Destiny Lingers

by Rolonda Watts

  I hear someone entering the suite as quiet as a cat. I hold my breath, carefully straining to hear every move. Whoever it is now fumbles for the light switch. Is it Garrett? Or is it Eve? I hear a soft gasp.

  “Oh my gawd!” It’s a woman’s breathy voice. “Aww … how sweet!” I hear her purr.

  I know it’s her.

  She giggles uncontrollably, and then I hear her inhale deeply, apparently tickled pink by the sweet smell of her red roses. I hear her now moving toward the kitchenette. She pulls open the refrigerator door with a jerk.

  “What? No champagne?” she says in a pouty voice. “Tsk-tsk-tsk. Ba-ad boy,” she scolds an imaginary Garrett.

  The spoiled bitch hasn’t even looked in the bedroom, where her bedside bottle of bubbly is waiting.

  She starts humming a happy little la-de-da-de-da tune as I hear her making her way toward the bedroom, through the opened doors, and then—“Ahhhh!”—she squeals like a surprised little girl on Christmas morning. “Oh my God!” I suppose all of those rose petals glimmering in the soft yellow lamplight and the periwinkle blue lingerie has caught the bitch’s eye.

  “How beautiful,” she purrs. “Oh, oh baby.”

  She is still. I cannot hear her movements anymore. This scares me, because I don’t know where she is or what she might be doing. I pray she isn’t coming toward the closet to hang her coat or something.

  I cautiously move my head out from behind the garment bag, straining my neck out so I can hear clearer. I try peeking through the shuttered door and catch a slight glimpse of her through the slats. I watch intently as Eve gets up from the bed, holding her new lingerie against her body. She is smiling, clearly adoring her lover’s outpouring of gifts. She gently lays the sexy piece on the bed and begins peeling off her clothes—first her short trench coat and then her blouse, loosening the garment from around her perfectly round breasts, button by button, revealing a bright red bra. The seductress appears to be in a mental waltz with herself.

  She is beautiful, and while I hate to reveal my own gross insecurities, I can see why Garrett craves her. Her supple brown skin looks soft and flawless, her muscles lithe and toned. She unhooks her bra and carelessly lets it fall to the floor. She has big dark brown nipples that are standing erect upon her voluptuous breasts. She kicks off her four-inch pumps and unzips her skirt. Her waist is slender. Her hips are shapely and round.

  She carefully slides off her skirt, steps out of it, and then slips out of her red panties, wiggling them down over her hips. It seems she’s anticipating all the imagined sweetness to come. She picks up the teddy and stands there, completely naked. I am surprised that even the tufts of curls between the tops of her long, muscular thighs are as red as those on her head. I have never seen anything like it. She looks like a black-Irish bitch goddess.

  Eve slips on the teddy and admires herself in the mirror. She runs her fingers all over her body, feeling her smooth curves comforted in the coolness of the fine silk. She turns around in front of the mirror, admiring every angle of herself and her brand-new lingerie. Her fingers move down, down to her sacred place. She touches herself in a slow, deep, and sensuous way and then suddenly giggles like a little girl caught sneaking. She licks her fingers as if to erase her own sins. She leaves a naughty smile in the mirror, spins around, and belly flops on top of her lover’s—my husband’s—bed.

  I squeeze my eyes tightly shut in hope of stopping this sordid scene. There is no denying the growing rage inside my gut or the wrenching pain inside my heart. Still, I can’t stop watching. I want to finally witness for myself everything I have needed to know—and probably already did.

  Suddenly, I am startled by the sound of the champagne cork popping. I can’t believe she is pouring herself a glass without Garrett. That selfish bitch.

  I hear her pick up the phone and begin to dial. I wait.

  “Hey, girl! It’s me,” she squeals through the receiver. “I finally made it. And, honey, you are not going to believe what my baby did for me this time.”

  This time? I wonder. How many of these expensive little trysts have these motherfuckers enjoyed? And who the hell is Eve talking to anyway?

  “Uh-uh-huh.” She is beside herself with pleasure. “Girl, he gave me roses, and I mean a bunch of them, all over the bed and everything. My baby got me champagne and chocolates and …” She giggles again as she rolls over on her back and kicks her legs up in the air, like a giddy teenager. “Oh, Maxine!” she squeals.

  Maxine! I am stunned.

  “He gave me the most beautiful little light purple teddy.”

  It’s periwinkle, you stupid slut.

  “And he left me the sweetest little note asking me to have it on when his fine ass walks in here.” She seems thrilled beyond her own belief. “He’s still at work. Uh-huh … Yeah, I’m just going to lie right here and pretend that I am already Mrs. Nelson. Girl, I know he’s already married! I know his wife, remember?”

  Oh, no, she didn’t! I feel Eve’s dagger digging deeper.

  “I know you don’t like what I am doing, Maxine, but I love him. I really do love Garrett.”

  I think I am going to pass out. I cannot believe I am listening to my best friend carrying on with my other friend about my husband and how much she loves him. I want to run out of here like my hair is on fire.

  “Yes, yes, you know I’ll be careful, even though I may just forget my diaphragm tonight. Oh, c’mon, calm down, Maxie, I’m just kidding. Honest. No, no, I said, I’m kidding!” I can see that coy grin on her face as she twirls the telephone cord around her perfectly manicured fingers. “Look, better go, sweetie. My man is on his way, and I want to be wet and ready when he gets here. Love you. Mwah” She blows a kiss through the receiver and hangs up.

  There is dead silence again. I try not to move. I try not to breathe. I try not to jump out of this closet and kill her.

  Then, there is another hushed click at the door. Eve and I both jump.

  “Hellooo.” It’s Garrett. “Honey, I’m ho-ome.”

  I could slit his throat.

  Eve giggles and remains on the bed. I see her pushing herself back through Garrett’s rose petals as she seductively leans up against the mountain of plush pillows.

  “In here, sweetie; come and get it!” she sings, waving her long, brown thighs back and forth.

  I hear Garrett putting his things down in the front room. I hear him taking off his jacket and see his smiling face through the door slat as he enters the bedroom, loosening his tie.

  “Ah, I see you found your champagne,” Garrett croons in a low, deep sexy voice, one I have rarely heard.

  “Yes, I did,” Eve purrs back at him, arching her back.

  “And your lingerie.”

  “Mmm-hmm.” She has a mischievous look on her face as she playfully dips her finger in her champagne and then sticks it in her mouth.

  “Do you like Daddy’s surprises?” Garrett teases as he confidently saunters closer to the bed.

  “Yes, I do, Daddy,” she purrs in a baby voice. “I like them very, very much.”

  Garrett does not take his eyes off her as he impatiently yanks at his tie. “You look good, baby,” he whispers in a gruff voice, with one knee on the bed.

  She moans and giggles.

  “Give me some of that champagne,” Garrett orders.

  She looks at him and flashes another naughty smile. She then wraps her big red lips around the rim of the champagne flute and takes a long, deliberate sip, locked in his gaze. Eve then reaches up and grabs Garrett’s tie, pulling him closer, until their mouths meet. She moans again as he drinks the champagne straight from her mouth.

  “Mmmm,” Garrett hums sensuously. “Now, that’s what I’m talkin’ ’bout.”

  Garrett wraps his burly arms around Eve’s slender waist and holds her tightly against his body. He rubs his big hands all over her ba
ck, her ass, and her thighs as his hunger grows wilder. Eve writhes underneath him, moving her hips around and around in the sensual private dance between lovers.

  “I want you to do that again, baby,” he demands through heavy breaths as he entwines his fat fingers between her long thin ones. He dives in for her neck.

  She rolls over and takes another long sensuous sip of champagne, and he again drinks from her mouth, except this time, instead of swallowing, he roughly grabs her by the top of her thighs and yanks her down on the bed, squirting the bubbly liquid from his mouth all over her body—her pussy, her inner thighs, her ass, her stomach, neck, and breasts. He is completely lost in her and all of their wetness.

  “I love you, baby, I love you,” he mutters as he rubs his wet face into her glistening breasts, cupping them into his hungry mouth between his two big hands. My so-called best friend is giving herself to my so-called husband freely and fiercely.

  “I love you too, Daddy,” she moans.

  Love? What are they talking about? He can’t love her.

  Garrett moves down her body as she spreads her legs. I lose sight of him, but he must be plunging his tongue deep inside her body from the sounds of her guttural moans. He must be melting her down, sucking and drinking her up, going deeper and deeper.

  Just like that dagger in my back. And again, I want to die.

  Knowing my husband is having an affair with another woman is hard enough to swallow. Learning that the other woman is my best friend makes it twice as hard. But to watch my man humping away on the girl with whom I have shared my deepest, darkest, and most personal secrets, some even about my husband, is the most outrageous experience I could have ever imagined. Sadly, it is all too real today.

  I remain in this bedroom closet, peeking through the slats of the door, as my husband and my best friend lick, suck, and touch each other—everywhere. Not one place on either body left untouched or unmoaned about. Even when I close my eyes to shut out the horrific truth playing itself out right there before me, I can still hear Eve’s deep guttural groans of pleasure as my husband thrashes his tongue deeper and deeper inside her holes, folds, and crevices. I am sick from watching, yet I cannot stop.

  Even worse, Garrett and Eve seem to really be into each other. I watch them breathlessly sharing their deepest longings. They roll across the bed, wrapped in tight embrace, expressing whispered words and primal sounds of love. Garrett and I have never made love like that, rolling around, clinging, and spewing all kinds of passionate and dirty words. I am devastated.

  My husband seems wilder, freer, and far more satisfied with his redheaded lover than it seems he has ever been with me. He talks dirty to her, and she likes it, responding with even more animalistic heat. He turns her over and smiles, smacking her ass, and then squeezing her buns with a lusty grin. He kneads them like dough between his fat fingers. She delights in every second. He plunges his hungry fingers inside her. She squeals with surprise and excitement.

  In all that they are doing to each other, do they have any idea what they are doing to me?

  Eve lets out another high-pitched squeal as Garrett flips her over and pulls her underneath him by her tight ass. She is giggling and moaning and arching her back in what is sure to be only seconds before she gives herself to him completely. Her cocoa legs jet out on either side of Garrett’s big body in playful kicks. He climbs up closer to the head of the bed with Eve holding on underneath him like some kind of primate offspring.

  They collapse, grabbing each other by the head and hair, locking lips in a hungry and desperate embrace. Garrett reaches down and fumbles with himself between his big thighs. He lifts his hips to better position himself.

  “Ready for this, baby? You ready for some good dick?” Garrett taunts.

  “Aw, yeah,” Eve purrs. “Yeah, I’m ready.

  And then with one fell swoop, Garrett plunges his long, thick love stick into my best friend’s throbbing, glistening love snatch. She throws her head back and lets loose in a low, deep, and guttural groan.

  “Oh my ghaaaaa-aaaad!”

  Garrett is pumping himself inside of her like a wild dog.

  “Open those legs, wider. Open up them damn legs!” he orders his love slave.

  “Yes, Daddy, here it is—yes, yes—take it, Daddy, take it all. I got whatchu need, baby. Take it … mmmm-mmmm-mmm,” she pants.

  Garrett pounds her body, up and down, up and down, and then swivels his hips around and around, digging deeper and deeper. She is holding the back of his neck and riding my husband like an upside-down jockey. They both have a look of excruciating pleasure on their faces, which on any other day could be easily confused with looks of excruciating pain.

  “Oh, baby, lift your leg,” Garrett gruffly orders as he keeps pumping Eve’s pussy. Without missing a beat, he gets up on his knees. He slaps Eve’s ass. She squirms but still begs for more. He slaps her ass again.

  Suddenly, Eve screams at the top of her voice. Her eyes roll to the back of her head. She claws the wet sheets, her head thrashing back and forth, from side to side. “Aaaaaaa—aaahh-ahh-ahh—aaaahhahhah!” She looks possessed.

  “C’mon, baby. Yeah, gimme that good cum. I got you, I got you. Cum for Daddy now,” Garrett coos as Eve jerks around in epileptic movements, as if she’s been zapped by a bolt of electricity.

  Eve’s orgasm turns my husband on even more, as he picks up the pace of his pumping. He is going for the gold.

  “Okay, baby, okay … here it comes … awwwwww … here it comes … oh … yeah … yeah … yeah …” He pumps and pumps. Garrett’s dropping beads of sweat. “Gimme that wet pussy, baby, give it to me—shiiiit!”

  “Take it, baby. Take. My. Pussy.”

  “Give it to me! Yeah … yeah … aye-aah aaaaaaaaaaaahhhh-ahh-ahh—

  aaaahhahhah!”

  Eve swoops down and wiggles both of my husband’s balls into her mouth and sucks them wildly as he cums. Garrett goes ballistic, screaming, groaning, crying, and wailing at the top of his lungs. Eve’s head and tongue circle around and around.

  Garrett can’t take anymore of the pleasure he devised and grabs his lover’s head.

  “Okay, baby, okay, tha’s enough. Damn!”

  “I just want my baby happy.” Eve pants as she hugs Garrett tighter, kissing him with an open mouth.

  “Oh, I’m happy, baby. Shit.” Garrett smiles, overheated, sweating profusely, and out of breath.

  “Don’t have a heart attack, now,” Eve teases as Garrett rocks her in his arms.

  They lie there, tangled into one amid the sheets soaked with champagne and their love juices. He plays with the curls of hair just above her right eyebrow. She inhales deeply and buries face in his hairy chest. She then looks up at him and smiles the smile of a woman in love. She lightly kisses my husband’s nipples and then fingers his brown tufts of chest hair with her long red nails.

  “I enjoyed that, Daddy,” she purrs with eyes half closed. “You are so wonderful.”

  “Ah, baby,” he sighs as he pulls her in closer to him, kissing the top of her red head. “I am always happy to please you.”

  They lie there still for another moment, apparently soaking up the afterglow of their illicit lovemaking.

  “How about some more champagne,” Garrett offers as he untangles himself and reaches for one of the fancy-bottomed flutes.

  “I’ll watch you drink it,” Eve flirts.

  Garrett pours the champagne to the top of the glass, in what Mother would refer to as a “vulgar portion.” For the first time ever, that description makes perfect sense.

  Garrett suddenly glances at his watch and then sighs.

  “I better call home,” he says as he sits on the side of the bed next to the phone. He hangs his head a minute, perhaps trying to compose himself and clear his voice, his mind, and his dick, and then figure out what the hell he’s going to say to me.r />
  Heavily, he picks up the telephone and begins to dial. He looks so overburdened and unhappy. Nothing like the cast-all-cares-to-the-wind guy who was humping my best friend only moments ago. I guess there is truth to the thought that men have affairs, not only for the sex but more often for the way the other woman makes them feel. Eve clearly makes my husband feel happy, confident, and alive.

  “She’s not there—machine,” Garrett whispers to Eve. “Hey, honey, it’s me,” he speaks into our answering machine. “Had a really rough one today.” He tries to sound tired. “Worked late. Headed to bed—exhausted. I’ll try to catch you tomorrow. Love ya.” Garrett hangs up the phone. He sits there a minute, head hung.

  “What’s wrong, baby?” Eve moves in closer to Garrett, rubbing his back as she sweetly leans her cheek against his big shoulder. “Everything okay?”

  “Yeah.” Garrett sighs as he rolls over on top of her. “I just thought she’d be home. It’s late.”

  “Well, you know the girls were going over to your house for dinner tonight.”

  “That’s why I was sure she’d be there.” Ironically, Garrett acts as if he’s worried and concerned about me.

  “Well, you know those gals,” Eve adds. “Maybe they’re having too much fun—too drunk—to answer the phone. They probably went out.”

  “Went out?” Garrett sits up and looks at her.

  Eve chuckles. “You don’t know your wife very well, do you?”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Well, let’s just say no moss grows under that girl’s feet. I am sure she’s glad that you’re in Boston. So relax, honey.”

  I am about to jump out of this closet and beat that black bitch down. Not only is she fucking my husband, she’s bad-mouthing me too?

  “Yeah, trust me, honey—she’s having her fun while we’re having ours.” Eve leans in toward Garrett. She smiles coyly as if she knows some dirty little secret.

  “What? She’s not having an affair, is she?” My cheatin’-ass husband actually has the nerve to ask that stupid-ass question and look like he’s upset.