The Sweetest Taboo

by Risqué

“You were just getting to ‘we’ve been friends forever,’” she said sarcastically.

  “Exactly. See, we here.” He pointed to his chest and then to hers. “You know how we do—”

  “Yeah, we chill.”

  “Yup.” He took another sip of her drink. “We talk real shit. That’s why I say you my man.”

  “Yeah, that’s me, a fuckin’ man.”

  “Like I said, we good. If we start confessing too much, about how we really feel, it’s gon’ lead us to doin’ a buncha unnecessary shit.”

  “Unnecessary shit?” Yuri said, caught off guard. “Like what?”

  “Like we’ll start sweatin’ each other. Gettin’ mad and blowin’ up each other’s spots. And I’m not feeling that. So…we gon’ stick”—he placed his lips against hers—“to our original plan. Best friends with hidden benefits. Nothing extra.”

  Instantly Yuri felt an iron fist begin to compete with the tears in her throat. Suddenly she was hustling like hell not to have her crushed feelings jump out and kick Britt’s selfish ass for being so stupid and not understanding that she would give it all up for him…. All he had to do was ask. “Best friends don’t ask me not to fuck my husband.”

  “Can’t you do something else with this dude? Go to the movies. Read a book. Rent a Katt Williams tape and make him laugh. All I’m saying is don’t fuck his ass.”

  “Anyway,” Yuri said as she jumped off the counter and sat down at Britt’s piano. “Enough of that.” She started to play around with the keys.

  “Yo,” he said, happy she’d cut the conversation, “play something.”

  “A’ight, let me see….” Quickly, Yuri thought of a tune and started to play.

  “Oh, hell no,” Britt said removing his rice from the stove. “What the hell you playing the theme song to Good Times for?”

  “Ahh haa!” Yuri laughed so hard that drool fell out the side of her mouth. “Okay, okay, a couple more, a couple more. Name this one.” She started to work her fingers across the keys.

  “The Jeffersons, silly ass.”

  “Okay, I got you on this one.”

  “Girl, please. I live and breathe music, that’s Biggie’s ‘One More Chance.’”

  “Wait a minute, is yo’ ass American on the low? What else you know? You know where bin Laden at?”

  Britt laughed as he cut his food off and started fixing their plates. “Do you want a roti or just rice, crazy?”

  “Both, but don’t make up my roti; put the roti skin on the side. Oh and I want some Kuchilla too. Oh and a Shandy.”

  “You know you ain’t West Indian, right?”

  “Keep on talking, you know you gon’ want some of this American pussy later. Anyway…name this tune.” Yuri started to play the piano.

  “‘The Sweetest Taboo’ that was ole-girl shit.”

  “Who?”

  “Troi.” As soon as he said it, he knew he’d hurt Yuri’s feelings. “Yo, I’m sorry.”

  “Whatever Britt. Troi will never go away.” Yuri rolled her eyes toward the ceiling, “Fuck it.” She got up from the piano and started collecting her things, “Since that’s ole girl’s shit…since that’s what you think, go get her ass and have her sing to you!”

  “Yuri,” he said sincerely, “I said my fault.”

  Doing her best not to cry, Yuri spat, “That was our shit! Our fuckin’ song, not that bitch—me and you! That was the first song I ever sang to you! But you know what? Fuck you, fuck this and fuck that bitch! I’m leaving!”

  “Where you going, Yuri?” He walked over to her and blocked her path.

  “Move, you stopping me is not gon’ work this time.”

  “Yuri, wait nuh,” Britt said as his Trinidadian accent slipped in between his words. “Fuh real,” he grabbed her hands and held them to his mouth. “I’m sorry, like for real I am. It’s all about you. Fuck Troi. I shoulda never said that, my fault. I’ll never forget the first time you sang for me. Never.” He held her to his chest. “Don’t leave, baby, I want you to stay.”

  Yuri inhaled Britt’s scent and then she exhaled as if it were her last breath. Thoughts of love and confusion tore through her mind. “All right,” she mumbled, “I’ll stay.”

  “You love me, girl?” He grabbed her around the waist, picked her up and carried her to the breakfast bar.

  “No, I can’t stand you.” She suppressed a smile.

  Britt kissed her on the side of her forehead. “Stop letting your imagination lead you a million places. Just ride with me for a little; worry about everything else later. All you need to know is that I got you. For real I do.”

  “You love me, don’t you?” Yuri smiled, looking at Britt pinch a piece of his roti skin and pick up his meat.

  “You a’ight, niggah.” He waved his hand from side to side. “Now eat that food.”

  “Remember the first time you cooked for me I thought this was some animal called roti’s skin?” She pointed to her plate. “Not until I tasted it did I know it was bread.”

  “You a ignorant motherfucker.” Britt laughed. “I don’t even know why I fuck with you.”

  For hours Yuri and Britt lay suspended in their own world. They ate from each other’s plates, drank from the same glass, played hands of strip poker, where they each took pride in Yuri losing every time.

  The only invader allowed in was the heavy rain that beat against the multitude of windowpanes and the low humming of CD 101.9’s sultry jazz mix. Yuri tried desperately to think of a way she could confess to Britt about her wanting him for the rest of her life; and Britt tried his best to push how he really felt out of his mind.

  “Yo.” Britt looked at Yuri as she lay across his bed watching a DVD of his last performance. “Don’t forget to give me a heads-up when you about to go home.”

  “Why you all over the stage like that?” Yuri asked, pointing at the high-definition TV, Britt’s question not yet registering. “What you just say to me?” was her delayed response.

  “I said give me a heads-up before you go home.”

  “Why, you gon’ miss me?”

  “Man, please.” He did his best to dismiss her. “Now,” he said with a frown, getting up from the recliner to sit on the bed between her legs, “I was doin’ my thing. What’s the problem?”

  “’Cause you doin’ some Puffy and Yung Joc shit. Hunching your shoulders and carrying on. And what’s with all the rubbin’ on the dancer’s ass?”

  “You ain’t complain when we performed and I was rubbin’ all over yo’ ass.” He laughed.

  “Yeah and you were planning on fuckin’ me. Or is that what I see going on?”

  “Here you go.”

  “Oh, you fuckin’ bitches on the road?”

  “You fuckin’ niggahs at home?”

  Knowing that she’d been appeasing Jeff with pussy, Yuri asked, “Why you stuck on me fucking Jeff?”

  “I’m selfish.” He turned over and lay on top of her. “You know you got to be bad to be stretched out in this motherfucker like this.”

  “Oh here you go with that dick swole.”

  “Dick swole.” He turned her over and placed her directly on his hard dick. “Yo, you chillin’ in my shirt,”—he started to unbutton it—“I’m cookin’ for you.” He kissed her on the lips and massaged her waist. Looking at her body he moaned, “You dangerous.”

  Yuri quickly peeped at the clock and saw that it was approaching eleven P.M.

  Britt knew by the diversion of her eyes that she was counting the time, which was why he pulled his shirt off her and gave instructions, “I want you to ride my dick, let me nut in you real quick and then you can go home to your husband.”

  Jeff is gon’ lose his damn mind, Yuri thought as she started to kiss Britt’s chest, before sliding down on his dick.

  “Stop thinking.” Britt placed his hands around her waist and assisted her with gyrating.

  After they’d pleased each other once more, Britt looked at the time. “Twelve A.M. You ’bout to roll?”

&nb
sp; “In a minute.” Yuri placed her head on Britt’s chest, doing her best to keep her eyes open.

  The Shark Bar closes at one A.M., she thought, settling on the lie she would tell Jeff. So I have a little time to play with. “Are you about to go to sleep?” She looked at Britt.

  “Naw, I’m ’bout to light up this big head, check out these fake Puffy moves you were talking about.”

  “Okay, wake me up in a hour.”

  “Yuri, you sure you don’t need to be getting home now?”

  “Hold up…” She raised her head from his chest, and caught a slight attitude. “My space in line is up or something?”

  “What?”

  “I mean, hell, let me know if Troi is coming over.”

  “Oh man, please.” He sighed. “Here you go with that shit. I just want you to get home at a reasonable hour so this dude don’t flip.”

  “Britt, please, Jeff ain’t gon’ do shit but get mad, play Al Green and go to sleep.”

  “No wonder you cheatin’.” Britt laughed, as Yuri placed her head back on his chest and drifted off to sleep.

  A few hours later, Yuri thought she was lost in a dream when she heard her cell phone ring. She opened her eyes and expected Jeff to catch an attitude because her phone was ringing so late at night. “Don’t start, Jeff,” she said before he could comment.

  “Hello.” She groggily answered the phone.

  “Oh, wait a fuckin’ minute.” Jeff laughed in disbelief. “Yo’ ass is sleep?”

  Yuri sat up in bed and looked around the room: grand piano, keyboard, studio equipment. Britt. Oh shit. Realizing that Britt must’ve fallen asleep and forgotten to wake her, her heart started to race as she checked the time: three A.M. Goddamn. “Jeff…I got caught up.”

  “Caught up in what? That niggah breathing in your face or his dick ramming you in the ass?”

  “Nae-Nae…” She paused thinking of what to say next. Before Jeff could go on, Yuri’s other line beeped. “Hold on.”

  “Yur’ray.” She knew it was Nae-Nae. “What the fuck? Britt’s dick that big you gotta suck it all damn night? I told you a million times not to be selfish and share with me. And now look, Tina, you got Ike blowin’ up my ma’fuckin’ spot. Asking me have I seen you. I wanted so bad to say ‘No, niggah. And apparently you either. All I see is this down-low dick I’m ’bout to tear into. Now stop hatin’.’”

  “Tell me you didn’t say that.” She peeped over at Britt, and couldn’t tell if he was still sleep or not, so she whispered, “What’d you tell him, Nae-Nae?”

  “I told him we were at Fantasy Island, had too much to drink, so we came here and both fell asleep.”

  “A’ight, thanks. Bye.” She clicked back over. “Jeff, look—”

  “Look at what? What kinda lie you ’bout to tell now, Yuri?! The one Nae-Nae just fed you? Just tell ole boy to man-up, get on the fuckin’ phone and let me ask him where he wants your shit dropped off.”

  “Damn, Jeff, what the hell did I just tell you!” she screamed. “Shit. I’m on my way.” And she hung up.

  “Check this.” Britt turned over and faced Yuri, who was scrambling to get dressed. “I’ma kick some realness to you. First of all, calm down and take the I’ve-been-fuckin’ look off your face.” Yuri took a deep breath and Britt continued, “When you get home, don’t say shit. Trust me. Let the niggah blow off some steam; and at most you say, ‘My fault, I was wrong, I’m sorry, and it won’t happen again.’”

  “Britt, please.” Now she was fully dressed. “That will never be enough for Jeff. He gon’ badger the hell outta me until I tell him something that sounds close to what he wants to hear.”

  “What I just tell you, Yuri? This ain’t no hard-dick advice, this some best friend shit. Walk in the door and shut the fuck up. Bottom line is, you’re wrong, learn how to eat that shit sometimes. Now, don’t underestimate his ass, jump bad and cuss him out. Let him do all the talking, get his shit off and when you go back to sleep, keep both eyes open.”

  “Ha-ha.” Yuri said, kissing Britt on the forehead before she headed out the door. “I’ll call you later.”

  At least a thousand wishes and whys floated through Yuri’s mind as she raced from midtown into the never-sleeping streets of the Upper West Side.

  Hating that her game was fucked up and her emotions didn’t keep her pawns in check, she prayed that Jeff bought whatever Nae-Nae had to say. And then maybe she could muster enough wetness, close her eyes real tight, hit Jeff off with some guilt-ridden pussy and cap the night.

  Doing her best not to jingle her keys in the lock, Yuri quietly opened the door. As soon as she entered she could see smoke rising from Jeff’s Cuban cigar. Miles Davis’s horn played quietly in the background as Jeff flipped the lights on.

  “I’m sorry, Jeff, my fault, I overslept,” Yuri spat out quickly, hoping to put an end to Jeff’s premeditated argument. “Okay? So…I’ma head to bed.”

  “I don’t advise you to catch no sleep around me.” Jeff puffed on his cigar. “’Cause right about now, I’m one crazy motherfucker. I have thought of so many ways to quietly knock yo’ ass off it ain’t funny. So don’t sleep…. I’m beggin’ you, please, don’t sleep on me.”

  “Oh…kay…” Yuri said, thinking for a moment about what would come next. “Jeff. Relax, take it down a notch, please. I said ‘my fault.’”

  “When did it become your fault? When you overslept yo’ fuckin’ time in this niggah’s bed. Huh?” Jeff mashed his cigar in the ashtray. “When did it become your fault? When you couldn’t think quick enough about what lie to tell? What, you used to fuckin’ this niggah when I’m at work, on a business trip? What, this yo’ first time being bold about the shit? So tell me, Yuri, did you make a day of the dick? Did you enjoy it? ’Cause trust me: Whatever lie you ’bout to tell me better be so sweet that it’ll make me think there could never be another motherfucker.”

  “I’m not going through this.” Yuri attempted to walk away.

  Jeff quickly rose from the couch and blocked Yuri’s path. “How long you been ridin’ this niggah’s dick?”

  “Get the fuck out my face, Jeff!” Yuri did her best to shake off the fear she felt creeping up. “I told you I was at Nae-Nae’s when you called. We went to the Shark Bar, he had too much to drink and I didn’t want him driving home alone. So I went back home with him and fell asleep.”

  “He said y’all went to Fantasy Island.”

  “We went there first.”

  “He said you had too much to drink.”

  “We both did.”

  “You fuckin’ lyin’.”

  “Well, if I’m lyin’”—she pushed past him—“then stop asking me shit. So fuckin’ sick of you harassing me! Now I can’t go out and you not be in my goddamn neck?! You just make me fuckin’ sick! Stupid ass!”

  Before Yuri could storm toward their bedroom, Jeff grabbed her by her arm. “Get yo’ ass back here; I ain’t finished talking to you. You think you gon’ walk in here at damn near four o’clock in the morning and hit me with some ‘I’m sorry, my fault’ shit? What kinda lame-ass game you playin’?”

  “I said I was sorry; now get the fuck offa me.” She snatched her arm away. “You have lost yo’ paranoid-ass mind puttin’ yo’ hands on me!”

  “Lost my fuckin’ mind? I lost my fuckin’ mind the day I looked at you and thought you were decent, but you ain’t shit. You’ve lost a couple of pounds and think you gon’ out slick me? If you was so slick, bitch, you wouldn’t have fallen in love with some side niggah, trick! See, Yuri, you ain’t cut out for cheatin’. You too goddamn insecure and confused. That niggah didn’t even know yo’ fat ass before, so let’s see if it’s still all good when you gain your weight back, whore.”

  “Fuck you!” she spat.

  “Oh, now I got your attention….” Jeff watched as her breath seemed to float away and her eyes started to water. “What, I know your fuckin’ feelings ain’t hurt? Or you scared? You’ve been married to me for damn near seven year
s and you scared of me? You ain’t the one sitting here wondering where I’m at. You not sitting here trying to figure out what went wrong, where did I fuck up, was it the size of my dick or the fact that I’m sterile—”

  “It’s the fact you cheated on me with some nasty infected bitch and expect me to accept the shit because you have a son you wanna take care of. And now that I’ve decided that I want to move on with my life, you can’t take it.”

  “What you want me to do, Yuri? My son has already been born.”

  “Whatever, Jeff.” Yuri attempted to walk away again.

  “I’m talking to you!” He grabbed her so tight that he practically pushed her into the wall. “You think this is a fuckin’ game?”

  Yuri was too scared to move, yet too scared to be still.

  As if he’d been in a trance and was now having an out-of-body experience, Jeff saw himself standing over Yuri with intentions of smothering her. “I’m so sick of promising you that I will play God and kill you. I swear somebody got to pack their shit, and since I’m the one footin’ the bills, you decide where you going.”

  “You know what? Not a problem, ’cause I’m not some lil’ uneducated groupie bitch that has a need to sweat yo’ ass. I got a job, motherfucker, so don’t be too confused. Besides I been dreaming of the day I can leave you!” Yuri picked up the keys to her Touareg.

  “Where the fuck you think you going with my keys?”

  “Your keys?” Yuri asked, confused.

  Before answering, Jeff sat back down on the couch and lit another cigar; no matter how broken his heart felt, his brain knew that financially he had the upper hand. “Yuri, don’t play dumb. Basically, this conversation is over.” He blew the smoke toward the ceiling. “Tell whoever dick you suckin’ to go buy you another car, ’cause that truck outside is mine. As a matter of fact, all you own in this motherfucker is a pack of cigarettes and a pair of size-sixteen jeans.”

  Yuri stood in the middle of the floor, stunned. Where was the Al Green CD that she and Britt had laughed at earlier?

  “And I’m not about to keep arguing with you,” Jeff spat. “And I’m not gon’ beg you to stay, if that’s what you’re thinking. The decision is up to you. You can either skip yo’ ass up outta here or act like you got some fuckin’ sense. Now”—he rose from the couch—“I’ma head to bed.”