Lover Man

by Geneva Holliday

  They lay there for a while kissing as she slid her hand up and down his engorged member until Deeka hoisted himself up on top of her. “Wait, baby,” Geneva said, biting her lower lip. She had something special she wanted to do to him tonight.

  “What?” Deeka’s face was perplexed.

  Geneva was a little embarrassed and she turned her head away from his questioning eyes.

  “C’mon, girl, what?”

  She had recently become a fan of Shenelody Miller, an erotic novelist whose books were selling in the millions all around the world.

  Geneva had discovered her quite by accident when a woman had left her copy of Pussy Bandits on the seat beside Geneva in the dentist’s office. Geneva could have called her back, but she found the title so captivating that she chose not to.

  She was the only person in the waiting area and so nobody saw her slip the book discreetly into her handbag.

  On her way home she was so engrossed that she missed her stop on the train. She’d never read someone who wrote so openly and unrestrainedly about the sexual act. And she couldn’t remember ever reading something that left her so flushed and more surprisingly wet between the legs.

  Now she would do something to Deeka that, before she discovered Shenelody Miller, she probably would never have considered.

  “Turn around,” she whispered.

  Deeka cocked his head to one side; he didn’t quite understand. “What?”

  “Turn around.”

  “I don’t—”

  Geneva sat up and began positioning Deeka the way she needed him to be.

  “Geneva, what the—”

  “Shhh.”

  Deeka found himself on all fours, his behind pointed directly in Geneva’s face.

  Geneva took a deep breath and parted Deeka’s tight cheeks.

  “Baby, I—”

  “Shhhh, I said,” Geneva warned, and swatted him playfully on his backside.

  Geneva leaned in, took a sniff. It still smelled like ass. Even the peppermint soap couldn’t mask that smell. But she knew it was clean. They’d taken a shower together and she’d scrubbed him there herself. Had scrubbed so thoroughly that Deeka had slapped her hand away and said, “I think it’s as clean as it’s going to get, ’Neva.”

  Luckily, the bedroom was dark. She might have chickened out if she’d been able to see his brown anus staring her squarely in the eye.

  Taking his penis in her hands she began stroking it, long, even strokes from the base to the tip. Deeka happily rocked to and fro on his knees. When Geneva felt that Deeka could get no harder, she took a deep breath and leaned in.

  She flicked her tongue, the tip barely brushing the puckered brown skin, but that was enough to cause Deeka to freeze with surprise. Still, Geneva hadn’t missed the soft groan that escaped his lips.

  Confident now, she slathered his anus with her tongue. Deeka began to quiver and then to all-out shake until his movements became electric. “Oh, Geneva, oh, Geneva,” he rapidly chanted.

  Geneva’s tongue darted in, out and around his anus as she steadily stroked his penis. She could feel the sheet moving beneath her legs as Deeka gathered fistfuls of the fabric, struggling with the mind-bending pleasure she was giving him.

  When he could hold back no longer, he raised his head and howled into the darkness before splattering the sheets with his hot seed and collapsing into a quivering, panting mess.

  9

  They were having a family day. The first one in two months. Neville had been in England with his new cash cow, some blond-haired woman with big tits who owned two brothels, one in London and one in Madrid.

  For the most part, he’d stopped discussing his work with Crystal. In the beginning she’d seemed cool with what he did and was eager to know the details about his clients. But lately she’d become cold and distant when he happened to stumble upon the subject.

  Now they were sitting on the beach, watching their son, Javid, run to and from the water’s edge. There’d been very little conversation between them, and Neville suspected Crystal had something serious on her mind.

  “Hey,” he said as he playfully slapped at Crystal’s hand. “A penny for your thoughts.”

  Crystal briefly pulled her eyes away from her son, allowing them to rest on Neville’s face. Gosh, she thought, Javid looked so much like him.

  “Nothing,” she mumbled, turning her attention back to Javid.

  Neville picked up a handful of sand and then allowed it to sift slowly from inside his clenched palm. “It’s something, I can tell. Since when did we start keeping secrets from each other?”

  Crystal sighed. She wanted so much to tell him about her plans to leave the island and take Javid with her, but she just couldn’t find the nerve to.

  Her heart had grown hard against Neville and it wasn’t his fault. It was all Crystal and the new man in her life.

  A. Claude Justine.

  The man she’d met at the Laura and Daniel Rubenstein wedding. It was crazy, the feelings she had developed for this man in such a short period of time.

  The weatherman had called for thunderstorms late in the afternoon, which was the exact time the Rubenstein wedding was supposed to begin. Crystal had said a special prayer asking God to hold off the rain at least until after the bride and groom had said their “I do’s.”

  When Crystal arrived at Laura’s hotel suite at the Jumby Bay Resort, she could immediately tell from the strained look on Laura’s face that she’d heard the weather report as well.

  Laura’s face was a mix of dismay and disappointment as her blue eyes swung from Crystal’s face to the cloudless sky on the opposite side of the sliding glass doors.

  Crystal was tempted to yank the curtains shut, but instead she grabbed the anxious bride by her wrists, looked straight into her eyes, and said: “God and I had a talk this morning, and he has assured me that everything is going to be lovely.”

  It took a moment, but the anxious expression on Laura’s face began to fade. “Really?” she whispered in a small voice.

  Crystal had nodded her head and given her a confident smile.

  In the end, the storm that was headed their way fizzled out over the island of St. Vincent.

  Crystal, who was standing on the deck of the yacht watching the sky for storm clouds, received the good news from the first mate. She thanked the young man and then tilted her head toward the heavens once again and whispered, “Thanks, God, I owe you one.”

  “Who are you talking to?” A silky voice floated to her from her left. Crystal turned around and came face to face with a tall, creamy colored brother with hazel eyes.

  Her own eyes popped with surprise. She’d noticed the gentleman earlier, not just because he was tall and gorgeous and was sporting a powder-blue linen suit (not many men could pull that off), but also because his date was a little girl who looked just like him.

  “Oh.” Crystal smiled and then pointed to the aqua-colored sky. “God.”

  The gentleman cast a brief glance at the sky, but it was clear where he preferred to look. His gaze was penetrating, and Crystal felt herself begin to blush.

  “A. Claude Justine,” he said, offering his hand. Crystal couldn’t help but notice the perfectly manicured fingernails and how beautifully the heavy gold link bracelet sparkled against his wrist.

  She took his hand in hers. “Crystal Atkins. What does the A stand for?”

  “Oh,” he murmured as he took her hand in his. “That is something I only share with people I feel that I can place my life in their hands and know that they won’t disappoint me.”

  What a line! Crystal thought to herself as she repressed the urge to roll her eyes.

  “So are you called CJ for short?”

  Claude made a face. “CJ is a player’s name, a womanizer.” He laughed. “Everything I’m not.”

  Crystal didn’t know how to take that. So she said nothing.

  “Crystal Atkins, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” he continued, and then bent and press
ed the softest kiss onto the back of her hand.

  Crystal was instantly intrigued. “Same here.” She beamed.

  He was just staring at her. It was certainly flattering, but it was also making her nervous.

  “I—”

  “So—”

  They’d both started to speak at the same time. “I’m sorry, please, you were saying?” Claude said.

  Crystal cleared her throat. “I was going to ask you where your adorable date was?”

  Claude smiled proudly, giving Crystal an unobstructed view of his teeth, which were straight and even. Crystal was a sucker for beautiful teeth.

  “Yes, my princess,” he said, looking off into the reception area. “My daughter, Kayla. She’s three and a half years old.”

  “She’s gorgeous and such a little lady.”

  “Thank you. Do you have any children?”

  “Yes, one son. Javid. He’s two years old.”

  “Javid …” Claude mused. “Powerful name.”

  “I’ve never heard it described that way before. Thank you.”

  “Do you and your husband plan on having any more children?”

  Crystal cast a thoughtful look at her hands. “No …” Her words faded into the air.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”

  “Oh no,” Crystal said, her voice regaining its spark. “Javid … his father … Neville. Well, we’re not married.”

  Crystal didn’t know why she suddenly felt ashamed.

  “Well, hell.” Claude laughed. “It’s not the dark ages anymore.”

  Crystal grinned. “Yeah, thank goodness for that.”

  “Plenty of women choose single parenthood.”

  Crystal nodded her head in agreement. “So how about you? Is Kayla your only child?”

  “Yes she is.”

  “And you and your wife want more children?”

  Claude’s face turned a little sad. “My wife died during childbirth.”

  Crystal’s heart fell into her stomach. “Oh my goodness, Claude, I’m so sorry—”

  “Please, please,” he said, taking Crystal’s hand in his again. “Don’t be. God had a plan. I can’t say that I quite understand it, but what am I to do?”

  Crystal wanted to wrap her arms around him and make the hurt go away. But instead, she placed her free hand over his and said, “That he does. That he does.”

  They spent the rest of the evening talking. It was refreshing in a way she couldn’t explain. She and Neville always had great conversations, but because he’d moved from the U.S.A. at such a young age, there were certain aspects of American life he’d missed.

  Claude had grown up in the Crown Heights section of Brooklyn and had played and misbehaved in some of the same places Crystal had.

  They laughed and laughed about the ever-present Original Gangster who could always be found at the Red Parrot dance club on Friday nights, dressed in his red and orange Super Fly suit, complete with platform shoes and felt hat.

  And the nights spent roaming the streets of Greenwich Village and people-watching in Washington Square Park.

  At one point in the conversation Claude had stopped and looked deep into Crystal’s eyes and said, “Gosh, girl, we probably crossed paths with each other a million times and it took all of these years and an island wedding for us to meet!”

  “It’s like that sometimes.” Crystal grinned.

  She found out that he was in business for himself. What business, she still wasn’t quite clear on, but it seemed he bought and sold stock, real estate, and small companies.

  They danced to old-school hits like “Flashlight” and “Love Is the Message.” Laughed their way through two versions of the Electric Slide and briefly joined a conga line before Claude looked at his watch and said, “Crystal, this is the most fun I’ve had in a long, long time, but I have an early flight tomorrow and,” he said, pointing toward Kayla, who was fast asleep with her head resting on a table, “I have to get the princess to bed.”

  Crystal felt deflated. She wished the night could go on and on. “Of course, I understand.”

  She didn’t have anyone to rush home to. Javid was staying the night with his father.

  “I would love to keep in touch,” Claude said, pulling his BlackBerry from his jacket pocket.

  Crystal wanted to see him again too, not that she thought that would happen in the near future. After all, she lived in Antigua and he lived in New Jersey.

  She rattled off her home and cell number as well as her e-mail address. “It was a pleasure,” Claude said before he leaned over and planted a gentle kiss on her cheek.

  “Same here,” she said, and as a second thought wrapped her arms around his back, giving him a tight embrace.

  For two weeks she thought about Claude day and night, replaying every word, every breath, every time he’d touched her hand, shoulder, or waist. That’s all she had to live on because she hadn’t heard a word. Not a call, text or e-mail.

  So on the fourteenth day she decided she would not allow herself to have one more thought about him and wrote his name on a piece of paper, crumbled it, dropped it into the toilet and flushed him, that night and those feelings away.

  Just as she was walking out of the bathroom, her cell began to vibrate. She looked at its glass face and didn’t recognize the number. She started to let the call go to voice mail, but then answered, “Hello?”

  “Hey, girl!”

  Crystal wasn’t sure she knew the voice. “H-hello. This is Crystal Atkins, who’s this?”

  “This is who?”

  “Crystal Atkins?”

  “Ahh, sorry. Wrong number,” the woman said and abruptly hung up.

  Shrugging her shoulders, Crystal set the phone down on the kitchen table and opened the refrigerator. It was time to fix some lunch for herself and Javid. She pulled out a bowl of salad and some raw fish that had been marinating since the morning.

  The cell phone began to vibrate. Picking it up, she saw that it was the unknown number again. This time she’d ask the woman what number she was dialing, “Hello, it’s Crystal Atkins again. What number are you trying to reach?”

  “I was trying to reach this number, Crystal Atkins, and apparently I’ve been successful.” Claude chuckled from the other end.

  Crystal’s face broke into a grin and she jumped up and down in the middle of the kitchen. “Claude?”

  “The very same.”

  Crystal balled her fist and punched it triumphantly above her head. “So nice to hear from you,” she said in a calm, cool, and collected voice.

  “I want to apologize for not calling sooner, but I was in Madrid on business and—”

  “Oh, I understand. I’ve actually been quite busy myself.” That was a lie. Her schedule had been wide open, and she and Javid had been spending their days on the beach.

  “Well, good for you. Listen, I wanted to know if you were free for dinner tomorrow night?”

  Crystal pulled the phone away from her ear, surely she’d heard wrong. “I’m sorry, did you say dinner?”

  “Yes, you know that meal that comes at the end of the day? Or do Americans living in Antigua call it something else?”

  “But, but—”

  “Is that a yes or a no?”

  “Yes, I’m free, but I don’t understand—”

  “A gentleman named Oscar will pick you up, say around five, and please feel free to bring your son, I would love to meet him. Okay, Crystal, I gotta jump. See you tomorrow.”

  Javid walked into the kitchen ten minutes later to find his mother still standing in the middle of the floor staring at her cell phone.

  Claude Justine, thousands of miles away in America, had, over the past few months, been more than attentive. Two calls a day and text messages in between those, just to say hello or wish her a blessed day. A bouquet of exotic flowers delivered to her door every Sunday morning, and then there were the letters, long, lovely letters expressing his intense feelings for her.

  The lette
rs were her favorite. For her, it was a return to the romantic, something that had been tossed aside in the age of e-mail and text messaging.

  Just thinking about him made her swoon. She couldn’t imagine how her feelings for Claude would escalate once they’d made love.

  Crystal had decided a long time ago that if she was to become involved with another man, she would wait, for as long as possible, before she’d give herself to him. She wanted to be sure. And now she was.

  Neville was searching her face, waiting for an answer.

  “Really,” she said, pulling herself up and brushing at the sand that clung to the back of her legs. “It’s nothing,” she reiterated as she started across the sand and toward Javid, who’d moved dangerously close to the water’s edge.

  10

  “Did I hear you right?”

  “Yep!”

  Geneva stared into the computer screen. Crystal grinned back.

  “Well, I’ve got to say when you first mentioned this guy I wasn’t sure … but I gotta say, girl, you look happy as shit.”

  Crystal felt herself decompress. Her decision was finally being met with some sort of joy. When she’d advised her mother of her plans, Peyton hadn’t seemed too happy with her daughter’s decision.

  “Something’s just not right about passing yourself off from man to man, Crystal.”

  “But Ma, I—”

  “I know, you love him.” Peyton had sighed.

  “I do love him. But that’s not what I was going to say. I was going to say that it’s not like that. I’m not passing myself off from man to man.”

  “Whatever you say, darling. I’m your mother and I’m going to love you regardless. I guess I’ll see you and your new gentleman friend when you get back stateside,” she’d said before bidding her goodbye.

  Thank God, Geneva wasn’t coming from the same perspective.

  “I am, I am!” Crystal screeched happily.

  Geneva leaned back into the leather office chair. “I don’t know, girl, don’t you think you might be moving a little too fast? Living together is a big step, especially for people who’ve been dating long distance. I mean, really, Crystal, spending time with one another on a Caribbean island every other weekend and being up in each other’s face twenty-four-seven is something altogether different.”