“No, baby, you’re right. Not all men are filthy dogs like your father. Not all men go tramping around. But apparently Randy seems to be one of those men.”
I deformed my stress ball again as I thought about my mother’s last comment. I really thought Randy was different. That he was incapable of falling into the pit of the trifling. But like my mom had said, how much more proof had I needed?
I paced, exhaled, and squeezed. Paced, exhaled, and squeezed. The more pacing I did, the more squeezing I did. The more squeezing I did, the angrier I became as pictures flashed in my mind.
Randy and Tina.
Tina smiling in my face as she walked past me.
Tina’s comment about needing a shower.
Randy with his pants unbuckled, his zipper partly down, his shirt unbuttoned.
Randy with the look of guilt written all over his face.
Paced, exhaled, and squeezed. Paced, exhaled, and squeezed.
I wanted to replace the stress ball with Randy and Tina’s necks, and wring them both until their eyes bulged out. Why did he have to hurt me like that? I knew he was incapable of putting Tina in her place, but actually sleeping with her? What’s worse, Jalisa was there.
Paced, exhaled and squeezed. Paced, exhaled and squeezed.
I paced until my fingers got stiff, and my legs told me that it was time to sit my ass down. When I did, I grabbed my cell phone and turned it on. I’d turned it off after the thousandth time Randy had called me. It beeped, letting me know that I had a voice mail message. After the last two hundred he’d left, I had no doubt that it was another one from Randy.
Begging for a chance to explain.
Trying to convince me that he and Tina hadn’t done anything.
Insisting that it was all a misunderstanding.
I took a deep breath and rubbed my temples. What if they hadn’t done anything? What if I had misunderstood what I’d walked in on? Maybe I should hear him out. Maybe I should let him explain. I took another deep breath and squeezed my eyes tightly, trying to keep tears from falling.
What if?
I looked at my cell phone, contemplated what if again, and passed my fingers over the keypad.
What if?
But it was past two in the morning, and if a woman is leaving a man’s place, and his clothing was in the condition like Randy’s, there’s only one thing they could have been doing.
The nerve of him to tell me that he loved me.
Tina. I hate that bitch. I hate that Randy let her come in between what we had. It wasn’t fair. Why the hell couldn’t he have been man enough to put a stop to her? I mean, if he loved me the way he said he did, wouldn’t he have done that?
“Don’t hesitate to call me again, Randy.”
Bitch.
I pressed the button to delete all messages, cursed Randy out in my mind, let the tears that I just couldn’t hold back any longer, fall, and asked myself one question: why the hell did I still love him?
Abe
From the moment I stepped into Taki’s office, it was on.
It was a humid eighty-five-degree evening, and she was wearing a long trench coat, closed only by the belt around her waist. My mind instantly thought of the scene where Robin Givens walked into Eddie Murphy’s crib and showed him what she hadn’t been wearing in the movie Boomerang. Taki did the same for me. Just like Robin, underneath she wore nothing but an outfit that was straight out of a Frederick’s of Hollywood catalogue—a red satin-and-lace garter belt with lace stockings accentuating her athletic legs. Only partly covering her breasts was a matching lace bra, which had slits in the middle to expose her nipples.
I had just enough time to admire her and say, “Mmm-mmm-mmm,” before the coat she’d been holding open was dropped to the ground and she jumped into my arms.
I cradled her breasts and slid my tongue right in between the slits, running them over her hard nipples. She moaned in appreciation as I did so, and when I moved from her breasts to her neck, she ran her hands over my bald dome, and then slid her hands under my shirt and ran them around the base of my waist, which she knew drove me insane. Before I knew it, my pants had been unbuckled, unzipped, and my penis went smoothly from her hands to her mouth, and was worked to its fullest extent. As she stroked me, she applied some of the massage oil she’d been so determined to use. With each caress the oil grew hotter, and so did I as I pulsated and gyrated to the rhythm her hands and mouth created.
Without missing a beat, she dimmed her halogen lamp, and eased me down to the floor, where I sat with my back against the wall. I was pleasantly surprised when she straddled me and slid me inside of her without removing her panties, which were crotchless.
She was so moist that I was momentarily paralyzed. While she rode me with the fierce expertise of a bull rider, she cupped my chin with one hand, forcing me to look up at her, and grabbed her breast with the other and lifted it towards her tongue. I watched her intensely as she worked magic with her pussy and tongue at the same time. My concentration was broken for a brief moment when a photo of her husband and kids caught my eye, but I rectified that by taking my foot and kicking her desk, causing it to fall facedown.
“What’s wrong?” she asked in mid-stride.
“Nothing. I just had to get rid of a cramp.”
We went at it until we were both spent and satisfied, after which we sat on the floor, her head resting on my shoulder, and her legs wrapped around mine. Everything was tight—her lingerie, the oil, and the way she rode; I just knew I was going to sleep well that night.
But then she started talking.
My eyes were closed and my body was relaxed as I waited for my manhood to recover and be ready to go another round, when out of the blue she asked the question that she was never supposed to ask.
“Abe, where are we going with this?”
I had a feeling this was going to happen, though. I prayed it wouldn’t, but I just couldn’t shake the feeling that it would. I saw it in her eyes more and more; I felt it with every departing hug.
I opened my eyes. “What do you mean, where are we going?”
She lifted her head and looked at me. “I mean, where are we taking this relationship?”
Relationship?
“What do you mean by relationship, Taki? We’re both married.”
“I know. And we’re both unhappy.”
“I’m not unhappy.”
“Then why have you been seeing me?”
I was frustrated and didn’t want to have the conversation. I shrugged her off of me and stood up. Immediately my mind flashed back to Michael Douglas. Damn. I had to use tact. I exhaled and reached for my boxers. Recovered or not, my dick was done for the night. Or at least I was.
“Taki,” I said sliding them on, and doing my best to keep my voice calm. “We both knew that we could only take this but so far. It’s always been a physical thing. I don’t know how unhappy you are or aren’t, but I’m not unhappy with Nakyia. There are just some things that she’s not able to do for me, that you can. I thought you understood that?”
Taki stayed on the ground, brought her knees to her chest, and cradled them with her arms. I went about gathering the rest of my clothing and angrily bit down on my lip. All we ever did was fuck. We never cuddled—at least not in the realest sense of the word. Our kisses were passionate, but never filled with romance. We fucked. We never made love, and never let it get any further than that.
I should have known better than to think a woman, however down with the situation she claimed to be, was going to be able to handle that type of relationship without her emotions coming into play.
“I do understand, Abe,” Taki said. “It’s just that . . . well, I have developed feelings . . . deep feelings for you. I didn’t plan on it happening. It just did. You’re special to me, and I . . . I think I’m fall—well, don’t you have any feelings for me at all? Or am I just a fuck buddy to keep you occupied?”
I wanted to answer that question as honestly as I could
, but again, with the predicament I was in, I had to answer this correctly. Like I said before, I didn’t need the Demi Moore shit in my life. Damn it, why did I have to go and fuck around with my boss?
“No,” I said, continuing to get dressed. “I mean, yes, I have feelings for you. And no, you aren’t just a fuck buddy. I like you, Taki. I really do. But I have to be honest with you. I’m not in love with you. I’m in love with my wife.”
There was silence for a good three minutes, and in that time, I finished getting dressed. Taki never moved. She just sat quiet with a blank expression on her face. I couldn’t tell whether she was about to cry or blow up, and to tell the truth, I didn’t really want to know. I just wanted to get the fuck out of there as fast as I could. But damn it, if I didn’t have to come in and deal with her in the morning. I knew I couldn’t leave without having everything settled.
I picked up her bra and trench coat. “Are you all right?” I asked, holding them out for her.
Taki stood up and took her bra from my hand. “I’m fine,” she snapped.
I took a subtle step back. “I don’t want there to be any misunderstanding between us, Taki. If you can’t handle this anymore, let me know. I want you to be comfortable. You’re important to me,” I lied. “I don’t want you getting hurt in any way.” Because I need my fucking job, I would have liked to have added, but kept that thought to myself.
“I said I was fine, Abe,” Taki growled. “I’m sorry that everything didn’t go according to how you planned it. I’m sorry that I care for you more than you do for me.”
“Taki . . .”
“Don’t worry, Abe. I won’t rock the boat for you and your wife. We did what we came to do. We fucked. Now you can leave.”
“Taki . . .” I said again, not feeling comfortable at all with the growing venom in her tone.
“I said I’m fine with the arrangement we have, Abe. No strings attached. No expectations.”
I nodded. There really was no point in saying anything else. “Okay, good.”
Taki rolled her eyes. “Yeah, it’s all good.”
We looked at one another for a few seconds and then before anything unpleasant could happen, I turned and left.
Taki
“Son of a bitch!”
I slammed my hand down on my steering wheel. “That no-good-want-his-cake-and-eat-it-too son of a bitch!” I slammed the wheel again and pressed down on the gas pedal angrily.
After Abe left, I did the only thing I could do—I cried. I felt like a fool. I’d practically poured my heart out to him and all he could say was that he didn’t want any misunderstandings. He didn’t even have the decency to give me a hug before he left.
Coward.
I cried until I had no more tears left and then changed into clothes I’d had in a bag in the backseat of my car, and then headed for the expressway. I cruised aimlessly at seventy-five miles an hour, with no specific destination in mind. Going home at that moment wasn’t an option, because I knew there was no way I was going to be able to wear my other face for Whilice and the kids.
I slammed my hand down on the steering wheel again. As much as I wanted to put it all on Abe’s shoulders, I knew I really had only myself to blame. I let my heart get involved. In reality, Abe’s callousness should never have hurt me. I guess deep down I was hoping for a different type of response from him, but I should have known better. After all, we’d both had an understanding from the very beginning. We were just satisfying each other’s sexual urge. Plain and simple. There was nothing more to it than that.
I turned on the radio to drown out the noise from inside of my head. Luther Vandross was singing “Always and Forever.” How about never and nevermore? I thought.
I got rid of Luther and put it on a Latin station. I didn’t know a lick of Spanish, so they could sing about always and forever all they wanted to. But of course with the way my night had been going, I had to hear the one word I did know: Amor. Love.
I cursed and turned the radio off.
I thought about what Abe had said: that I did things for him his wife couldn’t. I knew about her condition. He had mentioned it to me one day over a casual lunch. We were just coworkers then, although I was drawn to him. I remember feeling so sad for him. The recount of the helplessness he’d expressed pulled at my heartstrings. I found myself wanting to comfort him and make him feel better, which is what I tried to do whenever we were together. I tried to make him forget all about his hardship, and concentrate on our moment. I wanted his thoughts to be focused on my body, my sex, my remedy. Obviously the attention lasted only as long as his dick did.
A car horn suddenly went off and woke me from my introspection. I had drifted into another lane. I quickly veered back into my lane, and when an elderly man pulled beside me and blew his horn again, I did the only thing I could: I gave him the finger. He looked like he was about to have a heart attack as I sped off. I slammed my wheel once again and cursed him and everyone else.
A half hour passed before I finally looked at the time on the dash. It was nearing eleven P.M. As much as I didn’t want to, I had to get home and keep that part of my life in order, while the rest of it tumbled into a state of confusion, because that’s just what was happening. I know I’d told Abe that I could deal with things staying the way they were, but I wasn’t so sure about that. I was his boss. I was having an affair with him, and I was falling in love. What’s worse, I had stripped myself naked and bared my emotions and that meant that I no longer had the control that I so desperately needed anymore. How was I going to be able to continue to work with him? He would never say or show it, but I know he’d lost respect for me.
When I got home, Whilice and the girls were sleeping, so I took advantage of the quiet time and took a bath to try and relax myself and my brain. I lay in the hot water and caressed myself with the Calgon bubbles. For the first time since my conversation with Abe, I was starting to feel the pressure lighten. As my luck would have it, twenty minutes into my escape, the bathroom door creaked open and Whilice appeared in the door jamb wearing nothing but his silk boxers. His bulge of comfort hung just over his waistline and disgusted me. I remember when he used to care about his physique. I used to get jealous from the stares women used to give him. Notice the amount of used to’s? After he and I said our I do’s, everything changed. He let the washboard stomach go, he allowed his muscle to turn into flab, and not even my constant complaining made him change. As far as he was concerned, he was married; he had no one to impress.
He stepped into the bathroom, closed the door, and from behind his back, he presented a bouquet of roses.
Not now.
“What are those for?” I asked, not even attempting to put my mask on.
He sat on the rim of the tub and kissed me on my cheek. “I got your message. The kids and I came home early. I was hoping to spend some time with you. Maybe take you out for some dinner.”
“I have a big presentation tomorrow, so I had to go to the office and get some things together.”
Whilice nodded slowly. “I wasn’t really surprised. You always seem to be at the office when I’m not around.”
I ignored his comment and looked at the roses. “They’re pretty. Thank you. Can you put them in some water for me?” I was hoping he would leave right away to do that but I could tell by the look in his eyes that he had more to say. I closed my eyes, trying to send a clear message that I wasn’t in the mood to hear anything. I just wanted to be alone.
Whilice never caught the hint, though. Either that or he caught it and chose to ignore it. He lay the flowers down and said, “So, did you get your work done?”
I sighed. “Most of it. I still have a few things to go over before the meeting.”
“You do? But you were gone most of the afternoon and all evening.”
“And your point?” I asked with a touch of indignation.
“No point. I’m just surprised that you didn’t get everything done.”
“Well, I didn’t.�
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His lips curled and his eyebrows rose. “Hmmph.”
“Hmmph what?” My hands were clenched tightly under the water. He was working my nerves in a way I just didn’t need at that moment.
“Hmmph nothing. The girls missed you, that’s all. They say they don’t get to see you much anymore.”
“I’ll make it up to them.”
“I missed you too.”
I looked up at him, but didn’t say a word. He stood up and went to the sink and looked at himself in the mirror. Why couldn’t he have just left me the hell alone?
“Were you there alone?”
“Does it matter?”
“Just wanted to make sure you were safe.”
“Well, I’m home, aren’t I? And for the record, yes, I was there alone.”
“Hmmph,” he said again. Damn, he was working me.
“Hmmph what?” I asked louder than I intended.
“After we got home, the girls and I decided that it would be fun to pay their hardworking mother a visit. So we all hopped back in the car, made a pit stop at KFC, grabbed a bucket of honey barbecue, and stopped by.”
I remained silent as I watched him watching me in the mirror. Was he bluffing?
“The guy who works for you, what’s his name? Abraham somebody . . .”
“Lincoln.”
“Yeah, yeah. Abraham Lincoln, like the president. Good ole Honest Abe.”
“What about him?” I studied his eyes, searching for some type of indication as to what he did and didn’t know. Since he didn’t have an entrance badge, which was required to get into the building, I knew he couldn’t have known much.
“He’s married, right?”
“Yes. Why? And why the twenty questions?”
Whilice turned away from the sink, and came back to the tub and sat down. Then he put his hand in the water, and guided it in between my legs.
“Whilice, what are you doing?”
“I missed my wife,” he said, trying to guide his fingers inside of me. “I miss making love to my wife, who works so hard.”
In Too Deep Page 7
