I swayed my hips over to him. And since he stands at sixtwo and I’m six inches shorter, I lifted on my toes and kissed his succulent lips. He had gargled. Yum, did he taste good.
“Damn, baby, you look good enough to eat.” His golden gaze dropped down to my cleavage. The twins stood to attention. My nipples hardened under his intense stare. “Why don’t we take this to the bedroom?” he suggested, then kissed me twice more.
I was tempted, but I had gone to way too much trouble. “Not yet, Romeo. There’s plenty of time for that later. Now sit.” I moved over the bucket, reached for the bottle of wine, and popped the cork.
“Noelle, what’s the occasion?”
“Nothing . . . just thought we’d eat in the dining room for a change. It seems like the only time we ever use this room is during the holidays. All this table does is collect dust.” I waited until he took his place at the head of the table before I came around and poured him a glass of Moscato.
“Thank you, baby.” I poured myself a glass and took a seat; then we bowed our heads so he could say grace: “. . . and Lord, bless the hands that prepared this food. Amen.” Grant dug in and his moans told me the food was good. Soft music, good food and wine, I had set the perfect mood.
“How was your day?” I asked, because I read in O magazine it’s important for couples to share their day-to-day lives together.
He gave a pained look. “Kids. Some days I love teaching; others, I want to hit some of them upside their hard heads. Girls coming in with tits and ass showing, and got nothing but attitude. I don’t know what happened to parenting.”
I shook my head, feeling his pain. I never could understand how he could do it. There was no way in hell I could have tried to teach someone else’s bad-ass kids. “I know. I hear the women in the salon complaining all the time about the girls their sons bring around. Not that the boys are any better.”
“Mmmm, baby, this is good,” Grant said after taking a bite of his steak. I made sure it was medium, warm with a slightly pink center, just the way he liked it. “No, in my opinion, the boys are worse. When I was growing up, my mother would have knocked me clear into next week for some of the shit these kids say and do.”
“I know that’s right,” I replied with a chuckle. My mother-in-law, with her bougie behind, was no joke. While we ate, Grant and I talked about my day at the salon. At the back of my mind, I wanted to ask him about the beer, but I left it alone. We were having too good an evening to ruin it.
The song ended and an old mix CD I had in the five-disk changer came on. I started rocking my hips the second I heard Atlantic Starr’s “Secret Lovers.” “Ooh, Grant, remember that used to be our song?”
“It sure was.” He rose from the chair and took my hand; we moved into the living room and Grant held me in his arms. I rested my head on his chest, smelling Jay-Z’s new cologne, 9IX. I had bought it for him for Father’s Day.
“Noelle, this is nice,” he replied as we swayed to the music.
“I know. We need to do this more often.”
“Yes, we do.” He pressed his lips to my forehead, cheek, and lips. “How about we go up to bed and do a different kind of dance?”
He ain’t said nothing but the word. We moved to our bedroom, dropping articles of clothing along the way. By the time I was lying flat on my back, Grant was slipping his boxers off. I stared down at his erection standing at proud attention. My husband doesn’t have the biggest dick in the world, but it was perfect, just like the rest of him, and he definitely knew how to work it.
Grant kneeled down on the floor beside the bed and slid my hips down toward the edge. “Open your legs,” he ordered.
Desire throbbed through my body. My baby was about to do what only he knew how to do. Have his just dessert. I opened wide and he grabbed on to my thighs and pulled me into position. The first lick from his velvety tongue about sent me in convulsions. He always knew how to find my spot. Sensations began to build with each stroke. I grabbed his head, loving the feel of his thick curly hair between my fingers. My hips began to rock and move frantically. How could I have gone more than a week without him? Grant had skills. I held him in place as I rubbed hard against his tongue until I finally exploded. He continued his magical strokes until my breathing slowed.
“Mmmm, come here,” I purred and pulled him up beside me on the bed. There was no way I was letting him go unsatisfied. “That felt so good.” I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him down for a kiss. The kiss was so deep I started squirming. “Baby . . .” I whined.
“What?”
“Hurry up.”
“Tell me what you want.”
“You, Grant. I want you to make love to me.” I was slick, wet, and ready.
He straddled me. “How bad do you want it?” The intensity of his expression made me shiver.
“Real bad,” I whimpered. “I need you.” Grant entered me slowly. So slow he was driving me crazy. I wrapped my legs around him and pulled him deeper. “Ohhhh.” I exhaled. That felt good. His strokes were slow and controlled. He pulled almost completely out before sliding deep inside again. I thrashed around on the bed because he was torturing me, or better yet punishing me. I would never deny my husband what was rightfully his, because I definitely didn’t want him making love to anyone but me. Soon he picked up speed, plunging deep inside, and I moaned loud and clear.
“Noelle,” he hissed as he tried to maintain control. I tightened my walls around him, and it wasn’t long before he was screaming my name and stroked hard and fast until we both came together. I laid there with him in my arms, rubbing the sweat on his back and raining kisses to his cheeks. This was the way I wanted things to always be between us.
“Grant?”
“Yeah, baby.”
“I . . . I want another baby.”
Grant jackknifed straight up in the bed. “Excuse me?”
He heard me. That was just his way of avoiding the question. “Grant, I didn’t stutter. I want another baby.”
He gave a strangled laugh. “I thought we were through taking in foster children?”
I shook my head. Okay, maybe he truly didn’t get it. “No, I don’t want someone else’s baby. I want a daughter of my own.”
Grant started laughing. “You’re kidding, right?”
“Why would I be kidding?”
“Because we’re too old.”
“Speak for yourself. I’m not even forty yet, but I can’t say the same about you.” I poked his beer belly for emphasis. He quickly sobered.
“Noelle, what I’m saying is . . . Scott is gone, and for the first time in eighteen years we have the house all to ourselves. Why would you want to change that?”
“You know I always wanted a daughter of my own. Foster children were great, but I’ve always wanted to have another baby. It just never happened for us, but I would like for us to try again even if I have to be artificially inseminated.”
Sighing, Grant rolled over in the bed and rose. “I really don’t want any more.”
“Why not?”
He swung around. “Why do you think? Because we can finally enjoy our lives. No more babysitters and screaming kids. For once I can run around my own house naked.” My eyes dropped to his dick. Yes, and he looked good doing it. “Sweetheart, I don’t want another child. All I want to do is to enjoy my wife.”
“Baby—”
Grant held up his hand. “Baby nothing. How about we go on a trip? I hear Aruba is really nice this time of year. How’s a week out under the tropical sun sound?”
A vacation did sound like a good idea. We hadn’t had one in years. “How about it? School will be out soon for the summer and I’m sure Tiffany can take care of the salon for a week.”
Grant started rubbing my ankles. He knows that does things to me. “Well . . . it does sound like fun.”
“Of course it is. Noelle . . . I don’t want another baby. I want just you. Only you.” He kissed my lips.
“Okay, I guess.” Maybe he w
as right. Maybe a baby wasn’t the answer. All I could do was hope a vacation would bring us closer again.
4
Candace
“How about me taking you to dinner after you get off tonight?”
I glared up at the tall light-skinned brother standing on the other side of the desk with the balls to ask me out. No, he didn’t.
Okay, let’s look at this picture: We were at the Southside Medical Clinic on 95th and Thursday evening was free clinic night, or better known as STD night. Dude was here because he got a call from one of our nurses informing him that someone he’d had sexual contact with had contracted a sexually transmitted disease. The only reason why I was there was because I worked as a receptionist.
“Yo, sexy. You wanna have dinner or what?”
It took everything I had not to blast him for even thinking I’d been interested in even walking his infected ass to the door. “Nah, boo.” He looked so surprised by my answer, it took everything I had not to laugh. Are you serious?
As soon as he returned to his seat, Brenda, one of our licensed practical nurses, moved over beside me. “Did he just ask you out?” she whispered.
“Girl, yes.” I rolled my eyes and reached for the next patient’s file. “He’s got some balls.”
“Yeah, but you don’t want what’s growing down there.”
I practically choked with laughter. Homeboy looked me dead in my face, so I swung my chair around and got back to work, checking patients in.
I’ve been working for the clinic for going on two years. It was barely above minimum wage, but it definitely beat a blank. The best thing about working there, and the main reason why I hadn’t already quit, were the benefits. With a 3-year-old, I definitely needed something.
I called the next patient back, then glanced down at her patient history and cringed. She was being treated for genital warts. When I first started working here, I watched a tape they kept in the education department on sexually transmitted diseases. Warts were nothing nice. The patient was 33. I couldn’t understand how someone her age could be so careless. Watching those videos and working at the Southside Medical Clinic had been a rude awakening for me. I learned that when you have unprotected sex with someone, you’re sleeping with them and everyone else they have slept with. That shit was reality and ain’t nothing to take lightly.
The rest of the evening went smoothly. I hated Thursday nights because it would be close to eight before I finally got out of there. Then I had to be in at nine tomorrow.
I had just sent another patient back to see the doctor when I happened to look up and see Pierre step into the clinic. At one time, I thought he might have been my prince, but he never gave me a chance, not that I was complaining.
“Hey, Pierre.”
“Hey, Candace. Can you let Gloria know I’ll be out front waiting?”
“Sure.” I watched him leave, admiring the way he moved in jeans, then shook my head. He was proof that everything that looked good isn’t always good for you. He dated Gloria. An America’s Next Top Model wannabe. I worked the front desk while she worked the back office, processing insurance claims. Several months ago, I had just met Pierre at the candy store on the corner when he dropped by the office one afternoon to ask me out to lunch. My daughter Miasha was sick, so I had to leave early and declined. Gloria’s sneaky ass stole him from me while my back was turned. I didn’t know it then, but she had actually done me a favor. Since we’re contracted by the city, we have access to the State of Illinois Heath Department’s database. I looked Pierre’s ass up in our computer and discovered he had been a patient three years ago. Treated for chlamydia. Why in the world would Gloria want a man who didn’t even care enough about himself to use a condom? I wasn’t giving my coochie up to just anybody. Now, don’t get me wrong; I wasn’t like my girl Tiffany, saving myself until I get married. I respected my girl’s decision; however, there was no way in hell I’d marry somebody before I knew what he was working with. On the same token, I wasn’t trying to sample every piece of dessert in the bakery window either. But when I do, trust and believe, I make sure he uses a condom. When the relationship’s over, I wanted it to be the end. I don’t have time for someone from the health department calling to tell me someone I screwed had been treated for an STD and I needed to come in. I had more respect for myself than that.
I guess having a strong man in my life made a big impact on my life. I am the daughter of a Baptist preacher. Although my father is Mexican, he was raised in black churches. That’s how he met my mama. Papa said he fell in love the moment he heard her singing in the choir. Together they built Lift Every Voice, which is one of the largest churches on Chicago’s south side. For years, my whole life was about going to church at least four times a week. I believe in worshipping God, but almost every day of my life can be a bit much. Nevertheless, my parents had been together thirty years, and I wanted the same thing and refused to settle for anything less. That’s why me and Miasha’s daddy weren’t together. Speaking of Tyree, I reached inside my purse for my phone and sent him a text message. Daycare was due and he still hadn’t given me his half. It didn’t make any sense that every week I had to track his ass down just to get paid.
“Excuse me, miss, but how much longer before I get to see the doctor?”
I glanced up at this cute white guy with the prettiest light gray eyes and grinned. “Not sure. There are three people ahead of you. You just have to wait your turn.”
His eyes darkened with concern. “You don’t understand, I need to see the doctor now. I’ve got to get home before my wife does.”
“Your wife?” I said, looking at Brenda out the corner of my eyes. “If anything, your wife should be down here with you.”
He looked at me like I was crazy. “Have you lost your mind? I’m not telling my wife about this. You know how many times she told me if I messed around I better not bring anything home? Well, that’s why I’m here.” No. He was here because he didn’t have enough respect for his wife to use a condom. “Listen . . . I’ve been avoiding my wife for two weeks, but tonight she’s not taking no for any answer!”
Brenda moved up to the desk. “So what do you want us to do?”
He glanced over his shoulder and made sure no one was listening before saying, “Can I get a prescription, or better yet something I can give her while she’s sleeping?”
“In her sleep? Dude, you going to have to talk to the doctor about that.” It disgusts me every time a married man comes up in here. If he had been home like he was supposed to be, then he wouldn’t have to be at some free clinic getting a shot in his ass.
Most of the patients at our clinic were disgusting. Every evening I went home and took a hot shower like I was afraid I might catch something from this place. But I must say, getting a job at the clinic was the best thing that could have ever happened to me. It was an eye-opening experience that taught me to respect myself.
I was so happy when the last patient took his STD-carrying behind out the building. As soon as the door shut, I grabbed the bottle of Lysol and sprayed the lobby.
“That’s not how you catch gonorrhea.” Gloria cackled as she moved to the front office.
I rolled my eyes toward the ceiling. “Whatever, I’m not taking any chances.” As fast as STDs were spreading around the city, you would have thought it was the flu.
“Have you seen Pierre?”
I took in her big bubble brown eyes, small nose, and thick painted lips. At five-eight, she could have been cute if she wasn’t so damn skinny. “Yeah, he said he’ll be waiting out front.”
“Thanks. That man is sooo good to me.” She grinned like her man was really all that, then swung her purse over her shoulder. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
I watched her leave, hoping she contracted something a shot in the ass couldn’t cure. I used to feel sorry for Gloria, but not anymore. She’s one of those women who’s looking for love in all the wrong places, and sleeping with any man who looked in her direction. That ch
ick was in love if her date treated her to dinner and a movie. Seriously, Gloria’s been with more men than I can count, and I’d only been working at the clinic almost two years. I watched her leave and shook my head. She was the epitome of everything I never wanted to be.
I took the 95th Street bus to Halsted, then walked to my parents’ house. Pappa hated me being out on the streets at night. I agree. The neighborhood was nothing like it was when I was a kid. Drugs and crime were everywhere. But I didn’t have a car. Not anymore. The one I had broke down a month ago. Engine locked up. No oil. Can you believe that shit? I guess I should have asked someone what that knocking sound was. Luckily for me, my job was barely three miles from my apartment.
I stayed long enough to talk to Mama and promised to pay my daycare bill on Friday when I got paid. I was sick of having to make promises I couldn’t keep. If Tyree would take care of his responsibility, I wouldn’t have that problem. He thought since my mother was watching her granddaughter, she shouldn’t charge me. Business is business, but he wouldn’t know anything about that.
My apartment was only two blocks up from my parents’ house, but my father always insisted on taking us home when I worked late. I loved my father. We had always been close. I had three brothers, but I was his only little girl.
“I really wish you’d move back home with me and your mother. I hate that you don’t have a car,” he said when we were a block from his house. I’d been hearing the same thing for almost a month.
“I’ll buy another car in September.” I was waiting to buy one when I got my student loan check.
“If you won’t accept a gift, I could buy you one and you can pay me back?”
I looked over at my father with his golden brown face and fine salt-and-pepper hair. How I loved that man. “No thanks, Papa. You do too much as it is.”
“There is no such thing as doing too much for your kids. You remember that.” He pulled in front of my building and was putting the car in Park when I heard him growl, “What the hell is he doing here?” He then started muttering under his breath in Spanish. A Mexican immigrant, he had been raised to never speak his native language in America, but it was times like this he forgot. I knew who it was just by the look on my father’s face. Only one person made Papa mad enough to cuss. I looked over at the door to my apartment building and there was Miasha’s daddy standing out front smoking a cigarette. Tyree was obviously waiting for me.
Suspicions Page 3