Bassment Deep

by Curtis Bennett

  Margo nodded, then dragged her gaze from him to glance over his shoulder at the large glass-paned hotel entrance. What she saw was a tall lanky plainclothes hotel security man standing near the entrance peering their way. “Well, if that doesn’t work and I get a ticket for illegal parking, I’ll make sure you get the bill,” she chuckled.

  Kissing her on the lips, he smiled, saying, “Don’t worry, I’ve got you covered.” Exiting the car he approached the entrance. From her enclosed perch, she observed him say something to the plainclothes security officer, who nodded, then glanced her way. He then threw a wink at her then disappeared into the hotel. She returned it with a bubbly smile and a slight wave of her hand.

  Now alone, she grabbed her purse, and pulled out her make-up kit and a small hand mirror. After touching up her lips, and adding a little more blush, she took the hand mirror and viewed her French twist from the back. Great! She thought. Every strand was still perfectly tucked in place. She then sprayed a dab of her favorite perfume Beautiful about her smooth neck, her soft hands, and a dab behind her fleshy earlobes. Satisfied, she put on a jazz CD and waited.

  In a short while, several band members approached her car to chat briefly and to thank her for being a part of their musical family. She thanked them for the wonderful jazz, and the time they shared together. She gave each band member a hug through the car window. When Ma’Kentu returned, the limousine pulled off. Margo and Ma’Kentu followed. The two vehicles glided to a stop forty minutes later at Jacksonville International Airport. With mixed emotions, the two lovers faced one another.

  “Damn, you look good,” he said, as he stroked his hand down the side of her smiling face. “I just have to take a moment to absorb it all,” he added, while his gaze raked lower to her low cut blouse, which showed ample cleavage, then down lower to her shapely nylon-clad legs. “I’m telling you, I’m going to miss you and in more ways than one.”

  Beneath the cotton fabric of her dark blue skirt and the white silk chemise, her brown skin tingled with excitement, an excitement brought on by his manly gaze and manly words. “Honey, I’m going to miss you, too,” she added, in a soothing voice. “Don’t forget to call me tonight, after you settle in.”

  “I will. Just remember to keep the end of this month open,” he said, stroking her earlobe playfully. “I’ll need you to pick me up here. I’ll get back with you on an exact arrival time.”

  “Okay, love,” she beamed with wet eyes. “Please forgive me if I don’t go inside the terminal with you all. I might not want to let you go.”

  Embracing her tenderly, he told her that everything was going to be all right. “Time will go by fast,” he reassured her. Closing in on her parted mouth, he kissed her moist lips as though they were a delicacy, lips mingled with her own salty tears. With a throbbing heart, she clung to him, her eyes closed, her hand stroking his thigh. She felt heady, passion-filled, as the warmth of his love engulfed her. When his hot lips left hers, she remained motionless for a moment with her eyes closed, and when she opened them, she collapsed against his upper chest.

  Talking softly above her head, his arm wrapped protectively around her soft shoulder, he told her how much he loved her and would miss her. Reaching upward, she kissed him one last time. Then he exited the car. “I love you, too,” she mouthed, tears streaming down her cheeks.

  That night, she stood by the large bay window of her bedroom looking out over the dark ocean. Her thoughts were on Ma’Kentu, whom she had just gotten off of the phone with moments earlier. The conversation, though brief, was warm and vibrant. He told her he was going to turn in early. It had been a long day, and a restless flight home to Indiana, as he explained to her. He was quick to emphasize how much he loved her and missed her. Margo expressed the same sentiment to him. She could not remember the last time she felt this happy, this much in love. The joy and happiness he brought back into her life were like tangible things, a fiery nova that melted through her like warm honey. Having quietly enjoyed several minutes of a faint ocean breeze, which gently billowed the tall curtains, she secured the windows. With a sigh, she turned and crossed the room and climbed into bed. Tucking a spare pillow under her arm, she fell fast asleep.

  Loud sirens from several passing squad cars brought Ma’Kentu abruptly into an upright sitting position. It was near the break of dawn, he concluded, after burning a glance at the clock on the table. He had to smile to himself, after he realized where he was. Welcome home to big city life again, he mused silently. He had only been in the area less than twenty-four hours and already he missed the quiescent small town atmosphere of the oldest city in America, St. Augustine, along with the soothing sounds of a restless Atlantic Ocean splashing against Margo’s beachfront property. Indianapolis was one hell of a reality check, if ever there was one between city life and country life.

  Rising out of bed, he prepared himself for a very long and busy day. He was scheduled to meet with Al at a studio they had leased for the week to lay down some tracks for the band’s new CD and do some pre-production work. Afterwards, he wanted to visit with family and friends, most whom he had not seen in months. Finally, he wanted to shop for groceries and find a gift for Margo.

  By six o’clock that evening, he was certain he had accomplished most of what he had set out to do. Returning home, he stored the groceries. Next on his agenda, a gift for Margo. After he finished eating a club sandwich he had purchased, he freshened up, and headed out for the local mall. He soon came upon a popular upscale lady’s lingerie boutique. His interest piqued, he entered. Before long, a very diminutive, and attractive, clerk descended upon him with an offer of assistance. He accepted her offer then went about describing what he had in mind, in the way of purchases. The attentive clerk placed her finger to her chin. “What’s her size?” He was asked. Slightly embarrassed, he had to admit he did not know.

  “Don’t worry, most men don’t know their partner’s dress size,” said the clerk, in a reassuring tone. “Is there anyone you see in the store that comes close to your partner’s height and size?”

  Scanning the store his eyes locked on an attractive customer down the aisle. “The young lady down there. She’s the same height and built, I’m sure.”

  “Good! Then your partner is a medium,” she stated matter-of-factly.

  Armed with that knowledge, he resumed his search. Stopping, he picked out a satin and lace bustier, with matching G-string and satin front inset. Then he picked out a black one-piece sparkle mesh underwire bustier with attached black sparkle stockings and lacy black panties. The clerk reappeared and assured him that his selection contained quality-notched items she was sure Margo would love.

  Moving on, he browsed about some more. An aisle later, he came upon a racy red off shoulder dress. Perfect! He thought, as he envisioned Margo wearing the dress, along with the other items he had purchased. Satisfied, he followed the clerk to the counter where he paid for his purchases and had them gift-wrapped. Before departing the mall, he made one more stop to purchase a card to send along with the gifts. Once home, he found an empty box and some old newspapers. After shredding the paper with his shredding machine, he boxed the gifted-wrapped items along with the accompanying card, and then readied the box for shipping. The next day he would express mail it to Margo.

  Margo sat at the kitchen table, in her robe, and sipped from a cup of hot lemon-flavored tea as she slowly loosened the pins from her hair. Once she shook it loose, she carefully combed it, then braided the mass into one thick braid. Though it had been nearly a week since Ma’Kentu left her, she still wanted to keep herself attractive. Yes, she missed him and every time she thought about him, her heart warmed up inside. It was as if he had never left her side. It helped that he called every day, sometimes twice in one day.

  Rising up, she reached over the counter and turned on the television. She was barely into her show when the doorbell rang. Walking over to the door, she peered through the peephole to see who it might be. It was a short UPS deliveryman, ho
lding a fairly large box in his grip. It must be a gift from Ma’Kentu, she reasoned. Opening the door, she accepted the delivery, signed for it, and took the package inside.

  Plopping nervously down on the living room sofa, she reached over and grabbed a pair of scissors and opened her package. She was right! It was from her sweetheart. Opening the card she read it, perhaps three times over, with a bright smile on her face. Then, rather anxiously, she opened the three beautifully gift-wrapped boxes inside. Holding the dress up for inspection, she beamed. She loved it! It was just so her. But when she opened the two remaining boxes, which contained the sexy lingerie, she paused, as her face grew sullen. Ma’Kentu had no way of knowing that she did not do the sexy lingerie thang. A modest teddy, occasionally, but never naughty lingerie, especially crotchless panties, G-strings and the sort. Too raunchy, she felt. Only whores and women of loose character wore such sinful items.

  Setting the items down, she stared out into the room, thoughtfully, unsure how was she going to handle this. Surely, he would expect her to be wearing these items for him upon his return. To complicate matters, she had not told him of her position on this subject. Not that it was a subject readily discussed. Crushed, she put the items away. What a disappointment she was going to be to him, she told herself, over and over. And the more she thought this over, the more she realized there was no way she was going to satisfy both Ma’Kentu, and herself, on this matter, and still maintain her value system. Damn! She thought. Why did he have to be into sexy lingerie? Furthermore, why was he into it in the first place, she pondered?

  Margo woke up with a fierce headache the next morning. One that pulsated in waves, becoming more pronounced whenever she moved about. A moment later, she decided to pop two aspirins and hop into a tub of bath water. Somewhere she had read that sitting in a tub of water, as hot as one could tolerate, would cause a migraine to dissipate. Something about the blood being drawn from the head to the toes from the hot water. Right now she was willing to try anything. Besides, this procedure sounded as practical as anything she had heard before or since. And it didn’t cost her anything.

  As she relaxed in the calming waters of her wide tub, she wondered about the women in Ma’Kentu’s past. Just who were they? Were they the dark seedy types? Or high society types? Perhaps they had been a combination of the two. Suddenly, her thoughts came to an abrupt end. What was she thinking, she admonished herself? He just probably enjoyed looking at beautiful women who wear lingerie. Most men probably do, she had to believe. Though she still carried her concerns with her when she exited the tub, at least she left the migraine behind. The procedure apparently worked.

  The band had just finished laying down the sound track to the Faith Evans tune when Ma’Kentu decided to call it a day. Nine hours was more than an honest day’s work. All in all, it had been a productive day at the studio. The group had completed two additional songs for their upcoming CD and had begun laying the tracks for another three tunes. The past week in the studio had been a success so far. With two days remaining before his return trip to Florida, Ma’Kentu was hoping to complete at least one more song before closing shop.

  Later, at a nearby eatery, Al and Ma’Kentu sat down for a quick bite to eat and small talk. The topic was about Margo and Ma’Kentu’s upcoming Florida visit.

  “I know you’re looking forward to returning to Florida, Bassman.”

  “I tell you, tomorrow cannot come quick enough for me,” he beamed. “I’m really excited, Al.”

  “I’m sure Margo’s just as excited,” Al said, taking a sip of his soda.

  “I hope so. In our recent phone conversations, her tone and conversation seem be lacking something. I can’t quite put my fingers on it, though.”

  “You’re saying you’re detecting subtle differences?”

  “Ever since our last phone conversation.”

  “She’s probably so full of excitement and anticipation about seeing you again that she is just a little off keel in some of her responses to it.”

  Hearing this, Ma’Kentu seemed prepared to brush it off, based on Al’s spin that this was nothing more than ‘new love’ jitters. Besides, Al was usually right about such matters.

  After lunch, the two briefly discussed Ma’Kentu’s side trip to Washington, DC where he had agreed to take a DNA test to determine whether or not he was, indeed, the biological father of Charlotte’s child. It was something he wanted to get behind him. It was something he’d wish would go away.

  The warmth of spring was evident in the budding blossoms of DC’s Japanese Cherry trees and the numerous azaleas lining the historical and residential areas of the district. It had been a while since Ma’Kentu had frequented this particular area. All the same, he enjoyed riding through the streets of Washington, which was unique in its role as the seat of government.

  When he arrived at the local Child Support Enforcement agency, he filled out and signed the necessary forms. Afterwards, he flagged down a cab and was off to a local lab to give a DNA sample.

  Later that evening he left his hotel room to venture out for supper, broiled seafood perhaps, and to a visit a quiet club to have a quiet drink. In the process he just might get to hear some good ole urban jazz, he thought. If unable to find such a jazzy spot, he was prepared for some good ole contemporary jazz funk, the likes of Roy Ayers, Donald Bryd and the Blackbryds, or calypso sensation, Ralph McDonald. Fortunately, he was in walking distance of the restaurant and the entertainment district.

  Several blocks later, he happened upon an upscale seafood restaurant and entered. After a long wait, he finally got to enjoy that broiled seafood platter, one of those all-you-can-eat, one night only sort of deals.

  Nearly bloated, he headed back in the direction of the hotel, and came upon an old and familiar neighborhood tavern. It was one of those red brick built family-run establishments that had been in the neighborhood for at least three generations. It was club Cool Blue Jazz, the very club he had met Charlotte in a year earlier. It was a club that had apparently survived by changing with the times. Entering, his ears were greeted with the lively blue-eye soul music of Steely Dan. The song…Peg, was a funky, upbeat tune by the notable duo. Taking a seat at the bar, he ordered a rum and coke, over crushed ice. As he waited, he nibbled on some chips and showed a vague interest in a collegian basketball game being broadcast over the big screen monitor. The teams: Georgetown vs. Temple University.

  Three songs, and two drinks later, he decided it was time to call it a night. He had a flight to catch in the morning to Florida. Slightly tired, he wanted to rest up for the trip. Dropping a five on the countertop, for the young waitress who had cheerfully served him, he turned and walked away.

  Not far away, a shadowy figure watched him closely, quietly. It would not be too smart to approach him too fast, she realized. She knew she had a way of setting him off. But he was about to leave. Now what? She pondered. After some thought, the shadowy figure decided to wait until he was close to the door before she would move out of the shadows and approach him.

  Making his way through a crowded pool table area, Ma’Kentu opened the wide wooden door and exited into the starry night. But before the door could close behind him, he felt a light tap on his shoulder. Turning, he was surprised to see that it was her…Charlotte! Immediately, his teeth clenched. “Damn Charlotte, this is beyond ridiculous! What the hell are you doing here?”

  On the defensive, she replied, her face illuminated by the moon. “Look, I didn’t follow you here. So calm down! I frequent this club often. Matter-of-fact, this is where we met, I’m sure you remember. Frankly, I’m surprise to find you here. I actually thought you had taken up residency in Florida, by now, with your cutie journalist girlfriend.”

  Ma’Kentu stared at her. Same Charlotte. Same sharp tongue. Holding a short fur jacket in her hand, she was dressed in a skintight purple silver-beaded, one-armed pantsuit. Though African-American, she was a dead ringer for the lovely Cuban model Vida Guerra. Even the makeup she wore was
cover-girl perfect. And though she was known for her fluent usage of an adjective or two, tonight she spoke without her usual off-color superlatives. At least, she had refrained from calling Margo the B word.

  Deciding to give her the benefit of the doubt, he calmed down. But he would keep his guard up, just in case. One could never tell what Charlotte had up her sleeves. “Let’s look at it this way Charlotte, somehow we just happened to be in the same place at the same time, and by chance. We smile, greet one another, and go our own way. There you have it. End of story, end of conversation. Now, if you don’t mind, I have to go.” Turning, he began to walk away.

  Throwing on her jacket, she caught up to him. “Listen, where’re you going?”

  With deceptive calm, and without looking her way, he snapped, “What’s it to you, Charlotte?”

  “Was just wondering, that’s all,” she answered, quickening her pace to keep up with his.

  At one point he stopped in midstride, and when he did, she found herself being spun around. “What is it with you? What do you want?” he bellowed, leaning towards her, his eyes cold. “I’m waiting.”

  “I just want you to see your daughter. That’s all,” she said, as she ran her right hand nervously up and down her left arm. “Just one time, man.”

  Stunned, he paused and stared at her. As poignant a moment as this could be, he experienced a gamut of perplexing emotions. What if he was the father? He thought. Not once had he ever considered seeing Charlotte’s child. The thought never crossed his mind. But something in her words, the ‘your daughter’ part, caused him to rethink this whole matter on a more personal level.

  Averting his uneasy eyes, he slowly followed with his body. Unfazed, Charlotte shadowed him until they were face-to-face again. “Look,” she said, after inhaling deeply, “It won’t hurt you to see her just once. Now will it?”