Chocolate Kisses

by Francis Ray

  “Come on, let’s get in the closet,” Mr. Thomas said, kicking the door open.

  That was when it hit Savannah. Her body may have responded, but her heart and mind belonged to Clinton. Suddenly his hands felt wet and cold. “No, no. I can’t. As a matter of fact, all this is just wrong. Mr. Thomas, please leave,” she said, buttoning her dress back up. She couldn’t keep behaving this way for temporary satisfaction that led to long-term frustration.

  Mr. Thomas’s face turned beet red, and he held his hands up. “Okay, sorry, Ms. Avery. I just lose myself when I get around you. I’m sorry.”

  “Mr. Thomas, we’re both a little crazy. Let’s just act like this never happened. See you around,” she said, smiling. They shook hands, and Mr. Thomas left holding a binder to cover a part of him that was noticeably not ready to leave.

  Savannah plopped herself down on a student’s desk. She had to get back with Clinton. She wanted a real man in her life who could not only make her toes curl, but listen and take care of her. There was no way, she thought, she was going to let Clinton slip away. He hadn’t called, but something told her he was keeping an eye on her. And she felt it was time that she balled up her pride and paid him a little visit.

  Savannah had invited Giselle over for the evening for pizza and to catch up on their separate dramas. They would usually meet at SugarCane, but Savannah figured if she wanted to get new results, she had to start doing new things besides hanging at bars.

  “So girl, tell me about Mr. Firefighter. I bet he is swinging one long hose!” Giselle said, adding a third slice to her already thickened waist.

  “Well, he is in the double digits. And he’s nice.” Savannah didn’t know where to begin, but Giselle knew her well enough that she didn’t have to fake. “I think I fucked up, though.”

  Giselle stopped chewing.

  “He heard the phone messages from Chyno and ’em . . .” Savannah said, filling her glass of white wine. “And you know the type of voice-mail messages I get.”

  “Savannah.” Giselle finally let go of her pizza to throw her hands up over her head. “He is a working man with city benefits. Do you know he can retire in ten years and still get paid, plus keep his medical and dental?”

  “Sorry, Giselle, I may have forgotten those minor details,” Savannah said, rolling her eyes. “I could care less about that bullshit. I liked him for making me laugh, making me feel good, special, like I am a good woman.”

  “You are a good woman. You can’t look to no man to make you feel that way. They can take it from you at any time. You have to give it to yourself. Don’t beat yourself up for being you. But are you going to call him, drop by his place, or go to his job to make peace?”

  “Hell, no! I am not showing up at any man’s job or tying up his phone lines. He knows my number, and he hasn’t used it.”

  “Of course not—his ego is hurt. It looked like he was opening up to you, and then he finds out you are getting wide-open with other men!”

  Savannah sighed as she nursed her glass of wine. “I know what I have to do. I have to let him know that I do care.”

  “Good, you need to go pay him a visit, for real,” Giselle said.

  Savannah nodded at the clock atop her television, which read ten P.M. It was a Thursday and he was off. She peered out her living room window and saw his car parked. It made her feel better. As soon as Giselle left, she was going to clear up any misunderstandings.

  “Well, now that we got that out of the way, I have a question,” Giselle said, taking a gulp of wine from the nearly finished bottle.

  “What is wrong with you!” Savannah laughed at Giselle’s antic.

  “Girl, you know Trey and I have been having issues. I don’t know what I want anymore. When I married him, I thought could grow to love him, but it’s the same. We act like an old married couple. We rarely do anything together anymore,” Giselle said, cutting her eyes at the TV. “Girl, marriage don’t fix what’s broke.”

  Savannah thought that Giselle was finally learning her own lessons. She didn’t want to have a life like hers. That was why she had to be sure about Clinton, because when she married, she wanted it to be for the right reasons. “You two just need a good weekend away. Trey works a lot of hours. See if you both can work on something,” Savannah said, folding her legs to get comfortable.

  “He mentioned something about counseling. That’s for white folks, though,” Giselle said. “Right?”

  “Wrong. It’s for people who are serious about getting through the rough times together. I know you want to do it, Giselle. You have been married for a while now; give it a go,” Savannah said, almost hearing her own advice.

  Giselle fidgeted with her hands. “I guess. Maybe we can start all over. I want to get this right before we have kids.”

  “See, that’s what I’m talkin’ ’bout. That don’t sound to me like a woman who wants to leave her husband.”

  Giselle sucked her teeth and grabbed her bag. “Look. I gotta run before Trey starts blowing up my cell. But thanks for listening. I know what I gotta do,” she said, smiling, and walked out.

  Savannah covered her face with both her hands. Marriage wasn’t something that she was obsessed about, like most women, but to her Giselle was a good example of never being satisfied. She wondered how much of Giselle was in her.

  As Giselle disappeared down the block, Savannah walked the several flights up to Clinton’s apartment. That would give her enough time to think, she thought. As she reached the last step, she heard male laughter and the sound of heels.

  She ducked at the bottom of the steps to see if her gut feeling was true. Clinton was walking from the elevator into his apartment with a woman holding a bag that looked like take-out food. Savannah’s brain told her to run up those steps and give him a serious tongue-lashing. But her legs couldn’t move. She couldn’t run down to her apartment either. The woman was dressed in tight jeans, and an even tighter red tube top, and she couldn’t keep her hands off him, whispering in his ear as he searched for his keys to the door.

  That was all she needed to see to know that she was wrong all along. He probably had several women, though he had come off to her as if he were single and free. Who did he think he was, berating her for having male friends, she thought, while he had his own friends with benefits? Savannah walked down the flights of stairs to her apartment and sat by her window. She couldn’t sleep all night and stayed up watching old movies on TV and crying in intervals. She was at her window when the young woman walked out into the night all alone at four A.M.

  After school on Friday afternoon, Savannah headed straight home. She opened the candy jar in the kitchen and took out all the blue and yellow sour sticks. It was time to get rid of them, she thought.

  Sitting in her kitchen, she analyzed the jar and wondered if she would ever have any use for it again. It represented a part of what was her past. But its emptiness also showed the baggage that she chose to release. She took the jar stuffed with sour sticks and dumped its contents in the trash, leaving only the red ones.

  About a week later, Savannah was now ready to talk to Clinton. He was outside washing his car with a male friend. Savannah studied them for what seemed like an hour. Clinton wore only a sleeveless ribbed T-shirt and knee-length khaki shorts. She was in awe of how handsome he was, all wet and shiny from the water and sweaty from the day. Each time his arm wiped the hood of his car, he would bend over showing his bulging biceps. His friend wasn’t half bad either, she thought, but there was no comparison to Clinton’s hunky physique. She timed how long it would take Clinton to reach his apartment when he was done.

  When she called his house, he picked up on the first ring.

  “It’s me,” Savannah said, her fingers trembling on the phone cord. “Long time.”

  Clinton sighed as if he were relieved to her from her, too. She wanted to tell him how much she missed him and needed him. But she sensed he had plenty of sweet words to say to her.

  “I’m moving,” C
linton revealed.

  “Oh.” Savannah’s sulked on her brown futon sofa. This was the part where he was supposed to profess his love, she thought. “Is it because of me?”

  “My lease is up next month and I’m not renewing it. Just thought you should know.” His deep voice sounded shaky, as if he were trying to sound a way he didn’t feel.

  All Savannah heard was silence on the other end. She realized this was her moment, not his. “I got rid of my dirty laundry. I had to face a lot of my issues alone, and I swear I am ready to be whatever you want us to be. I’m sorry, I was just scared. I thought you should know that before you moved. Uhm, so, take care.”

  “Savannah, don’t hang up. Thank you, and I’m sorry, too, if I was a little abrupt. I just don’t have time for games anymore. Good-bye.” And the line went dead.

  She flung her phone against the wall. So it’s like that? Thank you and I’m sorry? Like I was nobody important anyway. And he was leaving. She didn’t understand how he could just move. He was pulling out one of his control cards, she thought. It forced her to get more aggressive if she was really interested in making amends. She would have to do more than make a phone call. It gave them little time. But she just didn’t have any more energy to put in all the work.

  Savannah tossed and turned all night in bed. Each hour she looked at the clock and calculated what Clinton could be doing at that time. It was three A.M., the time they had first had sex. She thought back to that early morning and inhaled what smelled like Clinton’s sandalwood cologne. It was almost as if he were in the room. She wet her fingers and slipped her hands inside her green chiffon panties. Massaging between her thighs with gentle strokes, she thought of Clinton’s hands exploring her secret garden in the dark. She flicked her clitoris with her thumb until it swelled up and became sensitive to any touch.

  “Whew, I need you,” she whispered as she rolled over on her stomach. Leaving her hand beneath her, she gyrated her hips on it until a pressure built up inside. She wanted to release it and be done with it, but she just couldn’t. She was pushing herself too much, and slowed down. She slid one finger inside her and stroked it in and out as if Clinton were watching her. This really worked, because she was never one to masturbate alone. Flipping onto her back, she fondled her breasts, too, until she damn near saw an image of Clinton at the foot of her bed. Tired and exhausted, she threw her head back on the pillow, blowing hard to catch her breath.

  It wasn’t more than a half hour later when she heard a knock. Knock. Knock. Knock. Sleepy-eyed and nearly bumping into her nightstand, Savannah looked through the peephole.

  It was Clinton staring back at her.

  “Yes?” she said, trying to act as though she were still upset. But before he could answer, she flung her door open. “I was asleep.”

  “Cool. I was trying to sleep, but couldn’t and . . . well, you know.”

  Savannah walked back to her bedroom and left him standing at the door. She didn’t care how she looked with her behind cheeks sticking out of her grandma panties and a dingy T-shirt. According to him, they were officially over, so she didn’t know exactly what he was trying to do. But she decided to fall back and watch.

  Clinton slipped in the bed next to her. “I wanna work this out,” he said in her ear. He smelled like fresh soap and not like a man who had just left work.

  “I do, too. Missed you.” She gathered the peach-colored covers over her body and curled up in a fetal position on her side of the bed.

  “I missed you even more,” he said, his fingers walking their way up to her hardened nipples. He pinched them firmly and squeezed them between his fingers, just as she liked it. She wanted to push him away, but it would probably be the last time they ever had sex. He massaged her shoulders and nestled his nose on the back of her neck, moving her long ponytail to the side.

  “I missed this, too,” he said, reaching down to fondle her throbbing, fleshy pussy. “Shiiit.” He clutched her ass cheeks in his hands as Savannah rolled over on her stomach. “And this.” He spoke in a low voice in her ear, his thick lips sucking on her lobes.

  Tears were trapped in Savannah’s eyes. She wanted to lie there and be made love to, letting him have his way with her. She turned to face him, and his eyes drank in every inch of her. He kissed the edges of her eyes, which were damp with tears. Then he pulled up her white tee and gently pressed both of her C cups together, sucking one nipple after the other. The muscles in his dark-chocolate shoulders rippled as he situated himself on top of her. His face moved back and forth, as if he were drinking out of two water fountains. An electric shock ran down her legs to her thighs. He bit down on her nipples gently, and the pain registered only as pleasure to Savannah.

  “That was just an appetizer; now it’s time for dinner.” He slipped her panties off and smelled them. “I can’t wait to eat.” He smiled.

  Savannah spread her legs like an eagle’s wings and served it up.

  Part Four

  IN THE MORNING SAVANNAH was sprawled on her stomach as Clinton massaged baby oil over freshly showered skin. He smeared her dark brown thighs with oil, massaging from the slope of her behind to the plateau of her back.

  “Ahh, this is too good,” Savannah murmured with her face buried in the pillows. “What is it that you can’t do, Clinton?”

  He laughed and worked his strong, long fingers into her shoulders, sending her off into another doze. But it was midmorning, and their whole Sunday was ahead of them.

  When Clinton was through, Savannah nestled her smooth, naked, shiny body in his arms. He nibbled behind her ears and asked, “Will you move with me?”

  Savannah brushed her long hair away from her face and turned around to see him. “Say that again?”

  “You know my lease is up. And I still want to be able to see you all the time,” Clinton said, smoothing down her fake tresses.

  “But what about my place? I still have another six months. And you haven’t exactly said you want us to be exclusive.” Savannah couldn’t believe that she was talking this way. Clinton just had something that made her want to be his, but she wasn’t willing to lose her ground. She didn’t want to end up like his sisters, with babies and no man, no commitment.

  Clinton grunted. And that sent shivers down Savannah’s thighs. She loved that deep man-grunt he made; however, it was also a sign of his dissatisfaction. He flipped the channels on the remote, and rubbed his newly growing mustache a few times, as he thought to himself.

  “A man ain’t always gotta spell things out, baby. I want to be with you. And if I’m asking you to move in with me, ain’t that enough?”

  “Come here; I want to show you something.” Savannah hopped out of bed naked and took Clinton’s hand.

  She walked him to the kitchen and pulled down the empty jar.

  “I got rid of all my baggage because I don’t want any more. I don’t want anything that is halfway done. I had this because I was scared of being walked out on. It was my way of making sure I got rid of men before they got rid of me. This may sound like a game to you, but for me it was serious as heart attack. Does that sound like a woman who would be okay with enough? I have to have it all or nothing, Clinton.”

  Clinton grabbed the empty jar from her and examined it. If you ask me, you need to get rid of this jar as soon as possible.”

  “Not until I have a good reason to.”

  Clinton held his hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay. I don’t want it to seem like things are as easy as I say. I told you what I wanted, but I understand if you need some time to think. Besides, I got some things I want to tell you, too.”

  Savannah grabbed an orange juice from the refrigerator for each of them. And she grabbed a seat, knowing she would need it.

  Clinton stayed standing against the kitchen counter. “When we was apart for a bit, I did have sex with other people. I also know you were spying on me that night from the bottom of the steps.”

  “And?” Savannah asked, unapologetic.

  “A
nd I also saw you with some guys. I’m just gonna assume that we both handled our business with other folks and now all that is over with, right?”

  Savannah nodded. She walked toward him and caressed the black coils of hair across his chest. Getting down on her knees, Savannah slid off Clinton’s blue-checkered boxers. His hardness stood before her, knocking her gently across the nose. She massaged his carved thighs until she reached the sack of tender flesh dangling from his legs. Carefully holding his length in her hands, she licked up and down the shaft.

  Clinton pulled the hair back from her face to get a better look at her, while she sucked his magic rod into her mouth. Her head bobbed back and forth as she slurped and sucked him until his knees weakened.

  “Savannah, baby,” he groaned, spreading his legs. “You look so sexy doing what you do. Damn.”

  That drove her to suck him in even further, because she did feel sexy as hell—and powerful. With every inch of him in the hot alcove of her mouth, he pulled her face closer into him.

  “I’m gonna cum any minute, oooh.” Clinton gripped the back of her head as she kept her mouth wet and supple and cradled his mahogany dick. She didn’t want to move. She wanted to consume every ounce of his liquid cream.

  Clinton ground his teeth, and he exploded a warm creamy substance down her throat. Savannah gripped his sweat-drenched thighs as she kept on massaging him with her lips. Her mouth glistening with his juices, she crawled down to reach his balls and gently kissed and licked those with her tongue.