by Zane
“So he was married,” I said to myself. “I wonder what happened to her.”
I put the pictures back in the bag and placed them inside the drawer instead of taping them back underneath. I wondered why he would have them hidden like that. I decided to explore further and opened the second drawer. There was a knitted baby blanket on top, and underneath there was a silver spoon. I wondered if they also had a child. It is amazing what items can tell you about people who have passed on. Then I saw it: a death certificate. It stated that Abigail Lewis, age twenty-five, had died during childbirth along with her infant son.
A sadness came over me that I had never experienced. This man, the man who had resided in the place where I now stood, had gone through so much pain. He had lost his only true love at such a young age, and he had lost his child. Suddenly I didn’t feel so bad about my own situation. Fifteen years was a long time, but maybe Jesse and I still had a chance. Maybe the parole board would feel some sympathy and cut down on the sentence. Anything was possible as long as we were both still breathing. The people whose lives I had just explored had no more chances. Their time on this earth was over.
Jesse stirred in the bed, and I went to him. I lay on top of him and showered him with kisses. He woke up and kissed me back until our tongues were entwined. We started our lovemaking all over again, and we made love until the sun came up.
“Jesse,” I whispered in his ear. “I think it’s time.”
Jesse clung to me and began to weep. He had been so strong the entire time, and now he was breaking down. “No, it’s not time. This can’t happen.”
“Jesse, we agreed that today would be the day. We can’t prolong it. Things will only get worse. Right now, we’re looking at fifteen years. If we don’t do something now, we could be looking at a lifetime.”
“I need you just once more,” he proclaimed suddenly through tear-drenched eyes.
I couldn’t help but succumb to his wishes. How could I deny the man I loved anything? I caressed his dick and worked it up and down in my hand. He lapped at my breasts and clung onto my waist for dear life. I climbed on top of him and quickly placed him inside me. I prayed that the moment would never end.
“I love you so much, Susan.”
“I love you, too.”
“God, I’m going to miss this.”
Jesse pulled me down on him tighter, and I worked my pussy back and forth on his dick as hard as I could until we both achieved one last orgasm.
Jesse let me go and got up to get dressed. I slipped my clothes back on and went out on the porch. A moment later I felt his arms massaging my shoulders. “You want me to drive you into town, Susan?”
I placed my hand on top of his. “That would be nice.”
We drove in silence, and I looked at the sky the entire time. It was so beautiful. The air hitting my cheeks through the lowered window was a wonderful sensation. Everything I had ever taken for granted seemed significant during that drive.
We pulled up in front of the police station, and Jesse got out to come around and open my door. Before I could even get out of the car good, the sheriff and two of his deputies were on the sidewalk. They must have spotted us through the window.
“Susan Wilson!” the sheriff yelled out at me. “Put your hands over your head and step away from the car!”
I looked into Jesse’s eyes and saw pure sadness. “I’m so sorry, Jesse. I made a mistake.”
“Susan Wilson! You’re under arrest for armed robbery! Now place your hands over your head! I’m not going to tell you again!”
“Sheriff, I’m here to turn myself in!” I informed them. “Just give me a chance to say good-bye!”
Jesse grabbed me around the waist and kissed me. Our one last kiss.
The sheriff and one of the deputies grabbed me from him, pulled my hands behind my back, and slapped on handcuffs. They wasted no time in dragging me across the pavement toward the door.
“Remember I love you always,” was the last thing I heard Jesse say before they slammed the door in his face.
June 2002
My cell was like a dungeon. The years had blended together, and time lost all meaning. Fifteen years turned into seventeen because of an escape attempt. I couldn’t live without Jesse, and I needed to see him. I needed to be with him. The other two inmates who tried to escape with me were shot and killed right outside town. Dogs tracked me down, and I surrendered. Being ripped apart by sharp teeth was not the way I wanted to die.
Jesse visited me every single weekend at first. Then, after his Christmas visit in 1997, I had never seen him again. No letters came. His phone number was disconnected. My heart was broken. I figured that he came to the realization that loving a woman behind bars was not really loving one at all. He was right. I had no business trying to prevent him from leading a normal life because of my own mistakes. He deserved to be happy—to have someone to wake up to every morning and fall asleep with every night.
When the gates opened, I hesitated to even step outside them. I had no place to go and no one to see. People didn’t believe in hiring ex-convicts, and finding a decent job was going to be downright impossible. I stepped out onto the street and looked both ways, having no clue which way was best to walk.
“Susan Wilson?”
I turned to face a young girl of about fifteen. I had no idea who she was—I couldn’t have, because I had been locked up longer than she had been alive.
“Who are you?” I asked. “How did you know my name?”
“I’ve seen your picture.”
“My picture?”
“Yes. Of course, you look a bit older now.”
I was frozen in place. I had no idea what to think.
“Let me explain,” she continued. “My stepdaddy was Jesse Spencer, and he asked me to give you something when you got out of prison.”
“Your stepdaddy?”
“Yes. I’ve been calling on and off to see when you might be getting out. Funny thing is, I called yesterday, and they said you’d be getting out today, so I came here and waited.”
“Where is Jesse?” I demanded to know. “Does he want me to come to him?”
The young girl lowered her eyes and handed me an envelope.
“I have to go now, Miss Susan. Nice meeting you.”
Before I could respond, she jumped into some new kind of fancy car with a teenage boy and pulled off.
I spotted a bus bench across the street and decided to sit there to open the envelope. Inside was a letter that looked rather old. I unfolded it and read it aloud to myself.
Dear Susan,
I know you are surprised to be getting this. I asked Bianca to deliver it to you as soon as you get out. I have no idea how old she’ll be by then, but I bet she’ll sure be beautiful. Susan, I never knew how to tell you that I had married someone else. Her name’s Allison. She’s a nice woman, but she’s not you and never will be. For three years after I married her, I continued to visit you in the jail, but the deception finally got to me. It was unfair to both of you for my visits to continue. Allison deserved respect, and you deserved to be set free. Free from the disappointment of not being able to be intimate together.
I’m dying, Susan. The doctor says cancer will take me any day now, and I can feel my insides being ripped apart. I felt like I needed to write you this letter so you would know that I never once forgot your touch. I never once forgot the way you kissed me or moaned when we were making love. I have never forgotten you. I don’t know what will happen to you or where you’ll go when you get out, but I want you to know that I wish things could’ve been different. I never expressed it, but I was angry with you for what you did. Money was tight, but that was no reason to try to take it illegally. We could’ve had so much, Susan. If we had worked hard and had faith, we could’ve had everything. Instead we ended up with nothing.
I have to go now, Susan. Just remember one thing. Remember I love you always!
Jesse
The tears flooded down my cheeks
as I concluded the letter. A bus had just turned the corner, and while I had no idea where it was headed, I planned to be on it. The little bit of money I had earned doing prison work would help some, but I would have to find a way to make more. I would not fail this time. I would make something out of myself for Jesse.
The bus stopped and before I got on, I looked up at the sky. “Are you up there, Jesse? Remember I love you always, too.”
Wilder
* * *
A Night at the Movies
* * *
Sistahs are always complaining about not being able to find a decent man, and I was no exception. It was a terribly humid August night, and yes, I had a man, but he was ghost, as usual. JayQuan had been canceling date after date for about a month, and I was beginning to grow a bit suspicious. Scratch that! I was extremely suspicious. I’m not saying he was a man-whore like the guys from Deuce Bigalow when I met him, but he was surely knocking on whoredom’s door. That is, until I gave him a good puddy-whipping and tamed him down a notch or two. Just like every lifelong pooch, he was destined to start chasing yet another fire engine sooner or later.
My sixth sense, Maxine’s Doggie Radar, had begun to pick up the FR signal. The initials stand for Flight Risk, and you know you’re confronted with it when five phone calls a day telling you how much he adores the ground you walk on drop down to one obligatory call, aka booty call, every three or four days. He starts bringing his funky drawers over to your place for you to wash instead of surprising you with a dozen roses delivered to your office because he thinks he has you wrapped around his little finger. He refuses to answer the phone whenever you’re over his place. Oh, and doesn’t let you make a move for the phone. He’ll pull an Emmitt Smith on your behind, run an NFL play on you, jumping over the back of the couch and knocking you out of the way to get to it first. JayQuan was doing all of the above, and I didn’t like it one bit.
That’s why I decided there was absolutely no way I was missing the new horror movie Hollow Man. I’d been waiting for that bad boy to come out for more than a year, hearing tell of all the special effects and watching the HBO documentary about how it was made. I was determined to see it the day it came out in the local theaters no matter what. When JayQuan called with yet another excuse why he couldn’t keep our date, I told him to go on about his business and I’d catch him the next day. Frankly, I was thinking it was about time to take his Doberman pinscher behind to the kennel and have him put to sleep. It was time for me to move on, because I had no intention of sitting around waiting for him to dump me. I don’t participate in that game—if I can’t win, I don’t want to play.
I called around to see who was home. I was even more pissed off when I discovered most of my girlfriends had dates that night to go see, what else:Hollow Man. A couple of them offered to let me tag along, but being a third wheel was never my thing. I didn’t appreciate cock-blockers and didn’t have any inclination to become one, not even for a few hours. I grabbed the weekend section out of my Washington Post right quick and checked out the show times. There was a show starting in less than thirty minutes a few miles from my apartment. I threw on a spaghetti-strap indigo dress, slid my feet into a pair of black sandals, and ran out the door, taking the three flights of stairs down to the parking lot two at a time.
I got into my car and started warming it up. I call my 1984 Nissan Stanza Tank because it uses a tank of gas to get me to and from work every day. Eventually, I’ll get a new ride, but right now making rent is top priority, and my roommate, Angie, ran off with some Rastafarian from the Bronx who told her she reminded him of an ancient Egyptian queen. Now she goes by the name of Empress Heaven d’Honey and works in a reggae club as a topless dancer. Yeah, she’s some queen all right.
Tank finally got warmed up, and I took off, jumping the curb to get out into the Friday work traffic before the light changed and fifty-eleven cars came plummeting toward me. I got to the theater in record time, in less than ten minutes, but my face immediately frowned up when I saw the line for tickets. There had to be at least thirty-five people in line, and only one ticket window open. How trifling can you get!
I noticed a brother close to the front of the line who appeared to be alone. He was easy to spot because he was tall, chocolaty, and looked like the word D-I-C-K spelled out. He had on a pair of neatly ironed jeans and a white oxford shirt. I tend to notice fine men, but when I am horny, I notice them even more. I took a quick survey of the people standing to the side and couldn’t picture him belonging to any of them, so I decided to be my usual bold self and make a daring move.
I walked right up to him, cut in the line, and intertwined my arm through his. “Hey baby, sorry I’m late,” I said seductively and loud enough for everyone to hear.
He stared down at me. Damn, damn, damn! His eyes were a charcoal gray and more mesmerizing than D’Angelo’s chest in his Untitled music video. He grinned at me, flashing this cinematic smile that made me wonder why people weren’t lined up to see him on the silver screen.
“It’s no problem,” he replied in a voice deep enough to make me give up the panties right then and there.
There is something about a man with a deep voice that makes my kitty-kat purr like the four-legged ones in those Meow Mix cat food commercials. On top of that, he had on some CK cologne, my favorite on a man.
Before I knew it, we were at the front of the line, and the young girl behind the window wanted to know what movie we were going to see. I immediately blurted out, “Hollow Man.”
Sexy cleared his throat. “Yes, can I have two for Hollow Man?” I tried to hand him the ten-dollar bill I had crumpled in my free hand, but he refused it. “It’s okay. I’ve got this one, sweetheart. You can pay next time.”
He paid for both tickets and handed me one. I blushed, wondering if there really would be a next time, completely forgetting about JayQuan’s shady behind.
Once we got inside the theater, I halfway came to my senses. I tried to get him to take the money once again. “Look, I really appreciate you letting me jump the line, but I don’t want to impose. Just keep the entire ten and enjoy the movie.”
I started to walk away, getting in the line for the concession stand. I didn’t want to be late for the movie, but I knew that particular theater showed about ten minutes of previews. I couldn’t sit through any movie without popcorn and a little sumptin’ sumptin’ to wash it down with. I was digging through my purse for another bill when I felt someone breathing down the nape of my neck. I recognized the cologne and started blushing all over again.
I didn’t turn around when he whispered in my ear, “Now, that’s not fair. Ditching me before we even get inside and find a seat.” He pressed the bill back into my hand. “Please don’t insult me again by trying to force this on me.”
I giggled but kept my eyes straight ahead. I was afraid to look at him for fear of tonguing him down right there in the lobby. “Are you asking me to be your date?”
He ran the fingertips of his left hand over my bare shoulder, and it felt fantastic. Just that little touch worked wonders. “Only if you’re not planning to embarrass me by saying no.”
He came closer, and his dick rubbed up against my ass. I’m not sure if it was intentional or whether he was pressed into closer quarters because of the increasingly longer line behind us. The woman in front of us, with five kids all anxious and hyped up about seeing the new Eddie Murphy movie on one of the other screens, was taking forever to order kiddie meals and boxes of candy. I was growing a bit impatient with her, but Sexy’s dick stimulating my rear end didn’t hurt matters any. It wasn’t rock hard, but even in a semi-erect state, it showed a world of promise.
I moved back on it and started gyrating my hips a little. Okay, okay, I was acting like a chickenhead, a slut, a hoochie, but damn, it felt good.
“Sure you can be my date,” I answered, turning my neck so I could see him. He gave me that helluva grin again. “By the way, I’m Maxine,” I announced.
Fo
r five seconds, I had debated about using a fake name but opted against it in case something real came out of what I was about to do. You see, at that point I had already made up my mind that I was going to fuck the brother before I climbed back into Tank that night. Either that, or take him home with me and ride him all night long.
“I’m Orlando.” He put his hands around my waist, and we started swaying back and forth, looking like long-term lovers having trouble keeping their hands off each other. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Maxine.”
“The pleasure’s all mine,” I replied as the woman in front of us finally went on her way. The kids all looked happy but she looked stressed the hell out, the same way my sister looks whenever she takes my twin nephews on an outing.
I ordered my popcorn and Coke and insisted on paying for Orlando’s Sprite and box of Red Hots since he sprung for my ticket. We gave the usher our tickets and located theater nine. It was packed, leaving us with two options: the front row or the two seats in the back set off by themselves and reserved for the handicapped. It was pitch-black back there, and the only reason we could even make out the seats was because people were still entering. There was no hesitation in my mind that we should sit in the back. I had major plans.
The previews were on as we got settled in. Orlando’s long right leg was pressing against my thigh, so I decided to feel it up and see how muscular it was. Just as I suspected, the brother had been hitting somebody’s gym with a vengeance. He decided to return the favor and felt my thigh, making me instantly wet.