by J. Nichole
We dated, as much as high school students could date, kissed, felt each other up. Then one night, in the back of his car, he convinced me it was time to move beyond touching. We awkwardly fucked in the back seat. I thought our fates were sealed. All the dreams I had as a little girl of getting married, having a mini-me running around one day, were solidified.
Then a week later, the deacon’s son decided he was over the preacher’s daughter and moved on to some other church girl. I was crushed. But I vowed to myself that settling down wasn’t for me. My dreams of a wedding and dreams of kids morphed into wanting to travel and have fun, alone.
“Guess I’ll have to settle on being in two weddings instead of three,” Laila says.
“If you are counting Jennifer into that equation you may want to check your math.” She gasps. “No, her and her little boyfriend haven’t broken up yet.” Jennifer is the only person I have ever known who is in a relationship but non-committal. If you leave it to her, she probably would have avoided the relationship too, but now that she’s playing the role of girlfriend, that’s about as far as she’s going.
“Nicole, really though. I think you should give Bryan a chance.”
“Listen, I’m in Georgia,” I drag out Georgia for emphasis. “He’s in New York. If nothing else, any shot we could have at trying a relationship is null and void for the simple fact that we can’t get to know each other properly.”
“You may not be able to fuck over a phone, but you can surely get to know someone.” Her pleading is making me tired, and watching the food show is making me hungry. I hang up with her before I say something that could end our friendship. Being hangry can make me say crazy things.
“How was your weekend in New York?” my nosey office mate Krista asks first thing Monday morning. She turns around in her chair to face me, legs crossed with a smile on her face. We graduated the same year, but because of my extra time in undergrad, she’s younger than I am. On days like today, I am reminded of that. My emails haven’t completely loaded before she’s digging for information.
“It was good. New York has a lot going on.” I look at her and return her smile. “You should visit sometime.” I remember her telling me she hadn’t really ventured out of the state of Georgia where she was born, raised, and attended college. The girl is in dire need of travel time.
Krista taps her hand on her knee. “You’re right. I should, so I can stop living my life through you and all my other adventurous friends.” Her smile fades and I almost feel sorry for her. Almost. Although her family may not have done much traveling when she was young, she’s an adult now, fully capable of booking a plane ticket and getting the fuck out of here.
“I hope we don’t have a full day today. I could use the time to catch up on my document due at the end of the week.” I turn to my computer and open my calendar, and I’m not surprised that it’s full. “Wishful thinking I suppose.” When I majored in Business Administration, I imagined walking into work wearing a power suit and making decisions that would grow an organization. Instead, I’m more like a glorified secretary attending meetings, analyzing business metrics, documenting my results, and capturing notes for those who are on the verge of retirement.
“Story of our lives,” Krista sighs and turns away from me.
“What’s the story of your lives?” Ethan sits on the edge of my desk and takes a sip of his coffee. The glimmer from his cufflinks mesmerizes me as I examine his suit that probably costs more than I will make in salary this week. He’s where I want to be, where I thought I’d be coming out of L.U.’s illustrious business school.
Krista clears her throat and says, “You know. Just girl talk. Nothing serious.” Of course she would become bashful in front of Ethan. He’s a senior level manager and could have us fired, if only we reported to him. Thankfully, we don’t. Ethan tugs on his beard then looks to me, shrugging his shoulders.
I grab my laptop and stand to leave our shared office space. “Excuse me,” I say as I attempt to walk past Ethan. “I have to get to this meeting.”
“Oh, actually I came over to ask you a question about your document.” I turn to him with my eyebrows raised. “Can I walk with you?”
“Sure.” I take a few steps ahead of him and he follows.
“It’ll be done by the end of the week, right?” I nod my head. It would be done sooner if I weren’t in meetings most of the day, but of course I don’t tell him any of this. “I know it will include the quarterly marketing data.” He lingers as I stand beside the conference room for my meeting. “Any way you could include the data from the social accounts?” My head swivels around. He squints his eyes. “Too much to ask?”
“I haven’t reviewed the social accounts before. I’m honestly not sure if I’ll be able to aggregate it by the end of the week.”
Ethan bites the inside of his lip. “Okay, how about you consider it? But if you can’t get it done no worries.” He looks down the aisle and into the conference room. Then he whispers, “If you can make it happen, I owe you dinner.”
Dinner which would be highly inappropriate considering he’s a senior manager here at the company. Besides that, his skin, shades darker than mine, is smooth. Smooth like his childhood was void of puberty breakouts. His gray beard against that smooth, dark, skin makes his distinguished look too appealing to ever consider seeing him outside of this office, and definitely not in an intimate setting. Ethan smiles and says, “I mean as long as you don’t have anyone who would be offended by me taking you out.”
I shake my head and as the head of marketing gets closer I say, “I’ll let you know what I can do.” I turn away from him and take a seat at the conference table. Of course, my goal will be to add social accounts into this document, even if it means I need to lose sleep for the rest of the week. Smiling, I open my laptop and prepare myself for this meeting.
“You’re amazing,” Ethan smiles from across the table. Amazing and sleep deprived after pulling out all stops to make sure my document included the social accounts Ethan requested. “Order anything you’d like tonight. You deserve it.” The one thing I’d love isn’t on the menu.
“You didn’t have to bring me out, but I appreciate it.” I lay the menu on the table and say, “I’ve been wanting to try this place.”
He squints his eyes. “Why haven’t you been here yet?”
“My girlfriends are semi-cheap.” I laugh. The lowest priced entree on this menu is forty dollars, and we usually dine at places where our total is more like twenty. “Anyway. I’ll be sure to tell them how great it is and hopefully they’ll splurge.”
Ethan sighs, “Or when you’re ready I’ll bring you again.” Without a laugh or even a smile his offer seems genuine.
“Here again? I’m sure there are other restaurants we could try.” After the waitress takes our order Ethan tells me about his start at our company. Much like Krista and I, he started in documentation purgatory. After a few years, he made his way to management, and finally, to senior manager.
Our food arrives and I take a bite of my Wagyu beef and moan involuntarily. Ethan laughs and says, “Like I said, when you’re ready to come here again let me know.”
After my plate is void of any remnant of the beef or delicate sides, Ethan offers to buy dessert. With my nose scrunched and hand on my belly I ask, “You have room for dessert?”
The smile and glimmer in his eyes indicate what I feared. This dinner has crossed the line, and there’s no turning back. I may actually get some tonight, and after the week of hustling I’m not even concerned about what our work relationship will be Monday. “My momma taught me that there’s always room for dessert. Always.”
“Momma’s always right.” Ethan orders his favorite dessert, the New Orleans style bread pudding. After a few bites, I concede the dish to him. “I won’t be able to move if I eat another bite.”
“Let’s go walk it off.” Ethan throws his napkin on the table and calls for the waiter. After paying the bill he rises and grabs my hand
. Walking is not the way I’d like to work off my full belly, but I hope it leads to more physical activity with him.
With our hands intertwined I ask, “Where are we going?”
When we exit the restaurant Ethan points down the street and says, “To the art gallery.” He takes a few steps before asking, “You like art, right?” I nod my head and walk beside him. “Good.” He nods his head. “This gallery features upcoming artists, and rotates the art monthly.”
Ethan leads me around the gallery, pointing out distinctive details of each piece. One piece of a woman laying across a bed with a sheet draped across her body causes us both to stop and linger. Ethan whispers, “What do you think happened before the artist created this piece?”
I envision the artist and the woman from the canvas rumbling in the sheets. With my lips pursed I say, “I can only imagine.”
Ethan says, “Wish I was an artist.” Leaning in close to my ear he whispers, “I’d love to paint you.”
“No time like the present to start practicing new ambitions.” I wink at Ethan and his smile grows wide. He nods his head toward the door and I follow him, hoping we are on our way to his house to make this painting a reality. In the car, he asks me if I had enough time to walk off my food, and until then I hadn’t even thought about my too full stomach. “Yeah, I’m good now.” When we arrive at my apartment I’m saddened that I won’t be able to see his grown man living arrangement, but it can go down in this car for all I care right now.
“Let me walk you up.” He gets out of the car and opens my door. He reaches in to grab my hand and we walk up the stairs to my apartment.
When I open the door, Ethan doesn’t follow me into my apartment. “Coming in?”
He wags his head. “I should probably get going. I have an early start tomorrow.” Early start. On a Saturday? I scrunch my nose. “I know, sounds like an excuse.” He reaches out for my hand. “But if you are free tomorrow night I’ll take you up on that offer.” Leaning into the door he looks around the apartment and says, “Or maybe you can come check out my place.” I smile, although I feel like screaming. “I’ll call you.” His lips connect with mine but I pull away before I get too excited and have to fall asleep horny and pissed… again.
Closing the door, I say, “See you tomorrow.” Leaning my head against the door I dig my phone out of my purse.
Nicole: You have to break this curse you have on me.
Chapter Eleven
Bryan
As the Hennessy runs down my throat, I look around the bar at the selection of women. Most are too occupied with their friends to notice me, but there is one woman across the bar from me who is alone like myself, staring into the bottom of her now empty glass. I take the last sip of my drink then move to the seat next to her. I call the bartender over and ask, “One more Hennessy and whatever she is having.”
The woman raises her hand to the bartender. “I’m good.” She looks at me and whispers, “Thanks though.” Her thick curls are now swept back and I have a clear view of her eyes, a greenish brown hue.
“What’s your name?” I ask her as she gathers her purse in her hand.
“It’s Riva.” Her tongue rolling as she pronounces her name. I won’t ever grow tired of the Spanish female population in New York. “Yours?”
“Bryan. Are you leaving already?” She loosens the grip on her purse.
She turns to face me completely and says, “I shouldn’t have been here for this long. I should get going or I’ll regret this in the morning.” I look down at my watch to check the time and it’s just after nine. “I have a presentation tomorrow that I should be preparing for but instead I let my boss piss me off. Made a stop here at the bar on my way home to drink away my attitude.” She rolls her eyes as I imagine she recalls the issue with her boss.
“Sorry to hear that. But I’m glad I caught you before you headed out.” I place my hand over hers sitting on the bar. “Your last thoughts before you go home to prepare shouldn’t be of your incident with your boss.”
She takes a deep breath. “Even if you are able to rid me of my thoughts of my boss, as soon as I start to prepare for my presentation I’ll be reminded of our argument.” Her eyes gloss over and her irises darken. “I have to change a significant portion of the presentation.” She removes her hand from beneath mine and stands to leave. “The thought alone.” She shakes her head. “I should get going.”
“Mind if I walk you out?” I take the last sip of my Hennessy and leave money for my tab on the bar. Following closely behind her I ask, “Do you live nearby? I could walk you home.”
She cocks her head and says, “Bryan. I just met you. You could be loco.” I laugh at her interjection of Spanish.
“Ah no, mami. Pero podrías estar loco.” I say with a wink and she laughs with her head tilted back. She nods her head in the direction away from the bar and we walk side by side. “What type of work do you do?” I ask.
“I’m a business analyst at a financial firm.” She watches her steps as we cross over a puddle of water. “On a normal day I love my job.” She turns to me. “Today, not so much.”
“Look at me failing on my promise. My job for this walk is to make you forget about your imperfect day.” I take her hand and we continue to walk. “What about for fun?”
She stops walking and looks at the brownstone beside us. “Maybe you can call me and I’ll fill you in.” She nudges her head toward her door. “Thanks for walking me home.”
I pull my phone out of my pocket to collect her phone number and see a text message notification.
Nicole: You have to break this curse you have on me.
I dismiss the notification and input Riva’s number into my phone. Although I’d rather be taking her inside, I allow her to wrap her arms around me and we hug till I feel her sigh and the tension release from her body. “I’ll give you a call,” I say.
On my way to my apartment I call Nicole and just before I hang up, she answers. “I have a curse on you?”
“Yup. Until I met you I could easily get some loving, a quick fix when I needed to release some stress, a rumble in the sheets just for the hell of it.” I let her go on and on till her descriptions have my dick rock hard.
“Maybe we both need to find a witch doctor, because it wasn’t me who cursed you. I’m having the same type of luck.”
“Ain’t that some shit,” she says. “But maybe you deserve it for that stunt you pulled before I left New York.” Nicole and I haven’t spoken since she escaped my bed in the middle of the night. Not because I didn’t want to, but I wanted her to reach out to me first. I told her how I was feeling, how I want more than her riding my dick on occasion. I wanted, wanted more, but now I’d settle for fucking.
“Stunt. Is that what you consider what happened,” I ask. She snorts. “You still aren’t convinced I’m good for more than just a good fuck?”
“I’m not even convinced you’re good for a fuck.” I hear her mumble under her breath. “But anyway, nothing you can do to prove either theory wrong. Or right. You’re there, and I’m here.”
Now she reveals her truth. She isn’t down for the long distance. “You’re afraid that if I was the real deal I couldn’t be true to only you.” I take the stairs to my apartment to avoid losing the call in the elevator. “Because out of sight out of mind. Or some shit like that?”
“Exactly.” She grunts and I imagine what she would sound like if I was delivering her pleasure. If she’d be a loud moaner or if she’d be bashful and withhold them. “You haven’t had the chance to be faithful to a chick around your way, let alone one hundreds of miles away.” She’s right. Just as quickly as I tried to jump into the bed with Riva tonight, not seeing Nicole could be difficult.
“You’re right.” I take a pause to catch my breath. Since I’ve been in New York I’ve taken for granted the casual walking as an excuse to neglect the gym.
“You good? You sound like you are dying a slow and painful death over there.” She laughs. “Bet
ter work up that stamina.”
“I take it you’re not up for a social experiment.” Sometimes my mouth starts talking and shit starts rolling out without me thinking it all the way through. But I’m committed once I’ve said it. “A playboy and a playgirl, hundreds of miles away, stay committed to that special someone. Defying all odds.” I lean against my bar and ease myself onto a barstool. Replaying what I just said, I wish I could just rewind, and go back to about thirty minutes ago before I called Nicole spewing all types of lovey-dovey bullshit.
“Damn are you coming back from the bar?” She laughs. “I’m going to chalk all that you just said to you being drunk.” I’m thankful she’s willing to overlook the nonsense I’m talking. But what if I was serious?
“Yeah, I should probably get off the phone before I say something that makes me lose all my street cred. If you find that witch doctor tell me what type of sacrifice I need to make to get back on track.” Nicole agrees and we hang up.
Grabbing a glass from the cabinet I pour myself another Hennessy. With my drink in my hand I walk to my windows and gaze out across the city. The nightlife of New York has its beauty. The myriad of colors from the different buildings collectively makes a collage of wonder. My urge to recreate what I see is daunting me and I wish I had my art studio to escape to or at least my art supplies. My trip to Tennessee is inevitable, although I’d been avoiding going back until I figured out my next steps, but that plan makes zero sense if art is supposed to be my next step. I shake my head as I consider my void plan. Again, my mouth talking shit before my mind could think through the consequences.
My phone alerts me of a text message and I walk over to the counter and open my messages, nearly dropping my phone when I see the picture of Nicole. Not of her entirely, her face missing but her breasts on full display.
Bryan: I’m pretty sure the witch doctor didn’t tell you a tits shot would break the curse
And if she did find a witch doctor who happened to tell her to send me a shot of her tits, I don’t know if I owe her gratitude or attitude. My dick is sitting rock hard for the second time tonight. I’m not used to sexual deprivation.