Tears on a Sunday Afternoon

by Michael Presley

  “I see someone over there that I need to speak with,” I said, turning around in a bid to make my exit.

  “Donald, have you met Peter and his wife, Kathleen?”

  I tried my best to hold on to the apple martini, even though I wanted to ball my hand up into a fist. I had only met Peter once as he was leaving the office. He was a much taller man than I remembered.

  He stared at me strangely. “You look familiar.”

  Malcolm chuckled. “He should, Peter. Donald was one of the main engineers who redesigned your building.”

  I stretched my hand out to shake Peter’s and Kathleen’s hands. “Nice to meet both of you.”

  The smile etched on Kathleen’s face did not change; she appeared neither nervous nor uncomfortable. She was so at peace in the arms of her husband. They were indeed a wonderful couple. They reminded me of so many of those pay-per-view movies with the strikingly handsome white man and the extremely beautiful woman getting together after going through some terrible times. They didn’t merely get together; they were born to be together.

  “I have to pay more attention to the people who come and work in my building,” Peter said.

  “Don’t worry about that, Peter. The security system we’ve installed would need the CIA and the FBI combined to take it down,” Malcolm boasted.

  “And we all know that that’ll never happen,” Peter added.

  I laughed at their dry humor. “Sorry, someone is waiting over there for me. It was a pleasure meeting both of you.”

  I walked over to the bar and started a conversation with a man that I had never seen before. He was an associate of one of Malcolm’s business partners. His specialty was foreign imports. After conversing on our employment, he left because he saw someone that he recognized.

  I motioned to the bartender. “Let me have some Grey on the rocks.”

  “Coming right up.” He turned to prepare the drink.

  “Can I have a Socialite?” my wife, who had walked up to the bar, said to the bartender once he returned with my drink.

  “One Socialite coming up,” the bartender said.

  I glanced at Lauren, then got back to my drink.

  “My father said we have to mingle together,” Lauren said as the bartender sat her drink in front of her.

  “We do?” I emptied the drink in my mouth and motioned for the bartender to refill.

  My wife followed suit with her drink.

  The bartender looked at both of us and went to refill our glasses. We had two more refills before my wife slid her hand in mine and we headed back out to mingle. It was going to be a long night. It was painful enough driving there with her, but the return trip was destined to be even worse.

  Later on that evening, we joined Dora and Malcolm and took a picture as one happy family. Time and faith prevented me from throwing up. My stomach rattled like a pinball machine as the picture was being snapped. My only recourse for the evening was knowing that, soon, I would be able to tell all of them to kiss my black ass.

  “Bye, Mom.” Lauren waved to Dora before getting into my car.

  I nodded my head to Malcolm and Dora and reversed out of the driveway.

  “You have to give me another child. My mother insists that we should try for a girl. They’re so in love with Emerald,” Lauren said, leaning back into the car seat.

  If looks could kill, there would have been one dead lesbian in the passenger seat next to me. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

  “Donald, why are you acting so surprised?” Lauren asked.

  “Because, Motherfucking Bitch, you are crazy. I’m not having any more kids with you. I’d rather go and have my shit surgically removed right this second.” I dreaded the thought of such extreme but possibly necessary measures.

  “Mom wants us to try for a girl and you know Daddy won’t stop until we do it. He said he’ll talk to you and I know what that means.” Lauren looked away. “Donald, I don’t hate you like you do me. With all your faults, you’re still a good father to Emerald. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

  The bitch actually seemed genuine when she said that. “Well, Malcolm’s going to have to kill me because there’s no way in hell I’m gonna touch your ass.”

  “Donald, do you actually think I’m looking forward to having sex with you? I’d rather swallow a bucket of raw fish gills. Believe me, I’ll have to be under the influence, of something, when we do it.”

  “Don’t worry about that, Lauren. We’re not going to be doing anything; except I’m going to keep fucking whomever I want while you’re eating Annette’s pussy. That’s all we’re gonna be doing. Get that through your cobwebbed head.”

  The alcohol in my head made me step on the gas much harder than needed. The tires screeched as I took the corners.

  “Donald, why don’t you get it through your head? You’ve been bought. My father owns every piece of you. He has your balls in a vise grip and, when he squeezes it, he determines how high you jump. Do you honestly think he’s going to take no for an answer? My mother wants a granddaughter and she’s going to get a granddaughter. I don’t like it, but I’ve accepted it. Don’t act like you’re fighting for some kind of rights; you have none. So, take whatever drug you have to and let’s make this child.”

  Every pole that I passed looked like a good way to end it; both of us wrapped around a fucking pole in Brooklyn. Alcohol would’ve been the main culprit. The only thing stopping me from doing that was Emerald. I lived for him. In thirteen days, I’d prance up to Malcolm and tell him to go fuck himself. Money bought power and only power would set me free.

  “You think I’m your father’s puppet? My grandmother always told me that every dog has his day and even the biggest dog would one day go down with a whimper. I’m going to repeat myself one last time. I’m not having another child with a lesbian bitch. I don’t care if your father’s God, it’s not happening.”

  I pulled the car up into the driveway. The lights in the master bedroom immediately came on.

  “Well, I tried to make it easy on you,” Lauren said, getting out of the car. “But your dumb, motherfucking ass won’t listen. I’m not going to let our son see you all fucked up, so we’ll be traveling soon.”

  “You’re not taking my son any fucking where!” I shouted. “Now go upstairs and let she-man beat the shit out of you.”

  For a minute, Lauren looked like she wanted to cry as she turned and walked slowly into the house. She realized that I was right. Annette always started an argument with her whenever we went to a function. An argument that usually ended with Lauren getting her ass whipped.

  Emerald was fast asleep and I wasn’t in the mood to listen to two bitches that night. I put the car in reverse and backed out of the driveway. I maneuvered through my phone book for Brenda’s number and dialed.

  “Hello, Brenda,” I said as I turned onto the main road.

  “What time is it?” she asked.

  “One-thirty.”

  I pictured Brenda wiping her eyes and sitting up on the bed. “What do you want?”

  “It’s one-thirty,” I repeated.

  “You’re a smart one, aren’t you?” She paused. Then she spoke her address slowly and repeated it. “Call me when you’re outside the building. I’m going to come down. We can go by the South Street Seaport.”

  There was a rustling noise in the background as I imagined her getting ready.

  I had no desire to drive all night. “But it’s closed.”

  “Exactly,” she said; a mischievous edge in her voice.

  “I’m not going to have a child with you,” I said, losing my reality for a minute.

  “What?!” Brenda exclaimed.

  “Nothing. I’ll be there in forty.” I pressed the end button. I needed rest, but first I wanted pussy.

  I called Brenda from outside the apartment and waited for her to come down. I was the focus of the doorman’s attention as I stood leaning against the Mercedes Benz S500. If I had been a betting man, I�
�d have predicted that he would’ve called the police when I pulled up at that time of the morning if I had come there in anything less than a Benz.

  Brenda sashayed out of the apartment lobby dressed in a short denim outfit. While the skirt did nothing to highlight her beautiful ass, the shortness showed off her beautiful long legs. I held the car door and watched her get in. As she sat down, the skirt rose even higher up her thighs. I looked back at the doorman and winked. He scowled at me. I wasn’t mad at him. While he was slightly older than me, I’m sure he had constant wet dreams about Brenda. There he was, opening the door for her as she came in and out of the building, smelling whiffs of her perfume and taking in the beauty of her youth and the elegance of her style. In his mind, he might have dreamed about her surrendering herself to him on the carpet in front of the building. Him delving into the lushness of her garden, shredding her skirt and taking her places only his mind could imagine. No, but that was not to be the case. Instead, he had to open the door for her to run into my arms, for me to take her places only his mind could dream of. Yes, and when I brought her back, he would be waiting there to open the door to let her in and wait again for someone like me to take her away again.

  “So, what made you decide to call me?” she asked, lifting up her bare feet to lay them on the dashboard.

  “Your smile,” I said, looking down at her legs.

  “You’re funny.” She giggled. “You’re as interested in my smile as our president is interested in democracy in Iraq.”

  I was trying hard to find a blemish on her beautiful legs but to no avail. Her legs were also lean and firm, the markings of a runner. “How many miles do you run?”

  She looked at me. “Very observant. I run four times a week, about five miles every time. Are you concerned?”

  “Concerned about what?”

  “That you wouldn’t be able to keep up,” she said with that mischievous smile that nearly made me want to let go of the steering wheel and leap into her arms. Yes, even though this young woman was twenty-one, she had definitely taken Seduction 101 and maybe 202.

  “I see that a nice ass is not good enough for you,” I said, knowing that she would know exactly what I’m talking about.

  “A nice ass. Please, look around. Most black women and Spanish women have nice asses; even white women are coming up in that department. A nice ass might get a guy to fuck you a few times, but if that’s all you’ve got, he ain’t gonna come back.” Her chemically whitened teeth glistened invitingly. “We sisters can’t depend on our pussy to get a man. There are too many out there with that same thing. You’re a beautiful man. What does it take for you to make a second call?”

  “You’re putting me on the spot here, aren’t you?” I asked, parking my car across the street from the South Street Seaport. The place was deserted, as expected. I came out the car and waited for Brenda to get out. She got out and crossed to the driver’s side. She slipped her hand into the crook of my arm and we started to walk across to the seaport.

  “So, are you going to answer me?”

  The gentle breeze bathed me with the exquisite scent of her perfume.

  “Right now, what I look for in a woman is peace of mind. I don’t want to argue and I don’t want to fight. Looks are important but, as you said before, it’s not everything. I want sexiness, but intelligence also. I want strength but humbleness.”

  The sound of her shoes hitting the pavement was like a time clock going on and on. We walked past the restaurant and ducked in a corner as we saw a guard passing on the other side. Her breasts rubbed against my chest; rushing even more blood into my already engorged penis. Even though the guard had long been gone, we stood in the corner, our bodies pressed hard against each other. I reached out and slowly removed her jacket. As I let her jacket fall to the ground, I reached down to part her quivering lips with my tongue. As they opened up, I sucked on them ever so gently, feeling her nipples hardening against my chest. She invited my tongue into her mouth and made a sensuous dance with it. I gazed into her eyes and her lust for me was never-ending. I kissed her forehead and traced her face with soft, fluttering kisses, eventually returning to the softness of her mouth. I released her lips momentarily as I unbuttoned her white blouse.

  “You’re incredible,” she whispered, running her hands all over my chest.

  When the last button of her blouse was undone, I continued my kisses down her neck and to the life sustenance of her future children. I kissed around her firm breasts, tracing my tongue around each nipple until finally taking one into my mouth.

  She moaned and held my head between her hands, running her hands roughly over my head, bringing an even more aroused state to my manhood. I resisted the temptation of lifting her up and impaling her against the wall with my penis. Instead, I continued to outline her body with the flicker of my tongue as I went downward to her womanhood. Her hands twisted and turned my head around; her fingernails gently ran along my neck. Maybe the events of the day or the events of the past few weeks resonated throughout my body, but I needed that woman. I needed to feel, to taste, to absorb and to breathe her into me. I lifted her skirt and hugged her around the butt; enjoying the fragrance of her womanhood as I slowly pulled her black g-string off. The firmness of her ass and thighs made my tongue follow my nostrils to her shaved vagina. I was breaking my rules and I didn’t care. My tongue lashed out between the insides of her thighs as she parted her legs to give me total access. My tongue played between them until she screamed.

  “Please eat me.”

  I brought my hands to rest my palms on the folds of her labia. I parted her as her wetness glistened in front of me. It had been years since I had even entertained the thought of putting my tongue on a woman’s vagina. Yet, as Brenda’s vagina lay before me, I wanted to send my tongue into the depths of her womanhood.

  “Please, Donald,” she begged.

  Once more my tongue lashed out as if being sprung by a spring connecting to her labia and the folds of her vagina. As Brenda squirmed, I feasted on her as if the end of the daylight would be lost to the night forever. Her body started to shake as she took my head and buried it in her vagina. My tongue reached into the origins of her secretion. I had run the New York Marathon and now the liquid of life bathed me. Her body shook while I continued to lick her juices as she bent and squatted obscenely over my face. I was a picture of the birth of man. I continued to lick her, sending my tongue in and out of her until the weakness came back in her legs and once more shook her body. This time, she held onto my head for dear life as her juices saturated my quenchless mouth. When I was about to come up, she started to go down, but I stopped her and kissed her as she hungrily feasted on her own juices. I took out the condom that I had in my pocket and slipped it onto my penis. As I rose, I slipped my hands below her thighs, entering her when I was totally vertical. For the third time, her body started to shake as I continued to unleash my demons. I went hard and fast and, in the space of two minutes, I exploded in her as she barely hung onto my shoulders. It took all my reserved strength to slowly put her back down on her feet. She was spent and slowly slid down to sit on her jacket.

  “I have never…” She started to talk, but I rested one of my fingers on her lips as I sat down next to her. She turned and dropped her head in my lap.

  “Don’t say another word.” I wrapped my arms around the beautiful lady. I looked at her and I wanted to tell her that the time wasn’t right and what we had experienced was good, maybe even excellent, but tomorrow I would be gone. The war would never stop and the following day I would be somewhere fighting another battle. We had experienced something memorable and if time, the collector of memories, allowed us a moment to reflect, it would bring a smile to both our faces. If by chance, time allowed us to repeat the act, in another setting or under other circumstances, we would be truly blessed.

  Chapter 10

  11TH DAY

  I stopped my son in his tracks as he headed into the house. “Emerald, please take your b
ike.”

  I had removed his bike from the Hummer and placed it on the pavement for him after returning from a morning ride in Prospect Park. Emerald had recently learned to ride without training wheels. He jumped on the bike and quickly pedaled up to the garage. I pressed the remote to lift the garage door.

  “Why are you rushing, Emerald?”

  “Daddy, I need to use the bathroom,” he said before disappearing behind the entry door to the house from the garage.

  Emerald had eaten two burgers along with a hot dog and had guzzled down a Snapple apple juice at the park. I told him that he would need to use the bathroom soon, but he didn’t believe me. He had already gone once at the park. I hung my bike over Emerald’s and walked into the house. When I got inside, he was just coming out of the bathroom. “Daddy, why doesn’t Mommy go riding with us?”

  “Because she has other things to do, but I’m sure she’s taking you someplace this weekend.”

  “Yep, she’s taking me to The Brooklyn Aquarium. She said they got a new whale and it’s a white one.”

  “Wow, that’s going to be a lot of fun.”

  “But, Daddy, does Aunty Annette have to go with us?” he asked, a strained expression on his face.

  “I don’t know. Does she bother you?” My hatred for that bitch was all consuming, but I attempted to keep my voice calm.

  “No, she doesn’t but Mommy’s always in a rush when Aunty Annette comes with us.”

  “Well, I’ll talk to Mommy and ask her not to bring Aunty Annette. Okay?”

  “Okay, Daddy. I love you. I’m going upstairs to get the word game you promised to play with me.” He rose from the chair and put the plate and cup in the sink.

  I drank half of the water in the bottle. “Did you read your new book?”