Breaking the Ties That Bind

by Gwynne Forster

  “Sure was,” Bert Richards said. “It’s early for dinner, but I’ll drive you to a good takeout shop, and you can get what you want, bring it home, and eat it here when you get hungry.”

  She’d be satisfied with a sandwich and tea, but she knew he wouldn’t accept that, so she went with him, and he parked in front of Lena’s Gourmet Shop.

  “Papa, this place is too expensive.”

  “Child, I’ve tried to teach you that anything you put in your stomach should be the best quality. They get their beef from me.”

  She went home with a gourmet meal, but she’d never been lonelier or needed company more. She telephoned Flo, one of her three good friends.

  “Hi, Flo. Papa helped me pack, and then he took me over to Lena’s Gourmet Shop. This gourmet meal he bought me is more than enough for two. Want to come over?”

  “Where would we sit? Haven’t you packed?”

  “Sure I packed. Papa was helping me. We can sit on the sofa and eat, and I’ve got paper plates and cups and plastic utensils. Bring a sharp knife.”

  “See you in twenty minutes.”

  Twenty minutes later, the doorbell rang. “Hi. First time you’re late getting somewhere, I’ll expect Armageddon for sure. Come on in.”

  “Nothing gets on my nerves like a person who wastes other peoples’ time. You and your dad did all this today?”

  “Yes, and we finished before four o’clock.”

  Flo sat down and crossed her long legs. She had a good inch on Kendra’s five feet, eight inches, and she worked hard at maintaining her size ten, flat-belly figure. They spread out the food, and Flo reached for a crab cake and cut a thick slice of artisan-baked Italian whole wheat bread.

  Kendra eyed her friend. “You must be hungry. Better watch that bread.”

  Flo chewed the crab cake, looked toward the ceiling, and shook her head slowly. “This is heaven. And don’t you worry about my figure. When you’re asleep, I’m in the gym suffering. Lord, this stuff is good.” She served herself some roasted peppers and green bean salad. “No wonder you called me. You couldn’t eat all this in two days. I’d better be careful or Ernest won’t recognize me. He says I’m perfect.” She pushed some long strands away from her face.

  “Is he talking about making it permanent? It’s been going on for a year now, hasn’t it?”

  Flo sipped some ginger ale and leaned back. “Yeah, but for most of that year nothing much was happening, and I was about to give up on it. Half the time, I was so frustrated I wanted to throw things.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Look. Like I said, nothing was happening. I liked everything about him, Kendra, but the sex was awful and I didn’t have enough experience to fix it. About a month ago, I went to see a doctor. She said nothing was wrong with me, and that all we needed was technique. She made some suggestions, so I bit the bullet and told him that it wasn’t working and that if we couldn’t fix it, I was out of there. So we tackled it the way you’d go about solving any other problem. The formula that the doctor gave me took us right there as soon as we learned to use it. Oh, happy day!”

  “If I ever have that problem, I hope you’ll give me that formula.”

  Flo’s laugh was deep and throaty. “You bet I will. Every animal, wild or tame, is born knowing how to do it, but we humans have to learn. Just another one of nature’s lousy tricks. It’s good with us now, and if it continues this way, I may see if we can make it permanent. What about you, Kendra? I wish you’d get out of Ginny’s clutches, find a guy, and grab some happiness.”

  “Mama and I are nearing a parting of the ways, Flo. I understand her now, and I know what I mean to her. It hurts, but dissing your mother isn’t easy, no matter what she does. Mama’s like a leech.”

  “If you had a man you cared for, she’d be less important to you.”

  “This is true. You know, there’s a man who comes to lunch at the restaurant every Wednesday. He’s always alone, has a crab-cake sandwich, a green salad, and a glass of white wine. He’s elegant and good-looking, and I can feel his masculinity from a distance of twenty-five feet.”

  “Why don’t you try to meet him?”

  “Because he wouldn’t give me a second glance. That brother’s got CEO written all over him. I wish I had my degree in communications and the kind of job that goes with it.”

  “Don’t worry, you’ll get that degree. A person who wants something as badly as you want that degree is bound to succeed.”

  “Yeah. But I won’t get him.”

  Flo poured herself half a cup of coffee, drank it, and stood. “You never can tell. I gotta go, hon. Thanks for the goodies, and give my regards to your dad.”

  Kendra had to make herself go to bed. The next night, she’d be sleeping in a lovely two-bedroom apartment, with living room, dining room, kitchen, and one-and-a-half bathrooms, one block from Connecticut Avenue on Woodley Road. She longed to furnish it elegantly, but that had to wait till she finished school. She tossed in the bed until daylight, got up, and began counting the minutes until eight o’clock when the movers would arrive.

  That afternoon, with the move completed, and everything in place, she stood in the middle of her new living room, raised both arms, and laughed. Laughed until she felt like dancing; then danced to the point of exhaustion. She didn’t know when, if ever, she’d been so happy.

  Monday was her day off, and she headed down Connecticut Avenue to buy a few essentials for her new apartment. She didn’t own a bedspread, because her previous apartment hadn’t had a bed. But her father’s gift of a bedroom set had arrived that morning, and she wanted to dress up her new bedroom. She bought the spread and walked down near Calvert Street to her girlfriend Suzy’s dress shop.

  “Hey, girl. What’s up? You look as if you just won the lottery. Did you move?”

  Kendra hugged herself, twirled around, and spread her arms wide. “I am now residing on Woodley Road, friend. Ain’t that some stuff?”

  “It sure is.” Suzy walked over to a tall shelf, selected a silk scarf, and gave it to Kendra. “I don’t deal in home furnishings, so this is your housewarming present.”

  Kendra leaned down and clasped the petite woman in a hug. “Thank you. This is beautiful. I think I’ll treat myself to a nice dress to wear with it.” She selected a red, tissue-linen, knee-length sleeveless dress that flattered her tall, 36-28-40 figure.

  “It was designed for you. And you always look great in red. Be sure and let your hair down when you wear it,” Suzy said. “I wish I had your height.”

  “Don’t make jokes. Haven’t you noticed that these tall, handsome brothers love women like you? Count your blessings.” She paid for the dress.

  “Uh . . . Ginny was in this morning and bought the same dress, although it’s not for her. I tried dissuading her, but you know your mother. She said you’d pay for it when you came in.”

  “Really? I had no idea that she was coming here or that she was going to shop any other place.” She gave Suzy one hundred and seventy-eight dollars for her mother’s dress. “Don’t give her anymore credit. If you do, the loss is yours, Suzy.”

  “Gosh, I’m sorry, Kendra. I didn’t know she’d fabricate things.”

  “If only that was all. I’ll see you this weekend. How’s Kitten?”

  “Biggest heartache there ever was. Last night, Rick confessed to her that he’s gay. Didn’t we tell her that?”

  “I guess she’ll believe it now. I’ll call her. Bye.”

  Ginny opened the letter, extracted the money order for fifteen hundred dollars, threw the envelope into the waste basket, and headed for her computer. If she was in luck, Saks would have a sale on those five-inch-heel, red patent leather shoes. They’d be perfect for her red dress. They weren’t on sale, but seven hundred dollars for a pair of Jimmy Choo shoes was a bargain; she’d seen them for well over a thousand dollars. A phone call resulted in disappointment—the shoes were no longer available in her size. She pitched the phone across the room and stamp
ed her feet. If Kendra had given her the money when she first asked for it, she could have gotten those shoes. No, she wanted her mother to beg. Infuriated, Ginny dressed and phoned her friend Lucille.

  “Hi, Lucille. Let’s go to Bart’s for a couple of cocktails, and then find a good restaurant nearby.” She listened for a minute. “Never mind. It’s on me.”

  When she got home several hours later, her earlier anger resurfaced and, having no one at whom she could direct it, she went to bed. She’d spent a lot of money, and to what end? She had no choice but to work the next day. Phil wouldn’t tolerate an empty booth on Fridays when business was usually good. He got a percentage of what his operators earned.

  At work, she told each of her customers the woeful tale of her thankless and ungrateful daughter and, as she expected, each one sympathized with her. Her four-thirty appointment arrived a few minutes early and she was grateful for that, because it assured her that she’d be able to leave at six.

  “How’s it going, Mabel?” Ginny said when the woman sat in her chair for a manicure and pedicure. “You always come on time,” she added, without waiting for Mabel’s response. “I want you to know that I appreciate it. Some people don’t give a hoot about the way they treat other people. I asked my daughter for a loan of two thousand dollars, peanuts to her, and after equivocating and pussyfooting for days, she came up with fifteen hundred, and had the gall to ask what I did with the previous twenty-seven hundred she loaned me. She actually thinks her mother should pay her back.”

  “Where she work?” Mabel asked.

  “She’s a coatcheck girl in one of the most expensive restaurants in town. Nobody can tell me—”

  Mabel interrupted her. “She lend you that kind of money and she working for tips? I wish I had a daughter like her. Mine couldn’t lend nobody two dollars, much less two thousand. You blessed, and you oughta stop griping about her.”

  Ginny swallowed hard, controlling the urge to nip Mabel with the nail clippers. She pocketed the three dollar tip, but she didn’t thank the woman for it, and if Mabel knew she’d made her mad, Ginny didn’t care.

  Her next customer, a handsome twenty-year-old college student, arrived five minutes late, sat down, stretched out his long legs, and presented for her care the most beautiful hands she’d seen in a long while. He had the kind of presence that she liked in a man, but she was too mad to process his effect on her attitude.

  “What are you looking so sharp for? Or maybe I should say, who?” she asked, and added, “Nobody’s going to look at your hands, pretty though they are.”

  He sat forward. “What do you mean?”

  So he liked compliments, did he? She decided to be less direct. “Surely you don’t need compliments from me. I imagine you get so many that you’re bored to death with them. You go to school?”

  “I’m a junior at Morgan University. You think I have nice hands?”

  “I don’t think it. I know it, and I see hands every day and all day. But, like I said, nice as they are, I definitely wouldn’t spend my time looking at them.”

  He narrowed his eyes and creased his face with a slight frown, and she wondered if she’d taken the wrong approach. He didn’t know it, but before he slept tonight, she meant to have him.

  “Would you mind explaining that?” he asked her.

  She supported her answer with a slow upward movement of her right shoulder. “Listen, honey, you’re a man. I don’t have to paint a picture for you. A guy who looks like you has had his share of options, and don’t tell me I’m wrong.” She pushed her stool closer in order to give him a better look at her ample cleavage and the hard nipples pressing against her scoop-neck jersey blouse. She saw his Adam’s apple working and smiled inwardly.

  “How old are you?” he asked abruptly, annoying her with his blunt attempt to put her in her place.

  She looked him in the eye. “Old enough to know what to do with you and how to do it. Anything else you want to know?”

  “Yeah. What time do you get off, and how far do you live from here?”

  “I get off when I finish with you. I live on Kalorama Road. Why?”

  “Who lives there with you?”

  “I live alone. You want to go home with me?” She let the palm of her right hand graze her left nipple a few times.

  He swallowed hard. “Yeah. I’d like to see if your bite lives up to your bark.”

  She winked at him. “Don’t waste time thinking about that, honey. You can’t even begin to imagine what I’m going to do to you and how I’m going to make you feel.” She got up, patted his shoulder, and smiled. “And you’ll feel real good about yourself, too.”

  She knew she had a couple of bottles of white wine in her refrigerator, but what would she give him to eat? He’d have to be satisfied with a ham sandwich, apple pie, and vanilla ice cream.

  “Let’s go. I don’t have a lot of time,” he said, but she didn’t answer. Once she got him in her bed, he’d stay there for as long as she enjoyed him.

  “This is a neat place,” he said when they walked into her living room. “It’s very feminine.”

  “What would you expect? I’m a woman and proud of it. Sit in here while I get you a bite to eat. Sex and an empty stomach are incompatible.”

  “Good idea, because I didn’t eat much lunch.”

  She made the sandwiches, warmed the pie, and opened the wine.

  “You fixed all that?” he asked when she put the tray on the coffee table. “I love apple pie and vanilla ice cream.”

  She poured two glasses of wine and gave one to him. “I hope you’ll enjoy your visit sufficiently to come back.”

  A grin spread over his face, and she thought, This kid is a helluva looker. When he’d drunk most of the wine in his glass, she picked up a sandwich. He ate his and followed that with the pie à la mode.

  “That was terrific. Thanks.”

  She handed him another glass of wine, and when he’d finished it, she leaned over and loosened his tie. His gaze clung to her cleavage, and she put his hand on her breast and rubbed. “Want some? It’s all yours.”

  “What do you mean, do I want some?”

  Remembering his age, she put her hand behind his head, released one of her breasts, and pulled his hair. “The quicker you get a woman’s nipple into your mouth, the quicker you’ll get her into bed. And you’ll love sucking it.”

  He suckled her like a greedy baby, and heat plowed through her, but she didn’t rush him, because the wait would be worth it. A glance showed that he was not only ready but well equipped. And his moans told her to head to the next stage. She put his hand on her thigh beneath her dress, and he didn’t need instructions as to what to do next.

  You shouldn’t do this, Ginny, the weak voice of her ineffectual conscience told her. But she pushed it aside, as she usually did when mental remnants of her early teachings emerged. Nothing was going to prevent her from getting a taste of that pig meat. She doubted that he was a virgin, but if he was, so much the better. She unzipped his trousers, stroked and squeezed him, and when his head lolled on the back of the sofa while he moaned in pleasure, she bent over and tasted him.

  “Don’t stop,” he yelled.

  “I’m not crazy, honey. This is for both of us. You’re going to give me my share, too. Come on.” She relieved him of his trousers, and led him to her bed. For the next three hours, she worked him over, showing him that she did indeed know what to do with him and how to do it. His rapid recovery after every session reminded her of the value of youth in a man. She relished every minute of this man in her bed until, finally exhausted, she’d had her fill.

  “Honey, you have to get up now,” she told him. “I don’t want my neighbors to see you leaving here in the morning.”

  “In the morning? What? Good Lord, I was supposed to pick up my date at eight-thirty.”

  “It’s too late for that now. Does she have a cell phone?”

  “What time is it?”

  She looked at her watch. “Eightee
n minutes to ten. I’ll make you some coffee.”

  He swung off the bed. “Where’s the bathroom?”

  “Right across the hall.” She watched him stride out of the room, tall, naked, and all male, and liquid accumulated in her mouth. Damned if he was going anywhere right then. She got the remaining bottle of wine from the refrigerator and a bag of Cajun-spiced Doritos, put them on her night table, and was back in bed before he returned. He sat on the side of the bed.

  “Here,” she said, handing him a glass of wine. “As fine looking as you are, she’ll forgive you. Any woman would. Besides, the way you put it down, honey, you can get any woman you want.” She opened the bag of Doritos and handed it to him. He ate them absentmindedly and drained the wine glass, which she quickly refilled. Like a zombie, he drank more wine.

  Ginny eased her hand from his back to his genitals and began her assault on him. Figuring that, after so much sex, he wouldn’t explode the minute she touched him, she said, “Lie down. I never did get you all the way into my mouth.”

  When the sunlight awakened him, his mouth was at her breast, and his right hand rested between her thighs. Abruptly, he separated from her, jumped up, and began dressing. “Good Lord! I’ve ruined my life. My girlfriend’s an only child. Her father was going to give me a job at graduation, and I would eventually have been CEO of a Fortune five hundred company. All that for a romp in the bed of a woman whose last name I don’t even know and who’s older than my mother. Shit.”

  Affronted by his reference to her age, she sat up, put on her pink negligee, and waited until he was looking straight at her. Then, with an elaborate shrug, she said, “That’s life, honey. You like to screw, so this won’t be the last time your penis gets you into trouble.”

  “I see it doesn’t mean a damned thing to you. All you wanted was a good lay. Well, you got that, and maybe more. Didn’t you wonder why I didn’t use a condom?”

  She gasped, as fear settled over her. “You bastard.” She jumped up to express her rage with her fists, but the front door slammed, and she dropped herself on the bed as tremors wracked her body.