Lust

by Victoria Christopher Murray

  I chuckled at that thought, but then got serious real quick. Because sleeping was the only challenge in my life. Those were the hours when I couldn’t keep Trey away. When my eyes were open, I could fight.

  Resist the devil and he will flee!

  The words from my grandfather’s sermon became my mantra, and the mantra was working. I’d kept my mind and my time filled with so many tasks, so much cooking, so much attention to my husband, there was little room for Trey to slither into my thoughts. Trey crept into my unconscious, though, and took over that time and space, invading my dreams, forcing me to relive and remember.

  But even though every morning I awakened feeling as if I’d spent the night with Trey, I was sure those dreams would go away. Especially if I never saw Trey again. Never saw him, never talked to him.

  I didn’t even know if he was still in DC, though I assumed that he was not. It had been more than a week since . . . I sighed. But Damon hadn’t mentioned him. And I certainly wasn’t going to ask. I didn’t want my husband to mistake my question for an invitation to set up a lunch or dinner with the three of us.

  But they were best friends, and surely, if Trey were still in the city, Damon would have said something, would have made some kind of arrangements to get together with his boy. So my assumption, which was really more of a hope, was that he was gone. And if he was gone, then my temptation was gone, too.

  “Hey,” Damon said as he palmed my butt through my satin cover-up.

  As gently as I could, I laid aside the eyelashes I was just about to apply, then turned around, making sure that the beltless robe I wore was all the way open (on purpose) before I wrapped my arms around my husband’s neck. I didn’t blink when I said, “You want some more of this?”

  His eyes settled on my blush-colored push-up bra and barely-there thong. “Why are you doing this to me, woman?” he moaned.

  “What?”

  He shook his head. “You’re incorrigible and you’re insatiable.”

  “Only for you.” With my teeth, I nibbled on his bottom lip and as he moaned, in my mind I replayed my half-lie, though I preferred to think of what I’d said as almost-the-truth. I was insatiable and it was because of him. Because all of my efforts and all of my hope were wrapped up in my expectation and my anticipation that there would be one time when Damon could make me feel the way Trey did. Every time I got close to my husband, I was in search of that moment. It hadn’t happened yet, but my hope stayed alive.

  After a few more moans, Damon stepped away, though I could tell he didn’t want to. “Okay, bae. We’ve gotta get out of here.” Glancing down at his watch, he added, “I’m ready to leave now, I can give you fifteen minutes.”

  I shook my head. “There’s no way. I won’t be ready.” Right before he released a sigh, I added, “I need a little more time to be fabulous.”

  Even though he shook his head, I could tell he wasn’t really all that annoyed. “I told you what time we had to be there.”

  “I know.” I turned back to the mirror. “But I got home later than I wanted to. Remember . . . the windows at the spa. Remember . . . they came in today.”

  “Oh yeah, right. Did they replace them all?”

  I secured one of the eyelashes and said, “Every single one. And, like I promised, without a dollar added to our budget.”

  His lips twitched into a slow grin. “Well, I guess I can’t be mad at my baby for taking care of business like that.”

  Turning around, I looked up at my husband through the eyelashes I’d just applied. “No, you can’t be.”

  “Okay,” he said with a sigh. “I’ll send Magic back for you.”

  I shook my head. “That’s crazy. You need all hands on deck at the club; I know it’ll be a madhouse. I can Uber over, and then tonight”—I encircled him again, this time wrapping my arms around his waist—“you can send Magic on his way, and as you drive us home, I’ll do all kinds of freaky things to you right there in the car.”

  He agreed with a kiss that was filled with a moan and I laughed as he walked backward away from me. “Okay, I’m outta here.”

  I blew him a kiss, then turned back to the vanity. I heard Damon trotting down the stairs as I applied foundation, and as I brushed on the finishing powder, I heard the chug of the garage door lifting and then, a few moments later, closing.

  Not even a minute passed before I heard the doorbell. I frowned, then sighed. What in the world had Damon forgotten?

  I dashed down the stairs, swung open the door, began with, “What did—” and finished by taking two steps back. It was reflex that made me do that, because if I’d had a single wit about me, I would have moved forward and slammed the door closed.

  But the shock of seeing Trey made me back up. “What . . . what are you doing here?”

  He gave me a half-shrug, stepped over the threshold, and closed the door behind him. “What do you think I’m doing here?” In the moment when he paused, his eyes took a slow stroll up, then down my body, and even as I clutched my robe to close it with my hands, I felt myself warm. He did that lip-licking thing that made my heart stop mid-beat before he said, “I’m looking for Damon. Is he here?”

  I only had a moment, but all kinds of lies passed through my mind. I could say that Damon was upstairs . . . in the shower. But I decided on “He just called. He’s on his way home. He’ll be here any minute.”

  Trey didn’t even give me time to finish before he chuckled. “Is that why I just saw him driving away?”

  My eyes narrowed, even as I gripped my robe tighter. “You’re stalking us?”

  He shook his head. “Nope, I just happened to be coming down the street while Damon was going the other way. I really did come here to see him, but now . . .” More staring, more lip-licking. “It’s good to see you, Tiff.”

  My legs trembled, my heart banged, and I remembered. That was the worst part. Remembering made me feel, and my body was ready for him again. It was like I had no control over the wanting, it was like I was drowning in the yearning that took over every time I was around him. But I kept my voice as steady as I could when I said, “You need to leave.”

  He took a step forward. “I can’t because I’ve missed you.” Another step forward.

  I matched his forward steps with my own moving the other way. I trembled, though I wasn’t convinced that it was out of fear; I shook because I remembered the last time. “No.” I closed my eyes as if that would make him disappear.

  “What do you mean no?”

  My eyes were still closed, even as I backed up, even as I felt him moving closer. “No.”

  He said, “I can’t figure out why you keep saying that. What are you denying me?”

  I stopped moving, but only because my back was against the wall. Now I had to open my eyes, and he was right there. His eyes, dark, seductive. But though it was his eyes that had first captured me, at this moment it was those lips that took every bit of my sense away.

  He leaned in so close there was no room for air between us. “I want you.” With just a shift of his head, his lips grazed my ears. “I want you the way I had you the other day.”

  Oh, God!

  “I loved the way you trembled beneath me. I want to do that to you again.”

  Oh, God!

  “And I want you to do it to me. Can you make me do that, Tiff? Can you make me tremble that way?”

  My eyes were open but lowered. I didn’t have enough courage to look at him, but I had enough strength to say, “Please just leave; I need you to leave.”

  “And what I need is to finally have you. It’s my turn, Tiff. That’s what you want, right? That’s what you’ve wanted all along.”

  His words, his scent, the memory of his lips . . . I wanted him. God help me, but he was right. From the moment I’d met him . . . he was right.

  His eyes were on mine as he peeled my fingers
from my robe. When it fell open, we both gasped.

  I watched him study me. I saw him appreciate me. “You’re so fine.”

  Just the way he looked at me took me to the edge, but I didn’t stay there. I fell off when he pressed his lips against mine. And then when he traced his finger down the center of my chest down to my belly, I started falling, falling further, and I knew then that no one and nothing would ever bring me back.

  I was trying to think about what I was doing, the mistake that I was making, but it was hard to focus on anything beyond the single objective that clogged my mind—I wanted this man. All of him. I had no other purpose in life.

  I’d fought the fight, but I’d lost. And now I was a willing loser, who could wait no longer. I parted my lips and welcomed his tongue inside. And the moment our tongues connected, the air filled with moans that blended into a lustful fusion of melody and harmony. He raised my arms above my head and pinned me against the wall. I felt helpless and hopeful.

  And then a thought pierced through my lust.

  Resist the devil and he will flee.

  My eyelids fluttered at the mantra that had been saving me, but as quickly as the mantra came, it was gone. Because I couldn’t hold on to it, not with the way Trey’s hand caressed my skin, setting every inch of me on fire.

  Resist the devil and he will flee.

  I wanted to conjure up more of my grandfather’s words so that I could do the right thing, but I couldn’t remember anything.

  Except.

  Me.

  Spread-eagle.

  Waiting.

  Wanting.

  The anticipation.

  The expectation.

  That.

  Feeling.

  Trey pulled me away from the wall, swung me around, and slipped the robe from my body. By the time he pushed me down on the stairs, he’d unhooked my bra and was moaning as my breasts filled his hands. I was the one who moaned when he pressed his body on top of mine. And then I had new thoughts.

  These stairs.

  With Damon.

  Damon.

  My husband.

  No!

  Beneath Trey’s kisses and caresses, I heard my mantra again. Only this time, it wasn’t my voice . . . it was Damon’s.

  Resist the devil and he will flee.

  I raised my hands and with my full force, I pushed Trey away. He stumbled backward and stared down at me.

  Trey’s breath was as heavy as mine; he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. But his lips spread into a grin as he took in the sight of me. I imagined how I looked: breathing as if I’d been drowning and was just getting my first gasps of air . . . and naked except for a few inches of satin thong.

  I sat and he stood. All I could think about was how much I wanted this man. But there was something that I wanted even more.

  Damon.

  Trey took a step toward me.

  I said, “I need you to leave.”

  His grin told me no.

  Jumping up, I only had to take about four steps to the console table and grab the phone. Holding up the landline, I said to Trey, “Leave now.”

  His eyes narrowed as he studied the phone . . . and then turned his gaze to my body. I prayed that he couldn’t see the heat that rose within me. After a few seconds, he said, “You don’t want me to go.”

  My body trembled. “Yes, I do.”

  He chuckled. “You know you want this; you know you want what I’m about to give you.”

  Resist the devil and he will flee.

  It was Damon’s voice again.

  I said, “I want you to go.”

  I understood why he took the next step toward me, I understood why he didn’t believe me. That’s why I pressed 9 on the phone, making sure he saw me.

  He paused. “Tiff?” Now there was more confusion than certainty in his tone.

  “Leave,” I said. Now there was more determination in mine.

  This time he didn’t take another step; this time he unbuckled his belt, and my eyes went to the bulge between his legs, the bulge that could be between mine. That was his point, I guess.

  Lord, you have to deliver me from this evil.

  This time it was my voice and my prayer. I pressed 1 on the number pad.

  I said, “If you don’t leave now, the police will be on their way.” I added, for both Trey and myself, “I mean it. One more step and I’ll finish the call.”

  It still took him a few moments, but he backed up as if he finally believed me. He squinted as he fastened his belt, frowning, even though his eyes still scanned my body. I wanted to run to my robe, to cover up. But I had to stay still and focus on only one move. The next move had to be making this call—or else my marriage, my life as I knew it would be over.

  As he stared, I glared, even more determined now than ­before—if he took a step or a thought toward me, I was going to press the last number.

  After a few more moments of this standoff, Trey backed up all the way up. His eyes stayed on mine until he reached the door. Then he spun around and, without a word, stepped outside.

  It was only a few steps, but I ran like a track star, slammed my body against the door, then clicked both locks before I turned around and leaned against it. My heart was racing as if I’d just been in a battle and my body was weary as if I’d fought hard. When my legs could no longer hold me, I slid against the door until my butt hit the floor and pulled my legs to my chest.

  “Oh, my God.” I was filled with such a jumble of emotions: fear, longing, shock, determination. The important thing was, though, I hadn’t succumbed to the temptation. For the first time, I hadn’t given in.

  But there was the shame of it, too. I’d wanted it and had come so close to having sex with Trey. Damon’s best friend. In our house. Disrespecting my husband in a trio of ways.

  But I hadn’t. I resisted the devil and he’d fled.

  When the phone rang, it startled me so much I dropped it, forgetting that I still held it. Picking the receiver up, I glanced at the caller ID and closed my eyes. I didn’t want to answer. But I had to.

  I inhaled the deepest of breaths and then exhaled. “Damon.”

  “Bae. Where are you? I’ve been calling your cell.”

  “I was . . . I was . . .”

  “Come on, Tiff. You’re not ready yet?”

  “I’m ready, Damon,” I said, even as I sat on the floor just about naked. “I will be there really soon.”

  “Okay,” he said. I could hear the disappointment in his tone. “It’s already started and I’d wanted to walk the red carpet with you.”

  “Soon, I promise,” I said. “And Damon.” After a pause, I added, “I love you so much.”

  When he said, “I love you, bae,” I heard the smile in his voice. And all I could do was pray that when I got to the club, there’d be no tears in my eyes.

  34

  Tiffanie

  I wanted to focus on my victory, but the guilt was like a five-hundred-pound boulder anchored to my heart. And the guilt was heavier when partnered with thoughts of Trey, making me wonder if he would be here tonight.

  I hadn’t considered that before, having talked myself into believing that he was back in Atlanta. But since he was still in DC, that meant he could very well show up tonight. I kept trying to tell myself no, he wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t come to Damon’s event, not after what he’d tried to do with Damon’s wife. But that was the kind of thinking that was not only wishful but stupid. When had hooking up with his boy’s wife ever stopped Trey? The last time, he’d left me withering on my desk and had gone straight to our home to hang out with Damon.

  So I braced myself for seeing him, but I was putting every precaution in place. I had to make sure that Trey couldn’t get close to me. I didn’t want him in the same zip code, but while I couldn’t
control that, I would be able to keep him out of my personal space. I wasn’t going to give that devil a single chance.

  Checking my location on the Uber app, I texted Damon:

  I’m about 3 minutes away.

  A second later, his text came back:

  Magic’s on his way out.

  I knew that would be his response and I sighed with relief; I was safe, at least from Trey. I couldn’t tell from his text if Damon was annoyed. He probably was; I was arriving almost ninety minutes after his call. I couldn’t help it, though—that’s how long it had taken me to try to wash my sins away. I had planted myself inside the shower, scrubbing away the dirt deep inside my pores. What I hadn’t known was that there wasn’t a body scrub strong enough to get rid of the stench of shame.

  It was a mistake, Tiffanie.

  That’s what I told myself then, and that’s what I kept telling myself now. It was hard to convince myself, though. How many times was I going to call it a mistake? The first time, yes. The second time, maybe. But the third time? What was that cliché about three strikes?

  As the driver slowed in front of DC After Dark, I closed my eyes and prayed once again for God’s forgiveness and for Him to save me from the churning in my stomach that filled me with such foreboding. When I opened my eyes, I wanted to tell the driver to take me home. I’d make up some lie to tell Damon. But before I could figure it out, Magic was at the car’s door, opening it, then reaching inside for my hand.

  He was here to take me to my man.

  Though the event had started almost two hours ago, the crowd hanging outside behind the red velvet ropes was thick with people holding up cell phones poised and ready to capture pictures of any late-arriving celebrities. There was still a long line to enter the club, but the sea of people parted as Magic walked through and led me inside to dim lights and music bumping off the walls.

  Now, Damon and I were old-school connoisseurs, but we could get down to today’s beats, too, and so could the folks on the dance floor. There in the center was my girl, Sonia. A small group had formed around her and her husband, Allen, but Sonia wouldn’t have noticed because her eyes were closed as her arms were raised high above her head. She gyrated to the music and sang along with Kent Jones: