When I walked through the door after my difficult workday, I said, “Hi, honey.”
You know what that brother said? Nothing, zilch, nada. That’s right; brother man sat in that chair and didn’t bat an eyelash, just kept watching television like I was a ghost. I looked at his ass, and said, “Did you hear me speak? I’ll be damned if I’m ignored in my own home. You know, there is no way I’m going to take shit at work and then walk into my home and be disrespected. What does it hurt to say hi?”
I wasn’t trying to interrupt his time. I know how important it is to have quiet time. All I wanted was for us to acknowledge each other after we both had had long days at our jobs.
I said, “did you hear me speak?”
He just sat there for a second, and then nodded his head. You know, like they do in the South when they greet someone. So I walked up to him and slapped him across the back of his head, which was what I really wanted to do to Sarah. He looked stunned.
Finally, he said, “It looks as if someone had a bad day, but don’t bring that stuff here.”
Hunching my shoulders and walking by him to head up to the second floor, I turned to look at him. “You know you want this ass, I saw you staring at it.”
“You need to get ready to cook.”
“Well, you might as well get it started because I need about thirty minutes to myself.”
“I’ll wait then.”
That’s how our evening started. Since he couldn’t recognize me for the fine, intelligent woman I was, I walked right up the staircase and changed clothes. I lay across the bed and thought about nothing. I awoke two hours later. He had cooked dinner and was watching the news. As soon as I walked into the room, he wanted to talk to me. That really pissed me off, but I decided to let it ride.
So you know what I did? The same thing he did to me, day after day: I ignored his ass. He was running his mouth, telling me about something on his job and I acted like a ghost—invisible. See, I didn’t appreciate that shit, having a man who wanted to talk only when he felt like it. That shit didn’t work here, not with this chick.
He was just running off at the mouth. It was easy to ignore him, and then he suddenly started asking me questions. That pissed the shit out of me. I turned to face him in slow motion like I was that girl Linda Blair’s character, in The Exorcist, and sounding as if I was talking in double words. I said, “Are you talking to me, motherfucker?”
I don’t know what came over me. Maybe Sarah really had gotten my goat at work or maybe hearing my husband act like we were having this great conversation was too much for me.
“I wish the people at church could see you now,” he said. “You curse too damn much.”
“I curse because of you. I don’t curse at work or anywhere else. I only curse at you. You know why? You piss me off when I try to talk to you. You don’t want to be bothered, but when you want to talk, I’m supposed to become Chatty Cathy. I’m not a robot, I can’t turn from steel to soft like you.”
He had the gall to tell me, “I’m the king and this is my castle.”
I looked at that fool like he was crazy. I walked my ass right in front of him, making sure he got a look at my jiggly butt as I made my way into the kitchen. He got up and followed me, only stopping briefly to wash his hands as he passed the bathroom. When he entered the kitchen I heard him pull out the kitchen chair and sit down. I grabbed my plate and quickly exited the kitchen. I was too hungry to throw my plate at him and too angry to sit at the table with him, so I booked.
That night, when brother came to bed, I was waiting. I had lain in the bed ten minutes, thinking about that fine Travis Ingram. I was all ready to get laid.
He entered the bed naked as that statue in Forest Park. I pretended to be asleep, but when brother man slipped his arm around my waist and kissed my neck, and I felt that warm heat from his body mingle with my cold attitude, sparks began to fly all over that bed.
He entered me from the back, lifted my leg up, held it in midair, and put all his ten inches in me. At least that’s the way it felt. I had never measured it with a ruler, but brother was packing. He put those slow, intense moves on me and all I could think was, Work it, Travis. Work all that dick in me. I was too angry to let him fuck me, so I imagined it was Travis. That shit felt so good. He was stroking and gently massaging my body in all the right places. I was so turned on I could feel my orgasm starting at my feet and moving slowly up my body. I was trying hard not to scream out Travis’s name, but I was shouting in my head, “Oh, Travis! Oh, Travis!” Then I saw stars, and red and blue streaks, and my heart was beating fast and furious as if I were about to have a heart attack. But this one wasn’t going to kill me. Then I felt his dick grow harder and he started pumping deep and fast. Then he exploded. That even felt good. See, I loved it when he came, because that quick exertion of energy flowing through him to me was like a burst of energy in my pussy.
Yes, I could always have an intense orgasm, because no matter how angry I got, I was still getting mine.
Chapter 3
The Green-Eyed Monster Reappears
Tuesday morning when I walked into the office, I could’ve sworn I saw Sarah roll her eyes at me. I figured she knew I’d gotten some last night. It was the way she kept looking at me sideways, like she was sneaking a glance. She really made me feel uncomfortable. There was something so sinister about her. I just couldn’t understand why this young lady hated me so. After all, I gave her a job when she couldn’t find anything else. She lacked skills and education, and I gave her a chance. Now, she was mad because even though we were about the same age, I had two degrees and many years of experience. She should have seen me as a role model, not as someone she wanted to kick into a roll.
I walked up to Sarah. “Did you finish the statistical report on the children in childcare?”
“I don’t recall you asking me for a report, Malika. If you had you know I would have completed it.”
“No, I specifically asked you for the report when you were meeting with your supervisor.” Picking up the phone on Sarah’s desk, I called her supervisor and requested her to come to Sarah’s area. Jennifer trotted to the office.
“Jennifer, when you and Sarah were meeting yesterday, I came in and asked for what?”
“You asked Sarah to give you a statistical report on childcare and she said she would have it ready by 8:00 A.M. She also asked if you wanted the report in Microsoft Access or Excel.”
Sarah quickly jumped in. “I’m sorry, Malika, now I do recall that conversation. I don’t know how I forgot that.”
I glared at Sarah. “I need that report in one hour.” I turned and hastily walked back to my office.
I was working in my office when I heard Felicia speak to someone. Apparently, someone knocked at the door and she opened it. It was Travis. He was there to install a new network virus program. He was working on the network when I looked up and saw that he was smiling at me. I waved and continued my work.
“Excuse me, Malika, can I speak with you?” asked Bridgett, the health instructor. “Do you know who I can refer this young lady to for some resources? I met her while doing a presentation. She is about to get evicted and she has two children.”
“Why is she being evicted?” I asked. “Did she lose a job and could no longer afford her rent? Is she on drugs? What exactly is her situation?”
“She is a former crack user. She has gotten her life together, but apparently, because she used so many people and told so many lies, no one trusts her. Her landlord said he wanted her out. He lost too much money messing with her.”
“You can refer her to the House of Shelter. They will evaluate her situation and assist her.” I jotted the number down and handed it to her. “Ask for Barbara Meyers.”
“Thanks so much.”
As Bridgett exited my office, Travis walked in.
“How are you today?” he asked.
“I’m fine. What about you?” I walked from behind my desk and stood directly in front of
him. He looked down into my cleavage area. I smiled, knowing I had received the reaction I wanted.
“Everything is cool. I’m going to come back tomorrow, because I need to divide your hard drive. Because of the amount of data your staff enters, we need to separate your hard drive into four areas.”
“What will that do?” I asked.
“For one thing, it will save space on your C drive, which you could use for other data.”
“Is this going to cost me anything?”
“Only your time. Will you be here tomorrow?”
“Yes.”
“Well, I’ll come back tomorrow.”
I sat down on my desk, directly in front of him. I crossed my legs so that he could view my well-toned thighs. Looking down, he suddenly moved backward with his eyes pointing directly at my thighs. That quick movement caused a tingle to resonate in my vaginal area. I squeezed my thighs together. He reached down, grabbed his crotch, and jerked his hand off as if he realized what he’d just done.
As Travis was talking, I found myself staring at his lips. They looked so soft and smooth. I wanted to feel them. Slowly, I slid my tongue from one side of my mouth to the other. What in the hell was wrong with me? Just last week I was minding my own fucking business. I wasn’t thinking about anything but doing a good job. I didn’t have my eyes on anyone. I was just doing what I always did, which was work hard and train my staff to do the same. Here this “ powerful” man came and within a split second, my desires changed. Why now? Why him? I didn’t know, but I had to get myself together.
Travis was smiling at me like I was taking a picture of him in a studio. Well, hell, I was not a photographer, so what was he smiling at me for? Maybe he could somehow tell I found him attractive. He licked his lips, leaving a trail of moisture as if he was returning the sentiment. Maybe he knew I fucked the shit out of him last night. Could he feel me fucking him?
“Malika, have you had lunch?” he inquired.
“No.”
“Come on and let me take you to my favorite restaurant.” He reached out and pulled me off the desk and with the quick movement my breasts disappeared into his chest. He grabbed me in a hug. “Are you okay?”
“Yes,” I said, pulling out of his embrace. I looked at that man. Lord, what was he trying to do to me? Was this a friendly lunch or was he making a move on me? Hell, I had been married so long that I didn’t know if a man was interested in me as a beautiful, sexy woman or if he was just trying to be friendly. Maybe he was trying to butter me up, so he could increase his contract on me. I hoped he didn’t think I was stupid. I would leave this job before I did anything illegal or inappropriate. When it came to honesty, that was me; I didn’t steal. It wasn’t me. I was what some called the real deal. I would tell you what I meant without biting my tongue. I hoped this lunch date was platonic. Nah, I needed to stop lying. I wanted that boy and I wanted him to want me.
You know life is funny because of the way things happen. I was the oldest girl out of three children. I had one brother who was twenty-eight and a sister who happened to be only one year younger than I was. I had always been the leader of the pack. Not only was I a thinker, but I was also a doer. Whenever I put my mind to something, I could get it done. I never panicked. Nothing scared me, except dying violently.
I know you may be thinking that it is odd to be worrying about dying violently, but that was me. I feared knives, cars, and airplanes. I saw those three ways of dying to be awfully painful. I couldn’t imagine anyone cutting me slowly as if I were a piece of meat. A girl I once knew was jumped by seven female gang members. They stabbed her and left her in the hot sun to bleed to death. I became violently ill, imagining how I would have felt if that had been me.
Cars frightened me because of the noise they made and the fact that they were made out of hard steel. I couldn’t stand the sound of cars smashing against each other. I feared being trapped in a car and it catching on fire or submerging in water. I always kept scissors in my car to cut the seatbelt off me should it lock. I had something to break the car window should the car careen into the river. This would help me to safely get out of the car. At least, that was what I hoped it would do.
I was terrified of flying. I had this belief that if something happened while the plane was in the air, there was nothing I could do but die. In a plane, you lose your control. You can’t use a parachute because you are too high. You can’t jump out because you would die from a lack of oxygen. You can’t help yourself. You’d only have prayer, but I couldn’t imagine seeing and knowing that I was going to die. I would be absolutely terrified. Those were my quirks. I was a control freak. I enjoyed directing my path and my life.
I had a lot of associates and my two best friends had been in my life forever. Pamela and I had been friends since we were eleven years old, almost thirty years now. Zandra and I had been friends for fifteen years. Whenever I needed my buddies, they were there for me. Likewise, I would do whatever I could to help both of them. But my family, on the other hand, was my burden.
My sister, Karen, was a beauty queen. She worried about nothing except how she looked. I couldn’t reason with her about anything. Her best friend was a mirror. She didn’t want girlfriends. She felt that they slowed her down with jealousy and backstabbing. Maybe she was right about that, but I had always told her that good friends were like wine: the longer you had them, the better they’d become. “You have to nurture friends,” I told her. She thought I was silly.
Although I had two degrees and had been considering going back for my PhD in management, Karen thought I was an educated fool. She went to secretarial school and met her rich husband when she was sent out on a job referral. She married Tim Duncan and he let her get away with murder. But I still loved her, even though I couldn’t stay in the same room with her for more than an hour without arguing with her.
My brother, Kurt, was a true fool. He couldn’t hold a job because he was a mama’s boy. My parents taught their daughters to wash, clean, and cook, and pressured us to seek higher education. They didn’t do shit with Kurt. He had a ten-year-old daughter named Olivia who he did nothing for, so we all pitched in to buy clothes for her and pay for her school activities. He was twenty-eight and had never worked a job, but he drove a late-model car and kept money in his pocket. He gossiped like a bitch and spread lies to anyone who would listen. He thought that was the way to get people in his pocket. He was even known to tell folks’ spouses that they were having an affair. This boy was beyond trifling. Every time I saw him, he asked me for a dollar. Whenever I told him I didn’t have any money, he tried to make me feel bad. Plus, he couldn’t even pronounce the word “dollar.” He called it “dolla’.” He was just too cool. But if everyone he met gave him one dollar, he could become wealthy.
He made sure he mingled with people because that was how he got his information to gossip. I loved him, but I hated him, too. I wanted him to try to be something and to stop worrying my parents, but when you had never been taught to survive legally, you would do whatever you had to do to survive. So if you wanted to stay married, you had to stay away from my brother. Plus, we knew that he was using drugs. He was spending a lot of money and rumor had it that he was stealing things from my mother.
Why am I telling you about my background? You need to know this because as you read about my experiences, you may think I didn’t have any morals. But I did! I was raised in a two-parent home, which was a feat in itself. My parents had good jobs and were excellent providers for their children. We didn’t want for anything. Whatever I wanted, I got.
That was until I met Travis. He was the one thing I wanted that I hadn’t been able to get. The more I realized I couldn’t have him, the more I wanted him. The more I realized all he wanted was a friend, the more vivid my dreams became. Or shall I say, my wet dreams? Plus, his actions were confusing me. One minute he was touching me and romancing me with his eyes dancing at me. The next minute he was all business. I was confused enough about my own life and marriage
, so I didn’t need anyone else to confuse me more.
The best thing about my life was that my parents were great communicators. We could discuss anything—sex, politics, and life—and our parents would sit there, listen, and talk to us. So that was probably how I ended up in the helping relations field. I loved to talk and share my experiences.
See, I, Malika Williamson, really believed that adage, “Each one, teach one.” If I knew something that could enhance someone else’s life, I was going to share it. You could do two things with the information I was sharing. You could use it or lose it. That was right. Take what I had learned and save yourself some pain or file it away until later and use it when you really needed it. Otherwise, what were you going to lose by listening?
Even though I had never had an affair or slept with any man other than my husband, my knowledge in the sex department was extensive because of the information I had learned from clients who had come through the agency. No, I didn’t do these things in the bed with my husband; they happened in my imagination. There was only one man who I had ever wanted to have sex with other than my boo, but he was only trying to be a friend.
When Travis and I arrived at the Lemp Mansion restaurant, which was located on the south side, I was impressed. I had never been to this restaurant theatre nor even knew of its existence. I opened the door to get out of the car, but Travis rushed around and held the door open. He reached for my hand and helped me out of the car. We walked into the restaurant, and with his hand on my back he guided me to the table, where he pulled out my seat and waited for me to sit down. How many men do you know who still do shit like that? Not many! You can count them on one hand. Whenever supply was more than demand, the value dropped and that was how I saw this man/woman issue.
Men think they don’t have to do much to keep you, because they can find any woman to do what they want as quickly as you can say no. So they treat us any way they want, because they know we are going to allow them to get away with it. That is until a woman has had enough. Have you ever been around a woman who is fed up? Mark my words, you don’t want to be. Remember what I said about knives and how I feared them; well, try dogging me out and watch what’ll happen when I’m thoroughly pissed off.
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