Bi-Sensual

by Nikki- Michelle

  Once I finished clearing the table, I turned to find Demitri standing where Elliot had left him. Pain was in his eyes.

  “You okay?” I asked.

  He glanced at me but didn’t say anything. He walked into the bathroom, then locked himself inside. I didn’t know what the hell had happened between him and Elliot, but for some reason, Demitri had a strong distrust of Elliot when it came to Nicole. So much so that it even made me worry.

  Had Elliot loved Nicole so much that she could come in after all these years and capture his heart like she’d never left? That worried me because Elliot had no heartstrings tied to me. He didn’t love me, but he loved Demitri. That meant if Elliot ran off with Nicole, he wouldn’t owe me any explanation. I’d be left out in the cold. That thought chilled me.

  I went back to my laptop. Picked up the story where I had left off. Heard water running in the bathroom. I was about ten minutes into writing when Demitri came back out.

  “She’s manipulating him,” he said.

  I turned in the desk chair. “You think so?”

  “I know so. It’s what she does.”

  “Could it be possible she really just wants to talk to him about his son?”

  He shook his head. “And he will fall for her shit. He’ll lap it up. She’ll have him like a trained fucking dog.” There was a faraway look in his eyes when he said that. Like he was reliving a time when Nicole had Elliot under her spell.

  “It’s been a long time,” I said.

  “Don’t matter. It’s Nicole. Nicole can make a man sell his soul to be with her. Nicole could make Jesus betray God.”

  Demitri said that the way a man who had regrets would. Like he was speaking from experience. It made me tilt my head and frown a bit, but I brushed it off. Demitri walked past me. Picked up his bike helmet and pulled his leather biker jacket on.

  “You’re leaving?” I asked.

  “Yeah,” he answered.

  I didn’t want to be left alone. Not with all that had just happened, so I asked him to stay.

  “No. I need to leave,” was his answer.

  I felt rejected. I turned to go back in the bedroom. Demitri followed me.

  “You can come with me,” he said. “I have an extra helmet. Going to the house. I’ll bring you back later. So get your laptop or whatever you need for a few hours.”

  He didn’t give me time to respond. He walked back into the living area. I got up and put some jeans on and my combat boots. I’d taken the rental back two weeks ago since either Demitri or Elliot was always driving me around. I pulled on a sports bra and then a hoodie. Stuffed some personal items and my laptop in my book bag.

  It didn’t take us long to get to their place. I was scared shitless on the back of that bike, but Demitri was a pro. So he made the ride smooth. Once we got inside, he was silent. I could tell a lot was on his mind. Both of our phones chimed at the same time. Elliot had texted to let us know he was okay and had made it to Nicole’s hotel. Not even that took away the sour look on Demitri’s face.

  “Will you tell me why it bothers you so much?” I asked.

  We were in their bedroom, on the bed. The TV was on, but he wasn’t watching it.

  He didn’t even look at me when he answered. “You know, it’s possible for a person to love two people, be in love with two people at the same time. There are different kinds of love, you know. Different phases. First, you like someone, and then you become infatuated with them. That infatuation turns into passion. Passion turns into a romantic kind of love. Then that romantic love turns into fatuous love. With fatuous love, you just have that burning passion and commitment. That’s the ‘crazy in love’ shit Beyoncé used to sing about. That ‘dangerously in love’ type shit.”

  I listened, wondering where he was taking this.

  “Then you get lucky and you find that one person who brings you consummate love. They get you high on intimacy, passion, and commitment. They take you to places you never thought you would go. They know all your faults. They know you’re crazy. They’ve seen it up close and personal, and afterward, they come back and they love you, anyway, because deep down, you’re their reflection.”

  “Okay,” I said.

  “So you have passion, a physical and sexual attraction. Then you have intimacy, which leads to attachment. Then comes commitment, the ability to stay connected no matter what.”

  He stopped for a second. I wondered if he was finished talking. It was almost as if he was talking to himself. He had that faraway look in his eyes again. I didn’t know where his mind had taken him, but it was almost scary. It was as if—

  “You ain’t had love until you’ve had consummate love,” he said out of the blue, breaking my train of thought. “We’re perfect for one another, in our own way. Just like I lost her, I almost lost him. But he came back. He listened. He understood. He knew me, because he was me. He knew what it was to love someone with everything you had, then lose them. To lose that drives a man a little nuts. They say men aren’t supposed to be emotional. We aren’t supposed to know love that deep, but I did. She taught me. She taught me there was nothing feminine about a man being in love.”

  “Your ex?”

  “Yes.”

  “What was her name?”

  He hesitated a moment. Like he didn’t want me to know her name. Like he didn’t want to run the risk of me tainting her name by saying it.

  He gritted his teeth before saying, “Shelle. She was my Shelle.”

  He said “my” with such possessiveness, love, and a bit of insanity that it made the hairs stand up on the back of my neck.

  “She taught me, and then he solidified it,” Demitri said.

  “He meaning Elliot?” I asked, just to be certain.

  Demitri nodded. “Yes.”

  He got quiet again. Picked his phone up and sent a text. No doubt he texted Elliot. Same as I’d done.

  “She still loves him,” Demitri said.

  “How do you know?”

  “A woman doesn’t stay that angry at a man for that long.”

  “That could be hate.”

  “It isn’t.”

  “How do you know?”

  Demitri looked at me through the mirror. “Because I still hate Shelle.”

  I swallowed. Demitri was so vulnerable in this moment. So vastly different from the man I’d met. Sadness was in his eyes. I didn’t know if I should have empathy for him or think he was pathetic to still be holding on to a love that had ended so long ago.

  As if he knew what I was thinking, he said, “I wasn’t finished loving her. She left me in love with a revolving door. I had no proper ending. She didn’t give me a chance, like she promised.”

  He walked away. Head down. Shoulders slumped. Went into their walk-in closet, then closed the door behind him. I heard him rummaging around. He was a man who was still in love with a woman he could never have again. She’d left him, same as Nicole had left Elliot. In their shared pain, Demitri and Elliot had become the perfect lovers. Elliot loved Demitri and would never leave him, at least not for me.

  However, the way Demitri reacted to Nicole led me to believe that Elliot would drop both of us if Nicole said the right thing. That scared me. To know a woman had that much power over Elliot frightened me. Only because Elliot had that much power over me. If Elliot left Demitri and went back to Nicole in any capacity, I knew there was a strong possibility that he could still have me . . . in any capacity.

  I heard Demitri’s phone beep. Then he cursed. Mumbled something in his native tongue that I couldn’t understand. But judging by the tone in his voice, it was nothing nice. I checked my phone, hoping for some kind of response from Elliot. There was none. I was at the bottom of that totem pole. I didn’t know if Nicole came first or if Demitri came second, but I knew I was last. Dead last. My eyes watered. I didn’t know Nicole, but I started to hate her. For a little while, anyway.

  Demitri came out of the closet a little while later. In his hand was a lockbox and a small
key. He walked over to where I was. Sat on the bed next to me.

  “Take your laptop out. Want to show you something,” he said.

  I did. Pulled my laptop from my bag and powered it up. He opened the lockbox and looked inside. He took out pictures, letters, birthday cards, homemade DVDs, and a big brown envelope. I couldn’t help myself. When I saw pictures of a smiling Elliot standing next to woman with long braids, I picked them up.

  Elliot was happy in those photos. There was no doubt about it. He was younger, a bit leaner with muscle, compared to his thickness with muscle now. There she was. The infamous Nicole. She had braids just like mine. Long and pencil thin. She was thick. As Demitri had said, she was not as toned as me, but we had the same shape. I was taller than she was by at least two inches. Her smile was vibrant. She was wrapped around Elliot’s waist like she had been glued there.

  In another picture, they were at a birthday party, hers. She and Elliot were sharing a piece of cake. They were dressed alike. Her braids were pulled back into a bun. Love was in the air, and happiness was in their eyes. Another photo showed them on a yacht. In another they were jumping off a cliff in Jamaica, holding hands.

  Then came the provocative pictures. She was smiling and posing seductively. It was clear Elliot was behind the camera judging by the familiar naughtiness in her eyes. At first she was covering her breasts and hiding her womanly parts. Another few pictures in and she was all out. Legs spread. Pussy wet. Nipples erect. Her head was thrown back, and her mouth was open, like she was in the middle of an orgasm.

  I flipped through those pictures. Then saw Elliot on the bed with her. Naked. Kissing her. Hands on her sex. Finger inside of her. Nicole looked to be totally enraptured. I swallowed. Felt that familiar pang of jealousy settling in my stomach, tying it in knots.

  Then he was on top of her. Her legs around his waist. I’d seen enough of that. I put the pictures down. Looked through the DVDs. They were dated. I laid those to the side, then looked through the envelope. There were money order receipts inside it. The money orders had been made out to Nicole M. Newsam. In the bottom right corner of the receipts there was a little notation that read “Child support.” They dated back seven years, and none of them were less than fifteen hundred dollars a month. Nicole hadn’t allowed him to be a part of his son’s life, but Elliot had still been doing the right thing. He hadn’t allowed Nicole to take care of his son by herself.

  There were more pictures of Elliot and Nicole, but I couldn’t bring myself to look at them. Demitri picked up the DVDs. Randomly picked one. Reached over to my laptop and inserted the DVD.

  “What is this?” I asked him.

  “Just watch,” was all he said.

  I heard her giggle. Her giggle was so beautiful, it rubbed me the wrong way. “El,” she crooned. “Stop playing and come on.”

  She was naked on a bed. Long braids curtaining her back. Clearly, she was relaxed around Elliot. She didn’t try to hide her nudity. She trusted him, as could be seen by the way she was so comfortable in front of a camera with him.

  “I’m coming. I’m coming,” Elliot said, then chuckled. “Trying to make sure the damn thing doesn’t fall again,” he said.

  “It’s fine, babe. Hurry. I have to meet Papa at the church soon.”

  She was a PK, a preacher’s kid. According to the stereotype, they were the freakiest. Nicole was proving this point. Elliot walked from behind the camera. Ass taut, legs defined, with powerful muscles. Back strong. He was a king among men. Even when he was younger, he commanded attention. His hair was longer. Almost the same as Demitri’s at the present moment.

  Nicole was anxious, but not as anxious as Elliot. He crawled onto the bed. Kissed her. Touched her. His hands couldn’t stop touching her. Just as his mouth couldn’t stop tasting her. He buried his face between her legs and didn’t let up until she was stuttering. Nicole was all into it. Preacher’s kid or not, her mouth was filthy. The more she told Elliot what to do with his mouth, the more he obliged.

  She wanted him to taste her pussy. Eat her pussy. Spell his name on it. Use his fingers. She wanted him to use his fingers. Finger fuck her. And he did. Elliot put two fingers inside of her and stroked like he was trying to find her G-spot, then rearrange it. Yeah. Just like that. That was how she wanted it.

  She squeezed her breasts. Pulled at her nipples as her hips bucked off the bed. Elliot pulled back long enough to don a condom. He crawled between her open, willing, and wet thighs. Took his time entering her, like he was afraid he’d hurt her. Elliot worked her over for so long and so well that sweat beaded on his back and the crack of his ass. His muscles were working overtime.

  “Oh, fuck, Nicole,” Elliot groaned.

  He started moving faster. Nicole’s cries of passion got louder. Her nails raked down his back.

  “El . . . El . . . oh, God. Oh, God . . . oh . . . Fix it, Jesus,” she wailed. “Sl-slow down, baby. Pace . . . pace yourself. Breathe, baby. Breathe. Four . . . ,” she said.

  I watched Elliot’s stroke slow down. He took a deep breath for four seconds.

  Nicole guided him. “Seven . . .”

  Elliot stroked as he held his breath. While she guided him, she massaged his scalp. That shit drove him nuts. Demitri was talking. I turned to look at him. His eyes were on my laptop. He was talking along with Nicole. Saying what she was saying word for word, as if he had watched this video many times before. The same way I could recite lines from episodes of The Golden Girls word for word, as it was my favorite TV show.

  She said,” Eight . . .”

  Elliot released at eight. His back humped. Body shivered and shook. Elliot grabbed a handful of her braids. She loved that shit. Her beautiful voice turned throaty, husky. Eyes widened and rolled in the back of her head like she was Linda Blair. Elliot roared, and Nicole soared. Soared all the way to heaven on the wings of Elliot.

  I got up and stopped the video. I ejected the DVD from my laptop and tossed it on the bed. Elliot had taught me what Nicole had taught him. He’d given me the lessons his lover had given him. I had to wonder which of Nicole’s lovers had taught her what she’d taught Elliot.

  Elliot

  “You look good,” Nicole said.

  We were sitting in the lobby of her hotel. Off in the corner, away from other eyes and ears. The place was busy. People with luggage were walking in and out. Some going to the pool. Others going to the fitness area. I was nervous. Nicole sat across from me in black tights, thigh-high black boots, and a loose blouse.

  Her straight hair was pulled back into a sleek ponytail. Her dark skin was as perfect as I remembered. She was a little thicker than I remembered, but she wore it well and in all the right places. Her brown eyes were locked on mine. An old feeling stirred around in my gut. Made me feel guilty, since I’d left two lovers back in a hotel room to come meet with her.

  “Thank you,” I responded. “You do too. Married with children looks good on you.”

  She gave a tight-lipped smile, then ran her hand over her ponytail. “Thank you.”

  We had been sitting there for a good thirty minutes. We’d talked about Jacques. Talked about how she wanted this partnership to work. I’d asked why she didn’t just call and discuss it over the phone. She’d said that though it went against her husband’s wishes, she would rather discuss it in person. So we had. I’d pretty much agreed to everything she said.

  I could call only on the weekends. Jacques could call me only three times a week. I couldn’t call after eight, nor could I call before noon on the weekends.

  Could I see him on his birthdays? She’d think about it.

  Could I see him during the summer? She wasn’t sure. Depended on the family vacations her family had planned.

  Could he visit me in Atlanta? Hell to the no. Not as long as Demi was in my life.

  She’d said that part like she meant it.

  “Thank you for coming,” I said, trying to make the awkwardness disappear. “I appreciate you giving me this opportunity.�
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  I sounded like I was at a damn job interview. She handled me like she was unsure. Like I was a candidate for a position within her company, as opposed to my son’s father. There was still some distrust in her eyes.

  “It was time,” she said.

  I nodded.

  “He’s getting older. Asking a lot of questions. He’s smart as hell,” she said with a prideful smile.

  I returned the same smile. “I could tell. His vocabulary is impeccable.”

  “He was born smart as a whip. He has your genes.”

  “You’re smart too, Nikki.”

  She swallowed hard when I called her that. Kept her eyes averted from mine. She rolled her shoulders and cleared her throat. She said, “Not as smart as you. He’s you two-point-oh when it comes to math. By the time he gets to third grade, he’s going to take a test to skip a grade.”

  I couldn’t help the warm feeling that settled over me. “I hope I’m able to help him with that leap forward when the time comes.”

  “If . . . if everything goes well with this, then who knows?”

  An awkward silence settled over us again. She people watched, then picked up the Starbucks coffee cup she’d come downstairs with. She took a long sip, then set it back down.

  “I don’t want it to be like this every time we see one another,” I said.

  “We left things pretty bad between us,” she said.

  “Is there any way we can get past it?”

  “Is he still around?”

  I didn’t respond.

  “Then no,” she replied. “No.”

  I nodded.

  “All the money you’ve been sending has gone into a college fund for him,” she said.

  “Okay.”

  “As you can see, he knows who you are. I didn’t lie to him and tell him Malcolm was his real father.”

  “I appreciate that. I do.”

  “I let him see your parents. We meet somewhere every other Sunday so they can see him.”

  “Okay.”

  “And he’s met his uncles and aunts, your siblings.”

  “All right.”

  “Will you freaking quit short answering me?” she snapped.