Love Delayed

by Love Belvin

  When he moved in again; I threw my hands up to the back of his head, feeling the soft and natural curls of his mane, meeting him half way, and my tongue was in his mouth before he could think about changing his mind. I didn’t go straight for his teeth, I went for his tongue. It was sweet like nectar and agile like the neck of a heron. I wanted more of it. And I took it, liberally.

  There was a strong spurring sound that hurled from the back of his throat and even that tossed into my mouth deliciously.

  “Yo, Rogers!” I heard in the distance, but didn’t allow it to interrupt my sensual and explorative adventure. “We gotta roll!”

  Hearing that reminded me of his impending departure. It was then that I used my tongue to inspect his teeth, but no longer questioning the realness of them, just not wanting to leave an inch of his mouth undiscovered.

  I don’t know who pulled away first. I only understood neither one of us wanted to. My breathing was ragged, and Stenton’s composure mangled. He thumbed his bottom lip as he looked out into the distance. When his eyes returned to me they were sharp, piercing with preoccupancy. He didn’t say anything when he walked off.

  I stood there dazed for moments long, not understanding what had just taken place. It wasn’t until I realized the headlights from his truck were still illuminating the dark corner of the parking lot where I stood that I grasped they were waiting on me to safely get into my car before pulling off. So I did. I managed to move my aching body over to my Kia Rio and pull off.

  On the way home, my phone chirped. When I stopped at the next light I checked the text.

  Stenton: What’s your assessment?

  Me: Of what?

  Stenton: My teeth.

  Oh! Those! That trivial curiosity paled in comparison to the real discovery of how great a kisser Stenton was. I’d never felt anything like that. At the next light I returned his text.

  Me: I guess they’re real. You rich people can afford good cosmetic procedures.

  Stenton: Well I guess we’re even.

  Me: How so?

  Stenton: Because your boobs are perfect in size and feel good as hell against my abs and chest.

  Just when I thought my already sodden panties could endure no more liquefaction, I felt increased moisture down below. My breasts felt heavier in their holdings, too. This is insane! I waited until I arrived home to respond. I didn’t know how to.

  Me: Ummm… Thanks?

  Stenton: LMAO! GN Nina.

  ~~~~~~~~~~

  Days later, I heard a ping from my phone. I reached over to the bathroom sink as Ruth stood over me while I was squatting on the lip of the tub. It was from Stenton.

  Stenton: What are you doing?

  I typed back: Just got my hair pressed out by my sissy.

  Stenton: I wanna see.

  I quickly snapped a picture and sent it: Cheese!

  He didn’t respond right away. Why was I getting so nervous? I wore a maroon long sleeve cotton shirt. But it had no holes; just a house shirt. Still, I buzzed with nervous energy, awaiting his response.

  We’d been texting back and forth, intimately, and sometimes topics got deep. Deep…not necessarily in a sensual nature, but about our pasts, our fears and our ambitions. So when texts like this came through, it wasn’t odd.

  Then I heard a chirp.

  Stenton: But what’s up with the shirt tho?

  Me: Shut up! What are you doing?

  Stenton: Getting ready to workout.

  Me: Send me a pic…

  Stenton: Blah

  Then his picture came through. It was just his face. He hid his eyes, which robbed me of so much. There were so many things I experienced when looking through them. So much he tried to hide from the world.

  Me: You’re whack…

  I replied, but cunningly, not for the reason I wanted him to believe. My dig was because of him not giving me more. More of what I’d been growing attached to. Him. The real Stenton Rogers.

  Stenton: Yeah…yeah…yeah! Chat lata…

  ~~~~~~~~~~

  “You just can’t do it.”

  “Why?” Angela yelled at me from her sofa. Her nostrils were flared and cheeks red.

  “You know why, Ang,” Karen sighed. She was fragile and had less stamina in this stage of her pregnancy.

  But not me.

  “Yeah, you do, but in case you don’t want to remember, it’s because it is a lie, and for us Christians, lying is a sin. I know you’ve been upset about Timmy cheating on you with that girl, but you need to forgive him and move on.”

  “Move on?” Angela jumped from the couch as she yelped. Good thing her parents weren’t home and we could hash this out without alarming them.

  “Yes! Move on, whether that means be with him or move on without him, you must start with forgiving him.”

  “Forgiving him for cheating on me?”

  “Yes! We’ve all done wrong, Ang. And I’m inclined to believe you would’ve moved on with Stenton Rogers this summer even if things were good between you and Timmy.”

  “Oooh…” Karen cupped her mouth. She knew I was right. The elasticity in Angela’s panties were worn. They never stayed up.

  “You sound ridiculous. I would have never done that to Timmy! Stenton Rogers or no Stenton Rogers!”

  “Yeah, but you did it to Alton Alston’s fiancée,” I charged.

  “Alton Alston did that to his fiancée! I don’t owe her shit!”

  “But you do. As a woman, you are obligated to protect other women with bleeding hearts just like yours. You were just as wrong for getting involved with an engaged man. Your offense may have been different than his, but the game of cheating is still the same. You provided the playground for him to cheat. Just like Regina did Timmy.”

  “Regina is a bitch. Everyone knows that.”

  “And you’re different? You’re putting a baby on Alton that you know isn’t his, Ang,” I pushed.

  Things got quiet. I was losing my patience, but had to forge ahead. We always vowed to be responsible for each other. I had to convince her to drop this bogus paternity claim.

  I grabbed my forehead. “Listen, Ang, the thing about anger and resentment for someone who has wronged you is it festers. Just like the bishop said last night in his sermon: you have to view forgiveness as a natural part of life while we’re on this journey. As sure as we live, people will hurt and disappoint us. But if we can keep in mind that our time here is short…a blink of a passage; just like Jesus forgave Judas, we’d understand that it’s a minor detail in our journey here.”

  I moved closer to Angela and saw the tears cresting her eyes. Karen sat Angela back down on the couch and wrapped her arms around her. I kneeled in front of Angela, gently gripping her knees.

  “You accusing Alton of fathering your precious baby affects everyone in the picture. The real target is Timmy, the person who is the father of this child. Address your issues with him, release Alton, and decide on your next move. If you do not, you will have years of anger, bitterness and resentment that will gravely affect you…” I placed my hand on her tight stomach. “…and your child for years to come. No one is worth your misery. Forgive Timmy and move on.”

  We stayed in that position for a while. My mind racing, wondering what was going through Angela’s head. Eventually she shifted in her seat, so we all did. Angela stood, and we all followed suit.

  “I’ll drop this paternity thing with Alton,” she murmured. But there was more behind her eyes. “I’m also going to figure out what to do about Timmy. But let me tell you this: whatever I decide isn’t for you to approve or to judge. Until you have lived…done something bold for once in your life, you have no authority to advise anyone about the art of living.”

  Then Angela brushed past me, nipping my arm roughly. I turned to watch her storm out of the living room. When I turned back to an aghast Karen, I knew my confusion about what just took place wasn’t unfounded.

  ~~~~~~~~~~

  December 2006 Stenton

  I
rang the doorbell, not understanding what the fuck I was doing there. I knew she texted me, asking me to shoot by because she had something to show me, but that still didn’t explain why my dumb ass went to this girl’s house on Christmas day, who I’d only known since the summer. I could hear the chatter from inside and sounds of a television. I had no idea if this was a dangerous set up or not. Shit! This was some risky shit. Some shit that I’d never done. To add insult to injury, I had my security stay in the truck because I didn’t want to come off as supercilious. Zoey wasn’t with that shit, so I wouldn’t be either.

  On the third ring, I heard movement beyond the door. When it pulled open, I recognized the exuberant smile of the little lady wearing it. Zoey looked far more innocent than that vixen I’d last experienced with her tongue down my throat. The thought of that made my dick twitch in my pants. Her hair was in a messy ponytail, she wore an oversized Princeton sweat-shirt and loose gray sweats, and her feet covered in black furry socks. She looked homely, but her beauty was glaring through all the loose clothes. I didn’t need to be reminded of what was under those layers; I’d committed Zoey’s sexy ass body to memory.

  “You came!”

  Suddenly, I couldn’t fight my spouting grin. “Yeah. My uncle was sick of my ass laying around his crib. I told you I’d stop by on my way home if it wasn’t too late. I hope it’s not.”

  “Oh, of course not,” she breathed, and appeared somewhat nervous. That made two of us. “Come on in.” She backed away to give me entrance into the small home.

  I entered straight into the living room where a game was playing on the television. The walls were covered with photos, a few I noticed immediately were of Zoey. The fragrance in there was a miscellany of an aged home, Zoey and soul food. The lighting was a bit dim because of the dulled bulb. I heard muffled voices from a distant room. Shit! I wasn’t up to meeting people. I’d hoped that wasn’t the plan for the visit. There, in the living room, was a young girl on the phone, chatting spiritedly while holding a small baby.

  “I hope you’re paying attention to what you’re holding, Shemma!” Zoey scolded as she led me into the short hallway that connected to the kitchen.

  The little girl shot back over her shoulder, “I am, Zo. Dang!” That’s when she caught a glimpse of me, possibly recognizing me. I didn’t stay around to know for sure. I stayed on Zoey’s heels.

  “Ruth…Zo, where is your Daddy?” A woman with a soprano tone called out as she bumped into Zoey in the hallway. The three of us damn near collided, I was so far up on Zoey’s ass feeling a bit wary about voyaging through a strange home…without security. “Oh, my!” the woman’s eyes batted in a bashful manner. I could tell my presence had caught her off guard. “Who is this?”

  Shit. Here we go.

  “Momma, this is my friend, Stenton. Stenton, this is Sarah Barrett, the bestest Momma in the whole wide world,” Zoey charmed. I could tell it was something she did often.

  “Oh, girl!” her mother swiped her away as Zoey tried planting an endearing kiss on her cheek.

  When Zoey pulled back, I proffered my hand. “Mrs. Barrett, it’s an extreme pleasure to finally meet Zoey’s mom.” And I meant that. The strength that Zoey exuded could have only come from a woman who positively guided her. I’d meditated on that since our first one-on-one conversation. Zoey’s maturation could not have been totally organic. It had to have come with wise impartation.

  “Why, thank you…” Sarah struggled to remember my name, which explained why she didn’t have that gleam of recognition in her eyes. But there was one of trying to figure out where she’d seen my face before. I’d give her some time and hoped the revelation would come once I’d left.

  “Stenton, Momma,” Zoey assisted her mother.

  “Oh, yes, Stenton. Thank you.” And that was it.

  No prying. No questions. No awkward staring to try and figure me out. I was grateful because learning my identity could have easily led down a road I wasn’t in the mood to travel. Although I didn’t know what the fuck Zoey and I were doing, I did view her as a part of my personal life. We’d had way too many intimate conversations not to.

  I think in that moment I fell for Zoey’s mother. There was something powerful yet cautioning about her aura. I could tell that quickly that she was kind, with a degree of meekness, and respectful. There was a hidden grace to Sarah that suddenly illuminated where Zoey got her confidence from. It had all clicked in that brief and awkward moment. My guard had lowered just a bit.

  “We’re going in the dining room. It’s empty, right?” Zoey asked. Before Sarah could answer, she continued, “Oh, and Daddy’s over at the Johnson’s praying for the sick and shut-in with the rest of the deacons.”

  Then she moved left and traveled a short distance into the dining room.

  “Sit right here, I have to go grab it, okay?” Zoey asked, damn near bouncing out of the room, leaving me alone. Again, she didn’t wait for a reply before proceeding.

  I tapped my fingers as I inspected the room. While I wasn’t as nervous as I was when I’d rang the doorbell thanks to Sarah, I was still on edge about being in a stranger’s home without protection. There had been too many horror stories of dudes in my line of work getting set up, chasing ass. While I wasn’t exactly chasing ass, I still didn’t want to fall victim to that.

  “Here we go!” Zoey sang as she entered the room with a small Christmas style gift bag. She handed it over then took a seat next to me, at the head of the table.

  “What’s this?” I asked, inspecting it.

  “Open it up and see, you dork.”

  I went for the small ribbon tied around the handles and loosened it, then pulled out the green tissue paper inside. I stopped.

  “Zo, you have to stop with the clicking sound. That…” I whispered my profanity with her mother in mind. Something about Sarah rang respect in my contaminated mind. “…shit gets to me.”

  “What?” her eyes bulged. “What sound?”

  “The one from the back of your throat.”

  “Oh! I didn’t know I was doing it. I-I don’t know when I’m doing it. Sorry! I’m just a little—”

  “Nervous?” I interrupted her.

  “Yes.”

  “About what, Niña?” And there was that pet name rolling off my tongue so naturally.

  “Well, about this. I hope you like it.”

  “Is this a gift?” I asked before going back to the bag.

  I pulled out a cotton piece of clothing. When I unrolled it, I found a KISS t-shirt from their 2000 KISS Farewell Tour. On the back, sure enough, there was Gene Simmons’ signature with Zoey’s name.

  “Holy shit,” I murmured in awe. I couldn’t believe she’d remembered to prove she owned this.

  “Cool, right?” Zoey’s grin wasn’t haughty, it was giddy. She was excited.

  “Yeah, it is.” My voice still almost a whisper.

  “Can I offer you something to eat, seeing this child of mine has forgotten her manners?”

  I looked up to find Sarah in the doorway. Still no glint of a fanatic in her eyes.

  “Ummmm… Momma, Stent has to go. He only agreed to stop by for a few minutes.”

  “Oh, okay. Are you sure I can’t get you some dessert to go, at least?”

  This woman, who it still appeared to not know who I was just yet, was offering me food from her kitchen. I was taken.

  “I have a few minutes to spare for Zo’s mom’s cooking.” How could I decline authentic hospitality?

  Sarah nodded and took off for the kitchen.

  “Dude, can you really stay?” Zoey whispered dubiously.

  I shook my head. “Probably not, but fuck it.” I wanted to chat about this t-shirt. “This smells brand new. Have you worn it yet?”

  “No. It’s too big, which is why I’m giving it to you.”

  “Giving it to me? If the size is the problem, why not give it to your dad?”

  “Please! If it ain’t John P. Kee, Paul Morton or The Rance Allen Group, m
y parents aren’t wearing it. To them, this is the devil’s music. If they had it their way, this would have been in the trash before it made it into their home.” Zoey giggled.

  I was still in astonishment. I’d met Gene several times before, but strangely found this t-shirt impressive. Zoey always reduced me to a layman when I was around her. That was one of many things that drew me to her.

  “You like that crazy metal music, too? Or is my Elizabeth here trying to force it down your throat?” Sarah asked as she placed a large plate of food in front of me.

  There was greens, cabbage, yams, potato salad, macaroni and cheese, stuffing, ham, chicken and BBQ ribs all packed on my plate. How she was able to fit it all was anyone’s guess. Next to it, she placed a tall glass of tea.

  “Momma,” Zoey appeared nervous. “I hope Stenton can eat all of that food.”

  “He’s a growing young man. I’m sure he can.” Sarah turned on her heel and walked out of the room, then called over her shoulder, “Oh, and I’ll be back with some dessert to go.”

  I looked over to Zoey. She apologetically mouthed, “Sorry.”

  “No worries at all. You think I’m gonna complain about this feast? You’re crazy,” I tried to assure her.

  “Thanks, Stenton. I know how you are about being out in public. I didn’t expect to keep you long, but it’s good seeing your dorky face again.” Zoey’s smile was warm. Her cheeks turned a shade of pink. She was blushing.

  “My face or my big ass fake teeth?” I asked before I placed a forkful of food in my mouth.

  “Stenton!” she gasped. “Let’s not go there again. I know they’re real now. Okay?” she tried whispering.

  So I did, too. “Good, because I’d like nothing more than to prove it again to you before I leave.”

  Zoey’s head fell back in laughter. We did a lot of that for about a half an hour before I left. Sarah packed up my dessert as promised.

  “How was your cousin’s wedding?”

  “Oh, Karen’s?” Zoey shrugged. “It was a wedding…you know…the traditional vows recited that no one upholds past when they slip from their lips.” Then her eyes grew large in excitement. “But her baby is gorgeous! Here, let me show off my nephew!”