by Zane
***
I’d gotten used to the feeling of my fingertips teasing the fleshy ignition switch cushioned between my vaginal walls. I needed more. I deserved more, which was why I agreed to Aunt Frances setting me up with Eugene, the son of one of her childhood friends in Atlanta. We had some stuff in common: he was a lawyer; a Gemini, born on the same day, June seventh. He’d gone to law school at Howard, graduating five years ahead of me. He contemplated relocating to a coastal area, like St. Simons, which was just across the water from Sapelo. After exchanging a few letters, and receiving his picture, I decided to invite him to my home for dinner. I certainly never imagined I’d be accepting blind dates, but based on his description: six feet tall; mediumbrown skin; athletic build; and the likeness of Arthur Ashe, I figured, what the hell?
Needless to say, when I heard someone knock at six in the evening, and I opened the front door, I was not charmed. My Arthur Ashe was all of five foot feet eight; splotchy mediumbrown skin, the likeness of sandpaper; and a hairline that may have once been a thick afro. Time had made a bee-line straight through the middle of his damn head.
Once again I figured, what the hell? But this time I answered the question. Tonight was strictly need-based. Dinner, sex, and his ass on the next ferry back to Atlanta.
“Good evening, Jasmine,” he said, almost sung. I knew his glance of me was more breathtaking than the air I almost choked on, after seeing him.
I was never much on makeup, but tonight was my rite of passage into the lion’s den of dating. I wanted to spruce up pale cheeks that were accustomed to tear streaks. I had applied a light dusting of amber rouge, a touch of cranberry lipstick, and brown mascara to accentuate my teal-colored eyes. The baby oil I’d brushed through my hair, gave my bun a satin finish. I was one of the lighter sistas of Sapelo, thanks to my no-name white father, who obviously didn’t want more than a fuck from my runaway black mother. Curly locks, wrapped in a tattered blanket. That’s how my Aunt Frances first met me, when she opened the door to her porch thirty-one years ago. She had sacrificed her aspirations of becoming a registered nurse to care for me, like I was her own. She wanted me to be happy, and feared I was too young to be alone. I didn’t think I was too young to be alone, but I was getting too old to let a traumatic past blindside the nuances of life. Aunt Frances said a woman had yearnings that couldn’t be denied. I agreed, which was why I accepted my date’s bouquet of roses, and stepped aside as he walked in. Tonight would not be the makings of rocket science, but whatever happened, I hoped I wouldn’t regret it.
“Eugene, the roses are simply gorgeous,” I blurted out with glee, my attempt at enthusiasm.
He grinned. “Beauty is truly in the eyes of the beholder of those roses.”
I kept a strained smile after his corny comment, keeping my disappointment about his appearance at bay. I cleared my throat. “Please make yourself at home,” I said, pointing to the sofa.
When he removed his trench coat and sat down, I bit my lip to prevent from cracking up. His copper-colored polyester suit clashed with the floral slipcovers of my living room sofa, creating a piece of work louder than the Matisse print hanging above. I couldn’t hold back the low chuckle that escaped my mouth. The wine I had been sipping on while cooking dinner had me giddy, and I wondered if his body was just as tasteless as the suit.
Relax, Jasmine, I thought as I sat beside him. It wasn’t that serious, I rationalized, but I still felt foreign to this whole dating scene. I mean, Eugene seemed nice enough. He wrote beautiful poetry, and I dug the Billie Holiday record he sent me. I just wondered if he had something under that polyester that would make me appreciate more than his personality. Like I said, it had been a long time.
He took the luxury of placing his hand on my thigh, slowly letting his fingertips take cover under the hem of my black rayon miniskirt. I enjoyed the warmth of his palm running up and down the smoothness of my sheer nylon stocking. I could feel an itch coming from a place that had been estranged from the excitement of a man’s touch. I quickly crossed my legs, knocking his hand down. I knew he saw me blush as I bent over to straighten the Ebony magazines on the coffee table that were already neatly arranged.
“Sorry if I seem a little nervous, Eugene,” I said softly. “It’s been a while since I’ve kept a man’s company.”
He chuckled. “My love life was barely in existence until Frances and Berta introduced us. First dates can be a little awkward, but I’m sure we’ll make out fine,” he said with a wink.
I took notice of his nice smile as I leaned back against the sofa pillow. Pearly straight teeth were his first brownie point for the night. Two things I didn’t like on a man: stained teeth and dirty fingernails. Eugene licked his lips as he eyed the hint of cleavage showing under my red sleeveless, V-neck angora sweater. The eagerness in his eyes, and the tingling of my sweet spot, indicated that dinner would be cut short.
He kissed my hand. “Thanks for inviting me over. You have a lovely home.”
“Thanks,” I said, admiring the fresh coat of French vanilla paint I’d put on the walls a few days ago. The bright color made the space in my cape Cape Cod seem a lot larger. “My house is simple, but tasteful, I think.”
“Ah…tasteful. Leaves something to the imagination.”
I squeezed his hand. “Speaking of taste, dinner’s ready. Would you like to try some of my seafood casserole?”
“I’d love to try everything,” he said, giving me a sly grin.
I slowly got up, smoothing the edges of my sweater over my hips as I sashayed to the kitchen. “Follow me,” I said, a seductive smirk lingering on my face.
“Umm…my pleasure,” he said as he followed close behind. He was a gentleman, helping me bring food from the kitchen to the formal dining area that I’d created out of unused porch space. He pulled out my chair, allowing me to get comfortable, then sat across from me.
“You’re stunning,” he said, reaching for his wine glass.
I nodded. “You’re…so kind.” I prayed the Merlot waiting in my glass would make him look fine by the end of the night.
***
My mind wandered during dinner. I snapped back to reality when Eugene called my name.
“Jasmine, what’s wrong?” he asked, wiping his mouth.
I looked down as I folded the napkin in my lap. “I guess I don’t have much of an appetite for the casserole.”
He reached for my hand. “Is there anything I can do?”
I put my cloth napkin down next to the plate of half-eaten food. I smirked as I got up and went to his side of the table. “Yes. Make me dessert,” I whispered as I sat in his lap.
“Right away,” he said, molding the contours of my ass in his hands. His lips sucked the side of my neck. I pressed my hips against his pelvis. “I’ve been waiting for this night.” He lifted me out of the chair as I wrapped my legs and arms around him.
We were kissing and petting so much, we didn’t make it to the bedroom. He laid me down on the paisley area rug of my living room floor. I swiftly pulled my sweater over my head and unfastened my red lace bra. He breathed heavily as he splattered sloppy kisses all over my chest, like a ravenous beast. I clamped my eyes shut, blocking out emotions. He groped my breasts, roughly squeezing them together.
“Eeeh…!” I screamed in pain. I firmly pushed his mouth away, frowning up at him as he loomed over me. Carnal pleasure was one thing, but his awkwardness would make for a long night.
“Are you okay?”
“I will be, hopefully. Do you have protection?”
“Yes,” he said, anxiously pulling the condom from his pocket. He wiggled out of those ugly pants. “Right here.”
He put the Trojan down on the coffee table as he watched me slip out of my skirt and nylons. When he removed his starched boxers, I realized something was missing in action. I had turned off the living room lamp, which left only light from the candles on the dining room table. Perhaps my vision was compromised from the dim lighting, but I could have s
worn I saw a Tootsie Roll instead of a bratwurst peeping at me.
Get it together, Jasmine, I thought. Your eyesight is probably blurred from drinking too much wine at dinner.
“Are you ready, baby?” he asked as he moved beside me.
“Yeah, but let me make sure you are.” I got up and massaged his shoulders. I planted soft kisses on a hairy back, which could have used a dab or two of Brut to camouflage his musty scent. I moved my right hand over his not-so-athletic chest, causing him to grunt like a boar in heat. My fingernail got snagged on his beady hairs.
The snag didn’t hurt him, and nothing about him aroused me. This called for desperate measures.
I straddled my body at his legs, and bent my head to give his penis pleasure. My mouth received more oxygen than meat from him.
“That’s right, baby,” he said. “Get me ready.”
Get what ready? There’s nothing there, I thought, frowning at his shriveled prune.
I decided to remain optimistic. I took his penis in my palm, and stroked him. Talk about getting your rocks off. My massage to his marbles pleased him only. I kept rubbing, wishing a genie would come and be a miracle worker on Eugene, or grant me another man. I took the condom off of the table and put it on him. I watched it parachute off his sorry dick. Convinced that somebody had it out for me, I made a mental note to see Sarah about getting some “good luck” roots. Damn, the irony of it all. Another year, another April Fools’ Day gone badly. Leaving me on my knees—staring at a toothpick, poking out of a sponge cake.
He got up from under me and wrapped his arms around my body, guiding me down.
“It’s been a while since I made love to someone as beautiful as you.” He crawled on top of me and somehow managed to get the condom to cling. His penis enlarged somewhat as he dabbed near my moist reservoir. Nothing impressive, but at least I felt something as he entered me. He slowly grinded, but the rhythm was off. Billie’s “This Bitter Earth” had just finished playing. When the record player needle hit the last vinyl ridge, blasting static through the speakers, I realized tonight had been a big mistake. I’d had enough sexual incompetence for one night.
“Ah, Eugene,” I said, prodding his doughy rib cage. “I’m sorry to disturb you, but I am not enjoying this.”
“Just wait a minute, baby,” he said as he continued to hump, out of breath. “I’ve been under a lot of pressure lately, so my body is a little tense. Give us a few minutes to get adjusted to each other.”
I rolled my eyes and sighed as he continued the pointless stirring in my body. No, negro, that’s the problem. Your ass ain’t tense enough. Finally, the bitch in me climaxed.
“Stop, Eugene!” I yelled. He lifted his weight off and pulled out of me. I moved from under him.
“Jasmine, I’m sorry,” he said. “I guess I’m just tired tonight. Let me find another way to please you.” He ventured down to my pubic area. I scooted away.
“No, that’s not necessary,” I said.
“We just need more time. I can….”
I raked through my hair in frustration as I looked at him. “I don’t mean to sound crass, but there’s not that much time in the world, Eugene. My pussy is not that patient.”
He frowned, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “What’s with the attitude?”
I snatched my panties off of the floor. “Attitude!” I shouted, putting on my clothes.
“Yeah, what’s the problem?”
I stood directly above him, pointing in his face. “My problem is you. Put your clothes on, and stop asking questions.” I marched to the lamp and turned it to the highest brightness.
Eugene looked like he had just lost his puppy. He remained idle on the floor, knees prone, dick deflated. “Can we talk about this?”
I gave a sarcastic cackle as I flung my arms in the air. “Why not? We damn sure can’t have a productive fuck!”
He raised his palms defensively. “Calm down.”
I put my hands on my hips. “I will not calm down. I’m still horny, and you expect me to calm down!”
“Why are you so angry?”
I went over to the end table and snatched his photo out of my journal. “How old is this picture, Eugene? Where’s the full afro? Hell, is this really you?”
He finally rose to his feet, and stared off in space as he got dressed. His silence to my inquisition told me he had been deceptive all along.
I sighed and shook my head in disgust. “I can’t believe you. All the personal things I shared with you in my letters. The poetry and gifts exchanged. You had me worked up, thinking just maybe it was time to open my heart again. But as it stands now, you had me…and I had a fraud.”
He touched my shoulder, but I pushed his hand away. “Wait! You act like I violated you or something,” he said.
I paced the floor. “I willingly had sex with you, which makes me an ass, but you misrepresented yourself, which makes you cruel.” My bottom lip trembled as I tried to hold back tears. “This fiasco makes me miss my husband even more.”
He sighed as he stuffed his hands into his pants pockets. “So, what are you saying?”
I stopped pacing and stood directly in his face. “I’m saying, I want you to leave, and please lose my phone number on your way back to Atlanta.”
He straightened his tie as I handed him his overcoat. The door tapped his back as I slammed it, and supported me as I slid down. I cursed my desperation. I don’t know how long I cried, but sadness eventually led me to sleep. When I awakened, I didn’t feel any better, but I got up and put the record player needle back on Billie Holiday. At least I knew her blues would spell the truth… this earth was indeed bitter.
TIRED OF BEING ALONE
A fifth of Scotch, and two bubble baths still couldn’t erase the image of Eugene pumping hot air inside of me. His stature was rotund in all the wrong places…a damn shame. I sucked my teeth as I stormed into the tiny office at the medical mission. Aunt Frances was reclined in her wooden swivel chair. Her eyes closed, she hummed a tune all her own.
“Frances, Frances!”
“Huh?” Her pudgy cheeks jiggled as she opened her eyes and sat up straight. She grinned deeply, exposing dimples that made her mocha-colored face radiant. “Hey, baby gal,” she said in a bass drawl. “You done snuck on in here, and surprised your old auntie.” She moved the Bible that had been resting on her round belly to her cluttered desk.
I folded my arms as I leaned my butt on the edge of her desk. “I called your ass three times. You all right? I thought maybe you were praying, but I ain’t hear that humna hadasa stuff you be puttin’ down, when you in spiritual mode.”
“Jasmine, hush up. It’s called, ‘speaking in tongues,’ but you wouldn’t know nothin’ ’bout that, you heathen!”
“Look who’s talkin’. You spend more time sleeping than tending to the sick in this mission.” I had to hold in a laugh, because she was senselessly fanning herself. Overheated from her too-tight, white uniform.
“Lawd, I need another fan up in here. Turn dat thing up, would ya?” She motioned toward the buzzing steel fan.
I glanced at the fan and didn’t move. “Humph. I wish I would. You need to boil in your sins, Miss Part-time Nurse, Full-time Practical Joker.”
She squeezed her wide hips out of the seat and bumped me as she bent over to turn up the fan. “Whatcha talkin’?” she asked.
I shook my head as I watched her butt settle back into the chair, each spring underneath creaking from her load. “I’m talking about that munchkin you set me up with last night.” I pouted and folded my arms, waiting for her response.
She held her belly as she chuckled. “Well, he didn’t look that short, last time I saw ’em, ’bout ten years ago when he was in college.”
“Ten years and twenty pounds lighter would make anyone look taller, you old fool!”
“Why you gotta be angry all the time? That’s the problem. You frustrated below. And since you ain’t fit to get into nobody’s convent, you might as
well put that thang to use, ’fore it dry up.”
“You talkin’ from experience, Old Settler?”
“There you go with that smart mouth. When you was a baby, crying those blue eyes out, I shoulda taken you to the beach and fed you to the porpoises!”
I sprung to attention, hands on my hips. “They wouldn’t have eaten me, ’cause they know you their family! Now hush, and listen to what I gotta say.”
She pouted a little as she took a handkerchief from her pocket to wipe her brow. I could tell I’d hurt her feelings, but she’d get over it. She always did. We were so much alike. Mouthy and in charge. We fussed all the time, our way of loving each other.
Aunt Frances didn’t mean any harm. I gave her a kiss on the cheek.
“Shoo now, go on,” she huffed, trying not to smile.
“I know you constantly worryin’ about me, since Adam been gone, but I’ll be all right. You’ve seen me through the best and the worst, and I know you gonna always be there. Just give me a little more time to figure out my love life, okay?”
She nodded in agreement as she looked me over. “You mighty casual.”
“I don’t have any appointments today,” I said, running my hand down the side of my form-fitting, strapless sundress. “I’m thinkin’ about taking a walk along the beach.”
She picked up a wicker basket filled with boxes from off of her desk. “Well, we short one orderly. Can you help your auntie out for a few minutes before you go?”
I took the basket from her. “I reckon. What you need?”
She swirled in her chair with her back facing me. “Unpack those boxes, and stock the medicine drawers in the triage area with bandages,” she said, picking up the telephone receiver. “I gotta make a quick phone call to the Red Cross, then I’ll come out and relieve you.”
