But soon she and Trace would be together again. The ugly exchange between them tortured her. When did we become so disrespectful? Felicia asked herself. It was now plain to her that all these years she and Trace had spent building his career and her business might have cost them their marriage. In the beginning she thought she could do it all, but Trace’s lack of support and his need for her to be the perfect corporate wife had pushed her further and with more intensity into her own career. Felicia also knew, in all fairness, that she was to blame as well. Her drive to succeed had effectively usurped all the energy she should have put into her marriage.
It was time to face the truth. Her marriage was in a catatonic stupor, limping along on life support supplied in the form of occasional sex and cordial conversation. The intimacy and respect a relationship needs to grow and flourish were dead. Now it was left to Felicia to decide if she had the guts to pull the plug. But that decision was not to be made today.
Felicia opened her book but found she could not concentrate on the contents. She was annoyed that Lexis hadn’t returned her phone call, neither here in Martinique nor at the office in New York. Why should I be disappointed? she asked herself. Lexis is just one less detail I have to worry about. Determined to get some well-deserved rest, she put down her book, closed her eyes, and willed all thoughts of work, Trace, and Lexis Richards from her mind.
Felicia closed her eyes and let nature’s sensations invade her being. She listened to the crisp, syncopated rhythms of the ocean tide rushing the beach, the soothing sound lulling her overworked mind into a relaxed state. She felt the heat of the morning sun pouring down on her near-naked body, leaving her feeling sexy and brazen. She wanted to feel the soft contact of hands stroking her hot skin. Unable to stand the absence of touch, she reached down and picked up her suntan lotion. Felicia poured a warm pool of oil into her hand and slowly applied the lotion to her arms, stomach, and bare breasts. Pouring more into her hands, she closed her eyes and imagined her man there with her. As she stroked herself with a soft, feathery caress, she imagined her hands to be his, oiling up her feet and working his way up her legs to her tender inner thighs. Felicia felt as if she were being consumed by heat, both outwardly from the sun and inwardly by her own desire. Lexis, why aren’t you here with me?
Startled by her error, Felicia sat up and opened her eyes. In all her years of marriage, Felicia had never been unfaithful to Trace—not in thought or deed. Now, for the first time, she found herself fantasizing about being in the arms of another man. She closed her eyes again, shook the thoughts from her head, then reopened them, only to find herself staring into the smiling face of Lexis Richards.
“How long have you been standing there?” she asked, scrambling to cover her bare breasts.
“Not long. Don’t do that on my account.”
Felicia hoped he was telling the truth. There was no way of knowing how her face had translated her feelings and thoughts. “What are you doing here?” Felicia asked.
“I want to talk to you about my next movie, and I needed to chill a bit myself, so I flew in last night. Why are you out here alone?”
“Trace had an emergency at the office. He flew back to New York this morning.”
“What a shame,” Lexis said sarcastically. “Though he’s not too bright, leaving you here alone, looking like this.”
“I can be trusted,” Felicia said, trying to convince Lexis as well as herself.
“I wasn’t implying otherwise. It’s just you sittin’ up here on the beach, lookin’ all fine. Any man who still has testosterone running through his body is going to have to stop, look, and try to hoopdie-swoop you.”
“Hoopdie-swoop?”
“Try to pick you up,” Lexis translated.
“I see. Well, so far you’re the only one who’s come by to stop and look. Are you trying to pick me up?”
“Baby, when I do, you’ll know it. Have you eaten yet? I really do want to run this idea by you. It’s hot, Felicia, so hot that I want to start a buzz before we even finish the script.”
“Okay. We’ll do breakfast. You’ve piqued my interest.”
“Cool. I’ll meet you by the pool, say, ten-thirty.”
“Fine.”
“And Felicia, maybe you should change. I want to be able to concentrate.”
By 10:20 Felicia was sitting poolside waiting for Lexis. As she sipped her iced tea, she grew increasingly annoyed with herself. Why in the world was she sitting here, in this place, feeling so excited about having breakfast with Lexis Richards? Lexis was her client and friend—end of story.
Then why were you so concerned about what to wear? the devil on her shoulder baited her. After eliminating most of the clothes in her suitcase, Felicia had chosen off-white linen slacks and a sleeveless silk shell in the same color. Her hair was pinned up, giving her the air of a sophisticated and elegantly nonchalant woman.
“You look great,” Lexis commented, as he approached Felicia. “Are you hungry?”
“More curious than hungry. What’s your big news?”
“I’ve decided my next flick is going to tell the story of the New Orleans gens de couleur libre. The free people of color,” Lexis translated.
“I’m not familiar—”
“They were this whole society of educated, enterprising black folks who lived this bourgeois existence before the Civil War,” Lexis revealed.
“You’re telling me that there was an entire society of well-to-do, free black people even before slavery ended?” Felicia asked in awed disbelief.
“A society some eighteen thousand strong, livin’ it up in New Orleans. They were mostly the descendants of the Spaniards and French Creoles. The Europeans not only freed the kids they had with their slaves but took care of them, too. So this whole aristocratic society of old families, plantation owners, merchants, artists, poets, and doctors sprang up. It was hell of cool, but strange, too, because they kinda existed in this netherworld, not really accepted by black or white,” Lexis informed her. Felicia could see the excitement penetrate his body.
“There’s so much of our history people don’t know.”
“Until black history becomes American history, our big contribution to this country will be pickin’ cotton and singin’ spirituals. Shit, there’s only so much you can teach in one month—let alone the shortest month of the year.”
Felicia sat back, totally absorbed in what he had to say. Once again, it amazed her how much she’d learned about her people and herself since Lexis had come into her life. One of the things she found so attractive about the man was the way he reveled in his blackness. Lexis told her numerous times over their months together that he was “black by nature, proud by choice.” Through Lexis, the feelings of ethnic pride and cultural awareness that had grown dormant inside Felicia were being awakened.
Lexis introduced her to the works of great African-American writers like James Baldwin and Ralph Ellison, authors whose books had populated the shelves of her father’s library but whom Felicia had disregarded to concentrate on the works of Hemingway, Faulkner, and F. Scott Fitzgerald. Lexis revealed to her that The Three Musketeers and The Count of Monte Cristo, both staples in libraries stocked with great literature, were written by a black man, Alexandre Dumas. He took her to museums to show her the profound impact African art had on the European masters like Pablo Picasso and his generation of artists. And Lexis’s generosity with his CD collection furthered her education on the only true American musical art form—jazz.
“What are you going to call it?” Felicia asked.
“Praline Livin’.”
“I get it. A brown, sweet, and rich life.”
“Don’t be fooled, though. They might have been livin’ large, but they were still niggers in the eyes of white people. They had no political power, no free speech, and were considered second class. After the Civil War, many of them became the leaders in the fight for freed slaves’ civil and human rights.”
“Praline is a long way from th
e girl-gang movie you pitched to my father,” Felicia observed.
“Yeah, well, my films reflect the mood I’m in at the time. I was pissed off by the conditions in the ’hood—hence, Southeast and She Gang. Part of my inspiration for Praline Livin’ came from being in the French Quarter during Mardi Gras. I went into one of the shops to pick up something for my mom and ended up checking out these incredible mulatto dolls dressed to kill in period costumes. The saleswoman gave me the lowdown on the history, and I came back and did some more research.”
“And the rest of your inspiration?”
“I guess you can pat yourself on the back and take some credit. Even though you totally dogged Southeast, you made me think that maybe it was time to do something different. So I scrapped the girl-gang script. So what do you think?”
“I think it’s a wonderful idea. It’s time people learn that blacks had a long legacy of class and breeding—way before the ‘Cosby’ show arrived,” Felicia admitted, pleased that she’d been a source of inspiration. “Though I’m surprised that you’re doing a movie on the ‘uppity’ black elite,” she teased.
“Like with most things folks don’t understand, with exposure comes tolerance,” Lexis said, smiling.
“It’s a great idea. One even my father might be interested in investing in. Will it be a love story? It would be nice to see that side of our lives explored.”
“Sorry, love stories aren’t my thing. I want Praline Livin’ to focus on the politics of color. Now, here’s what I’m thinking. We can do some kind of reception thing during Mardi Gras next year and announce the film. That way we get people talking early.”
“Hey, stop doing my job. Ideas like that are what you pay me for. Isn’t that why you rushed down here—for my public-relations expertise?”
“Oh, yeah—for your PR expertise,” Lexis acknowledged, giving her the once-over. “Look, I have to be straight up about this. I came down here, not just to rap about the movie, but because I couldn’t stand not being or talking with you for so long. I figured seeing you with your husband was better than not seeing you at all.”
Felicia acknowledged Lexis’s confession with a silent smile that spoke volumes. It was a smile that conveyed her pleasure at hearing his words, that agreed with his rationale, that encouraged him to continue.
“I know I’m crossing the line here, but when I saw you there on the beach, looking so fine, I wanted to grab you up, carry you off somewhere, and make love to you until you begged me to stop. Felicia, I know I’m probably screwing up this whole business thing we have going here, but I can’t front anymore. I want to be with you and for once not be dreaming.”
Felicia felt complimented and appreciative of his honesty. She was happy that he hadn’t complicated things further by saying that he loved her. All she knew was that she, too, wanted to be with him—no strings, no commitments. She just wanted to kiss and touch Lexis and feel his body next to hers. Felicia needed him to make her feel like a whole woman again.
“Come,” she said softly and headed for her room. She was just about to put her key into the door when Lexis stopped her.
“Are you sure about this, Felicia? I don’t want you doing anything you’ll regret.”
“I’m sure,” she said, drawing him into a confirming kiss. “Come in, make yourself comfortable. I’ll be right back.”
Lexis watched Felicia walk into the bathroom and close the door behind her. He walked over to the minibar and fixed himself a drink. It was early, but he needed fortification for what was ahead. There was a lot riding on this afternoon. If things went well, who knew what pleasant and wonderful things the future held for the two of them? At the same time, this one act of passion could ruin a fruitful professional alliance and crush a friendship that had come to mean a great deal to him. Still, he was willing to take the chance. After all these months of yearning, there was no way that if Felicia was willing, he was going to pass on the opportunity to finally touch the soul of the woman he’d longed for all these months.
Lexis took his drink to the window. Felicia’s room had a fabulous view of the ocean. There were at least thirty sailboats dotting the sapphire-colored water. Under a sky speckled with puffs of silky white clouds, windsurfers skimmed the sea, powered by the tropical island breeze. It was a beautiful day to make love to a beautiful woman—a woman who belonged to another man.
Why was it that when he finally found a woman who truly interested him, she was married? Lexis didn’t like the idea that he was about to go to bed with another man’s wife. He prided himself on being a bigger, better man than that. But in the end, Trace simply did not matter.
Felicia returned from the bathroom wearing a short kimono robe, her hair cascading down her shoulders. The gold silk clung to her trim, shapely body. She walked purposefully toward Lexis, took the glass from his hand, and drained the remains of his drink.
“Was that for courage?” Lexis asked.
“Something like that.” The idea of sharing her body with another man was as frightening as it was tempting.
“If this doesn’t feel right, we shouldn’t go through with it.”
“How do you feel?”
“Baby, nothing ever felt more right to me in my life,” Lexis told her as he lightly ran his fingers through her hair. “I’ve wanted this for a long time. The question is: Does this feel right to you?”
“All I know is that it doesn’t feel wrong.”
“What about Trace?”
“Shh,” Felicia said, touching her finger to his lips to silence him. She did not want to think about Trace now. Any guilt or remorse she might feel would be dealt with later. Right now Felicia simply wanted to satisfy her overwhelming desire to make love to this sensuous man.
Lexis stopped talking and kissed her finger. He ran his hand down her back, roving her spine with a gentle, fluttery touch. His hand came to rest lightly on her behind, drawing up the silky fabric of her robe, revealing her left buttock.
“Follow me,” he requested. Felicia followed Lexis out onto the private balcony. He wrapped his arms around her, his chest pressing against her breasts. They kissed long and hard, slowly tasting each other. Lexis eased off Felicia and untied the belt on her robe, revealing matching gold brassiere and thong panties. Lexis drew in his breath in admiration.
“You are incredible,” he whispered as his hand found its way to the damp inside of her thigh.
“Is this a swoopdie-hoop?” she asked coyly.
“Without a doubt. And it’s hoopdie-swoop,” Lexis corrected her, chuckling.
Felicia stood facing the ocean and allowed Lexis to ravish her body. She was torn between her passionate desire to return Lexis’s physical attention and her feelings of betrayal. If she continued to take and not give, would she be less guilty of infidelity? On the other hand, if she did not become an active participant, would Lexis think her to be a terrible lover? Ego and guilt, Felicia decided, made for terrible bed companions.
It was Lexis’s hot mouth on her erect nipples that turned the tide. The intensity of her desire made it impossible for Felicia not to respond fully. Only after he’d worked her up into a hot frenzy did Lexis stop to remove his own clothing. Felicia, the sun pouring down on her, watched as Lexis’s lean, muscular body was revealed. Unable to stand his mouth away from hers one second longer, she reached up and pulled his lips to hers. Felicia replaced their earlier slow kisses with shorter, more ardent ones.
“Whoa, baby, slow down,” Lexis said softly. “I want to make this last. I’ve waited too long to be with you to let it come and go in a flash.” Lexis punctuated his declaration with a long, tender kiss. His tongue softly explored the warmth of her mouth, pausing only to gently lick her raw and swollen lips.
Felicia had never been kissed like that before. The sensuality of the act grabbed her heart and lifted it into her throat. She stood, her buttocks pressed against the sliding glass door, as Lexis covered her body with a string of lingering kisses. His lips traveled south, and on bend
ed knee lustfully explored her with his tongue.
“Baby, you taste scrumptious—how I’d imagine the nectar from the most exotic, most exquisite flower would taste. I don’t think I could ever get enough of you.”
Felicia felt herself tremble, unsure if it was his words or actions that were the cause. Lexis was so tender, so erotic. The combination of his words, kisses, and touch stirred Felicia body and soul. She wanted to feel him inside her.
“Wait,” Felicia said, pulling away breathlessly. “Do you have a condom?”
“No. You?”
“No.” They sat facing each other, their chests rising and falling with excitement. It was clear that their bodies ached for each other. “So what do we do now?”
“Baby, I may be a little freaky, but I’m certainly no fool,” Lexis assured her. “I am very selective. There ain’t no booty worth dyin’ over. I don’t take chances with my life, and I won’t with yours.”
Felicia was grateful to Lexis for bringing the matter up. She didn’t know how to approach the subject with him. She’d been with only one man and wasn’t sure how to handle the etiquette of sex in the nineties.
“Thank you.”
“What about birth control?”
“I’m wearing my diaphragm. We’re safe.”
“Then what are we waiting for?”
Lexis carefully lowered Felicia down on the oversized chaise, his body following hers. He pressed himself into her, showering her face, neck, and ears with quick little kisses. His hand rubbed across her breasts, down her flat stomach, and came to rest on her thigh. Lexis could feel Felicia quiver slightly as he slowly entered her. Every nerve ending between her legs tingled, causing Felicia to draw in her breath in a pleasurable moan. She felt herself opening up wide to receive him.
Read Between the Lies Page 17
