by JN Welsh
“It’s okay, Tommy. You can be honest.”
“Unavailable or uninterested in a relationship.”
She twisted her mouth thinking about their interactions and how well they matched. They verbally sparred with ease and their attraction didn’t fizzle but rather grew with each encounter. That alone had been unlike anything she’d experienced in her previous relationships. Something different existed between them. Tommy saw her, and not just one part of her, but all of her parts. Was that why she’d allowed the lines to blur when she was so used to keeping everything in its clearly plotted garden? How could she declare any of this to him with so much at stake for the careers she managed. Was she unavailable? Could she make space for him? Would they be able to work and love together without convoluting their relationship roles?
She swallowed and her heart rate doubled.
“What wrong? You look like you’re being hovered over the edge of Big Sur.”
“Do I?” She licked her lips. Love rolled around through her head like a pinball in the machine, ringing as it hit “hell no” side rails and “what the fuck” bumper caps.
“I’d say you were absolutely petrified.” He stroked her arms. “I didn’t tell you this to freak you out. I just wanted to be honest.”
“Maybe we didn’t think this through all the way.” She stepped closer to him and rested her arms on his waist. His hands glided up over her shoulders to form along the sides of her neck where he continued his divine caress.
“But like you said, all of this is hard to repackage.” His face inched toward hers and she nuzzled her nose against his.
“Maybe—” Her lips grazed his. “We can try to pack it up after...” She didn’t wait for him to pull her to him before she joined their mouths, her tongue licking into the welcoming warmth of his.
“After what, Nyah?” He bit her lower lip.
“While we’re here on this ship, let’s pretend that we want the same things. That this won’t change anything and let’s promise to be honest with each other and realistic about what might or might not be when we get back to our ‘real’ lives.”
“And now...” His hand teased down the front of nightshirt.
“Now you can take me to your bed,” she whispered.
“I thought you were hungry and were going to order a shit ton of room service.”
“I am. It’ll be just the sustenance I need after you fuck me. Don’t you think?”
He licked his lip in that divine way that let her know he wanted to kiss her and she opened to him, for him. He pressed his mouth against hers and released her just as quick. He gave her ass a firm but lingering smack. “Go to my bed, Nyah.”
She did so with him close behind her.
He picked up the cordless room phone and the menu binder and pushed them both toward her. As she ordered room service, he nuzzled her neck and undressed her.
Chapter Twenty
Tommy’s labored breath swirled with Nyah’s as they chased the addictive rise to ecstasy.
“Don’t come yet,” Nyah instructed. “You have to earn that.”
Tommy’s dick felt like a boiling kettle whose steam was about to whistle right through the condom. “Fuck, Nyah.”
“You want to earn it, right?” she cooed. Her limits had been pushed just as much as his as he braced her hips for his movements, grinding his hips with hers and thrusting deep and hard, like she requested.
“Yes. Fuck yes.” He’d do whatever she wanted, including eating dairy and running around the ship naked. Anything to explode in pleasure with her.
“Harder, Tommy. Don’t stop. Don’t you dare fucking stop.” Sweat glistened over her collar bone and a misty pattern covered her chest down to the well between her small breasts. “Yes.
He captured her mouth, mushing his lips into hers, his tongue darting and licking into her heat. “Did I earn it?” he asked.
“Yes.” She huffed.
“Can I come now?”
“Y-y-yes. Tommy, please,” she squealed. “I’m com—” Nyah swallowed her words and twisted and flailed on the bed but he grabbed her and wrapped her arms around his neck, then again locked her hips in his hand as he piston-pumped her pussy. The pressure in him had nowhere to go but out and he released with a shout that vibrated the walls like the bass in Queen Roe’s set earlier.
He gave her everything he had left, pushing into her and holding her, even as the strength left his arms. He held her close to him. She shivered against, shaking out the last spasms of her orgasm.
“Mmm,” she moaned, hugging him.
“How didn’t I know you were a low-key freak?”
“Not so low-key. You forgot about last night already?” she teased. “Plus, where’s the fun in that?” Her nipples hardened against his chest from the air-conditioned room that was too hot not less than a minute ago.
“Hang on,” he said as he lifted her on wobbly legs and brought her up to the top of the bed. His dick softened inside her but he wasn’t ready to separate from her delectable insides. He opened the bed and placed her inside, lying on top of her.
“I don’t want to leave.” He peered down between them even though his body sealed to hers. His statement got a giggle from her and he wanted to capture the sound like she’d blown him a kiss and place it right on his heart.
Nyah stroked his hair with lazy fingers and he flattened one side of his face against her chest. He knew he had to pull out, or what use would the condom be, but fuck if she didn’t feel like home.
He slid out of her with a firm grip on the latex, protecting them, and he couldn’t remember a time when he’d filled the bag so much. “I’ll be back,” he said to her and her outstretched arms. His bare feet thudded toward the bathroom and he handled the condom with care before tossing into a trash bin. He cleaned himself quickly so he could prepare a warm washcloth for her and returned to his comfort spot between her legs, then wiped her pussy and inner thighs with delicate strokes.”
“Thank you,” she said, her voice hoarse and thick with gratitude.
“My pleasure, angel.” She deserved to be cherished from beginning to end. He kissed her inner thigh before rising again and taking care of the washcloth. When he returned, he slipped on his boxer briefs and sat on the edge of the bed, his back to her. He needed a minute to come back down to reality, which got harder and harder every minute more he spent with Nyah, in or out of bed.
She stroked his back and from the movements of her hand he knew she traced the angel wings spanning his back and arms. “Who’s Carmen?” Her soft question punched him in the stomach and air left him as if she physically had.
“My aunt.”
“The same one you mentioned before? The one who drinks her carajillo with Dominican rum?” she asked.
“Yes. Oscar’s mom,” he answered. “She loved seafood, too. I remember our family went to City Island for my high school graduation. There was a ladybug in my mother’s salad and the service was so slow, I could have gone in the kitchen and cooked my family dinner myself. The manager felt bad so we ended up getting a lot of complimentary wine and seafood. Tia Carmen must have eaten a sea of shrimp that night.”
They laughed together at the memory. “She sounds like a lot of fun.”
“She was.” He swallowed hard. “She, uh, passed away that following year.”
Her hands outlined his skin from his neck down to his triceps She kissed one of his shoulders. “I’m sorry, Tommy.”
“Most kids have a best friend their age. Tia Carmen was mine,” he confessed.
She ran her hand over his tattoo, and then turned her body into his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck.
“She taught me so much about life. I mean...nothing was off limits. She never judged me for the questions I asked about work, relationships, sex, and politics. I learned about the kind of man I wanted to be because of her. The kind of ma
n I wanted to be to the women in my life. She listened. I mean really listened to me and the lessons I learned from her, I keep with me. Here.” He touched his heart. “And here.” He pointed to his back. “She’s my guardian angel.”
“That’s really sweet. I’m sure she’s very proud of you from where she is.”
He loved that she spoke of Tia Carmen in the present because that’s how he felt, like his aunt was always with him. “I can see how important and special she is to you.”
“Tell me about yours.” He asked more than stated it as he ran his hand over her left rib. This morning, as she slept, he’d freely ogled her body and the tattoo on her rib in beautiful calligraphy he’d memorized. Failure will never overtake me if my determination to succeed is strong enough. Tell me the reality is better than the dream.
“When I came back and decided to DJ again, I got this.” She stretched her naked body before him. “It was important that I reminded myself in a bigger way than just a mantra or promise. I wanted the words etched into me. I needed to commit to it with more than words.”
“Do you feel like you’ve stuck to your commitment?” he asked with genuine curiosity.
“I do. Don’t get me wrong, I still avoid some venues and festivals that I worry will only result in failure. I’m determined to attack it my way, instead of letting others lead me too far away from the path I want to walk.”
“But you did great today. Isn’t that a step in the right direction?”
He justified the guilt that once again bubbled in his chest.
“What direction is that?” she asked.
He foresaw their conversation quickly derailing. “You tell me.” He threw it back to her.
“Whatever direction I want to go,” she stated.
He slowed his breathing. “I’m willing to help you with that. You don’t have to tackle it all on your own,” he said.
“On my terms,” she reminded him.
He chuckled. “On your terms.” He nuzzled her neck, ready for another round with her, but a low knock on the door interrupted his plans.
“Room service,” a muffled voice called through the door.
He didn’t want to let her go and though her stomach growled several times during their lovemaking, she made no move to get up either. He eased her off him, feeling the reluctance in her arms. “You need to eat.”
She backed up onto the bed and slid her naked body under a sheet while he left to answer the door. He returned with a tray filled with food. He wheeled it into the bedroom and her eyes lit up. She stretched back into her night shirt and skipped to the tray, opening each cover to reveal a different appetizer and entree.
“Dessert’s on the bottom.”
She plucked a mozzarella stick off the appetizer tray and dipped it in marinara sauce before gobbling half the stick in one bite. He took a wing as she took a salad plate and put a few of the different appetizers on it, grabbed a fork and sat cross-legged on the bed. She nestled the plate between her legs.
He uncovered a plate of fried calamari and hovered the plate in front of her. She popped one in her mouth and forked a few more onto her plate.
He sat across from her and ate with her. When she finally came up for air, she gave a deep exhale. “I’m so hungry.”
“Hence why you wanted privacy,” he noted.
“Exactly.” She smiled. “But I don’t care. Mama’s gotta eat.”
He slurped on Clams Casino, the salty goodness of the clam enhanced with the addition of pancetta to the breadcrumbs and tomatoes.
He loved that she ate without reservation. Women in his culture knew how to throw down some food. Nyah also shared a culture where food and family were front and center. Pete hailed from the South and her mother from Ghana and Jamaica, if he remembered correctly.
“You worked up quite an appetite today with that performance. I should have fed you right after, instead of letting those guys buy you all those drinks.” He frowned.
“I was too amped to eat. The drinks were a good choice.” She pointed to the tray. “Can you pass me the salmon eggs Benedict, please?”
He did as she asked and she switched out her greens for the velvety beautiful plate of eggs, salmon and hollandaise sauce on two toasted slices of English muffins. A side of fragrant home fries with onions and peppers rested on the side.
“I got you a burger without cheese and French fries. Also salad. Besides the mozzarella sticks and three cheese mini mac and cheese bites you should be able to eat everything else.
He wanted to wrap this woman in his arms and never let her go. “Thank you.”
“Anytime.” Her features changed from humor to something more intense. “Thank you for sharing Tia Carmen with me.”
“Thank you for listening.” He near choked on the calamari he’d been devouring. Esta mujer es asombrosa. “You were really amazing tonight, Nyah. I’ve seen a lot of performers but you were incredible. Hypnotic.”
“Keep it comin’,” she egged him on.
“No, really. It was an absolute smasher. I bet the fans would agree.
“Every day I’m with you, I see just how amazing you really are.”
She wiped her mouth with a napkin. “Took you long enough.” She winked at him.
“Que modestia.” He laughed. “What modesty,” he translated for her.
“I have my moments.” She covered her mouth as she chomped on savory eggs.
He stared at her for a long time. Adorable and happy, she ate and sucked on her fingers with a half-eaten mini brioche lobster roll on the edge of her plate. For the first time, he thought even though she was his type, maybe she didn’t have to be part of his pattern.
Chapter Twenty-One
Nyah suffocated from Gladys’s hug at practice. “I missed you. I know it wasn’t that long but you’re my philharmonic sweetheart.”
Nyah needed the embrace. Since leaving the ship her skin felt foreign without Tommy against it. Not to mention three more days of not having a club gig or practice and performance for the philharmonic. Being in the familiar setting of the old hall and seeing the other musicians and the stage almost made her weep. “I missed you, too. I’m so glad to be back. Anything gossip-worthy since I been gone?”
“Not really. We’re just wrapping up the season and getting ready for the summer series in the park.” Nyah knew all too well the scramble that the musicians who didn’t have anything lined up for the summer underwent to find gigs to keep their skills sharp and supplement their income. “Oh and word on the street is that CeCe is making her decision about the symphony within the next two weeks. We should probably hear a yay or nay soon.”
Nyah crossed her fingers at Gladys. “I hope you get it.”
“I hope you do too,” They touched crossed fingers. “Hey, I saw you’re playing at Artistique. Why didn’t you tell me?”
Nyah stared and blinked, then blinked and stared. “What?”
“What the fuck is wrong with you? Artistique, with Trinidad? You okay?”
Nyah’s relief had to be visible. “Yeah, I’m great. It’s no big deal.”
“It’s not a big deal that you are doing a classical fusion set with an eclectic Californian artist? Nyah?”
“I wasn’t sure they’d let me in.” Nyah had been so focused on getting in to DJ as Queen Roe that she almost forgot Trinidad had asked her to do a classical improv piece with him. The brain fart was highly unlike her, but she recovered. “I only found out right before the cruise.”
“Oh. How was the cruise?” Gladys winked so hard her eyelashes tangled. “You know you have to give me every detail. Okay, maybe not every detail. Keep it high level with a dash of dirty.”
“Gladys!” Nyah laughed. “We had fun.”
Her friend put her hand on her narrow hips. “That’s all you’re going to give me? Stop it.”
“We got to
know each other better, we dined, met some really interesting people and that’s all.” This might be the best time for Nyah to break the news to Gladys that Tommy was just a friend, but the word didn’t feel right anymore. During the cruise, he’d become much more. As much as the thought unsettled her, it comforted her as well.
“Liar. Your pants are smokin,’ bitch. Come on. Just a crumb?”
“He was great.” Nyah fluttered her eyebrows.
Gladys clenched her chest. “He rocked your world, didn’t he?”
Nyah neither confirmed nor denied.
“He looks like he has porno swag, you know? Freaky deaky?” Gladys laughed.
“Okay, that’s all. Let’s not talk about this again.” Nyah pressed the back of her hand to her hot face.
“Wow. He really worked you over. Look at you.” Now doubled in laughter, Gladys’s body swayed when Nyah pushed at her shoulder.
“You can stop now.” Nyah looked around. “For real. Before people start looking at us weird.”
“Congratulations,” Gladys said. “Now I can tell you that Evan and I made out last Saturday.”
“What?” Nyah exclaimed.
“Let’s get started,” Martin’s voice interrupted at a key point in their conversation. One that Nyah would never forgive. “Welcome back, Nyah.”
“Thank you, Martin. It’s good to be back.” Nyah’s eyes threw flames at her friend’s back as she moved to percussions. Gladys even had the nerve to smirk at her.
“I got you,” Nyah mouthed.
“Let’s start with Tchaikovsky, Symphony no. 6, ‘Pathétique’.”
One of the symphonies that changed the world. Nyah organized her sheet music and followed along with Martin’s notes on the piece. Movement after movement they played and she settled into the piece like her favorite cozy chair. At that moment she vowed never to fuck up with Martin again. She loved being here, playing her bass with other musicians in this collaborative way, but she had a second equally important love, deejaying at Rebel. With Nyah’s performances Friday through Sunday, she wouldn’t play at the underground club until the next week.
