The Lists

by Meka James

  “Um, Ginger. Why am I locked out?” His voice held a slight hitch and the words were spoken slowly.

  I glanced around one last time before running over.

  “Close your eyes,” I called through the barrier.

  “What?”

  “Please, just do it.”

  “Okay. Fine. They’re closed.”

  I unlocked the door and peeked out. His eyes were indeed closed. Fingering the satin eye mask in my hand, I bit the inside of my cheek. Too late to back out now. Lifting up on my tiptoes, I stretched the elastic band around his head.

  He raised his hands up to move it. “What the…?”

  I slapped at them. “Don’t!”

  He let out a low chuckle. “Okay then.”

  My fingers wrapped around his wrist, and I led him into our room over to the chair I’d brought up from the kitchen, then pressed on his shoulders, forcing him to sit. I’d pulled that card from his jar three weeks ago and it took me that long to not only work up the courage to do this, but to figure out what to even do. Sexy and seductive were not words I’d ever use to describe myself, so trying to be both while putting on a striptease presented a challenge.

  And practice.

  On top of that, there were the memories. I’d fought to push back the dark thoughts that kept trying to creep in. This was supposed to be fun. More importantly, I needed to not let my history with Seth continue to mar things, especially since Malcolm had no idea asking me to dance for him would be tied to that time in my life.

  “Calida, baby, everything okay?”

  The warmth in his tone brought me back to the present. As odd as it was, the sound of my name from him remained damn near foreign. I was Ginger. His Ginger. I was only Calida in times of disagreement or worry.

  I took a calming breath. I could and would do this. I wanted to do this. For Malcolm, and just as much for me.

  “Just peachy.” I stepped forward to steal a kiss. As if they had a magnet to draw them in, his hands found my ass.

  He smiled against my lips. “What’s this?” He squeezed before he attempted to feel around more.

  I moved back and placed his hands in his lap, then removed the blindfold. I’d switched the bulbs in the lamp with low-wattage ones to add to the overall atmosphere. Even in the dim light, I saw his eyes rake over my body with open desire. I stood before my husband—the man of my choosing—wearing one of his black button-down shirts and a bright red tie. A red that matched the deep color on my lips and the stilettos on my feet. I placed one of my black-stocking–covered legs between his on the chair. The full grin that I loved so much spread across his face as he ran his fingers up until they connected with the garter straps.

  Before he could go higher, I stepped back.

  He glanced around the room, then settled his attention back at me. From the playful yet lust-filled look on his handsome face he knew what was about to happen. He licked his lips then sank his teeth into his bottom one.

  “My private dancer?”

  I picked up the black fedora off the dresser. I placed it on my head, pulling it low, then let my finger slide down the brim as I responded with a slow nod. He rubbed his hands together and the delicious smile returned.

  I turned my back, closed my eyes, and took a breath. I hit play on my phone, the song already cued up and ready to go. A remix of “Feeling Good” by Nina Simone began pouring from the Bluetooth speakers.

  As I’d cycled through Pandora looking for the perfect song, when this one came up in the rotation, my gut reaction had been to skip it, but I forced myself to listen; he was no longer in control. Like with my nickname—our special name—being with Malcolm aided in me taking back ownership over all aspects of my life. Seth was no more. Nothing. He’d been reduced to a dark spot in my life which served to strip him of all titles he’d once held.

  Malcolm was now my lover, husband, friend, and the most amazing father to our little boy. This was the song. The lyrics embodied everything I felt now thanks to the man waiting for his show.

  A slow rock of my hips. One side then the next. Picking up in tempo as the music increased. I rolled my wrist, matching the snaps of the song while my hips continued to move. Sliding my hands down my sides, I moved them around so that they pulled up the tail of the shirt just enough to give him a peek. Glancing over my shoulder, I winked before spinning to face him.

  I sauntered toward Malcolm in rhythm with the music, working the tie loose as I got closer. The moment I got within reach, he tried to grab me, but I backed up and shook my head. My fingers traced his bare shoulders as I moved around behind him. With a kiss to his right cheek, my hand slid down his arm. A small tug and he bent it behind the chair. He let his other follow without instruction and I bound his wrists with the tie.

  “What’s this? I’m supposed to have full access.”

  A kiss to his other cheek. “You will,” I replied. I pulled off the hat and placed it on his head before I sashayed around to stand with my back to him again.

  I closed my eyes and let the music wash over me. The lyrics, the beat, they mingled with the thoughts of my husband. Slow shoulder rolls as I unbuttoned the shirt, one agonizingly slow button at a time, all the while imaging his hands instead of my own.

  When I looked back over my shoulder, Mal’s devilishly handsome, panty-melting smile graced his face. Legs spread wide, the thin fabric of his shorts tented from his erection. A thrill passed through me. I let the shirt drop and ran my hands over my exposed ass cheeks and smacked them. The appreciative groan my husband let out hit me in my core.

  “Baby, I need to touch you.”

  Pleading desire laced his words. His eyes. In the deep rise and fall of his chest. All amounting to the added encouragement he didn’t know I needed.

  The restraint wasn’t tight, and he could get out of it easily enough, but he didn’t try. He was letting me have my moment.

  With arms in the air, my body swayed as I turned to face him. I brought them down, slow, letting my seduction take full effect. When I cupped my breasts, he groaned again. I drew circles around my nipples that strained against the sheer, black lace fabric; the tent in his shorts grew. The matching thong and garter belt granted me a boost of sexy confidence.

  I slid onto his lap, my back to him. The dance began with slow circles of my ass against his crotch. His hard shaft, thick and proud, nestled against me. My own readiness was evident in the dampness of my silk panties.

  It was only him and me; the music faded away. I moved to the feelings he created in me. To the way he loved me, cared for me, protected me. The warmth of his skin against mine. The subtle tension radiating from him as he held back from gaining his freedom. It was a song all our own in this moment. One only we knew the words to. I was his private dancer, and proud to wear the title.

  I sat back and folded my arms around his neck. He turned and our lips met. The moment they did, Malcolm took control, using only his mouth. His tongue swept through, dancing with mine. The power this man had over me. Every act radiated his love, leaving zero room for doubt. I needed more, so I made a quick turn to straddle him properly. I grabbed his face and pressed against him, the kiss turning frantic. I needed his hands on me as much as he wanted to touch me.

  A simple tug, and the knot came undone. Warm, large hands grabbed my waist before moving down to squeeze my ass. With our lips still connected, he stood with ease. My legs wrapped around his waist, my arms around his neck. I’d never felt more at home than when his body covered mine after he laid us onto the bed.

  His fingertips trailed up my outer thigh, along my side, and up to cup a breast. He nipped at my chin and kissed my neck, the short, coarse hairs of his beard adding an extra layer of sensation. My hands roamed across his back in an urgent need for skin-to-skin contact with the man who knew the exact notes to make my body sing.

  A hard pinch to my taut nipple had me arching into his touch. One leg wrapped around his and I grinded against him; the thickness of his thigh provided the
perfect friction. But I desperately needed more.

  “Malcolm…please.”

  He ran his nose along the column of my neck, giving small bites as he did. I dug my nails into his back.

  He pulled down the cup of my bra, freeing the breast and continuing to tease. “Does my naughty private dancer want something?”

  A flick of his tongue against my hardened nipple had hot arousal rushing between my legs. A low throb, pulsating like an S.O.S. My body overheated with desire. I pushed against his thigh, needing more contact. His teeth clamped down on the tight bud and he pulled back, drawing a strangled cry from my lips.

  “I didn’t hear an answer.”

  Answer? What?

  So close… I kept gyrating against him.

  He shifted, taking away his leg and leaving me panting on the edge of orgasm. I found my arms pinned above my head, my husband looming above me, his dreads hanging free to shut out the world around us.

  The intensity in his eyes caused my sex throb more. All him, everywhere. The strong yet gentle hold of my wrists. His heavy erection pressed against my stomach. The slight quirk of his mouth. Even the subtle sound of his breathing. I let out a stuttered breath from the magnitude of it all.

  Malcolm lowered his body so our faces were inches from each other. I let my tongue snake out and licked his lips from bottom to top. His own tongue darted out and ran between them.

  “Tell me how you want it.”

  A rush of air forced its way past my lips as the simple words slammed me with desire.

  I stretched up and nipped at his chin. A single, low word tumbled free before I could even process any other response.

  “Hard.”

  In record time, Malcolm discarded his shorts. His hand traveled up between my legs and he teased my aching clit through my soaked panties.

  “Sorry,” he whispered against my neck.

  No time to ask about what before he ripped the lace free and entered my eager body with one powerful thrust. The move knocked the breath out of me. My fingers gripped his strong arms, and he pulled back and rammed forward again.

  “Fuck!” I screamed, delighting in the sweet agony.

  The heels of my red stilettos pressed into the mattress as I propped my feet up to give me the leverage needed to brace for the anticipated next thrust. He kissed me in a way only he knew. Hard and demanding, yet still sweet and sensual. Faint remnants of his cologne invaded my senses, the tickle of his beard amplified by my acute awareness of all things Malcolm.

  When he pulled away, I missed the connection. I needed him as surely as I needed to breathe. Each hard pump into my body, a welcomed force accompanied by a soft cry and pleas for more.

  The building. Blood pulsated in my ears. My body tensed, waiting, anticipating the explosive drop into euphoric bliss.

  “Holy…fucking…yes!” White light danced behind my eyelids as the orgasm did its work of obliterating my senses.

  “Not done yet, baby.” Malcolm put my legs up on his shoulders and leaned forward.

  The new position kept me immobilized and let him sink deeper. I slid my arms under his, feeling the slick perspiration that matched my own, and held on for dear life. He slammed into me, his balls slapping against my ass as he gave me everything I begged for. Like a kettle ready to blow, the coiling pressure gathered beneath the surface, quick on the heels of my previous release. The second hit with the force of a semi, holding me hostage, unable to even cry out from the glory. One more hard thrust and Malcolm stilled, keeping me in place as he unloaded his own climax, accompanied with a deep, guttural roar.

  Another soft kiss before he slowly lowered my legs and eased out of me. He collapsed beside me. Heavy breathing from us both. I swallowed, trying to get the moisture to return to my mouth.

  “You okay?”

  I turned at the sound of his voice. And there he was, the sweet and concerned lover. “I’m perfect. Will probably walk funny for a week. But perfect.”

  My response got me his “kid in a candy store” expression. Wide eyes and giant smile.

  “Only a week? Damn, I’m slippin’.”

  I rolled my eyes but slid over into his outstretched arm and cuddled up beside him.

  6

  Family Dinner

  Malcolm

  I gathered the diaper bag while Ginger unbuckled Shawn from his car seat. Weekly family dinners were something my lovely wife had done before we got married, and we kept the tradition going. Collin and Sandy looked forward to seeing Shawn, and I’d lucked out and gotten probably the best set of in-laws on the planet, so I didn’t mind.

  Even spending time with Dorian wasn’t unpleasant. Something had mellowed her out. After years of tension between the two sisters and Ginger trying to please that woman who’d rarely spoken a nice word to or about her, seeing them getting along made me happy. A good relationship with her sister was always been something Ginger had longed for, so having it now was like the universe had finally stopped hating her.

  “There’s my boy,” Sandy said, taking Shawn as soon as she opened the door.

  Only after her grandson was secured in her arms did she move to greet Ginger with a kiss to the cheek, followed by doing the same to me.

  I closed the door as I followed the ladies in. “Smells great as always, Sandy.”

  “Thank you, Malcolm. I cooked extra so you two can take some leftovers.”

  Ginger rolled her eyes and shook her head. It was the same thing every week, and I never turned down home-cooked food. Plus, I liked the fact it took the pressure off my Ginger, leaving her free to occupy her time in other ways. Like acting out the lists. This whole thing had added another layer to our sex life, and I had to stop myself from adding more items to my jar on the sly.

  Collin got up to greet us when we entered, and Dorian gave us a slight nod. With ESPN on the TV, I sat and talked sports with my father-in-law while Ginger and her sister discussed business for Jokobi Enterprises. I did my best to tune them out and focus on what Collin said. Her selling off Seth’s company wasn’t an option, like his damn piano she’d kept in storage. Shawn’s legacy, was her excuse. Lil’ Man’s DNA couldn’t be denied—he was that bastard’s biologically—but the sentimental attachments she held onto, I couldn’t understand it. The ire under the surface prickled but I pushed it down.

  “Come eat,” Sandy called out.

  We all shuffled to the table. Food, laughs, and good times. Marrying a friend meant I already had a great relationship with her parents. They were like an extended family even before the marriage.

  “You two shouldn’t wait too long,” Sandy said as she brushed bangs from Lil Man’s forehead. He sat in her lap drinking the last of his milk after we’d finished dinner.

  “Wait for what?” Ginger asked, narrowing her eyes.

  “To give this sweet boy a sibling or two.”

  Ginger choked on the sip of tea she’d just taken. I focused on controlled breaths and keeping a smile on my face. Sandy certainly fell into that stereotypical ideal of grandmother. She doted on Shawn and made it known—not so subtly—that she was ready for more grandchildren. Dorian shot her sister a sympathetic look before quietly excusing herself, mumbling something about needing a refill.

  “You and Daddy waited a while. A long while. Why am I expected to be some sort of baby factory cranking out kids?” Her voice hitched and a slight flush crept up her neck.

  She shifted her gaze from her father over to me, then back to her mother. Collin shook his head but said nothing. Ginger began rubbing her thumb along the bottom of her wedding bands. Her tell, a small but clear sign of rising distress.

  “Besides,” I said, jumping in to help my wife. “We’re still newlyweds. Having Shawn out of diapers would be nice before we go down that route.”

  “Waiting that long was not on purpose,” Sandy replied.

  Collin reached over to give his wife’s hand a squeeze.

  “Our plan had always been to have children closer together. Wait about
two years, then have the next…” Sandy paused, looked over at Dorian as she sat down again, and then back to Ginger. “You two were not always the model of sibling love because of the age gap. I just don’t want that for this little boy.” She pressed her lips to the top of Shawn’s head.

  Ginger slipped her hand into mine. “Malcolm and I do want more children, Mom. We promise. You’ll have another person to spoil. Eventually.”

  I kissed the back of her hand, and she looked at me with a rueful smile.

  After I put Lil Man down for the night, I entered our room to find Ginger ready for bed. No fancy pajamas for her; one of my white T-shirts was always her choice of nightwear.

  My sexy lady sauntered over and planted herself in my lap. I ran my hands up her bare thigh and placed a kiss on the side of her neck. Her fingers twirled one of my locs.

  “Are you sure you’re okay waiting?”

  “Waiting for what?”

  “Kids. Well, more kids that is. I mean, we’ve only talked about it in passing…”

  Ah, the talk with her mother. I swallowed and quickly measured my options. On the one hand, I was ready to make babies with her, but on the other, I didn’t want her to feel pressured. My wife was a pleaser and walking a fine line to express my wants in a way that didn’t come across as overshadowing hers remained a conscience effort.

  I reached up and cupped her cheek, pulling her forward for a quick kiss. “Yes, I want more children with you. Would I be opposed to starting now? Not at all. But… I’m good waiting until we are both on the same page.”

  My comment was rewarded with a half-smile before she adjusted herself in my lap and rested her head against my shoulder. “I do want to have a mini-Malcolm. Well, I guess that would be another mini, since Shawn mimics almost everything you do.”

  I tightened my arm around her waist. “Can you blame him?”

  She let out an airy groan that I’m sure had an eye roll attached.

  I turned and kissed the tip of her nose. “Well, you might get lucky and have your own mini-me. I think I’d enjoy having a little girl to spoil rotten. She’d be beautiful, just like her mother.”