let’s eat. You ready? Sit back down.”
I washed my hands and took a seat back at the table. We ate quietly initially. I think both of us were afraid to begin a routine conversation about our day. And on that particular day I didn’t think either of us wanted a rundown of the day’s events. The details of my conversation with Sam, I wasn’t going to share. It wasn’t necessary to rehearse the details of her moving back in, either.
“Guess what I found out today?” she asked suddenly.
“What?”
“David was here today, helping me. Anyway, he told me that he and Marlon have threesomes sometimes.”
I quickly shoved a bite of food in my mouth. So it runs in the family, I thought. “That’s surprising. They seem so solid.”
“That’s what I said.”
“Personally, I don’t understand the purpose of being together if you’re going to openly fuck other people. What kind of relationship is that? That’s just an excuse for people who don’t know what real commitment is. Real commitment is faithful, monogamous, honest, and involves two people. I can’t be the only person who still believes in that, could I?”
“No. No, you’re not. So yeah, that’s that,” she said softly. Her eyebrows turned upward in desperation. She had realized that was the wrong topic to discuss. She started over. “I made plans for us for Thursday and Friday nights. I hope you’re okay with that.”
“If it’s me and you, I’m okay with that.” I smiled. Visibly, she relaxed. Her shoulders unfurled, and she straightened, her confidence restored.
“Oh!” I wiped my mouth with the napkin from my lap. “It’s almost time for my show.”
Her lips curled into a delicate smile. “Not tonight. We’re recording it. I have something else planned for us.”
“But that’s my show. You know that,” I protested.
“Watch it later on DVR,” she said, and I protested no further.
We finished dinner, and I was both surprised and pleased that Kyla didn’t ask me questions about my conversation with Sam. Instead, she quickly piled the dirty plates, glasses, and utensils in the dishwasher.
“Ready?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“Right this way.”
She led me into the family room, where she had moved the large coffee table, clearing the space in the middle of the room. Covering the carpet was a portable dance floor, and at its edge were two pairs of four-anda-half-inch heels, a pair for each us, it appeared.
“Instead of dancing with the stars on TV tonight, let’s dance with each other. I bought a learn-at-home instructional DVD with all kinds of dances on it. Salsa, waltz, all that stuff. Let’s teach ourselves.”
I really wanted to see one of my favorite celebrities perform as he was close to winning the entire competition. He could wait, though. Kyla’s spontaneous gesture was a sweet and refreshing surprise.
“This is too sweet, Kyla. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Come. Put your shoes on.”
I removed my Adidas and put on the ankle-strapped heels. Kyla did the same and inserted the DVD. A vibrant Hispanic woman welcomed us to dance with her and her attractive male partner. We selected a fun cha-cha for our first attempt. We learned the basic count, though we stumbled over each other’s feet. We watched the professionals perform each new step, and after each one the woman would turn to the camera and point enthusiastically and say, “Your turn!” It didn’t take long for us to pick up the routine, which was only a few minutes long. We held hands, twisted our bodies in unfamiliar directions, and wound our hips, making gyrating motions. Warm and sweaty, we slapped high five when we mastered the dance, or so we thought.
“No wonder all those people on the show lose so much weight. That’s a lot of work,” I said as I sank onto the couch, tired. “That was fun.”
Kyla plopped down next to me. “Next week, new dance?”
“Absolutely.” I kissed her sweaty nose.
“It’s only nine forty-five,” Kyla observed. “Your show is still on. Want to catch the end?”
We took off our shoes and turned the channel to the show. We tuned in just as the spotlight shone on the famous actor, whose arms were wrapped tightly around his sexy dance instructor. The host then announced that they had made it to the show’s finale. He was on his way to winning. His partner jumped into his arms, and they hugged. I smiled to myself and kissed the top of Kyla’s head. I was on my way to winning, too.
Thirty-seven
Kyla
Asia and I still hadn’t made love. Even after the flowers, the concert tickets, and the romantic dinner, there was no sex. At night we held each other tenderly, though we hadn’t connected intimately. One night I began
a stroke up and down her spine slowly and softly. I felt the heat between her thighs as her body responded. She breathed deeply, but her body suddenly stiffened. I didn’t know what to do, so I rested my hand at her waist and went to sleep. The following night Asia leaned in for a good-night kiss just after our heads rested on the pillows. The kiss deepened, our lips happily reunited. Until Asia abruptly backed off once again.
My body missed and craved her, especially as we lay next to one another for our couple’s massages. I wanted my hands to caress Asia’s body and bring about the soft moans that escaped her mouth when the masseuse rubbed her in the right spots. It was Asia’s hands I desired against my skin, rubbing my calves and thighs. I had to have her. I had grown tired of knowing Sam was the last woman she had been intimate with.
An hour later, we were back in our suite, our bodies soft and scented with seductive jasmine flower oil. Asia was sprawled facedown on the bed in yoga pants and a T-shirt.
“I feel so good. That was just what I needed,” she moaned.
I stood at the foot of the bed, hovering above her. “Is that all you need?”
“Hmm?” Her question was muffled by the sheets.
I crawled above her on the bed and kissed the bottom of her spine through her shirt. “I asked if that’s all you need.”
Asia rolled over to face me. The hesitancy she had previously exhibited had diminished. “I was hoping you’d ask that.”
Her face was bare, and yet she was more beautiful than ever. Her dark eyes betrayed her yearning for me. Her breathing was already heavy.
“Well? What do you need?”
“You,” she told me. “I need you. Come here,” she requested.
I bent to her parted mouth and kissed her. Her tongue was as soft and warm as the touch of her skin. We kissed deeply, passionately, slowly, then aggressively. Asia ran her hands up and down my waist, caressing me through my tank top, until finally her fingertips found their way underneath and explored my skin. We still kissed. Her thumb circled my navel, and then her hands rose to my breasts, cupping, squeezing, pinching.