Suspicions

by Sasha Campbell

  I chuckled. “I’m already seeing it. One of my boys is talking about doing pedicures in his barbershop. With all those female clients . . . he said that would be reason enough for brothas to start flocking to his shop.”

  “See! What I tell you?” She screamed and started laughing again; then she got all serious and stared me dead in the eye. “So tell me what it is you like about me.”

  “What’s there not to like? You’re sexy as hell. Smart with a good head on your shoulders. I like a woman with enough class to have on my arm, who can also shoot pool and slug down a couple bottles of beer. A brotha would be a fool not to want to push up on you.” Take tonight, for instance, Candace was wearing a pair of tight jeans and a gold blouse with matching stiletto heels. She didn’t look like the hoochies at the table next to us. One had her ass cheeks hanging out her shorts and the other one needed a bra on because her breasts were practically sagging down to her waist. “Now that you with me, all them other brothas can hang that up.”

  “Why is that?” she asked with a hint of amusement in her voice. I loved the way her beautiful eyes crinkled.

  “Because I like what I got too much to want to share with anyone else.” I leaned in close. “That’s unless you got a problem with it.”

  She stared at me and grinned. “No . . . I kinda like the sound of it.”

  I lowered my head and kissed her. It wasn’t a quick peck either. I lingered long enough to taste beer on her tongue and make her moan. Damn, I was horny! Our relationship wasn’t about sex, because as of yet, I still hadn’t gotten none. However, I’d be lying if I didn’t say I couldn’t wait to get between her thighs. The suspense was killing a brotha.

  I ordered another round of drinks and we laughed and talked some more. I leaned back in my chair, enjoying her company and sexy smile. We were debating who was going to win the NBA Finals when my cell phone chirped, indicating I had a message. I pulled it out my pocket and glanced down at the text message on my screen.

  She ain’t even cute.

  It was Tameka. I sat up on my seat and glanced to my left and right, looking to see if that crazy-ass chick was somewhere in the restaurant. If she was, I couldn’t find her.

  Candace gave me a weird look. “Is everything okay?”

  “Yeah.” I took one last sweep of the room, then reached for my drink. I don’t even know why I was worried about Tameka, not when I had this fine woman sitting across from me. Yet, I had enough history with Tameka to know there was no telling what that chick was capable of doing. “Candy? I wanna know if you’d go with me to my family reunion at the end of the month?” I don’t even know why I was going to spend time with my father and his family, except to say I was curious.

  “You’re asking me to meet your family?” I nodded. “Sure, I would love to.” I could see the look of surprise on her face that I was ready to introduce her to my relatives. “Being around family is a good way to find out about someone,” she said.

  “Well, to be totally honest with you . . . I don’t know much about my father. He hasn’t been in my life since I was six years old.” I sighed. “It’s a long story, but the gist of it is, he messed around on my mom with another woman and the two of them ended up getting a divorce.”

  “Are you saying he stopped being a father to you?”

  Reaching for my beer, I nodded and couldn’t believe it, but I started getting angry all over again. I don’t even know why I brought him up and was allowing that man to spoil a perfect evening. “I never heard from him again until my eighth-grade graduation. He had married the other woman and they had my sister, Linda.”

  Candace gave me a curious look. “Now, if your father wasn’t in your life, how did you know you had a sister?”

  “She started writing me while I was—” I stopped when I suddenly remembered I still hadn’t told her anything about being incarcerated. Damn. My cell phone rang and I was so glad for the interruption, I didn’t even bother to check the caller ID first. “Hello?”

  “You might wanna order the key lime pie. It’s to die for,” Tameka purred on the other end. I looked over my shoulder. She had to be somewhere in the restaurant, watching me.

  “Whassup?” I replied, and tried to act like I was talking to one of my boys while I glanced around so Candace wouldn’t become suspicious.

  “What’s going on is that you’ve taken someone else to our favorite restaurant and my feelings are hurt,” she replied with a pout.

  “Yo, shit happens.”

  There was a long pause. “You’re so right. Shit does happen, so I advise you to watch your back.” With that, the phone went dead. I felt a chill at the back of my neck and looked over my shoulder again.

  “Is something wrong?” Candace asked. The frown on her face said she was smart enough to know something wasn’t right.

  I gave a nervous laugh. I didn’t know what was worse, Candace asking about my past or Tameka stalking me. “Everything’s fine. I just feel like someone is watching me.”

  “It’s probably that woman sitting over near the bar. She’s been staring you down since we got here.” She tilted her head in the direction of the pool tables.

  I swung to my left, and there sitting on a stool at the end of the bar was Tameka. As soon as she saw me staring, she raised her glass in my direction. That psycho was determined to make my life hell.

  “Do you know her?” Candace asked.

  I picked up my beer, draining half the bottle with one gulp before answering, “She’s someone I used to know. Now . . . the only female I’m worried about is you.” I leaned across the table and brought my lips down on hers. I was making sure it was clear to Tameka that what she and I had was over.

  “Excuse me.”

  Startled, I looked up to find Tameka standing in front of our table, grinning like a damn fool. She was definitely up to something. “Whassup, Tameka,” I replied, trying to sound like it was no big deal.

  “Chauncey? I thought that was you! How you doing?” she added with theatrical effect. “I just had to come over and say hello to you and your . . . uhhhh . . .”

  “This is Candace,” I replied, hoping she would just get the hell away.

  Tameka tossed her a fake smile. “Candace, huh? Well, it’s nice to meet you. Chauncey and I go way way back. In fact, we used to date. So I’ll warn you, he doesn’t stay in relationships long because he’s afraid of commitment.”

  “Really? Well, Tameka, I’m here to tell you . . . that may have been the way things were when the two of you were together, but my man has eyes for just me. Isn’t that right, baby?” Candace cooed. I looked over at her in time to see her wink. She knew Tameka was a shit starter. I could have jumped across that table and kissed her.

  “Absolutely, boo. Now, if you would excuse us, Tameka, me and my girl would like to get back to our meal.”

  She looked humiliated for a second before she cut her eyes at me. “You can have him. It ain’t like he eats pussy.”

  “Really? That’s funny because Chauncey can’t seem to get enough of mine.” She held up her bottle. “Cheers.” Candace tapped her beer against mine, dismissing her.

  If looks could kill, Candace and I would have blown up in smoke. “Whatever,” Tameka mumbled under breath, then started toward the door and practically tripped on the heel of her shoe.

  Candace and I both took one look at each other and tried to hold it together until she exited the restaurant.

  “Sorry, I couldn’t help myself,” she laughed. “That chick rubbed me the wrong way.”

  I was laughing my ass off. It felt so good. “No, believe me. I appreciated your help. I’ve been trying to get rid of that chick for months.”

  “You must have been doing something right; otherwise, she wouldn’t be acting like that.” Candace leaned forward, revealing all that luscious cleavage spilling from the top of her blouse. “What could that be?”

  “I’ll let you in on a little secret . . . I’ve never had any complaints.”

  “H
mmm . . . apparently not.” Candace gave me a long, thoughtful look like she was finally thinking about giving a brotha some. Maybe Tameka’s popping up just might turn out to be a good thing. “The look on Tameka’s face, I doubt she’ll be bothering you again.”

  “One can only hope.”

  This moment would go down in the history book as priceless. Hopefully, Tameka had finally gotten the hint, I had moved on and it was over between us. However, I lived long enough to know that nothing is ever that easy.

  16

  Tiffany

  “You wanna suck my clit?”

  I flinched. “What?”

  Mrs. King gave me a concerned look. “I asked if you wanted some more fish.”

  I forced a smile and shook my head. “No, thank you.”

  I think I’m starting to lose my mind. Ever since I slept with Kimbel I have felt dirty. It’s bad enough I went by Mama’s and she immediately sensed that something was different about me. According to her, she could smell the scent of sex on my breath. As soon as I saw her reach for the fly swatter, I ran out her house and haven’t been back since. Kimbel, on the other hand, has enjoyed every moment of it. It’s been a week and we’ve been making love almost every night since. I’m not going to lie. It hurt the first few times; but now, I just couldn’t seem to get enough of him. So how come each time I’m left feeling like a sinner? We’re having dinner at his parents’ house and even now Kimbel was staring across the table at me, making me moist between my legs and feeling so dirty.

  “Kimbel, your father has an announcement to make,” Mrs. King said, breaking into my guilty thoughts.

  Kimbel looked from one to the other. His parents were obviously happy about something. “What is it, Pop?”

  Mr. King used to be fine in his younger days. Even now he had a distinguished look that appealed even to a chick my age. He had wavy salt and pepper hair, a goatee, and light skin that was glowing right about now. “Next month, I will be opening another funeral home.” His chest stuck out with pride. Kimbel walked around to shake his hand, and I softly clapped mine and congratulated him.

  King Funeral Homes was the largest black-owned memorial service in the city. The family-owned business currently had five locations and would now be opening a sixth. Mr. King’s dream was that someday all three of his sons would join the funeral business. So far the oldest, Charles, managed two of the locations. Carlton was the youngest and was still away at college, but he had every intention of joining the family business. Kimbel was another story altogether.

  Kimbel had gone to Northwestern and later to the NFL. Mr. King had hoped after his injury he would have returned home and joined the business. Instead, Kimbel had gotten a job as a recruiter. He knew his father was disappointed, which was why he worked most of his weekends at the funeral homes.

  “That’s wonderful!” I cried.

  Mrs. King’s eyes glistened with happy tears. “We are so excited. All we ever wanted was to provide for our sons and their families.”

  I smiled. Unlike most mothers-in-law, I loved mine. She was the mother I wished I had.

  Mr. King rose. “This calls for a celebration.” He left the dining room, then came back shortly, carrying a bottle of thirty-year-old wine. “I’ve been saving this for the right moment.” Glasses were handed out and the bottle passed around. And we all raised our glasses. “Here’s to another successful business venture and to young love. In two weeks, I will be getting not only another funeral home but a beautiful daughter as well.”

  I had tears in my eyes because they were all so good to me. I had a wonderful life ahead of me.

  For the next couple of hours we sat and laughed and talked and started on a second bottle. I had never been much of a wine drinker, so I was beyond tipsy. When Mrs. King decided to pull out the baby pictures, I excused myself and went to the half bath down the hall.

  “Ahhhhhh . . . that feels good.” Nothing felt better than going to the bathroom after holding it way too long. I looked down inside the stool and, just as I thought, my period had started. Luckily, I had thought to carry a tampon in my pocket. I flushed, washed my hands, and stared at my reflection. I didn’t like at all what I saw. I looked sad. Almost disappointed at myself. I guess it was because after all those years of my mother instilling values in me, I had thrown it all away. I was so tired of feeling guilty. Two more weeks, I told myself. Two more weeks and I would officially be Mrs. Kimbel King.

  There was a knock at the door. I opened it and Kimbel stepped in. “Hey, baby. What took you so long? I was missing you.” He wrapped his arms around me and leaned me back against the sink. When he pressed his lips to mine I opened my mouth and allowed his tongue entrance. “I’m ready to go home so I can make love to you.”

  Oh, how I wished that was possible. I pulled him closer, loving the way my man felt. Kimbel was everything a woman needed. He was a gentleman, charming, and in the time we’d been together, he had proved he was committed to me.

  “Baby, I can’t wait. I gotta have you now,” he murmured.

  “What! We can’t. Your parents are down the hall. They will know.”

  “No, they won’t.” He unzipped his pants and whipped his dick out. “Come on, baby. Take your pants off.”

  “I can’t. I’m on the rag.”

  He jumped back. Kimbel hated touching me when I was on my period. Said it made him feel dirty. Whenever it was my time of the month, he insisted that I wear a pair of shorts to bed. Just in case I had an accident, he didn’t want it on his clothes or our sheets.

  Kimbel was devastated by my news. “Dammit, now I gotta go back out there with a hard-on. Baby, you know this is all your fault, right? You shouldna been looking so good,” he replied, trying to make light of the situation, but I could tell by his eyes he was disappointed. I gave him a sympathetic smile and felt sorry for him. He was holding his penis in his hands. Kimbel was right. He was so hard the veins were popping out around the head. “I don’t think I’m going to be able to get this back in my pants.” He looked worried, almost frightened. “Baby, please, you gotta . . .”

  Hell no! I knew what he was asking. There was no way I could think about doing such a thing, yet he looked so miserable, and after all, it was partly my fault that my man found me irresistible.

  “Tiffany, sweetheart, please. In two weeks you’re going to be my wife, but I’ve gotta be honest . . . if you’re not willing to please your husband in every way that he asks, then we’re going to have problems. What happened to love, honor, and obey? I love eating you out, but my wife has to be willing do the same.”

  I couldn’t believe we were having this discussion at his parents’ house. “Well . . . when I become your wife, we can talk about it then.”

  “I think you’re full of shit. I truly don’t believe you’re ever going to be willing to satisfy me properly. I’m so sure that . . . look . . . my dick got soft. Fuck!” He fixed his pants, then gave me a look that was like a cloud had gone up around him. I had never seen him like that and I didn’t want to start now. His parents would know something was wrong between us and I wasn’t having that. I needed my world to be perfect. Already, I had gone against everything I believed in and gave him my virginity before our wedding. What difference did it make now? I might as well give my fiancé what he wanted in order to keep him happy and to keep him from suddenly having second thoughts about marrying me. My mother would beat the black off me if he did.

  I was still contemplating what to do next when Kimbel reached for the door and turned the knob. “Wait! Okay . . . okay . . . I’ll do it.” I took a seat on the stool and urged him to come and stand in front of me. Smiling, he reached for the switch and turned on the exhaust fan, which was loud enough to muffle any noise coming from the room. I sure hoped so. The last thing I needed was for his parents to think their son was marrying a slut. I waited nervously while Kimbel unzipped his pants again. The second it sprung free, I noticed he was hard again. Staring down at it, I licked my lips.

 
“Come on, baby, you can do it. Just wrap your lips around it,” Kimbel urged, and placed his hand at the back of my head and pushed me forward. I parted my lips and he guided the tip inside my mouth. “Awww, baby. That’s it,” he groaned.

  I tried to pretend I was sucking on a Popsicle while he rocked his hips and pushed deeper and deeper down my throat. I gagged a few times, then controlled how deep I wanted him to go. Kimbel started moving faster and after a while I started to feel a little more confident about what I was doing. Just knowing it was my lips that were making him grunt and groan gave me a feeling of empowerment. It wasn’t long before Kimbel was pumping hard enough to make my jaw hurt.

  “That’s it, baby. Oh, that feels sooooooo good. Ooooh!” he howled. Then the next thing I knew, Kimbel exploded in my mouth. I held my breath and waited until he stopped moving. There was no way I was swallowing. As soon as he pulled out, I moved over to the sink, spit, and rinsed out my mouth. That was one thing I would never acquire a taste for.

  “Com’ere.” I turned around and Kimbel pressed his lips to mine. “Thank you. I now know there isn’t anything you won’t do for your man, and that means a lot to me.” Kimbel gave me a long, passionate kiss. “I love you, Tiffany. I can’t wait to walk down the aisle and make you my wife.”

  His words were exactly what I needed to hear, and for the first time all week I didn’t feel dirty. I choked on a sob. “Thank you, baby. I needed to hear that.”

  Kimbel cupped my face with his hands and looked down at me with a stern look as he spoke. “I don’t care what your mother says about premarital sex, there’s nothing wrong with a woman pleasing the man she’s planning to marry.”