Bi-Sensual

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Bi-Sensual Page 4

by Nikki- Michelle


  “I’ve traveled to Atlanta to see you just as many times.”

  “So.” He was aggravated. His voice wavered a bit, and he sighed.

  “So?”

  “Yeah, so what, Mona? You knew what you were getting into when you signed up for it.”

  “So did you!”

  “I’m giving you the best that I’ve got right now. Take it or leave it.”

  I pulled the phone away from my ear and stared at it like tentacles were sprouting from it. “Excuse me?” I snapped.

  “You heard me, Mona. I’m tired. Take it or leave it.”

  I hung up the phone.

  Elliot

  “I want you to meet her,” I said.

  Demi’s face turned upward, like something stank. “What in the hell for?”

  Morning had rolled around. After Mona hung up on me, I had come back inside and got what little sleep I could. Demi had awakened before me. Both of us were up and getting dressed for work when I broached the topic of him meeting Mona.

  He was trying hard to keep a straight face, but the tension in his body couldn’t be hidden. He knew about Mona. There was a reason I had alluded to my relationship with Mona as being secret. Technically, it was. One of the rules in our open relationship was that we always had to tell the other when we were getting ready to act on that open part. So he knew about Mona the moment I decided I wanted a piece of her. The only part he didn’t know for sure, and the only part he didn’t like, was the fact that the thing between her and me had gone past “hit it and quit it.” We weren’t supposed to get attached. Weren’t supposed to have sex with anyone else for an extended period of time. But the sex with Mona was so good, I doubled back around twice. And then again and again . . . and again.

  Samona and I had spoken many times about my relationship with Demi. Over time, I was sure I’d told her a little too much. I’d told her things about Demi that I shouldn’t have. But she was easy to talk to. She always listened and never gave advice unless I asked for it, which I normally didn’t. Not to mention, her sex could make the commander in chief spill secrets.

  I was frustrated during those times, sexually so. Not that Demi and I didn’t have good sex, because we did. But he was being unfair about my sexual needs when it came to the open part of our relationship. Being a bisexual black man already came with many taboos, some I didn’t care to rehash. People saw us together and automatically assumed we were gay. People saw me with a woman and assumed I was straight.

  Of course there were bisexual men who were more attracted to men than to women. Then there were bisexual men who were more attracted to women than to men. Me, I was in the middle. A three on the Kinsey scale. I liked and desired them equally. Demi couldn’t handle that.

  Things had been fine for a long while. It had been good to meet another bisexual man who was into women and men the way I was. I had no desire to be with a gay man, because, in my mind, they wouldn’t understand me. Demi did right off the bat, or so it seemed. It was easy for us. Even though I was being sneaky, I was way too relaxed with him. I kept him—us—well hidden. Cheating on the woman I had home was wrong. It was foul. I’d never make excuses for what I’d done. But, damn, had it felt right at the moment.

  Cheating on the woman I had at home didn’t make me feel like more of a man. It made me feel like less than one at times, actually. Nicole had no idea she was lying next to a man who desired other men. Our relationship hadn’t been perfect, but she was good to me. Good for me. She kept me uplifted during times when I felt like giving up. During those times when I couldn’t land the job I wanted, Nicole was there with a tip on another job or just there to let me know she was with me, no matter what. She would wrap her chocolate legs around me and help me to escape the madness of the world.

  However, there was Demi. I couldn’t wash him off my skin. Couldn’t get him off my mind. Demi came in and gave me balance. I’d always been a man who needed a balance of intimate feminine and male energy. I thought since Nicole and I had our own places, I could get away with my secret rendezvous. Nights on the town turned into him staying the night at my place and vice versa.

  I was being the same dog-ass nigga Nicole had told me her ex was. She’d been with only one man before me. Had met him on one of her summer trips to St. George’s in the Caribbean. Had met him when she was sixteen. They had carried on a relationship until she and I met. When I met her, she told me she was trying to break it off with him. They had been together for seven years when she found out he had been sticking his dick in anything with a pulse. Those had been her words, not mine.

  She was hurting when we met on the Staten Island Ferry. Crying over an empty coffee mug, she looked like she was three seconds from jumping over the railing. But she was too beautiful to resist, so I took my shot, and it paid off. Over a cup of coffee, we started our friendship. I helped her to get over him. Move past him. I promised her that I’d never do to her what he had done. At the time, I had every intention of being the man she needed. I failed.

  One day Nicole stopped by. She did that often, but most times when Demi was over, I made sure Nicole was at work. However, she’d gotten off early that day. I’d lied to her. Told her I was sick. Being the loving woman that she was, she came by to doctor me.

  She walked in to find Demi and me asleep in my bed. He was naked. So was I. I was on my back, sky-blue sheets thrown haphazardly across my waist. Demi was on his stomach, one arm thrown around me. I heard the scream before my eyes opened. I thought I was dreaming at first. It wasn’t until her second scream that I jolted up, like lightning had struck me.

  Used condoms were on the floor. That was why she had screamed the second time. I’d never forget the horrified look on her face. The look that said she was somewhere between death and disbelief. The items she had in her hands fell to the floor. She looked as if she was struggling to breathe. I jumped from the bed; flaccid dick slapped against my thigh. Her eyes went from me to Demi. Seeing Demi caused her face to go through a myriad of expressions.

  I tried to explain. What, I didn’t know. She had all the answers right there in front of her. Nicole gawked at Demi in the bed. He’d turned over. I was sure her screams had jolted him awake too. Nicole did a one-eighty spin and flew down the stairs so fast, she might as well have been called the Flash. Her long braids whipped behind her. She was sobbing loudly, screaming, “Oh, my fucking God. Oh, my God. Oh, my God!”

  If the neighbors were listening, they no doubt were thinking someone was trying to kill her. I grabbed some sweats. Almost fell trying to pull them on. I rushed after her. With no shirt and no shoes, I chased the only woman I’d ever loved. No matter the relationships I’d had before her, there was something about Nicole that no other woman had given me. Her love was pure and still innocent, even after heartbreak.

  By the time I made it downstairs, Nicole had rushed out of my brownstone. She was running down 136th, headed toward Lenox. Neighbors had come out of their homes or had stood up from their stoops to see what was going on. I called her, yelled her name. She kept running. I’d never seen her run that fast.

  “Nicole!” I kept yelling her name.

  My feet ached as I raced down the sidewalk barefoot. All I saw in the distance was the back of her head, her long braids swishing and swaying as she ran like her name was Flo Jo. I couldn’t catch her, not barefoot. The piece of broken glass that cut into the sole of my right foot made sure of that.

  People stared and pointed. But that was New York—Harlem, to be exact. It wasn’t anything they hadn’t seen before. I grunted. Cussed. Cursed God in French. The Haiti in my blood was strong now. I stopped, snatched the glass out of my foot. I ran, limping, back to my crib. Demi was gone. That didn’t bother me. No. I had to get to Nicole. Had to make her hear me. I’d lie if I had to. I’d make up some shit that made no sense. She couldn’t leave me, though. Nicole had to stay.

  Those were my thoughts as I left bloody footprints up the stairs. It wasn’t until I looked at what Nicole had dr
opped on the floor that my world came crashing to a halt. There was food. A container of her grandmother’s famous chicken noodle soup had fallen on the floor and spilled. If Campbell’s really wanted to sell soup, they’d take Nicole’s grandmother’s recipe.

  But damn the soup. Damn that soup. There was a teddy bear with noodles, chunks of chicken, and carrots on it. But it was what I saw the bear holding that gave me pause. It was a bow tied around a white stick. The white stick had two pink lines. I kept staring at those two pink lines.

  I thought back to the one time Nicole and I had unprotected sex in her truck. She’d always had a high sex drive. But since she had grown up extremely religious, it had been repressed. Her preacher father had thought beating her into submission would keep her virginity intact. Nicole wasn’t a virgin by any stretch. She’d been with only one man, but she was well versed and skilled in areas that even I wasn’t.

  She’d taught me some things. I’d taught her some things. Had shown her how to use her mouth to do things to me I was sure her father would curse her to hell for. She’d shown me how she wanted my mouth and tongue to work just the same. She was an eager student, same as I was. I could still hear her light giggle turn to a soft moan when I first placed my lips against her lips. The ones her preacher father had told her were a gateway to hell.

  We were parked in the parking lot of her dad’s church. I helped her decorate the church for a wedding. Nicole had it like that. She could make me do damn near anything she wanted. With a flutter of those long lashes and that seductive smile, she could make me crawl behind her with no shame to my manhood.

  It was storming outside. Rain made Nicole horny. Got her going. She rushed around the church, barking out orders to the other helpers. She was frustrated. But when she needed me to do something, she spoke gently. Behind her smile, I saw the wanton seductress looking at me. The harder the rain fell, the more flushed she became. Once everyone had left and we had locked the doors to the church, I held the umbrella over her head as we walked to her truck. She gave me her keys. Said she was too worked up to drive.

  I opened the passenger-side door for her. She got in. Her eyes were on me once I made sure she was secured by her seat belt. I was a gentleman through and through. My father had raised me to be one.

  “What?” I asked her.

  “Fuck me,” was her answer.

  I chuckled, one brow quirked. “Right here in the parking lot of your father’s church, huh?” I joked, thinking she was joking too.

  When she didn’t laugh and only gave me a slow cat-eyed blink, my dick stirred behind the zipper of my slacks. I needed to make it clear again for Nicole that I’d do anything. So having sex in the parking lot of a church didn’t bother me at all. I unbuckled her seat belt. Never mind the fact she had just come back from Brazil the week before. So I’d missed her badly.

  I looked around to make sure no one was looking as we climbed into the backseat of her truck. She lay back, her loose skirt bunching up around her chunky brown thighs. She grabbed at me. Pulled me down between her thighs as she kissed me like a madwoman.

  I kissed her back like I was a madman. My hands squeezed her breasts, while her hands fumbled with my belt buckle. Normally, I’d take my time with her, but we didn’t have time. She was moaning and grunting in ways that made everything male in me come alive. A man needed a woman to want him like that sometimes.

  Nicole was anxious. Finally, got my dick out of my boxer briefs. She stroked it while gazing up at me. The heady gaze of her coffee-brown eyes was the only thing between us. I slipped my hands between her thighs. Moved her lace thong to the side. She was wet. So damn wet. Her excitement soaked my fingers.

  “Damn, baby,” I said.

  Her only response was a seductive smile. One that lit up the mischievousness in her eyes. I was all set, ready to go, until I remembered....

  “We have no condoms,” I said.

  Nicole’s smile never left. She kept stroking my manhood. Got it hard enough to split diamonds. She took my head and rubbed it in her wetness, up and down her slit, flicking it against her clit.

  “Baby, stop,” I said. My breath damn near caught in my throat. “Don’t play like that.”

  She gave me a look that said she was doing anything but playing.

  “We have no condoms, Nicole.”

  She twisted her lips and gave me something she never had, raw sex. She placed my dick where she wanted me to be. We both let out a gasp at the same time. Hers feminine and spine tingling. Mine rough and guttural.

  “Goddamn it, Nicole,” I whispered in a rough, aggravated, thoroughly primal and sexual tone.

  She was so hot, tight, and wet. We’d loved many times, but never raw. We took sexual health seriously. Also, we didn’t want any unplanned pregnancies. Nicole made the mistake of moving those thick hips. I knew damn well I should have pulled out. But, by God, her pussy sucked and pulled me in. I lost it. Fucked her in the back of that truck like I never would again. Ten hard, long strokes turned into five short ones. And then those short strokes turned into twenty more hard strokes that had her speaking in tongues.

  Nicole mumbled, “Fix it, Jesus.”

  I chuckled between strokes. She actually mumbled that shit, all the while still catching my thrusts and throwing them back at me.

  That was all I could think about as I stared at that white stick with two pink lines. The one and only time we hadn’t used a condom. She was pregnant. Nicole was pregnant with my kid. She’d come to tell me her secret, and instead, she’d walked in on mine.

  What happened after that was the reason I left New York.

  Eventually, after Nicole wouldn’t have me back, Demi and I ended up in a relationship. And that was the easy part, because of who he was. While we had shared many men, he balked at the notion of us sharing women.

  I didn’t think anything of it at first, not until he started to get upset when the women at my job would flirt with me. It seemed that while I trusted him, when it came to women, that was where his trust ended with me. I didn’t mind the threesomes with other men at all. In fact, I enjoyed almost all of them. However, my sexuality was fluid when it came to men and women, and as a bisexual man in an open relationship, I still desired women as well. I was what the old mind doctors would have called an amphigenic invert.

  I needed Demitri to understand that. If we were going to play around, and if I was going to go out of my way to make sure his desires were met, I deserved the same thing.

  “Because she’s important to me.”

  Demi chuckled. “So, shorty goes from being just some woman you’re fucking to being important?”

  “She’s been around for three years now, Demi. Two of which, yes, she’s become important.”

  “Important enough for you to miss major events in my life to fly to see her. Important enough for you to lie to me. You broke your own rules.”

  I nodded once, then stood, watching Demi. Both of us were fresh from the shower. Demi’s skin glistened under the sheen of the water. He had the body that women on the Internet swooned over. The kind of face that gave men pause and made women wonder.

  “I did,” I said.

  “If that had been me, you would have been ready to fight. I’m not mad. I’m annoyed. I’m annoyed you’ve been lying to me, telling me it’s just a fucking thing when clearly it ain’t. So, yeah, don’t think I’m just going to be ready to meet the woman you have on the side.”

  “Because it’s a woman. We don’t have this argument when men are involved.”

  Disdain was etched across Demi’s features. There was no hiding the fact that Samona’s sex was a problem. For some reason, he had the notion in his head that I was going to leave him for a woman. He’d joked about it many times, but after a while, I’d realized he wasn’t joking.

  “No. It’s because you act like you’re in a relationship with her. Because you act like you love her. You act like she’s more than what we agreed upon in this open relationship.”

 
It was my turn to tilt my head and look perplexed. “Oh, so you want to act like you haven’t don’t some bull crap that rubbed me the wrong way in this relationship? This open relationship? At least I’m being honest with you. You screwed another man in our bed, in our home, and you lied to me about it. Why? I don’t know. I no longer have a best friend, because I walked in on you fucking him. And then I had to put up with him bragging about the fact that you ate him out, in our home, on our bed, too. Don’t come at me with the bull crap about me acting—”

  Demi cut me off. “How many times do I have to apologize for that?”

  “I never accepted your damn apology, because it was bullshit. We made rules in this relationship. All you had to do was respect them. Respect me! We shouldn’t have even had to go through any of that. And now, now that I’m still being honest, you have a problem because Samona’s a woman?”

  Demi scoffed. “It’s got nothing to do with her being a woman! If you’d been fucking the same nigga on the side for two years, I’d be mad too. Keep leaving out the fact that you’ve been lying about her and having a secret relationship with her for the past two years. You want me to ignore that part.”

  “It’s not a relationship. And it’s never been a secret.”

  “Could have fucking fooled me. Three years? It’s something more than sex. I know that.”

  I wasn’t going to argue with him about that. It was kind of impossible to have a sexual relationship with someone for two years and not feel something for them.

  “I need you to meet her.”

  Demi shook his head as he roughly ran his towel over his arms. “No, you don’t. Don’t know what the purpose would be.”

  Moments before, I had had him biting the pillow as I made love to him. Moments before, he’d been trying to take my whole length and all my girth while fighting the urge to come too soon. I’d licked his back. Sucked on his neck. Bitten him in some places. We liked that kinky shit. Sometimes we played hard. Other times we played harder. His hand had stroked his dick, while mine had held on to his waist to keep him in place.

 

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