by S. K. Lessly
That was riveting, wasn’t it? Did you feel enlightened? Yeah, I didn’t either.
Anywho, we took lots of pictures and rode the ski lift just for kicks. I was silent through the whole outing. My mind was on my marriage.
Sebastian was amazing today. He wasn’t sending me weird vibes or anything so that wasn’t the reason for my mood. I don’t know, maybe it’s the mountain air or something but I had a lot of shit running through my mind. Questions like, could my marriage be over, and if it was, what do I do? How did I save it? Was it even worth saving?
What if Sebastian did cheat on me? Would that be enough for me to give him walking papers? Yes! Yes, it was! I didn’t take kindly to being second fiddle to anyone.
It was possible that I was making a mountain out of a molehill. I just felt as if something was off with him. I knew for sure I wasn’t being put first in this marriage. But something or someone, or possibly both, were and I was determined to find out which it was.
When we finally made it to the spa, I made a detour. I saw a gym, fully equipped with weight machines and treadmills, off to the side. As I examined the room, I noticed they also had a punching bag suspended from the ceiling. I waited until the men left us to go fishing before I made my exit. I told the ladies I was heading to the gym while they went to get massages. I needed to release more tension before I lost my mind.
I spent about an hour and a half punching and kicking the suspension bag, running on the treadmill and just doing pushups and sit-ups. When I finally emerged from the gym, I went to the Jacuzzi and found the ladies all sitting in the tub soaking. I quickly went to change out of my clothes and into a bathing suit. When I got into the hot water, I moaned my approval. Hot jets felt amazing against my sore muscles.
“Hey, have a good workout?” Tonya asked me as I sunk my tired body next to her.
“I think I did. I’ll probably pay for it later of course.”
“Well, you missed an exhilarating experience. I tell you that much,” Melissa announced as she leaned back into the tub and closed her eyes. “That massage I just got was wonderful.”
“Who are you telling? I was in heaven,” Amy chimed in and then looked at me. “Why didn’t you come with us?”
I shook my head. “It’s complicated. Let’s just say I needed to work off some frustrations.”
Amy laughed and waved me off. “Oh, I know the feeling. I can relate to that.”
We continued to relax in the hot water, chatting a little bit about what we wanted to do tomorrow. I told them about the antique shops we’d seen earlier today on our excursion. Amy piggy backed on me and went into detail about what we saw. I wasn’t a fan of antiques or dated furniture. I was more of a modern girl, but I appreciated the history behind the pieces as well as the way things were made back in the day, sturdy and long lasting.
Sebastian had a very busy schedule planned tomorrow and each of the women was looking forward to it. Some of us were actually going to try our hand at skiing while the others were going to ride snowmobiles.
By the time dinner rolled around, I had loosened up and started to enjoy myself. We selected a restaurant on the resort closest to us and stayed there way past an average dinner reservation. We laughed at stories Paul and Samson told us about their job as firefighters, about the people they saved, and the stupid things people did that started fires. I realized Paul and Samson were really close. I mean I knew they had known each other in college, but it wasn’t obvious how close they were until this moment.
I watched Paul closely as he interacted with his friend. There was more to him than meets the eye. Not only was he hotter than fish grease, he was also a really good guy.
He was extremely nice, first of all. I could tell just by hearing the different stories and my brief interaction with him that he would give the shirt off his back to anyone. He was the kind of guy you could count on to be there no matter what.
I also saw something else in his eyes, something mysterious and inviting. I wanted to learn more about him outside of our couple outings and get-togethers, but not in the way you would think. He just seemed like a person to have in your life, you know? Someone to have your back.
Okay, I know how this sounds.
And, maybe I wasn’t thinking straight right now. After all, being around a bunch of loving couples when you weren’t getting any at home was hard. But honestly, I was being good with my thoughts. When I had first laid eyes on Paul that fateful first night, I won’t lie, I had thoughts about him putting me in uncompromising positions. But again, that was before I found out he was married and my neighbor.
It was one thing day dreaming about some fantasy man you would never see again than dreaming about someone you talked to every week. I would never cross that line. Hell, neither would he. In fact, I bet he’d never done anything bad in his life.
I smiled to myself, wondering how he would handle crossing any line. He was that all-American Boy Scout; that good guy who parents trusted to keep their daughters wholesome and pure. I chuckled at that thought and suddenly noticed a pair of blue eyes looking right at me. When his cheeks reddened slightly, that’s when I realized I had been staring at him this whole time.
Oh shit!
My eyes widened at that realization and I immediately looked away. I searched the room, looking for telltale signs that someone else had caught me staring at Paul. I didn't notice anyone looking embarrassed or shocked. Everyone seemed to be fixed on Samson.
Good!
I took a few deep breaths when it dawned on me that my secret was safe. The thing was I hadn't learned my lesson. I dared myself to look at Paul again and when I did, he had his head down with a huge smile on his face. I looked away quickly, not wanting to get caught staring again. I wondered how long he had known I’d been watching him, though. I closed my eyes and shook my head. He probably thought I was a floozy the way I was staring at him; being a married woman and him being a married man. I couldn’t help it, though. I had been in awe ever since I’d met him and his wife and saw the way he treated her. The attention he gave her, the way he touched her, kissed her, and loved on her made me envious. I wanted that kind of affection and attention from my husband.
I hadn’t been treated like that by Sebastian in a long time. We had grown comfortable or rather, he had. But me, I wanted more. I wanted to feel how much my husband loved me through soft touches along my arms, or back, or thighs. I wanted to see the longing in his eyes like I saw in Samson’s, Tyler’s, and even David's eyes whenever they looked at their significant others.
When Sebastian and I had first started dating, he was like that and more. I couldn’t begin to decipher what had happened during the three years of our marriage. Something had changed. I wasn’t sure what it was, but I intended to find out.
Okay, enough about that and back to dinner. I had managed to keep my eyes on everyone else but Paul for the rest of dinner. I looped my arm through Sebastian’s and laid my head on his shoulder. A kiss on my forehead was his only response and that was fine with me. Finally, I’d gotten some affection from the love of my life. But I guess you could call me greedy because that little gesture wasn’t enough. I wanted more.
“Sometimes giving someone a second chance is like giving them another bullet because they missed you the first time.” - unknown
8
Lauren
Five o’clock the next morning, I found myself up preparing breakfast for the group. I currently had sausage and bacon cooking on the stove. I had my trusty griddle iron on the counter, its surface covered with perfectly-round pancakes. I placed a stool between the stove and the griddle so I could watch them both.
“Wow, it smells good down here.”
I jumped at the sound of the voice behind me and shook my head. I turned to see Paul’s smiling face as he strolled into the kitchen. He was wearing a simple black T-shirt and gym shorts, and I fought the urge to look at his crotch. He was in basketball shorts for goodness sake. Was he doing this on purpose? I let
out a small sigh as I watched him approach me, my eyes on his. I didn’t sneak a peek. Honest.
“Hey, what are you doing up so early?” I asked, finally getting myself together.
“I couldn’t sleep with that racket going on upstairs.” He shook his head and laughed.
The racket he was referring to was some couple having a loud and very busy sexual experience in one of the upstairs rooms. I had tried to tune it out earlier by listening to my iPod, but it only seemed to push the couple to be louder. They were so loud that I could have sworn I felt the house shaking.
I smiled and before I thought about it, I said, “Well, at least someone is enjoying themselves.”
Paul had a look in his eyes that caused me to shy away and stare at my pancakes. Great job, Lauren.
He cleared his throat and said standing next to me, “How long have you been up?”
I looked over at the clock on the wall. “Uh, I think about two hours now.”
“And the earth-shaking sex didn’t rock you back to sleep?” he asked.
I shook my head. “Actually, no, suffice it to say. But I really wanted to get started on breakfast so it worked out fine.”
“I thought Sebastian was the cook of the group.” Paul looked around at the mess I had made.
“Oh, he is. Breakfast is sort of my thing; that and baking.”
“Oh, yeah. You did make those pies for Thanksgiving. I tell you Samson and I took a few pies to the fire house the next day and they were gone before I blinked, leaving crumbs for me and Samson.” He shook his head.
“Well, just say the word and I can make you more. No problem.” I looked up at him.
“Really, you’d do that?” He matched my gaze and smiled.
“Of course.”
I turned away feeling embarrassed for even looking at him. I got up and went to the bacon and sausage and began removing the pieces that were done and started to cook a new batch.
“Can you use some help?” he asked.
I looked over at him and smiled thoughtfully. “Sure, what station would you prefer? Meat or pancakes?”
“I’ll watch the bacon and sausage. You’re making the most perfectly-round pancakes I’ve ever seen. I don’t want to mess that up.”
I laughed. “Okay, cool.”
“What’s all on the menu this morning?” he asked as he went to the sink to wash his hands.
“Well, I have sausage and bacon, both pork and turkey bacon as you can see.” I knew he only ate turkey bacon and I wanted him to know I’d thought about him. Again, when I realized the implications, I added, “And of course, I have grapefruits for Sabrina. I remembered she mentioned that one day.”
He stole a piece of bacon and ate it. He nodded his approval and I continued. “So, I have that and pancakes, of course. The home fries are cooking in those two pans on the back burners. When those are done, I’ll make the eggs and homemade biscuits.”
Paul looked around the kitchen, nodding at everything. Eventually, he said without looking at me, “You’re really setting it out for us.”
“Of course, we don’t need to spend unnecessary money if we don’t have to. Besides, I enjoy cooking and baking.”
We fell into a comfortable silence for a while. I hadn't a clue what had him so quiet. I was trying to concentrate on the pancakes and not the pure manly scent that was radiating from him.
You know how recovering addicts can’t be around drugs or whatever they were addicted to for fear they might lapse?
Well, I was feeling the same way right now. I hadn’t had sex in a long time and looking at the way Paul's muscles flexed when he moved brought impure thoughts to my mind.
I had never been with a white guy, and not to be funny, but I didn’t have the desire to either. Even though all women were pleasured the same way, it was the act of getting there that I questioned. I didn’t think a white guy would know what to do with a black woman in the sack. Here let me elaborate…
I’d always thought that most white women didn’t worry too much about the size of a man’s penis when they picked a mate. In my opinion, for them, it was more about what they could provide status wise. You know, like what they did for a living or if they had money or not. I knew not all white women were like that, but you couldn’t convince me otherwise when I would see beautiful women with an overweight, balding doctor or an arrogant, asshole lawyer who didn’t deserve to breathe the same air as their wives. I wasn’t knocking their train of thinking. I just couldn’t settle like that.
I say that to say there was a difference between my expectations in the bedroom than most white women. I was excluding those white women who loved black men. However, black men lacked a lot too. At the end of the day, for the guy, it was all about pleasing your woman; having the patience to know what they wanted and being able to deliver. White men may be better at that, I didn’t know. But the act itself, the rotation of their hips, the art of going deep inside a woman, hitting that spot to make them scream out; in my humble opinion, I didn’t think white guys were capable. Lovemaking, sure, but straight fucking… The jury was out.
Now, there were some black men who were horrible in bed and had no idea what to bring to the bedroom. However, society had rumored that black men were better lovers than any other race of men when it came to that kinky and rough stuff. At least that was what I’d read in some article.
Of course, I hadn’t tested this theory. I was going based on the scientific study. Also, growing up, I had only dated black men. But I’d watched Paul more times than I would like to admit and I was convinced that he was probably the good-lover type. You know the one that made love slowly and whispered sweet nothings in your ear. He wouldn’t be the one to rip your clothes off, pull your hair and spank your fat ass or talk dirty to you and… wait, what the hell am I doing?
I shook my head. Get a grip, Lauren.
“So, Lauren,” Paul began, breaking me from my thoughts. I looked over at him, feeling ashamed of what I was thinking about and waited. “Tell me more about you.”
“What do you want to know?” I asked, pouring a new batch of pancakes on the griddle iron.
“Nothing specific, just the basics. Do you have any siblings?” He finished making the sausage and bacon and I moved him to the potatoes. I shifted my attention from griddle and started getting the ingredients together for the homemade biscuits.
“Well,” I began, as I started to measure and shift the flour. “I have two brothers and a sister. I’m the youngest.”
He chuckled. “That explains a lot.”
“What do you mean by that?” I pouted.
He just shook his head and asked, “Are your parents still together?”
I nodded. “Yup! Forty-something years and counting. What about you?”
“Sort of the same as you. I have two sisters and one brother. I’m second to the youngest. My parents are still together and going about as strong as yours.”
“I bet you were the apple of their eye, the golden boy of the family.” I moved to the griddle and flipped the pancakes.
“Why do you say that? I seem soft or something?”
I shook my head. “No. I’m not saying you’re soft. How could you be doing the job you do? No. I meant that you were a model son. Doing the right thing and being a great kid. I can just tell.”
I hoped that I had cleaned up what I was trying to say, but the look on his face told me I hadn’t.
Paul looked at me skeptically. “You make it seem like I’m a choir boy or something.”
“Come on, Paul. I doubt you cut school as a kid or got into trouble. Hey, there’s nothing wrong with it,” I added quickly. “I wish I had been that way to tell you the truth. I was the exact opposite.”
“You cut school? I don’t believe it,” he said, feigning surprise.
“Oh, believe it. I cut school, got into fights, sneaked out of the house on a regular basis, stole my father’s car, and crashed it by the way. And I used to have an occasional drink or two.”
<
br /> Paul looked at me and shook his head. “I don’t believe it,” he told me and I really believed he meant it.
I nodded. “Oh, believe it, Paul. I was the black sheep of the family and as quiet as it’s kept, I still am.”
Paul flipped the potatoes and told me they looked done. I glanced his way to confirm, trying not to get too close to him, and agreed with his assessment. I gave him two bowls, laced with paper towels to catch any grease so he could remove the potatoes from their respective pans. I removed the remaining pancakes and placed the rest of the food into the oven and turned it on low. It was just to keep the food as warm as possible until it was time to eat.
“Why do you say that you’re still the black sheep of the family?” Paul asked.
“Well, both of my parents are doctors. My father is a doctor that heals the body. He has his own family practice. He’s managed to hold that job down for forty years. And, my mother also has her own practice as well, except she heals the mind. My siblings are success stories and products of my parents. My brother, William, is a corporate lawyer, a very successful one I might add. My sister, Janet, is a psychiatrist like my mother and my brother Mark is a Physician like my dad. He also has his own practice.”
I continued to prepare my biscuits, pouring milk into my bowl as I stirred to form the dough. I kept my eyes on my task, purposefully not looking up into blue eyes that I knew were watching me, assessing me.
“Then you have me," I continued. “I wasn’t a model student in high school. Don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t dumb. I did just enough to graduate. I managed to get into UPenn, but only because my parents were alumni and on some board. All of their kids went there so that was my destiny whether I liked it or not. They had no expectations of me except to try and graduate. They didn’t expect me to get my masters as well, on my own merit. However, I didn’t follow in their footsteps.”
