Sex Happens

by Carol Soloway

  “Leave your purse in the car so you won’t be worrying when we dance.” He helped her out of the car. “Remember, you’re with me.”

  “Sure,” she said, wondering why he felt he needed to reassure her. She linked her arm through his and walked to the entrance.

  He grabbed the coconut-shell handle on the wooden door and ushered her in.

  At the entryway, Alex stopped and surveyed the cavernous room filled with black couples.

  Two women and a man stopped dancing and stared. Alex tensed. The DJ caught her glance and held it. Her heart thumped. Tightly packed bodies, hair gel, and jasmine perfume yielded a heavy scent—like damp wool and cotton candy. She could almost feel the room sweat.

  Luke took her hand and led her toward the bar.

  Straightening her shoulders and feigning confidence, Alex followed him through a corridor to the right of the dance floor. Lights on the walls flashed like railroad crossings. The club exuded an electricity, which for Alex was definitely a departure from the ordinary, the boring.

  At an empty table, Luke held out a purple chair painted with palm trees and coconuts and motioned for her to sit.

  A waitress approached, wearing a short black skirt and fishnet stockings. “I’m Jez, what can I get you?” she said.

  “Glass of wine?” Luke asked.

  “Thanks, a Merlot,” Alex said.

  “Merlot for the lady, and I’ll take a scotch and soda.” Luke reached into his pocket and gave Jez a twenty. “We’ll be on the floor, so just leave the drinks.”

  Luke took Alex’s hand. “Let’s dance.”

  They walked to the middle of the dance floor. Tentatively, Alex swayed her hips from side to side. She watched a beautiful woman in a burgundy dress with matching wedge heels dance seductively, her silver earrings glinting under the strobe light. Mesmerized by the woman’s sensuality, Alex tried to mimic her moves.

  Another woman dancing behind Alex gyrated her hips and pushed Alex closer to Luke. She felt him: his head, shoulders, and hips moved in perfect rhythm with the music.

  After a few minutes, the pulsating music stopped and was replaced by “The Color of Love” by Boyz II Men. Luke wrapped his arms around her. Resting his chin atop her head, he sang softly. She pressed closer, feeling his heartbeat. Vertical sex.

  Her head on his chest, she was enveloped by his wonderful scent: a blend of soap and Aqua Velva aftershave. Then she felt the hard length of his penis. She pulled away. This was too soon for her. She wasn’t ready for another man to respond to her.

  “Let’s get our drinks.” He led her back to their table.

  As they left the dance floor, Alex noticed there was a special greeting Luke and the other dancers gave each other: a nod of the head, a lowering of the gaze. Luke was included. She was excluded.

  Sitting together at their table, shoulders and thighs touching, they sipped their drinks. In order to be heard above the noise, they leaned close and whispered into each other’s ears.

  His lips brushed her ear. He took her hand and whispered, “You’re a great dancer.”

  “I’ve always wanted to go dancing, but my husband, I mean former, would never go.”

  “We’ll change that.”

  “I’ll be right back,” she whispered.

  He got up and pulled out her chair. “I’ll be here.”

  She walked through strands of red beads into a dark hallway. Feeling instead of seeing, she grabbed the coconut handle just below the wrought-iron silhouette of a woman with huge breasts.

  She entered the bathroom. Three black women were cramped together, talking and laughing. Suddenly, they stopped and stared at her.

  Alex froze.

  One of the women at the mirror was leaning over, fixing her lipstick, her black leather skirt hiking up above her buttocks. Alex’s gaze landed on the butterfly tattoo nestled to the right of the thong strap that divided the woman’s firm buttocks.

  “Girl, what you looking at?” The woman at the mirror turned around and tugged at the hem of her leather skirt.

  “Uh, nothing.” Alex looked away.

  The two other black women standing in the tiny bathroom moved together, blocking the door to the one stall.

  The butterfly-tattooed woman placed two fingers on Alex’s shoulder and pushed. “Girl, what you doin’ here?”

  Alex steadied herself to keep from falling back into the second woman with the hot pink skirt that matched her nail polish.

  The hot-pink-skirted woman put her hands on her hips and asked, “You here with a date?”

  “Yes,” Alex answered.

  “Black or white?” the butterfly-tattooed woman asked, her voice too loud for the tiny bathroom.

  “Um.” Alex stared at the butterfly lady.

  The third woman, dressed in black pants and a bird-of-paradise blouse, asked, “’Ya don’t know?”

  “Black,” Alex said. “Actually, he’s bi-racial,” she corrected.

  “Aren’t there enough white dicks for you?” the butterfly-tattoo lady asked.

  White men don’t have white dicks, Alex thought. Not a good time for an anatomy lesson, she decided. She tried to squeeze past the women, but the hot-pink-skirted woman wouldn’t move. Instead, she pointed a hot-pink nail at Alex.

  “What are you doing here?” the hot-pink-skirted woman asked.

  Alex didn’t answer.

  The hot-pink-skirted woman picked at Alex’s white angora sweater as if she were removing a piece of lint. Then she reached out, touched Alex’s pearl necklace, and hooked her fingers around the strand of pearls. “You a teacha or something?”

  “Nah, she’s a nurse,” the butterfly woman answered. “Look at those stockings.”

  Laughter echoed in the tiny bathroom.

  Alex’s knees weakened.

  The hot-pink-skirted woman tugged at Alex’s necklace. Two pearls broke apart, and the necklace pinged to the floor.

  Laughing, the three women walked out of the bathroom.

  Alex picked up the glistening white pearls, cringing as her knees touched the dirty bathroom floor. When she stood up, she stared at her reflection in the mirror. She did look like a nurse or a teacher with her little white angora sweater and red skirt hemmed to just above her knees, and stockings! She shimmied out of her stockings and threw them in the trash. Too nervous to go into the stall, she pushed open the bathroom door.

  “Oh.” She jumped back, surprised to see Luke standing outside the bathroom.

  “What happened?” he asked.

  Without answering, Alex buried her face in his chest.

  “Did they hurt you?”

  “No,” she said and opened her hand to show him her pearl necklace.

  “I should’ve followed you and then waited outside,” he said. “It won’t happen again.”

  He kissed her, scotch and soda sweet, like nothing she’d ever tasted before.

  “Let’s go.” He took her hand, and they walked out of Sweets Club. “I’ll take you to a nicer place next time.”

  “Okay,” she said, uncertain whether she wanted to venture further into his world.

  CHAPTER 14

  As Alex and Luke left Sweets, she vowed she’d never go to a place where she didn’t belong. Her children needed her, and she couldn’t take chances like that.

  “Are you okay?” Luke asked before opening the car door for her.

  “Fine,” she said. True, she needed to move on with her life, but she had to be sensible, cautious.

  Luke turned the ignition on and looked over at her. Then he glanced down at her legs.

  Alex met his gaze.

  “Great legs.” He reached over and stroked her thigh, his touch so light she almost wondered whether it was his hand or her need.

  She didn’t pull away. He moved his hand up her thigh. His soft, fe
athery touch made her moisten, and she let out a low moan. She imagined him running his finger along the top of her lacy bra, turning down the cup, and licking her nipples. When he pulled his hand away to turn off the car, she gasped, realizing how her body responded to him.

  He got out, walked around to the passenger side, and took her hand to help her out of the car. “I’ll walk you to the door and be outta here,” he said.

  Wondering whether she was supposed to object or agree, she said nothing.

  As they lingered under the post light, she stared up at the angry scar above his right eyebrow. Beneath those eyebrows were the lightest brown eyes she’d ever seen. She reached into her purse and took out her key. When she gave him the key, their hands met—her tiny hand covered by his large calloused one. Incongruous, how their hands seamlessly fit together. His lips brushed hers, and she tingled.

  He opened the front door for her. “Could I get a CD from my car and have one last dance?”

  “Okay,” she said. As she stood in the doorway and waited for him to retrieve the CD, rain started to pelt onto the overhang. She stared at Luke’s car in her driveway and wondered whether she wanted him to return or she wanted to bolt the door shut, run to her bed, and imagine making love to Gabe, the only lover she’d ever had.

  Within a few minutes, Luke was back at her doorstep, CD in hand. His soaked shirt clung to his chest, revealing his muscular body, defined and full of power. He was gorgeous.

  “Would you like a towel?” she asked, throat dry.

  “Nah,” he said. “I’ll only stay for one dance.”

  They walked to the family room, and she pointed to the CD player.

  He put the Ray Charles CD into the machine, forwarded it, and beckoned to her.

  She moved into his arms, unaware of the prophecy of the song, “I Can’t Stop Loving You.”

  As Luke hummed, she relaxed against him. She looked up at him, and their faces touched. She felt his smooth, shaved face against her cheek. Their lips a whisper away, she moved closer, and they kissed. She needed him to take away the bitter taste of Gabe still lingering on her lips.

  They clasped hands, and their entwined hands played a duet to the music. Luke’s thigh pressed against hers. Then he stroked the scooped neckline of her sweater, lingering at the deepest part. She felt the heaviness of her breasts straining against her bra, her nipples begging for his touch. They kissed again.

  Letting the longing take over, she turned and led him upstairs. Since she hadn’t planned on inviting a man into her bedroom tonight, or ever, she hadn’t thought about candles or soft lights. With Gabe, it hadn’t mattered whether they took each other when the lights were out or in the bright sunlight. His body had become as familiar to her as her own. That’s the past, she reminded herself, and it’s over.

  They undressed, each keeping pace with the other. She unfastened her skirt button and then her zipper. Her skirt fell to the floor.

  Luke unbuckled his belt and then guided his zipper down, tooth by tooth. He stepped out of his pants, the jangle of keys jarring her. He slipped his hands on the sides of his light-blue boxer shorts and pushed them down.

  She unfastened her lacy white bra, releasing her breasts.

  He looked at her. “Alex,” he whispered. “All the times we’ve played tennis together, I’ve wanted to see you naked, touch you, kiss you.”

  Surprised by his confession, she wondered whether she, too, had been as attracted to him. Her heart beat faster as she climbed atop the light-blue-and-white sateen coverlet.

  Naked, they lay facing each other. He reached out to her. She trailed her fingers along his chest. Then, unable to trespass farther on his flesh, she stopped and started to get up.

  He gently pulled her back to bed.

  Tense, she looked at him.

  He lifted her face to his and kissed her. Then he lowered his head and sucked on her erect nipple. With each stroke of his tongue, she moaned.

  He rolled her onto her back and slowly caressed her body. She arched her body up to him and was shocked by her hunger.

  He licked his finger and then slid it into her, his touch soft yet urgent. She felt a throbbing to her core and reached down and stroked his penis. With each rhythmic movement of her hand up and down his velvety shaft, she felt his excitement. As she feathered the shaft of his penis, then the crown, his deep, primal moans excited her.

  Suddenly, invaded by thoughts of Gabe, she looked at the man who wasn’t Gabe on Gabe’s side of the bed. Or was it that Gabe had been on Luke’s side? Images from the past jumbled in her mind, yanking her away from pleasure. She pulled back, longing for the familiarity that was Gabe. Sex was Gabe, not this stranger. “I can’t,” she said.

  “Don’t be scared,” he whispered. “I’ll be gentle.”

  She believed him for now, just for now. She relaxed. He moved her on top of him and cupped her buttocks with his hands, pressing her to him.

  Suddenly, the pelting rain seemed to quiet down so as not to disturb their delighted moans. Touch became the conductor in their symphony of pleasure, with the other senses—sight, smell, sound, and taste—all playing their parts in building to a crescendo of passion.

  He rolled her onto her back and climbed on her as gracefully as though he were dancing again. Her legs wrapped around him as his hips moved from side to side, carrying her with him.

  “Tell me what you feel,” he urged.

  “I feel you,” she said.

  “Take me. I’m all yours,” he said.

  Each time he thrust into her, she shuddered with excitement. She couldn’t tell where her body ended and his began. “I’m coming!” she yelled, shocked at the sound of her own pleasure.

  Arms and legs entwined, they fit together.

  They drew away from each other, but hunger made her press close to him. Her desire hadn’t been sated, and they made love again. This time they were gentler—the exploration just as exciting as the orgasm. Maybe their lives possessed no shared symmetries, but tonight their bodies resonated as sex bridged the chasm between them.

  He took her hand in his.

  She looked at their entwined fingers: black, white, black, white. She started to drift off.

  He nuzzled her neck. “I’d better be going,” he murmured.

  As though awakened too early from a dream, she watched him dress. Then, wondering why she had given herself to him, she belted on her red velour bathrobe and followed him downstairs.

  At the door, they kissed briefly, strangers once again.

  She bolted the door behind him. The quick flight from distance to intimacy and back left her disoriented. What had happened wasn’t just parts entering parts, his penis into her vagina. For her, it had been him plunging into her soul.

  At two in the morning, Alex changed her semen-and-sweat-soaked sheets. She put them into the washer and thought about sex, the counterfeit of love with all the excitement but none of the entanglements. Entanglements were what gave life meaning and bound lovers together. And it was the entanglements she craved most.

  CHAPTER 15

  In the morning, Alex felt like a stranger in the bed that had once been her cocoon, an embrace that protected her from the world. As she snuggled between the down quilt and the sheets, she wondered whether she should buy another bed—one without the depression on the left side—one that no longer held the memories of life that was Gabe.

  Then her thoughts turned to Luke Jackson: Why had she let him into her bed and allowed him to rekindle a lust she’d thought was lost to her forever? She decided she needed the validation of her sexuality which Luke offered, and, although it was sex and not love, that was all she needed at this point.

  The phone rang, jarring her.

  “What happened last night when Gabe came over?” Liz asked.

  “I signed.” Alex felt her gut twist and a sour taste invade her m
outh.

  “Why?” Liz asked.

  “Gabe insisted the partners would fire him if the divorce triggered an audit. Then he wouldn’t be able to pay for the children.”

  “He’s lying.”

  Alex choked back tears, recalling how the truth could destroy a life, a home. “Gabe also said Dr. Kaplan from Brea Presbyterian Hospital would testify that I intentionally burned Jon.”

  “He’s bluffing,” Liz said. “My husband’s signaling me to hurry up and invite you out for breakfast.”

  “I’m not up to it.”

  “We’re taking you out. Pick you up in fifteen.”

  “Okay,” Alex agreed. It would be good to see Liz and Stan, and having breakfast with them would be better than standing over the kitchen sink and eating a toasted bagel without even bothering with a plate.

  She reached for her white shirt and khaki pants, then she pulled a comb through her hair and brushed her lips with peach lip gloss. Draping her apricot cashmere sweater over her shoulders, she went outside, sat on the bench in front of the house, and waited for Liz and her husband. After sex with a man who wasn’t Gabe, she felt like an intruder in her own home.

  Liz and Stan pulled up in their new Lexus, and Alex climbed into the backseat. While Liz and Stan talked about their construction mishaps, Alex tried to pay attention, feigning interest in their problems with contractors: chipped tiles, cracked cement, and warped wood.

  Ten minutes later, Stan dropped Alex and Liz off and went to park.

  Liz slipped her arm through Alex’s arm, and they walked to the tiny restaurant hidden in an alleyway between a children’s shoe store and a dentist’s office.

  “Why’d you sign?” Liz asked. “What’s up with Gabe’s power over you?”

  Alex felt her eyes tear. “The family was everything to me. I believed nothing could happen to our perfect family. I thought Gabe was just too tired from working so hard, and I didn’t even notice that we hadn’t had sex for months.”

  “Wait,” Liz said. “Is this conversation leading to you having sex with the first person who asked you out?”