by Clara Nipper
“No,” she said airily, stepping away. “You’ve gotten to the gate. I can’t invite you further.” With melting eyes, she stared at me and added, “Not yet.”
I leaned down and kissed her, long and hot and deep.
“Besides,” she continued, as if I had done nothing, “you need to be ready for me.” She tapped my forehead. “Up here.”
“Why? I don’t want a mind fuck. I’m ready where I need to be.”
Hellion shook her head. I nodded, finally understanding. I lit another cigarette and sucked it hard. “You’re cheating on your husband, aren’t you?”
“No.” She paused. “I’m cheating on my wife.”
“Why isn’t she here? I’ve asked around about you. Why hasn’t anyone ever seen her?”
“Because she’s in a wheelchair.”
I smoothed my shocked response. “You’re shitting me.”
“No, I’m not. It’s hard for her to get around, so she sticks to places that conform to ADA standards.” Hellion’s voice was brittle.
“Let me get this straight. You’re two-timing a cripple? That’s cold.”
“Not two-timing exactly.” She downed the rest of her glass and handed it to me and I flagged the bartender. “We have an open relationship.”
“An open relationship. That just means you two are broken up but can’t let go.”
“No. No, it really works for us.”
“You mean she sits home alone in a heartbroken rage while you come out and play games.”
She smiled and rolled her eyes. “That shows how little you know. She does really well. You wouldn’t believe the number of soft, sympathetic caretakers who want to scratch my eyes out and marry her.”
“Phew, you two do love the drama. I like my cunts less complicated.”
“Well, we thrive on it. It stimulates our passion and deepens our love.”
“Sure it does. I doubt the tiny amount of outside sex you’ve had has been worth the enormous amount of pain, jealousy, and processing.”
“Well…”
“So, forget it, honey.” I caressed her face. “I don’t mess with married women.” I flashed on my past. “As a rule. Talk to me after you’ve had a clean break.”
Hellion shrugged, got out her keys, and snapped her purse closed. “That’s fine. There’s plenty more in line just like you.” She took me in her arms and whispered in my ear, “I’ll be getting it good and nasty at home in less than thirty minutes, how about you?”
I shoved her away, my mouth curled. I refused to watch her leave; instead I turned and signaled the bartender for a refill.
A little ways down the counter, I nodded to a beautiful woman who stared at me. She approached me, a purposeful look in her eyes.
“Say, sistah, how you doing?” I leaned my back on the bar, slouching, and propped my elbows on the railing.
“Ubiqua.” The woman held out her hand. I shook it.
“Nora. Hmm, Ubiqua, that’s nice. That means big beautiful butt in Swahili, right?”
“No, it means I’ll kick your sorry black ass if you disrespect me.”
“Uh-huh. So, Ubiqua, how you doing?”
“Oh, I’m just fine. I am worried about you, though.”
I laughed. “Don’t mar your pretty face with worry about me. Why don’t we dance and that will take your mind off it?”
Ubiqua held up a hand. “Don’t play that shit with me. I want to talk to you.”
“All right, go.”
“Why do you chase white women? You know they can’t do for you what a fine black sister can do. What’s up with that? Do you hate your race?”
“A fine, fine, fine sister like you? Why don’t we hook up?” I let a grin spread slowly over my face, looking the voluptuous Ubiqua up and down.
“No, I told you to cut that shit. I’m already set. I have a date. A black date.”
“Listen.” I leaned down and stared Ubiqua in the eyes. “I do not hate my race. See?” I rattled my wrist. “A bracelet from my African ancestors. I love women. And I love to lie with whoever looks good. A lot of white women look good. And a lot of black women look good. It’s just easier to find white women. I don’t hate any race. Seems like you’re the one who is racist, eliminating people due to skin color.”
“There are things more important than convenience. That you can’t find black women to be with is the lamest excuse yet. That honky poon already steals our black men; it makes me sick that they can take our women too.”
“Why don’t you relax?” I sighed and sipped my fresh gin and tonic. Payne and Carol were nowhere in sight. “I’ve heard all this tired shit before. Quit politicizing sex. Sex is just good and I love it no matter what the color it wears.”
“Nora, sex is the only politics. The oldest and original politics. Every choice we make and how we live impacts the future. I’m just trying to help you out and give you some sound advice.”
“Love has no color and misery has no color either. Live and let live, right?”
“That is such a useless cliché.”
“Did a white woman break your heart or steal your daddy?”
Ubiqua drew herself tall. “Neither.”
“Then get lost. I’ll fuck who I like.”
“I told you I’d kick your raggedy ass.” Ubiqua clenched her fists.
“Then why don’t you? We can go outside right now and I’ll let you because I’m not fighting a femme. And when it’s over, I’ll still fuck whatever I please.”
“Just think about it.” Ubiqua’s manner changed to pleading. She waved to a dark woman waiting for her by the door. “Just think about it.”
I sighed again. “I will if you will.”
Ubiqua’s eyes flashed with anger but she left without saying anything more. I saluted her masculine girlfriend before they exited.
I returned to the wobbly table, now empty. But their drinks were still there, so Payne and Carol must be around somewhere. I sat and rolled a cigarette. I tried not to think of Hellion, but of course, I did anyway.
I put Hellion on her back, nude. I stood over her, feasting upon the sight. I poured warm oil all over her. I started at her neck and drizzled it very slowly down her body. I poured over peaks and valleys, the oil hugging every curve. The oil spread shiny wetness everywhere. Her large breasts were bathed in slippery warmth, her tan nipples erect. She squirmed and moaned. I avoided her dark pubic hair, pouring the oil down each leg instead. Then I returned to her cunt and poured the rest of the oil there. “Going to have to rub it all in,” I told her.
“Start here,” Hellion said, swinging her legs wide.
“Don’t tell me where to start.” I laughed, pulling Hellion’s legs closed. “I’ll start here.” I stripped, my flat stomach and slim, square hips flexing as I stood on the bed and then sat on Hellion’s glistening middle and cradled her breasts. She closed her eyes, her chin high in surrender. I massaged oil into her chest, above and below her breasts, her rib cage, her limp arms, and her round throat.
“My breasts…please…more…” She moaned, trying to arch up to me.
“Got you just where you deserve to be,” I said, ignoring the begging breasts, heavy and swaying with desire. I flicked one nipple and she gasped, trembling.
She stared up at me, and said, “God, you’re hot.”
“That will get you exactly nowhere.”
“You know it’s what you want too,” she whispered fiercely.
“You have no idea what I want,” I replied, stroking Hellion’s sides. Even in fantasy, flashback to a Redhead.
“I do so.” And with a great grunt, Hellion swung her legs up and hooked my shoulders, pulling me flat on my back. She scrambled and pinned me to the bed, grinning. “I know you want this.” She stretched her arms overhead and then caressed her own breasts, moaning. “See? You do. And I know you want this too.” She arched back over my legs and slid her hands down her body until she reached her cunt. I was stunned into immobility and just watched, my mouth going wet. S
he stroked herself, her hips pulsing, her belly shining upward. I tried to move and found my arms cleverly pinned by her feet.
“Hey…hey now.” I struggled. “What are you, a wrestler? I don’t go for this whole flipping thing.”
“What?” Hellion sat up and smirked at me. “Is someone whining? Thought you were made of stronger stuff.” She ran her hands over my face and chest. “You are one handsome butch. Thirsty? Here.” She inserted a finger into her own cunt and then plunged it into my mouth, pulling it out before I could bite her. She spread herself open. “See how much I want you?”
I nodded.
“Now you just lie quiet,” she said, pleasuring herself with much groaning and writhing.
With a burst of strength, I wrenched my arms free and knocked her to her back, holding her down with a gentle grip on her throat. I flung her legs apart with my other hand and cupped her cunt. “I can do so much better than you,” I growled.
Carol sat at the table, startling me. “Whatcha thinking about?”
I looked at her, the remnants of the fantasy still smoking in my eyes. “Nothing. Nothing at all. Where have you two been?” I started to roll a cigarette.
Carol giggled. “Payne wanted to smoke a joint so we went outside. She’ll be right back. You and Payne best friends?”
“No.”
“Known each other long?”
“No.”
“So it would be okay if I…” Carol held my hand, opened it, and kissed the palm. The half-rolled smoke lay forgotten on the table.
I pulled my hand away. “What the fuck? I thought you were interested in Payne. That ain’t cool.”
Carol giggled again. “No, I never was. I thought I could get to you through her.”
“I’ll be damned. Does Payne know this?”
Payne sat down. “Does Payne know what?”
“Why should she? She’ll find out soon enough, right?” Carol said.
I laughed and laughed, scattering tobacco all over the table and floor.
“Find out what? Goddammit, tell me.” Payne’s voice was sharp. When no one answered, Payne grabbed Carol. “Let’s go. Now.”
Carol pulled away. “Sure, I’ll go, but only if Nora is ready.”
I held up my hands and shook my head, still overcome with mirth.
“What do you mean?” Payne was angry.
“I mean I’m not leaving with you, I’m leaving with Nora.”
“What?” Payne shouted, oblivious to observers.
“Keep cool, keep cool,” I murmured.
“Fuck you, asshole,” Payne snapped. “I turn my back to go socialize with my friends for five minutes and you do this just because you struck out? I don’t believe this.”
“It wasn’t my idea. Calm down.”
Payne slugged me on the shoulder. “Fuck off.”
I stood up fast, knocking my own chair backward. The entire bar was watching.
“Payne, we just met. You don’t own me,” Carol said.
“Shut up, bitch.” Payne never stopped staring at me.
“You surprise me, Payne,” I said. “You’re rude, you have no class, and you can’t even keep the ladies interested in you long enough to give you a try.” I took Carol’s arm. She smiled up at me and I continued, “Share how that makes you feel inside.” I walked away with my arm around Carol just as the bartender came over to break it up. Carol squeezed me and laughed happily as if she had just won a prize.
“I don’t care about that bitch anyway or that no-account Negro, let them go,” Payne said loudly. I was unconcerned and waved as Carol and I left. I was used to winning women, no matter who was competing. I also had a thick skin about the shame and sour grapes that made the loser attack. Nothing else mattered, I won.
Chapter Fourteen
I looked down at this slip of a woman, my victory fading. What had I won? I unlocked the car. “You need a ride home?”
Carol was confused. “But, baby, I thought…I thought we would…”
“Well, you’re wrong. I’ll give you a ride home, but that’s it.”
Carol pouted. “Why? What’s wrong?”
I approached and put my arms around her. “I’m sure you’re a nice person and that was really fun back there, but you’re not really…I mean, there’s just no chemistry. I’m sorry.”
Carol’s eyes flashed. “Is that so?”
I was suddenly very tired. “You want a ride or not?”
“Yes.” Carol tightened her arms and pulled me close. “And a lot more,” she said as she kissed me deeply.
“All right, let’s go,” I barked after the kiss. It had been too good to resist. If this woman wanted me that much, who was I to reject that? I would be doing a good deed, helping fulfill Carol’s desires. Who was I to be so stingy and selfish? I had a gift and it was mean of me not to share when a woman so clearly needed it. Carol grinned and scampered to the passenger door and got inside. I began driving.
“Mmm, nice car.” Carol looked around. “So plush. Leather seats? And so clean.” Carol squinted at me with a rakish smile. “I would’nt’ve guessed it of you.”
“It’s not mine,” I said. “Where do you live?”
“Really, whose is it, then? A woman’s?” Carol touched my arm.
“Yes, it is a woman’s. She let me borrow it. Which way do I go?”
“Your girlfriend?” Carol’s flirtatiousness was bordering on sullenness now.
I braked hard and pulled over to the curb. “Hey! Snap out of it. If you want a ride home and anything else, I need to know how to get to your motherfucking house.”
Carol blanched. “Fine. Turn right up here.”
I drove in silence.
“Left.” Carol was pouting, her arms crossed. “Second right, third left.”
I said nothing, the big, smooth car easing the way. I ignored Carol’s loud sulking.
“There on the right, fourth from the corner, with the gnomes.”
“All right.” I sighed, sliding the car to the curb, my mouth curling at the garish display of colorful gnomes cavorting in the yard. “Here we are.” I turned off the motor expectantly.
“Wait.” Carol’s lower lip stuck out and her eyes were wounded. She looked like a basset hound.
“Yeah?”
“You were really rough back there.” Carol picked up my hand and played with it.
“Yeah?”
“Uh-huh. I didn’t like it.” Carol was breathless. “But I did.”
“Yeah.”
“It’s not right to treat me like that.” A sly smile plucked at her lips.
“Yeah, well, you want someone gallant and whipped, you should’ve chosen Payne.” I started the car. “See you around.” I put the car in gear and waited for Carol to leave.
“But I don’t want Payne,” Carol said with emphatic drama.
“What do you want?”
“Don’t you know?” Carol batted her eyes. “What does a girl have to do?”
I put my hand on the back of Carol’s neck and squeezed. “A girl has to make up my mind. You want someone who looks like me and acts like Payne, well, that’s not what you have, so now what? Am I in or out?”
Carol leaned forward and pressed herself against me. “In,” she breathed into my mouth.
I gave her a stern look and turned off the car. “Let’s go.”
“But wait.” Carol pulled back and huddled by the door.
“What now?”
“You were mean to me. You’re being mean now. I don’t like it.”
I rolled my eyes. “We could’ve been done by now if it weren’t for your everlasting gum flapping.” I took a breath and lowered my voice. “Listen, we can do this or not. I don’t care. But I’ll tell you one thing, this Reluctant Lesbian act doesn’t turn me on. Either you want to and will or you don’t and won’t. So answer carefully, because the next word you say will determine your future.”
“Yes.” Carol smiled bashfully. “But—”
“Forget it, you already de
cided. Come on!” I leaped out of the car and went to open Carol’s door, dragging her from the vehicle. I jogged to the front door, Carol leaping to keep up and emitting a series of soft, insincere protestations. Carol opened the front door and waited.
“What, you want me to carry you over the threshold?” I asked, shoving her.
Inside, I went directly to the bedroom. I had a bloodhound’s unerring instinct for knowing where the bedrooms were in any building.
“I’ve got to make a quick call,” Carol said.
“Fine.” I pulled off my boots, turned the ceiling fan on high, pulled the bedspread off, and went to the bathroom for mouthwash. After rinsing my mouth, I returned to the bedroom and lit what candle stubs I could find. I didn’t care about this detail, but I knew that Carol would. I heard talking on the phone as Carol came down the hall.
“Payne, just to let you know, I can lend you the money. I can give you half now and half on Friday. Call me back when you get this to let me know when you want to pick it up. Bye.” Then I heard Carol opening a door and a scrabbling of ecstatic claws on tile. “Come on, Foofers, come on, baby! Yes, that’s mama’s itty-bitty baby, did you miss me? Num num nummy, I missed you. Yes, I did, my widdle Foofer woofer. Come on, come on, come on!”
Carol came in to the room holding a small, white, fluffy, panting dog.
I watched the two of them. “I don’t do it with dogs.”
Carol laughed. “Of course not!” She sat on the bed and played with the dog. “Foofers is my baby! My fluffy-wuffy softie-woftie iddy-biddy baby!”
“No, no.” I smiled hard. “I don’t do it with dogs in the house.”
Carol stared at me, hurt and incredulous. “Why not?”
I stretched out on my back, covering the entire bed, feeling like an indolent tiger, my hands propped behind my neck. “Because it compromises your focus.”
“What do you mean?” Carol stroked the animal, nuzzling and kissing his head. “You are my beautiful Foofy, aren’t you, baby puppy love?”
“I mean,” I sat up and adopted a babyish falsetto, “Oh, wook at the dog? Isn’t it adorable? Look, look, look, oh what’s the dog doing? Where’s the dog? Is the dog okay? Does the dog need a snack? Does the dog need a treat? Does the dog need to make? Does the dog need a toy? Does the dog need a bed? Does the dog need to be held? Does the dog need some love? Does the dog need encouragement? Does the dog need self-esteem? Does the dog need therapy? Does the dog—”