She spent most of her time lunching with friends and agonizing over that big day when she can finally get out of the dating game—or dating suicide, as she likes to call it. She’d learned that good and quality aren’t always synonymous.
Sitting on her eggshell-colored pima cotton bedsheets, Alexis wondered where she had gone wrong. Why she had lowered her standards to let a man like Leonard waste four years of valuable time or why she even stayed with him in the first place. She wasn’t that attracted to him, though she tried to be. There was just nothing romantic about dating a man who lives with his mama and still expects her to wash his dirty drawers. Here she was, sampling the hottest dating pool of black men in New York City, and she still couldn’t find a man. She hadn’t had a real boyfriend since college. Daxton loved the ground she walked on, but unfortunately, she didn’t feel the same back then. She always had her eyes turned toward greener pastures—which in Daxton’s case meant five inches taller and fifty pounds lighter.
The sound of the phone ringing jolted her out of her daydream.
“Honey, it’s Friday night. Ain’t you supposed to be chillin’ with Leonard in his mama’s living room?” Diedre chuckled on the other end.
“Leonard is old news. I am tired of being in a relationship with him and his mama,” Alexis said.
“Didn’t you break up last month about the same thing?”
“Yes, and I realized I am wasting my best years waiting for that fool to get off his mama’s titty. He’s talked about saving for a house, but has a leased eighty-thousand-dollar Benz. He is not serious about his future like I am. And he had the nerve to tell me he won’t have a hard time finding someone else.” Alexis walked into the kitchen and fixed herself a glass of Coke and a shot of tequila.
“He’s probably right. I don’t know what it is about us black women, but we sure make these men feel like we come a dime a dozen,” Diedre said. “Thank God I don’t have to deal with all that drama.”
“Please, don’t start acting like you are exempt from all this. You’ve have your share,” Alexis said with a smirk, recalling all of Diedre’s broken hearts.
“Well, my man Prince is just so different. Plus, he cherishes me. From where he comes from, women like me don’t come a dime a dozen. He got his nose wide open,” Diedre bragged.
Alexis listened intently as she played with her pearls.
“Besides, Leonard is too dull for you. You need a man with a little excitement like Prince, but he’s mine, of course,” Diedre said in a proud manner. “But I have met the girlfriends of some of his boys, and they are very happy with their man. Even the girls that get cussed out or cheated on. It’s like once a thug or street brother lay the thing on you, they leave you sucking your thumb like a three-year-old.”
Alexis sighed at her lackluster sex life for the last year with Leonard. “I rather be sucking on something else, if it’s that good,” she said.
“I’m telling you. Once you go street, you start dressing and walking all different,” Diedre said.
“Is that why you bought that loud lime green coochie cutter short set? Gold chain around the waist?”
“Let’s just say that is just one thing. You should check out my new wardrobe and panties. And my pussy literally feels different. It’s more moist. I feel like I can do a full split at the drop of a hat.”
“Okay, okay. Enough said. Now where do you find these guys?”
“It’s not like they are all in one place, honey. They are in the boardrooms, on construction sites, the police department, fire houses, street corners, and in front of the bodegas. I’m talkin’ about a certain mentality. A gritty, knock ’em out, hustler’s mentality. An ‘I don’t care if my shit stank’ kind of attitude. A kind of man that’ll make you suck his dick in your mama’s house.” Diedre sighed. “It’s just hard to explain.”
Alexis raised her eyebrows at Diedre’s breakdown. “I think you explained it well enough. But aren’t they dangerous?”
“Uhm, it depends. In the bed, it’s pain before pleasure. Good pain. I get called every kind of nasty name I’ve fantasized being called. And I love it.”
“Well, I don’t want nobody messing up my credit. I have to think about things like that.” Alexis twirled the phone cord around her fingers. She was more intrigued than she sounded.
“You have so much money, you don’t even need any credit,” Diedre said with a smile. “But when they put the big black thang on you, you may end up lending him your name.”
Alexis wasn’t trying to get that deep. “Listen, I am not taking care of no man for some sex,” Alexis said. “I just got too much at stake—” She stopped midsentence when she heard some commotion on Diedre’s end. “Diedre?”
“Ooh, girl, Prince just got in. And he is giving me the eye,” she whispered. “You know what that means. Later!”
Click.
“Hellooo?” Alexis said, as she stared at the hand receiver.
___________
A WEEK LATER, Alexis stood at the center of Plush, an upscale restaurant hosting a fund-raising event for Reverend Jesse Jackson. Alexis wasn’t much of a political enthusiast, but she realized with her father’s prominent job that it was important to represent her family at such events.
She greeted familiar faces and smiled at those she did not know.
“Alexis, my darling, you look more like your mother every day. Ravishingly beautiful,” Mrs. Paul said. Mrs. Paul was a prominent member on several prestigious boards of financial institutions and a close friend of her mother’s. Her neatly styled silver hair showed off her caramel cheekbones and plastered grin.
“Thank you, Mrs. Paul, but I could never be as beautiful as my mother,” Alexis said as she lightly shook Mrs. Paul’s hands. The loud band music and groups of laughter made it hard for Alexis to focus on Mrs. Paul. She actually just wanted to split.
“Here alone, tonight, dear?” Mrs. Paul folded her hands together, and a look of pity spread across her face.
“No, my date couldn’t make it at the last minute,” Alexis said, nervously fidgeting with her neck of pearls.
Mrs. Paul turned around as if to look for this mysterious person Alexis was referring to; then she smiled weakly. “You know, don’t you worry. You will find yourself a nice man who will sweep you off your feet. You’re only twenty-five.”
“I’m twenty-nine.”
“Oh, well, in that case, don’t be so picky, dear. It only gets harder,” she said, her eyes filled with pity. “I’ll pray for you.” She squeezed Alexis’s hands for reassurance and glided across the room when an old friend caught her eye.
Slowly, Alexis was beginning to feel like a fifth wheel as everyone else looked to be paired up, enjoying the evening. At almost six feet and the tallest woman almost anywhere, she felt like a sign post was hovering over the room: LOOK AT ME I AM SINGLE PLEASE NOTICE
ME. There she was, hoarding the buffet table with her third plate of macaroni salad and teriyaki chicken wings. She didn’t like lying to people about her status. He couldn’t make it at the last minute was a line she used one too many times. But she couldn’t stay angry at people like Mrs. Paul. They expected Alexis to have it all—the money, the looks, the clothes, and the husband. She played the part well and thought she deserved an Academy nomination. What hurt most was seeing ex-boyfriends at these types of events. Fhank you Lord for not putting me through that tonight. They’d be on a date, and she’d be without one. She’d wondered what they were thinking. Did they think something was wrong with her? That no one wanted her? Alexis studied the other single women, who outnumbered the men seven to one and wished she could look as relaxed as they did, playfully touching each other as they engaged in animated, fabulous conversation. Perhaps they deserved an Academy nomination too. Best supporting actresses was more like it.
She wondered how women like those and like Diedre who were over thirty appeared so free and unaffected by their unmarried status. At twenty-five, Alexis had already been trying on wedding dresse
s and browsing bridal magazines. It was like an infection that not even the strongest antibiotic could cure. That is, her need for a deep connection with a man in her life.
As she picked up the last two macaronis with her fork, she wondered if men even found her attractive anymore. She was picking up more weight and had never fought harder in her life to stay at a size 8. The black, knee-length chiffon dress she wore with the cutout sleeves, thankfully, made her look more like a size 6. She filled her plate with a few champagne-infused strawberries and popped them in her mouth, one after the other. Maybe the sweet flavor, she thought, would overtake her sour mood.
“Care to dance?” a male voice said over her shoulder.
“No, thank you,” Alexis murmured, not even turning around.
“I know you love you some vintage Michael Jackson. Off The Wall wearing a winter white cashmere sweater and loose gray slacks. His dark piercing eyes gave him a commanding presence. “Daxton?”
“Whatsup, baby?” he said, giving her a lingering kiss on the cheek. And just like that there was no one else in the room for Alexis. Her eyes scanned in on Daxton’s athletic build, stylish clothes, and shiny bald head. There was no potbelly, no baby fat around the face, and he even seemed taller. Most important, he had no rings on his finger.
“My God, what are you doing here?” Alexis said. She remembered how much Daxton worshipped her in college, and by the way he was drinking her in, the feeling was still there.
“My company works with the Wall Street Project on a couple of economic initiatives. Actually, I just got back from Japan,” he said, lightly touching her arm.
Alexis wasn’t normally at a loss for words. But it had been at least six years since she had seen Daxton, and he was looking his best ever. She knew this couldn’t be a coincidence; it was fate.
“Here alone?” he asked.
“Yes, I am.” Alexis looked over to her right and thought she saw Mrs. Paul wink at her.
“Listen, I’m in town for only a few nights, and I’d really like to catch up. Let’s say we get a drink over at the W?”
“Sure,” Alexis said, relieved that her evening was turning out better than it had started.
__________
ALEXIS AND DAXTON arrived at the sleek, stylish lounge at the W, where acid jazz infiltrated the room. Nestled in a corner sofa, they nursed their drinks and traded memories of their boarding-school days.
“You used to give a brother a run for his money back in the days,” Daxton said, as he swirled his brandy on the rocks.
“Well, I was young and confused. How old was I when we dated? Like fifteen?”
“Come on, more like eighteen. We were both on our way to college,” he said, taking a bite out of his lobster roll. “You had your eyes on grad school men.”
“And you had your eye on me. Those were the good ole days.” She laughed as he fed her a bite of his sushi roll.
“I did, and I still do. But you taught me a lot during that time. At least, how important it was for me to lose all that weight,” he said, patting his hard, flat stomach.
“I see.” Alexis rubbed his stomach and felt the slight ripple of a six-pack. “I have to say, you have changed a lot.”
“You look the same, though. Still gorgeous and sexy,’ he said, throwing his arm around her shoulder. He planted a kiss behind her ear.
Alexis leaned her head to the side to give him more access. She lost herself in his soothing Drakkar cologne, which reminded her of her father. She wanted him to hold her closer, make her feel safe as he used to when they were dating.
As soon at the music changed to something more contemporary, Daxton asked. “Care to dance?”
“I sure do.” Alexis took Daxton’s hand as they both swayed to a sultry, reggae tone emanating from the speakers. It seemed so appropriate for the moment, Alexis thought. She rocked her hips from side to side, as Daxton’s hands explored her curves. His hips followed hers in unison until they were both grinding against each other, her head on his shoulders, and his hands down the slope of her back. She fantasized about the two of them on a Caribbean island somewhere, dancing on the cool sands of the night. He squeezed her close to him, and she knew right there, that he was something special. This time, she wasn’t going to second-guess herself.
“Want to go upstairs?” His lips brushed against her tender earlobes. “I just want to spend as much time with you as possible.”
His deep, velvety voice made her unable to resist, and her silence spoke more than words.
Daxton gave the waitress a little over a hundred dollars for their tab of several appetizers and drinks. He always took expert care of her, and didn’t let her go until they reached his hotel door.
The enormous suite was the size of a large Manhattan apartment, with two bedrooms, separate eating and cooking areas, plush gold-colored carpeting, elaborate paintings, and sweeping views of the city. It was a suite fit for a king.
“Are you sure you are just in New York for a few days? This place is like a second residence,” Alexis said, running her finger along the butterscotch Italian leather sofas.
“Well, you know I always ask for the best. This is how I live every day—why would I change it when I’m away from home?” he said, holding her from behind. “Plan to come to see me in D.C.?”
“Of course I do. And I know this is not going to be your last visit to New York.”
“It’s just the beginning,” he said, kissing the nape of her neck. They lowered their bodies onto the couch, as Daxton slid down the straps to Alexis’s dress. Their tongues danced in and out of each other’s mouth, as he hungrily sucked on hers. Daxton’s breathing picked up, and he unbuttoned Alexis’s gold-trimmed bra and feasted his eyes on her exposed breasts. She cupped her breasts and fed her raisin-colored nipples into Daxton’s mouth. He sucked on them like an infant, massaging the fatty flesh with his hands. He gently bit on them, sending an electric shock of pleasure down her legs. Slipping off his sweater, Daxton revealed six years of hard work with a chiseled chest speckled with coils of black hair. They rolled over on the carpet into the master suite.
Daxton laid Alexis’s naked body on the red, velvety duvet and petted her purple thong panties. “Do you still taste as good as you used to?”
“Why don’t you find out?” she giggled as he slid her panties off. He licked her shaved pussy up and down in warm, light strokes.
“Oooh,” Alexis moaned. “Ohhh, Daxton!”
He threw both of her legs over his muscular shoulders and nuzzled his face between her thighs. His shoulders rippled as he found just the perfect spot.
Alexis’s moisture wet the bedsheets, and she wanted nothing more than to have Daxton inside her. If she recalled correctly, he wasn’t blessed below the belt, but she could work with what she got.
Daxton crawled up Alexis’s limp body, placing kisses from her belly button to her lips. She walked her fingers down to his hardness and was satisfied that he was hung quite nicely. Maybe that had changed too, she thought.
He slipped on a condom, spread her thighs apart, and prodded his dick against her softness until she felt the heat of its head press into her. She grabbed the back of his bald head and he grasped her ass and buried himself inside her wetness.
Alexis’s eyes rolled to the back of her head as Daxton fine-tuned her insides like an expert craftsman. The power of his weight made her feel small and fragile. Sweat slid down both of their faces as their lips locked as tight as their bodies.
In about ten minutes, Daxton was done. He turned over on his side. Alexis lay still to catch her breath. He pulled her toward him. “Some things stay the same, huh?” A smile formed on his lips.
Alexis turned to face him and rubbed his chest. She really did miss him, she thought.
“Your pussy still is tight as a vise.”
Alexis frowned, picking at his chest hair. “Thanks, I think.”
“Believe me, that’s a good thing,” he said nuzzling her neck. She kissed the space between his
eyes. “Should we order room service? Some champagne?”
Daxton reached for his paisley blue boxers. “I gotta get up pretty early in the morning. How about I call you then?”
Alexis’s stomach took a nosedive. She’d heard this line before—from all the wrong guys. But not Daxton. A sudden thought hit her. “Do you have a girlfriend?” Alexis asked, facing the burning fireplace. She felt like a complete idiot, used, and it was all her fault. How could I have acted so desperate?
Daxton scratched his head. “Uhm, I’m engaged. And when I saw you, well, I just wanted to make sure I was making the right decision.”
Alexis shot an icy glare at him. “So this was all just a test of your relationship?”
Daxton sat beside her on the bed. “Please don’t be mad. I’m taking a big step in my life, and I just want to make sure that what we had is really over. So I can move on.”
Alexis laughed. She felt like her life had been a perpetual joke lately. There was no ending to her dramas, she thought. “So what did you find out?”
“That I’m ready to be a husband. Nothing against you, but I just had to know. I would have eventually called you—”
“But you decided to fuck me instead,” Alexis said, throwing up her hands.
Mr. Satisfaction Page 20
